#I’m so ready for my queen to put him in his place

[pupcuck]

(I COULD NEVER BE) YOUR WOMAN !

ft. og4!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. crossdressing, force fem, short instance of groping/harassment by some gross man, humiliation, dom!reader, a few misogynistic comments surprisingly not from leon, repressed homosexuality, leon n some unnamed cute guy, r slur is used ONCE by same gross dude, slight angst, implied/past sa very light tho, public sex, dub-con

note. title from white town duh has nothing to do w the fic. um unedited n quite bad not loving this but here u go.. 2000s clubbing.. I also want 2 say r slur is used by some dude who is just awful to leon in this.. not meant to be like . y’know there for shock value lol it’s a word I’ve been called a lot so that would be my last intention. um leon has some misogynistic thoughts but I don’t want them to come across as mine LMFAO I know that I do a very close pov so I don’t want my views to mix with the characters as people usually tend to think. comments n rbs greatly appreciated!

“You hate me,” Leon states like an upset child, one false lash deep into a murky pit he couldn’t even grapple hook his way out of.

“No, baby.” You shake your head, smiling at him like you hate him. “I love you very much.” The other lash is stuck on, black and spiky in kitchen knife points. He blinks and the heaviness does not melt away like sleep. “My sweet girl.”

“You do,” Leon says, he makes a vague gesture towards his attire, scooping nothing but air with his cupped hand, “hate me,” he adds after a second, the words hang heavy in the air like sopping wet laundry or a body from a tree. You’re busy giving him a once over, a small hand lightly grasping his chin to keep his head up. You’ve never held him so gently before, but this is how girls treat other girls, he supposes. With great care.

“What?” You use a lint roller to pick up loose fibre and tricky stray particles of dust. “Because I made you all pretty, honey?” You lean forward, and Leon, besotted, closes his eyes as if you’re going to kiss him. “I just did your makeup, no kisses, Leon.” Of course, that’s right, he forgot, no kisses. You lick your finger and smudge your work to give him that freshly fucked and wanting more appeal.

“Sorry.” He looks at his reflection.

Blink. Blink. Blink. His eyes make a tacky noise, as if each blink is unsticking them.

He looks ridiculous, not even like a drag queen, they are tasteful and deliberate in their art. He looks exactly like what he is - a man in a wig. There is no pretty way to put it because what he is looking at is not very pretty. The wig tickles his neck like a pale whisper. It is shining too brightly in the way all fake things do, plasticky in the buzzing bathroom light. Metallic shimmer dusts his eyelids like crushed stars, iridescent-pearlescent is all the rage nowadays, it’s barely visible past the thick black that lines his eyes like you’re actively trying to worsen his bags and push him into panda territory.

Leon thinks it is a good idea to think of nothing ever again, like ever. If he didn’t have that thought, if he didn’t sit opposite you at the dining table confessional-style, if he shut his mouth and never spoke a word—Then he would not be sitting here closer to tears than he ever has been, fists clenched tight enough to make coal into diamonds.

You thumb the corner of his glossed lips. “Ready?” You ask him, then turn to face him, pulling a smile that is so mean it’s somewhat ugly and out of place on a face like yours. “Don’t speak or you’ll ruin it, ‘kay?”

A bag big enough to carry a lip gloss tube and nothing else dangles on your pinky as you check your face in the mirror, usually your gloss would be in Leon’s breast pocket, or his back pocket. Whatever pocket he has available.

Today he has nothing of the sort, embarrassingly, you place a tube between his pecs and it stays. You tip your head back and laugh at him, swiping it away a moment later. “I’m only joking, Leon.”

A considerable amount of muscle has been dropped since he came back from Spain. Cooking is hard, eating is harder, and he only really makes the effort when you visit. You don’t pry, so it’s only now that he notices, filling out your dress too well, that his edge has almost completely been lost to softness.

And it’s still there—He’s still a man with a dick and balls first and foremost. His arms are big, and his chest juts out in the wrong way. Wrong. It’s all so wrong.

This thought is neutered by your hand on his too-big bicep, fingers curling to his shape as you guide him along the stairs in matching kitten heels, he clutches the bannister for support like he’s going into labour.

Today you drive. “Got to treat you like a princess,” you say, smiling at him. All teeth. You take off your heels and kick them beneath the seat where they’ll surely tangle in the cables.

Leon reclines in his seat, closing his eyes and breathing in and out, two minutes away from inducing labour. Dramatics, y’know? Because he’s a girl today, not because he feels like he is being gutted by a claw machine.

You drive, he tosses and turns and squints at the road ahead to hide his creased brow. You drive, and he wonders what led him to this very moment, what has become of him and his pity party life. But Simon Says and Leon does. You say and Leon follows blindly like a die-hard fucking fan of Jesus would. A disciple, he guesses, but in some way even that is too much credit. At least they were, like, on equal grounds. He’s too passive to be Judas, and too much of an unbeliever to be any of the other ones. He is just some fucking mangey street urchin suckling on the teat of a wild dog that Jesus patted once and cured and would not leave the poor dude alone.

Unfortunately, Leon takes instructions better than he does dick and that is his problem. Yeah, that’s what he was trying to say before it all got away from him.

The bouncer questions nothing, no ID is needed, which is both a relief and an insult to Leon. Does he look that old? This makeup, this dress, this stringy mop of a wig it ages him.

The bass of a thousand beating hearts rips through him.

If Leon was a girl he’d simply kill himself. It hurts too much. The dress is itchy and his chest is sweating and his full face of makeup is melting his skin into goop and his feet are killing him. He’s sorry for all those times he requested a girl keep her stilettos on during sex. He’s sorry to you for buying you shoes on all those anniversaries, birthdays and Christmases. He’s sorry for that time he requested a lap dance in heels on your anniversary, his birthday, and that joint Christmas. He is sorry to every fucking woman for the system that has been put in place that requires them to wear heels to work and to dinner dates and to pick their kids up from preschool.

“Are you hurting, baby?” You place a cool hand on his cheek, feather-light, ensuring you don’t smear his pasty foundation. When he nods, pitiful, you coo at him. “Oh, big ol’ Agent Kennedy, I’m sure you can handle it, sweetie.”

Leon shakes his head again, firmer and sadder. “You can handle it,” you tell him, smiling dropping as fast as it came. A hand comes to rest on his waist then slides upwards along his naked back, courtesy of the open back of his blue dress, gliding over his pronounced shoulder blades. Lily-white and spread sideways like lotus petals or something akin to angel wings.

The two of you end up in a booth with four men and a red-headed girl who is decently pretty. She talks too fast for Leon’s liking, and each time she opens her mouth, which is a lot of fucking times for a long fucking time, her spit flies out and lands on his face in beads.

There is a man who’s tall and strapping in the way Leon likes his men in the private fantasies he keeps hidden in the lonely gallery that is his mind. His experience with dick starts with Jack and ends somewhere before you. Jack taught him how to work a dick, and if Leon were to kiss and tell, he’d tell this man how much he wants to play with it, stroke it and love on it.

(Only if he was a girl, which tonight he is.)

You’re midway through telling a story, leant in for added effect, elbows on the sticky table. “And Leon says, she’s like—“ Your voice fades out.

Another guy, stout and ugly, sort of piggish in the face, asks, “Is it a dude?” He jabs his thumb in Leon’s direction. “That’s a dude's name.”

“What, no.” You frown, breezing over your blunder like fingers on silk. “It’s a nickname, y’know, from when we were kids, ‘cause she looks like a dude.” Laughter lifts into the air like plumes of smoke. Leon feels like he is breathing it in, tiny shards crystallise in his lungs and choke him.

He shouldn’t be humiliated, there is nothing to be humiliated about because he is what you say he is. He’s a dude. But he is humiliated, and it is driving him mad, he has killed himself in a hundred different brutal ways in his head while you talk.

“She don’t talk, she got a problem?” He says in his nasty, thick voice. “Is she retarded?” It sounds like there’s phlegm lodged in his throat all the fucking time. “Feminist?” Good lord.

“Oh my gosh, like, I don’t think you can say that,” the ginger smiles nervously.

“She just gets a little scared around guys.” Your smile is so cold it chills him to his core. “Bad experiences, y’know?”

Not exactly wrong. Leon is weary of shared showers, he is weary of urinals, of stalls with busted locks, and he is weary of other men, but he would never say it and he would never show it. But now, sitting here as a girl, as a woman, he trembles.

“Oh, yeah?” The dude sits back, spreads his legs to accommodate a dick he likely doesn’t have. Then he leaves it at that.

You kiss him to make up for the silence, you grope his tits—his chest through the fabric of his dress, you raise your Von Dutch tee to show off your cute heart-shaped pasties. None of it is for Leon, it’s for the guys sitting in front of you, because as a woman you exist for men, to perform and flash your panties and act like you’re into it.

Which you are, he knows your pussy is wet ‘cause of that look on your face, eyes glinting like marbles, you’re getting off on him being stretched past his limits.

An hour later, you push him onto the dance floor, watching through throngs of people and Leon is met with the pig-faced guy, he’s pink and sweaty like one too. Leon denies every advance he lays out. Then fingers splay over the round of Leon’s ass, and his flesh is gripped so tight it mottles how dicks purple.

The guy says something and everything and nothing but fluff. You uppity slut—You think you can—Speak up—Y’know, even the ugliest bitches have wet little pussies between their legs—

Leon really does not.

Leon could push him off. He could break his fingers, disable him, kill him in the middle of this godforsaken dance floor. But he just stands there and stares like a real woman.

(But he has always stood there and looked death right in the eye, it comes hurtling, barrelling into him at full speed like a shit-caked asteroid and all he does is stand there. He’s not had the energy to get back up lately.)

The handsome guy, the one that is taller than Leon, the one that he likes a lot, steps in and saves him. And this is what it must feel like, to be swept off your feet. To be princess carried and loved sweetly by someone worn and rough.

