#modern! Reader

[luimagines]

can I request the chain with a modern!reader that has a ton of knick-knacks from their era that the chain is absolutely obsessed with please? like wind loves their sunglasses, twilight is obsessed with their lip balm, sky keeps stealing their hand cream, etc. I'm super excited to read it ☺️🥰

OOhh!! Cute! I'll see what I can do! :D

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

"....So.... what is this again?" Twilight takes the cap off of your lip balm and puts it back on. He does it again. And again.

"Chapstick!" You snatch it back. "If you keep doing that you're going to mess it up."

"I like these." Wind grins, playing with the sunglasses as they fit on his snuggly on nose. "I want some! Everything looks cool and dark."

"Well yes." You laugh a bit as you apply the lip balm to your lips, only vaguely aware that Twilight had been watching the movement. "That's the point of them anyway. They're meant to wear on very sunny and bright days so you don't hurt your eyes."

"How do I look?" He strikes a pose. He looks ridiculous. They don't remotely fit him.

"You look great, little buddy!"

"This smells nice." Sky rubs his hands together, smelling his hands again right after. You had been trying to do your morning routine when the boys had caught your various skin/health care items. You didn't have the strength to stop them as they fiddle with what you had and began to continue looking through your stuff.

"Good." You reply absentmindedly to Sky as you take your lotion back. "It's supposed to."

"But what is it for?" Warrior takes the bottle out of your hand and tries to read what's on the bottle. Naturally, he understands nothing.

"It's to keep your skin soft." You sigh and hold your hand out for it. Honestly, the least they do is ask. It's like trying to keep your brother's our of your drawer.

"Can I try?" Warrior asks, eyes bright like a child's.

You groan and face palm. "Sure. Go ahead. It's not like that's the only bottle I brought with me or anything."

"I'm surprised you brought it at all." Legend jokes, playing with one of your pens that has multiple inks on the inside. You think he likes the clicking sounds the most. It's not like he knows he can draw with it. "What good is all this stuff?"

"You don't get to say anything!" You accuse. "You brought three journals, two shovel and like five different magic rods!"

"Those are are tools!" He sits up at once. "They're to help when you're out and about and adventuring!"

"Well this is for my sense of routine and structure!" You fire back. "I need some sense of normalcy in this crazy messed up time wibbly wobbly thing I've found myself in! None of you know what a microwave is!"

"Did you bring it?" Wild tilts his head. "What's does that do?"

"I- No, I didn't bring one." You fight the urge to face palm again, "It's too huge and heavy but it's suppose to heat up food faster than a fire and it's convenient."

Wild grins. "I want one."

You sigh. "...I'll see what I can do, big guy."

"Yes!"

[celeste-clearwater-06]

heartbeat (thorin oakenshield x female!modern! reader)

gif by me!!

desc. - reader puts her CPR lessons to good use when thorin's on the brink of death. (inspired by an imagine by @imaginexhobbit but make it sad🫶 also i listened to "farewell to dobby" while reading this, it adds so muchhh)

warnings - angst 💔

word count - 2.7k

For most of the time you’d been traveling with Thorin and his merry band of warriors, you could only account a few times you provided yourself useful to the group. Bofur was a whittler and toy maker, Oin a healer, Ori a scribe. Thorin and his sister-sons, the rightful heir to a kingdom. Even Bilbo had squeezed his way into a position of burglary, though he was hardly fit, and was still fighting to prove himself.

You?

A few stories around the campfire. Some questions answered about where you’d appeared from out of nowhere in particular. Mouth watering modern food recipes you babbled on about, over rabbit stew Bombur happily served on the cold nights on the road. And sure, you were getting good with a sword, but not nearly as skillful as the fearless fighter Dwalin.

You could see the malevolence and distaste in Thorin’s eyes when Gandalf decided for himself that you would make a fine addition to the group. After all, some otherworldly stranger happening upon them just as their fateful quest began was no coincidence. To him it meant something. But to the leader of the group? Danger? Deadweight? You couldn’t tell. Whatever it was, it settled behind his cold, steel-blue eyes and swelled whenever he watched you fail miserably at every task given.

You simply weren’t built for a world like this.

Thorin didn’t hate you. He wasn’t necessarily fond of you either. And how you longed to fit in, impress him maybe. Break past whatever tough exterior that he used to keep a distance between the two of you. Pushing too much would surely annoy him, so you opted to keep to yourself, sitting back and placing yourself near Gandalf and the witty Bilbo Baggins, who seemed to have walked a few miles in your own shoes. If he could wear them, that is. Hoping maybe one day the King under the mountain would come around. Maybe.

But now, soaring over the horizon of a morning sun and above the towering mountains, on the feathered back of a massive bird, Bilbo had proven himself in his bravery, and you were alone and useless in your skills.

You were seated atop the same eagle as the halfling, right behind another that carried Thorin’s limp body in its talons, wind and the worried cries of his nephews rushing through your hair and past your ears. Azog’s fight was not an easy one. Not that you could do much anyways, dangling uselessly from a blazing pine tree and fingers slipping from its scorching branches. But Thorin, ever the brave, was taken down quickly.

Thank the lord for Gandalf’s endless alliances.

Now, the eagles circled a plateau, oddly sticking out from above high treetops like a sore thumb, and began to descend to its slanted surface where each member of the company jumped off. Some destination this was, hundreds of feet off the ground. You’d think they might find a safer spot to land this band of underground dwelling travelers but beggars can’t be choosers. At least you were out of harm's way for the time being. The eagle you and Bilbo rode flew low enough for you to hop off and land safely on the cliff’s surface, then turn and see Thorin, unconscious and unmoving, set down gently in front of the rest of the group.

They all crowded around him, shouting and shaking his body vigorously, but to no avail. Your stomach dropped when you heard one of them mutter a word that sounded like “dead”.

You rushed over, just getting a few glimpses of his face from behind the heads of thick hair and heavy fur coats circling him like vultures, Bilbo at your heels and following in curiosity.

“He’s not breathing!”

“Thorin! Thorin, wake up!” A hand tapped on the side of his face.

You immediately began shouting to clear some room. The sea of worried dwarves parted for you, just enough room to sling your haversack off your shoulders and lean down on your knees, bringing an ear to his mouth. They were right. Not a breath to be heard. Nor a pulse, you discovered, after placing your fingers to the side of his cold neck.

“No…no no, no.”

The company shared confused mutters and looks, worry lines still etched like canyons in their faces as they watched you clamor to unclasp his thick cloak and pull away as much clothing as you could from his chest.

