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itsgameofthronesimagines · 2 years ago

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Hello, could you write about Daemon x Fem!Reader? Could you base it on Two Birds by Regina Spektor? Daemon and the reader are friends and little by little they fall in love, but the reader has always been in delicate health and little by little he dies, but not before getting in a relationship with Daemon. I'm looking forward to reading something sad and sweet. Thanks 🥺

(Gif not mine)

Title: Two Birds

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,783

Warnings: Fluff, illness, angst, blood, death, murder. Edit: I forgot to mention Daemon's vulgar language. Whoops.

Summary: Daemon never believed his oldest friend, Y/n was sick. Until one day he’s forced to acknowledge its existence.

A/N: How dare you request one of my favorite songs. Get ready for some angst y'all because this song was the only thing I listened to while writing this 😈

(I do not consent for my works to be reposted/copied)

Two birds on a wire One tries to fly away And the other watches him close from that wire He says he wants to as well But he is a liar

“Ao gīmigon, ziry iksos dangerous naejot geron mērī mijegon iā escort.”

[You know, it’s dangerous for you to walk alone without an escort.]

Y/n looks up from her book, marking her spot in one hand while brushing the hair out of her face with the other. The gardens are emptier than before she had sat down to read, and now it was only her and the Targaryen prince standing over her. Daemon’s shadow towered Y/n, blocking the sunlight from warming her usual sickly skin. He had his long, silver hair pinned behind his ears and his arms folded behind him as he raised a curious eyebrow.

Sighing, the fair lady closes her book completely and stands, “You know I don’t speak Valyrian so why must you speak to me in a language I don’t understand?”

“In the hopes that you’ll learn it one day,” he grinned, unfolding his arms and offering one to her, “Let us begin. Uēpa raqiros.”

“Uēpa raqiros,” her accent is flat for the time being, but her pronunciation was good. Y/n loops her arm around Daemon’s and he leads the both of them down the path of the gardens, “I recognize ‘friend’ but not the other word.”

“‘Old friend.’“

“I’m not that old,” she scrunched her nose up.

“I never said you were my friend,” Daemon smirked but quickly reverted to laughter when the lady hit his shoulder with the broad side of her book. She huffs, unlocking their arms and walking ahead of the prince in a flurry of skirts.

“If you were only seeking my presence to mock me, you have succeeded and are free to leave me now,” Y/n scolds, despite not having much heat behind her words. She knew her friend well enough to know that he only ever teased her to get a rise.

“I actually came to see if you wanted to fly on Caraxes later this evening,” Daemon caught up to Y/n without ever quickening his pace, playfully bumping shoulders with her as they walked side by side, “It’s a beautiful day and you could use some fresh air and not this... pile of shit King’s Landing calls 'air.'”

She hums, closing her eyes to briefly take in the warmth of the sun. The maesters have said time and time again that she would be healthier if she were to spend her days outside, taking in the sun and the air as her medicine. But no matter how many times she insists, they don’t believe she ever listens. Y/n nearly spends her whole days outside, and yet the maesters doubt she ever steps foot outside the castle. Today was a day she felt a little faint, and so the idea of getting on the back of a dragon terrified her.

“I best not,” she sighs, a little downtrodden, “Maester says I shouldn’t be doing any ‘exciting’ movements today.”

Daemon scowls, “The maesters wouldn’t know how to pull a thorn out of a toe even if the pliers sat right beside them. No one can decide what’s best for you other than you, Y/n.”

Her footsteps stop and so Daemon is also forced to do so. He sighs, regretting the words the moment they left his lips. He turns back to his friend, but the lady only offers a sad attempt of a smile, “You may do as you please, my prince. But I cannot. All my life, men have decided what’s best for me and they shall do so for the rest of my life as well... no matter how short of a life it might be.”

“Don’t,” Daemon shakes his head, immediately sporting a wide smile and quickly grabbing Y/n’s arm to continue their walk, “It’ll be a long life. A good life. No more talk of... whatever thoughts plague you. Whoever told you such things is a cunt.”

Y/n snorts, amused, and decides to drop the subject for her friend’s sake. No matter what she says, she can’t force Daemon to picture her as a sickly girl. He’s never believed it and continues to believe that she’ll live longer than even his little niece. Once upon a time, Y/n thought Daemon refused to acknowledge her health because he lost his parents at such a young age, but now she wondered if he was just mad enough to actually believe she was a picture of health.

