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targaryen-dynasty · 9 months

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COMFORT.

Daemon Targaryen x valyrian!Reader

You understand the Rogue Prince like no other, and so it's your task to put his mind at ease again when he stumbles into the brothel.

WORDS: 1.5 K

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; DUB-CON, ass eating, handjob, balls worship, size kink, squint and you'll miss the breeding kink, valyrian!Reader (has pale skin, silver hair), bastard Valyrian/High Valyrian

NOTES: I KNOW I said I’d leave for some while, and I’m not really active on here besides setting up a queue but I just couldn‘t let go of the thoughts of some good ol‘ ass eating with our uncle-daddy. This work is not meant for educational purposes, but please wash yourself before doing sth like this.

It was a lacklustre affair.

Daemon had been thrusting and thrusting for quite some time with little effort or enthusiasm, arousing nothing but awkwardness and deep desire for it to be over.

Perhaps it was your faked moans of pleasure or perhaps the disheveled state he was in when he stormed into Chataya’s, nevertheless, he was disgruntled as he pulled out of you, clearly frustrated by his poor performance.

As he sat down on the sill, quilt wrapped around his hanging shoulders, you were quickly reminded that the usually confident, self-assured and strong Rogue Prince that didn’t much care what anybody thought of him actually very much cared, and was nothing more than a tender man who was wracked with doubt.

Getting on your feet, you prowled toward him, standing between his parted legs. You cupped his face with one hand, forcing him to look up at you.

“It is possible the Queen will give birth to yet another girl,” you tried to cheer him up, grabbing both his large hands and caressing them with your thumbs. Alas, the attempt did not bear fruit, the dragon in front of you merely scoffing. It seemed there were a few more layers you had to peel off tonight to figure out what truly plagued him, though you suspected something–or someone–particularly to bother his mind.

You squeezed his hands before pulling him onto his feet, despite him seeming rather reluctant. “Allow me to put your mind at ease, my Prince,” you hummed, and guided him back toward the bed.

When he lay down on his back, you tsked, “va ao iemny.” On your stomach. It was your Lysene origin that granted you the ability to speak a version of bastard Valyrian, and was one of the main reasons the Prince had chosen you a few moons ago. That, and your pale skin and silver hair.

His lilac eyes widened ever so slightly at your bold command, but he complied. The bed barely dipped beneath your knees as crawled between his parted legs. You sat back on your haunches and trailed your ring clad fingers over his sides, starting at the top. A few of the scars were traced by your fingertips, and you relished in the way he shivered under the gentle and teasing touch.

Keeping a close eye on him allowed you to spot the way his upper body moved in sync with his heavy breathing. What surprised you the most was that he held his eyes closed, visibly enjoying your ministrations despite them being barely there.

“Bisa iksis daor mirre,” you said, the smirk on your lips reflecting in your tone, “iksan daor gaomagon.” This isn’t all. I am not done.

Reaching for one of the more firmer pillows, you grabbed his hip to raise it a bit before shoving it underneath his lower stomach, angling his hips and giving you the best possible access to his rear and cock. Daemon was open-minded and had ample experience up his sleeve, and it wasn't the first time you paid attention to anything other than his cock.

You bowed forward, your lips finding the sensitive spot in the nape of his neck that always had him purring like a cat and bending to your every wish. Lingering there for a few moments with your teeth nibbling on his skin, you eventually licked over the faint mark that followed in your teeth’s wake, before departing down.

While open-mouthed kisses were pressed to his spine, both of your hands began to tease his buttocks. At first, it was only gentle caressing, but as your mouth traveled lower, the bolder your hands got. You squeezed his flesh, and gently parted his buttocks to expose his arsehole to the warm breath you exhaled.

Your eyes flickered up to gauge Daemon’s reaction for a split second before you gathered some saliva and spat it onto his unprepared hole. His muscles tensed slightly with the sudden wetness, but when your index finger circled around the rim, he relaxed just as quick.

A faint hum was audible, coming from the Prince in front of you, and when you pushed the first digit in, it was replaced by a groan.

“Fuck–”

“How does that feel, my Prince?” you purred.

“Good,” he rasped.

That was encouragement enough for you to spit into your other hand, coating his cock in it and using the slickness to tug on it with ease. Being penetrated on both ends had him releasing wanton moans in no time, only increasing in volume as you bowed forward and replaced your finger at his arsehole by your lips and tongue.

If it wasn’t for your mouth and tongue being occupied by sucking and lapping at his hole, you would’ve chuckled as he desperately pushed his hips back against your face. You dragged your tongue over the rim, and kept your blue-lilacish eyes on the Prince beneath, watching carefully what worked best and what not.

One of your hands spread his buttocks, allowing you to keep your lips against his ass as your tongue pushed in. You stilled briefly, but were spurred on when you heared the strained groan he released.

“Sīr sȳz, gaomagon jāre,” he panted, “... kostilus.” Hearing him beg was new, but you couldn’t deny that you found a certain liking in it. So good, keep going. Please.

As you felt his cock twitch in your hand, indicating that he was on the verge of peaking, you released it and instead processed to fondle the sac of his stones, squeezing it.

The whine that escaped his throat as you pulled back to spit into your hand was the epitome of pathetic, and he obviously had your teasing coming. “Skoros massitas naejot se nēdenka dārilaros, mh?” What happened to the fierce Prince, mh?

“Jorrāelagon nyke naejot–” The threat died on his tongue as yours dove back into his arsehole, returning to its task with vigor. Need me to–

Just like his cock, his stones were coated in your saliva, making it easier to fondle and squeeze them. Daemon started to rut his hips, and it was clear what he was doing or rather chasing. With his hard cock rutting against the pillow, your hand fondling his stones and your tongue fucking in and out of his hole, he felt his peak slowly building at the base of his shaft.

If it would’ve been any other patron, you would’ve stopped your ministrations and thought about a punishment to put him back in his place, but it was no normal patron lying in front of you. It was a Prince, and a dragon in flesh at that.

Your tongue and hand were tireless in their motions, determined to push the rogue over the edge, and judging by the way he was writhing and rutting as if his life depended on it, he was close to toppling over.

The strained groan he wanted to release, the one that always came whenever he spent himself, was replaced by a gasp, caught off guard by the way your tongue curled up on its way out, tugging at the rim in a way that drove him insane.

“Seven hells,” he grunted, and was quick to wrap one hand around his twitching member, tugging on it to embrace the approaching release that threatened to undo him.

“I–I’m–” the words cut off as his peak crashed over him. His other hand fisted the covers tight enough for his knuckles to blanch, while his hips and hand worked in tandem with your own and your tongue to coax him through the pleasure.

His orgasm tingled at the spot where his sac met his cock, and it was almost ridiculous how much of his spent squirted out and coated the sheets and the pillow below. It was such a shame it went to waste, because you knew at least one spot of your body where you would’ve preferred it.

You had withdrawn your mouth from his hole not long after the peak subsided, and crawled up and hovered over his tall frame. Collapsing on top of him, he merely scoffed at the added weight, but was quick to hum as your lips pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek. A tired smile was adorning his features, and his lilac eyes were closed again, relishing in the bliss he felt.

“How do you feel?” you asked, and though your blueish eyes twinkled with mischief, the genuine concern seeped through your words regardless. Daemon kept on smiling, reaching up to gently cradle your face before he grabbed your body, keeping you steady on top as he turned to lie on his back. His head was propped up on a pillow and yours was resting on his chest, his heartbeat lulling you into calmness.

“Iksi henujagon syt Zaldrīzesdōron isse se ñāqatubis,” he mused. We are leaving for Dragonstone in the morning.

And when you looked at him with utter confusion written all over your face, he elaborated further. “You are foolish if you think I would go into exile without you.”

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multifandombitxh · 1 year

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Keep It Down

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut/Angst with some fluff sprinkled in there ✨

Warnings: Self pleasure, caught in the act, jealous/protective Din, 18+

AN: some good ol Jealous!Din for the girlies 😌 It's such a stereotypical fic gang I'm gonna be so real with you lmao. It's also a long one so prepare for the worst typos you've ever witnessed.

PS I haven't seen S3 yet but I got back into the hype 💁‍♀️

18+ minors dni

It had been quite some time since you were able to have a moment to yourself. So long, in fact, that you couldn't remember the last time you did anything for yourself that was even remotely relaxing. You had been stuck on one mission for months, scouring the corners of each galaxy for a specific target with an unreasonably high bounty over their head. Din kept telling you it would be worth it in the end, but you were beginning to doubt that sentiment about two months into the search.

After a very pleasant visit to Alderaan, you were able to snag something for yourself to help with some much needed "stress relief".

You did your best to hide it from Din, considering you really didn't want him to know you'd just purchased a vibrating self massager. They were hard to come by, so when you found a merchant that sold them discreetly, you knew you had to take the chance. After it was all said and done, and Din asked where you'd been while he was busy getting information about the target, it was hard to explain to him where you'd gone.

"And where have you been this whole time?" He asked as you approached him outside of a local bar.

"I was, um, chatting up some locals," You lied, trying to maintain some semblance of composure as he stared you down. "Wasn't able to find anything about the target. I don't think he's been here."

"Well, while you were busy wasting your time, I was able to find one of his distant relatives," He explained, "Turns out he has such a high bounty for more than just murder, he's a real piece of shit in the eyes of his family. She said she knows where he might be."

"Yeah? Where?"

"Tatooine."

You scoffed. "That's not far."

"Which means we need to leave soon," He explained, "There's a crew heading there in just a few hours."

"Okay, so who's the crew?" You asked, eyeing him suspiciously. "Why can't we just go on our own? The ship could make it."

"It could, but not that quickly," He sighed, "Their ship is a little more advanced. It'll get us there faster."

You shrugged, raising an eyebrow at him. "Have you talked to them?"

He nodded once and began to walk off, likely in the direction of the meeting place. "I have. That distant relative? She knows these guys, let me talk to one of them over her communicator. They said they'll take us there, no questions asked."

You followed closely, trying to match his pace. "I find that hard to believe."

"You find a lot of things hard to believe," He teased, nudging your shoulder with his own. "It's kept us out of a lot of trouble. Always liked that about you."

You tried not to react to the compliment- the last thing he needed was an ego boost- but internally, it made your heart flutter and your stomach feel heavy. You opted not to respond to this, hoping he wouldn't press.

Unfortunately, that only made it worse.

"Would it kill you to take a compliment every once in a while?" He asked, his tone annoyed.

"It might," You replied with a smile, "Never done it, so I don't know."

"Maybe you should try it some time," He scoffed back at you, causing you to roll your eyes.

Your relationship with Din was complicated to say the least. You knew from the start you had some kind of attraction to him- what kind, you weren't sure, but it was strong and unrelenting. His voice was dangerously enticing, leaving you shivering any time he spoke just above a whisper, and the mystery of his face only added to the excitement. You had no clue what he looked like under that helmet, but you didn't care at this point. It never occurred to you to fantasize about his appearance- the way he carried himself, his voice, his confidence, everything about him struck you more.

But you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little bit curious about the color of his eyes.

When the two of you finally arrived at the crew's headquarters, you gave him a skeptical look. The warehouse before you was old, rusting and decaying in every corner. It was discolored, looking to have once been a pale green. The roof had caved in in several places, and the stairs to the roof were a death trap waiting to collapse on any unsuspecting victims. Din took note of your expression, waving his hand once to dismiss it.