Christ, this wig has a mind of its own. Infecting Leon’s psyche with its mushy bullshit. He wants to go home. He wants a beer and a drag from your cigarette. He doesn’t smoke, but he will tonight.

“Are you alright?” The handsome man somehow manages to shout gently over the music. He is so nice, and so handsome it feels wrong to look at him. Leon thinks he knows, and when this man smiles, Leon knows that he knows for certain. “I won't tell.” He grins down at Leon again, soft and brilliant and kind.

Leon passes you on the way to the bathroom, he tells you that it’s getting stuffy in here, then he leaves to get stuffed with cock in the ladies room as all good boyfriends do.

The click of heels makes him suck in a breath, he plants two hands on the broad chest in front of him, tightens around the dick in him so hard he might cut off all blood flow, salty fingers in his mouth keep him from crying out.

Leon knows it’s you from the clink of your bangles. The source of chatter is the red-headed girl, you likely motion for her to be silent—He counts to twenty then meets your eye under the gap in the door. He whimpers around the fingers in his mouth.

“Oh my gosh, there’s totally someone in there,” you gush to the other girl who gasps, “I saw, like, two pairs of shoes, really cute heels.”

“She’s luckyyy, I hope she’s getting it good,” she sighs, “hey, where’d your friend go by the way, the blonde one?”

“Leon?” You seem to pause, weighing up your options. “She’s a total fucking slut.”

“No fucking way!”

“Yes fucking way, I bet she’s gone home with some guy already—I mean, she might be in that fucking stall, wouldn’t put it past her.”

In the stall, Leon shifts, back bumping the wall as he pushes his hips out, grinding down on his dick like he needs this over and done with.

“I could never do that…” The redhead says, “It’s, like, so icky in here…”

“I don’t think Leon minds,” you muse, “I mean, like, don’t tell her I told you, but she gets on her knees in club bathrooms, like, she’s dirty.”

“Gross!”

“I know!” You burst into giggles. “I told her that’s, like, way too far! I mean they don’t even clean these places properly, they send some underpaid dude with a Kleenex out to do the job.”

Leon’s knees ache with the guilt of sucking dick on his knees in a Kleenex-cleaned club bathroom. The dick inside of him throbs, a single push and it spills into the rubber.

The click of heels fades out as you and your newfound friend exit the bathroom.

“You let your friend talk about you like that?” The man asks, smiling still.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Leon says meekly in a voice that is not his. He has never been meek or scared or anything of the sort. Leon has guts, too many maybe, they make him stupid. That’s what he gets by on. That’s why Leon returns home. Because he tries not to make a place for feelings.

“I know.” The guy shrugs, he spins Leon around so his back is facing the mirrors. Leon twists his head to look. The striated planes of his back. Your nails in his skin.

“Oh.”

Leon gets in your car and apologises.

“Aw.” You pinch his cheek, uncaring of your heavy hand now that his lipstick is smeared in rings around another man’s dick. “I know, baby, my girl just wanted to have fun.”

My girl, my girl, my girl. He’s not your girl. You’re his girl, and he’s your man and that’s the way Leon likes it. He likes to drape his arm over your shoulders in place of a coat when it gets windy, he likes to pay the bill on dates, he likes to drive you around and he likes to hold your shopping bags. Because that is good and swell and—It’s normal.

You drive him home without saying a word, letting him sit and drown in the weight of his problems until you help him inside, he’s hindered by 1.5 inch heels.

When Leon tries to take his dress off, you stop him. “Princess,” you coo, his teeth rot and he smells the cavities, “I want to play with you.”

“Not like this,” he begs, gazing up at you through his false lashes.

“Yes, like this, baby.” You sit him down on the couch, you take off your heels and then bend down to unbuckle the strap on his. That’s his job. Leon should be doing that for you, a tender grip on your ankle as he threads the metal through the needled holes. “Look at these.” You stand back up, taking the seat beside him, one of your small hands grabbing the underside of his thighs and spreading him open, a leg thrown over yours. “These cute tits,” you say, kissing his neck as you shove your hand down the low-cut neck of his dress, grabbing at his chest in pinching handfuls.

“Don’t call them that,” Leon says quietly, his ears pink like the pucker of his hole.

“I’ll say what I want, princess, okay?” You kiss him hard, teeth knocking into his and your wet tongue running over his front teeth like you want to scrape the plaque from them. “I’m going to fuck you like a girl,” you tell him, pushing his legs as far as they go, his toes curl.

“I don’t like that—“

“I don’t like your dick or your stupid sex talk and I don’t like being fucking pile drived, do you think I like being folded like origami you stupid fucking oaf?” It’s said in the same measured tone of voice you always use, the one that makes him feel stupid. “This is what it’s like being a girl, baby, gotta do what I want.”

Then you lift your hips, skirt shed and panties to the side, puffy pussy swallowing the tip of his cock as you sit on it, taking it inch by inch by inch by inch. All four of ‘em. You hold onto his ankles as you fuck yourself on his cock, a soft squelch everytime his cock bottoms out, slick dripping down his thick shaft and balls.

Leon doesn't like this. How you have him. How you’re taking him, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling good. Your pussy is wet and warm and it squeezes around him, gripping his cock like it’s all you’ve got to live for. You reach between your thighs to rub your swollen clit, but Leon beats you, wanting to make himself useful.

“Good girl,” you praise, eyes rolling back into your skull as you slow your pace, coming to a halt as you place a hand over his, urging him to rub you raw. Then you cum as he presses his thumb into your tiny bud hard, cunt spasming around his dick, letting out a gasp and toppling forward into his chest. Leon’s cock slips out of your cunt, rock hard and lonely, he holds you as his legs drop to the floor, feet on the floor where they belong.

“I didn’t… I didn’t get to…” Leon looks at your face and then his stiff dick, pouting almost.

“I know, baby.” You kiss his head tenderly, so tender he nearly forgets why he’s upset. “But you’re a girl now, right?”

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy angst #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil angst #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Dutch Courage

Summary: When Max Verstappen invites Lando to celebrate King’s Day with him, he can hardly refuse. Especially when it’s a great opportunity to spend time with the Dutch man’s sister.

Lando Norris x Verstappen!Reader

WC: 2.9K

Warnings: Alcohol (over)consumption

Masterlist

The first time Lando really came in contact with the Dutch culture was during his first Dutch Grand Prix. The atmosphere of the race, the enthusiasm of the people, and the taste of stroopwafels immediately made him like the Netherlands. When Max introduced him to more Dutch traditions and told him about the extreme celebrations of the King’s birthday, he couldn’t believe it. His experiences with the Queen’s birthday were completely different, much more sophisticated and ceremonial than the Dutch celebrations. You could say he was gobsmacked when he saw the videos; people dressed all in orange, filling the streets and canals, drunkenly partying like it was a festival. When Max extended an invitation to join him next April, Lando accepted straight away, eager to experience the unique tradition.

And so, next April 27th, Lando found himself in Amsterdam. He was passing tons of people stalling out their stuff on blankets, sitting on folding chairs by their improvised shops. They were all dressed in orange, of course. Lando, himself, had also adhered to the dress code. Sporting his orange hoodie, he’s ready to party all day long.

Lando made his way through the city, Google maps opened on his phone as he navigated the streets of Amsterdam. Luckily, Max’s apartment building was easy to find. Lando rang the doorbell, grinning when he spotted his Dutch friend. Lando could already hear the noise coming from the apartment while he greeted Max, the sound of music and singing passing through the walls.

“Hey man, what’s up?” He asked.

“Nothing much. What about you?” Max responded while welcoming Lando into his second home, leading him into the hallway.

Lando was about to answer his question, but the unexpected sight in the living room disrupted his train of thought. A confused frown etched itself onto his face, and he asked, “Why are there so many girls in your house? Don’t you have a girlfriend already?”

Max laughed at the question, “Oh yeah, they're my sister’s friends,” he responded nonchalantly as if they weren’t appropriating his apartment.

“You sister’s friends? Why are they taking over your place?”

“They’re getting ready to go out in a bit. Since I live closer to the centre than Y/N, they’re leaving from here. I told them to stay the night too, I don’t want Y/N and her friends to travel home in the middle of the night when they’re all drunk.”

Lando nodded as he observed the herd of girls getting ready. It was a mess – even compared to how his sisters got ready. They were doing lots of things at the same time: passing the phone around to pick music, singing along to whatever Dutch song was playing, taking pictures, talking, doing their makeup, fixing their hair, picking out accessories and putting flags on their faces; it was complete chaos, but they didn’t seem to mind.

“I’ll get you some water, mate,” Max said before walking to the kitchen, leaving Lando alone with the women. 

It took a while for Y/N to spot Lando, but when she did, she came over right away. “Lando! How are you? I haven’t seen you in such a long time!” She said excitedly as she pulled him in for a hug.

“I’m good. It’s your fault we haven’t seen each other in so long, you never come to races anymore,” 

“Yeah, sorry about that. Life’s been busy. So, I hear today’s your first King’s Day, are you excited?”

Lando chuckled, “Ah, yes it is. Of course, I’m excited. I’ve been told it’s quite the experience!”

“It certainly is. I would’ve expected you to wear more orange though, isn’t it your team’s colour?” She questioned him teasingly.

“Is my hoodie not enough?” He asked, looking down at his outfit.

“Oh Lando, you know it’s not! Didn’t Max show you the videos? Come, I’ll put some flags on your face,” she said as she pulled him into the group of girls. 

They all greeted him enthusiastically as Y/N searched through the pile of orange and red-white-and-blue-coloured accessories, looking for something that would fit Lando. She pulled out a ribbon of the Dutch flag and grinned widely. Lando stood still as Y/N wrapped the ribbon around his head like a headband and tied it with a bow. “Very coquette, I’m sure your lady fans will love it,” she murmured and grabbed his jaw to turn his face to the side. A look of focus overtook her features as she gently applied the face paint to Lando’s cheeks. 