They take a short ride to the Dragonpit after Y/n promised to watch Daemon fly off. As he mounts Caraxes, Y/n stood close with a mischievous smile on her lips, “Where will you go this time? Perhaps to finally be with your lady wife?”

The instant disgust that twists into Daemon’s expression forces her into a fit of laughter that quickly leads to harsh coughing, but she grins despite gasping for air. She tilts her head back up to smile at Daemon and he relents once he caught onto the joke.

“The day I go to be with my lady wife is the day I am to bury her in the dirt,” Daemon spat, glancing up at the sky and then back down to his friend, “Umbagon syt nyke, uēpa raqiros.”

[Wait for me, old friend.]

Y/n nods, recognizing that small phrase as one he often said to her, and remembers the proper response he taught her, “Hae bōsa hae mazēza.”

[As long as it takes.]

He grins and then orders his dragon to fly. Caraxes takes off, leaving a gust of wind behind that nearly knocks Y/n off her feet when she had moved to be at a safe distance. She smiles to herself while watching the two fly away until they’re a speck in the sky, imagining what it must feel like up there. She wished she accepted his invitation, but a part of her knows how frail her heart can be. If she were to fly up to the sky, she may not ever come back down.

~~~~~~~~~

Two birds on a wire One says c'mon and the other says "I'm tired" The sky is overcast and I'm sorry One more or one less Nobody's worried

She finds herself in the Dragonpit again, waiting to see Daemon off once more, only this time, she worries that she might not see him for a while. Viserys has chosen Rhaenyra as his heir after the death of his wife, and now Daemon is exiled to Dragonstone or until he finally consummates his marriage to Lady Royce. If Daemon was angry, he didn’t show it, but Y/n knew her friend, and she knew that Daemon often showed his anger in violent actions and often never showed what his next move would be on his face. A storm is brewing behind those eyes, but no one is aware of it other than his oldest friend.

He approached her as he was just about ready to leave and Y/n tries to talk to keep the silence at bay, “It will be good for you. Dragonstone is your ancestral home and you’ll be better off governing a small keep over a large kingdom. This is something new and exciting. It should keep you occupied.”

“I don’t need to be entertained like a spoiled, bored child,” Daemon sneered, though it wasn’t nearly as hateful, the last of the sentence dying on his tongue when he remembered who he was talking to. He lowers his gaze, regrettably, “At least not whenever someone as competent as you is around. You can come with me, Y/n.”

“And anger my father?”

“He’s an arse--”

“--Who is my father.”

“He’s a drunken fool. You needn’t listen to a drunk who won’t remember your arguments come the morrow.”

Y/n laughs softly under her breath, shaking her head at the ground before glancing back up at Daemon. The Rogue Prince softens his gaze, stepping closer and leaning his head down further to her height, eyes near pleading, “Come with me. There’s fresh air in Dragonstone.”

Her eyebrows droop, pity in her eyes as her mouth opens and closes to try and form the best rejection. Instead, only a weak response is let out in the form of a whisper, “I’m tired, Daemon.”

His jaw visibly tightens but he doesn’t say another word. His gaze hardens but he doesn’t look disgusted or angry, just disappointed. It’s not as though he should be surprised by her answer. Nothing had changed since the last time he asked. He may be a dragon, but Y/n is a flightless bird. Daemon turns and without looking back, climbs up onto Caraxes’ saddle, only looking up at the sky ahead of them.

“Umbagon syt nyke, uēpa raqiros.”

Daemon nearly falls off his saddle when the words he usually speaks are thrown back at him. Surprised, he looks down at Y/n and merely nods his head, automatically responding without thought, “Hae bōsa hae mazēza.”

Y/n smiles, blinking back a tear as she instinctively backs up. When Daemon takes flight again, she doesn’t watch him leave. Instead, she walks out of the Dragonpit, with the heavy thought of never needing to go back there again.

~~~~~~~~~

Two birds of a feather Say that they're always gonna stay together But one's never going to let go of that wire He says that he will But he's just a liar

Years pass and Daemon only gets one brief interaction with Y/n when he comes back to the Capitol as King of the Stepstones, hair cut and framing a crown. Unfortunately, he’s exiled again that very same day, and he’s gone before Y/n was even aware of his departure.

Their next interaction, however, lasts longer. Ser Laenor and Princess Rhaenyra’s wedding ceremony rolls around and no one expected Daemon to show. But he did, and it didn’t take long for him to corner his old friend with two wine goblets in hand.