"Not a word," He commanded, "I don't want to hear it."

"All I'm saying-"

"Don't make me tell you twice, Y/N. I already know what you're going to say, so zip it."

Frowning, you folded your arms over your chest in a pout. You followed him inside, passing through a creaky metal door that you were sure would be better off as scrap metal. Din led the way, checking corners and keeping one hand close to his blaster. As you entered the warehouse, the smell of burning rubber invaded your nostrils, causing you to make a face. As you rounded a corner, a large, shiny silver ship sat in the center of the large open space.

It stood out like a sore thumb, clean and sparkling among the rubble. You both exchanged looks, watching as three people stood around the ship and chatted away. They didn't seem hostile, but you knew better than to underestimate them. You approached carefully, keeping an eye out for any others who might be hiding nearby. One of them took notice of you as you stepped under a light, giving you away.

"Hey, the Mandalorian is here!" He called out, waving excitedly at the two of you. The man was tall and thin, barely any meat on his bones but a smile that was charming in its own way. "He's got a friend! Come on over, you guys!"

Din glanced over at you slowly, and you returned his look with a shrug. As you walked over to the group, you took in the remaining two of the crew; a woman with short, dark hair, several tattoos, and a frown that would scare off anyone. The other, a man of similar stature to the first, wore round, thick glasses, and was covered in what appeared to be oil.

"Lera said you'd be coming soon," The man said, "What are your names? I'm Dom, that's Starsei, and this guy over here is my twin, Arus."

"Y/N," You greeted, offering a small smile, then gesturing to Din. "He won't tell you his name, just call him whatever you like."

Din nodded, affirming your words. Dom watched the two of you for a moment, a huge grin still plastered to his face. A fourth member of the crew emerged from underneath the ship, covered in more oil than Arus. His dark, straight hair clung to his forehead and his mouth hung open as he breathed heavily. Oil stuck to his bare torso as he offered the two of you a wave.

"And that's Nox," Dom said, an annoyed tone to his voice.

You couldn't help smiling at Nox- he was handsome, likely more handsome than most- with a wide jaw, dark stubble, and his body toned similarly to that of a God. You shifted your weight as he locked eyes with you, shooting you a half smile that gave you butterflies. Din stood beside you, moving closer as he noticed the tension that hung between you and the mystery man. Nox took note of Din as well, offering him a full smile.

"Have any trouble getting here?" He asked, his voice just as dreamy as he looked.

"No," Din said simply.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room as the two of them held each other's gaze, as if a silent conversation was happening just between them. You cleared your throat and looked over to Dom, giving him a warm smile. "So, um, when do we leave?"

"As soon as you're ready," He replied, "We were just finishing up repairs on the ship, so you're welcome to head inside and make yourselves at home. We'll all be roommates for the next two days, so we'll do a big dinner tonight to get to know each other better."

"Sounds great," You said, your voice as friendly as you could muster. There was a clear rivalry brewing between Nox and Din, and you were trying to do everything in your power to alleviate the tension. "We'll head inside."

Din ignored you, still staring at Nox. Irritated, you grabbed his upper arm and began dragging him toward the ship, smiling at the others along the way. Nox caught your eye again and you smiled, hoping he wasn't intimidated by Din too much. Once inside the ship, you all but slammed Din against a wall once you were out of earshot of the others.

"What is wrong with you?" You asked.

"What's wrong with me?" He replied, his voice filled with anger. "What's wrong with you?"

"I haven't done anything wrong!" You said, shouting in a whisper. "You're the one acting crazy!"

"Oh, I'm the crazy one?" He laughed, "I'm not the one making doe eyes at strangers."

Your mouth hung open in shock. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Y/N," He went on, "This is serious. We don't know them. If he tries something because you couldn't help yourself, and everything goes sideways, this was all for nothing."

"Why do you care?" You asked, becoming annoyed with his reasoning. "He's hot, give me a break! I'm allowed to think people are hot, Din!"

He let out a deep sigh, shaking his head. "We're on a mission, Y/N. This isn't the time."

"Well, it's been a long mission," You huffed, raising an eyebrow at him. "And I'm bored. The least I can do is have a little fun."

In truth, you hadn't even been planning on doing anything with Nox other than admire his good-looks. Your feelings for Din ran deep, and you weren't about to ignore those feelings for one good looking guy. If anything, you were hoping this would show Din that you weren't his, and that he had no claim over you. Maybe, just maybe, it would be enough for him to come clean about his own feelings.

If he even had any for you, that was.

Once everyone was loaded up onto the ship and you'd set off, you found yourself relaxing on a very comfy couch in a very cramped lounge area. The ship was dimly lit, offering little light to help you find your way around, so you opted to sit down and wait until someone told you to do something. After a while, Arus found you, and decided to sit with you.

"So, uh, is your partner, um... Okay?" He asked quietly.

"He's fine," You said, waving your hand.

"What was he so angry about?"

You shrugged, trying not to give away what was really going on between you. "Beats me."

You decided to get to know Arus a bit, finding out that he and Dom were engineers that escaped from the Empire many years ago after faking their deaths. You learned that Starsei is their pilot, and she seems standoffish because she doesn't often speak. She was a prisoner of the Empire, who helped Dom and Arus escape many years ago. Nox is their newest recruit; also an engineer, but mostly specializes in communications. He also used to be a smuggler.

After a while of chatting back and forth, Nox joined the party, sitting between you and Arus.

"Seems like the Mandalorian isn't having a great time if I'm not mistaken," Nox joked, glancing over at you. "Thought he was gonna slit my throat after I saw him in the hall just now."

"He'll warm up to everyone eventually," You said with a small smile, "He's a little hesitant about new people."

"So, how long have you two been together?" Nox asked, wiggling his eyebrows at you. Shock took over your features and you laughed awkwardly at the gesture.

"We're not together," You stated, "We've been working together for a long time now. Maybe a year."

Nox seemed to ponder your response for a moment as Dom entered the room, knocking on the wall to get everyone's attention.

"Arus, we need you up front," Dom said in a soft voice. "Star could use some help."

Arus excused himself, leaving you with Nox in silence. You tried to relax, sinking into the sofa as much as you could to appear as non-threatening as possible. Nox did the same, leaning back and yawning as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. The only sound was the rush of the ship, shaking softly as it dove through space.

"I want to know more about you," Nox said after a moment, turning to meet your gaze. His green eyes were soft, but lidded. "Who is Y/N, exactly? Other than the Mandalorian's pet, I mean."

"I am not his pet," You scoffed, laughing slightly and hitting his upper arm before looking away. "We're friends, that's all."

"You might want to check on that with him," He replied, "He was ready to kill me earlier just for looking at you. I don't think that's a normal thing to do for someone who's just a friend."

Nox's hand came to rest on your knee, his palm open fully and his thumb gently stroking back and forth. "If I'm being honest, I think he could tell why I was looking at you, and I think that pissed him off."

When you met his gaze, a pit formed in your stomach. Nox was handsome, and charming, and clearly making a move on you. But... Something was wrong. It felt wrong. There was something about the way his hand felt on your knee that made your skin crawl, his voice made you cringe, and the entire setting was uncomfortable. It was hard to pinpoint exactly why, until you thought a little harder about it.

He wasn't Din.

"I... Think I should go," You said, standing from the couch and turning back to face him briefly. "Look, you seem nice. But I'm... I'm not interested."

He smirked up at you. "I knew it. You totally have a thing for each other."

Dom appeared in the doorway again, a huge grin on his face. "Who's ready to eat?"

After what felt like hours, you were finally able to step away from dinner to your quarters- Starsei showed you the way- closing the door behind you. You removed your gear, tossing it to the floor and sighing in relief at the loss of the heaviness. Removing the massager from your pocket, you walked to the bathroom and gave it a good wash, not trusting it after being in your pocket all day.

Once you returned to the room, you actually took in what it looked like. Star had told you that you and Din would have to share one room, which hadn't bothered you until you realized there was only one bed that sat in the center of the room, facing the door. It looked big enough for both of you, but still, you knew it would be an awkward conversation to have once he arrived.

The room was dimly lit- much like the rest of the ship- one wall light sitting above the door and casting a reddish glow over the entire room. The bed looked uncomfortable, with a thin, gray blanket sitting atop the mattress and two equally thin pillows where your heads would rest. It wasn't home, by any means, but it was a place to sleep.

With that, you laid down in the bed, shivering from anticipation. It had been a long time since you'd had enough privacy for something like this. Not bothering to remove your pants, you slowly lowered your hand past the waistband and sighed softly as the blue silicone material grazed your skin. With one press of the button, you felt yourself melting into the hard mattress, all of your worries fading away with the soft sound of buzzing.

Your breathing began to pick up in pace and you wriggled slightly as the sensation became more and more intense. It was getting hard to suppress the sounds you were making, so you bit down on your lip to try and stifle whatever noises threatened to come out. A shaky breath managed to worm its way out of you, hitching in your throat as it started to escape.

Thoughts of Din infiltrated your imagination, and you didn't try to suppress them as they came. You thought about the sound of his voice, talking you through the pleasure and egging you on. A wave of energy passed through you and went straight to your core, wetness beginning to pool. You thought about his hands pinning you down as he had his way with you, panting and sweating above you. It was almost too much, and it felt like the room was spinning.

Closing your eyes, you began to focus on finding release, waves of pleasure flooding your body with each passing second. Your breathing picked up in pace, and it was getting harder and harder to stop the tiny moans that escaped your throat. With a flick of your wrist, the massager hit the perfect spot, pulling a sharp gasp out of you. Just as it left your lips, a large, warm hand clamped over your mouth.

Terror filled your body and replaced all sense of satisfaction, forcing you to rip your hand out of its hiding place and your eyes to shoot open. Din hovered over you, one hand covering the lower half of your shocked face while the other pressed into the mattress beside your head. He was missing most of his armor, his helmet the only piece that remained. Adrenaline shot through your veins, and you struggled against his hold.

"Sshh," He shushed you, holding a single finger up to the part of his mask where his lips would be. "Everyone in this quadrant is gonna hear you if you don't keep it down."

Confusion replaced the shock, your eyebrows drawing together as you breathed heavily through your nose. He seemed to see the questions in your eyes, and you could swear you could hear the smirk in his voice when he spoke again.

"I could hear you from down the hall," He explained, "Thought maybe you were... With someone. But it looks like I was wrong."

You shot him a glare, thinking back to the evening you spent with Nox and how it must have implicated something different to Din.

"I don't have to help you, if you don't want me to," He reasoned, the hand covering your mouth beginning to lessen the pressure it was applying. "I just don't want you to get caught by the others. Just say the word, I'll walk away and we'll never speak of this again."

You wished you could see his face to make a better decision about what his intentions were, but with the helmet in the way, it made it impossible. You thought back to the feelings you were having just minutes ago, and felt excitement bubble up in your gut. Despite the surprise, you wanted this. Your expression softened under his gaze, and you felt your body relax under his touch.

"The way you're looking at me... Should I take that as a yes?" He asked, tilting his head to one side. "You want me here? You don't want me to go find your little friend, do you?"