Lando was caught off guard at the situation he found himself in. He had barely stepped foot in the apartment and he was already being pulled in all kinds of directions as the whirlwind of women fussed over him, dressing him up for their sacred holiday. He caught Max’s eyes over Y/N’s shoulder, silently pleading for rescue, but Max merely laughed at the situation in which Lando had trapped himself, not offering any assistance. Instead, he stood by and watched with amusement as Y/N picked out things for Lando to wear and offered him an orange poncho for the rain that would probably come later today. Lando had no choice but to go along with it, accepting everything as it came. It was only a small effort for him, and it seemed to make her happy.

Y/N only let Lando go once she was satisfied with his outfit. He quickly rushed to Max, who offered him a glass of water with a big grin on his face, “She got you, eh?”

“Apparently, my orange hoodie was not enough,” he responded.

Max pat him on the back, “Don’t worry, I was a victim earlier,” he replied, pointing to his cheeks covered with face paint.

Not much later, the girls finally settled down. They were nearly ready to leave, the only thing they needed before heading off was a decent meal. If they were going to get wasted, they should at least have a good base. Y/N and her friends had organised a feast that could feed everyone and then some, with food left to spare. After the generous lunch was consumed, the women had some drinks to get a headstart before they packed their purses, making sure they had all the essentials covered. They divided the tiny bottles of alcohol they had bought in advance, and Lando watched in shock and disbelief as every girl shoved at least two tiny bottles down their bra. Meanwhile, Max seemed entirely unimpressed – as neutral as one could be.

Y/N and her friends had gotten tickets to Kingsland and the alcohol there was way too expensive to get drunk. If they needed to sneak in some alcohol to get properly pissed, that was a problem easily solved. The girls said goodbye and headed out the door, leaving silence in their wake.

The men didn’t leave that much later and headed over to the boat where they would meet Martijn, aka, Martin Garrix, with whom Max and Lando were both good friends. They would spend their time partying on the boat, getting just as drunk as Y/N and her friends before joining Martijn for his performance at Kingsland, where they’d meet up with the girls.

It was hours, and a shit ton of drinks, later when Max called Y/N to let her know they arrived at the festival grounds. In the meantime, a lot had happened: Y/N’s group of friends had gained at least three more people, Lando had cut his nose open on a glass bottle, and Max, somehow, managed to fall off the boat.

Y/N was dancing with her group of friends, going crazy for the songs the DJ was playing when she suddenly felt hands on her shoulders. She turned around immediately, surprised at the presence of a new person and ready to defend herself against whoever decided to touch her. That is, until she noticed the person behind her was Lando. As soon as she recognised the man, she, very drunkenly, jumped onto him. Y/N claimed she hadn’t seen him in so long as she put her entire body weight on the man who, unsuspecting of the move and unstable from the amount of alcohol he had consumed, nearly fell over. Y/N giggled innocently at the interaction, holding Lando’s arms tightly to prevent their fall. She looked up at his face while she did so, noticing the bandage on his nose.

“What did you do?” She slurred, frowning concernedly while running a hand along his face. That wasn’t a good choice; she lost her balance as soon as her hand left Lando’s arm. Lando, his own state not much better, grabbed her waist, trying to stop her wobbling.

“Got hit in the face with a broken beer bottle,” he replied with a grin and Y/N giggled at the image forming in her mind. 

“That’s so stupid. Did it hurt?” she asked.

Lando laughed loudly, “No, I’m too drunk to feel anything.”

Even though the comment is not that funny, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, nearly toppling over.

The group, now including Max and Lando, stood in the crowd, dancing to the music playing as it became busier in anticipation of Martin Garrix’s performance. The field they were standing in became more crowded by the second, pressing them closer to each other. There was barely any space left to move, packed like sardines in a can. When there were people who tried to pass, Y/N’s back was pressed tightly against Lando. So tightly that she could feel the warmth radiating off his body and his breath hitting her neck; so tightly that it made Max send Lando a warning glare. But it didn’t matter when everyone was drunk and there were too many people between them for Max to do anything other than stare angrily.

When Martijn began his set everyone cheered and moved along to the music. In Y/N’s current position, she was nearly grinding against Lando, but he didn’t seem to mind, holding her close with one hand while the other held his drink in the air. Nevertheless, she turned around, wanting to avoid conflict between her brother and Lando, and any pictures and rumours that would most likely arise when people spotted the world-famous Formula 1 drivers. That didn’t mean she’d avoid his touch, though; throwing her arms over his shoulders while he held her waist, they kept dancing together.

Martijn’s set ended way sooner than they would’ve liked it to, and it was only a while longer before the group left Kingsland for his penthouse. After all, when you’re invited to Martin Garrix’s after-party by the man himself, you cannot refuse. 

Somehow, they managed to get to his penthouse safely, where they kept the party going until at least midnight. Most of the people Martijn invited left after the fireworks, leaving a smaller group of people occupying the rooftop. After standing, dancing and jumping all day and night, the group finally found somewhere to sit for a while – just to let their legs rest. But, as luck would have it, there weren’t enough seats, because when are there ever? Before Y/N could even suggest she’d stand, Lando, in his drunken stupor, had already pulled her down to sit on his lap.

He smiled triumphantly as she sat, “You looked tired,” is all he said to justify it.

Despite her surprise, Y/N welcomed the closeness and leaned into Lando, resting her body against his while she sipped her Aperol and joined the ongoing discussion. It was the perfect way to end her night – surrounded by her friends, joking around and enjoying her drink. She enjoyed the drunken conversation, giggling whenever Lando would whisper a funny remark in her ear about whatever stupid comment someone just uttered. His commentary was so distracting that she didn’t even notice when he put his hand on her thigh and tightened his hold on her waist, pulling her closer.

Max, however, did notice. He had been keeping an eye on Lando since their interaction at Kingsland when Y/N was basically grinding on Lando. Knowing a warning glare didn’t do much last time, Max was ready to do just about anything to make his objections clear if Lando decided to take things too far in his presence. Especially when he saw Lando’s hand moving higher up Y/N’s leg while she solely giggled in his arms. It’s an understatement to say the alcohol made Lando bolder – he felt fucking fearless as he kept his gaze locked on Y/N, not removing his eyes for even a second, not until a loud voice interrupts the conversation, at least.

“Hey, mate, let’s keep it PG, yeah?” The tone of Max’s voice made the words sound a lot less casual and jovial than they usually would and Y/N’s cheeks flared up when she noticed he was referring to her and Lando. Lando’s hands shot up, as if Y/N’s warm skin burned his hands, lifting them in a gesture of surrender.

“Sorry man, didn’t even notice it,” he replied.

Max glowered at him, showing he was not messing around before returning to his conversation.

When Max’s attention shifted away from them, Lando tentatively placed his hand back. The alcohol running through his veins made him ballsy and fearless as he continued to make comments in Y/N’s ear. This time, she noticed his moving hand, a blush rising to her cheeks in anticipation of Max’s reaction. But he wasn’t paying attention to the two of them, not until he heard his sister laughing boisterously. Startled at the sound, his eyes darted over to the pair, widening in disbelief when he spotted Lando’s wandering hand edging closer to the hem of your skirt once again. Max’s instincts immediately kicked in at the sight – the audacity of this man.

“That’s enough, Norris. Hands off,” he commanded, his tone firm..

Lando’s confidence faltered under Max’s scrutinising gaze, and he removed his hand immediately. “Sorry, man,” he said, blushing at the attention. Max, too, had been drinking all day, and Lando didn’t want to risk another injury; the cut on his nose was enough for today.

Lando’s sudden change in behaviour was obvious to Y/N; his uncertainty and reluctance to touch her were palpable. In an attempt to reassure him, she leaned her head against his shoulder, cuddling into him while she kept the conversation going. She made eye contact with her brother, whose unrelenting glare softened at her comfort. All he wanted to do was to protect Y/N, but it now felt unnecessary as she seemed entirely at ease with Lando.

At some point during the night, Y/N took the initiative and grabbed Lando’s hand, placing it on her thigh. Lando was apprehensive at the gesture, looking over at Max to see his reaction, but he was focused on his sister. He watched her play with Lando’s hand, fiddling with his fingers and giggling into the crook of his neck. Max shifted his eyes to Lando, nodding at him before returning to his conversation – a sign of approval. If his sister was okay with it, initiating and encouraging it even, then he would accept it.

They stayed in the same position until people started to leave. When Y/N’s friends mentioned heading home, Max suggested everyone should go back, not wanting the girls to walk home alone while they were wasted. It took little convincing to get everyone into the elevator and out to the street to start the short journey (although much longer when drunk) back to his apartment. 

Lando and Y/N were walking next to each other, rounding up the group while Max was busy herding Y/N’s friends through the city. They were leaning on each other as they stumbled through the streets, laughing at Max who was frantically chasing the girls to make sure they took the right turns.

When they finally got back to Max’s apartment, the chaos of the night followed them inside as Max helped everyone to their beds. He had basically adopted Y/N’s friends as his sisters by now, fussing over them throughout the night. Occupied with the girls, Max doesn’t notice Lando following his sister into her bedroom. He sprawled himself out on the bed, barely kicking off his shoes, while Y/N got herself ready to sleep. 

She stumbled over to the bed while Lando watched her, both of them giggling as she nearly tripped over the shoes scattered around the floor. She curled up next to him on the bed, her body fitting perfectly against his. As they drifted to sleep, their whispers slowly faded into silence until the only sounds that remained were the soft snores from the cuddled-up couple, and the quiet stomps of Max trying to catch Y/N's giggling friends.

