#yearning pining dying just give it to me ....

[supercutts]

          open to : m / f / nb

          ❛  do  you  do  this  with  all  of  your  '  friends  '  ?  ❜

[steviewashere]

hmmm i think for a prompt i will sayyy steve/eddie for not actually unrequited with steve scared of defining their relationship bexause he doesn’t want to be rejected but their friendship is super affectionate and closer than his previous friendships <3

Okay, finally getting around to doing some of the prompts in my inbox. But I gotta admit, I may not have gone the way that this was supposed to. It's still good, but I'm unsure. Thank you for the prompt!! <3

Tags: Getting Together, Love Confessions, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Mutual Pining, Yearning, Domestic, Bisexual Eddie Munson, Friends to Lovers, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Insecure Steve Harrington, First Kiss, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Hand Holding, Back of Hand Kisses (My Love)

💕—————💕 He brushes away a stray hair from Eddie’s face and wonders, not for the first time, when they got so close on the couch.

Steve knows that he’s doomed. There’s something in his relationship with Eddie that’s new, unspoken, treacherous. And he suspects that it started with the gentle touches. The way his fingers move over the frizz on Eddie’s curls and how he can map all the scars on their torsos. He’s aware of all the noises Eddie makes in his sleep and how their legs lock into each other under his comforter. He knows where Eddie is, based solely on the echoing steps his feet make. If they move soft, he’s in his socks, moving through the hallways to avoid waking Steve up.

There a lot of things he knows about Eddie, in fact.

Coffee with three teaspoons of sugar and a splash of milk. All laundry dried, except for his jeans; and he’s allergic to the Tide, but not Gain. He brushes his teeth with Arm & Hammer, flosses twice a day, and uses spearmint mouthwash only at night. Every Tuesday between 7pm-9pm, he allots time in his schedule just for campaign planning; he needs to be reminded to eat dinner on those days, so Steve always makes something and sits with him until he’s done. Sometimes they hold each other’s hands, a reminder, Steve supposes. Eddie enjoys pepperoni and olives on his pizza, and will gladly take Steve’s olives. He takes his eggs scrambled with cheese, but colby jack, not the Kraft American slices. Bees are his mortal enemy and just one sting would upend him in the hospital. His skin burns easy in the summer, so he applies double the sunscreen, and Steve has done this all before. He has freckles on his back, over his shoulders, up the sides of his neck, on his face. Steve likes to try and count them, but loses track the moment Eddie giggles or smiles.

When he comes over to watch a movie, he always slouches on the right cushion and lets Steve wrap around his left side. He prefers sci-fi over action, but action over romance, but romance over sad dramas. His favorite animals are cats and will adamantly refuse to watch or listen to anything involving that said animal dying. If silences stretch for too long, Eddie taps his fingers over the shapes of his rings, though never slides them off his fingers. He tapes his rings because they’re too big to fit naturally—they were hand-me-downs from his grandpa on his mom’s side, a last gift given before he passed. His mom smelt like Love’s Baby Soft, so when he’s having a particularly bad day, he sprays his pillows with an old bottle he kept. (It’s almost empty and Steve already bought a new one for when it runs out, he just has to have the gall to give it to him.)

Eddie runs cold. Eddie wears three layers all the time—at least. Eddie speaks softly when it’s just the two of them. Eddie always looks at him. Eddie listens to him. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

That’s all Steve’s brain is.

And he knows that it’s too much for them to just be friends. But that’s all they are.

He doesn’t want that to be the case, but when he gets the chance to open his mouth and finally say something, it’s like the words die half-way out of his chest. Because Eddie’s like him, in some ways, trying to find the right person, not finding that person, going out and trying again. He hooks-up with girls on the weekdays and goes out to seedy bars on the weekends. His collarbones are sometimes riddled with hickeys; when Steve chances a glance at him, when he’s shirtless and getting ready to share the bed, before he gets in the pool, when he’s a little too warm, when he wants Steve to apply the sunscreen, when he wants fingers tracing the edges of his scars—when he wants to talk about something that went wrong with the girl.

Like tonight.

Eddie’s on his couch. Hair in his face. Shirt off.

He leans too far into Steve’s side, even if it means nothing. He laughs and places a palm on the center of Steve’s back. He shoves his cheek against the side of Steve’s face and whispers hot and harsh on his ear, wet and warm and soothing, all too close—and Steve can smell him. Musk and sweat and Love’s Baby Soft and citrus and Irish Spring and a little like marijuana. He laughs again and stumbles into Steve’s side and places his head on the nook of his shoulder. He calls Steve sweetheart and squeezes his hand.

He always does, though. All of this. He always is this. Too much and too affectionate and too sweet and too ‘Steve’s type.’

Steve can’t take his eyes off of Eddie. Wondering, not for the first time, when he’ll just say what he needs to.

“I think you’re beautiful,” Steve wants to say, “I think you’re kind. I think you’d look good underneath me on my bed. I think I like when you wear my clothes whenever you stay over. I think I’d make you breakfast forever if it meant you’d sit at my table. I think I love you, Eddie. Eddie, god, I think I love you.”

They’re just friends, though. Nothing less.

Nothing more.

And Steve’s afraid of the nuance of this friendship he has. Is it better to never say a thing? Or should he rip the bandaid off and eventually plaster it over his broken heart the moment Eddie rejects him?

Because, as is, all Eddie talks about is girls. Girls with tattoos. Girls with nerd interests. Girls with wild makeup. Girls.

And Steve, noticeably, is not a girl.

He’s none of what Eddie is seeking. Nothing of what he wants. What he desires.

“I don’t know,” Eddie sighs, “she just isn’t the one.”

Steve grunts. “That makes no sense,” he softly exclaims, elbowing Eddie. Washing in the hiss and smirk that Eddie gives him. He’d bathe in whatever Eddie handed to him, if only to have him here, like this, all the time. “It just…You say she’s perfect under you. You say she’s funny and sweet and beautiful. You say all these nice things about this girl, but she isn’t the one? None of that makes sense to me, Eds.”

Eddie’s gaze on him shifts then, something more distant and pained. His fingers splayed over Steve’s thighs, they flex and flatten and tickle. He twists his mouth. And swallows hard, enough to flex the muscles of his neck. “Yeah, I guess I did,” he murmurs. Then, he leans in further. Further, somehow, always further.

And something in Steve wilts. Because, “This isn’t fair.”

“What?” Eddie mutters, brows furrowing. “What’s not fair, Stevie?” He blinks and Steve’s immediately in a daze. His eyelashes are long and dark and creating soft shadow under his eyes. His cheeks are flushed with rosacea pink blush. And has an overwhelming amount of sweet, sugary softness in his stare—enough that Steve’s stomach stirs nauseously.

“This,” Steve whispers. He wrenches his hand away from where it, on an automatic shift, went to trace Eddie’s scars—especially the one closest to him, a wide and silvery one over his left ribs. The one that’s smooth under Steve’s touch.

Nervously, Eddie chuckles. His hand instinctively tightens over Steve’s leg. “Sweetheart, I don’t—“

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Steve exclaims, finally jumping apart. He stands shakily from his couch and faces where he sat, towering over Eddie’s stupidly big, soft eyes and his gentle scowl and the flush of his pale skin. His shadow draws his attention towards the highlights over Eddie, the light yellow on his irises and the glint of scars and that shiny silver of his decade old rings. “This thing you’re doing. The—The—Flirting!”

“Flirting?” Eddie innocently asks. He blinks again, owlishly this time.

“Yes, Eddie! Flirting! You do it all the time…You—You always call me sweetheart and you’re always touching me and…” But he takes in Eddie’s face again. How pretty he is. How stupidly endearing every aspect of him is. And he—

God, Steve can’t do this. He can’t ruin this.

“…Never mind,” he mutters, “don’t worry about it.” And he sits back down. A noticeable gap between them.

“Steve?”

He shakes his head. But otherwise remains silent.

“Steve,” Eddie calls again, softly. So small that it could’ve been lost inside the couch cushions. “Do you not like when I do those things?”

“I like them,” Steve can at least admit. “I don’t mind.”

But Eddie doesn’t touch him again. He looks away, Steve can sense it, even with his own eyes facing forward. His t-shirt is put back on, Steve can see every movement Eddie makes and knows exactly what part of his body he’s using and what exactly he’s doing.

And then they’re just silent.

Maybe he’s already ruined it. He always knew that everything would fall through the moment he admitted anything. The moment he made some sort of realization. And it’s not like the crush was unprecedented. It was slow. Small things, at first. Other things, when time gave way to them. He catalogued everything. And he knew, the moment he learned to touch Eddie where it mattered most—over his scalp and the scars and down the slope of his nose—he was already falling in love.

Of course he’s in love with one of his best friends.

He’s always in love with a best friend. Always somebody that becomes unattainable. First, it was Tommy and then Tommy started dating Carol. Then, it was Nancy and they were great, but then she wanted Jonathan. After, it was Robin and he’s fine with not having Robin in that way, thank god not in that way. He should’ve seen it coming when Eddie stuck around.

He should’ve known. Why didn’t he know?

But if he spoke, Eddie would find a reason to not love him back. That was the scary part. Tommy—he couldn’t see it. Nancy—she never loved him, not really. Robin—well, that one goes left unsaid. What would Eddie find? Would he realize how clingy Steve is? Would he become embarrassed by Steve’s romance movie type of love: drive-in dates and sweet kisses on the lips and slow embraces that lasted forever? Would he come to terms with having nothing in common, despite having everything to talk about as friends? Would he get bored? Would he just…fizzle out?

Steve can imagine it all. Becoming boring. Becoming uninteresting. Becoming unlovable.

Not being desirable.

That’s all he wants. To be desired the way he desires. All too much. All at once. Like flames engulfing the world. He wants and he wants and he wants.

But if he spoke, he’d have to continue wanting—though from an arm’s length. Because Eddie would leave, probably. Turn him down. Realize the truth about Steve Harrington.

The boy everybody wants, but nobody loves.

He’d still want Eddie, though, even if he realized.

“I didn’t know—“

“Eddie,” Steve murmurs, “you don’t have to…Don’t do this with me. Just ignore it. Please, Eds, just ignore it.”

Gentle fingers on the back of his hand. Pushing the skin upward, towards his knuckles. “And if I didn’t want to ignore it?” Eddie asks. So soft. So small.

Steve blinks, his eyes wet and his throat burning. “Don’t—“ He takes a shuttering breath as Eddie’s palm wraps around his whole hand. “Eddie, please,” he pleads, “don’t do this if you don’t mean it.”

Eddie’s hand flexes, squeezing. “Steve,” he murmurs, “look at me?”

Hesitantly, and oh so slowly, Steve makes his head move. He catches Eddie’s eyes, the first thing he always notices when they’re together, and melts. They’re like voids, pulling Steve in. A warm void, though. A hot bath. He raises their joined hands to his lips. They’re a little dry, soft and warm over Steve’s skin.

“I want to mean it,” Eddie quietly confesses.

“But,” Steve mutters, “but what about all those girls?”

“They’re not the one,” Eddie says, “they’re not you.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

Eddie gazes at him now. The way love interests do in all the movies Steve’s ever loved. With a softness like that of cat backs, the ones Eddie likes. With warmth like that of Eddie’s dried laundry. With sweetness like that of Eddie’s morning coffee. His lips are pressed into the back of Steve’s hand again.

“They’re not you,” Eddie reiterates. “They aren’t sweet to me, they aren’t gentle or funny in those silent ways you are. And they aren’t handsome with your good hair. Or warm against me. I’m with them and all I can think about is coming back to you, talking to you, holding you, laying next to you. All I think about is you.”

Steve raises his free hand to the right side of Eddie’s face. Cups his cheek, runs his thumb over his cheekbone, tangles his fingers in the hair above his ear. “You’re all I think about, too,” Steve admits. “Even when I’m hanging out with you, I’m still thinking about you.” He smiles back at the received soft one Eddie has. His dimples have never looked this good. And his mouth is plenty kissable. His face is warm and pink under Steve’s hand.

So he leans in, slowly, enough for everything to be taken back. For him to wake up from this possible dream. And when there’s nothing left to do but lean forward that extra millimeter, Steve kisses him.

Eddie tastes like pepperonis and olives and spearmint. He’s focused completely, kissing back with enough force to make Steve nearly fall backwards. His lips move as if devouring. Steve hopes he tastes just as good.

“I love you,” Eddie confesses first. “I’ve loved you for…a fucking long time.”

Steve, the hopelessly hopeful romantic that he is, melts. “I love you, too,” he breathes.

“Boyfriends?” Eddie asks, smirking, but not teasing.

He nods. “Yeah, Eds. Wanna be your boyfriend.” Something more. God, they're something more.

💕—————💕

[catsandbats13]

Scaryoke Scars

Chapter 3

SMUT WARNING

You felt his glasses press into your face as he kissed you slowly and deliberately, as if you had all the time in the world. Your hands left his wrists and you tangled them into his mussed hair, knocking his fez off in the process. He groaned slightly when he felt your fingers card through his gray locks, apparently he quite enjoyed that, you took a mental note about that for later.

His hands started to explore as the two of you continued locking lips, slowly running them down the sensitive skin on your neck. His touch there made you shiver with delight and anticipation, he’d barely touched you but you were already getting worked up. He traced your collarbone with his fingertips, following the contour of your body down to your shoulders before slipping his arms underneath yours and gripping your hips, with just enough pressure to let you know how badly he wanted this.

As you kept making out, Stan began backing you up until your backside hit the edge of the dining table. Once there, he wasted no time and used his brawny arms to lift your thighs and sit you down on the tabletop, not even breaking the kiss. You gasped at his brazenness but made no move to pull away, you were dying to see what he’d do next.

You were almost dizzy from the affection he was giving you, it was obvious it had been a while for him because his touch was ravenous and yearning. The kiss had quickly turned sloppy and you took the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth. His reaction was immediate, you felt him smile against your lips and return the gesture, pulling you even closer than before so you were chest to chest. It still wasn’t enough, so you wrapped your legs around his hips and ground against him, wanting him to know you were just as hungry for this as he was.

Stan pulled away for a moment, allowing you both to catch your breath, but kept his arms firmly wrapped around you. The two of you breathed and stared lustily at one another until he broke the silence.

“How far are you wanting to take this, doll?”

You smiled sweetly at him, touched that even in the midst of a heated make out session he still had the mind to check in with you.

“Stan, honey, watching you take down an army of zombies was the biggest turn on ever. I need you, I need all of you. Right here, right now.” You confessed breathlessly to his handsome face.

Even with your admission, he appeared unsure, averting his eyes and tilting his chin down in apparent uncertainty.

“It’s just, are you sure you want this? With me? I wouldn’t blame ya if you don’t, I know I’m no Prince Charming over here.”

You were taken aback by his insecurity, he’d always been so suave and confident, and you couldn’t understand what he meant about not being desirable. Did he really not know how attractive he is?

You used your hand to tilt his chin back up so you could look him in the eyes while you tell him what a catch he is.

“I don’t want Prince Charming, I want you, Stan Pines. And for the record, I think you’re stunningly handsome and sexy as hell, and there’s no one else I’d rather be with right now. You’re my hero after all.”

He seemed dumbstruck by your words, he blinked at you with his mouth agape, before swiftly recovering and plastering on that trademark lopsided grin and leaning in close to purr into your ear.

“Is that what you think about me? Do you wanna know what I think about you?”

Not trusting your voice at the moment you just nodded into his chest, eagerly awaiting his response.

As he spoke, you felt a strong hand start sneaking its way up under your shirt, stroking your skin and filling you with burning desire.

“I think you’re the prettiest gal I’ve ever seen, a total knockout.”

His fingertips traced the bottom edge of your bra, sending your heartbeat into overdrive.

“I think you’re smart as a whip, and too witty for your own good. You’re fierce, you’re not afraid to talk back to me and give me a piece of your mind.”

You felt his lips press to the juncture of your neck, his stubble rubbing pleasurably on your skin. He took a break from praising you to kiss his way up your throat, making you whimper at the sensation, your panties were drenched at this point, he was slowly driving you crazy in the best way possible.

“I also think that you’re brave as hell, you were ready to make a final stand in the gift shop to protect the kids, with nothing but your bare hands. That’s not something I’ll ever forget.”

He kissed you then, pouring his gratitude into the kiss as you practically melted in his arms.

When he finally pulled away, you took a moment to take in his appearance. His hair was a mess thanks to your wandering hands, his glasses were askew, you could see the side of his face was slightly bruised from the earlier fight and his lips were swollen and shining from your intense make out session.

You’d never seen anything so attractive in your life, was this really happening? You felt as though you were in a dream.

Soon you felt his warm hand slip into your bra, palming your breast as he resumed speaking.

“And you wanna know what else I think?” He murmured, lips ghosting your inflamed cheeks.

“What?” you asked, excited to hear his response.

“I think you’d look much better without this on,” he answered, slightly lifting the bottom of your shirt, a shameless expression on his face.

You didn’t bother holding back your delighted laughter at his remark, causing his smug grin to grow wider as he took in your amusement at his clever joke.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, you promptly grabbed the bottom of your t-shirt and pulled it over your head to toss across the kitchen, you’d find it later.

You were taken aback by the pure unadulterated lust on Stan’s face once your bust was exposed. But before he could resume feeling you up, you poked your index finger on his chest, holding him back slightly. He looked at you in puzzlement until you told him, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“I guess it’s only fair,” he smirked back at you, straightening so he could quickly start to remove what was left of his suit jacket and shirt. You just sat back and enjoyed the show he was putting on for you, admiring his physique. The man was broad in all the right places, he had thick muscular arms that felt wonderful wrapped around you. His body was still relatively sculpted from his boxing years, though he had a bit of a gut, not that that made him any less sexy, you loved his tummy. As he stripped, you finally got a good look at his burly chest covered in a thick carpet of hair that you’d been sneaking glances at any time he wore a v-neck, which in your opinion, wasn’t often enough.

“D’ya like what you see?” He asked, his voice confident, but his question revealed an undercurrent of insecurity.

“Fuck yes,” you answered immediately, your eyes wide with want.

After that confirmation, Stan wasted no time grabbing ahold of you once more and smashing your lips together. Your hands went to his pecs, fingers raking through his coarse expanse of chest hair as his hands began to explore your top half as well, kneading your breasts tenderly through the fabric of your bra. You decided to take the initiative and reached behind your back to fiddle with the clasps until you succeeded, and let your bra fall to the floor, forgotten. Once you were fully exposed, Stan ceased his assault on your mouth and moved his attention lower, muttering praise as he repositioned.

“You’re so gorgeous, doll, how did I ever get so lucky?” you heard him mutter under his breath before dipping his head down and enveloping your nipple in his hot mouth, making you arch into his touch and stifling your moans with your hand.

Dear God, he’s good at this, you thought as you watched him worship you with his tongue, sucking on your hardened buds and making you keen and writhe in place, though his brawny arms locked around your hips kept you from moving too much.

“Stan, please!” You pleaded, hands flying to grip his hair as he swirled his tongue and lightly bit you, making you jolt in place. You weren’t even sure what you were begging for, all you could focus on was how good he was making you feel and you hadn’t even taken your pants off yet, though you were hoping that would come soon.

Finally, he lifted his head from your breast, a line of saliva trailing from his mouth to your now incredibly sensitive nipple. He licked his lips, then planted both hands on either side of your hips, caging you in as he leaned forward until your noses were almost touching.

“Please what? You gotta be specific, doll. I’ll give you what you want…if you ask nicely.”

His words sent a spike of arousal straight to your core, drenching your underwear even more. You hadn’t expected him to be such a tease. Normally you’d feel slightly embarrassed at the request but you were so turned on you answered right away.

“Please touch me, here…” you implored him, grabbing his wide, roughened hand and guiding it in between your legs where you wanted him most.

He groaned as his fingers met the damp fabric of your leggings and he felt just how affected you were by everything he’d done to you so far.

“Holy Moses, you’re soaked, sweetheart.” He gasped out while attentively rubbing your folds through the material, trying to find that sweet spot that would make you see stars. He watched your reactions closely as he explored, taking note of where he could touch to wring out those delightful sounds from you.

You were on cloud nine, head thrown back in euphoria and panting out soft gasps at his every manipulation. It was incredible, but you needed more, and you told him so in between whimpers.

Stan wasted no time, pulling his hand away to grab the waistline of your bottoms and start shimmying them down your legs, using his deft fingers to hook your panties and pull them off in one go. You shifted and lifted up slightly to expedite the process, eager to get rid of anything separating your bare skin from his. He impatiently pulled the offending fabric down your legs and over your ankles, tossing the garment behind him without a second glance.

Stan knelt down in front of you, using his hands to pry your thighs apart to reveal your wetness to him. He inhaled sharply as he got a good look at your dripping core, pupils blown wide with desire and an expression of pure lust on his gorgeous face. It was obvious he liked what he saw, you felt yourself blushing due to his intense stare but you couldn’t deny that his excitement made you feel sexy and adored.

Before you could make a joke about him seeing something he likes, he surged forward and buried his head between your legs and began ravenously devouring you. You had to suppress a yelp, the fervency of his motions taking you off guard, not that you were complaining. He was eating you out like a man starved, taking the occasional break to kiss and nip at your inner thighs. You held onto his head for dear life, fingers twisted into his graying strands. His tongue delved into your folds, licking and sucking every inch of you, making you shiver in ecstasy. You could feel that warm coil unwinding in the center of your being, it didn’t take long till you were almost at your peak.