“Still not into dancing?” He grins while offering a cup to her.

Y/n is a little timid but doesn’t turn away the drink. She swirls the wine and watches the liquid dance before looking up and sporting an amused grin, “Nyke jorrāelagon ziry. Yn ziry iksos se maesters qilōni pendagon ziry tolī exhausting va ñuha rytsāri.”

[I love it. But it’s the maesters who believe it’s exhausting for my health.]

Daemon’s eyes widened a fraction before his own smile spreads in delight, “Impressive.��

“Rhaenyra’s always been the better teacher,” her smirk makes an appearance before disappearing behind the lip of her cup, eyes twinkling as she watches Daemon's expression while she took a sip. He rolls his eyes, and for a moment they’re young again and close friends who roam the gardens together. Y/n thumps his shoulder lightly, “Admit it. You never had the patience to teach me anything.”

“I never had the patience for you to finally listen to my teachings,” he gripes back.

The words sting, but Y/n doesn’t let it show, gulping down her wine and looking out onto the dancefloor, “I’m sorry to hear about Lady Royce. Terrible to die doing the thing you’re best skilled at.”

“Indeed. I shall mourn her as any widowed husband should.”

“How? With celebration?” Daemon looks back and catches the knowing twinkle in her eye as she scoffs, “You don’t need to fool anyone, my prince. Especially me.”

He lets his smile grow under her trust, watching the dancing crowd alongside her as she comments, “I suppose a place such as this is a good place to start looking for a new wife. Lady Westerling is the one in yellow over there, and of course, Laena Velaryon is hard to miss. Lyonel Strong has two daughters, I believe. They should be around.”

Daemon inspects the women in question as he asks his own, “And what about you?”

She glances back at him, “What about me?”

He looks back at her, “Have you no husband?”

Y/n paused any quips from leaving her lips, lowering her goblet and reminding herself to breathe. Slowly, she looked away, “I’m not fit for marriage, Daemon. Even my father says so.”

“Fuck that,” the Rogue Prince growled, leaning into her space so that she can hear him over the cheers and laughter, “You’re the most comely lady in this room. Any man with more brains than balls would want to marry the family friend of the crown. My brother looks at you and sees a younger sister, someone he’s known her whole life. Anyone who wants his good graces would marry you.”

Y/n huffs in amusement, “I would not make a good wife and I would not live long enough to be a good mother.”

“Y/n,” she nearly loses her footing when Daemon grabbed both of her arms and forced her to face him, glaring into her very soul with angry passion, “Shut up. Stop thinking about all those things the maesters told you for just one second and think about you. You’re miserable here. King’s Landing is no place for someone who can barely breathe. It’s full of shit and crowds and the summers are unbearable. You would not be sick if you were to come to Dragonstone. There’s wind and rain and grass... one day you’ll wake up and realize you haven’t felt ill in ages. I want you to come home with me. I need you to.”

“Daemon--”

“Avy jorrāelan, ñuha hontes.”

[I love you, my bird.]

Y/n’s eyes widen, her heart skipping a beat as her mind calculates the foreign words. Doubtful, she swallows to wet her dry throat, “... I don’t know what that means.”

Daemon straightens his back, towering over her again but didn’t let go of her arms, “Yes you do.”

Her shoulders slump, trying to come up with a proper excuse that wouldn’t break either of their hearts, “You have no idea what you’re asking.”

“I’m not asking, I’m proposing,” one of his hands moves down her arm, sending shivers down her back as his hand finds hers. He lifts her hand until it’s placed flat on his chest, adjusting it to sit over his heart, his free hand gently pinching her chin to keep their eyes locked together, “Marry me, Y/n. Imagine all that we once had returned in tenfold. No one could tell us what to do. We’ll be free. Kesan dōrī drējī sagon dāez ēva ao sōvegon lēda nyke.”

[I’ll never truly be free until you fly with me.]

Her heart leaps and for a moment, she thought it had lept from her throat and flown off. She couldn’t deny how much she had missed and longed for Daemon in the years they’d been apart, and she was glad that the feeling of loss was mutual. But a part of her brain reminded her that she was still a sickly girl and she was only going to get worse. Despite Daemon’s promise of fresh air in Dragonstone, there’s no guarantee she’ll live long enough to enjoy it as much as he does.

“I won’t be a good wife, Daemon. I cannot give you children.”

“Who cares? I don’t want children. I don’t need children. I need you,” he steps even closer to her, “Just you.”