Now, you were no doctor. Not even a medical student for that matter. Just barely scraping by with an art degree and two, low paying part-time jobs back home. Wherever that was. But, thankfully, those required CPR lessons back in junior high suddenly came rushing back to you, and you were gonna put to the best use you could.

You locked your elbows, flattened your palms, and then hastily pressed against the brute of his firm chest. Mahal, it was stubborn, and the armored shirt between your hands and his heart was no help, but acting quickly spared no time for shedding any more of his clothes. Again and again you pressed, one, two, just how the instructor taught you with her quick tongue and loud voice.

“An even pace! You’re going to lose him!”

The recall made your head spin, especially considering it might have been a bit comedic at the time, trying to revive an armless mannequin on the tile floor of your classroom. But under the steady pressure of your palms was a real person, teetering on the edge of life and death.

Gandalf landed somewhere behind you, being the last to touch ground, but he was forgotten in the sea of deep voices asking what you could possibly be doing.

By the 16th compression, you were beginning to break a sweat. Twenty, twenty one…

“Lass… what are ya’ doing?” Bofur's voice, usually friendly and jovial, was a low and cowering one. His question left the rest of the group quiet. You heard, but you didn’t answer. That would be for later when this was over. Preferably with a happy ending.

Thirty.

You moved to pinch Thorin's nose shut, tilting his head just slightly off the ground with the other hand tangled in his hair and breathed into his open mouth.

Any and all bewildered muttering was lost on the focus you had, to watch for any movement in his relaxed face.

You breathed again, and then bent over to listen. Nothing.

Now things began to get more grave than you’d taken them before.

You moved back to begin compressions again, this time pressing harder and deeper against his heart. You lifted a forearm to wipe the sweat gathering on your brow.

In your class, you were supposed to take turns, and rotate when one got tired so they could properly compress. But this wasn’t class.

Thorin was beneath the weight of your hands and his face was losing color.

“Come on… come on Thorin.”

You lost count after the 19th shove downwards, adrenaline kicking in and tears blurring the corners of your eyes as Thorin convulsed.

A warm hand settled on your shoulder above.

“Lass… he-” you smacked it away, anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach like fire that you spat out.

“No! No he’s not, n-not yet.”

Again, you breathed into his airway, heavy and even, like you were supposed to. You were doing everything right. So why wasn’t it working? Why wasn’t he breathing?

This was the quietest you had ever heard the company. Only birds and the sound of your exhausted, heaving breaths and choking sobs floating in the cool morning air.

You moved back to compressions, starting again, one, two, three. You were begging him, hysterically pleading his unresponsive body to kick start back up.

“Please Thorin. Come on.”

Now tears rolled down the apple of your cheeks, warm and bothersome and blinding, falling over your hands and his clothes. Your arms ached at the now desperate shoving against his heart. You looked pathetic, like a widow begging for scraps of Thorin’s lifeline, something to get him through. The ground dug harshly into your knees, bruising and irritating them through the pants as they dully scraped with each movement.

Twenty two.

You were slowing down, growing weary and tired from the work. But it wasn’t good enough. At this point, with the silent stares, you knew that even the ever stubborn dwarves had lost hope for their leader some time ago. And you had too, but now you were already getting past the twenty-fifth press down. Curse the lot of them, just staring down at you with pity as you sniffed and wiped the snot and tears from your face. And curse the beauty of the morning sun peaking over the mountains, so regal and beautiful, and staring down at the morose show of a sad little human weeping to herself.

“Please… please, God you idiot. Running down there like that.”

A cry frogged its way out of the back of your throat, raspy and gurgling. You lift his head for the third time, sniffed in and then pushed your shaking breath as hard as you could manage, pulled away, then back down to press your quivering lips upon his cold ones and-

A breath. Soft and faint, just barely there, and it slightly cooled the tears on your face.

You froze, staring down at Thorin to see his eyes twitch just slightly underneath their lids. Another exhale fled him, his time much more apparent, and his brows furrowed as he stirred awake. The gasps and shouts from the company, scrambling over and circling him like they did before to help him up as he came to.

“He’s alive!”

“A miracle! Bless the Valor!”

You lifted yourself from the ground, onto your feet, but the shock of your attempts actually working, and exhaustion, just left you to stumble backwards onto your butt, crying harder than before, in relief and joy, nonetheless sobbing like your life depended on it. You gave into the fatigue of your muscles, the tiredness from the adrenaline, and exhaustion from your sobs, and fell onto your back, covering your eyes with a forearm with the other limply laying on the ground next to you. Bilbo kneeled next to you and laid his small hand over yours, watching as the king was pulled to his feet and grimacing at the noises of his jovial party celebrating with shouting and laughing.

“You did it,” The burglar said quietly, just enough for you to hear. It wasn’t just amazement in his voice, but reassurance. Something to ground you, like the warm squeeze of his hand.

You trembled, breaths coming in and out with a shiver.

Thorin’s dazed when you slowly sit up off the ground to look at him, swaying about and being jostled as each excited dwarf embraced and jumped around him, and an arm shouldered over Kìli’s to keep his balance.

“You were dead.” Dwalin’s normally stony, hard-set face, was graced with the most horrified look you’d ever seen in your life, eyes widened and brows twisted upwards in awe. That seemed to settle everyone down enough, and shake Thorin from the rest of his stupor. Once again, the world around you was blessed with silence that you hadn’t gotten a taste of since you arrived. It was short lived.

“Dead?” Thorin asked, incredulous and confused.

“Ye’ weren’t breathing lad!” Gloin chimed in, “we thought you were gone!”

The king’s eyes narrow, and shift between the members of his party, blinking away a head rush.

“How is that possible?” The second set of words he’d spoken since he screamed Azog’s name. Thorin’s voice was low and rasping. He slowly turned, following the astounded, wide-eyed stares from the surrounding dwarves, boring into you like you were some God.

You sniffled, wiping at your reddened, runny nose with the sleeve of your shirt.

He lifted a jeweled hand to graze over his heart, where you were reviving him, just staring at the sad sight of your tearful eyes.

“She saved ya’, Thorin,” Balin’s voice is serious and somber, breaking the silence, “Brough’ ya’ back from near death. Mahal knows how.”

Thorin’s eyes grew sharp, brows furrowing and piercing into you, where you pulled yourself to sit on your knees. His fingers tightened around the cloth where his hand laid, clutching at his chest.

“You,” he gruffed, “You did this?”

“I-I… I didn’t know if it was gonna work.” Your throat tightened and squeezed. Great, even more tears flowed down your face. Thorin’s eyes held the same glint that made your stomach twist with embarrassment and shame. The least he could do is offer a nod of gratitude towards you. Instead, he tore free from the group, ripping his arm away off his nephew’s shoulder and stumbling towards you like a drunken fool, with thudding footsteps.