You shook your head slowly and a soft, amused laugh filtered through his helmet, sending a shiver down your spine.

"You wanna give that thing to me?" He asked, gesturing with his head toward the massager. You lifted your hand and placed it in his, your body beginning to shake at the idea of what was about to happen. "That's my girl."

His words sent a shockwave down to your middle, causing a soft whine to escape from behind his hand. His girl. Remembering to keep you quiet, he pressed down on your mouth again, shaking his head.

"As much as I want to hear every little sound you're going to make," Din said, his voice sounding strained. "Can't have anyone else listening in, got that? You're mine tonight."

You nodded.

"Glad to see you can follow orders somewhere, at least," He joked, the laughter in his voice making you shiver.

With one hand he managed to remove your pants, lowering them to just below your knees, the cool air hitting you and making you shake. He took note of this and pressed the massage straight against your clit, keeping it there, but not turning it on. Frustration began to build as he teased you, running the material over the spot slowly and gently. Your brows drew together at this and you gave him another deadly look.

"Give me a break, I've been waiting for this for a long time," He said, sounding breathless as he looked you up and down. "You have more scars than I thought you would. Still, you're as perfect as I imagined."

With wide eyes you wiggled free from the hand that covered your mouth. "Are you saying you've thought about me like this?" You asked, your voice strained.

"Quiet," He commanded, shoving you back down into the mattress with his free hand. "I already told you, the others might be listening."

"Seriously?" You questioned, exasperated. "Did you think I wasn't gonna react to that?'

"I knew you would," He replied, gripping your jaw with his fingers. "I just wanted to distract you so I could do this."

You opened your mouth to respond, but were quickly silenced by his hand once more as he pressed the button on the massager, effectively turning it on. A hearty groan filled your throat as your head fell back, Din's hand keeping you in place. Your knees shook as he worked you over, circling the massager before pressing it against your clit again. Whines and moans were easily muffled by his hand.

Without thinking twice, you reached out and gripped his bicep, your fingertips digging into the soft flesh that hid beneath his shirt. He grunted at your touch, lowering his face closer to yours as you squirmed beneath him. "Eyes on me, yeah? Keep your eyes on me, Y/N."

With that, you reached up to touch the side of his helmet- a silent plea for him to remove it. You begged with your eyes, since you couldn't with your mouth, hoping he would give you what you wanted so you could look him in the eye. He hesitated, his movements slowing as you pressed your hand to his helmet. Sighing, he removed his hand from your mouth, instead placing it to your cheek. "I can't, you know that."

"Please," You blurted, all dignity vanishing from your body as you begged him to show his face. "You know me-"

The massager hit a rather sensitive spot, causing you to cry out and lurch upwards. Just as it began to leave your mouth, his hand was quick to silence you.

"You've gotta be more careful than that," He scolded, pressing it harder up against you. Your back arches off the bed, causing your chest to graze his. Sighing shakily, he kept the massager stationary, sending wave after wave of pleasure washing over you. You'd all but forgotten your desire to lock eyes with him, your climax on the horizon and taking up all priority in your brain.

"That's it," He encouraged, drawing out each word. "You're being so good for me."

Broken whimpers spilled past his hand, and he didn't stop them this time. Instead, he doubled down, maintaining the same position that was driving you closer and closer to the edge. It was within reach now, just a few seconds more and you'd be coming undone beneath him. Din could sense this somehow, his face mere inches from yours.

"I know, I know," He mewled, breathing hard behind his mask. "Be a good girl, now. Give me what I want."

His words were the tipping point, sending you flying over the edge. Your climax crashed through you, your head falling back against the mattress as several stifled moans filled the air. Din hummed as you finished, as if satisfied by his work. He never wavered, his helmet stationary, a sure sign that he watched your face the entire time. His hand abandoned your mouth and you gasped, gulping in air as you came down from your high. The buzzing ceased and your body fell limp, your muscles relaxing.

Din helped you redress yourself, taking his time and tracing his fingers over your exposed skin before it vanished beneath your clothes. "So that's where you went today," He laughed gently, turning the massager over in his hand. "I knew you weren't talking to locals. You've never been a good liar."

You groaned and rolled onto your side, facing away from him. Embarrassment flooded your body, the realization of what had just happened setting in. Despite the fact that he entered the room, saw you as you pleasured yourself, and still felt the desire to help you get off, you couldn't help feeling vulnerable.

"Y/N."

His voice sounded... Different. It wasn't metallic, it didn't sound muffled or altered in any way. It was organic, and soft, and hung in the air like gentle music to your ears. The realization hit you like a brick.

His helmet was off.

As you tried to turn back around, he was quick to stop you, moving you back onto your side as he laid beside you in the bed. His breath hit your neck, whispering past your ear like a soft breeze. The sensation made you flinch, drawing in a sharp breath as his arm wrapped around your middle from behind. He pulled you close, the center of your shoulders pressing into his warm chest.

"I hope you know I did that by choice," He mumbled, his lips grazing your skin. "I didn't embarrass you, did I?"

"No, no, it's not that," You said quickly, "I just... didn't think you'd ever want to do something like that. I thought it was against your creed. It took me off guard, I guess."

"It is," Din sighed, "But if I'm breaking the rules for anyone, it should be you."

"Are you still mad at me?" You asked, a hint of playfulness in your voice.

The quiet laugh that left his lips was enough to make anyone crumble at his feet. "I was never mad at you. I could tell you were getting... Frustrated, to put it mildly. I didn't blame you for being attracted to someone else. It was him I was mad at."

"You barely knew him," You replied.

"I know," Din agreed, leaning in close enough to kiss your jaw. "But he was looking at my girl."

#din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #mando x you #mando x y/n #mando x reader #mandalorian smut #mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #mywriting

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guyfieriii · 3 months

Text

We’re going out in style, babe (I)

God, it’s been a WHILE. I really lost all zeal for writing for a little while, until recently I watched the tv series ‘Mr. & Mrs. Smith’ (it’s so so good, you guys!! everyone go watch it) and it got the ol’ wheels turning. This was supposed to be a one and done thing but I got carried away and I lack the stamina to write a big whole thing so this’ll be a two-parter.

Anyway. This is my little version of it with Price. Angst and some stuff. The usual business. Haven’t written anything in months so please read this with the lowest possible expectations. Ya girl’s rusty.

Pairing : John Price x F!reader

Trigger warning : Explicit Sexual Scenes

It’s almost romantic.

The sight of husband and wife lay bare, broken and bloody. Look closely enough to see past the gore, past the ugliness set in a halo of ichor to see a sense of deliverance. The gift of release knowing they’ve met their end, and they’ve met it together.

Well, almost.

You choke out a wretched cough seeped in blood. One you’d feel rip into you, bullet holes and all, if you just weren’t so tired. You can taste it, though — coppery and astringent.

Punctuating.

This is it, you think, feeling the curve of your spine slacken at the relief of what’s coming.

I’m sorry, John.

The words spume against your lips, the only sound making it past them is a wet gurgle.

You’re grateful, for once, for the tears mar your eyesight. They keep you from seeing the true extent of his pain. You can feel it though, his agitation, his helplessness simply in the feather-light brush of his fingertips against your own. It can’t be easy, watching his wife slowly bleed to death beside him while he does the same. Seeing the way your lips turn ashen under a cochineal film of blood, watching the space between each breath lengthen gradually until all that’s left is the in between.

It’s slow. Painful. Each passing second permeated in struggle.

But better him than you.

Let me be first to go, you think in your typical manner of self-service.

It’ll all have been worth it, if only you’re the first to go.

“Oh,” It’s the first thing you can think to say,

“You’re English.”

It’s not the first thing you notice about him, though. No the thing that catches your attention at once is his eyes. Clear, calm and oh so blue. The sheer depth of them, though. Stare into them much longer, and you might not be able to find your way back out.

“Disappointed?” The question is dipped in jovial cadence. Thank God. He’s not offended.

“No. Not disappointed. I was only expecting—.” You pause, uncertain on what expectations you had starting out. Whatever they were, you can’t really remember now.

“What were you expecting, love?” He asks, simply and you know without a shadow of a doubt that it’s sincere. It echoes in the resting timbre of his voice, in the sharpness of his gaze which is dulled only slightly by something you might confuse for affection if you didn’t know any better.

You can only stare in response. Wait for the punchline that never comes.

Jesus Christ. He really does wants to know.

It’s unfamiliar territory for you to be in. To hold someone’s concern in your grasp the way you do his. However, as hard as it is for you to accept, it seems just as easy for him to simply give it away.

The weight of it makes your heart beat faster. Harder. Suddenly your mouth is too dry and you fight the urge to blink and break the spell. If he notices your discomfort, he says nothing about it.

An odd thing, really. That the two of you were matched.

“I’d like for our first day of marriage to not be a complete disappointment.” He prompts, still expecting your answer.

“Listen, uh—”

“John.” He supplies with a tone that makes you think you’re missing out on a joke.

Yeah, it’s a fake name. Haha. I get it.

“Jane.” You reciprocate, awkwardly.

“I’m Jane. And you’re perfect — er, John.” You declare with a sharp inhale only to be met with the scent of him. A bonfire is the first thing that your mind puts up front and centre. A bonfire doused out by a the lightest drizzle, so the smell of smoke still lingers. Along with it, the wafting aroma of cinnamon. Chocolate. All things warm and inviting.

You decide, in that moment, that you really really like the way he smells.

“Starting off with perfection, am I? At least give me till our silver year to really nail it.” He states, yet again, with such utter sincerity you almost miss the joke entirely.

“Till our—? Oh. Right.” You glance away, sheepish.

“This is yours; I believe.” Through your peripherals, you see a ring dangling at the top knuckle of his little finger. A delicate gold band. Simple and suited to your style. You glance at the finger right beside and see that he’s already worn his.

Right. Fuck.

“Uh, yeah. Thank you.” You reach out to take it, but he curls his finger back into his palm.

“Oh no, darling. Let me.” With the utmost care he grabs hold of your wrist, his thumb closing around your pulse — which much to your dismay is racing. It looks so slight, enclosed in his grip — which is paradoxically unyielding and yet so unbearably soft. A cushioned cage you might not mind being held captive in. You can’t bear to meet his eyes, so you keep your gaze downcast, intently focused on the way he slips the ring on your finger.

It’s not supposed to mean anything. Just work. Practicality more than something romantic. You’re spies and being married only makes it less likely that one of you will defect.

But for some reason it doesn’t feel that way. A moment shrouded in solemn intimacy. A promise. It feels that you’re bound to him, a stranger , just with the simple decent of a golden band down your finger. A covenant not meant to be entered into lightly — it’s an undeclared forfeiture of your life into the hands of another. So no, it’s not exactly romantic.

It’s something so much more.

“It’s official, eh? Mr. And Mrs. Smith.” Your hand still rests against the back of his and he makes no movement to release it.

You don’t much seem to mind.

You sleep in different beds, of course.

A habit formed with some difficulty, you’ll admit. There are times when you’ve parted ways in the hall like two men on the opposite ends of a duel — fingers curled around the trigger, waiting on the impulse to pull it. You’ve never given in but you’ve come close.

That fading post mission adrenaline leaves you pliable to your baser instincts, and you find yourself imagining all the ways he could make it better.

All the ways you could.