“Oh Stan, I’m so close,” you managed to choke out.

“That’s it sweetheart, come for me,” you heard him say before he resumed lapping at your entrance, zeroing in on your clit with expert precision. That did it for you, you’d fantasized so long about hearing him say those words, but actually having him say it aloud in his gravelly voice sent you over the edge and you came hard. It was akin to a supernova at the center of your being, filling you to the brim with total euphoria. Stars filled your vision as you ground against his face, Stan not faltering in the slightest and prolonging your orgasm a ridiculous amount, making you tremble with aftershocks..

It wasn’t until you used your grip on his scalp to gently tug his head up out of your lap that he desisted, so intent was he on your pleasure.

“Y’alright, doll?” You heard him ask with a soft chuckle from above where you lay on the table, eyes closed, trying to catch your breath after the best head you’ve ever gotten. You opened your eyes to see Stan leaning over you, his stubbled mouth and jaw glistening with your slick. The look on his face was indecent, it seemed he had enjoyed going down on you as much as you had.

“Alright? I’m amazing! You’re amazing!” You praised him with a blissed out grin.

He laughed softly, reaching a hand out to absentmindedly caress your arm, ducking his head slightly in shyness.

“I’ve, uh, wanted to do that for a while now,” he admitted bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck with his other hand.

You sat up and took a hold of the hand on your arm and pulled it to your face, placing your cheek into his worn palm and nuzzling his hand affectionately.

“Well I’m glad you did. You’re welcome to do that anytime you like,” you told him honestly.

He looked at you with such tenderness as you pressed kisses into his hand, slowly and deliberately trailing down his arm, giving the gauze you’d wrapped around it earlier a soft peck as well, earning an amused chuckle from the man. Once your lips had reached his fuzzy, broad shoulder, you switched to his other hand and repeated the same affectionate process. He remained still, allowing you to move his limbs as you pleased and press kisses wherever you could reach. You wanted him to feel as loved as he made you feel.

You had something else on your mind too though. Stan had worshiped you, and now it was time to return the favour.

Once you were sure he’d been thoroughly covered in kisses, you gently put his hand aside and used your hands to lift your hips off of the table and slide down to plant your feet flat on the floor, standing bare chest to bare chest (well, more your face to his chest, given that he had some height on you) with the man you were sure you were falling in love with.

You leaned up, throwing your arms around his bulky neck to drag him down to your level and press your lips to his in a sensual, open mouthed kiss. He tasted like cheap cigars, Pitt cola and of you, his face still shining with the evidence of your passion.

Your front was pressed to his barrel chest, your nipples rubbing against the coarse hair there in the most delightful way as you French kissed exuberantly. You felt Stan’s hands wander to cup your ass cheeks and squeeze appreciatively, pulling you further into his embrace.

You had other intentions than just making out with him at the moment though. While Stan was distracted by your tongues entangling, you snuck your right arm down his hairy back, around and under his paunch to start fumbling for his zipper. It took a couple of tries but you managed to blindly snag it between your fingers and drag it down, giving you the freedom to slip your hand straight into his boxers. You felt him gasp into your mouth as your hand wrapped around his hardness and you carefully tugged his cock out of his underwear. He was girthy and just long enough that you knew he was going to hit all the right places inside of you. Now that you had a hold of him, you began to stroke him off while the two of you locked lips. Stan’s movements became more frenzied as you continued to pleasure him.

“Fucking hell, doll,” he groaned when the two of you paused to catch a breath, undeniably affected by your attention.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he murmured, ducking his head and nuzzling into your neck, his stubble tickling slightly.

“Think you can hold on a bit longer, handsome?” You purred back. You weren’t done with him yet, not by a long shot. You’d dreamed about getting your hands on him like this for so long, you were not about to waste the opportunity.

“I think I can manage,” he shot back breathlessly, biting you gently, then soothing it with an open mouthed kiss that morphed into what you knew would become a hickey.

The sensation of his love bite almost made you lose your composure for a second, but you quickly recovered and gave his erection a final tender squeeze before reluctantly pulling away from his embrace to mirror his previous actions and kneel in front of him.

“Y-you don’t have to if you don’t want-“ Stan started to stutter out but you shushed him and told him point blank, “Hey, I’ve fantasized about this forever, so let me have this please.”

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed feebly, melting like putty in your hands as you grasped his hard member once again, allowing him to tangle his hands in your hair. You loved the way his fingers felt tugging at your scalp, you hoped he was the type to guide your head the way he liked, you found it hot as hell when they took control like that.

You briefly savoured the moment, staring hungrily at his cock inches away from your lips. You could see the tip was dripping precum, there was no doubt he was enjoying your fondling, you couldn’t help but feel a burst of pride at the fact you were having such an effect on him.

Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, you brought your mouth to the head of his dick, starting out with short and sweet kitten licks that made Stan’s hands tighten their grip on your hair, before you thought fuck it, and dragged your lips down his length and sucked. You were rewarded with Stan’s muffled swears and the feeling of his fingers trembling in ecstasy. He tasted mildly of sweat, but you didn’t mind, it just evoked the memory of his heroic battle and badassery from earlier that night. It turned you on immensely. You focused all your attention on using your mouth to get him off, noticing he seemed to really like it when you would bob your head slowly and deeply on his cock, so you put all your efforts into doing so while breathing steadily through your nose. You couldn’t get the entirety of him inside your mouth so you gripped the base of his member with one hand to stroke what you couldn’t reach and the other to massage his balls.

You’d never heard more beautiful sounds than the ones falling out of Stan’s mouth while you sucked him off. As if having read your thoughts from earlier, Stan gently began guiding your head up and down his length using his grip on your scalp. A muffled moan slipped out of you at the sensation of him taking control, though you could tell he was being careful not to thrust too hard.

You liked too that he didn’t hold back his reactions like some men might, he was letting you know just how much he enjoyed your touch, and it was doing wonders for your ego every time he let out another erotic sound.

After a particularly enthusiastic bob of your head, Stan let out a garbled yelp and gently pulled you off of him.

“If you keep that up sweetheart, I’m not going to last,” he admitted sheepishly.

You couldn’t help but grin at that, flattered you had such an effect on him.

“C’mere,” Stan said tenderly, putting a hand out to help you up from your position on the floor, which you gladly accepted. As soon as you were upright again, he pulled you close and kissed you soundly, cradling the back of your head with one hand and wrapping his other arm around your waist so he could dip you like you were dancing the tango. Your noise of surprise was muffled by his lips, you hadn’t expected him to literally sweep you off your feet but here you were, swooning in his arms.

Smooth bastard, you thought giddily, melting into the kiss.

When he eventually put you back on your feet, you were breathless and flustered.

“Have I still got it or what?” Stan said cockily, taking the opportunity to give you that crooked smile that you loved so much and winked at you.

You laughed softly, charmed by his antics.

“Stan?” You replied in a serious tone.

“Yeah?” He answered nervously.

“I need you inside of me like yesterday.”

His eyes darkened at your statement.

“You read my mind, doll.”

Wasting no time, the two of you moved back over to the kitchen table, exploring each other's mouths all the while. You blindly felt behind you for the tabletop to prop yourself up on its cool surface. Once you succeeded, you felt Stan’s warm hands reach around to hold your torso and guide your body to lay flat on the table. He reluctantly broke your kiss so he could hurriedly divest himself of his pants and boxers, revealing at last the entirety of his body to you.

You bit your lip as you admired him, thinking to yourself how lucky you are at the moment to be the one to see the man like this. You knew he had a hard time being vulnerable with those he cared about, so you understood just how special it was that he felt comfortable enough to bare himself to you. And as a bonus you got to ogle his hot bod.

As soon as his pants were kicked away to join the ever growing pile of clothes scattered on the kitchen floor, he positioned himself above you, arms cocooning you and his stomach a comforting weight pressed atop yours.

“You let me know if I do something you don’t like, okay?” He told you sincerely, warm brown eyes searching your expression for any trace of hesitancy.

“Of course,” you replied easily, touched that he still wanted to make sure you were comfortable. He really did have the biggest heart of anyone you knew.

You inhaled sharply as you felt him maneuver his erection to slide against your slit, sending a lightning bolt of pleasure through your body, and making you convulse beneath him. He did this a few more times, gathering your wetness along his shaft and bringing you higher and higher with every movement. You wanted to tell him to quit teasing and get to it already, but you found you couldn’t even form words in your throes of ecstasy. The only things coming out of your mouth were desperate whines that Stan had to stifle with an open mouthed kiss, lest you alert the rest of the house to your activities.

Just when you could take no more, Stan took pity on you and finally filled you up, taking your breath away. You were so wet from his foreplay and your previous orgasm that it only took one easy thrust and he was inside you. You both groaned in unison, sharing in each other's pleasure. It was more magical than any of your fantasies, you felt as though you were fusing into one being, you couldn’t tell where he ended and you began.

Ever the gentleman, Stan gave you a minute to adjust to his girth so as not to hurt you. You were grateful for his thoughtfulness even in the heat of the moment. He was the perfect size, decently thick and hitting all the right places deep inside of you.

It wasn’t long before you whispered for him to start moving, and he gladly complied, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in, sending ripples of heat throughout your body. He moved slowly at first, only starting to intensify his thrusts when you began moving your hips to meet his, chasing the blissful sensation.

To spur him on even more, you planted your lips on the hollow of his throat and began sucking and licking at the skin there, wanting to leave behind a mark as a nice little reminder. You got the impression that you’d found his secret weakness, cause he let out a particularly loud noise, halfway between a whimper and a moan, and his motions increased in tempo.

He had you squeezed tight to his body, you were completely pinned to the table by his weight and you loved it. It made you feel cherished and safe, like nothing bad could happen as long as you were in his arms. You also liked how big he was compared to you, he dwarfed you a good amount and the size difference was such a turn on. Just knowing he could pick you up and manhandle you got you worked up.

The sound of skin on skin filled the room now, the two of you caught up in the moment and each other. It was incredibly intimate, Stan slamming his hips into yours while you gazed into his deep brown eyes full of adoration and hung on for dear life. He was not holding back at all, driving into you with wild motions that had your eyes rolling back into your head and your nails digging into the meat of his back. You got the feeling he was the type to like being marked up, given his reactions to your affections.

You were quickly building to a crescendo, Stan was directly pounding your g spot now, leaving you a moaning mess. You could tell he was nearing his climax as well, he was ferally fucking you at this point, his grip on you almost bruising. His expression was lewd, jaw slack and eyes unfocused, completely blissed out. You were certain you looked the same.

“Stan!” You cried out in warning, you were right on the edge.

“Me too, sweetheart,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Where do you want me-“

“Inside! Please, I’m on the pill, I want you to fill me up!” You cut him off, you wanted it so badly, having him cum inside you was often the subject of your many fantasies about him.

Stan surged forward and captured your lips, your teeth briefly clashing with the force of his kiss. You kissed him back just as hard, your passion fueled by the euphoria rising inside of you.

It only took a few more forceful thrusts to send you to nirvana as you came hard on his thick cock. Your walls convulsing around him sent him over the edge as well as he flooded your insides with hot ropes of cum. You were shaking uncontrollably as he continued to fill you up, pleasure vibrating through every facet of your being. You were pretty sure you even blacked out for a second, it was so intense. Stan kissed you through it as you both shuddered with aftershocks, gently rocking your hips together and prolonging that achingly sweet sensation.

Almost getting eaten by zombies is so worth it if this is what happens afterwards, you thought as you came back down to earth.

You could feel some of Stan’s load leaking out of you as you both lie there, lazily kissing and enjoying the afterglow. Eventually he pulled away slightly and rested his forehead on yours, giving you the softest smile while he brushed your hair from your face with a sweep of his hand.

“How was that? Did I live up to your expectations?” He asked, only half kidding.

“Hmm…” you pretended to think about it for a second.

“I don’t know, guess we’ll have to do it again to be sure,” you replied jokingly, grinning at him in jest.

Stan breathed out a laugh at your little joke.

“I guess so, we gotta be sure after all,” he replied smoothly, playing along.

He pecked a final sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth before lifting himself off of you and sliding out of you carefully.

Link to chapter 4 below

[suugarbabe]

[Chapter 5]

word count: 4.3k

warning: smut, fingering 18+ content MDNI

an: Theo is not mentioned in this chapter and I’m so very sorry but chapter 6 is very Theo heavy so I hope that makes up for it 🫶🏻

You and Enzo had made a routine of apparating to the club together. You had been doing this for about a week before the incident with Monti, but ever since that night Enzo was very firm that you arrive together. The first few days after it happened, he carried a lot of guilt with him for letting you go to the alley by yourself. It took heavy convincing, but you were pretty sure that you were able to convey how much it wasn’t his fault, and that you were glad he was there to help protect you.

Since that night, Mattheo had barely been around the manor. You could count on one hand the amount of times you actually saw him at the manor over the last two and a half weeks. It was more like you heard him more often than you saw him, and most of the time he was yelling. All of the other boys were being yelled at regularly, but Draco seemed to be taking the brunt of it. You weren’t sure if it was because they were family, but it made you feel kind of bad for him.

It really made you upset not seeing Mattheo that long, not really interacting with him. Maybe upset was not the right word, but if you thought too long about it you felt queasy. There was something about the dynamic between you and Mattheo that made you feel one of two ways, either incredibly, seething, fire burning, hell raging mad - or - light headed and butterfly stomach and warm and yearning and pining and wanting so much of him you thought you might physically implode.

You were thinking about all these things as you were doing mindless work getting the bar ready for the night when Pansy walked into the room, mouth running a hundred miles a minute as you heard her pleading with whoever was on the other end of the cell phone pressed to her ear. When her conversation finally ceased, Pansy set the phone down on the table in front of her. Her head was hung low, like she was trying to recenter herself. You looked over at Enzo, who simply shrugged his shoulders.

In the next moment Pansy was screaming with rage as she pointed her want towards the stage nearest her, deep red exiting her wand and the stage effectively exploding in front of all of your eyes. Your mouth was agape, not expecting to ever see this side of Pansy. Enzo only shook his head in annoyance, taking out his own wand and giving it a swift flick, causing the once exploded stage pieces to slowly float back to their original position until it was like Pansy didn’t have an outburst whatsoever.

“What’s the problem, Pans?” Enzo broke the silence, clearly having dealt with this side of Pansy plenty of times before. Pansy let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “One of the main stage dancers is not coming in tonight and I have no one to replace her. You know how particular Mattheo is, he’s going to have a fucking aneurysm over this. Roxy is good, but she can’t do the whole stage by herself.” Pansy leaned her head back, closing her eyes and letting out a few more expletives.

Enzo couldn’t contain his amused smirk, “This is why I’m glad I don’t have your position, Pansy. It is far more easy being me than it is being you.” You scoffed, quickly quipping back, “Yeah until you’re basically dying and whining like a toddler when someone is trying to save your life.” Enzo gasped at you, fake hurt in his eyes. But the interaction managed to put a smile on Pansy’s face, if only for a brief moment. “Really, you guys, I’m not sure what I’m gonna do, I really don’t want to deal with an angry Mattheo tonight.”

You gnawed at your bottom lip, wondering if what you were about to say would be helpful or just start another argument. You really wanted it to be helpful, you wanted to show everyone how valuable you could be in a crisis, prove yourself of sorts. Especially after the last time you were given a task you basically caused them to all have to show their darkest sides of themselves in order to save you. You glanced over at Enzo, knowing that immediately after you spoke your thoughts he would protest.

Enzo’s eyes widened before you could even speak, shaking his head as if he already read your mind; which in fairness was highly possible. Regardless, you turned back towards Pansy, the words flowing from your mouth before Enzo could protest for real, “I could do it.” Pansy’s head snapped up at your words, you quickly reasoning as to why it was a good idea, “I wanted to be a dancer when I first came to the club anyway, I know I can do it. Not to mention I watch the stage every bloody night, I could probably do Roxy’s routine in my sleep. And Roxy and I already have a good relationship so there would be like…chemistry or whatever.”

Once again you managed to make Pansy smile. “That’s brilliant!” She exclaimed at the same time that Enzo barked out, “Like bloody fucking hell you are.” Both you and Pansy turned to Enzo glaring. “Okay, remind me to never be in the same room as the both of you when you’re upset, because this is fucking scary,” he took a step back from both of you, “but I’m serious, Angel, no way. Mattheo would fucking kill you if you went up on that stage.”

You rolled your eyes so hard you head went along with it, “Oh, please Enz, Mattheo would never hurt me, let alone kill me.” Enzo scoffed, “Right right, I forget, you guys have that special relationship.” He emphasized the last two words with air quotes. You narrowed your eyes up at the sandy haired boy, “What are you insinuating?” Enzo doubled down, not breaking eye contact with you, “I’m saying that your relationship is different with Mattheo than any of us. He lets you get away with a hell of a lot more than any other person in this family.”

“Oh, bullocks,” you spat back at him. You were irritated beyond belief, Enzo never spoke to you this way. “Fine,” Enzo held his hands up in surrender, “how bout you just go tell him about your little plan then, hmm? I know he’s here.” You looked over at Pansy who just shrugged her shoulders. Turning back to Enzo you crossed your arms stubbornly, “Fine, I’ll go ask him.” Enzo huffed, “Well fine!” You shouldered past him, “Fine!” He called back at you again, “Fine!” For good measure you threw one more over your shoulder, “Fine!” Pansy covered her face with her hands, shaking her head, “You guys are worse than having bloody children, I swear it.”

You walked with determination back towards Mattheo’s office. With each step the air felt like it was getting thicker, but you urged yourself to keep moving, to prove to Enzo (and everyone else) that while you now worked for Mattheo it didn’t mean that he controlled you. With a flick of your wand his office door swung open to reveal an irritated Malfoy and Mattheo with a satisfied smirk on his face that was less than comforting.

“Can we help you?” Draco sneered, clearly annoyed by the boldness of your intrusion. You stood just inside the doorway, arms crossed. You gave Draco an irritated look before turning to Mattheo, “Pansy said one of the main stage dancers isn’t showing up today, so I’m going to replace her. I know the routine and have a good rapport with Roxy so-”

“No.” Mattheo cut you off with a firm statement. You huffed in annoyance, “Yeah that’s not really an option here, boss, if we don’t find someone to go up there then the club will lose money and I know that you don’t really like that and it’s bad for bus-”

“I said no,” Mattheo’s voice boomed again, “I’ve told you before, Birdie, you are not a dancer. You are a bartender. You are not going to be a dancer, will never be a dancer, under any circumstance. Is that clear?” You glared at him, holding his gaze as your lips formed a thin line. You opened your mouth to protest again but Mattheo flicked his wand, mumbling a quick depulso and pushing you back through the doorway before slamming it shut.

You’re a right git, Mattheo, you said to him. No means no, Princess. Don’t play with fucking fire, Mattheo thought back. You stood outside the office trying to weigh out your options. You were about to lean towards just giving up, when you heard Draco’s voice, “C’mon, what’s the harm, really. It’s just one night, and you know she’s right fit, she’d bring in so much money. She’s right about us losing out with just Roxy up there.” You smiled at a bit at Draco actually being on your side, maybe he wasn’t such a tosser after all.

“Absolutely fucking not, she’s not doing it. I swear to fucking Salazar if she goes on that bloody stage it’s your head, Cousin.” You didn’t have to see his face to know Mattheo was seething and poor Malfoy was on the receiving end of it. The fiery anger in his tone only fueled your own further.How dare he think he can decide what you can and cannot do? You didn’t care if he was the owner of the club, he had no right to tell you what decisions you could make. You were tired of him acting like he owned you.

With a deep breath you walked away from the office door, heart pounding as you made your way back to the bar. You felt like your heart beat was in your head with every step you took, the bass of the music in the club not helping ease this. When you got back behind the bar you closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to try and center yourself. In the time you were in Mattheo’s office a large amount of clientele had appeared, the current dancers working hard to milk them for all their money as Enzo bounced back and forth behind the bar.

As you got to the bar you turned around toward the booze, grabbing the most expensive tequila the club had as you slammed four shots down in front of you.“Y’alright, Angel?” Enzo’s eyes grew wide as you picked up one glass at a time and quickly threw them each back, the alcohol burning your throat in the most calming way. Picking up the last shot Enzo’s large hand enveloped your wrist, “Slow the fuck down, what are you doing? Trying to blackout on the job?”

Your eyes pierced his, a storm of determination brewing behind your pupils, “Enzo, let go of my wrist or I’ll hex your fucking cock off.” He shook his head, stubbornness higher than ever, “No way, Mattheo will have my throat if I let you get fucking sloshed.” You groaned in frustration, rolling your eyes and stomping your foot on the ground like a toddler having a tantrum.

“Why does everyone act like Mattheo is my fucking keeper?” You leaned your head toward the shot, tipping it in to your mouth while Enzo still gripped your wrist. He rolled his eyes at your actions, finally letting go, “Why’re you doing this, Angel? Was I right about the meeting with the good ol’ boss?” You looked toward the stage as the dancer finished up her routine, crawling on her knees and swaying her hips as she picked up the large bills from the stage floor and stuffing them into her bikini top and barely there bottoms.