Dwalin calls after him uselessly, just hanging back and letting the scene play out.

When he stops in front of you, eyes firey and broad chest heaving breaths in and out, standing a few inches over where you’re knelt, all you can do is try not to look away. You’re glad you hadn’t.

A boa-tight grip took hold of your heart and tightened when you saw his features soften, worry lines and crow's feet disappearing in the appearance of a small, incredulous smile. His softened eyes lined themselves with the hint of tears catching like jewels in the morning sun. Thorin dropped down to his knees to meet your height in a hug that you could never have prepared yourself for. You freeze for a moment, completely dumbfounded. Thorin, fearless, merciless, King Under the Mountain was hugging, no, embracing you, with the force of a thousand winds and strength of ten thousand men, because he was alive, thanks to you. And you hugged him back, pulling closer than you already were, and grasping at the back of his shirt and cried into his shoulder. The dwarves cheered in excitement behind Thorin. Through the yelling and praise, you can hear Thorin’s low voice next to your ear.

“I cannot repay this deed. Thank you.”

You pull away to see the kindest, warmest smile your eyes had ever been blessed to lay upon. It knocked the breath from your lungs. The corners of his eyes and the arch of his nose wrinkled upwards. It suited his face much more than the cold and stoic stares he was prone to.

“I wasn’t sure you were gonna make it.” Was all you could huff out.

“Yet I did. I misunderstood you greatly.” Thorin wiped a tear from the side of your face, “You make a member of this group. My life is indebted to you. And you,”

He peered over your shoulder at a wide-eyed Bilbo Baggins, standing just past your shoulder. You helped him stand from the ground, arm linked in his to meet the hobbit.

“You nearly got yourself killed,” he slipped free from your arm, and started toward Bilbo, just as he did you. “Did I not say you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild?”

Your face fell, akin to Bilbo’s solemn look. He stood there, taking the string of insults like a punching bag.

“That you had no place amongst us?”

And then he pulled the hobbit in just as he did you.

“I have never been so wrong, in all my life.”

Your heart reeled, and this time you smiled along with the rest of the company’s rejoices, watching the surprised grin spread across Bilbo’s face. Thorin pulled away.

“I am sorry I doubted you.”

“No, no. I would have doubted me, too.”

A hand planted itself on your shoulder, and you turned to look at Gandalf and his sagely smile.

“You’ve made yourself quite the home in these dwarves' hearts, young lady,” he said. It was comedic, the way his silvery hair and beard dramatically blew in the wind, “Perhaps once this has settled, you stay with them. I think you’d find yourself more than welcome in Erebor’s Halls.”

You hummed in thought. The band of travelers were gathered on the edge of the plateau, looking out in the distance towards the peak of the Lonely Mountain, calling their name through the mist.

Thorin turned back to look at you over his shoulder with a gentle smile, and nodded his head to you in a silent thanks. The ghost of a blush spread across his face.

“I just might.”

(aaaaaah! what did you guys think??? :3 it feels wonderful to get a full fic out after so long, ive had this idea in my head for dayyys ugh 💔 please send me some requests loves, i'm in desperate need of some comfort fics! don't forget to reblog and like!! love yas! 🩷🌺🌸🌷💝💞)

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[where-dreamers-go]

“Here And There” Eragon x Reader

(A/N: Requested by the awesome @shewhobreathesfire for a clumsy Modern! Reader who has been made an ambassador for Alagaësia and sent out to Mount Arngor.

Warnings: Very minor angst. Mild language. Use of (Y/N).

Word Count: 1,706 words)

Ambassador of Alagaësia, appointed by Queen Nasuada herself, tasked with exchanging ideas of changes in the land through meetings with Mount Arngor’s leader, and follow protocol.

You found it all to be rushed decisions, really. Not that you would risk voicing that opinion out loud. You couldn’t afford to be foolish in that matter even if all of this was a new experience. You would rather live to tell the tale. Then again, you felt safer away from Alagaësia. From the endless list of laws and social norms.

Mount Arngor, or whichever of the handful of names you wished to call it, stood tall against a blue sky. Grassland stretched out all around it with water sources running close by. The new stronghold grew on one of the many peaks at the base of the mountain, looking extremely tiny in comparison.

At least you had found your way easily enough.

Roughly almost three weeks into walking in your new ambassador position left you questioning yourself. Not only in business matters, but how you were around others. Eragon in particular.

The Dragon Rider had evolved more than you imagined and exactly as you hoped. He had grown well as a leader, working within the community.

All out of Queen Nasuada’s reach. Or so you liked to tell yourself.

She would never see you running your foot into a table after Eragon complimented one of your suggestions for organizing storage. Unfortunately, a handful of dwarves and the other ambassador did. At least they never mentioned it.

I need to pull myself together, you thought as you descended the stairs. Went the wrong way again.

You could surely roll your eyes at yourself.

Barely a month and I have a crush on Eragon. Good job. Very predictable. Making a face, you continued on. Just more work for me. But is it really a new crush or from years of…

“Turned around?”

The sudden familiar voice and presence spooked you. A foot moving where it shouldn’t and you stumbled with a small gasp.

One hand reached out to steady yourself on the wall just as Eragon grabbed ahold of your other arm. His grip helped keep you on your feet and away from tumbling down stone steps.

A quiet curse left your lips as heat rose on your neck.

“Thank you,” you said, muscles remaining tense.

“You’re welcome.”

His hold disappeared once you found your footing.

What are the odds? At least I didn’t hurt myself this time. You exhaled slowly.

“Are you alright?” Eragon questioned, brown gaze trying to read your expression.

“Fine.”

Setting your sights forwards, you took the next steps down carefully.

“Just…questioning my navigation skills.” You added and then muttered. “And gravity, apparently.”

The Dragon Rider kept pace with you. Quiet only for a few moments.

“I’m relieved you’re alright. It would had been quite a fall.”

“Yeah,” you breathed out and finally relaxed as you found yourselves on flat stone.

Tapestries, lights, and rugs decorated the area. Much the same aesthetic as other sparse places in the grand building. They were truly making it into a home.

“Um.” You glanced over to Eragon. “Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome. Again,” he smiled.

His expression could had melted you on the spot.

“I hope you never find yourself in the same circumstance.”

“So do I.” Clasping your hands together, you took a step in another direction. “I’ll…be on my way.”

“All right. Take care.”

“Yup. You too.”

With a quick nod and smile, you scurried off. Your feet taking you anywhere but where you really wanted to be. For how could you spend more time with Eragon when your increasing feelings for him made your very being act out of sorts?

