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kneelingshadowsalome · 11 months

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I have an odd request… perhaps a captain price fic where the reader is much younger and edgy- likeee covered in tats and stuff,, and price isn’t rly used to that but finds it hot as hell… idk maybe they work together ?? Smut ensues …

IDK I have tatts and wonder what he’d think of that 👹👹

Just an idea 💡❤️😫

Fire it Up (John Price x F!Reader)

Word count: 7.8 k

Tags/warnings: Smut 🔞 mutual pining, flirting, swearing, older man/younger woman dynamic, forbidden love, smoking & drinking, voice kink, a tiny brat taming kink squeezed itself in here too. Reader has tattoos and works as a coder at the base. Rough ~10yrs age gap described, reader is of age I hope to god it goes without saying (Price is canonically 37) Also: no use of 'daddy' in this fic

A/N: I'm so glad for this request anon and I hope you like what I made! Also people please be gentle, this is my first Price fic 🥹 God I wish I could attach the fat scent of cigar here to give you the full experience.

You don't know what caught your attention first.

The cigar, perhaps. Or the beard? Might be his hips, the ass that tells you this man can fuck a woman for hours.

Or maybe it's the fact that he's too old for you.

No, not too old…

Just older than you. A decade, perhaps, if you were being gentle with him and lenient with yourself.

He certainly isn't old enough to be your father, but he wasn't the type of man your eyes usually drifted on either.

He looks like someone who's supposed to be fishing in Alaska, sucking that fat cigar while taking in the view of mountains while trying to catch wild fish in some wide, free stream.

He's supposed to come home to a remote cabin: to his little wife who pours him a scotch after he has shown her what he caught today. Make sweet love to her while stars shoot and speckle the indigo night.

He looks like someone who makes love to women.

You, on the other hand, want to ride with him to the sunset on the back of a Harley, clutch his jacket as he drives you to some bizarre highway motel. You want to watch him drink that scotch from your navel.

You'd do all kinds of crazy shit with him, keep his head between your legs with both hands, grind all over that mustache, and see how wet it gets. You want him to pound you with those narrow hips, take you from behind while you look back with parted, swollen lips and relish the sight of what must be a grown man's hardened body, covered with hair and scars and–

"The bug's still there."

You return to reality, look at the code on your screen, and then at your colleague, a 20-something bloke who looks at you with the lethargic stare that only belongs to techies. You've just been caught daydreaming your eyes off in the middle of a lazy afternoon. Coffee doesn't do shit after 2 PM…

"Yeah I know. I'm working on it," you say. But when the dude leaves, you decide it's time for a creative break. You tell yourself it's only because the code jumps on the screen, not because you hope to catch a certain someone smoking outside.

The leather jacket is a little too much these days, but you throw it on out of pure habit. You realize the weight of your mistake when you go outside from the ventilated building and notice the sweltering heat. Spring has finally turned into summer.

Coffee doesn’t do shit, but it’s time for another kind of wakey-wakey. And butterflies are a funny term for something that mainly feels like it’s eating your insides out of pure excitement.

Because he's here too.

Jonathan Price, although no one calls him Jonathan. Few call him John, either.

Mostly, he goes by the title Captain.

He's stressed; you can tell. But his eyes soften immediately when they fall on you, a brief look to the side, just to know who else comes out to have a breath of fresh air or a smoke. He looks like he's been expecting you, but that might only be a silly girl's daydream. You two share a vice, and you've never been more grateful for your bad habit before this place and him.

And you wouldn't call it necessarily a bad habit. It's simply stress relief if you do it once or twice every few weeks. It's not like you smoke two packs a day. It's not like you even smoke one cig per day.

Although ever since you started this odd little job in this odd little place, you've smoked one or two nearly every day… And it's not because of the stress.

It's because of Price.

John. You’d like to see his reaction to you moaning that word in his ear…

"How long have you been here?"

His eyes are still on you, mouth covered by a hand as he makes love to his cigar. And that bedroom voice always gets you. It's better than the upcoming slow drag of nicotine. You're not here for tobacco at all.

"Two weeks." You reach for your excuse and try to prevent your hands from trembling as you light the cig. Usually, you're not this shy with people. Not with men, anyway. But with him, your wits and words disappear.

You blow the smoke through the air with a quick, lively wisp where he lets it roll out his tongue in a heavy cloud. He's still watching you as if to weigh what kind of woman you are exactly.

"How about you?" You continue the small talk with nervous ease.

He chuckles; the little smile even shows a flash of teeth as he steals a look at the clouds, calculating years with those surprisingly lively eyebrows curled up toward the sky.

"Ages."

He's not that old. Perhaps well over his thirties, might be knocking his forties. The statement is merely an underline of his stress today. You can only wonder what kind of pressure the captain of Task Force 141 is under when you get sleepless nights from a stupid source code. There are a few wrinkles around his eyes, but they only tell you that this man smiles a lot. He might be the only one in this compound who smiles a lot.

"Have you ever tried a cigar?"

There's a glint in his eyes as he offers the thick roll of tobacco to you. It's suddenly difficult to breathe, difficult to even keep your thoughts together.

"No," you shake your head as if your answer wasn't enough to tell him he's the first person ever to offer you such a thing. Then you realize the word does not precisely deliver your eagerness to try that stout cigar.

"Would love to," you hurry to add with a soft smile. "Can I have a taste?"

He walks to you slowly, and your eyes drop to those hips, which sway like he's purposely trying to seduce you.

Fu–ck…

Then your eyes sink even lower, between his legs, to his fucking junk, and it's too fucking late–

Jesus–get your shit together…

You force your eyes back to his and see the little glimmer in them gain a surprised spark – you're totally caught red-handed on checking him out.

Fuck. How can you be so stu–

"Gently then, kid."

You swallow your heart and thoughts down and take the offered cigar; of course, your first thought is how thick and heavy it is. And somehow, you decide right then and there that you will no longer be the nervous, hot-cheeked woman on the corner.

It's time to make him flustered.

So you take a hollow-cheeked, slow suck on the fat cigar. A chaste, savory taste, more like, but there's nothing chaste in the way you raise your eyes to his, putting every ounce of soft seduction in that stare.

He draws breath slowly – his face is full of expression for an allegedly cold-hearted elite soldier. You don't know how often women flirt with this hunk of a man, but he sure looks taken aback by your sudden play. Probably thinks you're too young for him – and you curse the second time you put that jacket on. You want to see his reaction to your sleeves.

"Mm. It's thicker than I thought," you weigh the cigar between your fingertips and let the smoke roll out your mouth. The man switches his weight from one foot to another, speechless, and you suppress a big beam of a smile.

"The taste," you emphasize as if innocent, as if you didn't see that shocked little shift. "Round, and… god, it's almost sweet."

You smile as you give it back, and he chuffs an approving laugh through his nose – those eyes are bear-warm playful now, his mouth curves into an easy smile.

"Nice," you look him up and down as if you're talking about the man and not the cigar.

"Beats those little sticks."

His voice drops down a few notes; it's almost a husky growl. You barely make out the words he's saying. The tension in the air could form little balls of lightning around you, the flirt is over the roof, and there's even no roof because you're outside – and you take your jacket off, slowly, to make it clear it's summer and not spring.

His eyes fall on the ink immediately, and he blinks a few times, draws some more breath – you tweet your thanks accompanied by another smile and go back inside.

You know he's checking your ass in those black jeans as you walk away.

….....

It doesn't end there.

You see him again and again and again, and at some point you realize he has to walk almost 100 meters from the other end of the base to get to the little corner where the two of you smoke.

He's intrigued but decent. Holds a distance, never says anything that could be taken in the wrong way – or even in the right way. But he's fucking you with his eyes.

No… making love to you.

And it drives you crazy.

You don't want that. You don't need that. To be that little wife in the cabin. Pouring him a drink, climbing in his lap, ghosting a finger down the stubble on his chin, see how wide and proud it makes him smile to hold you like you're his and his alone...

God. When did it come to this?

You suck on his fat cigar every now and then. Look him in the eyes while you do it. Once, it makes his tongue dart out, it wets his bottom lip, and then he does that thing with his mouth... the thing where he kind of purses his lips and it makes the mustache dip, and you realize, you learn it's a sign that he's restless, he's flustered.

You make the big, burly captain of Task Force 141 flustered.

And he doesn't smell like the people inside smell. Of stale coder sweat and Joy Division and soft drinks and mommy's home-cooked meals. He smells of rich forest and fine bourbon and half-burnt gasoline. Maybe Saxon on vinyl. Definitely beats those little sticks that are your nerdy co-workers at the hacker department, as you call it.

He may have a flask somewhere; perhaps he takes a sip or two every now and then, whether at work or not. And you don't blame him. Even with those laugh lines and that brown bear benevolence, you can tell he's seen things.

You wonder what he's like out there in the field. Brutal? Or just efficient?

He never asks about your tattoos, but he eyes them often. There's a certain admiring esteem in his stare. He's checking you out, scratches his chin, and rips his eyes off when they start to drift down. He forces his eyes to stay above your neckline no matter the cost. You mourn that you got rid of the septum a few years ago: you're pretty sure he would've liked that, too. After all, it's a piercing that screams 'warrior' the most. Break after break, you return to your desk, aroused and giddy and surrounded by the rich, masculine aroma of his cigar.

One night, he drives by when you're walking home after what was supposed to be one or two pints.

The car is a big, black pick-up, and when it slows down and starts to inch by your side, your first reaction is a silent curse of why the fuck don't you carry some pepper spray in your pocket.

"Hey, you ok?"

Your head rises from the asphalt the second you recognize that smooth, pleasant voice of a man you had compared every guy to at the pub that evening. The whole man is brimming with burnt sienna, he's hard alcohol with no ice…

You stop and turn, a little wobbly from the pint turned to two or three. Or four.

"Yeah. Had a little girl's night out."

The car rumbles softly, not two meters away, and the sound reminds you of his voice. A soft purr that can turn into a growl, even a roar if he wants to.

He looks like he's going fishing, even without the boonie hat. The dark hair is cut short, so you won't have anything to tug if he ever ends up between your legs. But you don't really mourn that fact, because he looks so damn good.

He looks you up and down, and you notice the briefest blob of his Adam's apple before he gives you another offer.

"Want me to give you a ride?"

Would love a ride.

Would fucking love to ride you.

"Sure. That's kind of you."

Your eyes must be sparkling like the fucking stars.

"No problem at all," he leans his elbow on the open window and waits while you round the car and get in. You try to tone down your drunken state, but your moves are a little too brash for a calm and collected coder lady this man has usually caught leaning against the wall of the workplace you two share.

"Did you have fun?"

He sounds like a dad picking up his girl from a school disco, and you purse your lips in slight distaste and amusement.

"Yeah. You know how it is when someone asks you for a pint."

He gives a short laugh and starts to drive. "That never ends well."

You smile and turn to look at him.

"Mm… This one kinda did."

You enjoy the brief look out the window, the sight of someone so formidable and robust and experienced trying to find his way out by feigning something caught his attention in the black, empty distance of a quiet city.

"Glad I could be of service," he brushes off your flirt like it's nothing more than a speckle of dust on his coat.

The rest of the ride is silent, too silent. He turns the music off in case it "bothers you," and it turns into an awkward, overly polite fight about whether to keep it on or not.

It's a minor shock to notice he was listening to some classical. Not 80's rock, not country, not even BBC. He was just soothing his nerves.

You can't put your finger on what makes you feel so sheepish around this man – usually, you put men on a leash with a few dry jokes and a hearty laugh or two. Now, your flirting is shy and does nothing: there's a wall built up, and from behind that wall, only a few stolen looks…

The pick-up is humming, the engine is running at idle next to your place far too soon, and it's time you get off the car – but you have vehemently decided you will knock down that fucking wall even if you have to drag him to your bed.

"You wanna come up and have a nightcap?"

Another look out the window as he raises his hand over his mouth, fiddles with his mustache, and avoids the rising heat between you two.

"Thanks, kid. But you need to sleep."

Your heart is pumping, and you feel like a harasser as you place your hand on his thigh.

He doesn't move, but you can hear the audible swallow this time. He doesn't move a single finger even when you slide your palm down that leg, then drag it over to the inner thigh, and start to drift back up slowly, slowly, to give him the time and space to stop you before you reach….

….the visible bulge between those legs, the absolutely gorgeous, ample bump pulling at those pants, something so delicious that you must fight tooth and nail not to race your hand up there and give it a fond grope.

His hand falls over yours just before you reach it.

"Kid. Let's leave it here and call it a night."

His voice is strained and tight, and he's still looking out the window. You don't move your hand away because he doesn't move it away. His warmth stays there, keeping you against him, and you feel like shit for thinking it's not a no… That it's a yes when he seems to hold your hand as a prisoner, wanting to feel your dainty little palm against him.

Your fingers curl slightly, a hopeful gesture to imagine how it would feel to curl and claw at his hips and that ass while he's fucking you.

"Listen. You're a nice girl. A very nice–"

You give a heavy, demonstrative sigh and finally draw your hand away.

"Come on Cap… You're seriously going to give me the "you're a nice girl" talk?"

Finally, he turns. His nostrils quiver as he tries to keep his breaths calm. Your lips part like it's a whole caress he just gave you – and his gaze drops to your mouth instantly. You start to see where the problem is.

You're too young.

You're forbidden.

"I offered you a nightcap," you tilt your head slightly. "You can come up or you can go home."

You wet your lips, give the bottom lip a tiny little bite, and offer him the last, inviting, soft smile. It must hold an equal amount of sorrow because you can't drown the bitter feeling of rejection, no matter how many drinks you've had that night. No matter how much he seems to want you, it doesn't change the fact that he's apparently decided to stay strong and keep his hands off the cookie jar.

You turn and get out of the car, lean on the door for the final fucking time...

"Didn't know I'd only get to suck your cigar... You're all smoke and no fire, Price."

The door flies closed with a louder slam than you originally meant.

Now that was a little bit passive-aggressive, you have to admit. But you're drunk, and he's being a pain in the ass, calling you a kid, looking at you like that, having a fucking hard-on and giving you nothing.

…But it does the trick.

You smile like an idiot when you walk to your place and hear the purr of the engine stop. Another car door opens, then closes, wide footsteps follow you…

A nightcap it is, then.

He looks even bigger when inside a place with walls and a roof. He stands inside your apartment tall and wide as if he's waiting to call attention. Those large hands are over his crotch, concealing the swell of erection you already saw in the car.

You know the tank top you wear reveals even more skin covered in tats as you throw your jacket away and go get him that drink. The glasses glide on your table, slide nearly to the floor, and the bottle of Jim Beam meets the counter with a devastating clank. You look at the excuse to get him into your place and sigh.

"You know what… Fuck this."

Offering cheap bourbon to someone like him seems a bit ridiculous. So you offer him something he might actually like. Something he actually came here for.

You walk to him and throw your hands around him – he stiffens from the middle but looks down at you with a heated glimmer in those eyes. You could've sworn they were charred brown, the same color as his cigar, but up close you see they're actually molten iron. Mercurial.

"You sure about this?" He asks softly.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He unclasps those hands from over his groin, and the warmest weight falls to rest on your waist, even steals a caress to your hip. You want to hurl yourself at him, press yourself against his crotch and grind until you bleed from just that tiny touch he finally gives you.

"You've had one too many, love."

Love…

Shit.

The warmth spreads from his eyes, from that hand, from the word that rolls out of his mouth like a beautiful puff of smoke. It unfurls inside your heart, swells inside your throat, plummets to your groin, and you switch the weight to your other leg to feel how that hand gains more weight as it gets pressed more firmly against you.

"Doesn't change the fact that I want you."

Your voice is nothing short of a purr. When have you ever purred like that to a man? You sound like a housecat, tame and adoring, waiting for a gourmet meal.

"You really want an old man?"

He still has that reserve in his eyes, decent and distant, but underneath, you sense a terrible heat, like the glow of a cigar lit in darkness, an adamant smolder that never dies out.

"You're not that old."

Your purr turns into a deprived meow. You dangle from his neck, and the smoke, the fire that surrounds him, blends into the gentle scent of a man, the musk of a mature beast. You know he's hairy under those clothes; he fucking has to be. The vision of how his cock must look, surrounded by untame, coarse fur, has tormented you night after night.

And now he's finally here. In your apartment.

You skate your hands over his chest while slowly dropping into a squat, then languidly kneeling in front of his crotch.

He doesn't stop you, not even when you open his belt and the zipper and crawl your fingers down the waistband of his underwear. You have to stifle a delighted gasp upon seeing how his cock springs free and stands proud in front of you in all its glory. And fuck yes he's hairy – the hairiest man you've ever had.

Cigars feel like tiny little sticks when you wrap one hand around him and lick the weeping slit like it's your favorite ice cream. The groan that follows is a husky eruption above you and gets stuck in his throat as you take him in your mouth.

"Fucking hell, kid…"

He's thick, broad, and the musk fills your nostrils, but what he just said makes you pull back and whisper on the bulbous tip–

"Don't call me a kid," you breathe on his cock, swirl your tongue around him, and his thighs bunch. "Old man."

You finally manage to push some buttons.

The back of his hand brushes your cheek, then slides over to your throat. He's gentle but firm as he forces a thumb under your chin, curls fingers around your neck as if you're a cat who's about to be force-fed some medicine that's only good for her.

"Is that how you wanna play it?"

His thumb brushes down the ridge of your throat. Tentative, promising.

"Perhaps," your lips quiver with anticipation as you smile; your voice is a pitched vibrato before it drops, just to give him a reason to put you in your place... "Old gum–"

The hand pulls up, the grip tightens just enough to guide you back to your feet and up to meet his face.