Enzo followed your gaze, laughing nervously, “Oh no fucking way, hell no. You’re not…no, Angel.” You turned to face him again, pulling off your tank top to reveal your rhinestone bikini top, “Who’s gonna stop me?” You shoved your tank top into Enzo’s chest, walking toward Blaise at the Dj booth to tell him what song you wanted and what stage name to announce. Enzo glanced around the club nervously, praying to Merlin that Mattheo wouldn’t notice, or that at least whatever stage name or song you played didn’t alert him to your little rendezvous.

Enzo stared at you as you walked towards the dancers changing rooms, trying to get you to change your mind, He’s gonna have your ass if you go through with this Angel, you know that don’t you? Entering where the rest of the dancers were you just shook your head, answering Enzo, Let him! You quickly found Roxy, walking up to her and telling her your plan. She gave you a questioning look, but after assuring her that Mattheo would only be upset with you and not her, she helped you get ready, hair, makeup, the works before going towards the main stage entrance.

As Mattheo left his office to find Pansy and talk solutions, Blaise began introducing the next entertainers to come on. Being none the wiser to your plan, he did everything you asked. Flicking a few switches on his sound board the main stage began to illuminate, catching the attention from most of the patrons and earning some whoops and hollers from those that were excited for the main event.

Blaise held his wand to his throat in the booth, doing his introductions, “Please welcome to the main stage your favorite girl R-R-R-R-Rooooxxxxyy,” he drawled out. “And accompanying her tonight is someone new to the stage,” at this Mattheo stopped dead in his tracks. He looked over towards the bar only to find Enzo looking towards the ceiling and avoiding his eye contact. He looked across the club at Pansy, who was holding her hands up in surrender. Blaise’s voice continued, “Let’s give a very warm and wallet generous welcome to…” Blaise paused for dramatic effect, lowering the lights around the stage and putting a small spotlight at where you were about to walk out, “Cherrí.”

The amount of whistles and cheers that occurred when you stepped out into the light was almost deafening. You tried to give your most sultry smirk as you walked toward the pole opposite Roxy. You grabbed hold of the cool steel as you began walking in a slow circle, Blaise putting on the song you requested; Cherry Pie.

You grabbed hold as high at your height would allow as the lyrics began, following Roxy’s typical routine and pulling the bottom half of your body up the pole, hooking your knee around the bar and leaning backwards as it spun, now hanging upside down while you grabbed the pole above you

She's my cherry pie

Cool drink of water, such a sweet surprise

Tastes so good, makes a grown man cry

Sweet cherry pie, yeah

Maneuvering your body around the pole proved to be a lot easier than you anticipated. Following Roxy’s lead you would stay on the pole while she walked and danced around the stage, shedding a layer of clothing here and there and crawling seductively towards the bills that were being thrown on stage. When she walked back toward the other pole, you took a deep breath, knowing it was your turn to do what she called crowd work. You took one last spin on the pole, the whistles from the men directly in front of you fueling your adrenaline along with the song you chose.

Swingin' to the drums

Swingin' to guitar

Swingin' with the bass

In the back of my car

Ain't got money

And I got no gas

But we'll get where we're goin'

If we swing real fast

I scream, you scream

We all scream for her

Well, don't even try 'cause

You can't ignore her

You slowly slid the skirt you wore down your thighs, the man in front of you’s eyes roaming your body like you were his last meal. You shimmied your hips, pulling your skirt down teasingly slow and bending over in front of the men to give them a full view of your arse. Bills flew to the stage as you finally stepped out of your skirt, sinking to your knees and spreading them wide to sit back on your heels. You let your hands roam up your body, over your breasts causing the hanging rhinestones to shake and glimmer in the light, then dragged your hands up and into your hair, throwing your head back as you bounced slightly on your knees.

Crawling on your hands and knees across the stage you were sure to arch your back, swinging your hair back and forth in time with the song, throwing winks at men that looked like they wanted to tear you apart like an animal but instead threw money on the stage. Walking back over to you, Roxy held out her hand, helping you up slowly so your body’s slowly dragged against each other as you stood up, giving the whole audience a show.

The song ended and Blaise turned on an interlude as you and Roxy maneuvered around the stage to grab the bills that were left. As you were picking up some bills while still trying to look sexy and sultry on your hands and knees a man held out a large bill in front of your face. You reached out your hand, but he quickly grabbed your wrist. You were about to protest or even hex whoever it was. But as soon as you saw the tattoos on the fingers that held you all your nerve endings tingled.

Slowly, you looked up. Taking in the sharp black suit jacket, crisp black dress shirt, all to go along with the onyx eyes that belong to Mattheo Riddle. To any average onlooker it would seem like there was a glint of playfulness in his eyes. But you’d seen that look before, many times during your lessons. If this look told you anything, it was that you were going to regret your last few decisions.

His voice was low when he spoke, you almost had to lean closer to even hear him as he grit his words through his teeth, “Office. Now.” It was a command and not one you were going to ignore. You sat on your bum, swinging your legs over the edge of the stage. Despite his rage Mattheo still assisted you. Grabbing your hips, albeit harshly, and lifting you off the stage and setting you down on your feet.

Once standing he gripped your wrist again, leading you to his office like a child about to be scolded. You looked toward the bar, Enzo meeting your gaze and miming locking his lips as if to assure you he didn’t tell the boss on you. Once in his office Mattheo released his hold on you, “Sit.” You walked toward the chair in front of his desk before his voice cut through the silence once more, “Not there. On the desk. Facing my chair.”

You gulped, trying your best to keep your face stoic despite the rising heartbeat in your chest. You walked slowly around his desk, slowly lifting and perching yourself atop. The wood was cool against your bare thighs, Mattheo not even giving you a chance to put more clothes on before dragging you through the club. So there you sat, clad in only your bikini top and thin panties. You tried your best to control your breathing as Mattheo came to stand in front of you.

He gripped each one of your thighs just above the knee, his touch setting your skin aflame. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his hands splayed across your legs, squeezing the flesh as he spoke to you, “Are you proud of yourself?” You tore your eyes from his hands and looked up at him, confusion clearly written on your face. “Oh, don’t play innocent now, Princess. Not after that fantastic performance you gave,” he wore a shit eating grin as your face fell. Mattheo’s grip on your thighs tightened slightly as he spread your legs wide enough to step between them.

“I was just-” Mattheo gripped your throat, effectively silencing you before you could begin. “Ah, ah. It’s my turn to talk, you just get to sit there and listen.” A shiver ran up your spine as his hand that was still on your thigh slid up higher. “You really pissed me off just now, Birdie. Blatantly defying me after I told you no. I told you from the beginning, no dancing, and yet what did you fucking do?” He hung his head, letting out a light chuckle as his thumb kneaded the inside of your thigh, “Do you know why I won’t let you dance, Princess?”

You shook your head the best you could with the grip he had on you. His smirk grew in to a devilish grin as he leaned in close, whispering in your ear, “Because if you’re going to be a slut for anyone, it’s going to be me, and only me, do you understand, Princess?” You nodded, squirming on the desk at his words. Mattheo met your gaze, taking in your current state of desperation, “Do you like that, Princess? The idea that you only get to be the perfect little slut for me?” He slid his hand between your thighs, dragging two fingers along your folds over your panties. He smirked at the dark wet spot that was already forming, pressing his thumb lightly against your clit. You jolted at the contant, a pathetic whimper leaving your throat.

“All this for me, Princess? Or is some of this for all those men throwing dirty bills at you being a whore?” You groaned at the degrading words, shaking your head, “N-no, it’s all for you, Matty. I swear, just for you.” Mattheo growled at the nickname, eyes darting down quickly to your parted lips before meeting your gaze again, “Good, because it’s about time for everyone to know who you fucking belong to.” With the grip he had on your throat he finally brought your lips to his. The kiss was anything but gentle, lips harshly pressed against one another as his thumb started circling your clit again. You whimpered at the action, Mattheo taking the opportunity to allow his tongue to explore your mouth.

As his lips trailed lower, along your jaw and to your neck, his fingers gripped the top of your panties before tugging harshly and ripping the thin material off your body. You gasped and could feel Mattheo smirk against your skin. When he found a particular spot to suck and bite near your collarbone he ran his finger up your folds, coating them in your slick before circling two fingers over your clit. “Fuck…” you moaned out, trying your best to take in all the pleasure you were receiving.

Mattheo’s lips found yours again as he circled his fingers around your hole teasingly, swallowing the whimpers as they left your lips. Without warning he slipped a finger deep inside your cunt, your back arching and bringing your chest flush to his. “Fuck, Princess, you’re so fucking tight, don’t know how you’re ever gonna take my cock when you can barely take a finger,” Mattheo groaned against your lips. You mewled against him, hands gripping the edge of the desk like a vice, unsure if you were able to touch him or not, but too lost in the pleasure you were feeling to try.

He added a second finger, thumb finding purchase on your swollen clit, slowly finger fucking you on his desk. He broke his lips from yours to watch your cunt swallow his fingers over and over as he pumped them into you. “Fuck, Princess, you’re taking my fingers so well. Those other men would die to be in my position right now, but that’s not who you want, is it, pretty girl?” You shook your head vigorously, chest heaving. “Words, gorgeous, let me hear them. Let me hear what I’m doing to you.”

You tried to keep your eyes from rolling in the back of your head and answer him, “N-no, fucking hell-” Mattheo curled his two fingers now with every outward thrust, pushing against your g-spot in the most delicious way no one else every had. The blissful stretch created an overwhelming feeling of pleasure, “Don’t want them, j-just want you.”

You could feel the pressure building inside you, the waves of pleasure clouding your vision. He quickened his pace, his long fingers hitting places you have never been able to reach and sending jolts of electricity through your entire body. His thumb made tight circles over your clit and you clenched around his fingers. “I can feel you clenching around me, Princess. Come on, be a good girl and let go f’me.” It was like his permission was all your body was waiting for as you fell over the edge into your orgasm.

Your vision blurred as you let out a pornagraphic moan, Mattheo continuing to finger you through your high, your legs shaking with pleasure. As your breathing calmed Mattheo slowly slid his fingers from your cunt. He stuck out his tongue, bringing the glistening digits to his mouth before lewdly sucking them clean causing you to clench around nothing.

“I swear to Salazar I can’t wait to fucking devour that cunt of yours,” he grabbed hold of your thighs, gripping them tightly as he captured your lips in another searing kiss. You couldn’t help but moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue. Mattheo rested his forehead on yours, his own chest rising and falling along with yours to catch your breath. “Never forget that you’re mine, Princess.” He leaned back slightly, grabbing hold of your chin. His eyes held an intensity to them as they locked with yours, your breath hitching in your throat as he spoke three final words.

“I own you.”

[merbear25]

Heyyy, it's me again ~ Here to ask again for the Kintober... What about a nice Caesar Clown with the day 16 - Mutual masturbation with a female x reader ~ Have a good day ~ <3

I tried something a little different with this, so I hope you like it. 💜🧡

You’d been working alongside Caesar for a little while now, catching glimpses of what made him tick. The mingling of an unspoken yearning to explore what lied below the surface hung in the air. To take a peek behind the curtain could be to shatter the image you’d built up in your head, although the heat rose within you, itching to let out.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!reader, pining, mutual masturbation, thigh riding, undefined relationship, cumshot

A helping hand (Caesar)

Sneaking peeks at each other, while you worked side-by-side had become a daily occurrence. The tension was palpable, torturous at times. Practically undressing you with his eyes, the subtle hints you gave him that you were interested allowed his imagination to run wild in his loneliest hours.

Self-indulging in the sanctuary of his private quarters started off as a guilty pleasure; images of you being the one wrapped around him, guiding him through his waves of frenzied passion flooded his mind. With time, his fix couldn’t be met. He needed more—you.

One day as the setting sun painted the sky in streaks of oranges and purples, the dying rays peeked through the windows in the lab. They casted themselves on your face for a brief moment, capturing a picture that wouldn’t easily be forgotten.

A flickering gaze landed on him, catching him red-handed. Even with your eyes holding on his, that prickling, tingling sensation spreading over his skin couldn’t bait him into breaking the connection sparking between you two.

With an amorous air filling the space between you, that glint of mischief as you walked out of the room further whetted the appetite that had been plaguing his nights. His steps echoed around you as you journeyed through the hall, closing in by the second until he was right on top of you.

“Yes?” The cool tone fanned the flames of desire raging in him. That calm, yet sultry pull on your expression had his chest heaving from the unbridled zeal harbored towards you.

His lips curled, while he peered down at you. “Are you really going to keep this act up?”

“Hmm? An act?” You feigned innocence.

He chuckled softly. Clouds of white gas swirled around you as his hands were gently placed on your shoulders and his lips grazed your ear. “Come now, it’s written all over your face. You want me just as much as I want you, isn’t that right?” His breath was hot against the side of your face.

Those golden orbs flickered across your face for any indication of what was running through that mind of yours. Swirls of the gas brushed against your exposed skin, making you shudder from the sensation of him getting a taste of what kind of performer you’d be.

The subtle pout you made to suppress a whimper was all the reassurance he needed. His long fingers ghosted your arm, relishing the goosebumps left in their wake. Finding their way to your hand, the gentle squeeze of it gave him a hint of the satisfaction that would soon consume both of you.

Luring you to the sectional sofa, he kept his attention on you the entire time: each twitch of your lips, shift in your emotions served well as an appetizer. Laying back, he spread his legs to sit you down in between them.

“That’s right,” he cooed at you in a low voice. His hands gripped your hips, scooching you closer to him.

There was a brief moment when your eyes met his, but that was quickly replaced with a searing kiss. His thumb pulled down on your chin, giving him entry to explore your mouth. With your kiss deepening, you couldn’t help but lose yourself in the gale force winds of passion. Your fingertips rested on his wrists when his hands cupped your delicate face. Such a tender display and it was testing his restraints more than anything had in a long time.

His tongue dragged up your neck and his moan was muffled against your skin as you quaked under him. You rested your hands on his inner thighs to stabilize yourself, while he nipped and lapped at your neck. Their caress left him yearning for more. As his hips instinctively thrusted against nothing, desperate for some kind of attention, his hands roamed further down your body. 

Each dip and curve was hungrily ravaged by him. In a swift moment, he tugged your dress off. The faint sound of it falling to the floor left you impatient to see more of him, as well. Your hands moved inward and then up his chest, pulling at his clothes.

The sight of your intoxicating allure just inches away from his naked body was nearly too much to bear. His cock twitched from the overpowering carnal urges building inside him.

Your dainty fingers wrapped around the base of him. As you stroked him up and down, the gentleness carried out in your touch was too timid for what he wanted that night. He placed his hand around yours, the sheer size of it engulfing you. His grip tightened to show you exactly how he wanted you to please him. The guided tugs were making him shake. 

Your eyes soaked up the delightful expression on his face, leaving you wanting nothing more than to get lost in the heat of the moment. His eyes rolled back and fluttered shut as your longing gaze held onto him. 

“Just like that,” he murmured.

As your soft skin caressed his full length, the slightly tighter squeeze you added to the tip coaxed a long exhale from him. His golden orbs fell on you, bottomless pools of lust wishing to drag you to their depths. 

You’d been sitting pretty between his legs, lavishing him with all the personal attention he could ask for. That hunger returned to his demeanor soon enough, eating away at his self-control. While you squirmed, your growing need to satiate the appetite gnawed at you. Your hips acted on their own accord, tingling from whatever friction you managed to get. The rubbing of your cotton panties against the fabric of the sofa sent jolts of euphoria throughout your core.

Watching the desperation eat away at you lured a low growl from him. He patted his thigh and grinned down at you. You took your seat on his bare thigh, letting your slick lips nestled behind the fabric press against him.

He flexed it to offer more friction to your needy cunt. A satisfied hum grazed your ears, when you greedily chased your own high. He led your hand to his recently ignored lust for you, not letting you get away with taking all the fun for yourself.

Each shudder of yours that wept onto him fueled that fire raging within. His arm snaked around you, and his hand gripped at the fat on your hip. The way his stare fixated on you sent a thrill pulsating through your core. Your sensitive bundle of nerves dragged over him. The natural lubricant pooling between your legs only added to the tantalizing bliss.

“You’re so beautiful, so mine.” His other hand tangled in your hair as he stole another kiss. Your murmurs of bliss were swallowed by him.

“Love this so much.”

Your admission trailed into his ears, allowing him to absorb all of the adoration you were offering. With each rut of your hips, your grip tightened. He nipped at your bottom lip as his fingers dug into you, and his thrusts became more urgent.

“Give into me, give yourself to me entirely,” he groaned against your tender lips.

The thrill of it all had you teetering on the edge, just about ready to take the plunge. Those crashing waves of euphoria below were all too tempting to hold out much longer.

With choked gasps, you unraveled on his thigh. The pool of arousal between your legs seeped into his skin, branding him with your lust meant only for him. He wrapped his hand around yours to send himself tumbling after you.

The rush of your skin being painted with streams of his pent-up desire caused his body to tremble. Splashes of his seed coated your leg and part of your hip, wrapping around each feminine curve you’d served to him.

The sight of your juices slathered across him and his own white hot passion coiled around you was something he could get used to. Through heavy pants and tired looks, he pulled you on top of him.

Your spent state melted into him, and when he wrapped his arms around you, the feeling that you’d been claimed by him sunk in. The waves of your shared climax settled the longer you held each other. Such passion amongst co-workers was a taboo that you’d originally sworn against, and yet that dark charm of his possessed you to throw caution to the wind. Introducing a dash of spice to the workplace could be fun and there was no one better to indulge in it with than him.

[wannab-urs]

Outtakes - Non-smut Vol 1

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist | Vol 2

Hi friends! Sometimes we want fics that are SFW or we just want to make ourselves sad or we need a little pick me up. I'm here with a list of fics that have no (explicit) smut as of posting! They may have smutty thoughts or mild allusions to smut, but those are marked in the warnings!

I know, me, posting non-smut fics.... but they deserve love too! Note that while many of these are rated T, they are posted on blogs that are 18+ so MDNI <3

Summaries and tags are, in most cases, provided by the author - please be sure to read them as some of these fics may have content you do not wish to read.

Updated 5/24/2024

Whiskey, Dark and Deep - Jack - @prolix-yuy

Summary: In the short time you’ve known Jack Daniels, he’s disappointed you three times. Warnings: M, violence, blood, injuries, gunfights, so so so much yearning, full on cowboy tropes.

A bearable weight - Javi G - prolix-yuy

Summary: New Years Eve is the holiday of new beginnings, and you take a leap to see if Javi might be one of them. Story Warnings: T, plenty of sweetness, more ridiculousness because I can’t help myself, some lightly spicy kisses.

One Hundred and Fifty Seven - Din - @theidiotwhowritesthings

Summary: Din fakes his death for some reason. They leave reader behind thinking he’s dead. Months go by and he returns but reader is like super not okay. Say she’s been super into spice because then she can see Din when she’s high. Anyway, happy ending but loooots of angst please! Also, can it be a bit between him returning and reader being okay with him being back?” Warnings: angst with happy end, drug use, drug addiction, mentions of death, brief canon violence, self loathing, anxiety, self doubt, boba adopts reader b/c i couldn’t resist

In an instant - Joel - @mishasminion360

Summary: Happy Birthday, Joel Miller... Warnings: Um…..😳🙄 (ed. note: I hate to spoil the story, but since this list is intented to help people avoid triggers, I must; Major Character Death (reader), angst, loss of pregnancy)

It would be - Din - @fuckyeahdindjarin

Summary (aka prompt I gave myself): ‘It would be easier if you just married him.’ Warnings: angst, jealousy, fighting, pining, yearning, no use of Y/N

Just Keep Breathing - Javi P - @swiftispunk

Summary: javi finds it harder and harder to keep up with the more physical aspects of his job. reader offers him some love and words of comfort. warnings etc: BODY REPRESENTATION <3 (reader is described as having thicker thighs, a belly, and crow’s feet), smoking + smoking related health issues, hurt/comfort, back massages, fluff, angst, bein in ur 30s/40s, established relationship. probably bad spanish (please correct me). NO USE OF Y/N.

Every Pilot Needs a Wingman - Frankie - @kikis-writing-world

Summary: You have been pining quietly over your neighbor for months. He hasn’t noticed, but apparently his friend has… Warnings: Smutty thoughts - grey sweatpants should be their own warning. Fleeting mentions of masturbation and sex toys. Swearing. Santi gives the reader tips on how to impress/pick up Frankie, I don’t know if that might come off as shady or triggering to people so I want to mention that.

A girl walks into a bookshop - Ezra - @oonajaeadira

Summary: Set a couple of years after the events of the film. Ezra owns a bookshop. You walk in. Warnings: The coziest, softest romance. They do work up to intimacy, but it is sequestered in it’s own chapter–the “Interlude”–which can be skipped without losing any of the story. 

Breathe Through It - Joel - @tommysversion

Summary: you have a panic attack. Joel helps. Warnings: Descriptions of mental health conditions (namely PTSD, but can be read as any anxiety based disorder with panic attacks) / graphic description of a panic attack / some adult language/ references to past trauma (nothing explicitly described but inferred).

A kiss before dying and in death we combine - Joel - oonajaeadira

Summary: When Joel becomes infected, you make the decision not to leave him alone. Warnings: Blood and wounds. Bodily character death. Loss. Love that hurts. Sex of course, but blurred to the edges. Playing fast and loose with the cordyceps and how fast it grows.