Great job, you thought sarcastically. You have officially turned into a clumsy, stumbling person under the title of ambassador. And always in front of him. Why? Am I doing a good job regardless? Maybe.

Eragon didn’t even know your full story of becoming an ambassador. You never got to the point, the beginning, of how you met Nasuada.

How would you even start the tale? Would he believe you?

Nasuada hardly did.

Yet look how far you had traveled since then.

Have you done all that Queen Nasuada had asked of you of your appointed position of ambassador? On paper, yes. In the way she probably wanted you to, nope.

There was only so much enthusiasm and professionalism you could show with the list she gave you to do.

Send updates? Sure, but you were living in a world where dragons, humans, Urgals, dwarves, and elves existed amongst others. There was so much to experience and a letter to the Queen wasn’t high on your list.

It’s weird how I got this job in the first place, you thought. If I met someone dressed odd, visually confused, and falling out of a portal then I’d keep them under observation and question them more than a few days rather than checking if they have magic. You sighed, your thoughts running off. Then again, I’m alive. Can’t complain there. Less danger here anyway.

* *

A calm, quiet night lightened any mood held with Mount Arngor. Groups of peoples talking beside a fire and others busied themselves with a personal hobby. It made the common area warm in more ways than one.

Sitting alone by a wall light was better than cooping yourself up in your room all night. You had been welcomed into a community after all, might as well see some of it. Plus you might see the handsome Dragon Rider.

All good things.

Your nose was buried in your notes and a focused curve framed your brow. You bothered no one. Content in your own task even without a desk.

Little did you know, that it intrigued a young man. One who decided to indulge in his curiosity.

Eragon took up a seat beside you. No pretenses. No greeting.

“Who’s language is that?” Eragon asked.

Your hand rose away from the parchment.

Awh, crap.

You scrambled to think of an answer that wouldn’t be a paragraph long explanation.

Peeking over from the corner of your eye, you answered, “Human.”

Perfect.

Eragon leaned over, entering your personal space.

Your eyes tracked his movements and you dared not move.

“I haven’t seen script as that before.”

“My handwriting isn’t that bad,” you joked lightly.

“What? No,” he sat back, “I didn’t mean—.” He paused once he saw your expression.

You smiled.

Narrowing his eyes playfully, he asked, “Do you have to write notes all day?”

“No. They’re mainly for me.” You gestured to the dried ink. “I don’t think Nas—uh. Queen Nasuada…. I don’t think she’d be interested in these notes. I hardly think she enjoys my letters.”

“Why would you think that?” He pressed, an edge of seriousness in his tone. “Does she not want to know everything you do here?”

Tilting your head back and forth a couple of times, you finally answered, “Because I was writing about the weather.”

Eyebrows rose, but Eragon said nothing.

“I’m serious.”

Studying you through his brown eyes was enough to make you a little self-conscious. In the very least, his gaze made you overly aware of the proximity between the pair of you.

“Why would you write about the weather?” His seriousness broke down into full perplexity.

“Because I’ve never visited a huge lonely mountain with a bunch of snow on top. What’s it like when it rains a lot? How many sets of stairs even are there? Can dough rise properly here? How are my sinuses doing lately? Important questions.”

A small smile curved the Rider’s lips.

He thinks this is funny or agrees? You wondered. So many darn questions. And he’s cute. GAH! Not now.

“You should see the mountain in the winter. The winds are strong and the cold bites.”

You hummed in thought, saying, “Perhaps I should inform her of the weather extensively.” You bit back a chuckle. “She kind of threw this job on me without much warning.”

“She trusts you.”

“That’s the thing.” You whispered. “She doesn’t know me well enough or long enough to trust me personally, but…I’m here as an ambassador and I have no idea if I’m doing it properly.”

A concerned frown crossed Eragon’s features.

You did not know where you were going with the conversation, but you needed to tell him something about yourself. Your situation. A hint of the truth.

“You’ve literally seen me trip over my own feet. I cross my fingers and hope I don’t fumble when addressing people, Eragon.”

“You’re new to the position. Not everything turns out as you expect.”

Exhaling, you glanced at your writing. More than simple notes of the weather.

“You’re doing well.” His words were soft. Genuine.

The words of encouragement sprung a lightness in your chest you could not acknowledge without tempting fate with a surge of clumsiness in yourself.

“Thank you, but…uh… I literally talk differently, spent well over a decade as a student, and I’m not from here. And yet she still sent me here.”

“What?”

“Exactly. What credibility do I have? Why me?”

Eragon turned in his seat to face you directly.

The change in his demeanor caused you to lose grip of your pen.

“Why does where you’re from matter about being named an ambassador?”

Immediately, you opened your mouth to respond with an answer about your true origins, however you said nothing. Mouth closed. You shrugged.

Eragon held your gaze in time of two breaths before speaking again.

“Is there something you can not tell me?”

“I’m not sure you’d believe me if I did, but,” you glanced over to where an Urgal sat down, “this place is very different from what I’m used to. Magic and all.”

“Will you tell me more about where you’re from one day? When you’re not writing about weather.”

“I might…if you help me find my pen.” You leaned over to check near your feet.

“Deal.” Eragon placed the pen atop of your notes.

“Thank you.”

“You’re always welcome, (Y/N).” His voice was warm, inviting.

A flutter in your stomach teased you.

Oh. Why’d he say my name LIKE THAT?

~~~

Best wishes and happy reading.)

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coffee

~~~~~

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[fl3shm4id3n]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓜𝓸𝓸𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓾𝓷

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐮𝐧, 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ᴡɪꜰᴇ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ! ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ! ɢꜰ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: SPOILERS from the books, character deaths, a bit of a graphic death description, assassinations, blood pacts, angst but fluff. Reincarnation Au

Author’s note: I re-watched Maya and the three and the Book of life. I fell in love with the sun and moon theory that I wanted to write something similar with Aemond and wife! reader. I think this song fits the fic.

It all started with a promise, the night of your wedding you had promised to one another that you’ll always be together for ever. A small blood pact was made to seal this promise.

Everything was great between the two of you, he was the husband of your dreams, a true prince charming from the fairy tales you read, you could not ask for more. Aemond felt as if he could not live with out you, he was glad that his mother had matched the both of you and you were his perfect match. You were his other half.

Most of the time you both would be inseparable, the only time you’d separate was due to duties. You both would take walks in the garden and talk, in the day at night. That’s when the nicknames began.

During the day, Aemond would always seem to glow with the felt of the son. His hair would seem brighter along with his eye and skin. You had began to call him your Sun, to you he was the depiction of what a Sun God would look like. He was also the light of your life, he was the flame to your candle.