"Didn't know you asked me here to tame a brat."

Fuck…

You almost moan.

The hand doesn't choke you; it makes love to you. Claims you as his.

"Really…?" You sigh. Flash him a filthy, guiltless smile.

The fire surges forth and nearly buckles your knees. His eyes flash in rhythm with your grin, like a sudden flicker of a campfire in the middle of a dark, parched forest.

"This what you want? Hmm?"

The rumble reminds you of the engine of a Harley roaring to life. His throat is burned from the fire of his cigars, the hand on your throat is used to squeezing dead metal and pulling pins from frigid grenades. But even they can't stand a chance against his woodland fire and sycamore smoke. He could bring a cold, inanimate rock back to life with all that fire.

"Yes. I want it. John."

His name on your tongue is a cat's meow. It has the exact effect you hoped for.

"Let's get the brat tamed, then."

"Hah," you finally moan. "Promises, prom–"

The fingers around your throat pull you to his mouth with a python strength. His lips spread yours with soft devouring as he coats you in fire. The coarse beard smells of sweet tobacco – nothing like a pungent cigarette. It's like an old memory: safe and sturdy and strong. Male.

You moan in his mouth – god, what will it be like when he's inside you? – and he capes both arms around you and crushes you against him. Broad shoulders envelop you like a shroud of thick smoke, the cock gets trapped between you like a hot spear, and you mewl like a slut.

Your pussy clenches, just from his warm mouth, the rich velvet of his lips. He takes everything with that kiss, and you're weak in his arms as he bends and molds you against him just the way he wants, opens your mouth with his own and breathes you, samples you like those puffs of smoke he sucks from his cigar.

Your brain short-circuits, you barely notice how your top slides up as his hands go under it. It's dragged up, up, over your breasts and then over your head as he detaches just enough to rip that piece of clothing away.

You look at him like he's Christmas, then reach for your bra while he opens his pants more to get them down. Your jeans are accursedly tight, and he's breathless, too: the whole room is dark and filled with heavy breathing and rustle of clothes as you claw your socks off, slide your strings down and away, watch him get out of his shirt and throw it on the floor too, all propriety gone.

And then…

Jesusfuck–

He picks you up, lifts you from the ground like you're nothing but a leaf, and strides with you in his lap until your back meets a wall.

The barrel-like chest presses the air out of your lungs while your back travels up – you don't know if his arms or chest do the lifting, but you're being positioned for his cock to enter. Your hands try to grasp something solid before it's too late – his back and neck – your legs wrap around him, feet hooking over his ass as the thick of his tip pokes your soaked folds, and after a few seconds of probing, slides in.

"F–uck…" you gasp, sounding so needy that it could be a voiceline from a bad porno movie. His lips find the place between your ear and neck immediately.

"Be good for me now," he gruffs, dark and round like the sweetest bourbon, although you know he's the finest single malt in the world. "Be good…"

"Ah–John…"

I'll be good…

Just for you, I'll be so, so good.

He pants heavy on your neck, grunts as he starts to fuck you against that wall. You knew he might be intense, but apparently, you had no idea. The man is needy as fuck, and has concealed it up until this point.

You could cry, scream from joy from the thickness that spreads you, fills you with every fat glide of a thrust. The sex borders on rough but is so incredibly tender too, so needy it makes your heart collapse, compress into a taut knot in your chest. It's the softest rocking, the gentlest fucking as he retreats, then ruts into you again and again with sharp, rusty moans. You're in a slow but steady rodeo with this man, your breasts pressed against a solid chest covered with hair, and it tickles, even if his pecs threaten to crush your ribcage.

"You're one hell of a girl," he gruffs in your ear, beard grazing up and down your neck. "Taking me so– Fucking hell, look at you…"

His eyes are embers as they sweep over you: your abundant ink, the helpless, adoring look in your eyes, the little mouth that opens with a gasp, the trickle of sweat that forms between your breasts and meets the hair on his chest.

He doesn't have to look down to see how greedy your cunt is for him. He can feel it.

"This is what you wanted the whole time? Huh?"

He's all smoke. All fire.

"Yes…"

"Wanted me to take you against a fucking wall? Eh?"

"Yes…just, just take me," you moan and purr some more, giving him everything he wants. "Fuh–fuck me good…"

"Ahh shit..."

You know you're a drug to certain decent men. But to him, you're a forbidden fruit in all its aspects.

A calm, collected captain who enjoys wide respect, eyeing an edgy, younger woman from the tech department? That's not how this was supposed to go. Thirsting for someone who did what they wanted, looked just the way they wanted, walked this earth like a dark fairy – that's not his usual go, surely. He was supposed to settle down with a proper lady. If he were to settle down at all.

"I've dreamed of this," you whisper in his ear, lips moving just enough to deliver your secret to him.

"Yeah..? Me too," he gives your throat more love with a velvet growl. "Know I shouldn't, but–"

"Shh. Don't–don't…" You grip him tighter, taste the spruce and salt as you breathe his neck. "It's good. It's all good."

He rumbles in approval. Your skin is raw from his beard; even the coarse hair dusting his thighs feels too rough on your skin. And your skin is used to being needled, shot full of ink right inside the dermis. But this… This is branding.

You're silk in his rough embrace, and plundered with no remorse. You sigh and moan, hug him... And then he dares to stop, panting and throbbing inside you.

"Darlin'. Where's the bed?"

The soft question makes you panic. If you go to bed and let him push inside you while you're lying on your back, if you brave a look into those eyes while he takes you, you'll develop more than just a horrid lust for this man. If he collapses on top of you, spent and spoiled while you're at your most vulnerable, you'll tie a string from your heart to his, and you can't, you just can't allow that to happen.

Because he's untamed too. He's not a man who settles down, he's not up for domestication; he's a wandering fire.

"No–no bed," you pant on his muscles, the shoulder that keeps you safely pinned on the wall. "John…? Please."

He's breathing wild too, disguises his surprise well.

"Alright."

He sounds disappointed, and it's not because he doesn't have the strength to maul you against that wall. The rejection stings him too. It makes you want to offer a truce, a little something. When he rocks you again, you graze your fingers up the back of his neck, knowing he will feel ripples across his scalp from your caress.

"We can smoke a cigar after," you propose, not knowing why your voice still comes out as an airy whisper. "Together. I'll pour you that drink…"

His chest swells with a deep breath, he huffs fire on the hollow trench between your collarbones.

"Fuck, woman…"

It's dense syrup that surrounds you much like those shoulders and arms, that coarse hair, that bold male want.

"And after that I want you to…" You catch your breath and sound like a mouse with your next shy question. "Would you go down on me, John?"

It's like you're under a bear attack, but he stills; his head tilts a little to the side and meets your temple.

"You wouldn't tease a man like this," he says. A soft warning, brimstone coated in velour, but the core of it is despair. So much need, so much forbidden, distant want…

"Right? No more teasing."

He's still thinking that you're teasing him… That it's some kind of a joke that you want him.

"I'm serious... I want your mouth on me. I need your–"

"I'll put my mouth on you as soon as we're done here, love."

You have to bite your lips, suck them between your teeth to prevent another deprived moan from escaping.

"Want you to fuck me all night," you continue to whisper on his neck. You should shut the fuck up because it doesn't take a bed to tie that string from your heart to his. After all, they're right there, beating against each other through bone and skin and chest.

"Yeah? That's what you want?"

"Want you to… F-fuck me slow and good from behind and–"

You sniff. Whimper.

You should be ashamed: mewling for more when he's already buried inside you. What kind of a brat are you, wrapping your thighs around that narrow waist like you never want him to pull out?

And you're not crying.

It's just that the cock inside you is throbbing against your walls as if he's making a home there, his hands dig into your ass cheeks like you're his already, the breath upon your sweat and skin feels far too affectionate. When exactly did a raw wall-fuck turn into such an affectionate, gentle taste of love?

And it's not enough. You want to climb on top of him every morning, ride him slowly and watch him unravel as the sun climbs the sky and coats that fur in gold.

"Could you do that? Please… John, please," you whimper and whine, beg like you're tame already.

"I'll fuck you all night if that's what you want. Fill this pretty, tight cunt up every way you like."

It's coarse smoke. It caresses you until your legs start to shake. He adjusts his grip, drags the pull-outs like he drags those pulls from his tobacco. Keeps you nicely in place for him to drive back in–

"I'll fuck you 'till you cry, love. Yeah?"

He punctuates that promise with another good, fat thrust. You moan all tame now – a rippling stream, laughing and crying in his molten hold.

His cock fills you while your thighs quiver and tremble in his hands. Your pussy throbs; it sucks him already, the orgasm is seconds away, and your fingertips search for support but only slip over sweaty, hard muscle.

John. John.

"Fuh-…"

He spreads you a little. Those arms are pure iron as they mold you for him to plow. You know he can feel the waves, the way your cunt grips him with longer, deeper pulls as you start to sound downright pathetic.

"Just like that, just like… hah…"

"M-hm. Yeah," he bends the vowels, daubs them with smoke. "That's it. You're doing good. Doing so well my love."

He huffs between the thrusts that have turned into slow, intense love-making. He's making love to you – god, why does he have to be like this…

"Cum for me. Nice and pretty, yeah? Come on."

He encourages you with words, but you can't hear them anymore.

Heat coils in the pit of your core just before you burst with a heady scream.

The spasm is so sudden you almost hit your head on the wall. He's at your throat the minute it's exposed, and your scream turns into a weak wail when his tongue grazes your skin. It's blazing, and dips into the hollow between your collarbones like it's a shot glass full of scotch. Next thing you feel is fire, even some teeth on your neck.

And you thought Price might, just might be intense…

Your head drops as the blunt of the orgasm leaves you. Your feet unclasp, and next up would be some soft waves, but the man continues to fuck your shattered cunt and marshmallow soul with a good, intense pace. The words that pour out of your mouth are those of a brainless person.

"Ah–hah, God–"

"Where's that cheek now, mm..? Pretty little thing."

"John–h…"

The thrusts rub you against that wall like he wants to staple you there.

"So nice and good for me now, ain't ya? Cummin' on command…" An amused chuff right on your poor, chafed skin… "Begging for my mouth and cock."

You travel up and down in a limp heap, trying to hold on to him with weak limbs as he drives into you with a tight series of half-thrusts. Your legs hang loosely on the side, but he has no trouble carrying the full weight of you.

"Slow–slowly, Cap…"

"Ahh fuck–"

He swears on your ink, right on the trotting pulse on your neck. Through the vapor of man sweat and rich smoke and a whiff of cedar trees bending in the wind, you feel him tense and thicken.

"The fucking things you do to me…" he pants with a low growl, hushed but intense. Your pussy answers with a good, demanding pull.

"Fuck… fuck–!"

You're a limp doll between him and the wall when he comes. Pressed between a rock and a hard place, literally. His chest being the rock, an entire boulder that whips the oxygen from your lungs as he drives deep, his balls giving a few taut pulls against your ass as he empties himself into you with a satisfied, dry moan. A dark, ripe blossom, shooting straight to your core while you're sealed tight around him.

The world goes still after that; the only thing that moves is your breath and his, a refreshing hot breeze coursing through the stale air. The darkness of the room isn't half as snug as the safety of his arms.

Your fingers find his neck, the short-cut hair and the skin pounding with a rush of blood. He lets you go reluctantly, bends a little to set your feet back to the solid ground. He doesn't pull out, keeps huffing all over you even when you're returned back to the earth.

And you never want to come back. Your cunt still throbs around him and cries a tiny, thick stream down your thigh. His upper body still pins you against that wall, his breaths still mist your skin, caress the red burns of his beard.

He feels so good. Too good…

When he pulls out, he does so with intense care. He gives you some space to catch your breath, and you finally notice he has fucked your legs into splinters.

"I'm…" You break the hush of heavy breathing with a soft laugh. More viscous load pushes out of you with it. "I don't think I can stand."

"Yeah? Tried to take you to bed," he muses softly, sounding annoyingly content with his achievements.

"Gotta admit it was a good idea."

"As was the nightcap," he rasps, voice drenched in soft smoke.

"We'll get there eventually."

"I have no doubt about that."

You give him a soft, warm chuckle as you cast your eyes between the crest of his pecs. Rough, tight muscle meets your soft breasts with heaving breaths, and teases your nipples to taut little points. The wet hair on his chest looks good paired with your inked, smooth skin… You two look so goddamn fine together.

"I hope I didn't make you deaf with that scream."

He stands at his full height, but tilts his head down and slightly to the side as if you were a new, interesting species he's just found on his travels.

"Wouldn't complain, love," he says. More wet syrup, just for you. He weighs you with his stare, curious and appeased, and you feel shy. For fuck's sake, you still feel shy even though this man was inside you just a moment ago.

"The bed. Now be a good girl and tell me where it is."

"Down the…hallway."

A delicate little whisper, again.

It's laughable, how the veteran of Task Force 141 turns you into something so dainty and meek. Captain John Price takes you against a wall like you're nothing but a doll, makes you purr and beg, reassembles you into a weak-willed woman who gets carried to bed.

This is not how it was supposed to go...

He lifts you back in his lap while you continue to hold onto him like he's your prince Charming. A laugh spills on your lips when he tries to lay you gently on the bed and you manage to pull him down with you. You end up tumbling there in a sweaty, messy heap.

"Knew you were trouble," he's smiling too as he settles beside you. You curl and wrap yourself around him, your bodies mold and curve together like they're made for each other.

He's so solid, so warm, the kind of man you'd love to fall asleep on every night. No more cold sides of the pillow, no more tossing and turning and trying to get the code out of your head. Just… this chest, those ember eyes burning in the night. Some soft breathing, a roaring engine standing still, waiting for you, just for you…

"I hope this wasn't a one time only occasion," you test the waters.

"No." He shifts a little, disentangles from you slightly. "Unless you–"

"No."

You bend in his arms like a young willow, cut his doubts off with a kiss. It's passionate, and so sloppy it threatens to make the same sounds as your cunt and his cock a while ago.

The hand on your hip tows you closer, then steals its way down your leg. You hike your thigh up, perfectly willing. You're a sticky mess, but so is he: his rock-hard thigh meets your still soaked pussy like these two have always belonged together. And this man's full fire has escaped you until now. There are so many hidden, wild things in him too.

He would look so good on a Harley… He would look good on a motel bed after riding for days and days with you attached to him like an eloped dark bride. The nights would be smeared with hot sex and cinder and smoke, a dash of scotch on top, he could drink it from your lips. You would serve it to him from your mouth, round the taste a bit so that it wouldn't burn so much…

"Have you ever been to Alaska?"

The liquor is leaving you, but you don't feel any more sober. The lava in your veins has only been replaced by another kind of fire.

"No."

"Would you like to go?"

"What'ya mean," he murmurs on your tongue, and you know he's hard again just from the thick lust coating his voice. "What kind of question is that?"

"I was just thinking."

"What were you thinkin', kid..?"

"Don't… call me that," you laugh. In truth, you're growing quite fond of it. It reminds you of old movies. "Here's looking at you, kid" and all that.

His laugh is a charred roll in his chest. To him, you're a brat – an unruly kitten – no matter what you say.

"Kid. Why Alaska?"

He's curious. Borderline hooked. You steal a peek into those vulcan eyes.

"You'd look good in Alaska. Old man."

"Really," he rumbles a soft purr against your heart.

Another soft kiss follows. Affectionate… He plays time, but he's also a probing, scanning. You bloom in his embrace, unfurl on his lips like he just wrenched you wide. He could haul you to the cabin right now and you would only cook him dinner.

It's too late, even if you try to shift after such a kiss. Escape to press your cheek against that place between his pecs, the spot where the hair is darkest and thickest. You want to lick that valley where his heart meets his musk. That scent must be born from a good, stout heart.

"Would you take me with you…? If you ever decide to go."

It's a fragile question. A baring of the heart. It holds so much more than an inquiry about whether he would whisk you away on a secret leave. It's strings, pulling from your heart to his, taking root.

"Sure. But you're quite a handful, love."

"Is that so…?"

You crawl over him as gracefully as you can. He allows you to straddle him, and of course he does. You're no threat; you're only a one woman show. The only thing he's probably missing right now is a glass of scotch and a thick roll of tobacco.

He takes in the view with hunger: not satiated by that pent-up fuck, just like you're not...

But then his hands come to rest on your thighs to check if they're still shaking. The touch bleeds possessiveness: it's a thoroughly absent-minded, instinctual attempt to reach for you. It tells you you're exactly where you belong.

"You seem like the kind of woman who's not for the faint of heart," he says like you didn't just mewl in his arms like the tamest fucking housecat.

And perhaps that's what intrigues him. Contrasts. And even more than that, the odd place where black fuses into white, the gray area where everything is possible. The split-second moment when the skin accepts the ink and traps it in.

Everyone always says you get buried with your tattoos. That you should think twice before staining your skin with such permanent hookups.

But the thing is, you get addicted to it. It's like standing on the edge of a cliff before a bungee jump. You know you'll never be the same person after you jump, and you know you can't leave that cliff without jumping. It's a stalemate until you clear your mind of doubt and just plunge.

And you don't want to leave this earth without getting stained and sweaty, without dipping your soul into the full experience. You're supposed to get a little dirty. This is Earth, after all.

Your fingers disappear somewhere in his slick fur. Sunrise is hours away, but his eyes spark aflame. They're always, always smoldering like the butt of his cigar. He's a man who causes wildfires at the end of the world – he's a reckoning, a flicker in the dark forest, roaring into a bonfire as soon as the wind passes through the trees.

And you've always loved fire. Wild, and free. The only thing that competes with such freedom is a wide, wild stream.