102 - Frankie - @tieronecrush

summary: every week, you and frankie meet up at the same spot at the same time to catch-up and share a coffee. you’ve been his best friend for years. through thick and thin, always there. thing is, frankie’s been in love with you for nearly as long as he’s known you and hasn’t worked up the courage to tell you. warnings: no use of Y/N, post-film timeline, au where frankie doesn’t have a kid, use of pet names (solecita, mi mejor), high school level spanish (mostly swear words), unrequited love, self deprecation, alcohol use/drunkenness, smoking

Safe in my arms - Ezra - mishasminion360

Summary: Ezra harbors a secret hatred for his absent arm, but his feelings come to a head when his newly acquired handicap fails to do the one task he vowed never to fail in: keep you safe from harm. Warnings: Language; light angst; feelings of insecurity; body dysmorphia; brief allusions to smut; hurt/comfort; fluff.

Leave Off Your Wandering - Joel - oonajaeadira

Summary: An area native, long-term resident and shepherd in Jackson, you prefer quiet and isolation and the company of sheep. It seems this new resident Joel Miller and his young ward might share your interests. Warnings: M (possible canon violence and language. most likely non-explicit sex further down the line.) (ed. note; no smut as of chapter 2)

Peace - Joel - swiftispunk

summary: jackson era, post-tlou. you and joel discuss what it means to die. warnings: angst and fluff, discussions of death and dying, discussions of sex but nothing too explicit, age difference implied but not specified (joel is older than you but the number of years is not relevant), established relationship. NO USE OF Y/N.

This is me trying - Joel/Ellie platonic!! - swiftispunk

summary: jackson. a flashback on a film reel sparks a memory. joel tells ellie how it feels. warnings: angst, discussions of child loss, discussions of grief and death, ig fluff

Epiphany - Joel - @jksprincess10

Summary: Your new neighbor is a war veteran with a lot of scars. (1k words) Warnings: AU where Joel is in the military, age gap, PTSD, anxiety, insomnia, allusions to smut, suicidal thoughts, sad ending. Beware!! 

Significant - Din - softlyspector

Summary: Din has been calling you riduur for months. You finally find out what it means, and get a little more than you bargained for. Warnings: pining, absolute FOOLS in love, bit of grumpy x sunshine, lil angsty, possibly incorrect lore, fluff, lots of Mando'a (translations for the Mando'a at the end

A pile of cards - Javi P - @undercoverpena

summary: it’s become a tradition. he presents you with a birthday card so you can collect his words, while he collects the expressions you share as you read them. warnings: javi through the seasons, narcos season two/three spoilers. cute, fluff. happy ending.

Fire - Din - jksprincess10

Summary: None Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, this is pretty short, mando still has the crest, canon divergent.

Honeyed - Joel - softlyspector

Summary: You hate being touched, but you might be willing to put aside your discomfort for a tattoo from Joel. Warnings: slow build, no outbreak tattoo!au, reader has issues with touch and is mostly touch adverse, tattoos and getting tattooed (the reader only has one tattoo that is described in any detail), description of a past abusive relationship and a bad experience getting tattooed, insecurity, anxiety, loneliness, implied undefined past trauma with men, Joel gets to have both his daughters in this, you can decide if this is game joel or show joel

The Art of Healing - Marcus Pike - @northernbluess

Summary: Marcus Pike was feeling lost—unfulfilled and unmoored. After a failed marriage, heartbreak courtesy of his ex-fiancée and relocating to D.C., Marcus knew that he needed more than the FBI. Seven years later, Marcus has traded in Special Agent for Doctor and is now a clinical psychologist specialising in art therapy. He combines his two loves of art and psychology, spurred on by his experience in art crimes, FBI psych courses and his own time in therapy. Josephine is referred to Dr Pike, having just been discharged from treatment for an eating disorder. While Dr Pike is fresh to his new career, he is knowledgeable, warm, kind and attentive. Over time, as she bares her soul to him, he falls for her and the bond between them ties both their heads in knots. As her therapist he knows it’s wrong but he begins to feel incapable of separating his feelings from his work. Before long neither can truly live without the other — if only she knew that. Warnings: (warnings will be specified in each individual chapter, however, please read these carefully) Art Therapist!Marcus Pike, eating disorder, therapy, mentions of disordered eating patterns, hurt/comfort, slow burn, lots of pining and tension, angst, age gap, strained familial relationships, so much softness and feelings, eventual smut (ed. note: no smut as of chapter 5 and worth the read up to that point)

The Man That I Love - Joel - @lumoverheaven

Summary: None (ed. note: Joel is an idiot who doesn't know what he has until he almost loses it). Warnings: None (ed. note: angst)

Not Strong Enough - Joel - @beskarandblasters

Summary: Fem!Reader and Joel are in an established relationship, having met shortly after the events in Kansas City. They’re living in Jackson, Wyoming together, post Salt Lake City with Ellie. Things are going well until an incident happens during patrol and Joel questions whether or not he’s good enough. Written in third person. Warnings: angst, feeling inadequate, canon types of violence, swearing, bar fight, Joel is an asshole :/

Do You Love Me - Dieter - me

Summary: here is a fluffy (by my standards) little drabble in the A Ghost of You universe. Can be read standalone Warnings: There's just some kissing and no mentions of anything bad because I'd never do anything bad to D, would I?

Thunder Buddies - Joel - me

Summary: Joel comforting reader who is scared of thunderstorms Warnings: descriptions of a panic attack, Joel being adorable, cuddling, cuteness, a distinct lack of angst or smut - which is really weird coming from me.

Wash Day - Marcus P - @secretelephanttattoo

Summary: Some completely self-indulgent romantic fluff about Marcus Pike washing your hair. Warnings: none

Personal Best - Marcus P - secretelephanttattoo

Summary: This picture of Pedro holding a dog inspired me to write a fluffy meet-cute for Marcus Pike & Reader. I'm feeling 90s romantic comedy vibes, I don't know if I'll write anything more on this but we'll see if people like it. Warnings: none

Context and Perspective - Marcus M - @elvenmother

Summary: The newest member of the Heroics has gone missing and as one of the better-known Villains on the scene, you are blamed. Then your sidekick goes missing. You must go after the Heroic’s leader to try to get them back and clear your name. Warnings: Swearing, mentions of injuries, mentions of blood

A Very Furby Christmas - Joel - @proxima-writes

Summary: it’s christmas eve 1998 and joel miller thinks everything is perfect. well, until his brother admits he didn’t get sarah the one present she wanted - the furby. now, joel has to go out on christmas eve to find the year’s hottest toy that’s been sold out for months. turns out, you’re on the same mission. and you’ve both found the last furby in town. Warnings: pre-outbreak, no use of y/n, holiday/christmas fic, the last toy trope, no smut, age gap - not explicitly specified but joel is 31 and reader is mid-20s, the great miller gingerbread construction competition, operation get sarah miller a furby, some kissing.

The Haunting of Dieter Bravo - Dieter - @idolatrybarbie Summary: "ghosts aren't real, except when they are." Warnings: referenced substance abuse, mentions of alcohol, dieter is sober, one song-based joke (please get it plsplspls), reader is gender neutral, a good ol' haunting tale.

The Locksmith - The Thief - oonajaeadira

Summary: A Thief you’ve known for years and have conflicting feelings for brings you a gift. The gift is a not only a puzzle in itself, but part of a larger mystery, one only you can crack. Warnings: reader is an adult, reader is AFAB, no physical descriptions of reader

A Piece of Cake - Frankie - idolatrybarbie

Summary: It's been a long time since you've seen Frankie Morales. Warnings: Angst, discussion of addiction, mentions of cocaine, alcohol consumption, bowling

The Parents That Are Left - Joel - @frenchiereading

Summary: There weren't many patrol partners Joel Miller tolerated: his brother and Iris. On a cold January day, Joel pays her mother a visit and finds out you can bond over anything. Unfortunately. Warnings: canon-typical violence and language, heavy angst, talks/mentions/descriptions of death and dead bodies, heavy discussions/thoughts of feelings/grief/guilt, suicidal thoughts, alcohol consumption, Jackson-era Joel, no reader, no y/n, OFC, not a single ounce of romance

For the Love of Horror - Dieter - @coulsons-fullmetal-cellist

Summary: Dieter and you watch a scary movie. Warnings: No use of y/n, horror movies, euphemisms, fluff, suggestive language

Stages of Grief - Joel - @bonezone44

Summary: After a tense interaction with a family member who raised you when you were little, you spiral. Joel talks you through it. Warnings: Gender neutral reader, familial trauma, angst, grief, neglect, trauma, childhood emotional/physical abuse

The Riding Lesson - Jack - @bluestar22x

Summary: When you are hired at a ranch as a trail guide, the owner asks the foreman to teach you how to ride Western style. Warnings: Suggestive thoughts, sexual tension, equestrian terms

Frankie and Din - Frankie/Din - @avastrasposts

Summary: a one-shot with our favourite pilot, sweet Frankie and our favourite space boy, broody Din based on the line; "Go on then, space boy, fly this.” Warnings: none

Light Only Shows You Where the Shadow Are - Max Phillips - oonajaeadira

Summary: The only thing that can get rid of a minor jerk is a major jerk. Warnings: Non-consensual attention (not Max), stalker behavior (when there’s trouble, Max always seems to be watching from nearby), vampire violence.

It's always been you - Dieter - @alwaysmicado

Summary: After a year of dating Dieter Bravo, you are forced to face reality. All good things must come to an end, right? Warnings: angst, age gap (unspecified), swearing, brief mention of p in v sex, brief mention of disordered eating and suicide, mention of black eye, toxic relationship, drug use, reader's coping mechanisms are unhealthy

John Wayne - Joel - @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Summary: twenty years after the world ended, you find yourself face to face with Tommy Miller. The brother of the man who was your boyfriend at the time of the outbreak. Warnings: talk of attempted suicide, child loss, grief, angst

illicit affairs - Joel @chaotic-mystery

Summary: it’s my take on what illicit affairs means. Every time I listened to it I imagined Joel, specifically dbf Joel. I hope the swifties go *easy* on me and pls don’t say anything if you didn’t like it. Warnings: angst. And more angst. Swearing, forbidden relationship, arguing, fwb, alluded age gap but not specified. Use of nicknames (kid, baby……don’t look at me ok I didn’t do IT), reader is not physically described, no use of y/n.

Stay Close to Me - Jack - @alwaysbethewest

Summary: You're a rookie agent sent to work undercover with Jack as a married couple!Fake/undercover marriage! Statesman casefic! Warnings: A little romance, kissing, coarse language, very mild peril and hurt/comfort, and a splash of alcohol. Reader is a junior agent and has some muscle but otherwise no physical/age descriptions. As with any good Kingsman fic, my first step was to disregard half of canon, so this is either pre-movie or an AU.

To Know the Light - Din - @burntheedges

Summary: to go in the dark with a light is to know the light. Warnings: fluff, a teensy bit of angst, introspection, winter, food mention, reader has no description, gn!reader

O, Christmas Tree - Dieter - @covetyou

Summary: As PA to Dieter Bravo, you were used to the strange, unusual and downright weird. What you weren't used to was taking in a shipment of - what? And how many? Warnings: sex toys (so many butt plugs), Dieter being a menace to his PA, no smut, pure silliness.

In Fiction - Dieter - @sin-djarin

Summary: Dieter comes to bed. Warnings: Established relationship, mentions of self doubt, no physical description of reader, no dialogue, no use of y/n.

The Serpent Under It - Dave York - @brandyllyn

Summary: Dave is very good at his job Warnings: Canon typical violence. kinda dark yo, soulmate AU

I'll Leave a Light On For You - Max Phillips - oonajaeadira

Summary: Max has reservations when it comes to love, and for very good reasons. Warnings: Angst. Character death. Allusions to the atrocities of war and its lasting effects. Max is a vampire. Traumatic soul memory. Me assuming I know anything about French culture of the 1930s.

Cocoon - Joel - secretelephanttattoo

Summary: A short ode to Joel's coat. / a bath with Joel Warnings: Angst and intimacy. 1 reference to blood and allusion to canon typical violence (nothing is described)

Home - Frankie - @dancingtotuyo

Summary: Frankie always comes home to you. Warnings: fluff, angst, girl dad!frankie, recovering!Frankie, references to drug use, references to violence, trauma, healing.

Negotiations - Max Phillips - prolix-yuy

Summary: Max Phillips never found marketing to be all that helpful. Hell, running an ad on Facebook was easy enough. But then you walked in the door and he knew he had to have you, in all the ways he could. Warnings: T, descriptions of male and female bodies, some fantasizing and suggestive themes.

sweets for my sweet; sweets from my sweet - Ezra - @tinytinymenace

Summary: you are a cook at an exploration camp and one of the miners asks you about Earth and brings you a treat Warnings: Brief mentions of planet death (RIP Earth) and strained family dynamics but on balance this is soft.

Caught Kissing Santa - Dave York - @wildemaven

Summary: Alice saw you kissing Santa Claus Warnings: reader is married to Dave and stepmom to his kids, mentions of food and drinks, non-religious Christmas celebrations and Santa beliefs, alluding to sexy time but no smut, kissing, mentions reader is wearing pajama pants, fluff, soft Dave, one use of ‘good girl’.

Unwind - Dieter - @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Summary: Dieter helps you unwind when you get your period after an already long day. Warnings: established relationship, reader menstruates, drug use (marijuana), reference to past drug use, reference to bad horror movies, Dieter being our favorite trash panda, sweet, fluff, domesticity

One Night - Marcus P - secretelephantattoo

Summary: You get one night with Marcus Pike. Warnings: Implied/referenced smut but nothing is explicitly described. Smoking and alcohol. Angst because they only have one night together. Marcus is a flirty menace. House party nostalgia. Heavy petting in a stairwell

Lovesick - Joel - prolix-yuy

Summary: You've been greedy for Joel for too long. Warnings: descriptions of wound care and blood, allusions to dubcon due to drinking and drug use, no actual smut

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

Happy Reading!

[voltrixz]

Ok gathering my thoughts. I liked venom 3, it was fun. Tbh it might be my fave? But tbh I need to rewatch it.

Thoughts under a read more, SPOILERS BTWW

Ok starting off I kinda liked the side characters ok although I do agree with the sentiment that they take too much acreen time. Especially that one scientist's backstory?? It like barely mattered and was also kinda nonsensical?? (Like why where u near the beach when it was like. Clearly looking like a storm hello????)

Also why was the other scientist made fun of for liking christmas or whatever??? Huh??? But eh I liked the fact she helped venom and layer got her own symbiote (BUT ARGH THEN THEY KILLED HER SYMBIOTE!!!)

Also the family they were nice and all but like. I dunno i don't think we needed all of them considering the lil kid was rhe one eddie connected to the most (the "you would have been a good father" SOMEONE SHOOT ME.) (Also fuck dude I thought that was teasing sleeper but no. Argh.)

Another big thing. I did think some of the eddie/venom moments were good, it felt like they regressed their relationship again 😭😭. Like fuck man, eddie was such a bitch sometimes while venom was yearning and pining HARD ARGH and argh. I feel like. They really toned down the queerness in some parts, obv they're weren't gonna kiss or fuck but MAN. NOT EVEN AN "I LOVE YOU" and likem they were advertising symbrock so hard and like man.

HOWEVER. THE MAIN PART I RLLY JUST ARGHH. The fact eddie was not as nearly distraught of venom dying as he would have been. Like he moved on so fast??? He went "but I need him" and then bam off and away with that fuckin montage????? Like dude. Show me this guy struggle to live without him, HE LOST A LITERAL PART OF HIMSELF. Also dude. He should have said something more when he saw what venom was trying to protect him and sacrifice himself. Make him bang on the glass, make him maybe even try to get venom to reconsider it. LIKE ARGH WHERE IS THE EMOTION!!

if ur gonna give me angst, GIVE ME UR BEST SHOT NOT SOME WEAK ASS SHIT

[allwaswell16]

A One Direction fan fic rec of arranged marriage fics where Harry must adapt to a new life as requested in this ask. All the fics I could find that fit the criteria were H/L fics. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

✦ The Murmur of Yearning by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics

(M, 93k, widow Harry) Four years ago, Harry Styles was forced into a marriage of convenience to enrich and ally both his and his promised's families. 

✦ Ace of Spades by @allwaswell16

(E, 78k, a/b/o) Louis is a pirate, Harry is his captive, and no one is who they say they are.

✦ Here's Your Perfect by @brightgolden

(E, 54k, a/b/o) In the world where mates are assigned to everyone and deposited to their door when an agreeable partner is found for them, Alpha Louis has recently been given his.

✦ Just for Tonight (I can be yours) by @sadaveniren

(E, 42k, a/b/o) Harry, prince of Cestrescir, has been betrothed to Ludvic, prince of Yorvik, since birth.

✦ the sanctity of patience by @scrunchyharry

(M, 22k, historical au) When young Lord Harry was chosen by King Louis of Bavaria to become his husband and prince consort, Harry thought all of his dreams had come through. 

✦ daisies & dying by xaz

(E, 14k, forced marriage) Hades!Louis and Persephone!Harry but make it pirates

✦ Trust Me Tonight by 28sunflowers / @vintageumbroshirt

(E, 10k, royal au) Harry doesn’t know what happens on his nuptials, or how to get pregnant to give Louis the heir that he needs.

✦ Make It Work by fanshae 

(M, 10k, a/b/o) Arranged marriage AU. Harry is an omega who has reached the age where he must be married due to his family's income status. 

✦ fallin' all in you by insufferablelovebirds

(NR, 9k, royal au) Princes Louis and Harry pine and their sisters give them a needed nudge.

✦ My Sun and Stars, Moon of my Life by @ohharold

(M, 7k, Game of Thrones au) Harry was used to the luxuries of Kings Landing and then Pentos but when his brother is desperate for the crown he is entitled to, Harry must be part of an arranged marriage to a ruthless Khal of a Dothraki tribe.

✦ A Silver Lining In A Storm (You Were Lightning, I Was Born) by @fallinglikethis

(E, 7k, a/b/o) Omega Prince Harry had always known that he was going to have an arranged marriage. 

✦ You All the Time by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 2k, fluff) At age sixteen, Harry knows that his parents have found him a husband to marry.

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Saturday Fandom :) Wanted to post links to the last few I know they came over the holidays in case anyone missed them. The master list has also been updated. 4x22 , 5x01, 5x02

We’ve reached our yearning era and I’m here for it. This one may not have a ton but it’s just enough that at we were all dying for more. I was so excited to be an era where very aware of their feelings but couldn’t be together yet. Good stuff. Let us proceed shall we?

5x03-Dye Hard

We jump one month into the future. Because Lucy has gone to UC school. So our couple has been apart for some time at this point. Making that longing extra intense. Lucy arrives home to a surprise party of sorts. She's just returning home from UC school. Tamara and Chris welcome her back with mustaches. I love how excited she is Lucy is back. Always take some cute hugs with them. She tells Lucy the she has to head to school but wants to hear all about it tonight. I love them so much.

Leaves us just the clown and Lucy. Bleh. She asks him how he’s doing? Says he’s doing ok. Typing is still hard but he’s glad to be back at work. Was going crazy on the couch. Tells her there’s something else that’s been helping him more. An online group trying to hunt Rosalind. Kinda like the one she was apart of for Aaron’s case back in 4x16. Lucy doesn’t look excited about this idea. He says they contacted him few weeks ago. They call themselves Dye Hards.

Hence the name of the episode. That their research is actually impressive. They compile all their credible tips in an encrypted document. Called the ‘mother doc.’ Lucy’s face is screaming how much she hates all this. But instead of reading her like he should he presses her further. Because it’s Chris…never respects any boundaries she’s putting up but sure man keep going. Force her to read about the one person who sets her PTSD off like no other.

Just so you can have some peace of mind…grumble….Dislike him so very much. Lucy tells him how not healthy this is. (It really isn’t…) That she’s just a patrol officer. He whines about how the task force is ignoring him. Of course they are ya putz. It's why he’s dragging her into this. I hate this very much. Lucy gives in and says she’ll give his doc a look. That good ole guilt driving her decisions about him some more. Smh.

Roll call starts out with Grey congratulating Lucy. She successfully passed UC school. Telling everyone that is no small feat. Look at Tim ever the proud husband. That look alone says everything you need to know about her crushing it. The soft looks in his eyes. That soft gaze he only reserves for her. *sigh* Oh pining era you are lovely.

Lucy trying to contain her emotions about all of it. Grey calling her out and congratulating her. Tim looking at her like she hung the moon and stars. Couldn’t be more telling if he tried. She can’t even look at him. Just messes with her thermos. Lucy not really knowing how to react to the attention. Especially Tim’s…She just nods and hopes they move on.

Aaron and Lucy come out of roll call together. Lucy is congratulating him on making P2. Lucy also commends him on being a good aide for Tim. Aaron is very aware of Tim and Lucy. Maybe not everything but enough to offer stepping back. Then asks Lucy if Tim said he’s doing a good job? Lucy says no…that she made that last part up LMAO

Reminds me of 1x02 when Wrigley did the same to her. Thinking she got praise from Tim early on. Only to be crushed by the fact that he hadn't...Yeah you gotta really earn that Tim Bradford praise Aaron lol His reaction to that fake news is hilarious. Lucy can't lie and has to let him know no such praise has happened. Sorry my man.

Lucy follows it up with he hasn’t replaced him yet LOL I mean that’s a lot coming from Tim. If he wasn't happy he would've traded him away like baseball card. Lucy adding on 'So he’s…happy.' As happy as one could be without his person by his side sure. This next bit it sticks in her throat a bit as she says it.