Whatever answer she gave him is drowned out by the screams of terror and the sound of fists meeting flesh. In the chaos of Joffrey Lonmouth’s murder, everyone is too distracted to catch Daemon Targaryen slipping away with Lady Y/n. It wasn’t until morning did people notice the pair’s absence, and by then, the couple had found a septon to marry them, binding them as one before anyone could object.

~~~~~~~~~

Two birds on a wire One tries to fly away and the other Watches him close from that wire He says he wants to as well, but he is a liar

Dragonstone was everything Daemon said it would be and more. Y/n had only been there once before after Queen Aemma passed away but now as she lived there to watch the seasons pass, she could see why her husband spoke highly of his ancestral home. In celebration of their marriage, they flew to Dragonstone on the back of Caraxes. It was the first time Y/n ever flew on dragonback and yet again, Daemon was right. She had never felt freer.

Unfortunately, she began aggressively coughing once they reached their destination, and she was embarrassed to have ruined the mood. But Daemon wasn’t bothered. He confidently stated that soon enough the fresh air will cure her and she’ll never have to worry about it again.

And for a while, it did. She took it easy at first and slowly noticed the effects of Daemon’s ‘medicine’ positively affecting her. Y/n began to swim in the ocean, jumping from high cliffs and splashing into the sea. She ran through the fields of long grass aligning her small island of paradise, picking up flowers and smelling their sweet aroma. And best of all, she clung to her husband as they flew above the clouds, basking in the heat of Caraxes' fire when he roared and chirped. Y/n, for the first time, did things that she thought she would never be able to do in her lifetime. She was better and healthier than ever.

Until winter came.

Her sickness came back and in full force, worse than it’s ever been before. She became so dizzy that she could barely stand. Her coughing fits would get so terrible, she would cough up blood. She could barely eat or drink, until finally, she was forced to remain in her bed, day and night, and could only move about her room with the help of another.

The maesters in Dragonstone concur with the ones back in King’s Landing and in the Citadel. They have all seen this before in all sorts of illnesses. The patient would always get better before the sickness got worse. And most times, it was fatal.

Daemon cut off the hand of the maester who told him to prepare for the worst and say his goodbyes before it was too late. Instead of listening, Daemon acted as though nothing was wrong. He spent most of his days in his wife’s room as well, talking normally, speaking of certain subjects only she would know. He never once mentioned her sickness and blatantly ignored it at times... except when Y/n would start a coughing fit. Those were the times Daemon would acknowledge it. He always tended to her, either offering her a handkerchief or a cup of water or rubbing her back. If Y/n wasn’t so occupied with her illness, she would have seen a window of vulnerability on her husband’s face whenever she had to stop talking to cough until her eyes were wet with tears.

One morning, Y/n was too weak to even sit up in bed. She had spent the entire night coughing and wheezing, she couldn’t even sleep for an hour. She had lost all color in her face and her hair was damp with sweat, a small basin filled with her blood and stomach contents sat on the floor beside her bed. Daemon was awake with her the whole night, at her side, only occasionally drifting off before moving into action when Y/n’s coughs would start up again.

Her throat is raw and her voice is quiet, her tone nothing like her own. It was like rock scrapping against rock and nothing like her usual, angelic voice. She barely spoke, but when she did, it was always optimistic. It was almost as though she believed Daemon’s former confidence in her.

“I’ll be alright,” she would whisper, coughing into her handkerchief, “It’s as... you said. I’ll get better when spring comes... comes back. It’s my first winter here. I just need to get used to... it.”

Daemon carefully watches her in response, never saying a word. It was chilling to hear his wife repeat his words back to him as if they had switched personalities. He wasn’t sure if she only spoke in confidence to reassure him, or if she had become delusional in her illness and she truly believed she would heal.

“I want to go see Cara-- Caraxes tomorrow,” she told him, barely hanging onto Daemon’s hand as she lay in bed that fateful morning. She was staring up at the ceiling, although her eyes appeared glassy and far away, “We’ll go flying. We’ll fly across the Narrow Sea until we reach Essos--”

Her coughs start and her body convulses as she spits out scarlet red. Daemon quickly helps her lay on her side so she wouldn’t choke on her own blood, assisting in rubbing her back and pushing loose hairs out of her face. Y/n’s whole body shakes uncontrollably and nothing can be heard outside of her coughs.