"But you can handle me. Right?" Your fingers curl softly around the hair surrounding his navel. "Tame me and everything?"

It's an offering that causes even fire to tilt its head in curiosity. In the end, you're not sure who tamed who.

"Someone has to," he grabs your hips with rich promise.

You'll pour him that drink. Light him a cigar after his mouth is full of your taste, see how well it pairs with fire and smoke. You'll toast to the Harley, the crazy motel…

And Alaska.

#john price x you #john price x reader #john price x female reader #captain price x you #price x reader #captain price smut #captain price x reader #john price smut #john price #mw2 smut #captain john price #john price fanfic #cod fanfic

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bichachonacho · 2 years

Text

Retribution

pt.2 of ‘The Other Woman’

pt.3 here

warnings: angst and fluff (technically) & mentions of sex.

The fan art divider below is not my work. I found it on pinterest but Idk who the artist is. If someone knows can you please lmk so I can give them credit <3

a/n: also thank you so much for all the love for part one of this story <3! and I’m sorry to those who asked me to tag them with this post I was trying to but it wouldn’t let me for some reason :/

It had been weeks since that night, the same night Aemond confessed his feelings for his true love Alys in his drunken state. The same night you had cried yourself to sleep, wanting to be as far away from your husband whilst being trapped in his embrace. You woke the next morning with a new realisation— why should you bother trying to be an outstanding wife when you would never compare to her.

His beloved Alys.

Her name tastes like poison in your mouth, so distasteful you fear you’ll grow sick if it lingers at the forefront of your mind any longer. You feel guilty, it’s not her fault you’re trapped in a marriage with a man who’s madly in love with her.

You stop trying with Aemond. All the effort you put in to try and gain his approval, affection and love would inevitably go to waste— so why should you spend any more time worrying about Aemond and his needs. He didn’t need nor want you to be his wife, so you shouldn’t act the part.

You carry on with your day after your brief breakfast with Aemond in the dining room. You kept the conversation short, as you usually do now. You have little to say to him besides conversation about your shared duties to the throne and your family. You stopped trying to make small talk with him, your attempts before often irritated him. He wouldn’t hide the fact your consistent need for communication with him bothered him. Now you’re content with the shared silence between the two of you, grateful that you didn’t have to scramble to think of things to talk about.

You allow the handmaidens to ready your bath as you contemplate what outfit to wear for your day out of Kings landing. You ignore the way Aemond’s eye is trained on you intently, silently observing the way you think over what dress to wear between the two options.

“If those do not please you, I’ll buy you finer dresses, dear wife” Aemond breaks the silence, causing you to scoff at his attempt of being a considerate husband. This was one of the only times he had referred to you as his wife, weeks ago you would’ve been praising your gods in thanks— now the title barely phases you.

“Now why would you do that” You huff, deciding on the dress that was a deep shade of blue. You brush past him, hinting for him to leave the room when you bathe. He hums before pushing off of his seat and leaving the room, shutting the door behind him as you begin to undress.

“Are you planning on telling Prince Aemond where you are headed?” Your handmaiden Meredith questions you as she brushes your long silver hair. You pretend to lull the thought over before you say no.

“He doesn’t need to know. My absence won’t phase him” You hum, causing Meredith to tut as she braids some of your fine hair. You shut your eyes momentarily, preparing to receive an earful from the older woman who was like your mother figure in Rhaenyra’s absence.

“I would question that, Princess. Prince Aemond had spent half the day searching for you when you had left to roam the streets two days ago” She informs you, causing you to hum in thought as you processed what she had just told you. It seemed absurd that Aemond would notice you leaving for a few hours, you could disappear for weeks and he wouldn’t bat an eyelid.

“I trust you won’t tell him if he searches for me” You hum, confiding in her trust. You already knew the answer, Meredith would defend you with her last breath if it came down to it. She presses a soft kiss into your hair before standing up and stretching her limbs.

“Be mindful there is a family dinner tonight. You cannot be late” Meredith informs you and you wave her off, promising you wouldn’t be tardy before you push off of the hard floor and prepare to leave your bedchamber.

You had forgotten your promise the moment you stepped foot on Dragonstone. It had slipped your mind completely as you spent the day with your younger siblings— your mother distracting you in the evening by telling you stories by the fireplace. Your hand was steadily caressing her heavily swollen stomach as you listen to her tale, hoping your sibling inside of her womb was also listening. It was so entertaining you had forgotten of your curfew.

You leave Dragonstone hastily on Dragonback, cursing as you chastise yourself for forgetting such a thing. Meredith would definitely give you an earful later for this, but that was the least of your concerns as you take quick strides down the halls of the Red Keep. Out of breath and hair messy from the ride back, you quickly try to make yourself more presentable before you enter the dining room— the guard posted outside the door giving you a look before you enter.

“I apologise for my tardiness, your grace” You announce as you greet Alicent who gives you a tight lipped smile from her side of the table. She silently disapproved of your lack of consideration for time but said nothing— allowing you to take a seat beside Aemond.

You ignore his stare, keeping your gaze focused on the plate infront of you as you cut into your steak, hoping he would lose interest of your face and stop staring so intensely.

“Where have you been?” Aemond confronts you, finally breaking the deafening silence that could be cut with a knife.

“I went for a ride. Needed some fresh air” You glance at him as you answer, catching the dissatisfied look on his face at your alibi.

“Be honest with me” He presses you again, his voice slightly louder and catching the attention of the others sitting around the table. They pretend to carry on with their idle chatter, obviously eavesdropping on your conversation. You stay silent, ignoring his statement and hoping he would lose interest and stop talking to you.

“Your husband demands you to answer him” He growls, his tone revealing his frustration at your silence.

“Or what? You’ll sever my tongue?” You argue as you drop your cutlery, accentuating your anger as you repeat the words he spoke to you at this same table weeks ago. Everyone around the table goes silent at your sudden outburst, Aegon barely biting back a laugh whilst Helaena gazes at you with sympathy in her eyes. Alicent as you expected still wore a scowl on her face, unimpressed by both you and Aemond’s antics.

“I apologise for my outburst” You announce to everyone at the table before you continue to quietly eat, shifting further away from Aemond in your seat as you internally wish you were riding back to Dragonstone.

“I visited my family. That’s where I was today” You sigh heavily as you both enter your shared bedchamber after the dinner had concluded. Aemond gives you a look of understanding before you brush past him and begin to undress.

He lingers around the small bookshelf you insisted to be made months ago, finger trailing along the covers until he pulls out the novel containing children’s tales.

“You no longer read to me. I wish for you to read again” Aemond’s voice is just above a whisper, barely audible with the only sounds being your fabric loosening and the crackles from the fire.

Every second night after you wed, you made it a nightly ritual to read out loud your favourite stories from your childhood. Hoping it would help you bond with Aemond, it in fact did the opposite and made him leave the room most times— claiming he’d rather listen to Aegon fucking some whore than you reading to him.

“Today has exhausted me. Feel free to read on your own accord” You hum, dismissing his request as you stifle a yawn— pulling back your sheets to lay on your side of the bed. Aemond sighs heavily before he retires to the seat infront of the fireplace, reading quietly to himself. You had already shut your eyes and lulled yourself to sleep, so you missed the way he kept glancing over at your sleeping form.

Aemond feels a slight tightness in his chest as he reflects on how distant you’ve been with him for the last few weeks. He noticed it the first morning you stopped asking him a million questions at the breakfast table. Your odd behaviour that morning only being the start to you growing further apart from him. You stopped trying to drag him to the garden to simply walk with you, you no longer played with his hair or tried to jest with him. You didn’t ask him how his day was at the end of the night as you both lay down for bed, you would just silently turn over and sleep.

He’s hurt you, more times than he could count on all ten of his fingers. He treated you so bitterly because he blamed you for losing his sweet Alys to this betrothal. Now that he’s losing you too, he doesn’t know how to stop this marriage from falling apart.

The next morning, you ready your proposal to Aemond— one that you’ve been dwelling on for the last few weeks. You weren’t sure of how he’d react, probably ecstatic over your suggestion if you were to be honest. You know Alicent won’t be satisfied if she were to find out, so you intend to keep it a secret.

“We will reside in separate bedchambers. I’ve already asked Meredith to arrange Jace’s old bedroom down the hall for me. I’ll be moving my belongings there tonight” You announce to Aemond once you are both sat together during breakfast. He pauses at the news, confusion gracing his features as he stares at you.

“We’re married, why should you feel the need to sleep away from me?” His chest tightens again as he speaks.

“We’re practically worlds away when we share one bed, what difference would it make being in separate rooms” You say nonchalantly, sipping on your lukewarm tea as your eyes leave his. He doesn’t voice his disagreement with your suggestion, just silently nodding before he continues to eat.

When night comes, both you and Aemond make your way to your bedchambers after spending an evening with the whole family in Aegon and Helaena’s quarters. You were practically glued to her youngest child the whole night, unaware of your husband’s stare as he watched you babble away in gibberish to the young baby.

“Do you need instructions on where to stick your cock, brother?” Aegon had clapped him on the shoulder as he joins him by the fireplace he was leaning against. Aemond hums in confusion, pulling his gaze away from you momentarily to glance at his brother.

“It’s out of brotherly love that I question why you haven’t put your seed in her yet. Have you not been married half a year now?” Aegon scoffs, downing his goblet full of wine before he tosses it aside.

“We don’t share the insatiable urge to fuck like rabbits the way you and your whores do, dear brother” Aemond bites back, causing Aegon to raise his hands up in defense.

“At least I feel the urge to touch them, not once since your wedding have I seen you embrace her— not even with a simple kiss” Aegon was right, after their wedding night, Aemond didn’t bother trying to share any affection with you. In his heart he knew his kind touch and warm embrace were reserved for the one woman who held his heart in her hands.

“Y/N…” Aemond hums, stopping you in your tracks as you stop walking down the hall. You feel his hand embrace yours as he turns your body to face him, his touch warm as he cups your hand in his.

“H—how was your day?” He questions you, his stutter causing him to curse at himself internally as he notes how foolish he sounds. You let out a little laugh at how confusing he was being, you spent the walk back here in utter silence and he chooses only now to ask you.

“It was like every other day I have here. Meredith made me chocolate muffins— they were divine” You hum, unsure of what else to talk about you ask him the same question.

“My day was mediocre at best, one can only bare Aegon for so long”

You hum in understanding, Aegon was more than a handful. He was torture when he wanted to be, which was majority of the time he was in anyone’s presence. You’re blessed to be married to the tamer brother, the same one who still had your hand in his grasp.

“If that is all, I wish you goodnight Prince Aemond” You hum, pulling your hand from his grasp completely before you turn on your heel and continue on your way to your new bedchamber.

Discomfort sits in his stomach at your use of his formal name, it was as though he wasn’t your husband— a stranger to you almost. He feels guilt reside in him as he reflects on how he would chastise you for calling him terms of endearment that Alys often used. It’s only now as he watches her walk away from him and disappear into her bedchamber that he realises he would give an arm and a leg to hear you call him those names once again.

Much to your dismay, you can barely sleep a wink. You toss and turn against your cold sheets , frustrated and confused as to why you couldn’t sleep soundly in your own space. No longer did you have to sleep stiffly because Aemond was on the other half of your bed. You had all the freedom in the world to sleep, yet you couldn’t even as you tried your hardest to.

You decide to take a walk in the garden to clear your head and hopefully tire yourself out enough to finally rest. Sighing heavily, you admire the warm air that fans against your skin as you quietly make your way down the halls. Your eyes widen slightly as you see his long silver hair, his eye focused on the moonlight that beams through the trees leaves above him. For once in your marriage you seem to finally sync as you realise he couldn’t sleep either, needing the comfort of nature to clear his head.

“You couldn’t rest either?” You hum as you approach him, the leaves crunching beneath your bare feet as you move closer to him. He seems startled at first, exhaling in relief when he recognises his wife’s voice.

“It seems as though I have grown used to the warmth of your body beside mine— your absence has turned me into an insomniac” Aemond admits truthfully, causing something inside of your gut to spark when you hear his words.

“It appears your absence has caused me to have the same troubles” You chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest as you look up at the leaves above your head, fascinated by it’s pretty colour.

“We shall grow used to it as time passes” You exhale, hoping that you don’t suffer the same fate tomorrow night. He’s taken aback by your statement, his eye resting on your face.

“Time passes? How long do you intend on being separated?” If you weren’t aware of Aemond’s true feelings toward you, you would almost hear the hint of sadness in his voice as he speaks.

“I was meaning to discuss this matter with you in a week’s time, but seeing as we’re alone and at our most vulnerable— I shall inform you now” Your words cause his pulse to quicken, he involuntarily feels his heart pound as you turn to face him. He didn’t know what to expect.

“I know this marriage wasn’t one formed from a love match. I’m the last person you wished to marry and somehow we still found ourselves betrothed” You sigh heavily, reflecting on the moments you’ve shared as a married couple so far— most, if not all being ones where neither of you were happy.

“Someone else has ahold of your heart, it was never mine to claim and I was foolish for trying to in the first place. This marriage was always destined to fall” You grasp ahold of his hands in yours, the gesture causing your gazes to meet as he finally looks at your face.

“I give you my permission to pursue your beloved Alys, so long as we both continue this marriage for the sake of our family name and duties— nothing more, you are free to love her. I too will do the same, in hopes that I do one day find someone who loves me as much as you love her” You say in finalisation, watching his face for any sign of a reaction.

Aemond’s heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest at your words, he didn’t know how to feel. You were giving him a golden opportunity on a silver platter, he would get to love his Alys freely— without the guilt of already being a husband and that in itself sounded like heaven to him. Still, he was heavily conflicted. He wanted to confess to you that even with his love to Alys, he still longed for you— his wife that he had watch gradually lose herself because of him. It’s selfish of him to need you both, to want you almost as much as he wants her.

After a moment, Aemond finally nods his head in agreement— the words of truth being trapped in his throat as he fails to utter even a word to you. You give his hands a squeeze before you release your hold on him.

“This matter is settled then” You hum before you pull away from him. You bid him goodnight, your words barely processing in Aemond’s mind as he fails to speak. Instead he watches you walk away in silence, leaving him alone in the garden with his thoughts and his latest regret.

—

a/n: Idk about this ending tbh sorry if it’s meh but the final chapter will be worth it :p

tags <3

#aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond fanfiction #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x y/n #hotd aemond #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine

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holdmytesseract · 1 year

Note

If you are seeking soon to be dad Daryl, what about a fic where Y/n gets pregnant but she's scared to tell Daryl because what happened to Lori? Maybe she is finally able to tell him when they get reunited after the prison falls and by then she's already showing? Idk I know it says requests are closed but I saw your post!

Blessing in Disguise

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: After discovering that you are pregnant, you don't know what to do; being utterly afraid after what happened to Lori. You don't even have the chance to tell it your boyfriend, Daryl, because after the prison fell, you and Daryl get separated. Can you find him again and finally be brave enough to tell him?

Warnings: the usual TWD stuff, walkers, weapons, angst, mentions of birth and pregnancy, fluff!

Set in Season 4/5!

Word Count: 4,6k (Whopsies...)

a/n: I promised y'all a new Daryl fic and here it is! ☺️ Thank you for this wonderful request @starfirette ! ☺️ I loved, loved, loved to write this! 🥰 I hope you like it. ☺️ I changed the timeline a little bit - and I uh, may have ignored the existence of Mika and Lizzie, because I somehow struggled a lot to write them. I hope that's okay. 🙈

Tagging: @in-this-minute @thefemininemystiquee @hotgirlsshareaccounts @azanoni @lokisgoodgirl @goobysgoobers @fuseburner @fictive-sl0th @alexreadz07 @sweetpeapod

Masterlist

Biting your lip nervously, you watched your friend from afar, loading stuff in a car. He was alone, so your only opportunity to ask was probably now - or never. Taking a deep breath, you bit the bullet and walked over to him. "Hey, uh, Glenn?" The black-haired man turned to face you. "Oh, hey Y/N. What's up?" He asked you, smiling. "Can... Can you please get me something from the drugstore you're going to?" "Sure thing, no problem. What is it?" You bit your lip again; shaky fingers handed over a small piece of paper. Glenn took it and slowly unfolded it. His gaze scanned the written words, eyes widening. "Y-Y/N this... This is-" "I know, Glenn, I know. Please, keep this to yourself, okay?" "Of course, but... You know that everyone says I'm bad at keeping secrets?" You sighed, rubbing the heels of your hands in your eyes. "Yes, but you're my best friend. I trust you." The Korean nodded, "You got a point there..." and stuffed the note inside his jeans pocket. "Don't forget it, please." "I won't, promise."

You spent the time walking from one place to the next. Your mind was restless, and so was your body. A billion 'What if...' questions were running through your head on lighting speed. It felt like your skull was going to burst any second. The wait for Glenn to return was almost unbearable. "Y/N? You alright?" Maggie's voice cut through the loud noises in your head. Blinking, you stopped in your motions; looking up to face her. "Y-Yeah, of course." The woman looked at you quite a bit sceptically. "Are you sure? You seem really... uneasy and nervous. Something wrong between you and Daryl?" You quickly shook your head at your friend's words. "No, no! Everything's perfectly fine! We're good. I'm good!" Maggie eyed you a second time doubtfully, "Alright." before she turned around to leave again. You breathed out relieved, closing your eyes. Gods... That was hell.

About two hours later, Glenn and a few Woodbury people came back from the run. Subtly, your best friend handed you the small bag. "You got it?" He nodded. "Yeah. Brought three different brands." You stared at the bag, taking it into your hands. "Thank you." "Of course." You gave Glenn a small smile, which he returned. "You can talk to me about... You know. I-I'm always here for you." "I know - and I appreciate it so much." Before the Korean could even answer, you had pulled him into a big hug.