Telling him he should stick with him. Obviously killing her to be to be apart from him. To pass up taking being his aide once again. But she wants to keep the distance up. For the same reasons as 5x02. Hurts too much to be around him when she can’t be with him. The pining era is so good for these moments. Aaron asks if she’s sure? Because she doesn't seem sure...

Only they could have such immense chemistry with an intense stare. One that is across the room from each other BTW. The longing is palpable af. Angsty goodness right here. Also those are some smoldering bedroom eyes for Lucy. My god idk how she could function after him looking at her that way. Would make me hot under the collar good god. That man wants her back in his shop. But we know that isn’t happening anytime soon.

So much pining and tension with just one look good lord. His stare does end up affecting her. Her breath hitches a little when they make eye contact. She stammers a little in her advice to Aaron. I love how they find each other those across a room. That magnetic pull only they understand. It’s automatic no matter what’s going on. Lucy rambling on about needing some quiet time anyways..You know for her next steps in her career...

More like Tim thinking time. Let’s be real. I love how the entire time she’s just staring at Tim. Spending most of their conversation just staring right back. Even when he’s looked down. She misses him so much. That is very evident in this moment. When she finally breaks off her longing she notices Aaron looking at his phone ha Not even paying attention to her anymore. Making a sassy comment that he hasn't even heard a word she's said. He apologizes and says he has to deal with something personal.

We start out with Tim and Aaron. Tim feeling extra surly after seeing Lucy. Much worse getting to be that close and not really getting to see her. So Aaron is on thin ice when Tim sees him buried in his phone. He apologizes and says he’s having person problem. Tim saying this is a ‘personal life free zone.’ Ha! Not since Lucy Chen entered your life it isn’t…

Aaron tells him it could derail his career. Tim sighs and that little bit of Lucy’s influence comes out. He asks him what it is? Aaron going on about a dating site. Using a thirst trap LOL Tim’s reaction is too damn funny. ‘I wish I didn’t…’ Look at our softie helping Aaron with his problem.

He goes on to tell Tim he was cat-fished and now the dude is blackmailing him. Tim is confused saying he thought the pic didn’t show anything? We find out this guy has photoshopped something worse. He shows it to Tim and I’m dying. ‘Could’ve been worse…At least he was generous. LMAO Oh Timothy I love you so.

We catch Lucy riding solo. She sees a homeless man go into an abandoned building. Calls it in saying she going to go look for squatters. She calls back in after she’s finds nothing. Saying she is Code 4. That is before she notices a freezer open with wallets in it. The man she followed in traps her in the old walk in freezer. Thankfully it’s out of commission. Unfortunately it blocks her radio signal. Leaving her trapped there with no one to tell she is….You can tell she wants to shout a whole lot of expletives above ha

Aaron gets contacted by his catfish. He wants a PS5 and delivered to his apt. Tim is so funny in this scene. Saying oh good he’s a dumbass LOL Giving up his location and needing something they can obtain on the way. Aaron doesn’t want to give in but Tim makes a good point about the photo. It’ll be in police evidence and he doesn’t want that ha. Aaron says good thing he has a gamer connection in K-Town. Tim shaking his head not shocked in the least about this. Of course he does...

Poor Lucy tries once again to get ahold of dispatch but to no avail. She has to try and talk her anxiety down. I would be doing the same thing to try and relax. Telling herself that at some point there will be a welfare check. (Well Tim will for sure…) She can’t do anything until that point. So she pulls out her phone and starts reading that mother doc the clown sent. Lucy is too funny as she reads these messages.

I love her talking to the smiley face on the freezer LOL She is so adorable I cannot stand it. Then she stumbles upon someone making sense. As she reads it aloud something clicks in her brain. A saying Rosalind told Nolan a long time ago. The 5 star meal comment. Lucy starts to get restless again. Jumps up and starts banging on the door for help again.

They show up to the address and it’s a teenager..he just wanted a PS5. I love how stern and authoritative Tim is with this kid. Saying bad behavior doesn’t get rewarded. Mmm no it doesn’t. Idk why that does it for me with Tim but it does. It’s yum tum city and I am a resident. They get the kid to delete the photo and take down the profile. He says they suck when Tim takes the PS5. Cracks me up he keeps it for himself. I love this man so very much haha

We return to the shop and Tim’s Lucy radar is going off. Aaron’s going on about the kid still but Tim’s mind is elsewhere. He has Lucy on his brain. Has that panicked look he reserves only for her going on. He asks Aaron the last time he heard Chen on the radio? He replies he can’t remember…maybe like hour or two ago? Let me start with I adore him waiting to hear her voice on the radio. Then noticing he hasn't in awhile.

How he keeps track of not hearing from her in some time. Tim knows she’s solo today. You know that man was subconsciously keeping track of her in the back of his mind. Some serious married vibes here my love. This definitely doesn’t line up with the 'moving on’ you were talking bout in 5x02. When Aaron says least 2 hours worried Tim arrives. He’s freaking out something has happened to her.

I’m sure he’s also thinking if she was riding with him this wouldn’t be happening. But she isn’t…Tim contacts dispatch about her. They say it’s been over two hours. Angry/protective Tim also joins the party. Welcome sir nice to see you. Telling dispatch they’re gonna talk about that later. Phew lord. You know that man is going to destroy dispatch over this. Hell is going to rain down on them for not keeping track of her. For now he just wants her location to check on her. Needs to get his worried husband portion to settle first.

Once they’ve arrived he calls out her name a couple times. Lucy finally hears him and bangs on the door. Then comes a DELICIOUS shot of his arms/forearms. My god it’s like they’re trying to make me a puddle. The definition in his arms as he pulls that door free.* fans self* god that man is in shape. Mmm Legit drooling as he pulls on that door. Forearm porn AND biceps shot. I’m a happy girl. Like hot damn that is a thirst trap of a shot above.

He gets the door to finally pop open. Also nice thigh/bootie shot of him as well. I'm not mad about it. Asking her how she is? So very worried about her. Unfortunately Lucy is not in the frame of mind to receive it. Just tells him she has a lead on Rosalind. Not the response he was expecting…He asks 'What?' anyways. She tells them about the message boards Chris has been on. Filled with arm chair detectives. Tim asks her if they found her? She says no she thinks one of them is her.

The Feds get brought in cause Chris’s dumbass has been talking to her. Feeding her stuff about him and the investigation going on. Because well it's Chris. Can’t read Lucy when she’s being obvious af so why would he notice this? Lucy is sweet and tells him he didn’t know. I on the other hand am like dumbass LOL He asks if he should set up a meet. Yes Chris, she’s a highly intelligent psychopath she wouldn’t see through that at all…

Garza saying Cyber crimes is now involved. They’re going to try and track her through her IP address if possible. Chris is feeling like the dummy he is. He leaves the meeting upset. I’m a bad person enjoying this lmao I mean Tim would’ve been Lucy’s real target but he was in Vegas with her. She knows that’s her fierce protector. So he was the next I was gonna say best thing but that’s not true. But closest thing that would rattle her.

Tim and Aaron arrive at the station and there is posters everywhere. Everyone is laughing. Of course Smitty has them and is glowing over it. I mean Tim did pick Nolan over him for union president. So of course he is enjoying this. It's of Tim photoshopped naked with a cupcake covering him up OMG. Tim is seeing red. I don’t blame him. Just when they thought their catfish was over he pulls this. Clearly pissed at Tim for taking the PS5 and lecturing him.

They arrive at Pavi’s house with the felony papers. Tim saying he can file these today. Or he could use his skills for good. James needs someone to teach computer literacy at the center. That if is does this twice a week he’ll shred them. Otherwise he has 18 months to file these. He’s a little snot and throws Tim’s words about electronics back at him. Tim says he’s lucky Aaron believes in second chances. His mom calls him and he says to text him the details. I love Tim leaving Aaron hanging for his fist bump LMFAO. He does tell him they did good though so that’s something. Aaron has to fist bump himself ha.

Lucy gets to join the task force with the FBI. They’re headed to Seattle where the IP was traced. Lucy looks like an absolute bad ass in OP gear. A determined look on her face. They make it inside and find two bodies…sadly the homeowners. Psycho worked out of their house and just left their bodies there as she did. She is a one sick cookie. Lucy sees her message written in blood on the wall. She is long gone.