One night, in a hotel room in Verona, you found yourself skirting the precipice of giving in, with nothing but a 6 inch wall between the two of you.

You pictured it. Some other version of you, ready to take the plunge. This other you having the privilege of indifference in a make-believe realm wherein consequences don’t matter, and you tried to swallow the envy that rose up your throat like bile.

Tried and failed.

Your hands seem to move on their own accord as they slip between your thighs, your mind fabricating the illusion of his own taking their place.

A practiced dance of your imagination and dexterity that takes place often. More than you’d ever admit, even to yourself. You’d brand yourself in shame the morning after, and yet at night, all alone, you come at the thought of all the ways he’d take you.

He’s big. You know it.

You’ve caught glimpses of the outline of his cock in the bugle of his briefs like a voyeuristic pervert. He seemed big enough when flaccid, and you quivered.

You imagine the girth of him, hard and throbbing, promising all the ways he’d make it fit.

You use three fingers, push them deeper still and try to mimic the ways he’d fill you. You’re certain you fall short. He’d stretch you till your cunt had no give left, and then he’d stay there. Let you mold yourself to him, so he’d never feel the need to go elsewhere.

Knowing he’s within an earshot, you’re louder than you normally are. Much to the dismay of the men you’ve slept in the past, you were never vocal in bed. You’d reach orgasm, nearly mute and theatrics for the sake of male ego was something you couldn’t spare the patience for.

Tepid — that’s what they called you, disappointment oozing from each syllable.

You just couldn’t bare to disappoint John.

You put on what can only be considered a barefaced performance for the pure interest of his attention, expressing desires aloud you wouldn’t even dare admit in the privacy of your own self-contemplation. It spurs you on to climax, a fortissimo of vulgarity spewing from your lips.

In the aftermath you lay there breathless, caught unawares by just how far you took this little experiment of yours. Granted, it was all for John’s benefit but somewhere in the middle of it the pretence washed off you to reveal a gleam of authenticity.

Reeling from it, you’re unable to sleep a wink.

“Sleep well, then?” He asks you, the morning after.

“Uh huh. Some of the best night’s sleep I’ve had in my life, John.”

He looks at you like he’s about to call you out on it. Never does.

You resume your compartmentalized way of living soon after. Other than a shared fake name, your home, and the covert particulars of your questionable line of work, you two don’t share much.

Until a mission calls for it, you’ve managed to keep to yourselves a fair amount. You usually cross paths at mealtimes, which you never complain about since he wordlessly took it upon himself to do all the cooking, only letting you help clean.

Quaint domesticity at its finest.

“Safe to assume you chose high risk work as well.” He’d said over breakfast on your first morning there. “Why?”

You’d entered the kitchen to already find him there frying some eggs over the stove. You notice the little dining table to the side already set for two, a glass of orange juice poured for the both of you and toast points standing in their rack in the center of the table.

He gestured for you to take a seat before serving you a duo of over easy eggs and cup of coffee before taking his seat across.

Well, then.

Maybe there were some perks to this life of married domesticity after all.

“I thought I could use a challenge.” You offered him a half answer, as close to the truth as you could.

“And what was it that you did before this?” He asked

“Should you really be asking me that?” You countered.

“I think so, given that you’re my wife.”

My wife.

Enjoying the bit a little too much, aren’t ya John?

So were you, if you were being honest. But honestly never was your strongest suit.

“And why did you—?” You questioned him back in an effort to evade, “Pick high risk, I mean.”

“I’m ex-military, love. Figured I’d choose what I’m used to.” He answered you almost immediately, with not a hint of discomfort or thought of reserve. Either he was a fabulous liar—

Or he trusted you already.

And you didn’t know what to do with that.

“I like my eggs scrambled, by the way.

“Glad to know you feel comfortable your preferences for eggs with me, Jane.”

“Small steps, John.”

Six months in, and aside from a few close calls, you and John seemed to make a good team.

You’ve found that while he’s quick to improvise. Almost always, there’s a wrench thrown in the works, and while you might grapple over a changed course of action, he’s already adjusted to the new circumstances.

You’ve also found that he hates being separated from you in the field. You used to think it to be a manifestation of suspicion, to constantly have an eye on you.

Not that you’d blame him if it was. You weren’t exactly a fountain of knowledge when it came to sharing things of a personal nature. It would only be natural for a little mistrust to brew between a set of spies.

Married, or not.

You were disabused of that theory all too soon.

“Status update?”

“Made it through. I lost them.” You wheeze out, just barely.

“You good? You okay?” The fear in his voice is palpable through your earpiece as you stumble through to an alleyway and try to catch your breath. With the adrenaline waning off you finally feel the bullet that grazed your shoulder.

Flesh wound. You’ll live.

“Jane, fucking answer me.” He rasps, urgent and desperate. Like his sanity depends on your well-being.

It pisses you off, sometimes. Just how deeply he cares. Would you dare call him out on it, though? Now that you’ve been fed on it for months till your belly was ready to burst, like a stray turned house cat. Would you survive without it?

“I’m fucking winded, John. Just need to catch my breath. I’ll be better if we could get the fuck out of here and go—”

Home.

“—back.” You say, instead. “Let’s rendezvous at—”

“I’m coming to get you. Just stay put, yeah?”

“Jesus C—” You hiss through clenched teeth, pressing down the base of your palm into your shoulder to help slow the bleeding down. The pain of it shoots down your arm like veins of lightning, only adding to your irritation. “I’m not a child, for fuck’s—”

“Jane.” The tone of his voice shuts you up. There’s not an ounce of anger or annoyance in it. Only supplication.

Well, shit.

You knew from the very first day you met him — John was a man rooted in conviction. Hard to sway, even harder to deny.

“Fine. I’m waiting.”

He finds you hunched against the wall not 10 minutes later and you can see him visibly sag in relief. The moment he turned the corner and his eyes fell upon your own, his contracted brow-line receded, the rigidity in his stance eased, and the look on his face—

If the deities could speak to a man’s worship, you thought, this is what they would talk about.

“How bad is it?” He offers you a hand to help you stand, the other immediately seeking to find the wound hidden under the crimson blotted front of your shirt, tugging slightly at the neck of it to get a better look.

“I’m sure you’ve seen worse.” You suddenly feel all too shy at the thought of a little exposed skin in front of the man who is your husband. When his thumb grazes the underside of the wound, an unsuppressed flinch jostles you in his hold and his grip tightens.

“You’ll need stitches.” He murmurs, his movements now zephyr-like, fingers mindlessly wandering across the span of your collar bone. You can’t help but imagine the way he’d help you undress, fingers caught at the bottom seam of your shirt being gently lifted. His thumb hooking underneath — maybe just to unassumingly graze against the skin of your abdomen. Maybe to see what the rest of you would feel like against the warmth of his touch.

You’ve caught him staring — whenever you’re dressed bare in nothing but a tank top and loose pair of shorts, the lace hem of which dances so gently across the smooth expanse of your thigh. You’ve witnessed him stop in his tracks, his gaze trained downward for a moment too long to not be considered improper and just then you find it. The effervescent unsheathing of his jealousy, towards a garment of all things. It doesn’t stay long; you could blink and miss it.

But you don’t miss much.

So, when he helps you undress, later that night, and tends to your wound—

Would he stop there, you wonder?

Would you maybe want to find out?

The first time he does fully undress you, is on the eve of your first-year anniversary.

You’re greeted with a gift — a bottle of Laphroaig, 40 and garment bags with a little something for the both of you. Enclosed within an envelope is the note:

Congratulations on a successful first year of marriage.

“Be a shame for rest of it to go to waste.” You say, when John immediately reaches for the bottle. His thumb swipes across the label in an appreciative caress while he tips the cap in your direction as a way of asking drink this with me?

“Keen to dress up for me, love?” He unzips your bag to reveal a hint of luminescent satin — deepened cerulean, to match his eyes.

“I—”

“Because I am.”

You see it unfold before you — the extent of his imagination. Unfurling like an iris in bloom. His eye-line coasting across the length of your silhouette, pausing at slight intervals — the slope of your neck, the curve of your breasts, the pliable swathe of your abdomen. His fists clench in a trice and you feel the pulse of it hammering in your core.

A building reservoir of desire you’ve held back behind a dam of logic that strains beneath the weight furthermore.

He makes you feel at a loss — seemingly unpulsed by this conspicuous display of obscene want. Hunger for what is continuously denied.

Either he takes it on the chin like too good of a sport, or he simply hides it better than you do.

Either way—

You might as well try to even out the playing field.

With a rapid maneuver fuelled only by provocation and guile, you crook a finger along the collar of his button down, the palm of your other hand placed securely over his chest.

“I will, if you will.”

This was it — the fracture in the levee holding back a year’s worth of self-deception. With the curtain drawn on every enciphered impulse, you could finally meet him on equal, honest footing. The kindling that lay bare now set alight and you can only hope you aren’t scorched by it.

And if you are—

You pray it consumes you quick.

The rest of the evening just kind of blends together — three finger pours, a little music, some dancing, if you could even call it that.

John’s generosity with the scotch turned you sloppy, with all your past attempts at decorum now semi-liquid — like a condensed pour of honey out the jar.

“Dance with me, Jane.”

“Just want to get your hands on m’, don’t ya? Clingy fucker.”

Pot, meet kettle, you think to yourself.

Drunk or not, at least you’re self-aware.

It’s in the middle of the night when you jostle awake, with a dry mouth and a hammering in your skull that you feel in your teeth. Somehow, you made it to bed. Still dressed.

You smooth a palm across the creased satin encasing your body, bunching the fabric into your fists absentmindedly.

“Couldn’t bare to take you out of it just yet.”

You’re caught off guard to find John lounging in the chair in the corner of your room, your dulled senses inhibiting the reflex to reach for your gun.

“Never sneak up on a spy, John. Could’a shot you dead if I wasn’t this fucking hungover.”

“Thank God for small mercies. You’d make an awful widow.” His tone bleeds irony but there’s an undertone to it. It’s one you don’t recognize.

He’s since rid himself of his jacket and cufflinks, with the first few buttons undone and his sleeves rolled up and his arms crossed over his chest that rises and falls with every deliberate breath he takes. The picture of nonchalant inertia to the unknowing eye.

Not you, though.

You see the simmering thirst in a man who has been parched for too long, the certainty set in his eyes in search of an oasis—

And something else. An offshoot growing from the root of brackish resentment you can’t quite place.

And maybe, just maybe you worry you’re about to have your heart broken.

Not that you’d ever tell him.

“Fuck you.” You mutter, indignantly, massaging the bridge of your nose in an effort to ease the ache.

With lithe and measured movements, John approaches you. Through your peripherals you watch his feet get closer and closer with every step, until he’s inches away. With a firm-handed pull at your chin, he forces your gaze towards him— that indescribable tincture yet staining his features.

His head tilts imperceptibly, eyes narrowing in determination while he decides….what?

Whether to fuck you? Whether to leave you be and maintain the suffocating, acetic undercurrent you’ve maintained for an entire year in keeping your hands to yourself?

Whether to—

You stop your deliberations straight in their tracks as his hold on you tightens ever so slightly, his thumb disengaging from the rest to glide across your bottom lip.

Pulsing headache aside, you feel your entire being throb in anticipation.