At the night, you were the one that glowed, just like him both your hair, eyes, and skin glowed by the help of the moon. You had become his Moon, if a Moon goddess had a physical figure, that’d be you, his wife, his Y/n. During his most darkest time you were there for him, you were his light from his darkness.

But conflict began to rise, the war between the greens and the black had began when your husband had killed their son. Everything seemed to have happened so quickly. What hit harder was the death of the innocent prince, Helaena’s oldest son, at this point you knew no one was safe, this war will involve both Fire and Blood.

The night was normal, this time you were alone since your husband had to attend a council meeting with the new King. During the day you had tried talking to the Queen, Helaena. She did not say one word, she had become a shell. She no longer left her room, bathed, ate, or drank water, it hurt you seeing the once sweet and innocent princess slowly killing herself due to the great guilt she felt.

You had dismissed your handmaiden for the night, you just wanted to be alone to process everything that was happening. She had left you your favorite tea on the small table for you to drink. You took the small porcelain cup and took a couple sips, the tea had tasted bitter, you added some sugar to sweeten it a bit. 

Then you began to cough, this cough was not one of when the liquid goes down the wrong pipe, but on as if you were trying to cough out your own stomach. Then you began to feel your throat shut in. Desperately you tried to claw at you neck and tried screaming for help, but nothing came out.

Blood began to pour from out your eyes, nose, ears, and mouth, It hurt so bad. You were laying on the ground, trying so hard to call someone, anyone. Then someone came in, it was him, your sun, your husband.

“Y/n!?” In a panic Aemond ran to you and held you in his arms, he got a good look at you, see that your once bright skin was now a deathly color of purple and red, your eyes were now a blood shot red and the blood. He knew of this poison, he could not help you any longer, it was too late. The least he could do if hold you and comfort you as you passed, painfully.

“I...love...you” those were your last words to him before you had finally rested in peace. That night Aemond had cried, holding onto your body all night until the began to rise, he wanted blood, he will avenge you even if it kills him, your death will not go unavenged. 

Weeks had passed since you had died, since then Aemond had not been able to sleep without you. He could not get any sleep, so he’d go for a walk in the garden like he used too. It did not feel the same, it felt cold with out you, but when he looked up at the sky, he saw the full moon. The moon looked beautiful tonight, if only you were here.

He got a closer look towards the moon, he could not believe his eyes. He saw you, the moon had your beautiful face painted on it. Aemond thought he must have been hallucinating due to the lack of sleep, but no, that was you, it had to be you, no one shared that unique beauty but you. He felt a tear fall from his eye “My moon, my Y/n” he whispered as he closed his eye, feeling your presence next to him.

Who knew Aemond would of met his fate, the battle Above The Gods Eye. Vhagar and Caraxes along with their riders would die. With Caraxes ripping at Vhagar throat as she had crawled at his stomach. The Rogue prince Daemon had stabbed his swords through his nephew's one and only good eye, until his blade pierced through his throat, Aemond’s lasts words was the name of his beloved wife Y/n. Later his body had been retrieved with Dark Sister still pierced through his eye. 

He will finally be at piece with his wife, but gods had mother plans.

𝒫𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒

You were an art student at a university in England, you had moved from your home to London. During that time you had met a man, his name was Aemond Targaryen, he was from a wealthy family that everyone knew off. You met at a bookstore, the bookstore you worked at. He had come in to buy some books and he came across you, who helped him find the books he needed.

Since then you had began hanging out and those hand out turned into dates, then finally you began to date. During your relationship, you had felt as if you had met him before, like if you knew each other in a different life of some kind. Aemond also looked like the man from your dreams. From that dream it was also a painting that you were working on called “The Moon and The Sun”

It was of two lovers who had promised to stay with one another forever, a war had happened and they had sacrificed a lot of things in hopes of keeping their loved ones safe. Sadly they both died but their gods had granted them their wish of staying together, by turning the woman into the Moon and the man into the sun, so that they can be together in the sky for all eternality. That dream always felt so real. 

Today was another date, at an art museum. You both had a love of art and history so why not go to an art museum. You had come across a painting of a woman, wearing a peach colored gown and she was sitting in a garden surrounded by flowers at night, the moon had been shinning bright to her. She looked beautiful, you had also noticed how her features looked similar to yours, her eyes, her hair, along with her nose and face structure, she looked just like you.

Not to mention the painting next to her, the man also looked similar to Aemond. Same eye, hair except his was longer while his was cup in a bob, nose, lips, everything. This time he was sitting on a large green dragon, flying towards the sun. The bigger question was, why did they look similar to the couple in your dream? It must be a coincidence. 

That night you worked on your painting, ever since you got back from the art museum, you had got to work non stop, you felt as if it needed to be finished. You had fallen sleep on the couch, your paintbrushes scattered on the floor, dried paint on your hands and shirt, you didn’t notice you had fallen asleep. When you got up, you cleaned everything up and put everything away, your painting was finally complete, you couldn’t wait to show it to Aemond. 

That night you invited Aemond to your house for dinner, when you got home, you cooked and made sure everything was perfect for when he came, when you arrived, you both had dinner and now you were about to show him the painting.

“I have something to show you” you said now excited as you guided Aemond towards the living room where your painting had been hanging. “Oh really? What may that be” he said as he followed you “You’ll see” you said as you. “There it is!” you said as Aemond looked up, seeing his facial expression turning into one of awe.

The painting was a couple, a man and a woman. The man had long white hair, an eye patch on his left eye, his good eye was closed, and he was wearing a dark type of attire. Meanwhile the woman behind him had her arms wrapped around his waist, her hair was the same color, length and texture as yours, same with her skin and she wore a rose colored gown. The couple was riding on a creature, a large forest green colored dragon. As for the sky, the sky was split in both day and night. The day was directed towards the male and the night was directed toward the female. 

“Do you like it? I call it ‘The Moon and The Sun’“ You said a bit nervous as Aemond turns towards you with a smile painted on his lips. “I love it, the most beautiful piece of art I’ve ever set my eye on” he said leaning in and kissed you on the corner of your lip causing you to laugh. 

You wrap your arms around his neck as he wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you closer. “I love you, my sun” you whispered so he could only here you address him. “And I love you, my moon”

[mishietishie]

Been thinking about modern! husband Sukuna who's a tattoo artist and his wife who's a kindergarten teacher <3

You're about to do an arts and crafts project with the kids, but when you notice you forgot your art supplies, your heart ached with the thought of seeing the little one's dissapointed faces. Luckily for you, your husband is on break and brought them to your class!