Not a ton in this one but what we did get was real good. Plus I always enjoy Tim/Aaron time they have a good dynamic. Fun to watch them together.

~~~

Side notes-non Chenford

Intro of Celina Juarez. I wasn’t sure about her at first but ended up adoring her. Just like Aaron. Good job writers haha

Did love Tim tearing Nolan a new one about Celina bad stop. Was sexy af. Maybe shouldn’t have been a turn on but it was LOL

Thank you as always to you lovely readers. Wouldn’t be here without your likes/comments and reblogs ❤️ see you in 5x04 :)

[crownofstardustandbone]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💖

Hello love, thank you so much for sending this!!

First up is a story I wrote not too long ago "Mercy Mercy Please (The Monster in Me)" which is a Theo x Liam Teen Wolf fic that is an enemies to hate fuckers to lovers story with 20k words of dirty, nasty, kinky dub-con hate fucking lol I love this one so much because I haven't written this dynamic before and these two are just PERFECT for it.

Next up is "Prussian Blue" which is a Clark x Bruce superbat story in which Bruce gets irradiated to lethal levels and Clark frantically tries to find a way to stop him from dying, while also being forced to confront the depths of his feelings for Bruce. I love this one because it's angsty (big surprise LOL), but also because of the relationships I built between Clark and Alfred, and Clark and Bruce--I think they're well characterized and engaging. Plus I did a SHIT TON of research into the acute effects of radiation sickness and the treatments for it, which is where the title comes from--Prussian Blue is a pretty standard treatment for radiation poisoning!

My next one I'll talk about is hands down my favorite thing I've written in the last few years because it's so unbearably tender. "Ribs Cracked Open, A Home Made Within" is a Geralt x Jaskier story that came about because I had this idea that with his extra mutagens, Geralt would probably be hypersensitive to the point of pain, and wondered what that would look like within canon. I also really wanted Geralt to be handled with care and affection and tenderness because we never really see that in canon, and when someone is so hurt by the world and so self loathing, I desperately crave stories where they get to be treated tenderly.

Next is "Handful of Aces, Pocketful of Nines" which is a Holden x Bill Mindhunter story that came about after a rewatch while I was high and had my brain go galaxy mode and see them as a ship 😂This story follows canon and is filled to the brim with yearning, internalized homophobia, and so much angst it'll break your heart! I love this one because it's got so many tropes that I adore, and I think is a very compelling story of two people who don't know how to love each other, but also don't know how not to love each other.

Finally, is "Unbroken" which I consider to be my Steve x Tony magnum opus lol This story is my baby--I spent two years writing it, during which time I was in grad school, working full time, doing an internship and trying to get homework done. It's angsty and full of pining, hurt/comfort, whump, and all the other tasty tropes that I adore. It's a complicated story about a complicated relationship--Steve is found in the ice during Tony's childhood and comes to live with the Starks where he serves as a friend and protector for Tony. Tony loves him, and when life intervenes, they're married to protect Tony from being given to Obie--but that doesn't mean things get any easier. I do honestly think that this is the best thing for stony that I ever have and ever will write, and I hope more folks give it a shot despite that underage tag lol

[lahooozaherr]

I Will Always Find You

Chapter 4

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: angst, fluff, yearning, pining, shooting a blaster with Mando (aaaaaay) vague description of dress on reader (listen, I said it was “traditional Naboo” dress but I don’t know if such thing exists I just love that dress Padme wears by the lake lol but I’m leaving it as vague as I can incase y’all want to imagine something else, I only describe having an open back) (wanted to give Mando some skin, ok), reader runs hand through hair and has strand brushed away but no actual description of hair, Din tries to not have sexy thoughts lol

MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI. AGELESS/BLANK ACCOUNTS WILL BE BLOCKED.

My tag list (instructions & requirements)

Summary: You and the Mandalorian spend part of your “hooky” day relaxing in a place special to you. Later, he helps you get ready for the festival. Both of you are full of conflicting emotions as realizations surface and the end of the week looms.

A/N: Welp, this is getting done later than I intended. I recently visited my grandpa who is in the dying process. I had a good weekend with him and my family and tbh I thought I would be writing/reading in my spare time then but it didn’t end up happening, but that’s ok! I was able to come up with more things I wanted to add to it before so I hope everyone enjoys it. I promise we’re getting close to the smut lol I just have story building I gotta do. Also, I realized I already messed up the timeline I was trying to work with so look forward to me fixing that when it becomes more relevant. And by timeline I mean, it def takes more than a week between this and the flashback opening of the first chapter, so I’ll edit that. I’ve also been doing my best to leave reader and some other things as vague as I can but if that starts to sound weird pls tell me, I just want anyone reading to be able to see themselves in this. I also fixed the series master list banner since I kept have nagging feelings about the pictures I originally chose lol.

Song Inspo: Unfair by The Neighborhood

Inspo Playlist

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Read it on AO3

Din only really has himself to blame for getting himself in this position, he tells himself.

He was almost immediately mesmerized by you, and he let his heart and not his mind take the reins. That was mistake number one.

He went from experiencing loss, trying (and failing) to cope with that grief, to here. With you. He knows he has to face his feelings, because meeting you has flipped his inner world upside down. 

Every night he leaves you, images of you replay at the forefront of his mind’s eye. At first he’d brushed it off, chalking this up to some playful banter with a bored princess. But then he entertained it, learned more about you, watched you, and found himself enchanted by you. 

Somehow you had made your way through the cracks of his armor. Not exactly his Beskar, but the one he built around his heart. 

He hasn’t slept much tonight, opting to use this time to reflect and at least try to gather himself. He can no longer ignore what you do to him. How the sound of your voice has become music to his ears. How your touch sends electricity throughout his body from your delicate squeezes in the spaces of his arm that are not covered in Beskar. The way your eyes almost always find his own, despite the helm covering.

When he saw you help that lost child, when you opened up to him about your own mourning and conflicted emotions about your position, he almost snapped. Something possessive, or maybe more so protective, wanted to wrap himself around you. Prevent you from having to do this anymore. He could tell you didn’t want this. Maybe you wouldn’t say it, and he couldn’t out loud, but he could feel it.

He doesn’t know what to do with his own life and hasn’t for a really long time. Now, he’s coming to terms with his feelings, and desire, for you. 

But the life he leads isn’t a life for you. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself. This life is dangerous…..and lonely. He knows he couldn’t ask you to become his just as much as you can’t, or won’t, abandon your position. It’s easier to accept that answer over the latter.

He’s let this go too far, but he can’t help it. You bring something out in him that he tried to forget he had. It’s like he simultaneously knows he can’t make you his, and that’s he’s too scared to. Which is saying a lot; a Mandalorian afraid? But not just over anything. Over experiencing that kind of love and then losing it. He can’t go through that, on top of the rest, it’s too much. 

Yet Din ignores his instincts and indulges in you. He wishes your affectionate glances were reserved for only him, and no one else. 

Catching you yesterday was almost the final straw, taking every fiber of his being to not rip away the garment bag that separated your bodies. His helmet picked up on the wild thrum of your heartbeat; and maybe he wasn’t certain how you felt but it had to mean something, right? Even if neither of you can say it. 

For now, he will force himself to settle for what he has with you until this job is done. 

—————————————————————————

“Mando?”

Din is wrenched out of his head, coming back to himself. Both of you are on a small boat steered by a droid, him across from you. He must have been lost in his thoughts on the short sail to the area you spoke of. 

You wave a hand across his helmet’s eye-line, “hey, are you in there?”

He cocks his helmet, turning back to you, “where else would I be?”

You let out an amused huff but your eyes search his helmet, concerned but observing. Returning your hand back to your lap, “is something wrong?”

“No, Cyare.”

Your face heats up, looking away quickly thinking he wouldn’t notice. It brings him instant satisfaction, the way he flusters you sometimes. The boat comes to a stop as you stand to gather the basket you brought with you. 

“One of these days, I’m going to find out what those names mean.”

Din carefully stands in the boat, stepping over the side to the dock as it approaches, “you can sure try.”

Although, the thought of you finding out has Din’s face heated, another moment to be thankful for the helmet. 

He steps up onto the dock, connected to the other side of the lake you departed from. An expansive field full of greenery and flowers, surrounded by a forest in the short distance. It was tranquil and private, just like you had described to him. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” You remark, maneuvering your way out of the boat until his hand drops in front of you, offering help. You stop first, looking up to him to smile before taking it. His strong arm helps lift you out of the boat, effortlessly.

“I would come here to just be alone,” you continued on as you adjusted the basket and yourself. You decided on wearing a simple set of a tunic and leggings for this portion of the day, saying you’ll change later. The combination hugged your body’s curves in a way the dresses didn’t and Din certainly didn’t mind. 

He mentally scolds himself for wandering towards such thoughts. 

He follows you as you trek through the field, heading deeper towards trees that provide shade. Picking a spot, you drop the basket and plop down next to it. Sighing and stretching your legs before settling to lean against a tree, you close your eyes and inhale. Din lowers into the spot next to you, facing the view. 

Several quiet moments pass before you speak up again, “my mother found this place.” This caused Din to look at you, waiting for you to say more. You look into the sky, tightening your lips, not quite smiling and not frowning either.  

“It means a lot to you,” Din states. At this point he could tell how sentimental certain things were to you, he has very few things like that for himself. 

“It’s special to me, there’s a lot of good memories here. Time spent with her, many books….the first place I learned how to shoot a blaster.”

Din snorts before he realizes he’s even done it, you smile, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“You? You can shoot a blaster?” He teases, emphasizing the first ‘you’.

“Are you underestimating me, Mandalorian?” Batting your lashes at Din. He can hear his heartbeat in his helmet while trying to conjure an image of you, aiming a blaster in hand.

“No….” He trails off. Your eyes trained on him with a determined expression. “I just don’t expect a princess to know how to shoot.”

“Well Mando, it looks like there’s even more for you to discover about me.”

“Alright, prove it,” he shifts to stand. He offers his hand again and you take it, firmly. When you completely stand, you're closer than he had originally intended and he can feel the tense air between you. He brushes a thumb across your knuckles before letting go. 

You give him a sly grin while motioning your hand towards him, “alright, hand it over.”

“Hold on, let’s find a better spot.”

The two of you don’t stray too far, walking into the small forest behind the tree you were previously leaned up against. Din stops and points to a different tree just a few feet away, “hit the middle of that one.”

Usually, Din wouldn’t be so keen as to just hand anyone his weapons. But, you weren’t just anyone, were you? He sets the blaster in your hand, switching off the safety. 

“Thank you,” you mutter, situating the blaster in your dominant hand, with the other coming up to steady it. 

Raising your shoulders, you assume your stance and level the blaster for aiming. He watches from behind, arms folded and observant. So far he could say you’re doing everything you’re supposed to and is already impressed, not that that shows. 

Taking a deep breath through your mouth and out your nose, your supporting hand drops and your finger twitches on the trigger. In a split second, the blaster fire perfectly hits the middle of the tree. Lowering the blaster, you let out a “Hah!” You puff your chest with pride, looking back at Din for his reaction. 

If Din didn't think he was in trouble before, he definitely is now. He hadn’t realized just how attracted he would be to a trait like that in YOU, and suddenly the armor is too hot for him.

He almost can’t bring himself to say anything in response, it feels like his heart jumped into his throat. A self-satisfied look on your face as you set your other hand on your hip, “you seem…speechless? Hard to tell.”

You were right, and that was saying a lot for Din, considering he’s not much with words to begin with. He quietly clears his throat and reaches to take the blaster from your outstretched arm, “Count me impressed.”

You beamed, but this time it’s shy as you try to look away from him as he takes the blaster. He’d tell you that was cute if that wasn’t so out-of-character for him. 

“What made you take this up?” Din asks as you return to your spot on the grass. 

“Father said ‘pick a form of self defense’ and that was my choice,” you mimic your father’s voice and shrug. “I just happened to hit it off with blasters, and now I prefer them.” 

“But have you ever actually had to use one?”

“No. I guess, fortunately?”

A silence falls, you fidget with your hands as he settles next to you, once again. 

“I know that part isn’t impressive,” you add, dejectedly.

“It’s not bad. I’m glad you haven’t had to yet,” Din then turns his head towards you. “Any more surprises?”

Your lips curl at the edges, biting your lip and stifling a giggle, “for now.” You wink at him and turn to dig through the basket you brought with, setting out various fruits. 

Din’s eyes focus on the food but says nothing. 

“Don’t worry,” you assure him, while taking a bite out of one you’d chosen. “It’s just in case you want it. I felt rude not at least trying, I can give you privacy if needed.”

Din mulls the thought in his head for minutes, considering the setting. He feels a twinge in his stomach, anxiety coming up as he shoves it back down. He’s grateful for how understanding you are when it comes to his boundaries. He hasn’t been given a lot of that when it comes to his helmet and his creed. The galaxy so far has insistently been against him when it comes to those. 

“I appreciate it,” he says. 

—————————————————————————

You choose for today, and just today, you’ll pretend. Pretend your obligations don’t exist, that you’re not a princess. That you’re just you, someone capable of being so much more than what she’s just been slated in life. Capable of being more with Mando. 

That’s when the realization finally sets in, just how deeply you’ve found yourself in love with him. You realize it’s only been several days since you’ve met him, you haven’t even seen his face! But that didn’t matter to you, you have never felt so drawn to and comfortable with someone before in your life. 

You also can’t say you didn’t let it happen, and it’s tragic almost. It didn’t help that the two of you had almost immediately fell into a rhythm together. Two stars in sync with each other’s gravitational pull, becoming a careful dance.

You can’t be with him, and he can’t be with you. But that’s assuming he feels the same way, and that you’re not really sure of. It might be better to not know. You can’t abandon your life, and he shouldn’t have to worry about you.

It hurts immensely. 

“Here, I’ll do this,” you say, shifting your body to sit back to back with him. “I can’t see you this way, and I won’t look.” 

Mando says nothing at first, visor trained on the spread you’d set out. His lack of response causes you to feel insecure. 

“I’m sorry, maybe that’s too much-“

“No. You’re fine. It works.”

You give him a small nod before turning back to face away from him. You focus your eyes on anything else; trees, hills, the sky. You hear a hiss escape from where you feel him shift to lift his helmet and your heart stops. How would it be to see that face? But you would never betray that trust he’s just displayed. 

Mando doesn’t completely remove the helmet, just lifting it enough to take bites of the fruit you’ve laid out. Fair enough, though. Whatever works for him and makes him feel most comfortable is more important to you. 

Moment’s of peaceful silence pass as you take in the sounds and scenery around you while partaking in some of the fruit you snagged. Beautiful, lush green forest and fields, a clear and beautiful sky, the silent chewing from your armored companion. You wish you could live in this moment forever.

Reality finds ways to drift back into your thoughts though, always somewhat present and hard to escape. You let out a quiet sigh, leaning your back against his. You feel him tense up, subtly. But before you can think twice about it, he relaxes back into it, giving you a small amount of physical contact. You’re relieved he allows you this.

‘I’m glad we did this,” you break the silence. “I needed a break, as brief as it may be.”

“Thank you for including me,” he says in his unfiltered voice, helmet still lifted. Your heart in your chest speeds up from hearing it. As much as you love his voice with the modulator, the actual, naked sound is music to your ears. His voice is still low but with a rich timbre. 

Worrying your bottom lip, you lean your head back onto his shoulder. He allows for that as well, maybe indulging you. It’s comforting, but also sad. 

“There’s a chance I could not become a senator, like my father.”

Mando stills, “Is that so?”

“Sort of,” you begin to explain. “We still have democratic elections. There’s a possibility of me not being elected.”

Mando gives a low hum, “What would you do then?”

A million ideas including him run through your mind at that question, but you don’t say. “Technically I’d still be serving in some capacity, it’s how our family has always worked.” Part of you had hoped he'd have something to offer, more to say to that.

It’s quiet again, this time more somber. You’d been thinking about this detail for a while, and it still felt like no way out, and you feel ashamed for even trying to look for one. Mando doesn’t respond yet, replacing his helmet to its normal position. 

You sit up and turn back to him, looking into his visor. Helmet already trained on you. 

“Thank you,” he all but whispers, barely picked up by the modulator. You give him a gentle smile in response, “Of course.”

After the afternoon had worn on some more, and some comfortable quiet moments had passed as the two of you relaxed together, you signaled it was time to go. 

Your heart tightens in your chest at the thought of every minute passing, becoming less and less time with him. You’ve tried hard to not focus on that, nor show that emotion. You want to enjoy the time you have left.

—————————————————————————

You and Din return to your suite at the palace, stopping just before the door. He assumes his regular place in front, waiting to watch you disappear inside for the time being. 

But you don’t go inside, you stop just at the threshold. You stop in your tracks, seemingly contemplating something. You turn back to him, avoiding his gaze but also not as you start to run a hand through your hair. 

“You can come in to wait for me…..if you want.” 

It’s silent again, but tense. Din can feel his heart in his throat now, mouth dry as he tries to swallow it back down. His resolve crumbles enough for him to step forward, towards you. In his usual fashion, saying nothing, he strides past you into your living space. You step to the side to allow him in and he nods to you on the way. 

Upon entering your temporary living space, he takes in the details of proof that you’ve been there. One side of the room is a luxurious, wide bed with accompanying side tables, a couch sits at the end of the bed. Across the room from there is a table with books, a rack of clothing, a vanity and dressing screen for your privacy. 

“The couch is probably the most comfortable,” you mention as you saunter past him. “Make yourself at home.”

Din does so, looking out-of-place as he cautiously sits in the middle of the soft couch. Posture straight and gaited, he looks as stiff as he feels. He is painfully aware of the effect of the whole situation on the inside of his flight suit. It’s not that he’s uncomfortable, he just never expected to be in such a private setting with you.

It’s been too long since he’s felt this kind of need and genuine desire, and that also scares him. He feels like a doomed man, mentally cursing to himself that if only you had met under different circumstances. 

You press a button on a panel on the wall near the dressing screen and all lighting in the room fades to a softer, yellow hue. You step behind the screen, bending to start removing your shoes. 

Din has to suppress the almost audible gulping sound that leaves him when he realizes he can see your silhouette through the dressing screen. He doesn’t know if you know he can see you like this and is too stunned to even say. 

“I’m happy we happen to be here right as this festival is happening,” you state. “I haven’t been to it since I was a teenager.”

He watches your shadow begin to undress, slowly peeling off your layers one by one until you’re in your underwear. Your hands move to undo the clasp on your chest band, causing an audible ‘snap’ noise. You move sideways, emphasizing a perfect outline of your front and back. He imagines your breasts must be as soft and enticing from their outline in the shadow. 

He feels a twitch in his flight suit pants then immediately seeks to contain that by resting his ankle on his knee, bouncing it repetitively to keep himself ‘busy’. He almost jumps out of his skin as you walk to the edge of the screen, only to stop just before the end and reach your hand and naked arm to the rack where the garment bag you picked up yesterday hung, plucking it.

It’s certainly not out of place for him to have nothing to say, because at the moment he can’t even muster a word. He’s way too distracted now and hopes you’re not looking for a response.

You maneuver yourself into the dress, swaying your hips side to side to slide the fabric over your body. Din unconsciously flexes his hands, imagining how those hips would feel beneath them. 

When you finish fitting the dress onto yourself, you emerge from behind the screen. When you notice him, your expression is curious and he fears he’s been caught until you ask, “are you ok?”

Din crosses his arms and stands abruptly, guarding the subtle expressions of his body language as much as he can. Give offers a curt, “Yes.” He immediately notices how flattering the dress is on you, laying perfectly with your back being the most exposed. 

You narrow your eyes at him briefly and turn to seat yourself at your vanity. Din takes the opportunity to roam the small space, observing the table of books and reading material from the event that had been unceremoniously placed there. 

You adjust yourself in the mirror of your vanity, fixing your hair. You look back at yourself with a determined look, twisting your arms to place your hair where you need it. Din watches your meticulous routine from behind, eyes flitting between your actions and yourself in the mirror. You can see him in the reflection as you work. 

“It won't be too long, but it’s a process,” you murmur, moving to grab various pieces of makeup to apply. 

Din can barely manage to offer any words as he imagines what it would be like to casually approach you, placing reverent kisses on the back of your neck and shoulders. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he finally says. 

You shoot him a questioning look where you see him in the reflection of the mirror, “are you sure you’re alright?”

Din forces himself to visibly relax, it’s uncanny how well you’ve been able to pick up on his mannerisms since you’ve met, “everything is good with me.” He feels like he sounds unconvincing and your lingering eyes in the mirror don’t help. You shrug and return to your tasks.

That companionable silence has returned as Din watches you apply your makeup, you mutter to yourself absentmindedly here and there as you move to each next piece. Some time passes before you set down your items and pat your lap, giving yourself a last look over in the mirror before standing. 

The way you look takes his breath away. He was almost shocked when he first saw how casual you’d chosen to be today but loved it all the same. He loved seeing another side of you and right now is no exception either. He felt domestic just from being allowed to watch you put yourself together. 

He wants to take you apart. 

—————————————————————————

“Well?” You query Mando as you turn side to side to get a good look over yourself in the mirror. “Do I look alright?”

He’s paused then steps closer behind you, looming over your shoulder at your reflection, you look at him. You feel your heart rate quicken under what feels like his eyes raking over you. It takes everything in you to resist the urge to turn into him and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Beautiful,” he offers the one-worded response, but that's all that needs to be said. 

You turn to him, smiling, staving off a heat that threatens to take over your cheeks, “thank you.” He cocks his helm to the side in response. 

You stride past him, noticing his helmet visibly follow. You sway your hips ever so slightly as his visor scans you up and down. Getting closer to your door, you look back and flash him a grin and gesture with a nod, “I saw that.”

“No you didn’t,” he throws back at you, sarcastically. You snicker in response, “Come on, shiny man.”

Mando stalks towards you and stifles a chuckle, “I get a nickname too?”

“I tried, not sure how I feel about that one.”

“Not as fun as mine, mesh’la.”

—————————————————————————

The festival is bustling, vendors sell their wares and trinkets while others offer delicious and exotic street foods. There are large displays of flowers and accompanying decorations across the town and performers scattered entertaining the masses. 

You point out these things to Mando as you stroll through, your hand back in its place in the crook of his elbow. He doesn’t have much to say but you know he’s invested in your excitement and what you say. 

Here and there you'd explain the meaning behind certain displays and performances to educate him. You figure you can do the same for him as he’s done for you when he’d allowed you to poke at him about Mandalorian customs. You’d share similar traditions from your own planet and how they coincide with each other. 

You tried your best to be in the present and stop worrying about tomorrow, when you’ll inevitably have to say goodbye to the Mandalorian. You’re going to miss the camaraderie the two of you had unknowingly built together in the short amount of days. You’ve never found someone so in sync with you. 

Regardless if he has similar feelings, it’s heartbreaking all the same. It’s too scary at this point to ask. If you’ve learned anything about him this past week, it’s that his actions speak louder than his words. Although it seems he reserves many of those words and actions just for you. A self-indulgent thought you keep tucked in your heart. 

Day slowly turns into night, the sun giving way to a beautiful, pink setting in the sky. You finish up a snack you’d bought earlier as you nod at Mando, “fireworks should be soon, we should find a good spot.”

“Fireworks, huh? They really go all-out here.”

“It’s Naboo,” you laugh. “What do you expect?” 

“Do you have a spot for that too?”

You scoff in response, “of course I do.”

And that you did. It’s a bold move, but you offer him your hand, “follow me.” He takes your smaller hand in his gloved one, and it feels warm. Safe. 

You lead him along, navigating through other festival-goers until you find yourself in front of part of the forest that lines the city. He doesn’t question it though, and you bring yourselves to a small path in. When you’ve arrived, you’re at a small clearing on the side of the larger lake the show will display over. 

“I never doubted you,” he proclaims. You feel like you can ‘hear’ a smile in his tone. You turn your nose up with a ‘hmm!’. You hear a faint chuckle that barely escapes his helmet’s modulator. 

The sun is finally set, giving way to a beautiful, clear night sky. You take in a deep breath of air and admire it, smiling to yourself. You look down and notice he’s still holding your hand. You don’t say anything or move it, for fear of ending the small contact. He doesn’t try to break it up either. 

One by one, lights lift into the sky and explode. The fireworks are bright and loud and your spot is the perfect and more private place to view them. You instantly become entranced in them, their reflections flash in your eyes.

You suddenly feel a familiar shift in energy, one that you’ve been feeling all week. From the times you feel his eyes on you for long periods of time. Sometimes even when his helmet isn’t exactly pointed towards you. A feeling almost hard to explain, you just know. But you don’t turn to face him just yet, preening under what feels like his warm gaze, while you can. These last few moments are difficult to approach, no matter how hard you shove back the emotions.  

What will it be like after tomorrow? Will you feel a hole in your chest? A part of your heart that knows and wishes to know him that will forever be empty? Will you always spend the rest of your life asking “what if”?

You finally turn to him and he does the same. But there are no words. You’re both silent, save for the sounds of fireworks in the background. You look into his visor and admire the reflection of the bright, colorful explosions that play out on his helmet. It’s beautiful. 

A tension builds between you, again. But what could be said? It’s too painful to say out loud. You’ll have to speak through your actions, just as he does. 