“John—”

“Hush,” He takes advantage of your parted lips, probing the seam of them a little deeper. “Let a man savour a moment, for fuck’s sake.”

Seconds dissolve into minutes, as you wait with bated breath. Each lungful heavier than the last under the stifling pressure of a singular moment being pulled taut beyond belief.

“Jane, darling?” His voice is a mere whisper.

“Hmm?”

“How badly do you want to be fucked right now?”

A sizzle of defiance erupts deep in your belly. The urge to impugn stings the tip of your tongue when you see it. That look. That look that pummels down any defence you could even hope to construct. It demands sincerity, even when you can barely muster it on a good day let alone hungover and painfully aroused.

So, in the place of a rejoinder that would leave you both sexually frustrated and teetering the edge of combustion, you say the truth.

“So fucking badly, John. For months. Possibly from the moment we met.”

What hits you in that moment is disconcerting mixture of emotions: part relief at the unburdening of long-held truths, part self-consciousness at the ease in which just you’ve confessed them.

The latter dissolves almost immediately when you watch the resulting smile that etches itself across his face. A smile that screams pride. Absolution. The kind you’d find on a man who finally reached the peak of his dreams.

You were his Everest. Finally conquered.

“That’s my girl.”

His words leave you breathless. It’s not the first time he’s called you his, so it isn’t the novelty of the statement that floors you. It’s the fact that for the first time in a year, you recognize it to be true.

You’re his — been his for some time now.

The epiphany goes to your head like strong drink — and right on the heels of your previous state of inebriety, it’s all too much to take.

“Fuck, John. Just—” Whatever you might’ve said next is devoured by him in an abrubt dive to kiss you. It’s fervent and messy, all tongue and teeth leaving the viscid traces of saliva across your lips, jaw, and neck.

It’s an unremitting onslaught of his lips and hands — him touching you, tasting you at a pace you couldn’t dream of outrunning. Sometime in the midst of it, he’s managed to strip you both down without missing a beat. I’ll take care of it, my darling, he’d said when you protested to the number of layers that still lay between the two of you.

That was the thing about John. He’d not let a single demand of yours go unsatisfied. A depraved part of you wondered how far you could draw it out, test his endurance. Find the limit and shame him for it.

Needless to say, you never did.

Not out of decency, a trait of which you were always found deficient. It was only out of the fear of having had something unattainable only to eventually lose it. Fact of the matter is, there would be no limit to what you could ask of him.

Onto to simpler requests, then.

“Fuckin’ need you inside of me.”

His cock fills you up just as you’d expected— stretched to capacity, the head of his cock grazing against your cervix with a couple of inches to spare. You hiss through your teeth, your nails digging into his back to recompense for the building pressure.

“Shit, John. Fu—uck—” You pant, lungs convulsing beneath the strain of his weight pressing down on you, skin meeting skin at every possible junction.

“Should’a let me work you out first, then.” He grunts, lips latching on to the shell of your ear.

He forced an arm between the two of you, his fingers find your clit, drawing gentle circles. A direct juxtaposition to the shallow quick paced thrusts, while his other arm snakes around to border the crown of your skull. A preemptive measure for a good and thorough fucking.

Eventually the burn at the rim of your cunt subsides and you take more of him than you could’ve ever imagined. Right to the hilt. He draws back out, just halfway and looks, as if to admire his handiwork before slamming back in with a reverberant so fuckin’ tight, so fuckin’ good or some variation of the praise over and over.

A year’s worth of raked up want comes cresting over this one night— he fucks you once more with the privilege of leisure the second time around. When you’re fucked out, slack-jawed with a raw cunt dripping cum, he croons with self-satisfaction and promises you’ll take him again.

You do, naturally. Drunk on the smell of sex which weighs down the air in the room, obedience comes easy.

He’s gentler this time, softer in the way he touches you. Fingers raking over flushed, sweaty skin. His tongue gliding over every inch of you, twice over, like he means to really savour it. Catalogue what every part of you tastes like should this be the only chance he gets. He fucks you slow and deep, a litany of indebtedness perpetuating every movement.

There are things about him you commit to memory, as well. The lingering taste of his last cigar that glides across your tongue when he kisses you. The flickering pulse in his brow when he’s close. The weight of his cock sheathed within you, the sting that comes with it.

When the haze of prolonged unfed lust unfurls with a yawn of satiety, you find all that remains is a sense of premonition.

Of a tragic and bitter end.

#john price x reader #John price #john price smut #john price fic #TECHNICALLY I could end it with this but how rude would that be??

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mrsoharaa · 3 months

Text

Ꮺ ❥ 𝑯𝒚𝒑𝒐𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆

characters: Miguel O'hara x Reader

content warnings: angst, swearing, betrayal, unrequited love (??), Miguel being a hypocrite, hurtttt (lmao sorry, was in the mood for some good ol' yummy angst! :'3).

a/n: lmao I'm writing this at 2am, so more then likely a few grammar mistakes! sorry! (also, this probably won't make any sense since I wrote this half asleep? lmfao) I just read / came across some gooood angsty Miguel fics and just wanted to blurb one out of my own </3 don't worry, I'll (hopefully) make something more gleeful / giddy / smutty later! ꒰ㅅ´ ꒳ ` ꒱♡

You stand there at the frame of the door, motionless, deadpan on listening to the skin raking sounds of pitched moans and slurred curses chiming ever so lucidly from behind the wooden barrier.

"F-fuck, right t-there Miguel!" the sound of Felicia's delicate, strained sweet tone skims ever so gratingly against your crawling flesh. A tampered heartbeat breaking against your heaving chest, your vision becoming blurred and out of focused.

Your right hand shakily lifts up to the placement of where your heart nestles. Crippling and digging promptly, securely onto the fabric of your fitted suit that clung onto your stilled body.

It was suppose to be a mission.

It was suppose to be just you and him.

How did everything turned out this way?

...What did you do make you deserve this?

Your tears begin to cluster thickly against your flushed lashes, your legs trembling slightly as the revolting, lewd noises continued to flutter against the solidity of the door before you. You felt your gut wrenching and twisting in sheer disgust and hurt.

You had always loved him.

Always had a wandering and longing eye for your stoic, brawny boss.

You had fell for his quick wits, his unwavering devotion to protect, his brimming brilliance. Everything.

And yet the moment she came along, you knew everything would inevitably changed. With such luscious long, snowy hair, bright glimmering eyes of forest green and a slim body to match her radiant, perfect appearance- you couldn't blame Miguel for feing so attracted to such a divine looking woman.

Your teeth grits firmly amongst each other, getting too absorbed into your own drowning thoughts of self doubt, pity and ascended self conscious. You hadn't realized the door that tremored with such vile turbulence had been pried wide open before you.

Your entire being completely froze as your heart drops to the pit of your churning stomach. Masked eyes blown out entirely wide but focused on the soaring, familiar figure standing before you. Noting the sudden realization draw across his bare, strong features along his beautiful face.

His lips part open to mutter something, but you were too quick to give him the simple satisfaction to formulate words to exchange towards you.

You hastily pull out your palm flatly out to him and sigh breathily beneath your mask.

"Save it. I've already wrapped everything up on this mission." your voice trembled slightly, but kept a firm foundation to it's monotone. Your head shifts to the right, avoiding his imminent stare.

"My report will be in by tomorrow morning. Hope she was worth the fuck" you huff out, swiftly turning on your heels and opening up a portal back to your dimension. Threatening him not to follow you.

What a fucking hypocrite.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #atsv

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cherryo · 3 months

Text

nsfw alphabet for Denji <3

Nsfw alphabet Denji!!!

this is entirely self indulgent!! ive been drooling over him for the past month

warnings: pregnancy, collars, creampie and fem genitalia

A- Aftercare (what theyre like afterwards)

At first I doubt he really knew what to do and would leave you with cum all over and in you while he would just roll over. As soon as he knew what it was hes like THE KING OF IT!!!! Hes bringing anything you need or want!! Water? He’s jumping off the bed to grab a cup and pitcher with water and ice. A nice bath? Hes got it running already and will happily wash you!! I really think he would do anything for the one he loves so this is easy for him.

B- Body (what their favorite body part is of themselves and their partner)

His favorite of himself I think would probably be his arms? Idk why he just screams arms guy? Hes proud of the muscle and how easily he can pick you up and fold you in half with them.

Boobs. Nah fr though its definitely titties, small, big, medium? It does not matter!!! Hes leaving hickies all over them and taking care of them <3 kneeding and massaging, grabbing to stabilize himself if hes on top! For sure sucking on them if hes on the bottom!

C - Cum (anything to do with cum)

Okay,,,,I think he loves cumming on and in you, but LOVES LOVES LOVES cumming in you!!!cant handle it when you consent to him letting go inside of you, hes a freak. If he can come in you, you better be prepared cause to him that means hes gotta do it as many times as he can before pulling out!!!

I do think he loves cumming on you and seeing the visible evidence of what you guys did, he cleans it up when you ask but he really just wants it to be on you the entire time yall are fucking.

D- Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

Hes obsessed with panty sniffing, or anything to do with panties, he wants to fuck you while theyre on, have a pair on his dick while he jerks off. The whole nine yards, when you two fuck and are too feral or lazy to fully undress he goes bonkers. Loves the idea and action of pushing your panties to the side so he can slide in!!!

He also wants you to sit on his face!!!

He has so many of these but he wants to wake up/wake you up to being given head!! Or being fucked ;)

E- Experience (how experienced they are)

None. I think he thinks hes like a sex god after reading and watching porn, but alas when he goes to do it he realizes just how difficult it is to pleasure a girl and maintain rhythm.

Hes a quick learner though

F- Favorite position

DOGGY OHML HE GOES FUCKING FERAL!!! He loves bending you over and gripping your hips to pound into you. The thought of being able to push your head into your pillows or whatever surface you’ve been bent onto.

He also likes a good ol’ mating press, he likes seeing the faces you make and seeing just how far you can be folded in half. He also loves the fact that he can reach a deeper spot in this position and how fast it makes you cum! The easy access to your clit is also a bonus.

G-Goofy (how serious or goofy they are during the moment)

I think hes extremely goofy, his personality doesnt change at all <3 he thinks its sweeter if he can make jokes and be himself rather than become serious and not be himself!

H-Hair (how groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes)

Not groomed at all, he feels more naked shaved and waxed. He really only trims it, I feel like he would have like a forest down there! He really loves when his hair down there is wet from the both of yalls juices <3

I think his pubes are darker than the hair on his head!

I- Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect of it)

Honestly, I think in general hes very romantic and strives to be intimate. However in this situation he has no room to be romantic, he’s pussy drunk and cannot think of anything else than your pussy and body and the fact hes fucking you

J-Jackoff (how often do they masturbate?)

This mans right arm is jacked. He does it like twice every day, he has so much cum that even if he does that he can easily fuck you for HOURS later. He usually does it in the morning to get rid of his morning wood <3 that’s really only if youre not in bed with him.

He enjoys it, he also really enjoys mutual masturbation, he thinks its really nice

K-Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink: highest kink I think he has, he doesn’t necessarily want kids now or later (I highly doubt he wants to bring kids into this life lol) but the thought of you being round with HIS kid makes him go crazyyyyyy!!! He also likes not using condoms or pulling out (he’ll do either if you ask him to!)