#Lando Norris #Lando #Norris #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Lando Norris fanfic #Lando Norris fanfiction #Lando fanfic #Lando fanfiction #Lando Norris x reader #Lando Norris x Y/N #Lando x reader #Lando x Y/N #Formula 1 #Formula 1 fanfic #Formula 1 fanfiction #F1 #F1 fanfic #F1 fanfiction #LN4 fanfic #LN4 fanfiction #LN4 x reader #LN4 x you #LN4 imagine #LN4 one shot #LN4 #Lando Norris one shot #Lando Norris imagine #Verstappen!Reader #Lando Norris x Verstappen!Reader

[letstrywritingmaybe]

The October prompts call for a sports team AU and of course on this first day, it’s a sad day for me sports wise. *sigh being a Steelers fan is pain

Look I know the sports AU should be soccer, I understand this, but I also don’t know shit about this sport. I lean towards a football AU, but I also feel like hockey would be so interesting. Baseball would make more sense though. I’m just kinda not sure what position he should play? Cause I have my biases and I just don’t know if it fits… I just also don’t think he would actually be good at any of the sports I love

Update: I am so excited for the AU you have no idea. I love when my fandoms collide! This is going to be so self indulgent (as if everything I write isn’t already)

Addition- I have a lot of insane ideas that never make it on docs. They’re just daydreams that I keep continuing in my head. Usually because I’m too lazy and don’t want to add another idea when I’m trying to catch up with my WIPs. But also because… I don’t enjoy getting yelled at for being “controversial” there’s so much we don’t explore with this fandom and I’m aware sometimes it’s just that I’m too American. But other times I’m like there are some very real issues that canon just ignores, which I get cause it’s like not that serious and it’s like a cartoon/anime. But sometimes I can’t stop thinking about the potential of it being darker, or if maybe we would just address this specific problem. But also, at my core I’m just a girlie who goes nuts over devotion. Loyalty is so important to me, and it’s a good trait that I often look for, but Omm when it gets to be too much I’m like yes! This! This is what I’m talking about. Being so insane and breaking all of your morals because you just love this person so much? Too much? Spiraling and the only cure is them? But it’s not healthy and maybe quitting cold turkey is the way to go, but it leaves you hollow and drives you even more crazy. Devotion to the point of insanity, whatever you ask I will do it as long as it means I get to keep you. There are no bounds for where I will go for you, it’s my duty, the reason why I’m alive. And now I’m thinking about the medieval verse *sigh

#cynful babbles #the obvious choice is he could be Justin Tucker but I love Tucker and I’m a shinichi hater #Omm I can see the scene so clearly in my head now. alright y’all it’s been decided #dude you know my least favorite thing about Shinichi is how freaking cocky he is and this AU will give me so much of this Omm imma hate him #I’m so ready for my queen to put him in his place #I miss reading romanogers fics I swear there were so many good ideas from my favs and I got to be friends with them??? amazing! #but no I’m still stuck on detco and have a hard time switching gears *sigh #literally the absolute best writers I’ve ever read have all been for my golden otp. I am still in awe at their talent #no other fandom has been able to compare. like I’m telling you they could be published authors I’m pretty sure a couple of them are

[hees-mine]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲? 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤! - 𝐋.𝐡𝐬

𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 ⚥ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, pregnancy.

“Goodnight, my little sweat pea,” Heeseung whispers while you both exit your two-year-old daughter's bedroom after reading her a nighttime story. “Come on, babe, let’s get ready for bed.” You nod as he puts his arm around the small of your back, guiding you to the bathroom.

Making your way over to the bathroom counter, you grab your toothbrush and wet it under the running sink.

Meanwhile, heeseung stands a bit further away from you, looking at your reflection in awe, looking at you like it was his first time seeing you, and he doesn’t even try to hide his smile or shameless stare.

You’re unaware of his gaze until he sneaks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing soft kisses all over your beautiful neck. “Hee, what are you doing that tickles?” you say while giggling.

“You’re so cute,” he mumbles on your neck, trailing his hands down to your stomach, rubbing your tummy as if you were pregnant. “Baby,” he murmurs softly, placing another kiss on your neck before asking you something he’s been meaning to for a while now. “Let’s make another.” he moves to your ear, nibbling on it softly. 

“Hee, I don’t know,” you say, a little apprehensive. You were both already taking care of a small child, and you didn’t know how you’d be able to take care of another, especially a newborn.

“Shh Shh Shh.” he trails his hands up and down your sides, squeezing softly as he stands tall behind you and looks at your face in the mirror. “Hear me out on this. First off, little sweet pea can have a playmate. Second, you’ll have more company in the house while I’m out, and I get to take care of you for nine whole months. And I know you love it when I treat you like a queen,” he smiles. At you before pecking your cheek. “Plus, we’re already doing such a great job with our first little one.” 

He was right you know he’s right and even you were thinking about it lately you definitely wanted to have another baby with him and grow your tiny little family together. “Hmm, I suppose you’re right.” You place your hands over his that are now resting on your belly.

“You sure baby? I don’t want you to feel like I’m persuading you. It’s just I think there’s more upsides than downsides, you know?” He explains.

“I’m sure, hee I’ve been thinking about it too.” you turned your head to the side, giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

“That makes me so happy,” he grins widely, and you can’t help but smile along with him. “My pretty girl,” he steals another kiss from your hands, going to your waist as he takes a step forward, pressing himself against you as a little preview of what you’re going to get later on. “I can’t wait to see you pregnant again,” he whispers softly and slowly withdraws himself from your frame. 

You can’t help but blush at his words as you both finish getting ready for bed.

After you both cleaned up, you went to your bedroom, and it didn’t take either of you long to get in the mood. Heeseung’s lips were already on yours in a messy, rushed kiss as he desperately gripped your sides and made out with you like he hadn’t in months. “I can’t wait to feel you,” he says it so casually while taking off his shirt, and you wonder how he could say something like that so easily cause you were short-circuiting from his words, not to mention the way he looked stripping off his shirt and pants he was driving you crazy, and you barely even touched him. “Baby number 2 on the way,” he laughs and lifts up the hem of your shirt. Your arms go up instantly, helping him take off your clothing, and he bites his lip when he sees that you are braless. He knew you went to sleep every night without one, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t always just as surprised when he saw you without it. “I have such a beautiful wife,” he leans in, bringing you closer to his chest, pressing another soft kiss to your lips, and when he pulls away, he looks completely drunk off the sight of you.

You whine impatiently, already a throbbing mess down there, as you cup his hardened length that was straining against his boxer briefs. 

The soft moan he lets out is enough to have you clenching around nothing, and you love the sounds he makes for you so much.

“Babe, I really don’t want to rush this, but I feel like my head is gonna explode if I don’t feel you soon,” he says almost painfully as he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours, trying to take deep, calculated breaths to calm himself down. 

You were not much better. It seemed like, after the mention of trying for another baby, you two just couldn’t control yourselves. “Me too, hee,” you whimper breathlessly.

“Glad I’m not the only one.” You both break into a fit of giggles, but it’s short-lived cause his hands soon find the waistband of your underwear and easily slip them down your legs while you do the same with his boxers.

You both step out of the last article of clothing, and he lifts you up gently, laying you down on the bed as he climbs over you. It doesn’t take you even a second to wrap your legs and arms around him, trapping him against your body. “Kiss me.” You don’t have to tell him twice before he’s attaching his lips to yours. Your tongues swirl together as you both hum in contentment, feeling somewhat level-headed now that you can actually feel feel each other.

Rotating his hips, he presses himself into you a bit more to run his length along your wetness, soaking his shaft in your beautiful essence.

“Hee,” you break away from the kiss in need of air because the feeling of him on top and rubbing against you was too much for you to handle.

“I love when you call my name like that.” he moves his head down to your chest, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses all over your perky mounds.

This man really wasn’t helping your situation. It’s like he didn’t know the effect he had on you. He was literally driving you insane. 

He puts his hand between your legs, propping himself up so he can stimulate you more before entering you, but that wasn’t necessary, especially this time around.

“Hee, please, just” he blushed at your bluntness, and without any hesitation, he held the base of his cock, aligning himself at your hole and easing inside you slowly. 

“Oh-“ his words get stuck in his throat the moment his tip touches your opening, and he can’t stop himself from pushing in deeper and deeper. The slide is like nothing he’s ever felt before, and he can’t quite comprehend how you feel better each time he has you. “Mmm babe,” his brows creased together, mouth parted in a silent moan. The only thing coming out was labored breaths as he once again had to calm himself cause he felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest from the sheer intensity of love and pleasure he felt.

You moan his name, your face mirroring his as you both stare into each other's eyes at a complete loss of words from the pleasure between your bodies and when he starts slowly thrusting, you both lose it.

He buries his face in the pillow next to your head, and you opt to kiss and nibble on his shoulder, attempting to quiet your sounds.

With every stroke, he whimpers in your ear, and with every whimper of his, you clench around him. His sounds of ecstasy always made you go so crazy. Everything about him was literally perfect. 

“Can’t wait to get you pregnant again,” he moans, and you feel him shudder above you. “Fill you up with my cum breed this pussy till you’re full of our baby.” 

Your eyes roll back in your head from his words. It was the perfect amount of sweetness mixed with burning desire. 

“You want that too, yeah? Gonna cream your pussy so good round after round stuff you so full of my cum you’ll have no choice but to get pregnant.” 

He balls up the sheets in his fist, grinding against your clit with every single move, and you swear you’re in heaven. “Yes hee, please fill me up,” you beg for him. “Wanna feel you cum deep inside of me. Make me pregnant.” You dig your nails into his back, trying your best to hold in your sounds, but it’s so hard that a few start moans fall from your lips.

“Fuck baby, shh,” he moans, shifting his head to press a few little pecks on the side of your lips, barely able to control his sounds from your words. “Can’t wake our little sweet pea.” propping himself up, he cups your right breast in his hand, massaging your erect nipple with his thumb, and when another moan dares to escape you, you hold it in and instead capture his lips in a proper kiss cause if you didn’t you wouldn’t be able to keep quiet.