You slowly lift the hand you’re still holding, cautiously bringing it to place over your chest where your heart pounds. You fear it might be too much when his hand stills, but then relaxes in place underneath yours. You just want him to feel your heartbeat, and he acquiesces. 

But he surprises you again, after a moment passes, holding his hand over your heart. He brings his other hand up to remove his glove, carefully plucking from his fore and middle finger, sliding it off then placing it in his pocket. 

With his now bare hand, he gently tucks a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. Instead of bringing his hand back, he caresses the side of your face. You can feel him hesitate at first, hovering slightly above your cheek, seeking silent permission. You oblige by nuzzling into his palm, relishing the feeling of his bare skin on yours.

The setting is calm but the storm in your chest is otherwise and you wish you could remain like this. Tomorrow is coming too soon, it’s too much. But you know, and he knows. 

When the show ends, the two of you remain that way for a short while after. You can’t bring yourself to end it any sooner but after some time, you decide to rip off the bandaid. When you slightly move from his hand, he returns it to himself but without putting the glove back on. 

When you return to your room, after a solemn and quiet walk back, you swear you can still feel the warmth of his skin on yours. It’s all he can give right now and you’ll hold it dear to you. 

—————————————————————————

Settling down for the night, you walk around the room to fade the lights back to the yellow hue. You sit on the couch as you read the last of a book you’ve had your nose in for the last hour. You glance up, down, then quickly back up again when you notice the silhouetted shape of something from behind your dressing screen. 

Hurriedly putting the book down, you set for the screen to investigate. Behind it is the pile of clothes and one of your suitcases that had made up the shape. You realize, to your mortification, that anything behind casts a shadow than can be seen.

That means. That earlier. That he could. He could see- Oh MAKER. 

Mando'a Translated:

Mesh'la = Beautiful

Cyare = Sweetheart

@dindjarinsmut @impala1967666 @kittenlittle24 @angel-with-a-heart @leithatnight @i-usually-main-bards-tho @dins-riduur-anthe @fatima-marisa @lalalalemonade11 @n7cje

Next Chapter

[tchouameninga]

https://www.tumblr.com/tchouameninga/768079425413758976/whats-your-favourite-trope-for-stonesdias

For fics yeah

omg i wrote like 5 paragraphs worth of answer and then my app fucking crashed so i’m repeating this i’m so annoyed. fuck tumblr anyway

- any kind of whump or hurt/comfort this transcends across fandoms not just specific to stonesdias. give me all the injuries, illnesses, hospitalisations etc and it doesn’t matter who gets the short end of the stick. just whump <3

- unrequited pining but then they eventually get together. like if one of them yearns from afar and gives puppy eyes but like they have to get together after this

- this one is only specific to stonesdias i usually hate it in other fandoms, toxic relationships. but not if john is the mean one because that’s baby boy. but i would love it if rúben is all mean and degrading and humiliating in front of everyone

- a/b/o because john is textbook omega and rúben is textbook alpha and also pregnant john >>>>>>

- jealous possessive dark rúben

- and AUs. as i said what works with them is the dynamic and their personalities so if you throw them in any universe i’d eat it up. here are some AUs i was brainstorming for stonesdias fics but it never saw the light of day:

- high school au

- royalty au (but in a different era like bridgerton)

- hogwarts/harry potter/magic au

- idk how to explain it but they are soulmates in every universe across time and they’re always bound to meet but john keeps dying in every single universe and every time he does, time resets and rúben gets thrown into another life and the loop continues until it doesn’t lol

- similar to prev and i was inspired by a tommy/alfie fic but they were dating, happy, built a life together etc but then they get thrown back in time (the fic i read was 1920s so i kinda wanna keep in theme) but then one of them suddenly doesn’t remember them ever being together, fact that they don’t even know who the other person is and neither does everyone around them. only one of them still remember and they need to figure out how to solve this

i do want to write one or several or myb all of them idk but we will see after i finish the gang au. anyway i’m not too picky with stonesdias fics cuz the options are limited so i’ll read anything but those are my favs. i do tend to prefer long, multichap plot heavy fics

[fandomfluffandfuck]

AAAAAAAA IF YOU MADE MÅNESKIN THEMED STUCKY DRABBLE OR FIC I WOULD PASS AWAY I ADORE THEM (Coraline is SO Stucky)

related to this

I have so many fucking ideas for them that are song related, you don't understand 😫😫 I wish all I had to do all day, every day was write but even then, I don't think I would get to every idea I have!

Måneskin, though, I just--

Brought you some roses, you didn't take them So I shed a tear Pouring some champagne over your panties So that we can cheer Counting the hours, counting the seconds 'Till I can feel your bones There is a diamond on your pillow When you're coming home Alone, I've been waiting So long, it's true Dance in your shoes, read your diary to Get inside of you, you, you Forever and ever and ever Cried on your nudes, wearing your perfume Now I taste like you, you, you Forever and ever and ever I was dancing in your shoes When I read your diary to Try to get inside of you Put on your lipstick, show me your kinks I'm not afraid of them Show me the lovin', the lovin', the lovin' That you'll never give to a man I'm not a coward, I'm not a hero But I can be your toy I'll be the pill that you wanna swallow When you're looking for the joy Alone, I've been waiting So long, it's true Dance in your shoes, read your diary to Get inside of you, you, you Forever and ever and ever Cried on your nudes, wearing your perfume Now I taste like you, you, you Forever and ever and ever I was dancing in your shoes When I read your diary to Try to get inside of you Oh, why don't you give a little love now, baby? A little bit of love Alone, in the shower Using my left hand so it feels like you So please, I'm begging To feel something new Dance in your shoes, read your diary to Get inside of you, you, you Forever and ever and ever Cried on your nudes, wearing your perfume Now I taste like you, you, you Forever and ever and ever I was dancing in your shoes When I read your diary to Try to get inside of you

This just fucking screams roommate, best friend, pining-to-be-lovers Bucky to me.

Bucky plays it cool, but when Steve's out of the house, he can't help himself. He lets loose and indulges his yearning.

He snatches a pair of Steve's underwear from the laundry, it's his turn to do it, and imagines what they might smell like if they weren't freshly washes, how they might look if they were stained, how they would strain across Steve's crotch and turn dark, wetted with pre-cum like spilled champagne.

Further, feeling his bones, he imagines pressing himself all up against Steve's skinny frame, using one hand to encircle both of his wrists, pinning him down to his mattress.

His feet don't fit in Steve's shoes on account of their size difference, but that doesn't stop him from cramming his feet into them and dancing (stumbling really) to Steve's favorite songs when he's alone in their house just to sate the urge to take Steve out on the town and dance with him in front of god and everyone.

Spraying Steve's cologne on his own neck, across his own pillow, just to pretend Steve was there--that close to him.

Not reading Steve's diary, but close enough, carefully sliding his sketchbooks out from where he stashes them to flip through the pages and see what his little artist has been up to. He spends as long as he can admiring the drawings but always carefully places them exactly back where they were so he doesn't suspect a thing.

And, of course, Bucky using his alone time to drag out his jerk off sessions, fantasizing about all the things he could do with Steve, all the things he doesn't know about him but wants to. It's always the quiet ones that have the most kinks, and he's dying to know what Steve doesn't say.

Ugh. It would be so good.

And Coraline, too!! Yes!

[niffala]

As I Lay Dying

Pairing: Eddie Munson / Steve Harrington

Summary: Another day, another flower added to my grave, but I still love him just the same. 

Warnings: angst, pining, unrequited love, Hanahaki Disease, implied character death

A/N: Short and bittersweet. Written in 1st person. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated. 

Main Masterlist   

I wish I could tell him how much he meant to me. Confess what I held so close to my chest. How much I lived for his smile. How every time our eyes met my world stopped. How much it pained me that he always looked away first, shame marring his perfect face. How our almost kiss still made my lips tingle. How life seemed pointless without him around.

How I'd get down on my knees to beg him to come back. 

He was like the stars, to be adored, but never touched. Maybe if I'd only tried harder. If I kept reaching, raising my hands to the sky and hoping. Dreaming. Stretching myself into an impossible shape just for the chance to see love in his eyes when he looked back at me.

It was a foolish wish. Each time he looked away, I was reminded of it. Of a love I could never voice. A yearning so great it manifested into something terrible, tangible… deadly.

I remember the first petal. We were hanging out with friends when he sat next to me, hand brushing against my own. He commented on how cold I was. Then he covered my hand with his warmer one. Leaving it there for what felt like hours, but were probably minutes. My soul soared to the cosmos… until he let go. Dropping me as soon as he saw her walk in. 

Seeing them together made my heart tighten, my stomach twist and my lungs burn impossibly hot. I began coughing uncontrollably, excusing myself to the bathroom. Sucking water from the tap, trying to clear my airway. When the spasms stopped, I found a solitary petal in the sink. It had a deep purple hue, almost black in color. I didn't think much of it at the time, but I know now I should have. 

It happened again, then again, and again. Each time there were more petals, until I began throwing up whole flowers. Most of which I didn't have a name for. The colors though; Midnight blue, indigo, amethyst, burgundy, crimson, onyx. Always different, always dark. Rich and remarkable.

There was a name for this; Hanahaki Disease. A condition that took one of the worst feelings in the world and made it equally gentle and violent. Added beauty to the pain. Yes it will kill you, but look at the pretty flowers. Look what love creates even when it isn't returned. A miracle and a tragedy rolled into one. Yeah, I guess that summed up love pretty well.

I feel the hot trail of tears slide down my face as another wave of coughing hits, expelling a large flower into my hand. Even with blood staining it, I still find it beautiful. I treasured my destruction. Keeping each one so my room now overflowed with them.

I set down the blossom, resigned to my fate. I could try to save myself. Get to the hospital and have them rip it out by the roots. Suck out the poison. Erase this devastating love.

No!

I could never do that. I'd rather spend my last moments thinking about him. Letting this love choke the life out of me. My body would be found surrounded with the gorgeous blooms. Their perfume masking my decay. A heartbreakingly perfect garden. 

Would he finally see me?

Would he know it was for him? 

Would he care? 

Or would he pluck a flower from my broken chest and give it to her?

My breath stutters, struggling for just a few more minutes. Living for the images in my head. Holding onto and replaying the memories that created every soft lethal petal.

I hope to be buried with them all. They are evidence my love was real. That there was a reason for all of this and it was beautiful. 

More than anything, I hope he knows I never regretted a single moment. 

He was worth it.

The End

A/N: A special thank you to everyone that has read this. I appreciate you all and I’d love to know your thoughts.

[connorsui]

Forever bound and forever yours as your flower and as your kind little wife I should become the beautiful vision you see with no titles and no pressure… for shall we both become nothing but ourselves – AAAAUUUGHHHHH DID THIS HAD ME DYING ON THE INSIDE FOR HOW CUTE AND ADORABLE THE ENTIRE SEQUENCE WASSSSSS 🩷🩷🩷 like was I expecting the smut!? …yes …but did my mind correlate with the words that were presented upon me!? ….NOOOO …the longing ..and the pining for one another had me yearning for aemond like a wh0re with nothing to her name besides sum illegitimate bastards to carry

Like it was so unbelievably hot and yet adorable to me in how aemond not only tried to stay away from us as much as he could in fear of the possible relationship…but each one of our encounters together just allowed for the emotions to grow even larger — like the opportunity he took when alicent said our father wasn't gonna give his family anything if they didn't give him what was owed? …this man was only thinking of one thing ..and one thing only …

✨️marriage✨️

But I ain't gonna lie ..when he said the whole marriage aspect was cuz of his family at first …I was ready to fucking leave and marry the other man 🧍🏻‍♀️ …cuz if you ain't gonna take our entire scenes together like it was meant to be ..than why the fuck are you here wasting ur time?? ..and my time?? ..just watch me turn around and greet the dorne prince with a hand in marriage 💀

I CANT– THIS WAS SO WELL WRITTEN IT HAD MY MIND TURN INTO A SPIRAL OF LOVE AND ADORATION 🩷🩷😭

Unexpected Affections

Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader

Synopsis: With just a smile, you had managed to bewitch and enthrall the stoic and cold prince. 

Warnings: Sunshine x Grumpy Trope, ¿Softer Aemond?, ¿Simp Aemond?, Jealousy, Mature, 18+, Fingering, P in V Sex, Oral Sex (f receiving), Overstimulation, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 7,287

A/N: Really milking softer Aemond bc I'm pretty sure I'm going to take a break from him once s2 is released.

He’s broken beyond repair. Too far gone to be saved. Aemond knew fully well that is how the others see him. The boy who had his eye taken was never the same. Darkness was his only solace, the walls too far up that no one dared to scale it and reach the true him— simply taking the dark and villainous scrap of his true self that he was willing to give. All seemed to give up on him— simply let him drown in his darkness, except you. 

Like all things good, you came unexpectedly. You were a mere visitor from Highgarden, a noble lady who came with your lord father as he tended to business in the capitol. Aemond could never understand how you looked at everything and everyone with rose-colored glasses, but he supposed he should be grateful because if that trusting naivety in you were lost, your light would never come close to his looming darkness. 

“Who is that?” Aemond asked his family’s most trusted knight, Ser Criston Cole. Your figure caught his attention; it was as if you were floating along the gardens of his home. A small smile on your face and flowers adorned in your hair. He stood near the balcony, discussing important business with the knight, when his train of thought was lost and captured by your mere presence. “Lady Tyrell, her father has business here with the crown,” the knight said absentmindedly. Aemond nodded and took one last glance at you before walking away. 

The thought of you was quickly forgotten by the prince. He saw your presence as just another to add to the list of nobles at court who cowered upon his stature. However, you lingered in the back of his mind as he often saw glimpses of you walking through the halls of his home. Aemond stood in the gardens once more, this time waiting for his sister and her children when he caught your eyes. He waited for fear and apprehension to present themself in your orbs, the same reactions he would elicit from everyone. However, the prince was taken aback as you smiled at him. A small, respectable smile before you stole your eyes and continued to your promenading.

Aemond blinked his eye rapidly, trying to discern if he saw correctly or if it was a cruel trick made by his impaired vision. Aemond pursed his lips as he felt himself walk towards where you had passed. There was this odd pull about you— more than your beauty; if it was just that, a comely face was never one to put the prince in a trance. It was an ethereal element that beguiled Aemond quickly. He had not even spoken to you, yet you had already managed to put such an effect on him. 

He watched from a distance as you bent down and assessed a flower, your fingers caressing the velvety petal and bringing it to your nose to discern the fragrance of it. Aemond felt that pull once more, his feet carrying him closer to you. When you stood straight, your brows raised in surprise as you had noticed you were no longer alone. “My prince,” You greeted with a curtsy, his silvery locks the warning sign that you spoke to royalty. Aemond was rendered silent, his mind already spinning at the sound of your voice. What was this? He could not explain what had overcome him. You bit your lip as no greeting left the prince’s lips, him only staring at you with an unreadable expression on his angular face. “Are… are you well, my prince?” You asked, daring to step closer and take hold of his arm to examine if he was truly well. 

You watched as his lips parted and closed, no sound leaving it. “Perhaps you should find some shade; the heat may be too unbearable,” You say quietly and never take your hold off his arm, guiding him towards the shade of a willow tree in concern. Aemond was screaming at himself on the inside, hating that he was making a fool of himself, that he couldn’t even speak, simply letting you guide him towards the shade and making him sit on a bench. Your concern for his well-being consumes your face and his being. “Do you wish for refreshment, perhaps w—“ Aemond shook his head as he finally regained his senses. 

You chewed on your cheek as the prince stood. “I am fine; I apologize for the— the intrusion, Lady Tyrell,” He said stoically, and you shook your head and smiled at him. “No need for apologies, my prince; no intrusion was made. But are you certain that you are well… you look a bit pale, my prince.” You say and quickly regret it as your mind reminds you that maybe that was just his true complexion. You swallowed thickly as you saw him pursed his lips, fearing that you had offended the prince. Aemond did not know how to take this concern— this kindness that he was never the receiver of. “I am quite well; good day, my lady.” He walked away in haste as he feared that if he stayed longer in your presence, he would make a further fool of himself. You stood there in confusion; your lips parted as the prince almost ran from you. 

The thought of you haunted Aemond until the night, his arm still tingling from where you had placed your touch. He replayed the scene in his mind over and over again, trying to convince himself that your concern was fictitious— that it was a ploy to be in the good graces of the prince. But as he recalled the way your eyes bore into his, nothing but sincerity was evident in your orbs. How are you this kind? To a stranger, no less. Aemond was restless as he lay in his bed; his mind kept conjuring your interaction in the gardens, refusing him any other thought than you. 

When morning came, Aemond had made great lengths to avoid you, silently embraced as he had made a fool of himself in the gardens. As his training ended, Aemond tried to find reprieve from the loud keep in the library. Aemond believed he was successful in his avoidance of you, but as he stood by the threshold of the silent room, he saw, as you were seated in one of the chairs, a book in your hand as you silently read. His presence was still not noticed. He could easily slip away and be successful in his avoidance of you, yet, just like the other days, his body could not help but be pulled towards you. 

When you noticed a presence standing before where you sat, you flickered your gaze upward and locked eyes with the prince once more. “Prince Aemond,” You acknowledge and move to stand to greet him, but he silently raises his hand and hinders your actions. You copied his silence as he took the seat across from you. You traveled your gaze through the library, uncertain what to say or do. “I hope you are feeling better,” You say quietly. Aemond licked his lips as he was subjected to your dazzling presence once more; even though he had willed himself to avoid it, it seemed you were inevitable. 

“I am; I was simply tired,” He said, making certain to place coldness in his tone, hoping it would deter you and no longer present him with your kindness he stubbornly took as deception. Aemond felt his breath catch as you gave him another smile. A relieved smile for his well-being that was so genuine that he could not stubbornly convince himself that it was not. 

You stayed silent as you felt that that was what the prince preferred. You tried to return to your reading, but his velvety voice sounded through the room. “What business did you have here?” He asked. Aemond was testing you, presenting you with his cold and calloused self to see if it would have any effect on you just like it did the other. He watched calculatingly as your lips parted, and he found trouble to remove his gaze from your plush lips. “If I am being honest, I am not quite certain, my prince.” You said truthfully. You watched him raise his brow at you to explain further. “My father has business he needed to tend to here, but he had not disclosed to me the reason for it or why I needed to join.” Aemond nodded and watched as your eyes were never removed from his gaze, surprised that you could hold onto his intensified stare. 

“So you have no purpose here?” He asked harshly. He expected a frown or a look of offense on your face, but he watched as you smiled as if you were amused and shrugged, “I suppose not.” Aemond stayed silent and continued to asses you as you returned to your reading. 

“Do you like philosophy, Prince Aemond?” You asked after a stretch of silence, unable to bear the eerie and suffocating quiet. Aemond took a moment before he answered your query that no one had been interested in asking him before. “I do,” Another small smile appeared on your lips as you nodded. “Then have you perhaps read this? I have been mulling over the proposition of the archmaester for days now, but I cannot seem to comprehend it fully,” You say and turn the book you read towards him. Your fingers brushed as the prince took the book from your hands, and you could not hinder the chill that ran down your spine as you felt his cold, calloused fingers against yours. 

You listened earnestly as the prince began to speak and explain the proposition you had trouble comprehending, going to great lengths to explain his thoughts on it, assisting and receiving any questions you had. Aemond paused in his explanation, feeling as if his mouth had gone dry by his prolonged speaking. He turned to the window and saw as the once high sun began to set; he returned his gaze to you, your chin resting on your palm as you had listened to his every word, clinging onto every syllable he had uttered. Aemond gulped as he realized his mistake. He had revealed too much of him; too much of his thinking was poured out in his explanation of philosophy. “I must take my leave,” he suddenly said, disregarding that he was in the middle of explaining another philosophical theory that was different from the first you had inquired about. 

“Oh,” You said and straightened in your seat. Aemond wanted to frown as he detected disappointment in your tone and eyes. That cannot be, can it? Why would anyone be disappointed in his departure? “Good day, my prince,” You curtsied as you stood, not wanting to take more of his time. Aemond began to walk away, cursing himself for his actions, but he halted by the door as you spoke. “Thank you for your explanations… they were quite enlightening,” You said, and Aemond turned to you; the smile returned to your lips as you looked at him gratefully. Were you truly thankful? Thankful for him? Was that even a possibility? Aemond gave a curt nod and willed himself to walk away from you. 

You were in the gardens once again. You were terribly homesick, and the gardens of the Red Keep were the only resemblance of your home that you could cling to. You were walking distractedly, a buzzing bee following you around as the flowers in your hair attracted the insect. You tried to squat it away, afraid to get stung when you accidentally missed a step, losing your balance, and were met with the cobbled floor of the gardens. Your jaw slacked in pain, and you tried to stand, your cheeks burning in embarrassment that someone may have seen your ungraceful fall. There was a stone by your side, and you tried to hoist yourself upon it, hissing as you accidentally placed pressure on your swollen ankle, but you were determined to stand and walk back to the keep to ask for assistance.   

Unbeknownst to you, Prince Aemond had been observing you from above the gardens, and the moment he saw the sight of you falling, he made hastened steps to reach you. “My lady,” He called, trying to hide his panting, and approached you as if he had only stumbled upon your presence. You sat before a rock, and he noticed you hiding your injured limb from his view, “My prince,” Aemond watched in slight awe as you still tried to stand and curtsied before him, still holding onto formalities even though you were clearly hurt. 

“Are you well?” This time, it was now Aemond to ask the question. You placed a tight smile on your lips, pretending that your injury was not at all bothering you. “I am fine, and you, my prince?” You asked, trying to speak of pleasantries. You shifted your weight on your uninjured leg and, for once, hoped that the prince would leave. “Are… are you certain?” Aemond inquired, wondering why you would pretend. “Y-yes,” You stuttered, and Aemond narrowed his eye. 

You sighed and placed your head on the ground. “I… I tripped, and I think my ankle is injured— but I do not wish to bother you, my prince. I can wait for the swelling to subside.” Aemond frowned at your words. How were you so concerned about his well-being but not your own? Aemond shook his head and stepped closer to you, silently scooping you in his arms. “Wh— My prince!” You said in shock as you were stiffly settled into the hold of Prince Aemond. Your arms circled around his neck to stabilize yourself. “You don’t— I could have just waited for a squire or maid to assist me,” You said in a slight panic and could not even bear to look at the prince in embarrassment. “You are clearly in pain,” Was all he said as he carried you back inside the castle walls, the both of you earning strange glances from the members of the court. 

Aemond returned you to your assigned chambers, trying to ignore the erratic beating of his still heart and the tingles on his skin from where he felt your touch. He placed you gently onto a settee, inhaling a whiff of your scent, and he felt intoxicated. He placed a respectable distance between you as the both of you waited for the maester he ordered a squire to fetch. Your gaze was still planted on the floor, and Aemond noticed the flush on your cheeks and the harsh bit you had on your lip, embarrassment clearly evident in you. 

“I did not wish to bother you, my prince.” You say quietly, your tone heavy with guilt. Aemond could only hum a response, clueless as to why you were apologizing. The maester finally arrived, and Aemond stood by the side as he oversaw the maester, tending your injury. You tried to keep your pained reactions to a minimum as you felt conscious of the prince’s presence, but you could not help but hiss in pain, and your face contorted in discomfort as the Maester tried to move your injury. Aemond swallowed thickly as he himself was overcome with a phantom pain by the mere observation of yours. 

“Will it heal, maester?” He asked in concern, stepping forward. “Yes, my prince, it is only a swollen ankle; it shall heal by the morrow,” The old man spoke and stood, placing a cold, damp towel upon your injury, and you reached forward to secure its place. Aemond gave a nod, and his eye followed the maester who exited your chambers, leaving the door open. Aemond returned his gaze to you, your eyes finally meeting his, and he once again felt his breath caught in his throat as you smiled at him. 

“Thank you for your assistance and kindness, my prince,” You say gratefully, and Aemond felt his knees weak. No one had ever called him kind before. As always, you were met with his silence, but you dared say you were getting used to it. After a few moments of Aemond trying to comprehend your words, he gave a curt nod. “I shall leave you to rest; good day, my lady.” He said and willed himself to walk away from your presence he did not wish to leave. 

Another day had passed, and Aemond had not seen a glimpse of your presence he had been trying to avoid just the day before. He had the urge to knock upon your door and to see how you were faring with your recovery, but he placed great restraint on himself as his mind deemed it inappropriate. So he waited another day. He stood by the gardens, his eye assessing every passerby as he waited for you. He had been stood by the balcony like a statue for the better part of the morning, but your presence had not been noted. 

Aemond decided to walk around the castle, passing along every corridor in search of you and ready to act surprised as you two would eventually encounter once more. It was nearing sundown, and he had not seen a glimpse of you. Perhaps she is still resting. His mind told him, but Aemond was not entirely sold by that reasoning. 

The prince attended his family’s supper in his mother’s chambers. He sat quietly in his seat and saw the aggravated and tired faces of his mother and grandsire as they came to the table late. “We apologize for our tardiness; the small council has been overburdened by a matter.” The queen explained as she took her seat. “What matter?” Aemond asked, always curious about the dealing made. “The crown cannot afford to pay the dues it owes to House Tyrell… it is too great a sum, and the lord has threatened to withhold back crops for the upcoming winter if we do not pay their price.” The hand spoke, and Aemond pursed his lips, knowing that the debt to your house had been since the time of the conqueror. 

“Surely they could be reasoned with— they would not want to offend the rulers of Westeros,” Aemond said quietly and heard his mother sighed deeply. “Perhaps, but no meetings and negotiations can be made at the moment, for they had already left late last night.” Aemond’s hold on his fork tightened as he heard the words. You had gone without even a goodbye.