Praise: we know from the manga that he goes insane for praise, specifically from girls. When you tell him hes a good boy, he goes 10x faster just to hear you moan it out again and again. If you tell him hes making you feel good or doing a good job, he’ll moan and whine out thank yous

L-Location (their favorite place to do it)

Mostly his or your rooms, hes not comfortable with doing it in public or anywhere not in his apartment.

M-Motivation (what gets them going? What turns them on?)

Literally anything you do, like you could be folding laundry and hed pounce on you. If you were dresses or skirts just be aware of him lifting the back of it up and pounding you from behind.

Knee high socks, frilly socks, leg warmers, the whole thing. I feel he likes the look of those accessories, he just goes feral for them.

Hes already horny 24/7 so hes ready to go all the time.

N-No (something they wouldnt do)

Public sex. Hes very protective and slightly obsessive over you and wants no one but him to see you so vulnerable (and sexy)

Threesomes, I feel like a lot of people want him and aki to have a 3some with the reader but I don’t think hed want that? As hot as it is lol I love reading those fics but for the same reasons I doubt he actually would do that

O-Oral (do they like head? Giving or receiving more?)

YES YES YES!!! HE LOVES GETTING HEAD AND GIVING HEAD!!!

He feels so so so good every time you give him head, I think his dick is super super sensitive especially his tip!

He loves making you feel good and what other than eating you out and giving you orgasm over and over again would make you feel good lol also smth about eating you out whether hes on top of you or youre sitting on his face, he loves it. Like goes insane for it!!!

P-Pace (are they going rough and fast? Slow and sensual?)

Rough and fast!!! He feels so good like that! If you ask him to slow down he will but he’d rather go at a fast and bruising pace!

Q- Quickie (their opinions, how often)

None in public BUT AT YALLS HOUSE? YES YES YES!!!! This man has to work HARD not to come immediately after he slips in, so this is perfect for him! Especially if hes sleepy and wants to do it but also wants to sleep

R-Risk (are they game to experiment?do they take the risk?)

Yes and no? I think hed be against it in public, but if his friends are staying over and you/him are horny then YES!!! He loves the thought of people hearing how good he makes you feel but just not seeing you

S-Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

At first none, like literally two pump king. After a while though when hes built it up hed be able to go 10 rounds easily!

T-Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He has none for himself but hes got different vibrators for you, especially those panty vibrators with the controllers >:)

I think he would be open to cock rings though!

U-Unfair (how much they like to tease )

Oh my fucking god!!!!! He doesn’t mean to be but he just needs you to have the best orgasm every time, so if it doesn’t sound good to him then he’ll let you cool down and try again. No matter how many times it needs to be restarted. He also accidentally overstims the both of you by never pulling out and continuously fucking you.

V-Volume (how loud are they, what sounds do they make?)

Good lord, this man is so fucking loud!!!!!! Like holy shit hes moaning, groaning, whining, grunting, sounding like a fucking animal with growling theyre such intense and hot sounds that you just cant get enough of them.

W-Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

This is completely based on the first volumes cover and the fact hes referred as a dog/puppy throughout the series but I think he would love to have one of those giant clunky collars on. maybe not necessarily into the whole ‘leash and collar’ thing but more of just he pressure on his neck that your hands cant provide

X-X-ray (lets see whats going on under those clothes)

OKAY OKAY IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE!!!!

Big dick.

No but really, definitely 7 inches hard, I wanna say hes a show-er rather than a grower.

Curves slightly to the right and very veiny!! Its really pink, super sensitive and leaky.

Y-Yearning ( how high is their sex drive?)

Hes yearning 25/8!!!!!! He knows how to some what control himself,,,,,,but hes constantly wanting to be inside your warm pussy. He wants to go round after round, once he got a taste he just cant get enough. Z-ZZZ (how fast do they fall asleep after?) HES OUT ONCE YOU GUYS ARE DONE FOR SURE. Hes so so so so sleepy all the time, so when youre satisfied and hes satisfied and hes done his duty of aftercare, hes out.

#chaserambles #chasewrites #denji #denji x reader #denji smut #chainsaw man #csm smut #csm x reader #x reader

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steddieas-shegoes · 10 months

Note

hiiii could i possibly request something with the good ol' "steve is insecure with his place in the group/his intelligence/his worth compared to the rest of the party" cliche with reassurances in the form of copious amounts of cuddles and kisses and pet names from eddie? you're so great for doing these and i'm eagerly waiting for the next chapter of call me sunshine <3

Not Steve "self-doubt" Harrington convincing himself he can't be loved because he doesn't fit in or provide "useful" things to the group!!! I am lowkey hoping someone maybe adds to make this explicit because something about them having to be quiet in a tent just sounds like it has potential idk. Eddie is so in love in this it makes me SICK. - Mickala ❤️ (@scoops-stevie)

----------------------------------------------------

When Steve suggested that they do something fun together for the weekend, he meant maybe going into the city or renting a lake house maybe.

He definitely didn’t mean camping.

Outdoor camping was Dustin’s idea, and all the kids had agreed quickly. Robin bowed out the moment she could come up with a decent excuse and he could tell that Eddie wanted to do the same but wouldn’t abandon him.

Hopefully.

Eddie had quietly offered to steal another RV, but Steve turned it down.

“You just started getting back in the good graces of most of the town, let’s not give them a reason to hate you again.”

So they packed up the van with all the camping supplies they collectively had: three tents (one for the girls, one for the boys, one for Steve and Eddie), a couple coolers full of drinks and food, a few chairs, flashlights, sleeping bags, and clothes.

Steve wasn’t great at reading maps, so he let Dustin ride passenger to help Eddie find where they were going.

He sat with the girls, mostly because he liked the way they just ignored everyone and everything and talked amongst each other about mundane things.

He may not always understand what they’re talking about, but he liked being a part of it.

He almost never understood what they were talking about actually.

But it was better than having everything the boys were talking about go right over his head.

Especially when they started arguing about stuff and talked so fast that Steve had no chance of keeping up.

Steve just kind of watched as everyone around him had conversations.

He tried not to think about how everyone was existing without him in a way.

He was here, but he wasn’t needed.

—-----------------------

When they arrived at the campsite, it was even more secluded than they thought it would be.

It was also only a couple hours until sunset and they all had to make sure the tents were set up properly before it was too dark to see.

Steve got started with his tent while Eddie helped the girls. Max still had limited movement in her wrists so she was given the task of setting the chairs around the fire pit that Lucas and Mike had formed.

Steve was struggling.

He’d only put up one tent before, and it was at summer camp where the counselor and four other boys had been helping. In all honesty, he’d pretty much managed to watch the whole time instead of help.

He would manage to get part of it up, but it would fall apart when he tried to do the other side. He kept losing the pieces to keep it tied down to the ground.

He was losing against an inanimate object.

Everyone else was doing fine; Joking and laughing and finishing up their tasks like they didn’t have to put all their focus into one thing at a time.

El wordlessly started helping him, and he knew she wasn’t judging him, but he couldn’t help the small part of his brain that was telling him that she thought he was stupid.

He was quiet for the rest of the evening.

They cooked hot dogs over the fire that Will started, then made s’mores since El had never had them before.

He watched and listened, smiled when everyone else was.

But he felt overcome with sadness that he just didn’t belong here.

He was the babysitter, he took care of them, and drove them around, and helped them survive alternate dimension monsters.

He didn’t know how to talk to them about the stuff they liked, or play their stupid dragon game. He could barely keep up with half the things they said.

“Hey guys, I’m gonna turn in for the night,” he said suddenly, interrupting something Mike had been saying to everyone.

Everyone looked at him with sad looks, but Eddie looked concerned.

“You okay? Is it a headache?” He asked.

Damn, he hadn’t even thought of a good excuse. At least Eddie was providing him one for free.

“Yeah, just a little one. I think if I sleep now it’ll be fine by morning.”

The taste of the lie in his mouth made his lip curl slightly. The words “friends don’t lie” replayed in his brain as he stood up and made his way to his tent at the far end of their setup.

No one tried to stop him, but he could feel their eyes on him as he unzipped his tent and then zipped it back up behind him.

They’d set up lamps inside each tent so that they could reserve flashlights for bathroom trips or emergencies. His was the kind you can dim, so he did. He took off his shoes and jeans, changing into the t-shirt he brought from home that was probably Eddie’s now that he was looking closer at it.

He’d brought his pillow from home because he couldn’t possibly sleep flat on the ground, and Eddie had brought one of his own because he still had some back pains when he slept wrong.

He curled up in his sleeping bag, holding Eddie’s pillow against his chest.

He felt a tear start to run down his face without his permission, not even sure why he was crying right now.

He heard the zipper and tried to shut his eyes quickly, hide his face in the pillow in hopes that Eddie would think he was really asleep.

“Hey darlin’. Mind if I join?” Eddie whispered.

Steve couldn’t ignore him, so he nodded and started to move the pillow from his chest and face.

“Oh, sweetheart. Why are you crying?”

Steve shook his head. He couldn’t even begin to explain.

“Can I hold you?”

Steve let out a sob, and Eddie didn’t wait for him to answer.

He was laying down next to Steve, pulling him against his chest and running his hands up and down his back.

“Is it a migraine? Do you need me to get some ice from the cooler? Or medicine from the van?”

“No, not a migraine.”

“Okay. Is it just a bad night?”

Steve couldn’t help the fondness he felt at that.

Eddie was so understanding, and incredible, and perfect. Steve didn’t deserve him just like he didn’t deserve the rest of these people.

“Stevie, it’s okay to have a bad night. Sometimes they just happen, right? That’s what you always tell me.”

Eddie’s hand had found its way to Steve’s hair, slowly running through the strands, occasionally looping the ends around a finger.

It sent chills down Steve’s spine when his fingers brushed against his neck so gently.

“I just don’t belong here.”

“I’ll admit the outdoors is not really my favorite place either, but-”

“No, not. Not the outdoors. Here. With everyone.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Eddie’s hand had frozen in his hair and on his back.

“I’m not smart. I’m not good at putting things together or fixing things. I can’t even be in most of their conversations. They keep me around because they don’t know how to get rid of me. I mean, they don’t even need a babysitter anymore!”

Steve’s tears were dripping onto Eddie’s shirt, making a mess.

Another reason he shouldn’t be around.

Eddie tilted his face up, nothing but love in his eyes.

“I want you to listen to me. You are needed in this group. You are wanted in this group. You are loved in this group. Do you really think a bunch of teenagers would be wasting a weekend camping with you when they could be going to the movies or the arcade or getting into trouble?”

Steve didn’t answer, but he sniffled as he watched Eddie get more passionate.

“And it is absolute bullshit that you’re not smart. How many times have you been the one to figure out something, whether it was during Upside Down shit or not? How many times have you been the one with common sense? You’re more than a babysitter, my love. You’ve always been more than that to all of them.”

They laid there in silence for a few minutes, Steve soaking in Eddie’s words as Eddie continued to comfort him in the way he needed.

“I just feel like I need to be more useful. I don’t want them to get bored or annoyed because I can’t be part of their world,” he finally said, his voice shaking.

“Angel, they love you for who you are. Just like I love you for who you are. You fit where you fit because that’s what the group needs. They don’t need another Dustin to always make connections because of one obscure fact relating to something he read once when he was nine. They don’t need another El to fight their battles.They need the Steve who is going to go along with whatever they want to do so he can protect them if and when things go wrong. They need the Steve who is always there to support them even with the most mundane things.”