The feeling of his soft lips working against your own and the slow yet rough strokes of his cock caressing your walls had you coming undone in seconds. He didn’t need a warning. He could already tell you were close, and the messy kisses, muffled whimpers, and uncontrollably spasming around his cock was the sign for him to let go and fill you to the brim with his seed so he could make his precious little wife pregnant. 

He moans into the kiss pumping you full of his cum, endless ropes of pearly white coating your insides and hitting your cervix.

Pulling away from the kiss, he whines, still throbbing inside you with each drop of cum he deposits. “I love you so much.” he wraps his arms around you as you tremble in his hold, still trying to process the intense orgasm that seemed to go on forever. 

“Love you too so much, seungie.” his eyes reflect yours, and they’re filled with nothing but love as he kisses you and once again leaves you breathless. You swear he’ll be the death of you.

He pulls out slowly, laying on his side of the bed while pulling you up to his chest and stroking your tummy. “I’m so excited,” he smiles vibrantly even after that intense love-making session.

“Seung, we don’t even kno-“ he holds his finger up to your mouth, shushing you.

“We are,” he smiles. “I can feel it, you’ll see,” he says confidently.

He kisses your forehead, and silence ensues for all of a minute. “What if we’re having twins?” You could literally feel how fast his heart was beating in his chest at the thought of having twins.

“Seung, please don’t get your hopes up.” You stroke his chest softly, but he’s definitely not listening to you.

“Think about it! Matching outfits, cute little family photos, they’ll be each other's best friends.” he sounds so excited that you can’t help but feel excited, too, and that idea sounded great.

And not only did it sound great, it was great cause here you both are a little over a year down the road, heeseung’s right and left arms holding his two baby twins while little sweet pea dangled off his leg. “Babe! A little help!” he shouts from the living room, and you come running out of the kitchen to help him carry the two boys while he picks up his daughter. “Thank you.” he smiles brightly and huffs out an exhausted breath after taking care of them all morning while you made breakfast.

“You’re welcome, love.” You smile and kiss his cheek, and the sight of you holding the two boys makes him melt. 

“Babe, what if we have another?” 

Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback.

#heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung #enhypen #heeseung #lee heeseung #lee heeseung smut #enhypen hyung line #enhypen fluff #enhypen lee heeseung #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen lee heeseung smut #lee heesung x reader #heeseung fluff

[hanafubukki]

Summary: Malleus offers you a happy ending.

[Can be seen as Lilia’s route/sequel to this fic]

“Take my hand YN, and I’ll make your happiest dream come true.”

You were frozen. It was tempting, especially now after seeing the hell Lilia went through. Your heart yearned to reach out and take his hand, but your mind screamed otherwise.

But the look gentle look in Malleus’ eyes-

“I-”

A hand concealed your vision before you were pulled backwards into someone, the familiar scent had you relaxing.

“What’s this? You’re trying to steal My YN away? What a petulant boy I raised.”

“I merely offered what will bring them happiness.”

“That’s my job. Tsk tsk I can’t believe I have to worry about one of you trying to steal them away from me. It seems I have to teach you a lesson still.”

“HAHAHA, you think you can take me on?”

“Of course I can! Who do you take me for? Now get ready!…and RUN!”

A hand pulled you away from the group as a malicious laugh echoed.

The calm after dealing with Malleus’ OB was very much needed. Your body aches in places you didn’t think possible, especially given that you were asleep most of Malleus’ blot.

But that was done, and the family was still healing. At least everyone was on the same page now. Lilia understood how much he mattered and his sons were able to express themselves to him.

A few strings were pulled and Lilia was allowed to stay, you are pretty sure that Malleus threatened the Headmaster or the Queen.

Either way, he wasn’t going anywhere which you were grateful for.

“Hot chocolate?”

You looked at the cup Lilia offered you.

You gave him a look, “Who made it?”

Lilia gave you a deadpan look, “I can make hot chocolate.”

“I don’t want it.”

Lilia sighed dramatically, “Silver made it.”

“Then I’ll gladly take it.”

“My son makes it and it’s okay, but if I make it-”

“I’ll die.”

You smiled into your hot chocolate as Lilia grumbled to himself.

The talk did them all good. I’m glad to hear him call Silver his son. Good for both of them.

“Curious minds can’t help but wonder.”

“Well, curious minds should ask.���

“What would your dream have been? If you had taken Malleus’ hand?”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, “I wouldn’t have taken it.”

Lilia pulled you closer, “Why not?”

“Because reality brings me more happiness than any dream could. I have you and everyone else here. No dream can beat that.”

You took his hand in yours, “Besides, only reality can give me what I truly wish for.”

You tapped on a certain finger, smiling at the slight widening of his eyes.

I want to be with you for the rest of our lives.

The smile Lilia gave you then had you falling for him all over again.

Bonus:

“Boys! YN proposed to me! Oh~ I am so flustered~”

You don’t look flustered. In fact, you look like the cat who ate the canary…I wonder if it’s to late to ask Malleus to put me to sleep.

...I seem to keep writing proposals in my Lilia fics 😂🥰

💚🌺💞🌻 Hope you enjoyed.

#twst x reader #lilia vanrouge #twisted wonderland x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #twst lilia vanrouge x reader #twst x you #twisted wonderland x you #malleus draconia #twst lilia #Lilia Vanrouge x you #twisted wonderland x mc #lilia vanrouge x mc #twst fluff #twisted wonderland #twst #twst headcanons #twst scenarios

[fanwarriorfictions]

Not Again - Part Nine

Summary: Y/n is desperate to try and get home, willing to face near death again to try if she must. Azriel is not willing to let her risk herself, and fortunately neither is the rest of his family.

Warnings: she’s a little angsty

Series Masterlist

-Part Nine-

“You’re not trying it again,” Azriel snarls, arms crossed over his chest, “We don’t even know what went wrong in the first place, you could’ve died.”

Y/n sighs, rubbing her temples, they’d been at this for hours now, surrounded by the inner court. So far, no one seemed to be on her side, least of all Azriel. As soon as the words had left her mouth he’d been seething, that quiet calm mask replaced by burning rage.

“Give me the book of breathings and I’ll figure it out,” Y/n snaps back, bearing all of her teeth at him, “I must have misread something. Maybe the ancient busy body will have answers for me.”

“You’re not going anywhere near that book!”

“Az, chill out,” Cassian says, gripping his brother’s arm, “Let’s all calm down and think for a damn moment.”

Y/n slumps into her seat, glaring at Azriel as he paces on the other side of the table, the only thing keeping them from lunging at each other and tearing out each other’s throat. He glares right back, shadows whipping around him like they might grab her and strap her to the very seat she sits on to keep her from trying the spell again.

“Azriel’s right,” Feyre sighs, “That book was holding you hostage, and the book of breathings has done the same to me, I don’t want to risk you getting hurt again, or worse.”

“I’m not a child in need of your protection,” Y/n says, ice cold and guarded.

“No,” Amren says then, “But you are stranded and in need of our help. We will not risk ourselves because you want to foolishly run head first to your death.”

“Y/n, it’s in your best interest to take it slow, and let us help you,” Rhys chimes in, “I felt something when you opened that portal, something dark, powerful. There’s something out there, and whatever it is took an interest in out dear Y/n here.”

Y/n’s shoulder lock up, and Azriel’s glare turns to ice, “You already knew that didn’t you?”

“What was it?” Nesta leans on the table, steely eyes staring directly into Y/n’s soul.

“I don’t know,” she says, holding that piercing gaze, not backing down an inch, “I heard something, when I was trapped. Something cold and wicked.”

“What did it say?” Azriel demands, stepping closer to the table that separates them, multiple times in the last hour she’d been half tempted to leap across that table and fight it out with teeth, fists, and daggers, “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“Oh please.” She rolls her eyes, and she can see the exact moment it crawls beneath his skin, he looks half tempted to strangle her, “It’s kind of hard to talk when you’re to busy shoving your tongue down my throat.”

“I’m sorry,” Mor says, looking at Az with wide eyes, “What?”

“Listen, princess.” Azriel leans on the table, ignoring Mor, ignoring the rest of his family who look between the two with varying degrees of alarm, “I don’t give a shit about this whole, I’m tougher than the world act, you’re scared and I know it, I can fucking see it, so go ahead and tell me what the fuck it said.”

She practically hisses at him, leaning forward in her seat, arm in casual reach of the blade at her thigh, “You don’t fucking know me, shadowsinger.”

“That’s enough,” Feyre snaps, “if you two can’t be civil together one of you can get out.”

Azriel looks ready to argue but one sharp glare from his high lady has him backing down. He turns on his heal, taking three long strides away from the table, putting distance between them like it would cool the raging flames in their eyes.

“What did you hear?” Feyre asks calmly, that air of dominance in her voice, High Lady, a queen in her own right.

Y/n holds her head high, meeting Feyre’s eyes, she may not be a queen but one day she would be, and she would bow to no one, “It told me to pay the price, gods killer’s kin.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Cassian asks, “Why can’t these things just say what they mean?”

“When my mother banished the gods to that hell realm to die,” Y/n says, “It would seem not all of them did. And whoever survived is demanding the price my mother was supposed to give.”

“And what price is that?” Azriel’s voice is deadly soft.

She could feel the anger radiating off of him, not necessarily at her, not necessarily not at her. He was angry that she’d nearly died, that she was willing to do it again if it meant going home. He was angry at her for being so damn stubborn that she wouldn’t listen, that she wouldn’t let him play protective fae male. She was angry to, so gods damned angry at the Wyrd for handing her this fate. For bringing her here in the first place, for putting her in their lives, in his, only to take her away again.

“My life.”