“I just do not know what we can offer to match their hefty sum,” the lord hand said and downed his wine. Aemond traveled his gaze around the table, his sibling not at all listening to the matter. “Offer me,” Aemond spoke, and he felt all eyes shift toward him. He turned to his mother, the queen’s lips agape in shock at his words. “The crown does not have money to pay our debt— then is it not a custom to offer marriage instead?” He asked rhetorically; the practice was made for centuries, but the price was usually paid with a princess, not a prince. 

“Aemond, mere debts are not paid with a prince.” The queen said. “But it is not just a mere debt, now is it, mother? The Tyrells had as well placed a threat to the kingdom’s security over this winter— and the mere debt you speak of has been established since the age of the conqueror,” Aemond turned to his grandsire, who he knew would understand his proposition. The Hand pondered over his grandson’s words. “But you are set to marry the Baratheon girl,” Alicent countered, and Aemond scoffed. 

“We owe nothing to the Baratheons, and do you not think that this matter looms greater?” He asked, “Lord Tyrell only has a daughter, does he not? In time, the seat shall pass onto me as well, alike with the arrangements with Lord Borros. And with this, the crown will no longer be indebted to their house,” Aemond said, determined to see you once more. “That is a most favorable solution,” The hand commented, quite content by his grandson’s proposition. The queen sighed and took a moment to think of the proposal. “Very well then,” she sighed, and Aemond hindered the smirk threatening to slip his lips. 

“I shall draft the proposal tonight and send a messenger to Highgarden first thing tomorrow,” Otto said in finality. “No need, I shall offer the proposal myself in person,” Aemond said, and he saw apprehension in his mother’s eyes, disbelief by his decision, but none hindered him. 

It was afternoon the following day when he had reached High Garden, Aemond riding atop his dragon through the morning, eager to reach his destination, you. “My prince,” Lord Tyrell greeted him by the gates of their castle. “What business is so urgent that the prince of the realm had to fly his dragon all over here to the reach?” They had not even reached inside the castle walls when Lord Tyrell could no longer hinder his curiosity. 

“It is the matter of the crown’s debt,” Aemond replied, his eye scanning the halls in search of you. He heard your father reply with an ‘oh,’ clearly anticipating the conclusion of the matter. “Is the crown ready to pay us the price owed?” Aemond hummed as he passed a portrait of you hung on the wall of your home, his eye entranced by the picture. “In a way,” The prince danced upon the matter momentarily. “In lieu of a payment, the crown is prepared to offer a marriage,” Aemond stated and watched concussion flush over your father’s face. 

“With respect, my prince, but that is an insulting offer. The crown has owed my house a great sum accumulated since the age of conquest!” Lord Tyrell seethed, and Aemond gritted his jaw. “I believe you are too hasty with your outburst, my lord. The crown is offering a union between me and your daughter— an opportunity for your only child to be a princess… your grandchildren having the Targaryen name.” Lord Tyrell shook his head, “My daughter is already bound to marry another— titles are one thing, my prince, but there is still a debt to be paid.” Aemond felt the fire in his veins awaken at your father’s words. You are to be bound to another; that cannot be. You cannot be anyone else’s when you had consumed his entire being— when you had presented him with such hope and kindness that he was certain he would find in no one else. You could never be not his. 

Aemond licked his lips, certain that the words he would utter would be a gamble. “Very well then… a counteroffer, my lord. The crown cannot fully pay your price, so we offer a royal marriage and a fourth of the sum owed to you,” Aemond said, assessing the father's reaction as he mulled over the proposition. “I shall need time to reach a decision,” Lord Tyrell finally spoke after a long pause. “Of course,” Aemond agreed. “For the meantime, you are welcome to the halls of High Garden, Your Highness.” 

Aemond waited as your father disappeared from his view before he went on his search for you. He walked through the unfamiliar corridors and found himself being led outside towards the gardens where he wagered you would be. When he saw you seated by a fountain, a smirk curled on his lips. However, it was quick to fade as he had noticed you were not alone. Aemond made furious steps towards you to announce his presence. 

You were conversing with another when you felt your skin tingling and the familiarity of a cold gaze upon you. You turned to your side, and your eyes widened as you saw the prince approaching. You blinked slowly, trying to discern if your mind was playing a cruel trick. But when the prince stood an arm’s length away from you, where you could see him clearly, you knew that it was not a trick. “My prince,” You say almost breathlessly, curtsying lowly before the son of the king. 

“How… what brings you here, your highness?” You asked, disregarding the earlier presence you were with. “Business for the crown,” He replied, eyeing the man who stood beside you. You turned your eyes toward where the prince placed his gaze intensely. “Oh, my prince, this is Prince Martin Martell,” You introduced, and you felt Martin stepped forward and bowed. “Martell? Are you not a long way from Drone?” Aemond gritted as he let out his hand to shake the prince’s hand. He wanted to smirk as he saw the man’s tanned face twist into a wince before quickly masking it. “Yes, my prince, I come as a suitor for my lady,” He explained, and Aemond pursed his lips at his words. 

You licked your lips as you suddenly felt the fresh air become tense, “Would anyone like some tea?” You suddenly interrupted the intense gazes of the two princes, walking in between them as you made your way toward a nearby table that had the afternoon’s refreshments. Aemond tapped his finger on the table, his eye shifting between you and your intended whilst you poured tea into everyone’s cup. “If I may ask, what business warrants your presence here, Prince Aemond?” Prince Martin inquired, and Aemond reluctantly shifted his attention from you, who was licking sugar from your fingers. 

“A proposal for House Tyrell,” he said bluntly, swallowing thickly as your lips parted at the mention of your house. “What proposal, if I may ask,” Your turn to inquire. Aemond licked his lips and debated if he should give you the true manner of his visit. “A proposal for you, my lady, to be a princess of Westeros.” You feel dazed by his words, your body freezing in shock, and you seem to forget how to breathe. 

Aemond looked at you expectantly, trying to search for any reaction in your eyes other than the pronounced shock. You were saved from his expectation of a reply when you heard your father calling for you. “I— excuse me, my princes,” You say in a haste and hurriedly went to your father’s call. 

“What is happening— the prince just informed me of his proposal— in front of Prince Martell!” You panicked, recalling the scene to your father with wide eyes. You watched as your father paused his lips, an aggravated sigh leaving his nose. “Bold of him to inform you of such proposals when I had not even given him my reply.” You shook your head and warily turned to the gardens, where you saw two princes seated by a distance. 

“Where did this proposal come from? I… I do not understand,” You whispered, recalling your days in the Red Keep; the moments with the prince that you tried to sell to yourself were meaningless to him. However, you supposed you sold yourself with a lie because those moments were enough for him to ask for your hand. Hope was dangerously blooming in your heart, emotions, and festering feelings you tried hard not to succumb to for the past days, now inevitable. 

“The proposal comes because the crown cannot pay the debt due to us… instead, they are offering a marriage between you and the prince and a fourth of the sum owed,” The hope that was dangerously blooming and had rooted itself in your heart quickly wilted, willing yourself not to show disappointment on your face. “Oh,” Was all you could utter. “What is your decision then?” You asked quietly as your father guided you further into the walls of your home. 

“Your courtship with Prince Martell has been settled for three years since your sixteenth name day, but no formal betrothals are in place, and we are in no obligation to the Martells,” Your father stated as you two walked along the corridors. “But Sunspear is a long way from here,” Your father added, “And though Kingslanding is closer, and if I were being honest, I would prefer you to be a princess of the whole of the seven kingdoms rather than just Dorne,” You twirled with your hair as you listening into your father’s musing. “But this marriage is just a way out of their hefty debt,” You nodded along and waited for your father to decide. 

“So? Which one of them?” You asked as you needed an answer, your nerves growing unbearable. Your father took in a deep breath, “I shall leave that decision to you… it is you who shall marry one of them; the money is not truly that much of a concern— it was simply a bargaining tool for the crown to remember how indebted they were to us,” Your father explained, and your lips parted as you were given a daunting task. 

“Can I speak with Prince Aemond for a moment? I… it is— I need to speak with him,” you say, and your father gives the nod, “I shall have him meet you in the drawing room,” You waited nervously for the prince, your mind running as to what to say to him. You stood when the prince entered the room, your lips parting, ready to speak something you were uncertain of, but Prince Aemond spoke first. 

“I know this is quite abrupt,” Aemond spoke and dared to step close to you, trying not to grow distracted by your mere ethereal presence. “It is my prince,” You agreed. “Could I just ask why?” Aemond frowned at your words; it was quite a straightforward proposal. “The crown owes your house,” He said matter of factly, “I know, but we ask for coins or land but not a marriage,” Aemond licked his lips, “And I am aware that the marriage is a substitute. However, you would understand that no one would be that inclined to accept a proposal just because the one giving the proposal is in debt.” 

“Is this a rejection?” Aemond took another step, closing most of the gap between you. He was aware that he was scowling severely, scarily even, but you did not seem to be frightened, a first for anyone he had encountered. “More of a question,” Aemond’s brows raised at your words. “Well, it’s clear that this proposal is just an obligation for you, and if I am being honest… I prefer someone who would not see a mere business dealing.” 

“All marriages are business dealings,” You pursed your lips at the prince’s words. “I supposed they are… but not every marriage is just a business dealing.” Aemond licked his lips, and the both of you were enveloped in silence. “I guess what I’m saying is… I would not feel inclined to choose someone who proposes because it is their obligation,” You say slowly, surprised that you managed to come across your answer. If it were any other situation where the crown was not indebted to your house, you would accept the proposal eagerly, but your heart idealistic heart yearned for someone who wanted you truly and did not see you as a mere opportunity. 

“My lady, I think you have gotten the wrong idea here,” You furrowed your brows as all were clear to you. The proposal was just an obligation… isn’t it? “No one forced me into this proposal; the queen could not find a solution. This marriage had not even crossed her mind— I…” Aemond passed as you waited on bated breath for his explanation. “I have offered the marriage not because of duty or a way for the crown to escape their debt but because… I— I want you. I want you to be my wife.” 

You looked at him with clear apprehension, and Aemond actually believed that you would flash him your sweet smile— perhaps a blush on your cheeks as he had said words so unlike him. “You want me?” You asked incredulously, and Aemond nodded, boldly taking your hands into his. “But why? We barely know each other?” You asked. Frowning as your eyes go downwards toward your hands clasped with the prince’s cold ones. “Why?” Aemond asked in disbelief you would ask such a question? You nodded. 

“Because I just do,” Aemond licked his lips as it would appear that that was the wrong answer, watching as you stole away your hand and your lips turned into an adorable pout he was very much tempted to kiss. “I— Because you are pretty, overly pretty,” Aemond spoke and hoped that would sway your mind, but that seemed even to offend you. “And because you are knowledgeable, I have never met anyone who had the same philosophical interests as me,” Aemond quickly added, and he wanted to smile as that lessened your frown. 

“And most of all, because you are kind. You are… you are not one to judge— you came to Kingslanding without any criticism or fear of me. You actually saw me as an actual person and not…” Aemond trailed as he felt a sense of relief as he said the words he thought none could ever compel him to do so. “Not like a weapon?” You almost laughed as you often heard others allude to him as such. Aemond nodded and took your hands into his once more. 

“You want me because I was kind and took an interest in you?” You asked, making certain that was his reasoning. Aemond nodded and dared to tuck a stray hair that obstructed his view of your face. “If that is all that it took, what if then another comes along and presents you with such kindness and interest… am I simply to be set to the side?” Aemond sighed and cupped your cheek as he felt his stomach twist at your words and at the look of doubt in your enchanting eyes. “What if—“ You were ready to voice out another doubting scenario, but your lips were kissed shut. 

You feel heat bloom into your cheeks, and you are stunned as you feel the prince’s thin and cool lips upon yours. Your eyes were wide at the sudden contact, but they fluttered to a close as you savored the feel and taste of him. “I do not know what more to say to quench the doubts in you… but you must know, I have never felt such a way— I have never wanted anyone or anything as much as I want you.” Aemond whispered against your lips as you breathed heavily, your body feeling afloat and alight. 

“The situation is not the most favorable one; believe me, I understand your qualms— but it is the only opportunity I had to make you mine,” You feel liquid fill your stomach, and words cannot find you. The only thing you could do was go to the tip of your toes and kiss the prince’s lips once more, a chaste kiss than the first, but it was a kiss that gave the prince his answer. 

Three moons passed before your nuptials were settled. You stood by the door of the great hall, waiting for it to open and lead you to your soon-to-be husband. “Are you certain?” Your father asked as he clasped his arms with yours. You breathed out a laugh and nodded your head eagerly. “I am,” You said with a smile and took a deep breath as you heard the trumpets from the other side of the door. 

Aemond sighed longingly as he saw the smile on your lips again. The smile that he had never been the receiver of before. The sweet and kind smile that led to all of this. 

You beamed at your groom as he took your hand into yours, unable to remove your gaze from his unique lilac eye throughout the whole of the ceremony. “I am his, and he is mine,” You recited after the Maester, feeling Aemond lightly squeeze your hand as you said the words, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips. When it was Aemond’s turn, you bit your lip as you felt your smile grow wider, your heart beating loudly in your chest, and delight taking hold of your whole body. “I am hers, and she is mine,” Aemond stated, eye filled with sincerity and promise. 

You breathed in a deep breath as your husband stepped forward to seal your marriage with a kiss, your cheeks burning as you heard the cheers of your guests. “My flower,” Aemond whispered against your lips as you parted, his finger brushing away the stubborn lock of your hair once more. You could only smile upon him, your heart in your eyes— just one act of kindness, a simple smile had been the catalyst for you to find your love. 

You chewed on your cheek in anticipation as you were being led down the halls by your husband, the bedding ceremony promptly taking place after the feast. 

Aemond spared no second before claiming your soft, sweet lips once more. Gently pushing you upon a pillar in his chambers to keep you steady and flush against his body. “Aemond,” You called as you clung to his neck, his lips trailing downwards and his fingers undoing the laces of your gown. “You’re all mine, my flower… forever bound to me, my kind little wife.” Aemond hummed as he tasted your skin, his lips kissing your bare shoulders, the sleeves of your dress draping off. “I’m yours, my prince,” You sighed, but you felt slight dread in your stomach as he clicked his tongue in disapproval and slowly shook his head. “I am your husband… you must learn to call me by my name; no more titles and formalities,” Aemond lowly said, wanting to hear his name be uttered from your lips. 

You nodded, “I’m all yours, Aemond,” You said and whimpered as your husband’s eye darkened, and he forcefully slammed your lips. You feel your dress pool to the floor as he successfully removes it; he takes hold of one of your thighs and makes you cling to him, leading you to your shared bed. Aemond gently laid you down and parted your lips to admire the view of you sprawled before him. The thin sheet of your shift reveals all to him. 

You gasped in utter shock as you felt him tear away the thin cover you had, fully exposing you to him. A strained moan left your throat as Aemond dipped down and took one of your tits into the hot cavern of his mouth, his tongue teasing the bud. You clung to his silvery locks; just that action alone made your core tighten painfully. Aemond smirked as he moved to pay attention to the neglected mound, your hips grinding upon his as you sought friction. 

“Aemond, I…” You called, uncertain of what you wanted, but all you knew was that you needed more. “Yes, wife?” He hummed and placed open-mouth kisses upon your stomach. “I… I—“ You stuttered, not knowing what to ask. Aemond sighed and moved his head to kiss your lips, “Do you want more… do you want to be pleasure, my flower?” He asked, as he could not be so cruel to leave you in such a state for much longer. You eagerly nodded your head. 

It did not take long for you to be a moaning mess, your eyes rolled back in your head, and your back arched as Aemond placed his mouth upon your cunny. Licking and teasing your folds, “Aemond! Oh, gods!” You called in utter pleasure as you felt his thin lips enclose your sensitive bud, sucking and licking it. You battled with your mind-numbing pleasure as you propped yourself on your elbows to watch his actions. He looked up at you, grinning as his fingers teased your undefiled whole. You bit your lip and breathed heavily, boldly taking hold of the leather strap of his eye patch. You saw as his eye darkened, and you hesitated, but Aemond gave a nod. 

As you removed his eye patch, Aemond pressed his finger into you, your eyes rolling back as you saw his sapphire eye. Aemond returned his lips to your cunt, sucking on the bud as his fingers pumped in and out. He felt your walls clench around the digits and your moans growing louder. Through your closed eyes, you feel him smirk against your skin and curl the digits inside your cunt— a loud moan leaving your lips as you come undone. Your hips violently move against his face, and the pearl of your cunt hitting gains his angular nose. 

“Oh gods,” You say breathlessly as you feel Aemond’s weight atop of you. You undid the laces of his vest as he removed his trousers. You looked downwards and saw the whole of your husband, his warm, pulsating length resting upon your thigh. The head of his cock weeping a clear liquid. “W… will it fit?” You say in disbelief, never having thought that something so phallic could be so… large and appealing. “Of course, you were made for me, my flower.” Aemond lowly said and kissed your lips as he aligned himself with your cunt. 

You dug your nails onto his shoulders as he slowly tore his way through you. Him hushing your cries of pain and kissing away your tears. “It hurts— Aemond, I… it’s too much,” You cried, your legs wrapping around his waist. Aemond reached downwards and drew circles upon your cunt to aid your pain. You waited for the pain to bleed into pleasure. Aemond tightly shit his eye as he felt the tip of his cock brush against a rough spot in your cunt, him fully sheathed inside you. He made cautious thrusts, watching as you would acclimatize to his length, and when he saw your eyes roll back, that was his sign to fasten his pace. 

Aemond’s found your lips once more, muffling your moans and whimpers as his cock was relentlessly hitting the spongy spot in your cunt that made your core come undone over and over again. You were on the verge of your fourth climax, each of them coming quickly after the other, and your thighs started to shiver at the pleasure that had enveloped you fully. “Aemond… It’s too much. I— husband, I cannot,” You cried as you felt a different sensation, an odd pressure in your core unalike the other times you came. Aemond clenched his jaw as his cock twitched inside your cunt, “Just… come for me one more time, my flower,” He gritted as he wanted to coax another peak from you. 

Aemond laid his thumb flat against your nubbin and rubbed circles once more, your voice already hoarse from your loud moans. “Oh… Aemond!” You cried as the quivering of your thighs grew, and you felt the pressure in your core come undone; a differing climax from the first three overcame you. Aemond groaned loudly and tilted his head back as he spilled his seed deep in your cunt. You breathed heavily as you tried to comprehend what had happened, wetness pooling between your thighs, and an embarrassed blush spread through your cheeks and neck. 

Aemond smirked and shook his head, trying to soothe the mortification in your eyes. “I knew you were capable of it,” He hummed and kissed your lips. He knew it was perhaps too much to test your limits in your first night together, but he could not help himself; he needed to have you in such a way. “My perfect wife,” he hummed against your skin, and your reply came through your tired smile. 

[seiwas]

i’ve been busy and it’s been awhile and i haven’t popped in for a hot minute BUT i just had a sudden thought about iwaizumi (˶˃ᆺ˂˶)

you’re in the point of your relationship where you both know your feelings for each other but haven’t made it official yet. he’s studying overseas while you’re in your home country, both of you busy pursuing your own dreams. the difference in timezones has been particularly challenging—the missing presence, the frequent missed calls, the late replies, and, most especially, the intense longing. however, as you have fallen asleep while waiting for him, tired beyond words from the intense day you’ve had, he’s over there sitting at his desk at his apartment after class, looking at his phone contemplating whether he should call you still—he knows it’s late, and he knows you deserve a restful sleep, but he can’t shake off that feeling of longing, the sound of your voice, the shine in your eyes, and even the softness of your lips… he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but he finds himself pressing the dial button anyway—sleep and timezones be damned (genuine apologies from hajime to you), he misses you so much he can’t help but be overcome with selfishness. and it’s okay, it’s worth it he thinks, especially with the way you groggily greet him with that sweet smile of yours, your eyes gleaming with warmth albeit the darkness of the room. he sees it, he feels it through the small screen. “sorry, did i wake you?” he knows he did, but he really can’t help it. “it’s alright, i was waiting for you to call, anyway” you tell him smiling sleepily. and god he feels it, making his heart beat a steadily fast pace causing him to feel warm all over. he hopes you feel it too because after you both bid your sleep well and good night, his heart whispers those three words he’s been wanting to say, but he’d wait, oh he would wait, just a little longer… just until before the coming break because he finds himself booking a flight, the fastest one to get to you. he does so spontaneously because he’s selfish, just to see you, to hear you, and to maybe, no, absolutely show you just what he feels seeing you smile on that call, but this time, he hopes to accompany it with a kiss and those three words his heart is dying for you to hear…

OMG didn’t expect it to be long but!!!JDHDIDJS also honestly i originally am not a hajime truther (,,>ࡇ<,,) but i have seen the light through you and i have been enlightened ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ (lmao) okay, i am going back to fighting irl battles now! i hope you have a wonderful day ahead of you (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ(i’ve been brewing (heh) some matcha experiments lately and would share some thoughts next time i drop by ໒( ˵ •̀ ᴗ •́˵) until then, teehee)

-matcha nonie<3

matcha nonie hello!!! so lovely of you to drop by 🥺 i hope you’ve been getting lots of rest despite you being busy!! 🥹 i am looking forward to all your matcha experiments!!!! let me know what they are when you have the time 🥺🥺 lately i’ve been trying matcha + coffee (on my tired days especially akxnsj) and it definitely gives me a boost!!!

and w a hajime thought omg… 🥹 an ldr hajime thought too 🥹🥹🥹 matcha nonie. if i tell u. i think abt this all the time 😭😭😭 it’s one of my fave things to include in a slowburn hajime love story 😭😭 i think it’s a canon event ngl the yearning and the pining and the feelings there without saying anything is so him 😭

AND WHAT A COMPLIMENT to make u see the light 😭😭😭 i am so flattered n so touched… i think. he is such a special and specific brand of boyfriend i can’t even fully explain it 🥹🥹🥹 he’s just… him, y’know?

i also. may have written smth similar to what u just said 🥹 it’s in a privated fic here on tumblr, under my hajime series ‘(keep me) steady, hold me gently’ (tho i think it’s still up on my ao3!!) it’s called ‘by your name only’ 🥹 i’ve privated it bc i plan to redo the entire series 🥹 my writing has changed a bit since writing it (which is also why i wanna rewrite it, apart from formatting reasons).

BUT SINCE YOU JUST REMINDED ME OF IT WITH THIS LIL HAJIME THOUGHT OF YOURS—a snippet from one of my hajime fics under the cut!

When Iwaizumi takes up Sports Science in California, you stay behind and complete your degree in Japan. The time difference sucks; just as he starts his day, you’re ending yours. Still, you make an effort to talk within the window of hours you’re able to.

At 1:03 a.m., you are cozied up on your bed, night light casting a soft glow onto your tired eyes. You yawn, squinting at your phone while waiting for a familiar face to pop up on screen. A few minutes pass, and it vibrates, the picture you took of Iwaizumi that summer after high school on display.

You swipe your screen to find bright light streaking through the lens of Iwaizumi’s camera, obscuring your vision of him.

“Hold on,” he murmurs, before the view turns to black. Random blobs and shapes move around and you suspect that he’s probably wiping the lens while moving to a place with shade. “Sorry, just walking to campus right now.”

You wait patiently.

Soon enough, you are faced with a clearer visual of Iwaizumi, his spiky hair now shaped into a semi-crew cut—olive green eyes giving off the same stare you know can only belong to him. He doesn’t look much different from the photo assigned to him on your phone, but he doesn’t look the same either. The fact that you notice these changes means that time has passed, and you’re reminded that this is the Iwaizumi you no longer have—the Hajime you could have had.

“Hey,” he greets, sending you a grin. A few beats and recognition flashes through his face as he notices that you’re all tucked in bed, ready to sleep. “Shit, did I wake you?”

You laugh and shake your head, mushing your cheek against your pillow, “No, it’s okay,” you snuggle up to your duvet, “was waiting for your call anyway.” you readjust your phone and place both hands under your cheek, “You rushing to class today?”

“Not really.” he answers, looking up from the screen, presumably to cross a road. “First period canceled, so I’m heading to the gym for a bit. How ‘bout you?”

“Well,” a playful glint sparks in your eyes, “not rushing to class, no. Not going to the gym, either. Not in this outfit, I think.” you smile, suppressing a laugh. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but you can see traces of a smirk gracing his lips.

Since going to America, Iwaizumi has gone through a few changes: his confidence, his humor, and his temperament—all of which have gotten better. He’s a lot more relaxed now than he used to be, joking around and going along with your jokes every now and then. But underneath all these improvements, he retains the same qualities that make him the Iwaizumi you know (and love).

“Ha. ha. Funny.” he responds sarcastically.

A twinge pinches at your heart, and you think, God, this banter, it hurts. This is the soft spot you know he holds for you. You’re brought back to the same nastiest look he’d given you when you wrote the most horrible puns on Aoba Johsai banners during matches.

“I meant, how ‘bout you, you aren’t rushing to class tomorrow? Actually–” the video moves around and you catch a glimpse of him tapping his smart watch, a familiar black bracelet on his other wrist, “—shouldn’t you be asleep?” When he returns to the screen, worry lodges through his furrowed brows, a small pout forming on his face. You want so badly to be there to wipe it off.

“It’s fine. You called, so.” you say softly, gently, leaving room for your admission to ring louder. You know he understands because he’s done the same.

“Well,” he copies you, “I don’t want to keep you up. Sleep’s really important, you know.”

You hum in acknowledgment, “Okay,” disappointment poorly hidden in your tone.

But he knows, he always does. “Call me when you’re free later, I’ll pick up. We can catch up then.”

You smile and nod. A yawn escapes you, eyes slowly drifting shut. “Good morning, Haji.” you mumble.

He freezes.

He wouldn’t have heard it if not for his earphones (thank god he had them). It’s the first time you’ve ever called him Haji. Heat rises from the back of his neck, to the tips of his ears, down again to the expanse of his cheeks. The familiar thump sounds loudly in his ears.

“‘Night,” he responds, whispering your name before ending the call.

It takes him a while before he continues to walk towards the gym; his heart is pounding too hard and too loudly for him to focus on where to go. All that replays in his mind is the sound of you saying Haji, softly, tenderly—the way you encase the syllables of his name in comfort that feels like it belongs to your lips.

Haji.

He wonders if you meant to call him that.