Now you sat in the cell you shared with Daryl - who was on a hunt at the moment, on the bed, staring at the bag in your hands. You had to do it. You just had to. You needed to know. So, you grabbed all three packages and sneaked into the prison 'bathroom'. Taking the tests were easy. Waiting five minutes for them to show a result was excruciating. Once again you found yourself walking up and down the room, hoping for once time would pass faster. At some point you couldn't take it anymore. You had to look; waited clearly long enough. Closing your eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, you stepped over to one of the sinks - where you had placed all three tests, and taking a look at them. The first one. Positive. The second test. Positive. And the third result. Positive. "Fuck..." You were pregnant – without a doubt.

Shock wasn't the right word to describe your emotions right now. It wasn't really a shock, since you had the assumption; showing the typical signs for over a week now. Fear and panic were better words. In another world, you would've been happy. Having a baby with the man you loved was everything you ever wanted. Daryl was that man. The rotten, destroyed and dangerous world was a big problem, sure. Not just the walkers were a big threat. The disease, which roamed the prison had been a problem, but also other people out there. People like the Governor, for example. But now that you had the prison back and successfully defended your home against that psychopath, you weren't that concerned about the circumstances and surroundings. The prison was safe. What was a bigger problem and the cause for your main fear and panic, was what had happened only a few months ago... Judith's birth, and Lori's death. She died, birthing a child - and that was what gave you the chills. What if the same fate befell you? What if you were going to die as well, bringing yours and Daryl's baby into this world? Like Lori already once said… This wasn't a hospital. Sure, you had medical supplies - but not enough for a c-section or worse. If there would be complications, you were sure going to die - and you didn't want that. Despite that, it was already kinda hard enough to provide for one baby, but two? You didn't know. You really didn't know. What were you going to do now?

Driven by the panic coursing through your system, you went on search for Glenn. You needed to talk - and your best friend was your safe haven right now. Telling Daryl wasn't an option. Not just because he wasn't here at the moment anyway - which had left you worried sick enough, but also because you just were too afraid. You didn't want to do this to him. If you were really going to die during childbirth, you would put even more weight on his shoulders. He already had to carry enough.

"Glenn?!" You shouted up the guard tower, knowing that he was on watch at the moment. Seconds later, the door sprung open and his head appeared. "Y/N?" He shouted back. "Can... Can I come up?" You choked out; the tears on the brink of falling. "Uh, sure!" Quickly, you made your way up the stairs and through the doors. "T-Thanks." "Sure thing. Did you take the- You did." Glenn said, turning to face you and noticing the tears in your eyes immediately. "Is it... positive?" You nodded. Glenn's eyes widened. "You are... pregnant?" Once again you nodded; having lost the ability to form words. Without another sentence, Glenn bridged the distance between you and him and hugged you close. A big hug - exactly what you needed right now.

The two of you just stood there for a while, embracing each other. The only thing which could be heard, were your quiet sobs of desperation.

"W-What am I doing now, Glenn?" He pulled back from the hug, looking at you a bit confused. "What, uh, do you mean?" You blinked, staring at your best friend. Was he serious right now? He didn't get it? "Glenn, I... I can't have that baby!" And again the black-haired man's eyes widened. "Wait, what? You want to...?" Shrugging your shoulders, more tears started to fall. "N-No, but... I'm afraid of being pregnant; of birthing that baby. You know what happened to Lori! What if this happens to me, too!" Glenn immediately shook his head. "It won't, Y/N. Judith's birth went wrong, because Hershel wasn't with her. Lori was at the wrong place on the wrong time, unfortunately. It won't happen to you." You scoffed, not seeing this as easy as him. "That may be true, but what if Hershel can't be with me as well, huh? For any reason? And nevertheless, this ain't a hospital... It's a goddamn prison." The Korean sighed, tried to reassure you further, but it was no use. "I'm going to take you to Hershel now." He said, grabbing gently your arm and pulling you with him. "W-Why?" "Because maybe he can reassure you; and especially prevent you from having a panic attack." You said nothing; knew that he was actually right, so you didn't protest.

Passing by a lot of familiar faces on the way - due to the people from Woodbury your group had taken in in the prison, Glenn brought you to the small infirmary, where he was surely working.

"Hershel?" Glenn called out, trespassing the big doors with you. "I'm here." You heard the elder man call out, before he stepped out of one of the cells turned hospital rooms. "Glenn, what can I- Oh, hello Y/N." Neither of you said a thing, causing Hershel to look confused at the both of you and get closer. "Is everything alright?" Glenn turned to face you, squeezing your shoulder gently. "I'll leave you to it." With those words and a smile, he disappeared through the doors again, leaving you alone with Hershel. "Are you not feeling well, dear?" "Y-Yes." What were you saying? "N-No, I-" Even more overwhelmed now, you took a deep breath, trying to get yourself together. Hershel could see how you struggled; that you were rattled and of course, that something was bothering you. "Come, Y/N, let's sit down." The older man gave you a soft smile and gestured for you to follow him. He guided you into an empty room, in which he told you to sit on the small bed. "I'll be right back." You nodded, still too shaken up to form words.

A few minutes later, Hershel came back with a water bottle, handing it over to you. "Drink." You nodded once again, twisted the cap open and took a few big sips. "Good. Now take a few deep breaths and tell me what's wrong - if you feel up to it." You did what Hershel instructed you to do; took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. You needed that. You didn't know it, but you needed that. "Thank you." The man nodded at you, giving you another small smile. "O-Okay, so... Um, I... I wasn't feeling that well for the last few days. Always tired, no matter how much I slept. Sometimes, I had a bit nausea and mood swings... A-And I had to pee more often." You paused for a moment, fiddling nervously with your hands. A look into Hershel's face told you that he already knew what you were trying to say. After all, he was a doctor, but he didn't interrupt you; let you speak on. "W-Well, I counted one and one together and... Glenn brought me three tests. I just took them and..." "They're positive?" You nodded, clenching your jaw in order to suppress the upcoming tears. "W-What do I do now, Hershel?" The older man reached his hand over to gently place it on yours. "Be happy about it. This is a gift. A wonder." You scoffed, controlled by your fear once again. "It wasn't a gift for Lori, was it?" Hershel sighed, knowing exactly what you meant. "What happened to Lori was an accident. It was the wrong place and the wrong situation." "That may be true, but what if I'm going to die, too? What if this baby decides to come in the wrong place and the wrong situation as well?" "That won't happen." "Why are you so sure of that? This just isn't a world to have children anymore." It was a back and forth and throwing arguments - until Hershel shook his head and gave your hand a squeeze. "Now listen to me, Y/N. I know very well that this must be not easy for you. I can understand; given what happened to Lori. But Lori had Carl through a c-section, so the chances were pretty high she needed to have Judith with a c-section as well. You on the other hand have very good chances for a natural birth." He said calmly, pausing for a moment to let his words sink in. "Despite, you are such a strong woman. You've got Daryl by your side. You've got all of us by your side. A safe place with the prison..." He gave you a smile. "We're going to make this."

Hershel's words managed to calm you down a bit and take away some of your anxiety - quite to your surprise. "Y-You think?" "Yes." You nodded and stayed quiet for a moment, before the next thought hit you. "B-But what if Daryl doesn't want this?" A low, hearty chuckle rumbled through the elder man's chest, causing you to look at him confused. "Y/N... That man would do anything for you and that baby. You know just like me how adamant he was to keep Judith alive and healthy. He was the first one who reacted, went immediately out on a run to get her formula. Daryl would never reject that baby, trust me. He is going to be a great father." He squeezed your hand again, giving you another smile, which you couldn't help but return. "Now let's get you checked up and make sure to start on the prenatal vitamins."

And for a short moment, everything was perfectly fine. Sure, you still had your doubts and fears, but the voices in your heads became quieter, due to Hershel. Unfortunately, your happy phase didn't last even three days. Suddenly everything turned sour, when Hershel and Michonne vanished, the Governor returned to take the prison by brutal force with the two missing people in tow as hostages, murdering Hershel in front of yours and everyone's eyes – and the fall of the prison in the end. It happened so fast. Within minutes, everything was heading south with walkers flooding the place and a war breaking loose. Suddenly everybody around you was crying and yelling, while you just tried to hold on to Daryl - but it was no use... In the end, you lost him, got separated from him and ended up with Tyreese, who had saved baby Judith - and who absolutely wasn't bad at all, but Tyreese wasn't Daryl. The prison was destroyed, your family split up, not knowing who survived and who didn't. Your boyfriend and still unbeknownst to him, father of your child was probably dead and you had absolutely nothing left. Within a blink of an eye, you had a mess on your hands.

"We have to go back!" You shouted after Tyreese, as he walked on through the woods, further away from the prison. "We have to go back and look for him!" Your friend gave you no answer, just continued to walk on. With a cocktail of anger, hurt, frustration and sadness coursing through your veins, you quickly caught up to him. "Tyreese!" He stopped suddenly abruptly in his tracks. "We can't, Y/N! We can't! Don't you see? Our home is destroyed, overrun with walkers! Going back there would be suicide!" "I don't care! I have to find him!" Tyreese sighed, bouncing Judith in his arms to keep her asleep and quiet. "I know this is hard for you and I am truly so, so sorry, but we have to look after Judith now. Make sure she survives." A part of you knew that the man was more than right, but your heart just couldn't accept this. You had to made sure that the man you loved was alright. So the emotions inside you exploded, causing you to reveal your 'secret' to your friend. "And I have to make sure that the father of my baby is alive!" Your eyes widened immediately after the words had left your lips, realisation dawning on you. Tyreese's eyes widened as well; his jaw dropping. "You... You are pregnant?" You nodded; tears threatening to fall. "Please, Tyreese, please..." Your voice was quieter and softer now, on the verge of begging. The man sighed once again, before placing a free hand on your upper arm, squeezing reassuringly. "No. It's too late." You wanted to speak up again, but Tyreese was quick to cut you off. "It won't change a thing if we are going back there." "Fine. Then I'm going alone." You wanted to turn on your heels and go, but Tyreese stopped you; grabbed your arm gently. "I can't and won't let you, Y/N. You are pregnant! I'd never forgive myself if something would happen to you. We stay together. Maybe we find Daryl somewhere around here. He is a survivor, you know that." Those words seemed to finally do the trick and convince you to not go back. Instead, you fell into Tyreese's arm, hugging his side and crying against his shoulder.

"Y/N!" Daryl looked around frantically, scanning his surroundings, while taking out several walkers on his way. "Y/N!" He couldn't see you. He just couldn't see you. "Y/N!" The tank, standing in the yard distracted his search for a moment, as he made sure to push a grenade down the gun, causing the man inside to jump out, before the tank exploded. Daryl was quick in driving an arrow through the enemy's chest; looking once again around. "Y/N!" The archer was on the edge of despair, so afraid to lose you. He had held your hand so tight and nevertheless, you were just suddenly gone, vanished into thin air, just because he had to use the hand which was clasping yours to kill an approaching walker. It was a mistake. He should've never let you go and rather just waste an arrow. Feeling the tears coming up in his eyes and witnessing more walkers storming the destroyed home they had built up, he screamed out your name from the top of his lungs for one last time. No response. No you. "Fuck!" He cursed, throwing his weapons to the ground and rubbing the heels of his hands in his eyes - until a familiar voice spoke up behind him.

"Daryl!" The archer spun around. His gaze landed on a young woman with blonde hair. Beth. "I was trying to find the kinds to get them on the bus." Daryl shook his head. "I lost Y/N. I can't find 'er. I can't find 'er." Beth looked at him compassionately, taking his hand. "I'm so sorry, Daryl." The man was quiet for a moment, until he ripped his hand loose from the teenager's soft grip. "You gotta Beth, you gotta go. Get yourself to safety." The young woman's eyes widened. "No! I-I... What about you?" "I can't leave. I need ta find Y/N. I can't lose her." Beth frantically shook her head. "You can't, Daryl. If you stay, you're going to get yourself killed! There are too many walkers!" "Don care. Gotta find 'er." He wanted to walk past Beth, but she held him back with a hand pressed against his chest. "No! Y/N wasn't inside the prison. I didn't see her. You couldn't find her outside. What if she was inside the bus, or left already with someone else?" Daryl's eyes flickered, the gears in his head turning. "Please... If you go in there now and get yourself killed, Y/N is the one who is going to suffer. You don't want that, do you?" Daryl swallowed, shaking his head. "No." "See? Now come on. We have to go. We'll look for her, I promise!" He nodded and followed Beth, still not sure if this was the right decision.

Time passed. Day after day went by. While you, Tyreese and Judith found Carol on your way, Daryl lost Beth to god knows who and found Rick, Carl and Michonne somewhere on the way. They weren't you, but he was relieved to see that other members of his family had survived. Unfortunately, they didn't know what happened to you as well, leaving the archer still in the dark. It was torturous. But so it was for you.

At some point, you lost track of time, couldn't tell if the weeks had already turned to months or not. What you knew was, that the baby living inside you, must be there already for at least three months, since you lately started to show, having a small baby bump now. Carol quickly counted one and one together as well, making sure together with Tyreese that you were safe and protected.

Well... And then Terminus happened. While Daryl tried to stay alive with the others, Carol went on a rescue mission. You wanted to accompany her at all costs, but of course she didn't let you. She didn't want to risk your life and with that the baby's life as well. So, you stayed behind in that little hut with Tyreese and Judith, making sure that this strange man you took hostage didn't escape. Let's put it this way... Not every part of it went according to plan, but in the end everything turned out to be fine. More than fine, actually...

"I'm not digging around with this crap. We just made it out." "The fences are down. They'll run or die." Daryl listened in silence to the group and Rick's arguing, biting his lower lip - until he heard the leaves of the forest ground crunch, alerting him that someone - or most likely rather something must be there. He was right. But it wasn't something. It was someone. Carol. Daryl couldn't believe his eyes, seeing his best friend standing there, only a few feet away. He didn't think he would ever see her again. Not after she had been banished by Rick. But there she was. Daryl didn't hesitate, ran over to her and pulled her into a big hug. That attracted the others attention as well. Everyone was exhausted to the core, but undeniably happy to see Carol. Rick as well. He approached the two friends. "Did you do that?" Carol nodded meekly, on the verge of tears. Rick went immediately to hug her, wrapping both his arms tightly around his friend. "Thank you." The grey-haired woman retreated from the hug, smiling softly. "You have to come with me."

That was exactly what they all did. They followed Carol to the little hut… "They're back! Y/N they're back!" Tyreese exclaimed, watching their family approach the hut through one of the windows. "Really?!" You literally jumped up from where you sat on the ground beside Judith's makeshift crib. "Yes!" "Daryl! Can you see Daryl?!" Tyreese turned to face you, smiling. "Look for yourself." You sprinted to the window, seeing familiar and also a few unfamiliar faces. Among them, was Daryl. Seeing him kickstarted your heart, sending waves of pure happiness through your veins. "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh," you splattered out, before moving over to run out of the hut. "Daryl! Daryl!" The archer's eyes shot up, landing directly on you. For the second time within minutes, he couldn't believe his eyes. He had already lost hope, thinking he was never ever going to see you again. "Y/N..." He breathed out, letting his crossbow fall to the ground and running towards you, meeting you halfway in a hug. You literally jumped into his arms, wrapping both your arms and legs around him. "Daryl..." You sobbed, burying your face in his neck. "Y/N..." You could tell that Daryl was crying as well. His voice quivering and unsteady. The world around you faded. Just you and Daryl existed in that very moment. "I-I thought I lost you. I thought I was never going to see you again." You stammered, still clinging to him. "Me too. I couldn't find ya. I searched for ya, but I just couldn't find ya." "I'm here now." You whispered with a smile, peppering the skin on his neck with small kisses. "I am never going let ya out of my sight again, I promise. 'M gonna protect you better, I swear." You shook your head. "You always protect me as best as you can. This wasn't your fault. Stop blaming yourself, please. It was the Governor's fault. Nobody else's." Daryl just nodded against your shoulder, relieved that he had you back in his arms. That was everything what mattered in that moment. You held him for another while, before you untangled yourself from around your boyfriend and backed up a bit, just enough to look into his blue, greyish eyes. Though, one eye was slightly swollen and red. All in all, he looked quite battered and bruised, causing your heart to ache. Gently, you cupped his scruffy cheeks, looking at him with furrowed brows, worried. He noticed that of course, "M fine. Don worry." and started immediately to rub reassuring circles in the clothed skin of your hips with his thumbs. "You don't look fine, Daryl." The archer shook his head. "M fine, really. Jus' a black eye and a few cuts and bruises... How are you? You alright?" His question reminded you suddenly of the baby, growing in your womb. His baby. You swallowed. Now was the time to tell him, wasn't it?

"Y-Yes, I am, b-but there's something I need to tell you, I-" "We need to go." Rick's voice suddenly cut through the air, loud enough to catch both, yours and Daryl's attention. The archer looked at his brother, an arm still protectively wrapped around you. He hadn't noticed your small baby bump yet. "Yeah, but where?" He asked. "Somewhere far away from there," answered Rick, everybody shuffling around to get ready for moving along. Daryl nodded, thinking the same as Rick. "You two coming?" "Yes, just give us a minute. We'll catch up." You jumped to answer your friend, before Daryl could. You had to tell him. Now. "Alright. Just don't stay behind. We'll make sure to look out for you." You nodded, giving him a smile. "Thanks." The others went to follow Rick, leaving you and Daryl on your own - for now. The archer's gaze met yours again, fear and worry clouding his blue-grey orbs. "What is it?" Daryl asked, eyes suddenly widening. "You didn't get bit, did ya?!" You quickly shook your head. "No, no! It's not that! I didn't get bit!" He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing out relieved. "Thank fuck. What is it then?" You took a deep breath. Now or never. "I-I'm pregnant." Daryl blinked, looking at you incredulously. "W-What?" You bit your lip, gently reaching for his hand and placing it on your small baby bump for him to feel. "I-I'm pregnant." An audible gasp left his lips; emotions getting stuck in his throat and tears blurring his vision. "P-Pregnant? Y-Yer pregnant?" You nodded, having to fight the tears once again as well. "Oh Y/N..." Daryl sobbed, engulfing you in another hug.