Azriel felt the words echo through him, bouncing around in his skull, each syllable cracking another piece of him until he was on the verge of shattering. My life, my life, my life, her life, her life, her life, her, her, her. Sharp stabbing pain in his chest like each word was a ash arrow through his sternum and directly into the heart beneath.

“No.”

“You don’t-“

“No,” he growls again, gaze matching Y/n’s, fire and ice pushing and pushing against each other to create a storm.

“We don’t know what this thing is,” Rhys interjects, “If it’s an actual god like thing, one of Quinlann’s Asteri, or something else entirely. Amren will search that dreadful book for answers about the gate. You two, will sit and calm the fuck down, and the rest of us will get back to work.”

The High Lord’s voice held an air of finality, no room to argue, even Y/n slumped in her seat, letting some of the cold fire go out. Amren is up and out the door as soon as Rhys stands, grumbling something beneath her breath about ungrateful little girls that has Y/n glaring between her shoulders like she was imagining that dagger strapped to her thigh buried between them.

“It will be alright, Y/n” Feyre lays a gentle hand on the female’s shoulder, “We will get you home, and if this god wants a fight, we will give it one.”

Azriel notes the shattered and broken look in Y/n’s eyes as she nods at his High Lady. He is so busy examining each of her motions that he doesn’t notice his family file out, doesn’t notice the concerned eyes and subtle glances between him and the female before him. She won’t look at him, he can tell she is actively trying not to meet his gaze. Fine, if she wanted to play the silent game, he’d play it and he’d win. They were going to have this out one way or another.

He sits across from her, arms crossed over his chest, eyes searching her face for any motion, but she sits still, that absolute fae stillness that looks like she isn’t even breathing. If it wasn’t for the steady beat of her heart in his ears he would think she wasn’t.

They sat there in silence, neither willing to be the one to break first. She stares at the wall beyond him, he stares at her face.

The tension in the room is suffocating, Azriel’s shadows are the only movement, the only sound, whispering in his ears, she’s upset, help her, comfort her. He wants to scream, to tell them to mind their own business.

He knows she’s upset, he knows and there’s a part of him that wants to take her into his arms and hold her, to tell her it’s alright and that he’d help her figure it out, but there’s an even bigger part of him that wants to keep yelling, to grab her and shake her till she stops and actually listens to him. He wishes he was like Rhys, that he could go into her mind and show her what she had looked like, trapped in that spell, he wishes he could show her the terror in his heart. How could she be so gods damned stubborn that she would even think to try it again, to put herself through that again, to put him through it again. Because if she did it, he would be right there beside her, and he would burn all over again to keep her safe.

Both of them were to stubborn to break first, they sat there for nearly an hour before Azriel stood, that far away look in his eyes that meant Rhys was talking to him in his head. He didn’t say anything to Y/n, only sending her a warning look before stalking out the doors and jumping from the balcony. She was half tempted to follow, to take her talons directly into his back, to get the fight she’d been itching to have with him. Instead she sat there, staring at that same blank space on the wall, mind spiraling down and down into that dark portal that ate up the Walking Dead book.

She wishes she still had it, that she could figure out how it all went wrong. She was so sure she’d copied those marks perfectly, spelling out the name of her home meticulously. Orynth, Terrasen, she’d learned how to write out the name in the Wyrd marks as a child, she knew it like the back of her hand. It should’ve worked, the gate should’ve worked.

When it had opened, she swore she could feel home on the other side, lands of pine and snow, the smell of the kings flame blooming across the mountains. It was right there, just beyond her reach, and that was when she’d felt it, when there had been something else, something dark that took her mind and whispered those words. Which god had survived, which one now demanded her death, she wasn’t sure. Quite frankly she didn’t want to know.

Whoever it was, they were angry, angry at her mother for what she had done, for the deaths of the other gods, and for that, they would take the one thing her mother cherished beyond anything else, Y/n. They would take her, using the power in her blood to make the lock that would bring them home, squeezing every last drop of life from her till there was nothing left.

Azriel knew he was going to walk into the River house and be bombarded, the question was, who would get to him first.

“Who needs a babysitter now?”

He glares at his brother, “Shut up, Cassian.”

“No, no, I’m going to enjoy this,” Cass grins at him, “I’m surprised you actually came down here, with way you two were staring each other down I was sure there would be some rough-“

Azriel sends him a warning snarl, “Watch it.”

Cassian only grins wider, holding his hands up in mock surrender, “I’ve never seen someone get under you skin like that. I’m surprised it took this long for, how’d did she put it? For your tongue to end up down her throat.”

Azriel was seconds away from sending his fist into his brothers face when Rhys opens his office door, “I’m surprised you’re not in a bed right now.”

Cassian’s roaring laughter fills the hall way and Azriel doesn’t hold back the fist he sends straight into Cassian’s stomach. His brother breathlessly laughs, even as he doubles over. Rhys’s eyes sparkle in amusement and Azriel sends him a look that dares him to say anything else.

“Why did you call me down?”

The High Lords humor vanishes just like that, it’s enough to even sober up Cassian, “Amren found something.”

No, no, no, no, “What is it?”

“The book of breathings was very talkative, it kept telling her that the storyteller should have heeded its warnings,” Rhys sighs, leaning against the door way, “With enough snarling Amren was able to wring a solid answer out of it.”

Azriel felt like throwing up as he asked, “What did it say?”

Rhys gives him a look, one that seems pleading, “That the Wyrd brought her here for a reason, as a gift to her, and it was angry at her for not accepting it.”

Cassian sighs, “What does that mean. What gift?”

There’s a moment where Azriel thinks Rhys won’t answer. Whatever it was, Az isn’t completely sure he wants to know. Whatever that wretched book had to say, it couldn’t be good.

“Fate brought Y/n here as a gift to her,” Rhys says again, taking a deep steadying breath, “Brought her here as a gift to her and her mate.”

Everything went quiet, the air, the best of his heart, quiet. No sound, no breaths, nothing. Just that word, mate, her mate.

“Az.”

He didn’t know who said it, Rhys, Cassian, his shadows, he didn’t know, he couldn’t hear beyond the echo of the word, mate, mate, mate, mate.

“Who?” He chokes on it, drowns in it, mate, mate, mate, “Who is it?”

He could feel it, like a tendril of shadow that reaches far far above the city, to the red cliffs, to the house carved into it’s side.

Rhys gives him a pitying look, “Brother, who do you thi-“

A soft tug, on that shadow, so faint it feels like it slips between his fingers.

“Who?” He pleads, breaking beneath it, mate, mate, mate, “Please.”

He collapses beneath the weight, knees digging into the soft plush rug beneath him. His brothers don’t move, they let him get crushed beneath the word.

“The book said it was a gift,” his brother whispers, “a gift to the storyteller and the shadowsinger.”

Mate, mate, mate, mate. That tendril of shadow firmly in his grasp, and on the other side, sits a storm of ice and fire. His mate, sits on the other side, high above him in the House of Wind, mate, mate, mate, mate, mate.

She is his mate.

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#acotar #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #azriel #rowaelin daughter #rowaelin #not again #a court of thorns and roses

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty eight : a place for us

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ☆ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 8.4k

summary : the not so secret happily ever after.

warnings: language, fluff, mild angst, pregnancy, smut, din has a lot of insecurities, they're having a couple of problems but the biggest one is lack of communication, breeding kink, pregnancy sex, oral f!recieving, p in v sex, masturbation, creampie, come eating, din comes really fast but it's sweet, nongraphic childbirth, domestic bliss, ro making things up about star wars lore

a/n: this is it my loves, i truly hope that this is the ending people wanted. i'm extremely happy with it and i'm extremely emotional so im gonna go sit down lmao.

☆

You’d spent the better half of the day trying to get on top of him. 

Every time you managed to get close he’d simply set you down on the nearest surface with a kiss on the cheek and go back to doing whatever he was working on. 

You haven’t had sex. 

Not since everything happened. 

You’ve tried, a few times but it never seemed right, you always asked if you could stop, opting to just lay together instead. You were making yourself sick with worry that he was unsatisfied so you took a day off from the meetings and the royal duties to just stay in the cabin and watch him work. 

You just want to do something nice for him. 

He does everything. 

He cooks your meals, he rubs your feet, he spends his entire day working, he’s nearly tripling the cabin in size, and he does it all on one leg. 

Well, not technically on one leg, he has the prosthetic but still. He hobbles with no complaints around the house and all you do is sit all day in the castle, talking. 

So you try. All day. 

Until the two of you are getting ready for bed.  

“Come on. Seriously, I'm fine.” You put your hands on his shoulders as he got into bed beside you. 

“Stop trying to seduce me.” He kisses your temple, rolling you onto your side as he fills in the space behind you. “You don’t need to force it.” He lifts his bottom half onto the bed, carefully removing the steel leg, setting it onto the floor next to him. One of the only pieces of his Mandalorian days he chose to keep. He had all of his armor melted down, save for his helmet, some of it was forged into a new leg, but the majority was given to the foundlings. 

“I’m serious! I’m in the mood.” You aren’t and he knows it, so any efforts to roll over and face him are stopped as he wraps his arms around you, one hand resting protectively over your stomach. 

“You’re not.” 

“I’m desperate for it.” You whine loudly but he only laughs, his nose bumping against the back of your neck. 

“Go to sleep.” You can hear the grin in his voice. 

You wait a moment in the silence.

“Are you sure?” You start trying to turn again. 

“I swear to the Maker-”

“Okay! Sorry!” 

Maybe it was hormones, or maybe it was just everything that had happened. But during your first trimester no matter how hard you tried you just couldn’t seem to find the energy to be physical with him. It was as if your libido vanished entirely. You tried several times but he always just kissed your forehead and told you to relax. 

“You’ve given me everything I have ever wanted, I need nothing else from you.” He laughs against your spine as he kisses you there. 

“You’re sure?” 

“What do I have to do to prove to you that I’m fine?” 