Daemon feels sick, clenching his jaw while trying to focus on something to do other than the coughing. He can’t find the right words to say, for once, and he was fighting an internal war with words that won’t come out. Every instinct is telling him to run, fly, and try to get as far away from Dragonstone as soon as possible. His adult self wanted to protect his inner child from the horrors of death, wanting to shield himself from the pain he felt when he lost his parents or his cousin Aemma. Watching his family members die was horrific for Daemon, as a child, and as a man. He refused to ever let another loved one die in his lifetime, and perhaps that foolish part of him is what really killed Y/n in the end.

Y/n wheezed, despite Daemon’s inner thoughts. She was no longer strong enough to read his thoughts anyway, “I think Rhaenyra is... having a baby soon. Her first. We should... be there for her when the time comes.”

He can only nod, despite Y/n not looking at him. He can’t find it within himself to look at her either, instead watching as his thumb caressed her bare shoulder. Eventually, Y/n’s body relaxes to his touch, humming softly when the tickle in her throat dies down.

“What... what do you think Pentos is like?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes his time rearranging the pillow under her head, tears finally forming in his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~

Two birds on a wire One tries to fly away and the other...

Daemon never took his eyes off the funeral pyre.

Not when Caraxes engulfed it in flames, not when people came to offer their condolences, and not even when everyone had gone back to King’s Landing. He hasn’t spoken a word to anyone, not even to the servant girl who came into Y/n’s room that morning to find her dead and the prince at her side. The girl wasn’t at all surprised, just heartbroken. She didn’t seem to notice the iron grip Daemon had on the bloody pillow in his lap.

Daemon remembered his brother and his niece standing on either side of him, holding onto his hand or his shoulder, but if they ever said anything, he couldn’t remember. Eventually, they left, too, leaving the cold air to surround him in their absence. He had been left alone, watching the flames of his wife’s funeral pyre dance and rise into the sky. His eyes eventually follow the flames and note the dark clouds in the distance, slowly making their way over. In the corner of his eye, Daemon spots two small birds flying overhead, and for whatever reason, they made him smile.

“Umbagon syt nyke, ñuha jorrāelagon...”

[Wait for me, my love...]

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I’m sorry if the Valyrian is not correct. I had to use a translator. I gotta admit, writing Daemon is hard. I love him as a character, but I feel as though I didn’t represent his personality enough. It is my first time writing him, so maybe I just need to get used to it and rewatch House of the Dragon lol. Please interact and support! If you have a request, leave it in my inbox!

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #hotd imagine #house of the dragon imagine #imagine #hotd #house of the dragon #fire and blood #dance of dragons #matt smith #matt smith imagine #matt smith x reader

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macabrecake · 2 years ago

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hey cake - your ideas stuck in my head, so can I request a small blurb with Leon and fem reader, him admiring her as she rides him and he’s absolutely obsessed with it

Deadass giggling and kicking my legs as I read this you have no idea how excited I am for this one cause this idea in particular has stuck with me for SO long! I gotchu bby y'all buckle up I'm going all in. And it's gonna be re6 Leon cause hubby (I've missed him 🥺)

Warning: minors steer clear of this or Saddler will add you to his plaga army.

"Are you sure about this, Leon?"

The question shifts his smirk to a much softer smile, one that he only reserves for you, as he eyes your bare, timid body sitting on top of him. Both of you tucked away together in the comforts of your shared bedroom. He's gotten a break from work before being shipped to Tall Oaks within the week.

And he knows exactly how to spend his free time.

"Trust me, it'll be fun. I promise." The agent reassures while his large hands sweetly stroke and gently squish your plump thighs and hips. The warmth radiating from them offering a welcomed sense of comfort to easily help you relax more. But some doubts still plagued you.

"I know it'll be fun, but..." You trail off quietly, trying to find the words while subconsciously hugging yourself a little tighter. Luckily, Leon is amazing in terms of reading body language. When the idea was previously tossed around- you did worry about a few things. Somehow accidentally hurting him or just the whole experience going south since you've never done this position before.

Yet you're always so eager to please.

He adores that endearing quality about you as he sits up and gently takes hold of your chin so you'll look up at him, and his cheeky little smile. "You always look beautiful beneath me. I can guarantee you're gonna look just as beautiful up here too."

You're unable to fight the small giggle that falls from your lips, or the blush that rises in your cheeks and travels down your neck to your collarbone at Leon's gorgeous voice speaking so sweetly like that.

Practically melting in his lap when you haven't even hopped on his dick yet.