The little students are all shocked when they see a big, scary man enter their class and kiss their sweet teacher's cheek. they all surround him and start bombarding him with questions as to if he's a superhero because he looks so strong

Once Sukuna got through the dozens of questions by the little bastards, (his words, not mine!!), he gets dragged by them to join them on their art project. And how could he refuse when they gave him puppy eyes along with your sweet smile and voice asking him so nicely?

Yeah, just modern! Sukuna <3

[y-ckysstuff]

I love the head cannon that Ghost likes to stare a lot. Not at anything in particular, just staring.

Then he realizes that he really likes staring at you. He's fucking you in missionary, basically rocking both of your bodies and the bed with each deep and heavy thrust, putting his body weight into it. He's got his large hands planted beside your head, maybe your legs clenching on and off his hips as he thrusts.

Between your moaning and his fat dick making your pussy drool, you don't notice him staring into your face, huffing and groaning every now and then but otherwise quiet.

Between your moaning and crying about how good he feels, grasping onto his thick wrists for support as he pounds, you finally acknowledge him staring into your eyes.

"S... Simon?" You say breathlessly, being a little confused.

He stares a little longer before realizing what he's doing and shakes out of it, leaning down so your faces are right against each other, but not quite touching, slowing his thrusts down into a deeper, more loving pace, "You're fuckin' beautiful..." He whispers.

He captures your lips before you respond, not that you could with the way he's fucking and loving you.

His thrusts get sloppier, still deep and hard, his tongue intertwining with yours messily. You couldn't believe how much you turned him on by just being looked at.

Nor could he, yet here he was, groaning as one thick hand wrapped around the back of your neck, kissing you harder as he cums ropes inside of you.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Simon Riley is a sucker for eye contact. Being as his eyes are the only part of his face that he allows to be visible to others, eye contact is incredibly important to him.

But with you, he reads you best when he can see your eyes. He loves to know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling.

Having an argument with him? You best bet he’s holding your gaze, regardless of what you’re arguing about. If you look away? This man will simply not speak, not utter a single word until you look back at him.

He’ll hold your gaze the entire time he’s fucking you. He’ll force you to keep your eyes open as he pounds into you, wanting to see every bit of pleasure played out in them.

Going down on you? You better hold his gaze. He’ll rip his mouth away so fast and refuse to continue if you let your eyes flutter closed. One of his favorite things in the universe is watching your eyes as come undone.

Going down on him? This man’s fist will be so tightly wound in your hair, pulling your head back ever so slightly so he can see your tear filled eyes, so pretty just for him.

One of his favorite things is when he comes home from deployment, the two of you have a ritual where you will lay in bed together, facing one another as you catch each other up on what you’ve missed. He’ll hold your gaze the entire time, his hand lacing through your hair softly as he hangs onto every word you say.

Simon Riley may not be a man of many words, but with you he’s learned that eyes are windows to the soul. And he’s more than happy to bare his to you.

[manicrouge]

'I'm too old to do anythin' like that now,' Simon says, shaking his head.

'But daddy,' whines the little girl standing in front of him, her small hands tugging at his black t-shirt, 'mummy was telling me all about how you a- and my uncles used to save the world and I wanna learn cause I wanna be just like you!'

He lifts his head, spying you standing in the doorway with a bright grin on your face. 'What you tellin' her that for?'

'Because she wants to know how to beat the boys in the street when they're having water fights,' you say, 'thought your military experience would come in handy.'

'They're always laughin' at me,' she pouts, 'and sayin' I can't fight cause I'm a girl.'

There's a switch that is flipped at her confession and when he looks to her and then raises his head to look at you, you swear you're looking at the Lieutenant instead of your husband.

'Is that so?' he asks, to which your daughter nods her head quickly. He holds his hand out to her and she takes it happily. 'We'll teach them to mess with a Riley, ey sweet pea?'

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Ghost: I cut my finger Y/N: I can kiss it so it'll get better Ghost: That works? Y/N: Yeah my mum used to do it when I was little *later* Ghost: I need you to punch me in the mouth Roach: Fucking finally

[where-dreamers-go]

Oh I wonder what would happen if Eragon catches modern!reader humming or straight up singing songs from their world.

Hi there.

Hmmm.

Well, Eragon's time with music has been with dwarves celebrating while Saphira got absolutely drunk where she sang from Eragon, right? Then knowing elves have musical minds. Elves use magic to sing boats and such into shape. Plus elves performed music at the Blood Oath ceremony, right? But not recreationally. (They have a "critique" on his poem.) Eragon hasn't been around bards in court or in a tavern.

So, with that be said, Eragon wouldn't be shocked of modern! Reader's humming or singing, BUT he would be of lyrics or rhythm. That difference might catch his attention.

Has Eragon heard a song about something that doesn't recall ACTUAL events?

How would Eragon react to hearing about music being a hobby, a career, or a favorite past time to listen to?

The different genres!!!

For example and funnies:

Why Should I Worry - "It's about a dog singing to a kitten named Oliver." The look of confusion on the Dragon Rider's face, imagine.

Beat It - "So, Eragon, do you want to guess what 'funky' means?" "No."

Prince Ali - "I had no idea one person could change their voice so. Are you certain you didn't use magic?" "Eragon, I'll take that as a compliment."

???

What song would you be humming or singing if you were modern! Reader?

[lxvvie]

Simon 'I'm a bloody fuckin' gentleman' Riley

Simon who refuses to let you walk behind him. You're either in front or right beside him and never on the side closest to the street.

Simon who opens your car door and closes it after you get in.

Simon who puts gas in the car and refuses to let you handle it, especially when it's cold.

Simon who will go outside at night if you need to get something before winding down.

Simon who won't let you carry anything heavy even if you can do so.

Simon who won't let you put together or fix anything around the house.

Simon who's your escort around town if need be.

Simon who's the first to whip out his wallet. Complain all you fuckin' want, luv, he takes care of his.

Simon who makes sure everything is taken care of before leaving for deployment.

Simon who makes sure to check in with you every time he can because he knows you worry about him.

Simon who does all that and more because he's a bloody fuckin' gentleman. Your bloody fuckin' gentleman, and he wants your life to be as stress-free and easy as possible.

Simon who hits you with this look when he finds out you paid the tab instead of using the loo like you said you were going to:

[whateveriwant]

Good evening, I can't stop thinking about Simon going brain dead as he fucks you :)

Like, just imagine. You're on your elbows and knees as Simon's hitting it from behind, when suddenly you feel something wet land on your back. You know it's not him finishing given the fact that he's still buried deep inside you, so you look back over your shoulder to see what the hell that was you just felt.

And when you turn around, the sight that greets you is one for the ages. There's Simon, eyes unfocused and glazed over, mouth hanging wide open in the most fucked-out expression you've ever witnessed. He looks like he's never had an intelligent thought in his life; like he's been reverted back to a primitive brain, whose only drives are to eat, breathe, and fuck.