“Let me take care of you…” You whine, trying to push back against him as he holds you in place.

“Stop worrying about me.” He continues to chuckle, hot against your skin as he kisses your cheek before pulling the quilt up over you both, it only takes a few minutes for him to start snoring behind you. 

☆

You want to completely disassemble the monarchy.

Din wants you to be as relaxed as possible during your pregnancy. 

Neither one of you has been getting what you want. Turns out being queen doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want, there are limits, limits that have you arguing with your dearly departed husband's family most days. 

You spend the better part of the next month in and out of the throne room, looking down at the table Kodo’s family set up below the throne. You argue over everything, you want to destroy everything that they stand for and obviously they don’t agree. 

So you have to compromise. 

At the end of the day it ends up being better than nothing. 

The royal family no longer has any political power over Naboo citizens, but they get to keep their titles, including your own. They’re ceremonial now. 

The royal family can no longer collect taxes from the people but they get to keep all their funds currently in the vaults. 

The people get to vote in new leaders but the royal family gets to have automatic representation on the council. 

It’s a give and take but when you finally get a chance to walk through the city with Din the people look happy and you can’t help but feel a rush of pride at the little changes. The little smiles you see every now and then, the way people stop to talk to each other, the way people look at you. 

It’s different.

It’s happier, it feels safer. 

It makes spending your first trimester with the Harand’s completely worth it. 

And it’s a good thing you came to an agreement and got everything sorted out when you did because you don’t want to get out of bed most days during your second trimester. 

You feel great, no more nausea and your energies even up. 

You’re just so kriffing horny. 

Morning, noon, and night. 

Din’s finished the added rooms in the cabin so you’re both tasked with getting everything in order in your own room and in the nursery but you don’t let him get much done. 

If you had any worries about leaving him unsatisfied those first few months they’re gone after the first week of your second trimester, you’re more than making up for it. You’re actually worried about him keeping up with you. 

Of course having a bed you love helps. It was the first thing Din made when he started working on the cabin. A bed that wasn’t too big but fit you both perfectly, and you make sure to put it to good use. 

It came on suddenly in the last week of your first trimester. 

You had woken up early one morning craving something you hadn’t wanted in quite some time. So you rolled over, tracing a finger along his bare chest until his eyes fluttered open, his breath hitching as he gave you a sleepy smile. 

“Morning.” His voice in the mornings always reminded you of how he used to sound through the modulator, low and raspy. 

“Good morning.” You whispered back, letting your hand drag down his stomach until he stopped you, kissing your forehead, you shuffled towards him, feeling his cock hardening against your hip. You furrow your brow in confusion as he starts getting up. “Is something wrong?”

“You don’t need to force it for my sake.” You know he isn’t upset, he’s never voiced concerns about your sex life but he’s convinced himself that you just don’t have a sex drive right now. When in reality you’ve woken up almost painfully needy. 

“Din-“ You start, reaching towards him. 

“Sarad.” He took your hand in his as he situated his leg. 

“Do you still want me?” You won’t be upset if he says no, after all you haven’t wanted him very much recently. 

“Always. But I’m not gonna let you pretend for my sake. Your hormones are different now, maybe after the baby is born you’ll feel a little different, if not, I’ll still be sleeping here next to you every single night. Nothing’s gonna change that.” 

“But-“

“I’m gonna take a shower.” He kissed your hand and left the room, leaving you hot between your thighs and suddenly worried that he’d never believe you were ready. 

You had brushed him off and been clearly uncomfortable often enough now that he had resigned himself to making no more attempts. 

He took a lot of showers. 

And you could pretend you didn’t hear him groaning your name through the door but it still sent a pang of guilt through you that no amount of reassurance could change. 

You hear the water turn on as you lay back in bed with a frustrated sigh. 

You have the galaxy's most devoted husband, you could tell him you never wanted to touch him again and he’d never ask why. He’d simply love you from a little further away, and you love him with all of your heart for that but in that moment you just wanted to be fucked. 

So you rolled over and stuck your hand in your nightstand drawer, searching for the cold metal of the vibrator you’d bought ages ago. When you finally found it you experimentally tested the buttons, grinning when you realized it still worked. You set up some pillows against the headboard to lean against them, bending your legs at the knee as you reach under your nightgown, finding your thighs sticky, your panties doing nothing to contain the arousal coursing through you. 

For a second you’re worried you’ve forgotten how to do it but the moment you switch on the toy it’s like riding a bike. The motions, the patterns, all of it comes rushing back and in just a few shakey breathes you're already on edge. 

You can hear him over the buzzing, you hear a few thuds, closing your eyes you imagine him on the other side of the wall. 

Without his helmet.

You haven’t been able to think about him like that since he abandoned his creed, now it’s all you can think about. 

His hand up against the tile, steadying him. The other wrapped around that pretty cock of his. You turn up the vibrator as you picture the water cascading down his skin, making his curls straighten out as he pulls back his foreskin, his pretty pink tip’s probably leaking down his shaft. 

“Din-” You whisper to yourself, focusing on the grunt you can hear faintly followed by the strained sound of your name. Your stomach tightens. His eyes are probably squeezed tightly shut, creasing in the corners as he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. “Din, please.”

“Kriff.” He hisses out loud enough for you to hear clear as day. 

You hear him stifle a moan, is he biting his own hand? You decide it’s for the best that you do that now as well, covering your mouth with your palm. You chase the tightening in your stomach, dipping the toy into the wetness pooling at your entrance and back up to your clit. You’re so focused on getting off that it barely even registers when the water turns off in the other room.

“Fuck-” You whine softly, turning it up one more setting.

You open your eyes when the door creaks open, Din stepping back into the bedroom with a towel held loosely around his waist. You squeeze your thighs together, your eyes watering as a gasp is forced out of your stomach, your body convulsing briefly. 

Maker, you’re more pent up than you thought. 

You wet your lips with your tongue as his grip on the towel tightens, his eyes go wider than you’ve ever seen them and he coughs. 

“M’gonna go make breakfast.” He manages to mumble out as the tips of his ears burn up, he gets dressed rather hastily before rushing out of the room.

When you go to the dresser to find something to wear you pick something that rides up on your stomach. You don’t really have a bump yet, Din insists that he can tell, often kissing you just above your belly button when he does but you don’t really notice a difference. 

You meander out into the kitchen, already having to yank down the front of your top. 

Maker, maybe you are showing. 

You innocently look through the conservator as he sets the table, frowning as he pouts himself a mug of caf. You’ve been wanting some for weeks but he won’t let you have so much as a sip. 

“I think I’m gonna make some cinnamon rolls tonight.” You sit down at the table as he sets a plate of buttered bread with meat and eggs. 

“That sounds lovely.” He kisses the top of your head, bringing you a glass of juice and a few vitamins before sitting beside you. “Do you need me to go into the city and get anything for you?”

“No, I think I’ve got everything I need. What are you doing today?” 

“House work. I need to fix a few things and install the heaters, it’s gonna be cold when the baby gets here.” You’re rather excited for winter, you haven’t seen snow since you left Hoth. It’s already started to chill outside. Naboo has long autumns and you aren’t due until the winter. 

“Do you need any help with that?” You ask as you take a bite of the rich dense bread, already knowing the answer. 

“No, you just relax today.”  Ever since you finished all your royal business Din hasn’t let you do any work around the house. 

“I got that package from Elaine a few days ago, I could finally unpack everything.” You nod towards the crate in the living room and he’s already shaking his head. 

“I can do that when I finish up the heat-“

“I can’t just sit around all day everyday.” You point your fork at him as he gives you an apologetic look. 

“You could if you wanted to.” He says hopefully before you flick a piece of sausage at him. He easily catches it out of the air, popping it into his mouth. 

“Oh and we should have sex tonight.” You try to say it as casually as possible but he immediately chokes on his food, coughing briefly before clearing his throat and taking a sip from his mug. 

“Mesh’la, how many times do I have to tell you not to worry about that.” 

“It’s not for your sake, it’s for mine.” You’re not even halfway done with your breakfast as he takes his last bite. Quickly standing and rushing his dishes to the sink. 

“We’ll talk about it later, I gotta get started on some stuff.” He’s walking around you carefully, avoiding your angry glare as he makes a hasty escape towards the third bedroom. 

“If you don’t listen to me I’m not letting you pick the middle name!” You yell after him but all you get in return is a muffled chuckle. 

You finish your breakfast, taking your time as you chew, feeling rather frustrated despite the orgasm you already gave yourself less than an hour ago. 

The third room is currently your makeshift laundry room, you keep anything that doesn’t have a proper place in there. Currently Din is fixing the window in there so you take it upon yourself to do a load of laundry. You empty the washer, filling it again as you turn on both machines. 

“Mind if I watch you for a bit?” You smile at him as he nods, wiping a bead of sweat from his hairline. You take the opportunity to hop up on the dryer when he turns back to his work. 

You close your eyes, letting your head roll to the side a bit as you lean forward. You smile to yourself, a wave of deja vu washes over you as you think of everytime you’ve teased him prior. You get lost in the memory of the two of you in the library, you briefly forget your goal entirely as you rock yourself back and forth, humming softly to yourself. 

Your thoughts eventually drift to how he had touched you that night and when you finally come to your senses your face is hot as your fingers grip your thighs. When you look at din he’s staring at you slack jawed.

He clears his throat, his face going red as he quickly goes back to work, finishing up quickly before getting ready to leave. 

“Help me down?” You hold your arms out to him and you swear he gulps as he steps over the laundry basket to grab you under your arms, setting you down. 

“All good?” His voice is strained as he watches you nod. 

“Perfect.” 

Except it isn’t perfect. 

The bastard remained unconvinced. 

And you remain frustrated out of your mind. 