The blonde chuckles before stealing another kiss then softly bumps his nose with yours, your own secret little love language between each other. "We'll go slow, ok?" He says quietly, those deep sky blue eyes holding your gaze with nothing but pure patience and love.

It tells you all you need to know.

Once you give the ok, cause he's a man of consent no matter what, Leon places his hands back on your hips and carefully guides you down onto him. Then...

Paradise.

His deep groan mingles with your soft whimper once he finally bottoms out inside you. The feeling of your heat wrapping around his cock so tight like this was absolutely divine he was almost worried he'd cum right then and there. Leon manages to steel himself however as his head falls back against the pillows with a sharp exhale. His hands suddenly clamping down on your hips a little rougher as he sets a slow pace as promised.

Not that you're complaining at all in the slightest, if anything it pulls another moan from you as your walls twitch and squeeze him more when he starts moving, not realizing any of those delicate spots even existed until now. "Leon.~"

The golden blonde picks his head up to gaze at you, that devilish smirk making a reappearance as he gleefully eyes the blissed out state you're already in. But who could blame you, really? The view you had was pretty damn spectacular as well. Battle scars from the hell he's been dragged through over the years and won every time so he could lay here with you now, cold blue eyes staring at you playfully but still so warm, the fucking washboard abs and pecs. Just Leon Scott Kennedy in all his natural glory. "You ok, honey?" He can't help but tease a little.

Only to snicker when you glance away with a shy smile and bite back a soft mewl, after all this time together and you still get flustered around him. He loves it. But you're hiding from him, thinking he doesn't see the way you hold yourself so your breasts don't bounce or allow yourself to get too loud.

It earns you a soft disapproving sound from Leon as his hands move away from your thighs to take your hands from your chest, intertwining your fingers with his, and holding them down at your hips. "Don't be shy, sweetheart. I wanna see." He encourages, tone soft like his thumbs that rub the back of your hands. The gesture makes your heart flutter and eventually loosen up completely.

Giving the man a sight that he fully believes could rival the seven wonders of the world.

Once you caught the rhythm, you fell into it perfectly. Leon could practically see the confidence in you build up as you stopped covering your sounds and yourself altogether. Letting your tits bounce, your head slightly fall back with another moan just for him, as your hips roll and grind down to meet his thrusts in your own sensual dance. Getting lost in it all. That's what he was after. That's what he wanted to see. And he was right- you truly looked so goddamn beautiful like this.

It excited him so much, Leon's chest actually tightened up for a moment. He doesn't care if it sounds cheesy or cliché but it stole his breath and somehow made him fall even harder for you. Leading him to wonder if maybe there really is a God that sent him this angel as a gift for all the hardships he had to endure. If that's to be the case.

Then it was all so worth it.

Suddenly his gaze locks on yours when he finds you staring at him, clearly you're feeling good. But you still seem a little worried if you're doing a good job for him or not. Fuck, if you only knew. "That's it, baby girl." Leon praises you breathlessly with a rather dopey little grin- completely awestruck by you. Your sounds acting as his favorite song, that he's no doubt recorded once or twice.

That blissfully shy smile you give him, so proud of yourself for just making him happy like this. Mixing with the clear view he has of his lower abdomen and cock being heavily coated in more of your slick as he reappears then quickly disappears back inside your gushing pussy to stretch you again. And again. And again. As if you never want him to leave. Jesus Christ, he won't be surprised if his heart explodes at this rate.

"Goddamn, I love you." The blonde groans, receiving a light squeeze from your dainty hands and a whisper back in reply, "I love you more."

That's it for him, the final nail in the coffin. He's desperate to watch you cum now as he bolts upright to wrap his arms snug around your waist and bounce you harder in his lap. "Mmh~ Oh fuck!~ Leon!~" Given how he smiles against your lips says it all- It's official. This is his new favorite way he likes to have you. Always. "Keep screaming my name, sunshine." Leon lovingly growls as he presses his forehead against yours. Blue eyes lit with a firey hunger.

"We've got all night.~"

#I know nothing about 'small blurb' writing #I only go 'long descriptive'#cause I don't know when tf to stop #especially when it's re6 leon #AGAIN he continues to keep me in a chokehold 😔#but it's finally done!#the one senario i've always thought of writing for a long time #and it's with the ✨husband✨#fuck yeah baby #let's goooo #leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil 6 #re6 leon #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut

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