As you watch him rut into you like a sex-crazed animal, it's then you spy the source of the mystery liquid dripping onto your back. There, dribbling steadily from Simon's ajar mouth, flows a thick stream of drool. It leads down from his bottom lip in long, viscous ribbons, landing and settling itself along the curve of your spine. If he even notices (which, by the look on his face, he's too far gone for such higher-order thinking processes) then he doesn't care. He just lets his spit pour freely from his open mouth, like some kind of wild beast that's got its eyes locked onto its next meal.

Simon is so mentally checked out that he can't even hear you as you gently say his name. No, all he can think about – all his shriveled little monkey brain can focus on at this moment – is how fucking good you feel around him and how fucking badly he needs to fill you up.

When Simon does finally cum, he can only manage a garbled string of grunts and groans that doesn't even come close to resembling human speech. After three, four, five thrusts as deep into you as possible, his whole body is shaking, and his trembling limbs give out.

He collapses on top of you without a second's consideration of his size, pinning you to the mattress beneath his warm, heavy frame. You can still feel him drooling a little as his face comes to rest in the crook of your neck, the mess on your lower back getting smeared between your bodies.

It's hard for you to breathe being trapped under Simon's weight like that, so you try lightly tapping him on the head to ask him to roll off you. Unfortunately, I'm afraid it's no use trying to gain his attention right now. You're going to have to give him a few minutes to collect himself, love.

The poor guy just fucked himself stupid, after all.

[euno11a]

it is proven that majority of women can’t orgasm from intercourse alone. So imagine reader who can’t make herself cum, no matter how she touches her swollen little bud.

it’s becoming more annoying as you keep trying, different speeds, pressures, and angles, but nothing seems to work for you! It’s gotten to the point where you’ve quite frankly given up on even touching yourself. You’ve tried for so long, yet always get nothing.

so imagine telling Simon when he asks you, oh so kindly when on deployment, to touch yourself with him to make you both feel good. The silence over the phone when you say you can’t.

“What?”

“I just can’t. I’ve tried, but it just doesn’t work for me.”

“‘Ave ya-?”

“I’ve done everything, Simon! I can’t, okay?”

it was clear that this was something that you weren’t comfortable with talking about. It made you upset that you didn’t “function correctly” like other women. So the night Simon came home, he greeted you with a soft kiss. There wasn’t any harsh underlying emotion, just soft and sweet love. His large and calloused hands would cup your cheeks and look at your eyes, watching the slight confusion slip into your gaze.

now laying against his sturdier chest, looking at yourself in the mirror with him behind you, you knew what was happening. He gently pulled down your sleeping pants, taking his time to let his fingertips brush against every inch of your thighs, all the way down to your ankles. And soon enough, off came your panties too. He started by admiring the slight glistening of your slick right by your entrance, using his fingers to gently dip into the fluid that he loved. Dragging his fingers upwards, he brought his fingertips to the side of your clit, letting your slick be the lube for his fingers.

Simon looked at you through the mirror, keeping eye contact as his fingers pressed onto your clit. The gasp that left your lips was sudden, almost reaching down to grab his wrist, but stopping when he gave you a stern warning look. Everything felt different - his touch felt electrifying, while yours felt like watching paint dry. Why was it so different? Your eyes fluttered shut, head resting on his shoulder when he started speeding up his small circular motion. Your thighs spread a little more, shuddering when you felt a build up in your lower tummy. That burn you never felt unless you used a toy, the burn you got before you were clouded with euphoria; it was coming. You let out small squeaks and whimpers as your hips lifted and you came undone. Usually that’s when you’d stop, let your body just relax, but Simon kept a firm hand across your torso, using his leg to keep yours pinned down so he could still rub you till complete satisfaction.

once his movements slowed and he was panting along with you slightly, he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, looking at your eyes through the mirror again.

“I don’t care what time of day it is, if ye need t’cum, y’tell me and I’ll help, love. Alrigh’?”

you mustered a small nod, droopy eyes falling to the wet and sticky mess between your thighs, and the lovely hands that helped you along the way.

[tylenolslut]

simon riley with a gf who’s a preschool teacher.

simon riley who loves seeing all the little outfits his girlfriend dresses up in. whether it’s a pair of jeans and a jumper, one of those cute sun dresses or even those stupid pair of dinosaur overalls that her students love so much.

simon riley who loves to watch his girlfriend get ready for work. watching her do her makeup, put her hair up and even helping her pick what to wear.

simon riley who loves the art work his girlfriend brings home from her students. who loves them more than she does sometimes. who melts every time one of the write ‘mr. simon’ above a small stick figure next to another one that has his girlfriend’s name above it.

simon riley who gets videos from his girlfriend while deployed. most of the videos being her saying she loves him but some of them include the preschoolers telling him to be safe.

simon riley who retires from an injury. who can’t stay still so he ends up in his girlfriends classroom for the first time. who ends up sitting with the kids, reading them a book about a military dog.

simon riley who by the end of the week has been to the class everyday. even bringing Riley in for the kids to meet.

simon riley who by the end of the week decides he wants kids.

[simonrileysfavteacup]

Simon picked your engagement ring himself. He went to the jeweller, saw the ring, and immediately thought of you. He loves it. He’s always kissing your left hand. He’s so in love with you, it aches. 

When the two of you finally get married, he never stops looking at his ring. It’s a plain thick silver band, but he loves it so much. He’s just so afraid he’ll lose it. 

Instead, he wears the ring on his dog tag chain and gets your initial tattooed on him. The day he comes home from deployment, at first, you don’t notice anything different but his facial hair. Then, when you ask him to get you a fork at dinner, you gasp, “What’s that?”

“What?” he raises a brow.

You grab his hand, pointing to the tattoo. “What? Where’s your ring? What’s this?”

“Here,” he tugs at the chain around his neck. “And ‘is is jus’ to show people ’m married.”

“It’s permanent!”

“Is our marriage no’ supposed to be?” 

“But-”

“Are ya tryin’ to leave me, lovie?”

“No…it’s just…permanent…”

“Good. You’re my Mrs. ‘hat’s permanent too.”

You giggle. “Fine. I’m getting one too.”

“Like ‘ell you are. ‘M not letting you ruin that perfect skin.”

“But-”

“Lovie,” he warns. “No means no. I know how much you love me and you hate needles.” 

“Okay…”

“You could spread your legs to prove it though.”

“SIMON!”