"Since when do you know?" You swallowed hard, knowing that this question would come. "A few days before the prison fell..." "W-What?" He was shocked. "Why didn't you tell me?" "I'm sorry. I-I wanted to, but I was so afraid because of what happened to Lori a-a-and I dunno... Before I could tell you, everything went south. I'm so sorry." "Damnit, Y/N... Jus' imagine what could've happen if you ended up alone out there? Ya could've died!" "But I didn't! I found Tyreese and Carol. They took care of me. They always made sure I was okay." Daryl scoffed, but took your hands into his. "Don scare the shit outta me again, woman, I swear…" You had to smile softly at his words, shaking your head, "Promise." and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him lovingly. "Let's catch up to the others. You stay close ta me. I don't want ya out of my sight, understood?" You nodded. "Yes, Sir." "Good." The archer intertwined your fingers with his, grabbed his crossbow and gently pulled you with him, in order to catch up to the others - what you did in the end. "So, you're not mad at me, that I'm, well... Pregnant?" Once again, he shook his head. "Why should I? This is wonderful, actually. Maybe not the best time, but we're gonna make this. Judith made it, too." You smiled up at him, your heart full and content with love. "I love you." "I love ya too, sunshine - and I promise I'm goin' to look after you and that kid."

#daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon #daryl x you #daryl imagines #daryl dixon imagine #twd fanfic #twd imagine #twd oneshot #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead fanfic #daryl dixon x pregnant!reader

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demieyesore · 2 days

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Sex and Feelings - Sam Monroe

Summary - Sam and you got into a heated argument that ended in tears and sex.

Warnings / Mentions - Fem!Reader, Insecure!Sam, mentions of drugs and other mental health issues, pet names used are baby, angel, and pretty girl/sweet girl, hurt comfort, small angst, makeup sex, sad sex, dacryphilia, both Sam and Reader are crying, oral (f receiving), Sam cums untouched, praise, Sam licks Reader's tears, creampie, squirting, NOT PROOF READ; SO PLEASE TELL ME IF THERE'S ANY MISTAKESSSS

A/N - I know I usually write GN!Reader, but I wanted to use certain affectionate terms like "pretty girl" and I haven't been able to think of a gender-neutral way yet...maybe just "pretty baby" or "pretty doll" Idk, send help fr...Also, does anyone have any idea how to avoid using Y/N in dialogue?

Requested - Yessir, right here

Word Count - 2197

Tag List - @vixxensvoid @maevesversion @sockiess @stylesslytherinskywalker @myheadhurtscutely

@yourenogoodforme @gallerygourmet @heartsforanakin @helendeath @ysrjune

@anisangeldust @catnipaddictt @ahano @itachicha @02ibiskywitt05

@espinathena-17 @lvrfay3

Gif by @sukugo

Tears flooded your eyes, and your senses went wild from the way your boyfriend was talking about himself and your relationship. Sam, your sweet yet devilish boyfriend, was pleading for you to break up with him.

"Sam, I just don't understand. I don't want to break up!" You tried over and over to reach out to him, but he only kept pulling away. His thoughts and mind are elsewhere. Sam had a hazy look in his eyes, one of fear and loneliness.

"Y/n, stop making this harder than it needs to be. I'm not good for you, and you fuckin' know it." Sam's exclamation caught you off guard. The aggressive use of language at the end makes you glow with anger. Your emotions are mixing in a pot, like ingredients. Some anger here, some fear there, some dread, and the final being your undying care for him.

"You can't possibly mean that! Sam, for the love of God, you are everything to me! I mean, yes, we all have our flaws, but I don't care!" Your voice echoed in the room. You had come over to his house in order to check in on him, wanting to hang out and watch a movie, only to see him getting high. Not the usual joint high, not pills, but he was in the middle of hanging himself in his closet when you walked into his room.

"Oh, fuck off; you don't mean that. You know just how bad I am for you; you just don't want to admit it. You never do!" He yelled at the end; you could tell he was starting to get emotional. As much as Sam loved you, he always struggled to believe that you actually liked him. It wasn't even fathomable for you to be in love with him.

It was like he was shutting down on you, but you didn't want to give him up. "Sammy, please...how do-- How do I fix this?" You took a deep breath, your nose sniffling from the stress on your mind and body. Sam was silently crying, his face contorting into one of pain. "You can't; you just can't! You can't do anything about it; you're not the one who needs fixing!" He seethes, pacing around his messy room as he tries to sort out his thoughts.

He's such a mess. He's wearing a band tee, one that he cut the sleeves off of to create a make shift tank top. A studded belt with a pair of black jeans. A leather bracelet cuff was on his right wrist, while the bracelet you made for him hung around his left. Sam was messing with the bracelet in an attempt to calm down.

"You don't need to be fixed; you're not an object. You need someone who can be there for you, Sam! You need to actually talk about your feelings instead of bottling them up, and trust me, I know how hard that can be!" You gestured towards him, knowing that your choice of words might have been harsh and ironic since he was the one begging for you to leave him.

Sam clocked the irony, ignoring the meaning behind what you said and just shouting in a choked-up voice. "I'm trying!" His anger got the better of him as he pulled at the bracelet you made him. It wasn't all that, but it was important to him and to you. The matching one adorns your own wrist. The cheap material is a piece of elastic string with cute beads. The bracelet held some cute little charms that fit his style, along with a heart and your name. Your bracelet has your own personal aesthetic, and it has his name.

As he angrily tugged at the jewelry, it snapped. He threw what little of the beads his hand caught in your direction. You flinched as some of them flew toward you. Pain prickled at your heart when the beads clattered to the floor. Sam realized what he had done in his small fit of rage. He knew that if he hadn't hurt you before, he had now.

His eyes soften with a flash of sincerity as he stays quiet. Neither of you dared to speak. The anger having died out entirely. Sam slowly walked towards you, both of you having tears running messily down your cheeks. Sam's eyeliner was smudged and tracking down in streaks.

As he neared, you didn't move. Allowing him to embrace you in a hug. His hands were around your waist as he pulled you into his chest. His forehead slumped towards the floor as he nuzzled himself into the crook of your neck. You could feel the wetness brushing on your shoulder from his own crying. Your arms came up and wrapped around him. You both didn't have the words—nothing that could truly say you were sorry.

"Baby," Sam started, cutting himself off as he put together his thoughts. He felt uneasy as he tried to think of a way to apologize. A way to get you to forgive him for his outburst. He knew it wasn't your fault he felt this way, and he knew that he was just self-sabotaging another relationship.

Sam's brain finally formed an idea—the only way he could think of to say he was so fuckin' sorry.

"Baby, let me make it up to you..." Sam finalized it, and the both of you are still crying from the distress of the situation. You tried to pull away so you could look at him and listen to him, but he didn't let you. Confusion rippled through you when his grip on you tightened, tilting your head to the side as a result of your puzzlement. Which just made Sam's job so much easier as he began placing soft kisses on your neck. His mouth trailed up your throat as he sucked at your soft skin. You hummed in satisfaction at his affectionate behavior. Both Sam and you had clouded minds still as he kissed up your jaw, making his way to your swollen lips. Already red and puffy, bitten raw from your sobbing.

Sam just loved seeing you like this; he hated to say it, but you were so pretty when you cried, and you often thought the same thing about him. The way his face would screw together in pain, his eyes watery, and his skin looking red was the most beautiful sight in the world. One of Sam's hands snaked up to your face, cradling you into his palm. He could feel your cheekbone pressed against him, his thumb wiping the liquid dampening under your eye.

The kiss grew more heated; Sam wanted more of you. He wanted all of you, and that was part of the problem in the first place. He felt like he was too selfish with you. Sam prodded at your lower lip with his tongue, and you eagerly let him in. Loving the intimate and passionate way he invaded your mouth. Always wanting to taste you, he'd devour you if he could.

Sam moaned into the kiss. You weren't quite vocal yet. Your emotions are still running rampant, keeping you in a non-verbal-like state. Sam could feel himself getting hard, his hand on your waist slipping down momentarily to massage himself through his jeans. Something that was difficult, but he needed some kind of feeling down there. He was only kissing you, and it was driving him crazy. Sam only ever wanted to please you. Be there for you, but he always felt like he was letting you down. He desperately wanted to save you from himself. He was terrified of taking you down with him. So instead, he would go down on you.

Sam pushed you towards the bed, backing you up until your legs hit the edge, forcing you to sit down. Sam broke the kiss as he unzipped his jeans, pulling them down and kicking them off as he grabbed you by your ankles. He folded you in on yourself, keeping you stable as he pulled off your shorts down your legs, tossing them off god knows where into his room. Once you both were free from your bottoms, Sam kneeled in front of you.

He pulled you closer to him, a yelp escaping your plump lips. Sam didn't bother taking off your panties, opting to just push them to the side with how impatient he was getting. Just as Sam's face got closer to your cunt, he stopped, glancing up at you. His voice was low with need as he asked, "Okay with this pretty girl?" You hummed in approval, words still lacking from your brain and mouth. Sam wouldn't push you to answer today with words; he's already aware of how you react when sensitive.

He dipped his head back to your cunt, his finger caught your panties and pulled them to the side. He watched in amusement and desire when he saw what he'd claimed multiple times. He could tell you were already wet but didn't care as he spat his saliva on your exposed pussy. His hand that wasn't occupied with your underwear came up, sinking a finger in between your folds as he swiped up along your slit. Making sure that you were coated well. He pulled his middle finger back, sucking it clean, before resting his hand on your thigh, keeping it in place.

His tongue finally came into contact with your pretty pussy, licking up and gently sucking on your clit. He pressed kisses on your cunt, as he lapped at you hungrily. His tongue poking at your entrance. He moaned into you as his tongue fucked your little hole. Your little whines falling from your mouth were music to his ears, fueling him to get more aggressive and fasten his pace. His lips were swiping across your cunt as he sucked and kissed you. "Prettiest pussy in the fuckin' world, sweet girl."

Sam was shifting uncomfortably from his boner, trying to ignore it as he ate you out. Your little whines and whimpers turned into moans and shrieks of pleasure as he feasted on you. Acting as if he hadn't eaten for a week. He was plunging into you as if you were the air he needed. The knot in your stomach was unraveling, and he could feel it as your cunt fluttered around his tongue. He kept up with what he was doing, giving you exactly what you needed. The cord in your core broke as the most pornographic moan ripped from you, your legs shaking and clamping down around his head as he ate you out through your orgasm.

Sam whimpered at your reaction, getting off on the fact that he knew you were satisfied with him. "Shit- oh fuck!" Sam whined into your pussy, the vibrations overwhelming you as he came. His boxers were stained with the sticky fluid.

Sam finally moved out of your thighs, standing up and flipping you onto your stomach. He easily lifted your ass into the air, propping you up on your knees while your chest pressed into his sheets. He wasted no time as he freed himself from his briefs. Lining up with your sopping wet cunt as he pushed in. Sam threw his head back, a couple more of his tears sliding down his face and dripping onto the floor. He whined as you gasped into his pillows, not entirely letting you adjust to his size as he started moving. He wasn't being rough, but he was being fast. Your tears soaked into his bed, your mouth opening in pleasure as he fucked into you. Sam rammed into you, slapping noises heard throughout the room. "So good, angel, takin' me so well. This pussy was made for me, fuckkkk..." He drawled out.

Sam leaned to your back, enveloping your throat with his hand as he pulled you to him. His hips not slowing, but definitely hitting deeper than before. "My beautiful girl, only one meant for me. Always know just what I need." He whimpered into your ear; the airflow you were getting was slightly chopped off from his hand. The feeling was like ecstasy as he pounded into you. His praises drove you to the edge again. Sam licked your cheek, collecting the drying tears on his tongue. The flavor was salty, but he enjoyed it. His thrusts are growing sloppy from the overstimulating orgasm building. He made sure to hold off, wanting to keep your own white-hot pleasure going for as long as he could. Your pussy leaking as he pulled out. Juices spraying on his cock as he ran his tip throughout your folds, playing with the stream you were squirting. "Even your pussy is crying for me." Sam laughed through his emotion-filled voice. Once you stopped, he pushed back in, giving a couple more thrusts into you before stilling. Sam held onto you tightly as he came, thick ropes spurting into you.

"I'm taking back my demand; you can't break up with me now." Sam jokes as you both start coming down from your highs, wiping away the water weeping from his eyes.

#demieyesore #sam monroe x y/n #sam monroe x you #sam monroe fanfiction #sam monroe smut #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe imagine #sam monroe

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plutoccult · 4 months

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NO ME QUEDA MAS

pairing: hajime iwaizumi x female reader

description: iwaizumi’s wedding day was a day you dreaded for many years. now that the day had finally come, you regret never telling him how you feel.

word count: 1.6k

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: finally, a new theme! i’m on an angst GRIND, you guys. been feeling really unhinged lately thanks to my girl @intorder for giving me fuel for angst, who also beta read this hurt piece. oddly enough, my life has been pretty good lately, so idk why i thought to write this. i’ve never written for iwaizumi before, but he came to mind first when i thought of this idea. this was definitely inspired by that one scene in 13 going on 30, but i made it hurt even more. i hope i did iwaizumi justice, and i hope you all enjoy without crying?

tags: @toorubobatea @intorder @dragon-slayer5 @jeanboyjean @femme-lune @darthferbert @kob3nie @thelazyhuevito @multi-fandom-fanfic @sterieshinso @kiiyomei @chrybdcsm @alienlatteinspace @abonbonblr @luverofutoshi @p3ritwinkle @juuzou13

taglist form here

“well? how do i look?”

iwaizumi turned around to face you as he showed off his suit. you couldn’t believe he was actually getting married today, and that the person he was marrying wasn’t you. it was hellish to shove your feelings down your throat for decades, especially when your friendship suffered god knows how many miles apart.

a part of you died the day he returned from california. you were so thrilled to see him, missing him so, but your heart shattered the second you saw he brought a girl with him. it was even worse when iwaizumi spoke to you about her, saying he felt like he knew she was the girl he would marry the second he saw her. you wanted to be that girl, and maybe you could’ve if you simply spoke up. after all, everyone always teased you two about ending up together growing up.

“you look great, iwa.” you force a smile. it wasn’t a lie, he was the most handsome man you’d ever seen, standing so proud and tall in his suit. not a single scratch or crease on his shoes nor any signs of wear in his jacket. as much as it pained you to see it, iwaizumi had grown up.

“you think so?” he asked, checking himself out in the mirror, scanning for any flaws in his outfit. “i could’ve sworn i saw lint on the back of my jacket.”

“oh, i can get it.” you offer. iwaizumi immediately said “yes, please” and “thank you” before you stood up to help him. his back faced you, shoulders as strong as ever, making this all the more difficult for you. if you were his bride, you probably wouldn’t be seeing him like this right now. it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, after all.

“how come your groomsmen aren’t up here helping you?” you ask, cursing yourself in your head for being so nosy.

“i’m sure you can understand i didn’t want oikawa up my ass before i go down there.” iwaizumi chuckled. you force yourself to copy his laughter, pretending as if you found this so hilarious. if oikawa were here, you wouldn’t be ridden with temptation right now. only he could stop you from saying things you knew you’d regret.

“i guess i should feel special then, huh?” you question. “be the first to see you like this…”

“mhm.” he replied, you see him nod in the mirror. “special privileges for my best friend.”

you felt your stomach tie up in knots as he said that. best friend. that’s all you were, that’s all you ever allowed yourself to be. it could’ve been you waiting for him at the altar, but instead you’re helping him get prepared to marry another woman, ready to beg him to run away with you.

you pretend to inspect the back of his jacket, knowing there wasn’t any lint anyway. it was absolutely flawless, just like him. this was torture for you, and you couldn’t stand another second longer.

“listen, iwa…” you begin to say. “i should tell you something before you go down there.”

“oh?” iwaizumi turned around to face you. you felt as if his eyes were piercing through your soul, making your heart race faster than it was before. “what is it?”

“i, um…” you hesitate. was it too late to go back? yes, yes it was. “i think you’re marrying the wrong girl today.”

“huh?” he furrowed his eyebrows.

“i mean, i think you should be marrying me instead.” you blurt out.

“y/n, what are you talking about?” iwaizumi questioned. this couldn’t be real, this couldn’t be happening right as he was about to get married.

“i’m in love with you, iwa. i love you.” you admit, your heart racing upon your confession. you should feel a weight being lifted off your shoulders, but something heavy still lingered on top of you.

“no…” he shook his head. iwaizumi had rejected the possibility a long time ago. even if he loved you just as long as you loved him, you were just too late.

“yes. i am.” you say.

“you’re saying this now?” he asked you. it almost made him want to laugh. life was just so funny, he thought to himself. why couldn’t you have said this before? why did you wait until he was about to get married? if things were different, iwaizumi would be reacting to this much differently right now.