“I couldn’t even set up the tent by myself.”

“None of us could. I had help. That’s why I told El to help you. None of us can do stuff alone, love. You’re putting expectations on yourself that no one else is putting on you.”

Steve shuddered.

He’d been pretty famous for doing that for years.

Once his parents stopped caring at all, he started caring too much.

And now he expected more of himself than anyone else ever would.

He’d set himself up to fail. At least in his own eyes.

“Did that finally get into that concussed brain of yours?” Eddie said, smirk evident in his tone.

Steve playfully slapped his chest and hid his face against his tear-soaked shirt.

“I guess maybe it did. A little,” he said.

“Good. You know I love you more than the stars, right?”

“And the moon?”

“And the galaxies in space.”

Steve settled further against Eddie’s side.

“I love you, too,” he sighed out, feeling content for probably the first time this entire trip.

In the morning, he’d start over, let his brain rest. He’d make everyone breakfast and then help them all make sure they were prepared for their short hike. He’d pack them sandwiches and extra water bottles in case they ended up walking further than they planned. And when they all got back to the campsite the next night, he’d make s’mores with them.

He’d ignore the voice telling him that he wasn’t enough for any of them, and he’d be enough for himself.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #the party #request #ficlet #hurt/comfort #i ship steve's self doubt and eddie's overwhelming need to tell him he's perfect

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oathkeeper-of-tarth · 5 months

Text

So, I was curious about this tidbit from the Patch 5 notes and I haven't seen anyone talk about it. Turns out one of my favourite new bits of content related to my favourite character is hidden behind betraying her in the most horrid way possible. Ugh.

It used to be that if you sided with Lorroakan in the Nightsong quest, you, him, and all the elemental myrmidons (and possibly Rolan) would just fight Aylin alone - a fight that obviously lasted one round, tops, and I think could only serve to make you feel bad about what you've just done.

Now, however, a really cool thing happens - Mum Gets Fucking Pissed. And four of Aylin's cool older celestial cousins (a nice new take on Slivers for my ol' 3e heart) come down to help her in the fight.

Amusingly, they put Aylin in timeout in a moon-flavoured Globe of Invulnerability every turn, which also makes her unable to attack or do much, even with her trusty moonbeam.

So you need to break their concentration (often on more than one of them at a time) in order to be able to even touch Aylin. Everyone being very angry and protective of her is A+++.

A good roll of that 12d12 can just delete characters instantly. Beautiful.

Aylin also gets some very direct buffs, primarily Hug From Mum, and we have waited far, far too long for that:

I just found this oddly touching, that she gets to have at least this bit of very outright reassurance, even if it is under rather horrible circumstances. And ironic, of course, that if you help her and triumph with her in glorious combat (Lo!) against yet another bastard would-be captor, she doesn't, and is left to grapple with her anger and doubt and nascent feelings of abandonment:

Player: Let his demise serve as a warning to anyone else who'd seek you out. Dame Aylin: Let him be the last. If my dear mother has any mercy, she will ensure it. [Trying to stay her usual self, but her mask is cracking a tiny bit here. Privately, Aylin is dealing with a great deal of anger toward her mother, the goddess Selûne, but she's not yet willing to face it. How could her powerful mother let all this happen to her?]

Or the more determined-sounding but depressingly "no rest for the glorious Sword of the Silverlight" variants you can get if Isobel is alive:

#selune please your kid needs a fucking break #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #dame aylin #nightsong #lorroakan #bg3 spoilers #i had to load a save and betray her myself to see this it was awful #THESE HANDS WILL NEVER BE CLEAN AGAIN #me seeing those buffs: IT'S WHAT SHE DESERVES #something something my mother is the moon... that's rough buddy #anyway the way she delivers that “...and ever must be” rips directly at my heartstrings

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boxofthings · 5 months

Note

got any roach-centric fic recs? like idc the pairing, ghostroach/soaproach/ghostsoaporach any thats roach focused plzz

*cracks knuckles* I GOTCHU ANON this is my time to shine

If anyone wants to reply with their own pls do!

(These are in no particular order)

GhostRoach:

i left my heart in the mountains (right next to yours)

I'm going to want you 'til the stars evaporate

and here i stand (in the dirt with you)

These are all by Santihan and ugghh these were the fics that pulled me back from my near decade-long ghostroach obsession sabbatical. Well-written, emotional, they are amazing, my favs, I will rec these til I die (the first two are painful :'))

Things That Burn by abel_obel

Such a good one, I always go back to this when I'm in a ghostroach mood. Good ol' classic person A gets injured and person B freaks out

Roach Wouldn't Really Do It...

Exhaustion's a Funny Thing

Both by tinyduckies! Def read the TWs for the first one, but arghhh, I go back to these ones a lot!. I really like how the first one's more realistic/gritty when it comes to the aftermath of surviving Loose Ends

Second one's just a lovely depiction of Ghost and Roach's dynamic. Loved the banter and the second chapter ends real sweetly :)

The Barracks: Part 2

Ulterior Motives

Both by doberman, these two are much longer fics (which ghostroach is in desperate need of) and are such interesting reads!!

The first one is an AU that takes place in a pub with Ghost being his repressed, unhealthy self, and Roach coming in as the new co-worker to sweep him off his feet lol

The second one is ongoing and takes place slightly after MWII with Ghost meeting Roach outside of deployment

Sovereign by Applescone

God, this one really puts me in an introspective mood. It's so well-written and just feels so grounded and human. Takes place years after Loose Ends, with Ghost and Roach rekindling their relationship whilst dealing with the complications of Shepherd's betrayal and death

我给你早在你出生前多年的一个傍晚看到的一朵黄玫瑰的记忆 by Alex_Upshur

Ok I know this is in Chinese, but just use a translator like I did and yeah, while it won't be as accurate as the author wrote it, it's still a really lovely fic and i adore it :') A lil bittersweet look into the 141's lives and sweet moments with Ghost and Roach <3

Of Doubts and Dreams (Retold)

The Hook Up

All written by Call_Of_Booty, an og ghostroach author from wayyy back during the og trilogy (and ff.net) days. The first one's a rewrite of one of their old fics and it focuses on Roach and Ghost's dynamic up until the night before Loose Ends.

Second one's about Roach deciding to leave the SAS whilst he and Ghost have complicated feelings for eachother due to past hookups. Both great reads!

Distance Makes the Heart Pissed Off by krwaken

I'm sure every GhostRoach shipper knows this one lol. A lovely 200k word slowburn of these two <3

Fear & Delight by EpiKatt

Hornet's Nest with more GhostRoach :))

Tell Me Why This Has to End by Feral_Raccoon

ANGST :( Post-Loose Ends. Ending broke me haha

and you wrote your name / right there next to mine by cheese_n_crack

more Loose Ends angst :( A bittersweet ending with Ghost and Roach looking at the stars in their final moments

You'll Get Sick Anyways by ghostslefttit

Very short, but very cute lil fic with Ghost taking care of a sick Roach :))

If We Crash (I Hope We Do) by mintyiecat

Man I can't even begin to describe how much I love this one. Portrays Ghost and Roach's relationship post-loose ends where Roach is now a civilian. Loved how the author depicted their relationship as not flawless. Felt very human and raw. Very sweet ending :)

GhostSoapRoach

Something in the Orange by fixfoxnox

Y'all been knew this would be on here lol

Follows Roach's pov where he's been reincarnated into the reboot timeline with all his memories from his old life and him trying to make his way back to Ghost. This one makes me sad as hell. Has all the feels :')

Something in the Orange by insomniamemoirs & RandomWordsAndStormyDays

Funny how my top two GSR fics are named the same thing, but hey, they're both amazing. I was apprehensive because of the "calling Soap Roach by accident" trope, however they really diverted my expectations and made these three really feel like equals in a relationship. Really love how they made sure to establish a strong dynamic between Soap and Roach instead of pitting them against each other. And Roach isn't just some 2D character here, he's very nuanced and I love it!

Freezing Waters by AmphibianEft

Sweet fic of Roach getting injured and Soap and Ghost freaking out and taking care of him

Stress Relief by Anonymous

Just Soap and Ghost taking care of Roach after Hornet's Nest (smut) :)

SoapRoach

Leg Day by tinyduckies

Good ol' smut lol (09 soaproach mm)

Everything That Isn't Said by pajamabees

More 09 smut

Taste by fixfoxnox

Just 3.5k words of Roach wanting to kiss his captain :)

fall for me by punishervest

Just a sweet moment between 09 Soap and Roach with Soap reminiscing on his past with Price but also considering how he wants something more with Roach <3

She (Means Everything To Me) by mylareading

Just 1.9k words of Soap being down bad for Roach (super sweet)

Roanig (Roach x Konig)

I Really Like The Way You Stare At Me by turqu0ise

The fic that introduced me to roanig <3 Just a cute fic focusing on the development of their relationship

Subatomic by tinyduckies

Another nice fic focused on the development of their relationship. Loved the interactions they had in this :)

These are the ones I have so far! I'm sure later on I can add to the list, and if anyone wants to reply with their own feel free :)

I've also been made aware there are Keegan/Roach fics, but I haven't gotten around to reading them yet, but def check out their tag anon! Hope this was an adequate rec list haha

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sunnitheapollokid · 2 months

Text

. * ๑ ❀՞ ,, "who said sunshine and alchemy don't mix?"

varian x sunshine-coded reader! 💌

📫 sunni’s notes : these are my first headcanons & i literally love rapunzel she is literally me no doubt about it!!! anyyyhooo enjoy <3

first meeting!

✧ after var’s villain arc is when you met!

✧ you arrived with rapunzel while meeting her on her adventure expedition to follow the black rocks, you guys clicked instantly.

✧ when varian first saw you, he was reminded of rapunzel so much.

✧ though, you we’re much more flirty & just a tat more energetic.

✧ “YOU WORK ON ALCHEMY?! i’ve always wanted to try it!! but you know.. adventuring.. blah blah blah.”

✧ varian was a little caught off guard of how much of a chatterbox you were, but he’s friends with rapunzel! so…

✧ the dynamic was very much yapper x listener.

best friends!

✧ you two started to grow more as friends when he found you crying at attila’s, stress-eating cupcakes.

✧ “you don’t have to be cheery all the time (nickname). you’re great, being kind.. and—“

✧ “thank you, var.”

✧ varian was always such a nervous wreck.

✧ you were just your charming self!

✧ you two were so close, quirin would just let you in and you’d just come by and barge into his lab at old corona.

✧ varian would lose you around town whenever you’d go together and run some errands, like.. watching a child.

✧ “varian why are you wrapping a balloon on my wrist?”

✧ varian was a night person, and you were more of a morning person.

✧ “(NICKNAME) GET OFF ME IM TRYING TO SLEEP HERE!!”

✧ “ITS 12 IN THE AFTERNOON?!?”

✧ you would drag him to the festivals in corona, even with his 12 projects piling on top of each other.

✧ you’d also teach him some skincare hacks to get rid of the bags under his eyes!

✧ varian however loved how enthusiastic you were and how excited you were about alot of things.