[deunmiu-dessie]

𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 23 c.o.d men rambles with nsfw visuals (p-links) ♡

featuring!— kyle ‘gaz’ garrick, johnny ‘soap’ mactavish, simon ‘ghost’ riley, john ‘captain’ price, phillip graves, könig, vladimir makarov! ♡

₁ 𐙚 imagine fucking john doggy style, and he’s jus’ so horny for you so you guys don't even make it to the bed :( he tosses you onto the couch and lifts your ass into the air, his thick, meaty cock bruising your insides. then he grips your hair and bends you back to slant his lips over yours in a messy kiss 😖

₂ 𐙚 having a sloppy make-out session with gaz when he gets back from a mission. sucking on his tongue and whimpering into his mouth while his big hands run up and down your thighs and ass. gaz always gets you so needy and wet before he dicks you down, having tears streaming down your face and thighs trembling :((

₃ 𐙚 soap fucking his cum back into your swollen pussy while whining and whimpering, promising to get you pregnant; thick and hard at the thought of you round with his kids. he pumps your pussy to the brim with his cum that night, til it drips down your thighs.

₄ 𐙚 gaz loves to record the two of you having sex, and loves to send it to the 141 group chat. loves to show off his pretty girl whose pussy takes his big cock so well :( loves to show them how well you moan and beg, loves to show them your fucked out face, loves the way the team goes feral as you moan their names with bleary eyes and drool spilling down your chin. loves to show them that regardless, you're his.

₅ 𐙚 simon using your pussy as a cumdump... literally, when you act like a brat. he'll have you lay naked across the bed, hand fisting his cock as gazes at your tits, your needy cunt drooling and clenching. he'll watch as you cry and beg for him to fuck you, your wrists bound together and tied to the headboard. then he'll press his thick tip into your pussy and spill himself inside. brats don't get to cum, as he likes to say— sorry :(

₆ 𐙚 kyle 'will overstimulate you while pussydrunk' garrick. baby gaz just loves the taste of your pussy, especially after going so long without it :( you're so warm and sweet, needy and sobbing-- and he's missed the feel of your thick thighs wrapped around his head, missed the feeling of your hands running through his hair. so, just let him enjoy his meal.

₇ 𐙚 needy soap who swears he'll just rock against your panties, his thick cock nudging your fattened clit which presses eagerly against the pre-cum soaked fabric. soap who moves your panties to the side and shushes you with a kiss to your lips, swearing he'll just thrust against you; thumb brushing against your bundle of nerves. soap who loses himself in the moment, gripping your thighs and looking at you with pleading eyes, swearing he'll only use the tip, thick, bulbous head already stretching your pussy. 🥺

₈ 𐙚 after you had the baby, john can't stop thinking about seeing you swollen and round again, with your breasts heavy, and thighs thick. john who breeds your pussy at any moment he can. whether it be with you bent over the counter and cooking dinner, with you sleep; your pussy warm and welcoming, or even in the shower, your milk-heavy tits pressed against the shower door. ( bonus )

₉ 𐙚 makarov who finally gives in to your pleading demands, his hands rough as he forces you onto the bed, yanking down your skirt and pulling your panties to the side. his gaze is cold and calculating, even a bit annoyed. makarov who snatches the loli from your mouth, running it up your slick pussy before pushing it in. "Это то, что вы хотели, да?"

₁₀ 𐙚 he makes sure to fuck you well before he leaves on a mission, his thick cock bullying your slick cunt full of his cum. gaz makes sure you know who your pussy belongs to, makes sure he has your thighs trembling in his arms as he fucks you against the shower wall.

₁₁ 𐙚 simon loves to watch you ride him, loves to have your tits in his face, taking one of your sensitive nipples into his mouth. loves to hear you whine that your cumming for the fifth time, loves to watch as his abdomen becomes sticky with your creamy cum. loves watching your lips tremble and your eyes water as he thrusts sharply into you, knocking on your cervix and bruising it.

₁₂ 𐙚 having sex with gaz always overstimulates you in every sense of the word and not just with your body. gaz loves to watch you fall apart on his cock, loves to grab your chin and keep your eyes locked with his, loves to watch your gaze get bleary and your mouth struggle to form words all while his hand moves in quick figure eights on your clit, cock spearing through you deliciously. gaz will press kisses to your swollen lips, groaning into your mouth. "on me, luv. le' me see those gorgeous eyes."

₁₃ 𐙚 price loves to suck on your tits, while his cock slowly pumps in and out of you. loves to bury his face into the valley, placing kisses and sucking hickies. john price sucks on your nipples like a man starved, thick hands squeezing and kneading :(

₁₄ 𐙚 imagine getting punished by boyfriend graves because you fucked up during a mission, the objective getting away. he tells everyone to leave the room, glaring eyes stuck on yours. graves who orders you to strip, pushing you down against a busted couch, yanking down your combat pants, and tearing your panties. graves who angrily unzips himself, as you blubber and plead, pussy leaking and ready. he watches as your pussy struggles to take his cock, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you apologize repeatedly. "don't want to fucking hear it, sergeant."

₁₅ 𐙚 gaz fucking you into the bed after he gets home from a mission gone awry. soft lover gaz who just can't be his usual giving self. gaz who takes what he needs from you, regardless of the tears that stream down our face.

₁₆ 𐙚 könig, all needy can't help but fuck your thighs, whimpering and whining :(

₁₇ 𐙚 having a threesome with soap and gaz; who can't help but record as soap practically makes love to you with his eyes. gaz who could care less as you forget all about his cock, breathing heavily as he watches as your pussy struggles to swallow soap's cock. gaz who sends the video to the 141 group chat.

₁₈ 𐙚 imagine makarov sharing your pussy with yuri as a reward to the man. makarov who guides your mouth over his cock, all while sipping on his alcohol; yuri fucking into your pussy needily, grunting and groaning as you squeeze around him.

₁₉ 𐙚 100 percent believe this is how gaz and soap eat you out, prove me wrong. i'll wait. ( bonus: since soap made you cum first, you granted his wish. )

₂₀ 𐙚 john overstimulating you while whispering how much of a good girl you are, slapping at your thighs when you cringe away from him, his thick fingers finding your clit again. john who fucks into ravenously, cooing as you shudder and buck against him.

₂₁ 𐙚 graves finally puts your smart mouth to work, shoving his thick length down your throat. graves angrily saying your pussy isn't good enough for his cock. his words, not mine.

₂₂ 𐙚 angry sex with toxic gaz, who swears no one will ever fuck you as good as he will. who tells you that you belong to him, that you were made for each other, that you won't leave him. who fucks you dumb until you promise to stay.

₂₃ 𐙚 soap swears he won't cum inside you...

spent hours scrolling through twitter porn, help me.😔