“i know i should’ve told you before you went to california—“

“should’ve? i wanted you to!” iwaizumi interrupted you, much to your shock. “everyone said you were going to before i left! i just figured they were just messing with me afterwards…”

you remember telling oikawa how you felt about iwaizumi, it was his idea to tell him before iwaizumi left for california. you had it all planned out in your head, but as you stood there at the airport, you couldn’t find the words anymore. you chickened out, cursing yourself on the way home and the days that would come. it only made you feel worse when iwaizumi found someone.

what you didn’t know was that he expected your confession that day. you should’ve known oikawa would run his mouth. he always meant well, always hoping you’d end up with iwaizumi, but look at you now, a delusional fool.

“i was going to, iwa. i just got scared…” you confess to him. “if i could go back to that day, i’d do it differently.”

“well, you can’t turn back time, y/n. it’s too late.” he said coldly, almost like a stab to the heart.

“why not?” you ask, desperately clinging onto your delusions.

“i moved on.” iwaizumi replied. he might as well be twisting a knife, even if he was merely speaking the truth. “we've both gone down different paths, we both made choices, and this is what i’m choosing.”

“i just thought…” you began to say, but fall silent.

“just thought what?” he asked, raising his voice. “that i’d give up everything i’ve built for a last minute confession? one that i gave up on waiting for years ago?”

you don’t say anything. what was there to say? it was exactly what that sick part of you deep down expected. how stupid of you to think he would drop everything just because you finally had the courage to confess your feelings. if there wasn’t a whole wedding waiting to happen, maybe iwaizumi would change his mind.

you look away in shame. even if you didn’t speak your thoughts aloud, you still felt disgusted now that the reality of your confession hit you. you were terrible to think this way. not just a terrible person, but a terrible friend too. it was unfair to expect such a tall order out of him, especially now.

“my family’s down there, my soon-to-be in-law’s are down there.” iwaizumi said. “we care about each other, you know?”

“i know.” you say quietly as you bite your lip.

“y/n, you…” he let out a sigh. “you don't always get the dream house… but you get awfully close.”

you look up to meet his eyes, tears streaming down your face. to him, you were always the dream house. if only you had known that before, you thought. iwaizumi felt ridden with guilt rejecting you like this, and it didn’t help that you were crying your eyes out.

“please don't cry, y/n.” he begged you.

“what? no, i'll be fine, i promise.” you force out a laugh, no matter how much it killed you. you saw the look in iwaizumi’s eyes. he knew you weren’t truly okay, but he also knew that you were letting him go. it was the right thing to do.

“y/n…”

“it’s okay. i'm fine.” you wipe away your tears, trying your best to be strong. “i'm just crying because i'm happy. i want you to be so, so happy.”

you did, you wanted him to be happy. even if it wasn’t with you, you owed him the ability to be happy. it was the least you could do while you still had some of your dignity left.

“i love you, iwa.” you barely get the words out. “you… you're my best friend.”

you see iwaizumi’s eyes well up with tears, a rare sight to see. only you could produce such a reaction out of him. only you would truly have his heart forever, but life doesn’t always work out the way you want it to. it was just the way things go.

“i should go. everybody’s waiting for you.” you say, on your way out the door.

“y/n, i...” you stop in your tracks, waiting for what he’d say next, and it only crushed you even more. “i've always loved you.”

overwhelmed, you walk out of the room in tears, ready to bolt out of the venue without another thought. oikawa found you on your way out, asking what was wrong and where you were going, but when he saw mascara running down your face, he knew exactly what happened, and he knew he should’ve been there to stop it.

you insist to oikawa that he tell iwaizumi you were sorry before you finally left the venue. you couldn’t stand to be there a second longer, you just had to get out of here. as you head to your car, you hear the beginning of the wedding march play. the sound brought you to your knees as you violently sobbed. if this was rock bottom, then you finally reached it.

as much as you wanted to cry there forever, you force yourself to get up, finally finding the strength to get into your car. you didn’t know where you were headed, but you knew you had to drive off somewhere far away from here. if only you could just turn back time.

#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x female reader #haikyu x female reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x female reader #hajime iwaizumi x female reader #iwaizumi x female reader #iwaizumi hajime #hajime iwaizumi #pluto writes 📝#gif divider by cafekitsune

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bronx-bomber87 · 5 months

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Happy Saturday Fandom :) This ep is solid gold. We see how Lucy takes care of Tim in her own way in this one. How pranking is one of their natural love languages. The continuous pining era continues on. It’s pretty damn glorious. Let’s get going shall we?

5x06 The Reckoning

We start off with Aaron and Tim. The more we get these two more I love it. Aaron asking Tim if he should be working? Didn’t he just have surgery? Tim deflects and says it was only an old bullet. Mmhmm. Aaron really jumps in after that. Says he heard him talking to Ashley about him grabbing rest of his stuff.... The balls on him LOL Tim straight up walks away from his ass before he can speak more. It’s so funny. Lucy can immediately see how grumpy Tim is as he approaches her.

She stops him and gets him to say good morning. Your girl won’t be ignored Timothy haha Also seeing her and Chris laughing no doubt added to his grumpy fire. He was trying to avoid it all together. Sadly your wife will not allow this. Tim is as civil as he can muster up. Not wanting to say or do more. Truly doesn't want to be around the clown.

So after his pleasantries he takes back off. Leaving Lucy stunned in his wake. She immediately looks to Aaron. Who says too much and yet not enough for her. Lucy is reaching for more but Aaron isn’t stupid. He stumbles around and tries to get away ASAP. Fearing he’s said too much as it is. The fear Tim has instilled in him is hilarious. Lucy is left wondering what the hell is going on with her best friend?

Aaron tries to get Tim talk again. Idk why he thinks he would truly I don't. lol He flames out pretty quickly with the idea. It's a swing and a miss good sir. Only one who gets that is currently not in this shop. They stop to help this director with a prop that fell out. Aaron tries to lift it solo to impress this girl. He fails so badly. Tim has to be tagged in to help him. This is where the premise of this episode begins.

Tim placing his radio down in her truck bed to help. Their hilarious banter kills me while they lift it up. My god it’s amazing Tim doesn’t kill Aaron regularly LOL Poor Tim looks wiped by the time they’re done loading it back up. He has to take a call while Aaron fails miserably at hitting on her. It’s so funny I’m cackling. They get called away while the director takes off with Tim’s radio...

The director finds Lucy of all people to return the radio to. What cracks me up the most is the director's confusion from Lucy's excitement LOL All she wants to do is the right thing with it and get it back to Tim. Here's Lucy 0-60 explosion of happiness with how delighted she is he forgot it. This scene is so great for a couple reasons. First off her calling Tim 'Broody.' I’m dying. I mean he can be pretty broody especially right now. It just kills me that’s how she referred to Tim. Second she seems so confused by Lucy’s excitement.

She starts going off about how Tim is a super cop. How he’s never once let her forget about being late to roll call one time. Asking her 'Can you believe that?' This girl is like ‘Ok….’ She just wanted to drop off a radio LMFAO. Even says ‘You’ll give it to him right? ‘Wondering if Lucy will given how giddy she is about him losing it. Lucy promises her she will…but she just gave her a Christmas present ha Not a good day unless she can mess with her soulmate.

Lucy is about to tell him when we see a look of realization dawn over her. Now we know she knows something is wrong with Tim. For him to forget his radio is a sin he would’ve blasted her to the wall for. She knows he’s off. Just doesn’t know why. Teasing/pranking is one of their love languages. Which is why she chooses this path with his radio going forward. So married even when they aren’t even sharing scenes.

We return to Tim and Aaron ripping apart their shop for his radio. Tim is frantic as he searches for it. Says he’s going to check their kit bag again. It then hits him that the lady they helped has it. Tim knows Aaron was trying to hit on her while he was on the phone. What Tim didn’t see was Aaron absolutely crash and burn with his lines.

So Tim asks if he got her number? Aaron KILLS me with his answer. He seems so cocky with his 'Almost.' I’m rolling. Tim’s reaction is the best part. Like what the hell am I going to do with that info? It’s completely useless and helps him in no way. Their dynamic is hysterical. I don’t know pre-Lucy Tim could’ve handled Aaron the way present day Tim does. lmao

Tim’s phone goes off. It’s someone texting him about his radio. He is so very confused what's happening. Also very agitated they're holding it hostage. Aaron asks who it is? Tim doesn’t know but says they’re in a lot of trouble. Aaron being his rookie self just says to do an incident report. Tim tells him why he can’t do that. I mean a day of suspension for a Sergeant isn't a good look...So I don't blame him for wanting to hunt it down instead. Tim zooms in and say that he knows where this is. So the race begins to find his stolen radio.

The guys arrive at a coffee truck. Aaron making a comment it looks sketchy af LOL Tim defends it saying this is where he gets his coffee every morning. Goes on a mini rant about screen writers and oak milk mafia. I love this man so much. His dislike of screenwriter continues and it's so funny. Aaron saying that line I love so much. That I have used couple times in previous reviews. Telling him he’s like the old dude from UP. I mean he is. haha But we love him just the same.

He asks the owner if she’s seen his radio? She tells him no. It’s then he gets another text of his radio on a studio lot. Aaron is so confused why this is happening. Saying they haven’t asked for money or anything. They could be doing anything with that radio but not this. Tim says he’s not sure but they’re gonna find out.

They make it the studio lot fairly quickly. They find out it’s where Tim’s fav movie was filmed. Aaron starts to put it together little more. Saying first his fav coffee place then his fav movie. Whoever this is texting him knows him really well. It’s then it hits Tim. it’s Lucy. Ain’t no one knows that man better than her. He knows it too. Who else would know about his elitist black coffee spot, favorite movie and the lot it was filmed on? His wife heh.

We get our first real scene of the episode and it’s glorious. They’re about as married as it gets in this scene. I love how post 5x05 they’re back to being flirty and playful. The teasing is top notch in this scene. Tim asks her right off the bat where his radio is? Lucy plays dumb and says maybe a vengeful spirit took it. It is Halloween after all. Tim doesn’t give into her teasing at first. Ask's why she’s doing this? He's SO grumpy Lordy lord. Good thing Lucy is well versed in all things Tim Bradford.

This doesn't phase her in the least. She charges forward with her plan. Continuing to play dumb and says she doesn’t know what he’s talking about… The sarcastic banter really picks up above. He asks if she’s doing this because he was tough on her as a rookie? I mean that could be one reason haha But that isn't THE reason Tim. Lucy is armed with sass and maximum level teasing with her reply ‘We’re you? Gosh, I hadn’t noticed…’

Lucy throws out her bait waiting for him to take a bite. Hoping he does so. Wrapping her concern into some playful banter. Thinking if she offers up her 'help.' He will crack and tell her what's going on with him. Tim holds steady and is just as sassy in his reply. Telling her there is nothing going on with him. Ok Tim....it's not like you're talking to the one person who knows you best or anything...

Lucy drops the playful banter and gets real with him. We can hear the concern in her voice. Especially the way she says 'Are you okay?' She is truly worried about him. She can't stand him being upset and her not knowing why. We do see him soften when she shows that concern for him. His words are saying one thing but his face is saying another. Look at that man above. All soft looks and heart eyes for her asking. For caring.

Despite the sweet look above he is is deflection nation with Lucy in his reply. Come on Timothy of all the people to do this to she is not the one. Can read you like a damn book blind if she had to. The thing to note here is the amount of feelings being shown here. Goodness these two are so damn loud with their feelings. In the middle of the bloody precinct no less. Which has been a thing for them since S4 really. No one could've been shocked they ended up together. If they were they clearly weren't paying attention ha

All Lucy wants to do is fix it for him. It's her natural instinct to do so. But the problem is Tim isn't sharing the problem so she can do this for him. He is being SO stubborn. She truly doesn't understand why he's being this obstinate. The best part of the scene is Lucy legit stomping off in frustration. Can't stand anymore of his games and takes off.

She is so damn mad he won’t just share with her. Share with your wife Timothy. His reaction kills me as well. Eric crushes it with the facial expressions. It's so friggin funny. Tim is just as exasperated with her and she is with him. Gah these two idiots in love. Acting like an old married couple in public. Lucy keeping his damn radio if he’s going to be a stubborn ass LOL I’m dying this scene is masterful.

Lucy comes up to Aaron again seeing if he knows anything. He tells her Tim is just upset about his radio. Lucy offers up she will give him the radio if he just spills it. Aaron holds strong and says he doesn’t know. Tim bypasses her on the way to the shop. Lucy’s sass is fantastic ‘Hi. Good morning.’ Mirroring the one at the beginning of the episode.

Like excuse me hubby you can’t just ignore me and not say hello. Lucy asks the question she already knows the answer to about his radio. Tim tells her it’s in the shop. We hear a call go off for a supervisor. Tim reaches in and grabs this gigantic radio answering dispatch back. Oh Tim...

Lucy’s face is hilarious. Trying not to laugh at his stubborn dumbass. All she wanted you to do was talk my love. Not like you haven't done that before. Now you’ve forced her hand in this prank war LOL Tim is trying so hard to save face with his ‘This is it.’ Lucy giving him crap that hasn’t been standard since the 60s. Tim ignores her and tells Aaron to roll.

Lucy can’t help herself and wants a picture of him with it. I love how cute she is. Tim ignores her and rolls up his window. Her reaction to him shutting window it's so funny. I mean look at HER FACE in that second gif. Like she wasn’t going to think of something to get him to use it. To get back at him for doing that. He brought this on himself. You can’t play these games and expect to win Tim haha

Such a wifey in this moment wanting a pic. I’m laughing so hard about this scene. Lucy tells him to do a radio check. That way she can get her damn pic. Tim’s face is so very over it. I’ve said this many times before. This is the woman you’ve chosen to love Tim LOL Her unbridled joy at thinking of this is so precious. Enjoying her damn self torturing him till he finally fesses up. Can you imagine the camera roll on both of these goobs phones? Probably a plethora of these types of moments. If looks could kill in that 4th gif. Good thing she's immune.

We catch our lovely duo at the end of shift. Lucy comes up with his radio. Hands it back to him. I love how both hold onto it longer than necessary. The symbolism with the radio was seen writers I see you. It was their way of keeping them connected through out this episode. Lucy’s way of staying connected with him. Doing her best to try and distract him. Take care of him in her own way through this prank. One of their love languages whether they admit it or not.

She didn't even know what was wrong but knew she needed to do something for him. Lucy telling him she thought it would be more fun to torture him. Help distract him from whatever he’s going through right now. Wanted to help him get his mind off of whatever is bothering him. Comments she should know better than to get into his personal business... Gah look at the way that man looks at her after she says that. To paraphrase Chandler Bing 'Could he be anymore in love with her?’ You are his personal business Lucy Chen.

All that’s been running around in his mind since you kissed him in 4x22. Tell me you’re in love without saying you are. That’s both of them in this scene. Especially our boy. Tim see's what she did for him. He can’t let her walk away without explaining. This is such growth for him. Look at this man sharing why he’s upset with her. Being truthful and honest about what happened. Lucy’s ‘I’m sorry.’ I truly think she is sorry for him but not for the situation. Inside I’m sure she’s doing victory dance of epic proportions.

He then does Lucy one more solid. Tells her he appreciates her radio gag. That it did help take his mind off things. I love this sfm. Not only has this man shared his feelings with her he then does this. My damn heart. Being so vulnerable in this moment with her. If you don’t see the growth that is this moment for Tim you haven’t been paying attention. I’m so proud of him. Look how far he's come. All because of that beautiful human in front of him. Beautiful inside and out. The impact she has had on this man is unreal.

Also It’s heart eyes nation out here and we’re all here for it. I mean she pranked him so he would feel better. And then he did. That’s love people. Also so very on brand for them it’s insane. Another thing I adore is he is going out of his comfort zone. All to thank her for what she did for him. Not just be annoyed but thank her. 'Started from the bottom now were here.' Oh my lord the growth. Let's not bypass the affectionate stares Lucy is throwing his way as well. This is a two way street of heart eyes and affection in this moment.

The way he looks at her when after she says ‘Well, good.’ Look at that man above. Might as well be a billboard that screams ‘Tim Bradford is hopelessly in love with Lucy Chen.’ Also my god he looked delicious as hell in that shirt. Dark blue does him wonders mmm. That’s my fav color with my fav human. Double yum. Plus biceps on display. Sinfully delicious this man.

Anyways heh There is so much left unsaid and tension between them. You can see it above. There is more Tim wants to say. It reminds me of their parking lot chat in 4x22. Where Lucy is holding her breath as she waits for it. Tim trying to build up the courage to say it. Before he can the clown walks over. Having no idea what he’s just walked into.

Chris comes barreling in like an idiot. Or maybe for once he senses something. But that might be giving him too much credit. Lucy asking if Tim wants to join them? I mean that sounds like legit hell to Tim. He understands her motives though. Maybe if it was just her….Tim does his patented fake Sanford smile. The one where it doesn’t really touch his eyes.

He’s just uncomfortable and wants to go. Look at his body language all he wants to do is flee. He declines and tells them to have fun. You can see Chris's face is slightly confused when Lucy offers this. Like why are you offering for your boss to join us? Cause she's in love with him but you're not gonna put that together. What a ignorant putz lol

We talk about the pinning era in this first half a lot. This one moment is the most epic of the pinning. Tim Bradford is legit LONGING for Lucy out in the open. How he blatantly turns back to watch them go. My poor heartbroken man. The way he drops his arm in defeat. Frustrated she’s with Chris and not him. Gah it's so good. Tim looking devastated she’s with the clown. That he has to go home alone without her. That mistake from 4x12 coming back to haunt him in this moment. Watching as they leave with deep longing and want in his eyes for her. He sighs and climbs into his truck.