✧ though.. safe to say you were banned from his lab ever since you dropped that vial from fidgeting around.

when he realized he was crushing on you!

✧ he started crushing on you around the time he was really going through it with his sleep schedule.

✧ he was dead on the couch when the door creaked open and he found you bringing him some ham sandwiches and hot chocolate.

✧ you fed him that night and helped him up.

✧ “varian, if you can’t take care of yourself. i will!”

✧ the boy had heart eyes.

when you realized you were crushing on him!

✧ it was one of the karaoke nights of the snuggly duckling!

✧ varian was called to the front and was asked to sing.

✧ and oh my gods.

✧ he sang in such an angelic manner, you were practically lifting from your seat.

✧ in one of the more romantic parts of the song, he looked over at you.

✧ your heart was beating so fast, and boom!

✧ little miss sunshine was crushing.

dating!

✧ well who’s surprised? you asked him out.

✧ poor alchemy boy was so flustered, you could use him to heat up your leftovers.

✧ “you owe me my money eugene.”

✧ obviously rapunzel and eugene betted over you two.

✧ for being the one asked out, he was way more nervous than you.

✧ “i’m sorry (nickname). i wanted this to be perfect for you.”

✧ “you’re perfect.”

✧ you know those hops raps does before kissing eugene at their wedding? you did that before kissing him that night.

✧ from then on, he started calling you nicknames like, sunshine, or darling!

✧ you liked calling him sweetie, or bub!

✧ you’d flirt alot with him, despite dating, and had many pick-up lines up your sleeve.

✧ you’d get caught off guard whenever he’d flirt back, because HE’S ACTUALLY REALLY GOOD AT FLIRTING.

✧ you guys acted like how you were as best friends to be honest! just much more touchy.

✧ speaking of which!

✧ varian’s love language is acts of service and words of affirmation.

✧ yours was more of physical touch and quality time!

✧ and even dating, he gets stiff whenever you’d kiss him or get touchy.

✧ you find it funny.

✧ good ‘ol nonchalant x sunshine.

#varian #varian tts #varian x reader #varian tangled the series #tangled the series #varian oneshot #rapunzel tangled the series #varian fanfic #varian headcanons #varian x reader headcanons

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yanteetle · 8 months

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Yandere ROTTTMNT x Reader HCs. Where the Reader just accepts their faith to be trapped with the turtles that are obsessed with them.

Not because the reader lost all hope, but they actually reciprocate Raph/Leo/Donnie/Mikey's 'love' back, they wanted to change the turtle to the way he is before he became obsessed with them. Which is the sole reason why the reader loves him.

The reader loves the turtle, they are not a yandere, but doesn't seem to or doesn't even want to believe their relationship with the turtle is unhealthy and toxic.

so basically, Reader is more delusional about the turtles than they are. fair enough, seems kinda accurate tbh HAHAHAH

I'd personally feel bad for the reader because in a situation like this, you're bound to have your limits and boundaries pushed for the sake of 'good ol fun' or 'its for your own good, trust us.' If the reader has no sense of self-preservation, that's basically where it ends. But if they have an ounce of doubt in them and start searching up things like: "how to tell of I'm in an abusive relationship" online, they're doomed. they'd be gaslit, gatekeeped, and girlbossed so hard. I doubt they'll even have internet access for the foreseeable future.

after all, the last thing the turtles want is for their lovely reader to doubt their trust in them. And they'll do their best to keep it from happening, even if it means breaking you down to do it.

#yandere rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #yandere #yanteetles tellings #yandere rottmnt #obsessive yanderes #rise tmnt #rottmnt x reader #yandere tmnt #yanteetles writing #teehees

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meanbossart · 2 months

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so im curious what DU Drow considers to be too sacred to kill, if anything. I know that durge generally refuses to commit acts of murder that are beneath them, but I wonder if there is a type of victim that IS an appropriate sacrifice to bhaal that he cant bring himself to harm? (This referring to before he lost his memories, though if you have anything you'd wanna say regarding after that too)

This is an interesting question to which I unfortunately don't have a very interesting answer 🤔 and I thought about it for a couple of days too!

Bhaalist DU drow was completely faithful to his father. He did practice a little of the good ol' "what he can't see can't hurt him" school of thought - at least in regards to his masochism and some of his more pointless acts of debauchery,which he justified through being otherwise a very obedient son. Otherwise, there was no separation between his will and Bhaal's; If daddy wanted it done, consider it done. This extends even to Orin, who, if ordered, Bhaalist DU Drow would have killed, even if reluctantly.

One caveat to this, I guess, is that he did not easily accept orders from Sarevok or any of the other bhaalists. If he didn't like the sound of something, he would demand Bhaal confirm it true through a vision, prayer, or otherwise intervened in some way or another. However, his friction was usually originated from DU drow's contrarian personality, not genuine disagreement over what was and wasn't a worthy sacrifice. He truly didn't care about anything or anyone else's lives except his own and Orin's - men, women, children, elderly - the last two were probably a lot less satisfying to kill, but it didn't exactly give him any pause.

I think the only form of life he considered somewhat "sacred" were animals - having lived out in the woods for a long time meant he had an understanding and appreciation for the lawlessness of the wilderness and related to their very base-line needs. He obviously has no issue killing animals for self-defense, supplies or food, but anything else would seem pointless. Humanoids have their gods which they serve - animals do not, hence they shouldn't be brought into this. I don't think this matters though as I doubt Bhaalists make a habit out of offering up deer to their murder lord.

(As a note, in DU drow's campaign I never came across the infamous squirrel scene, hence making this headcanon possible LOL)

#ask #DU drow lore #bg3 spoilers

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lundenloves · 11 months

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that’ll do, johnny

This was a request, put in via submission. “Soap x soulmate au? Any au” I ran with my words a little here, I find it easy to write for Soap as he’s dead fun. Hope I proved this man worthy of the hype he deserves. Happy reading, kids.

↳ no warnings | gn!reader | 1.1k

good ‘ol johnny boy. apologise in advance for the scots words, they’re pretty self explanatory if you read between the lines. wain is a child.

At the end of the day.

You and Soap, or Johnny rather, were joined at the fucking hip. That duo who always showed up together, never apart for as long as they could help. It’d been that way since childhood, rainy days in Paisley after his parents had moved back down to the central belt. Pushing and chasing one another around the dull streets, name calling and loud laughs all the way through till late adolescence. Absolutely fuck-all came between you aside from his burning love for Rangers and yours for Celtic.

Match days were a fight, no doubt.

When he joined the Army it pissed you off. You’d known he was going to, christ, it’s all he’d yapped on about till he was old enough. But saying that last goodbye to him selfishly kicked up a storm in your stomach, willingly forgetting to recognise it was all he’d ever wanted. His dream, if you will.

But he wrote you letters, regardless of your sour faced send-off. Letters you’d dampened with tears, allowing the ink to run free across the page, now barely legible. His handwriting was barely legible anyway, but the tears certainly didn’t help.

Didn’t stop you from stashing them into a box under your bed though. An Adidas shoe box titled: ‘Fucker.’ You never were one for warmth.

And over time that box filled with all sorts of shite. His letters, patches, some photos — fuck even a few sticks and random fabrics he’d sent in envelopes with loads of ‘ha ha ha’s’ written on the back. When he got home you’d showed him said box and he still laughed with himself at the sticks.

“Got that in Azerbaijan, I mind picking them up.” His voice would rise in pitch, defending his past self.

Not that he had anything to defend. You’re the one that kept them.

Different story when he’d found the letters. Fuck, that was a day and a half. “You kept these aye?” He’d skimmed through the crumpled paper, “Greetin’ on them too.” A nudge of your shoulder

And that right there was the hour your friendship had transcended into something more. The whole hour actually, feelings were shared and truths came out. Johnny knew. Of course he knew. But you confirming his thoughts felt like getting into bed after a long day. Banging.

After that his deployments were all a routine. You’d cry, hate him for a maximum of a week for leaving you behind in the shithole that was Glasgow, receive a letter and then miss him. Repeat.

Above all else though, you were soulmates and that was absolutely undeniable. Finishing one another’s sentences, laughing until your sides hurt, speaking in silence by exchanging looks across rooms and dining tables. You’d even share your work gossip with him any chance you got, and he’d match your drama with his own, forever the menace even in such a serious profession. Additionally, letting you test your chances against wrestling him from time to time. Never did let you win though.

“That’d be you cheating.” He’d say as his arms pinned you down, “You’re no even tryin’ are you?”

Windup. Merchant.

“How’d they even let you in, you’re a big wain.” You’d frown at him, attempting to kick his stomach only resulting in a grapple to the floor.

“They let me in ‘cos i’m class.”

There wasn’t anything specific about Johnny that made you love him. It was a mix of everything, time included as you’d convinced yourself it was love from the ripe old age of thirteen. And actually, so did he. Whether it was a platonic love he’d recognised or something more — he told you all the time. Forever the emotional soul, Johnny. “I love you, y’know, kid.” Even though you were the same age. “You’re the one darlin’, marriage!” All slurred whenever you’d picked him up from a drunken night out, allowing him to crash in your bed.

He was a softy, really.

Again. Not that it was a secret.

You loved the way his eyes turned soft whenever listening to you, always finding yours in a room full of people. The hand he instinctively placed on your lower back when walking you through a crowd. His dirty cackle. The smile he produced enough to cover for both of you, the story-teller in him and the proud compliments he gracefully gave you in public.

But Johnny loved even more about yourself.

He loved your attitude and the way you stood up for yourself. ‘Bite n Fight’ as he liked to call it. He loved your eyes and how expressive they were, your brows that never failed to host a frown you weren’t even aware of. Each and every one of your habits, ones he’d always take for granted before leaving for months at a time. Your gorgeous smile and that dip on your bottom lip that was only reserved for his. Your roaming hands, the way they wandered up toward his hair whenever you’d kiss him deeply, pulling at the roots lightly but still tight enough to provoke a growl from him.

He just loved you.

So that night last Summer when he’d finally got down on one knee and fumbled his way through a speech, making himself (and you) laugh in the process. It was fucking emotional. “I ‘adn’t prepared one.” He’d smile with his teeth together, lifting his shoulders up toward his neck in laughter. “Yes or no. Christ, my knee can’t handle this.”

“Yeah. Yes, obviously yes.” You waved your hands in a gesture for him to stand up, laughing loudly into the night sky when he had lifted you up and kissed all over your neck.

Soulmates were an odd concept.

You never thought you’d meet yours, not until Johnny had stuck around and practically taught you the definition of the word over years. Landing the MacTavish name and unlocking endless boring stories about his family history and the clan.

Although, you’d be lying to say you didn’t enjoy the way his face lit up when telling you about it all. As if you weren’t Scottish yourself, and hadn’t heard his stories over a hundred times.

“You’re no even listening, mate.” He’d quirk a brow, stretching over the table to bosh your flat palms with his own.

“Don’t fuckin’ mate me. And I do listen, thanks. All Highland and…” You’d drag out the last letter before a long pause. “Stuff.”

“Yer a minx.” He’d push a hand through your hair to purposely mess it and wind you up, receiving a smack to his still outstretched palm. Loud laugh filling the room as well as your heart.

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#soap modern warfare #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #cod mwii #cod mw soap #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw fanfiction #soap fanfic #soap mactavish

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