Both of their looks are saying so much in this moment. This is what I mean by angsty goodness. Hurts so good to watch these kind of scenes. Lucy sensing his eyes on her and looks right back. The game has changed for her now he’s not with Ashley. It shows as she gazes back at Tim. She's supposed to be present with the clown...but her look indicates she is anything but that. Lucy is back at that truck mentally with Tim as she returns that look. She is throwing out just as much love and longing as Tim is in these looks of theirs. She is feeling what he is throwing down and feels the pull to him. Damn good ep good I love the pining era. It’s *chef kiss*

~~~

Side notes-non Chenford

James and Nyla was goodness per usual always enjoy their SL’s

Wes’s SL was ROUGH. Elijah winning and his past being drug up in this one. I wanted to smack him a bit and so did Angela lol

Thank you as always to the amazing readers of these reviewer. Your likes, comments and reblogs fuel my soul and I adore you all. See you in 5x07 :)

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

Note

HII gorgeous 👋👋 I wanted to say I love your writing and honestly your brilliant mind gracing us with all of your stories 🤩 with that being said my birthday is in a week— eeekk 21 BITCHHH 😛😛😈 and I wanted to request a HOTD cast imagine since I’m pretty sure they’ll start filming soon, so imagine maybe a raging birthday party just before filming or something and it gets crazyyy and wild and wouldn’t it be great to get sloshed with Emma D’Arcy 😃 doing this would be a pretty rocking birthday present soo… not to put pressure… 👀👀🤭

(Also I’m the star points bitch. So keep that in mind hon 🔍🔍 this is your redemption arc)

Sloshed 🥴

HoTD Cast & Reader (there's a paring here somewhere if you quint hard enough)

Summary: To celebrate your birthday, your castmates in HotD throw you a makeshift party with a karaoke machine, a poorly homemade cake, and lots and lots of alcohol.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: gender neutral!reader, drinking/drunkenness/everyone gets cronked, super chaotic everything, grade school bullying (affectionate), crack fic, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY START POINTS NONNIE! (im not going to call you bitch because i dont like that word) im sure at this point youre prolly 22 T_T but better late than never. also Omg my child 😭 you think i give a shit about redemption??? HAHAHAAH IT MAKES ME WANT TO FUCK THIS UP SO BAD but the request is so compelling that i'll silence the part of my brain that is screaming for murder HAHAHA idk it all kinda went all over the place but lol enjoy star points nonnie! or dont i dont care Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony

You had your phone on, eye level, recording, flashlight and all, so did Milly. You were both snorting to yourselves as you made your way through the streets-

"WHERE THE STREETS HAVE NO NAME!" you sing, flailing your arms around as you spun on the pavement.

No, no, you weren't drunk yet. But boy were you were excited to be.

Milly had picked you up and, like an idiot, spoiled the surprise party altogether by being too giddy and blabbermouthed. It was obvious she was leading you to a 'secret birthday party' and though Milly adamantly denied to her final breath, when you got to the venue, still somehow startled by the loud scream of 'SURPRISE HAPPY BIRTHDAY!', Emma gave her a piece of their mind for being so obvious.

You immediately hugged the gals, namely Olivia, Emily, and Phia, then after gave a kiss to person who remembered your birthday at all, Emma.

"I love you so much," you muttered as you pulled them into a hug, nearly choking them in the process. Emma chuckles, sealing their arms around you with a lot less enthusiasm, only cause in you were a python comparison.

They turn to Milly, who was already heading for the food, "did you two drink already?"

"No, babe, we're drunk on life!" Milly responds, pouring herself a drink.

Emma and Olivia turn to each other, the latter rolls her eyes exaggeratedly, "dear god, to be twen'y somthin'."

Emma snorts as you finally pull away from them.

You spin your arm overhead, stupidly forgetting you had your phone in hand. This allows it to get darted across the room, nearly hitting Phia on the way.

You scramble for the object, amazed that it was uncracked and still in one piece, camera still filming everything. You look up to everyone and call out, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!"

Each person in the room cheers and claps for you, immediately getting ready for the festivities.

At one point, you managed to end and restart recording on your phone as you eat some chips and ready the second song on a karaoke machine, and by karaoke machine, I mean a big-ish laptop propped on an box on a table connected to a Bluetooth speaker that was honestly impressively loud for its size.

It was also at this time, the MIA boys finally arrived, as in Fabien, Tom, Ewan, & Matt, carrying fast food and drinks, cheering as they came for absolutely no other reason than to be loud.

Now. Now, the party was really getting started.

After eating and the singing got old, an idea was proposed. You don't know whose genius (stupid) idea it was to play fucking marco polo, but DAMN was it intense.

You down the last for your 3rd(?) beer before running off as the it of the game neared you. You find yourself in a corner where Matt now to your right. You do your darndness to evade the blind folded Tom, who by the ways was insanely horrible at the game.

He was so bad, Olivia, like the mom she was, had to keep reminding him he could call out Marco, so that you lot could call out Polo and give some semblance as to where you were in the Emma's largish flat.

"Babes," Olivia calls, beginning to remind the lost puppy, Tom.

Elbow pushing the massive block of doofus (Matt), who was CHEATING by using you as his shield from the nearing lost, blonde boy, you struggled against the man, both of you fairing horribly to hold in your giggles as you push deeper into the corner of the room, trapped behind the sofa.

Tom turns behind him, blindfold on and all, at the sound of Olivia's voice.

"You can call out Marco," Olivia reminds before going back to a conversation with Phia safely a distance away in the kitchen.

"Oh-right- MARCO!"

"POLO!" everyone screams except you and Matt.

"THEY'RE CHEATING!" Fabien calls loudly in protests from behind the dining table, "TOM, TURN AROUND! TOM, TURN AROUND!"

Fabien's plan backfires as Tom instead heads for him. The former runs over to where Ewan was, who then runs over to where Emily was, by the front door.

"POLO YOU CUNTS!" Fabien shouts with a chuckle, extending his arm out to your direction, accusingly.

You stick out your tongue to Fabien as Matt begins to shove you the opposite direction.

Ewan to Fabien's side drops his jaw over the brunutte's backfired attempt in both a 'STFU' manner and 'this is kind of funny but STFU' manner, then slaps his hand on Fabian's blabbermouth.

Tom was nearing them. Emily begins to push back against Ewan, covering her mouth as not to make a sound. This allowed you to climb from the back of the sofa, onto the cushions, escaping the entrapment in the corner with Matt.

Emily topples onto Ewan and holds her breath as she barely dodges Tom's reaching hands.

And then-

"POLO! POLO! POLOLOLOL!" Matt screams, grabbing you by the shoulders, alerting everyone in the room.

Tom takes the bait, turning about as you squeal and wrangle out of Matt's cheating grip.

Emily, Ewan, and Fabien sneakily evade him whilst Tom is distracted.

"MATT YOU FUCKER!" you whine, finally escaping him. You swiftly run past Tom, who almost managed to grab you and make it towards Emma, who was had been sitting in an isolated corner of their flat, drinking a can of pop.

They give you a nod and you look over finding Tom was approaching the corner where you and Matt had been, yet the man was nowhere in sight. Rats, he was good.

Fabien, running towards you out of nowhere, grabs you by your arms and offers you as a sacrifice, "POLO! POLO!"

Tom turns your direction as you shriek.

"YOU CHEATING RAT!" you protest mid arm imprisonment.

Tom, now at his limit, stops then pulls down his blindfold, making everyone groan. The man, who had been it the WHOLE time you have been playing, sighs and places his hands on his hips, "guys, ain't no way I'm this bad at Marco Polo. You lot are double crossing me!"

Everyone gathers over towards Tom in a chorus of laughs and disagreements.

Olivia speaks, "I'm sorry, love, but honestly, this flat isn't that large."

"You just suck," Phia deadpans, making Tom give him a sour look.

Milly crawls from underneath the table she had been hiding from the entire time, "who's it now?

Milly jolts when Matt sneaks up from behind her and screams, "YOU!" The moron evades Milly's incoming punches.

Meanwhile, you have been chasing Fabien across the room, pulling on his hair when you catch him.

Between that point and when you all (mostly you and Milly) began to cry while singing Hello by Adele, another 3(?) bottles of beer was consumed by your person.

This was why when you reached for another bottle, Ewan (who had been watching you the entire time) took the thing from you, "that's mine."

You blink slowly, turning to him as he takes the bottle from you, handing it to Matt, who was cheering Emma and Olivia on as they sung from the top of their lungs. Matt turns to Ewan, taking the bottle from him, "thanks, babe."

You move to take another bottle, and Ewan grabs it again, "that's also mine." This time, he takes a swig of the alcohol when you turn to him.

You grunt, taking another shot at grabbing one of the last two bottles on the table. Before you could even reach out for it though, Tom grabs the two bottles and you watch as he hands the other to Fabien. They clank it together, then sit next to you, unwittingly triggering your tear ducts.

They were so mean. You flat out begin to sob. Each man on the sofa turns to you.

"It's my birthday!" you whine under your breath, tears streaming your face, "I'm being oppressed."

Tom beside you hears your mewls then panics, "hey, hey, what's wrong?"

Ewan ,on you other side, stiffens turning to you, face falling at the sight of your tears.

You choke on your tears as you whine.

"MATT YOU'VE REALLY DONE IT NOW MATE!" Fabien screams after seeing you.

Matt turns to you, as does the singing Emma and Olivia, as well as Phia who was doing background vocals and Emily and Milly who was recording the whole thing.

"Me?!" Matt calls out with a chuckle, "what did I do," he leans towards you, "what's happened, love?"

You ignore them as Emma makes a beeline for you and grabs your hand, "come on babe, boys suck."

Ewan begins to explain the situation to everyone and Fabien calls out, "you want my beer, baby?"

"FUCK YOU FABIEN!"

"What about my beer?" Tom asks.

"S'fine," you mumble as you get in front of the make shift karaoke machine where Olivia then wraps her arms over your shoulders.

"Hey! Why the hostility!" Fabien calls out.

"Because you're ugly mate," Tom sneers, chuckling before he drinks his beer.

Matt says, giggling, "I mean you did make the birthday baby cry."

Fabien's jaw drops, "yeah, yeah, yeah, says the man with no eyebrows."

Tom hollers, throwing his head back in laughter. Ewan snorts under his breath, holding in his laughter.

"Woah, woah, woah," Milly walks over with a camera, "is there a row goin' on 'ere," she points her phone camera to them, "come on," she says in a thick Australian accent, "have at it!"

Fabien exaggeratedly bites his lower lip and flips Milly's cam off.

Meanwhile Phia and Emily are cheering you on as the next song begins to play. The intro has everyone in a frenzy.

You burp as you croak out the first lines of the song, "buHaybe can't you see-- I'm callin'. A guy like you should have a warning, it's dangerous-"

"IM FALLING!" you lot sing out in various keys.

Absolutely feeling yourself with the music, you begin to dance to Britney Spears, doing body rolls against Emma and Olivia.

By the time the chorus hits, you and the girls are dancing and singing to Toxic. You twirl all the way over to the sofa, nearly falling on your way as you tell the yucky boys to join in the festivities.

Yet all it takes is one loud bang on the door to burst everyone's bubble.

"Oh fuck," Emma calls, turning frantically around everyone, shushing them as Emily scrambles to cut the music.

Blissfully unaware of everything, you clumsily continue to dance and hit not one, but two faces (Ewan and Matt's) with your hands.

"Alright, Britney, that's enough of you," Fabien calls, pulling you away from your accidental victims of violence.

"There's something to be said about the fact both of your chins were hit," Milly says under her breath, but both men she was teasing hear her loud and clear, in fact, everyone hears her, which is why Tom wheeze with Phia as Olivia holds back her laughter.

"Oh fuck off," Matt says as Ewan purses his lips and shakes his head.

"At least I can reach the bars in the tube," Ewan rebuts.

"OH! For the jugular!" Emily calls just as Olivia hushes everyone.

Emma comes back with clenched teeth, turning to you, "right, uh... my neighbors say happy birthday, also, shut the fuck up."

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talea456 · 2 years

Text

Thoughts on: Stoick's act of grace

Okay, look, I'm gonna put OFMD in the tags cause this is one of the most beautiful fucking reunions I've ever seen and I want more of this type of reunion between two people who love each other. Like, sure, angst and it's resolution is all fun and stuff, but IDK...maybe I'm just getting old, but I'm tired of all the damn angst. I wanna see grace. I wanna see forgiveness. I wanna see someone's love for the other person override those angry, bitter emotions and see the healing that healthy, safe love can do.

Maybe the reunion couldn't or shouldn't happen on OFMD cause their separation was very early in their relationship versus these two characters who were married and had a baby when she left, but OH MY GOD, is the grace Stoick shows here not the most fucking beautiful thing you've ever seen?? Like, you can see she's spent 20 years going over and over what she'd say if she ever saw him again. She's armored up (emotionally and physically) for a fight. She's ready to be seen as a monster who abandoned her family rather than as a human who made a mistake, didn't know how to fix it, and then convinced herself it'd be better if she just stayed away because of that.

But Stoick. He's a guy who spent 20 years grieving over his (who he thought was) dead wife. He spent 20 years missing her. Probably thinking of her everyday and seeing her in his son and reliving the same fights and heartbreak over and over again. So what he sees here is that second chance. The answer to that never-ending prayer of anyone who has lost someone they love dearly: "If I could only have one more kiss. One more chance to hold them. One more dance with them." So he takes it. He takes that chance to just love her again. Heartbreak, anger, and distrust be damned. His love just overrides them. And that's just fucking beautiful, is it not?

I know this type of stuff can seem unreal to younger folk. Heck, 20 years ago, I would think this was unrealistic. But the thing is, when you live with loss and trauma and pain for 4+ decades of life and then you start to heal from all that pain, you just get tired of it. All that pain is like a used porta-potty sitting out in the sun on a hot day--you don't want to revisit if you don't have to. Sure, justified anger still bubbles up from time to time when you feel rejected or not respected and petty arguments are just a part of life for two strong-willed people, but overall you just want to love and feel loved. To be safe with your person. To rest and be at peace with them. Cause when you start to heal, you start to see that things can be different and that you do get to decide what emotions to focus and act on. Stoick decided to focus on and act out of love, maybe because he had already done some healing between the first and second movies re: his son and his perspective on dragons.

This grace you see in this gif set? This is what comes from a life filled with loss and grief. With regret and deep, bone-aching sorrow. So, when your person (or people) show up and offer a safe place to rest, you can choose to hold on to it like the life-raft that it is. That safe, healing type of love really is strong enough to override any heartbreak or anger--if you have the grace to allow it.

#how to train your dragon #heartbreak and healing #ofmd meta #blackbonnet

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sweetestpieces · 1 year

Text

Pairing: Giantess!Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader

Tags/Warnings: Giantess, Size Difference, brewing romance, fluff(?), idk, first time writing fic

Length: 1.3k

Summary: King Viserys wants a suitor for his daughter Rhaenyra soon. The princess is not so keen on the idea and would rather spend time alone with you. (Part 1? of ???)

Storm’s End was about what you’d imagined it would be. A huge bleak castle that eternally resists the rage of the waters beneath it. You knew King Viserys was adamant about finding his daughter Rhaenyra a suitor soon. But for the life of you, you could not understand why he would look here. The men all looked the same, tall and dark-haired and well-built. They spoke with flowery language as if each of them were singers as well as soldiers. All of them except for two. The Dondarrion lord was the oldest of the group, a man well past his prime with his greying beard and balding head. The other was a young man from the Riverlands, a Blackwood, short and looking like he could barely hold the sword he wore on his hip.

You couldn’t stand the thought of any of them being with the princess. The very thought made you strangely angry. Your rampant imagination was quickly put to rest each time a new man stepped forward. The princess casually glanced in your direction with a sly smile that only you knew. Her eyes would just as quickly return to the next man in line and hear their story, their pitch for marriage.

The princess in her flowing red dress made the Baratheon dais look comically small. The stone chair was clearly not made for someone of her stature. Even sitting she towered over Ser Criston who stood tall beside the dais. The sight of her squeezed into that chair recalled your first memory of meeting the princess.

Just shy of two years ago you were brought in along with a handful of other young women as potential handmaids to the royal house. The princess sat at a table breaking her fast with her father the first time you saw her. You’d heard rumors of the princess’s stature before, tales and stories. But none of them did the reality any semblance of justice. It’s been said that Targaryens are closer to gods than men. You never really understood what that meant until you met the princess. She stood from her seat as you entered, her long flowing silken white gown spreading out on the floor. Two of the girls gasped, another began mumbling a prayer to the Mother, and all you could do was stare. The Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen stood nine feet tall, towering over everything and everyone in the room.

“Ladies, a pleasure for you to join us this morning,” King Viserys stepped forward, opening his arms in a welcome gesture. “This is my daughter Rhaenyra, heir to the Iron Throne. We are eager to meet you this morning. The Red Keep, our home, is so large and busy that it takes nothing short of an army to staff it. I am told that each of you brings some valuable skills to that might assist us in more efficiently running our home. More specifically, you would be in the service of my daughter here.”

The Lord Protector of the Realm, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, first of his name, son of House Targaryen that survived the doom and rode dragons of legend stood right in front of all of you. And yet, no one looked at him. All eyes were on the princess behind him, towering over all with a beauty so radiant no song would ever do her justice.

She looked down at you and smirked. Or at least, you thought she did because in an instant it was gone and her face turned neutral, uninterested, once again.

Your trials as a potential handmaid were rather rough. You were no stranger to mishaps and mistakes, often forgetting tasks or mishandling running baths for the princess. You thought certainly you would not earn the position and have to return to your meager farmhouse in the Riverlands where your father worked you to exhaustion tending to the animals.

You were met with immense surprise upon hearing that you’d been asked for specifically by the princess. You met her in her bedchambers after your selection. She was standing by the open window overlooking the Blackwater when you arrived. She somehow seemed even larger than before, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited for her acknowledgment. “I’m so pleased you accepted the offer.” She finally turned to face you, and began walking toward you. “Would you mind fetching me some fruit from the kitchen?”

You’d almost forgotten yourself. “As it pleases you, my lady.”

Over weeks you began with simple tasks of running bath water, helping clothe the princess, fetching food, and tending to visitors. The princess offered you little in terms of conversation as you found her to be rather quiet, not shy by any means, but definitely a woman of very few words. She often spoke with her eyes, giving the most subtle signs of approval and disapproval that you began to pick up on.

Even after months in her service, you never became accustomed to her stature. Each time you saw her was like seeing her for the first time again. When she walked with the tallest and most gallant knights, she made them look the size of children. Some seats in the keep were specifically designed to accommodate her size, though very few of the doorways were high enough for her to pass through without ducking.

You being barely waist high to her frequently required a stepstool to fix her hair or properly fit her dresses. It was during these times that she spoke to you the most. As you stood behind her fitting a jeweled tiara onto her head she asked your opinion on her father, her uncle Daemon, political matters, and what lord you thought might make a good husband.

Even to you, the bond you were forming during these times was not obvious, but it did help alleviate some of the tension whenever you were in a room with her.

Your thoughts of past times with the princess are shattered as the sound of a sword being drawn echoes throughout the Round Hall. The Blackwood boy had drawn his sword and was facing the Bracken lord. The princess stood soon after and strided around the crowd followed closely by Ser Criston. “Come, Y/N,” she said as she walked past you.

There was the sound of swords clashing and then a pained cry. Rhaenyra did not pause to see the result of the fight.

You overheard the princess arguing with her father some days later after your return to King’s Landing. You did your best to not intentionally listen, but their voices carried down the corridor just outside the princess’s bedchambers. “Marriage is necessary, Rhaenyra. The future of our house rests on you and you alone.”

“I understand that, father. Don’t you want me to find a man that is not only suitable but one that I take a liking to? Those storm lords are little more than well-dressed soldiers. Not lovers, not husbands, not fathers. All they know is how to fight and die.”

Their argument carried on for another hour as they fought back and forth over the topic, the king constantly bringing up other highborn men as possibilities. Rhaenyra eventually had heard enough and stormed out of his solar and into her chambers. She shut the door behind her and slid to the floor in tears. This was the first time you’d seen her cry in earnest. You approached her cautiously. “My lady, are you alright?”

“Fine, Y/N. I’m fine.” She wiped the tears away. It was strange seeing something so large appear so vulnerable. You placed a hand on her shoulder and she looked at you. Her lilac eyes piercing you. She leaned her head against your shoulder and began crying even harder. Her larger hands found your lower back and pulled you in closer as she wept.

#rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra x y/n #giantess #size #size fic #giantess fic #g/t #fanfic #romance #fluff #hotd fic #g/t fiction #g/t fluff

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youn9racha · 2 years

Text

Outta My Mind

TW// FLASHING/FLICKERING LIGHTS

pairing: coworker!hyunjin x coworker/manager!reader

genre: smut

synopsis: you and hyunjin don't know much about each other and just work together. but what neither of you knew is that you two have a very passionate infatuation with each other... will either of you ever face each other and tell?

warning: reader uses ms. but no gender is mentioned, blowjobs, seungmin is annoyed by reader and hyunjin, strangers to lover kinda, public teasing kinda, sub!hyunjin, soft dom!reader, praise kink, handjob, implied!perv hyunjin and reader, slight cum play, open ended ending, also this is lowkey porn without plot.

words: 3.0k

a/n: hell yeah another sub!skz porn 👹👹idk if you could tell but im obsessed lmfaoo. anyways, i made this as a filler for my felix fic (idk why my felix fics never finish 😭😭😭) so yeh, that why it seemed a lil rushed but idgaf because hyunjin is so cute here <333 hope y'all enjoyed it.

also tagging both @lix-ables and @h0neydewmoon because i showed this as a preview 👹👹👹

This is no way representative of the way Stray Kids act. They’re nothing but references of character, and in no shape or form is this how they act. And I am in no way romanticizing or glamorizing any toxic behavior exhibited, they’re just stories that is meant to be read. Readers discretion is advised.

Hyunjin was hooked.

He was hooked on you as he sees you from across the room. You were there standing with your co-worker, laughing at whatever funny remark he had uttered from his lips. Despite the charms the co-worker was exhibiting, you would eye Hyunjin occasionally, showcasing your alluring eyes and smile, resulting in him blushing and looking away from you.

You two were not close by any means, just mere coworkers, but to say Hyunjin has a crush on you would be an understatement. Every time you walk past him, he couldn’t help himself and eye you up and down, taking in all your beauty. He hates to admit it, but he envies the tight clothes you would wear, and how much he could just rip them off you and he would have his large slender hands and kisses cover your entire nude body. His fantasies of you were nowhere near innocent, and the way you were eyeing him earlier surely didn’t help. Your bedroom eyes just exhilarated Hyunjin’s perverted mind, hence why he turned into a tomato and looked down.

You couldn’t help but sniffle out a laugh, enjoying the reaction of the pretty coworker of yours who is infatuated with you. You genuinely enjoyed teasing Hyunjin, if anything you weren’t any better when it comes to your fantasies of Hyunjin, you see how he is very good-looking and charming, very kind to others, and very sweet to you. He almost seemed submissive to you, with the way he was obedient to everyone, especially to you, you couldn’t help but want to take him in and have his head between you—

“Hello? Earth to (y/n)?!”

Your zoned-out state was interrupted by Seungmin, your coworker and friend, calling you out as he snaps his fingers by your head and waved his hand in front of you. You shook your head as you looked back at Seungmin before taking a quick glance at Hyunjin. When he sees you doing that, Seungmin looked back at Hyunjin before back at you with an eye roll, “seriously?! You’re still going at that Hwang guy?! When will you just fuck him and get him on a date already?! You’ve been undressing him with your eyes for a bit now!”

You shushed him as you smacked your friend’s arm, “shh, don’t expose me!” you gritted your teeth as you whispered, “and I will, in fact,” you paused as you picked up your cooled-down coffee cup from, “I’m going up to him right now…” you said with a teasing smile, a smile Seungmin is oh so familiar of, shown by his grimacing face.

“Oh, god, (y/n)—”

“Cover for me, will you?” You begged your friend, who was shaking his head at you with an annoyed expression. “Ugh, fine, but do it somewhere that isn’t here, I’ll make up something for the two of you.”

You smiled at Seungmin before kissing him on his cheek, which made him groan as he pushed you and flipped you off before wiping your kiss away. You walked away from Seungmin with your cup in hand and Hyunjin sees you approaching him from his peripheral view. He felt his heart pumping at a rapid speed, his cold body began warming up to the point of sweating, and his hand that was on the mouse clutched slightly harder than before. You arrived at Hyunjin’s cubical as you leaned against the partition, your hip was placed by the edge of his table while the palm of your hand was placed on the table and the other is still holding the coffee.

“Hey, Hyunjin!” you beam, which made Hyunjin look up at you with doe eyes, slightly surprising him that you came up to him of all people. You did hold a higher position than Hyunjin, so he was taken aback that you were interacting with him in this fashion outside of a meeting room—even though you two practically stare at each other with both admiration and wanton fashion.

“Uh, hey, Ms. (l/n), is there anything you need?” Hyunjin responded with obedience, smiling up at you. He truly was much prettier up close, you thought to yourself, his full plump lips, his glowing skin, his adorable mole under his eye, his perfectly straight teeth, truly God took his time making his face. And he even has the nicest speaking voice, which drove you even more on edge as you’re curious about how he sounds like when you’re on top of him.

“No, I don’t need anything, I just came by to ask you if you wanna join me for lunch?” You asked, trying to maintain your lustful gaze hidden from him, meanwhile, Hyunjin’s eyes gleamed in excitement as his beloved finally asked him out. He smiled before it dropped instantly as he realized that he still has a lot of work. So, he sighed as he looked back at the computer before going back at you.

“I would love to go out, but unfortunately, I have a lot—” His words were cut off as he suddenly saw the cup that was in your hand drop and landed straight on his legs, the stain emphasized right on his thighs and crouch. You two gasped at the sudden action, with Hyunjin frozen in his place as he felt him feeling embarrassed in front of you for his awkward stain. Luckily, the coffee wasn’t so hot that he got burned, but it was warm, making an interesting sensation in his legs.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, Hyunjin,” you apologized as you got a tissue and got down on your knees as you began wiping Hyunjin’s upper legs. Hyunjin only looked down with a blush at the compromising position you two put yourselves in, it was a good thing that the office was mostly empty, with just those two, Seungmin—who was suffering and cringing on the other side of the room as he witnesses what was happening before going back at his monitor—and some other employees who weren’t near the premises.

His head went wild as the tissue hand rubbed against his thighs at an interesting speed. From his point of view, he could only see the top of your head in between his thighs as you continued rubbing his legs. He could only wish he could pull up his cock and make you suck on it, but the last thing he wants to do is make you feel uncomfortable and make you hate him. Meanwhile, you’re planning on teasing Hyunjin was slowly working as you saw his flustered and stiff reaction, especially with how you were touching his wet legs that were slowly cooling thanks to the air conditioning.

Hyunjin bit his lips as he sensed your hand getting closer to his cock, fearing that you were going to start rubbing him, so he held your hand, feeling himself getting lightheaded from the tension and the way you looked up at him from below.

“Um, thank you, Ms. (l/n), I really appreciate your help,” Hyunjin slowly spoke, gulping at the sight of you smiling. “Anything for you, Hyunjin,” you got up from the floor, his eyes following you, “call me (y/n) by the way.”

You then turned and walked away from him, which left him flabbergasted at the way you got him in his head, making him think unholy thoughts and how he nearly threw away that opportunity. He exhaled as he looked at the monitor then you’re walking figure that is almost leaving the premises, before going back at his monitor.

He shook his head as he sighs through his nose, “fuck this,” he muttered as he shuts down his monitor and gathers his stuff, and ran out. All the while this was happening, Seungmin was looking at you walking away with a smirk, and then at a hurried Hyunjin followed pursuit, making him shake his head at his monitor as he muttered to himself, “what a bunch of freaks…”

As you walked away from the building, you suddenly heard running footsteps from behind, making you turn around to see who was running, only to see the long-haired beauty from the office running up to you. Hyunjin ran up to you before he pins you against the brick walls and kisses you with full fiery intent. Just like how you imagined, his lips were very soft and moisturized, well taken care of lips that are filled with lust and passion that is for sure, especially when added with a tongue that wants to tie with yours. You opened your mouth as you wanted to taste more of Hyunjin, but he pulled away, both of you panted as you were trying to catch some air.

You were holding onto his collar while his hands were on your waist while your foreheads were attached. He looked up at you, his gaze eerily striking a resemblance to yours, dark and lustful.

“Your place…or mine?” He whispered against your lips as his breath from his nose tickles your philtrum.

You could only smile back at him.

“Do you live far?”

---

You two decided on your place since the distance between your workplace and his house was longer than yours did, but regardless, neither of you was off each other, and it amplified as you got into your house.

As soon as you opened the door, he slammed the door shut as he carried you onto the wall and began attaching his mouth to yours, placing his thigh in between your legs. His lips began attacking your neck as he unbuttoned the first few buttons of your blouse, nipping the soft exposed skin. He pulled away from you to ask you where your bedroom was, and you pulled him by the collar so he could follow you.

Once you two reached the bedroom, you pushed Hyunjin into the bed, making his back hit the mattress, as you began straddling his lap and leaned down to kiss his lips and jaw. His face still had the flush from his workplace, his already plump lips has reddened and swollen further, and his neat hair became disheveled from your hand running and gripping it from time to time. You began unbuttoning his shirt, before removing it completely and throwing it across the room.

His chest was shiny and pale, he wasn’t the most athletically built but you knew he had tremendous strength despite his delicate face and waist. You got off of him while he lays in bed with a pout forming on his lips, disappointed that you got off of him. You took your finger and began placing it on his lips as you ran it against the soft skin before dragging it down, tugging it slightly on the way. Your finger ran across the center of his figure, from his chin, his neck, to his pectorals, and down to the waistband of his dress pants.

When you began gripping his waistband, you see his hips begin bucking slightly, almost as a silent cry for you to take his soiled, tight pants off him. You look down at the stain you spilled earlier, seeing it dried but this time it came with a new addition, a bulge formed from underneath the fabric, the stain almost making an emphasis on the erection. You couldn’t help but smirk as you let go of the waistband and began grabbing the bulge. Hyunjin gasped as your hand began groping and stroking his cock against the tight fabric.

“Please… take them off…” Hyunjin pleaded in a hush manner, but it seems you had other plans. You let go of his clothed cock before you began stripping in front of him. You saw his hand going down to remove his restraining pants, only for you to slap it away from him, which made him furrow his brows at you with a pout. You almost enjoyed the sight of Hyunjin not getting what he wanted, seeing him want to do things but you stop him from moving truly does things to you because, despite his protest and his pouts, he is always obedient, always has you in his mind and wouldn’t dare want you to hate him.

Once you were fully bare, you got on his lap once again and began kissing his jaw and his neck. “You’re such a good boy, you know that?” you hushed as you kiss his sensitive spot, making him purr slightly at the feeling of you kissing and licking the spot on his neck. You got even lower, and the lower you more strings of compliments go his way.

“So obedient… so pretty… so beautiful… so handsome…”

And all Hyunjin could do is let those words sink deep into his pores, his stomach feeling warm and good. His eyes shut with a smile as the more praises you gave him, making him in a state of glee. For a while now, he has been envisioning stuff like this; you are on top of him, praising him and making him feel good, that’s all he needed really. While his mind is on his dream world, he didn’t realize that you practically took off his pants and exposed his cock to you. Your eyes widened at the size of him, it's not that you expected him to be small—which still would’ve not elicited a negative reaction from you if he didn’t have the size he has now—but you didn’t expect him to carry a large one.

“Wow,” you astonished with a smile, which made Hyunjin snap out of his dream state and look down at you. He smiled shyly as he blushed even further and looked away as you said, “had I known you had this pretty cock, I would’ve done this a long time ago…”

Truly, you knew how to make a man blush with your words. Hyunjin chuckled as he lets out a tiny “thank you,” feeling even more cherished. You smiled sweetly at him, but your gaze and hand contradicted it as your hand wrapped itself around his cock and began moving it, making Hyunjin shudder a gasp, with his mouth forming an o.

You moaned along with him to encourage him to make more noises while your strokes increased speed. Your other hand began massaging his balls, making him whine even more with his hips quivering at the overwhelming feeling.

“You make such cute noises, Hyunjin… you can be louder if you want,” despite your sweet encouragement, you still sensed him holding back his noises, so you had to take it into your own hands—no pun intended. Suddenly, Hyunjin sensed something tight, warm and wet surrounding his sensitive cock, making him release a high-pitched groan, his neck and back arched at the sudden feeling. He looked down and sees the top of your head bobbing up and down his cock before he threw his head back up and his hands gripping the sheets underneath him, ultimately turning into a moaning mess.

He feels the knots in his stomach getting hotter and tighter, especially with the way his cock twitched inside your hollowed cheeks, and his moans increased in volume. You released your mouth from his cock as your hand began stroking fasting, your fingers pinching the tip from time to time as you began your encouraging calls through his moans.

“Yes, yes, yes, Hyunjin, go on, go ahead and come on my hand… be a good boy and come on my hand,”

And right on command, Hyunjin began yelping out a loud and long-lasting moan as his cock leaks out thick, white content, landing on his stomach, your hands, and the sheets underneath. All the while he was coming, you carried on praising and cheering for him while his mind is all foggy as he focuses on his orgasm and your hands.

“You’re such a good boy… I’m proud of you,” Hyunjin’s eyes were closed so he could only hear your praise. He didn’t see your menacing smirk, he didn’t see you licking his cum off your hand, he didn’t even see you getting on top, he could just feel you on top of him.

As he was getting his breath together, he fluttered his eyes open, seeing you above him with a smile. He smiled back at you before looking down and seeing the mess he created on himself. He cursed himself for letting himself come so fast, but you held his face and began kissing his lips again. He tasted a very faint salty yet sweet taste on your tongue when he opened his mouth, it registered that you were making him taste himself, which got him hard almost instantly once again.

You sensed his cock hitting your thigh once again, making you chuckle against his mouth, and pulled away, “it seems to me that someone is ready for me… is that right?”

Your maternal voice got Hyunjin hard, especially shown with the way he nodded like a pup with his eyes gleamed in submissiveness. You kissed him one more time, only for Hyunjin to flip you and make you lay on your back and he lays between your legs, his cock hitting your clit and you gasp at his sudden actions.

“Please let me take care of you… can I?” Hyunjin asked, his eyes looking for any acceptance and affirmation. You could only smile at him and nodded, which got him all excited.

For a while now, he has been obsessed with you. He has always been thinking of you, the way you spoke to him with such an authoritative yet polite way of interacting, the way you wore your dress work, and the way it hugged your figure so beautifully, you were just the perfect image of someone in his mind. Day in and day out, he has been thinking about it, and little does he know that you feel the same way. Seungmin often gets tired of you going on and on about this “Hwang guy,” and just hope you two would go over it and start fucking at least. Neither of you would have expected you two would be in this situation, but you were glad something occurred.

Otherwise, neither of you would forgive yourselves as you trapped each other in your minds, making it difficult to get either of you out of you two’s minds.

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