He takes a break after installing the heating system, when he sits on the sofa, sipping a glass of water you take it upon yourself to finally go through the baby clothes Elaine sent you. The large crate is marked with a calligraphed L&E. You carefully break open the top, opening the envelope placed on top of the many fabrics. You can’t help but smile when you see who it’s addressed to. 

Princess,

Is it still princess? ‘Queen’ seems like a bit much, although you should have seen the High Magistrates' face when we told him the Mandalorian married royalty. 

He wants to visit when the little one is born but unfortunately we won’t be joining him. Elaine’s a bit sensitive to the cold but we’ll see you when it warms up. She’s terribly excited to be a godmother, even if she doesn’t show it. When Din told her the sex she started sewing immediately. Took two weeks for her to make all this, you can expect more soon. She can’t seem to help herself, our house is full of tiny socks and hats. 

The shop’s doing well. Karga alone buys enough clothes to keep us in business but things are good. I still don’t know how Elaine sews as much as she does or as well as she does but she hasn’t slowed down since we moved. 

She misses you, even if she acts all tough about it. I miss you too, we’ll visit as soon as it’s spring. 

Send pictures of the nursery when it’s finished. 

Love, Lysa 

You look down at the contents and are taken aback at the sheer amount of baby clothes you’re faced with. You grab the first thing that catches your eye, little green overalls. 

“Oh my gods.” You hold them up for him to see. Din’s gaze goes soft as he stares at the fabric. He slides off the sofa to sit on the floor beside you, taking them as you begin looking through the rest of the clothes. 

“Are you sure he’s gonna fit in these? They look small.” He holds the overalls in front of his face as you fish out a handful of striped socks. 

“That’s how big newborns are, my love. He’s gonna be small.” You unfold a large patchwork quilt, marveling at the craftsman ship as Din gives you a skeptical look. 

“These are just so… tiny.” You laugh a bit at the sudden anxiety in his voice. 

“I thought Grogu was a baby? You should know how small babies are, how old was he when you found him?”

“Fifty.” You shove his arm. 

“Funny.” You stop laughing the second you find a little gray hat with black yarn patterns. “Maker, you’re gonna die when you see this.” You flip it around in your hands, showing him the mock design of his helmet, the thin cross of his visor. 

“No kriffing way.” He takes it from you as you fight off a grin. 

☆

When you’ve finished going through everything Din packs it all back up, taking it to the nursery as you bake, simultaneously trying to think of different ways to seduce your riduur. 

You shoo him away when he tries to help, eventually he settles on sitting on the couch. Reading from where he can see you. 

You’re strongly considering just getting “stuck” in the washer and calling him to help you, you’re pretty sure you saw that in a holo at one point. 

By the time you finish baking you still have nothing, taking them out of the oven and icing them before placing one on a plate and making your way over to him. You pull yourself up into his lap, gently taking his book and setting it down beside you. 

“Mesh’la.” He says in a stern tone, his voice wavers a bit as he struggles to keep his composure. 

“I thought you like my baking?” You pout and somehow he falls for it. 

Pregnancy has made him even more infatuated with you, if that’s even possible. He’s somehow more gentle with you than ever before. 

“Of course I do.” He mumbles sweetly, leaning forward to kiss your cheek. You tear off a chunk of the pastry, something you’ve done before, and bring it to his lips.

“Open.” You say sternly and he immediately does, letting you feed him. If it’s possible for a man to be both extremely relaxed and extremely stressed out then that’s what Din currently is. 

You stay in his lap.

Feeding him until the plate is empty, he even licks your fingers clean and you’re so mesmerized by the plush softness of his mouth that you can’t help yourself.

You fall forward into him, and he flinches. 

He never flinches. 

You immediately back up, crawling off his lap as you give him a look of concern, trying to figure out if you’ve hurt him. 

“I’m- I’m sorry.” He swallows, avoiding eye contact. 

“Don’t be sorry.” You whisper it, leaning forward, resting your head on his shoulder, he takes your hand in yours. 

“I just- I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this for me.” 

“Why are you so insistent that I don’t want you?” You finally just tear the band aid off. 

Silence.

Briefly, you know he’s deciding if he should say it or not. 

“You stopped wanting to have sex when I took the helmet off.” He blurts out and you nearly fall off the couch at the absurdity of his reasoning. 

“Din that has noth-“

“And it’s fine. There’s no reason for you to pretend to be attracted to me just for the sake of my ego. You can love me without loving,” He gestures at himself. “this.”

It makes you want to cry. 

To think that he thought you were withholding your affections because you didn’t like how he looked. It makes you even more upset to know that he was okay with that, he was willing to live a life believing that to be true and simply never touch you like that again. 

“Look, I still have the helmet, we’re going to make this work.” He whispers. His leg bounces up and down until he suddenly stands. “Give me a minute?” He’s already headed for the door. You sit there, a little stunned.

You decide to give him space, you can talk when he comes to bed. You dress in a thin brown camisole and green panties, you try to make yourself look nice, hoping maybe he’ll relax at the sight of it but based on the look he gives you when he comes into the bedroom you’re a little worried it’s having the opposite effect. 

“I love you and-” You start but he just collapses into bed next to you.

“Please- mesh’la I can’t, this torment is unbearable.” His hands clutch the fabric of your clothes, his fingers trembling. “You’re making this extremely difficult for me.” He’s downright flushed as he pleads with you. 

“I won’t stop until you believe me.” You insist further as he sinks his eyes into you, his pupils swollen and frantically searching your face as he swallows loudly. “You couldn’t be more beautiful to me. It had nothing to do with you, I just- I needed a little time after everything.” You whisper sharply, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time. “I’ve been waiting to wake up. I keep thinking you’re gonna disappear and I’m going to lose you all over again and none of that is your fault.” The room is quiet aside from your combined breathing. 

“Are you sure? Really sure?” He’s speaking so quietly you barely hear him as his fingertips ghost the exposed skin under the bunched up fabric of your top. 

“Look, I’m not going to force you to touch me, but I don’t know how else to get my point across and if you really want me to stop all of this then I will-“

“Don’t stop.” He whispers, barely audibly as his hands hold your face, lips pressed to yours. Your head falls back into the pillows as his mouth immediately makes a beeline south, kissing your sternum, you tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him back up. “Please- I wanna taste-” He downright whines as you pull his bottom lip between your teeth.

“After.” You pant into his mouth. “I can’t wait, I need you.” 

You do, terribly. 

You guide his hand between your legs and his fingers push your panties to the side in an instant, his mouth falls open in a silent moan as he feels the wetness there. He eases a finger into you as you whine impatiently. “I don’t wanna wait-” You reach down to grab at his wrist but he just kisses you again to silence you.

“I don’t wanna hurt you.” He mumbles, he listens to an extent, pushing in a second finger. The stretch is delicious. You feel like your skin is on fire as you try to push yourself further onto his hand. 

“I don’t care, please Din I need you so bad. I need your cock.” Your brain is foggy, you're so turned on right now, you’d do anything to feel him inside you. 

He nods, shoving his trousers down and pulling his shirt up over his head as you squirm out of your own clothing. Almost immediately he looks overwhelmed, his eyes don’t know where to settle as they make their way down your body. Finally he swallows, taking his cock in hand, tip pink and pretty as he strokes himself so you can see how he’s already leaking, just for you. 

He eases himself into you, slow and steady as you try to stay still. It’s all too much, his thick length pressing deeper and deeper into you until you’re both gasping, forehead to forehead with him fully seated within your heat. 

“Okay?” He manages to spit the words out despite the way his chest heaves as you nod. 

“Din fuck me please I can take it.” You plead with him, he looks skeptical so you rock your own hips, it isn’t much but it’s enough to make your eyes roll back as you nudge him deeper. 

“Look at me.” He whispers as you blink, trying to focus on the warmth in his eyes as he searches your expression for pain. 

“You’re so pretty.” You mumble out. He looks a little surprised by the sentiment, his tongue poking out between his lips as he looks at you. 

Has anyone ever told him that? 

“Thank you.” Is the last thing he says before slamming his hips forwards, the head of his cock bumping against your cervix. His thrusts are erratic and needy as he watches your face intently. He’s so worked up and it’s been so long and the combination of it all has him practically whimpering against you within minutes.

“I can’t- I- It-” He begins to stammer, his lips are wet and swollen, his eyes fight to stay open, pupils darting everywhere like he’s trying to take in as much as he possibly can as his cock pulses inside you. 

You want him to come. You want to watch him, watch his face, as he finishes. You want to see him hot and desperate just for you, you want to know that you made him feel this good after just a few minutes. 

“I wanna see, please, please Din.” You lay back, gasping with every stutter of his hips, taking in the sight as he squeezes his eyes shut. 

“I- I- kriff, love you so much.” He hisses out as his hands fist the sheets. The veins in his neck stick out as his mouth falls open, an obscene moan is ripped from him as he rocks his hips forward one last time, you can see where the two of you are connected. His cum spilling out around his length, forced out by the sheer girth of him. His breathing is staggered as he slumps forward, kissing you with a fire that you didn’t realize you missed so much.

He doesn’t kiss you nearly as much as you want before his mouth is already moving down your body, any complaints you have never make it past your lips. It feels too good when he touches you like this.

He squishes the bridge of his nose into your stomach, just below your belly button as he kisses the soft skin there. His mouth hasn’t even made its way between your legs yet and he’s moaning into your flesh, his fingers kneading the meat of your hips. 

He pushes your thighs wider apart and you swear you see him drool at the view he’s presented with. 

He looks up at you, his eyes wide and needy, waiting for permission. You nod a little too quickly and he dives into you. His tongue immediately works its way into your still dripping hole, he’s everywhere, precise and deliberate as he pushes his own seed back into you. 

“So- fucking- good-” He mumbles to himself as if you aren’t even there before flattening his tongue against your clit, it’s enough to have your thighs closing around his head, the cool metal of his hearing aids stings your flesh as you come undone. Your vision goes white as you whine, high pitched and breathy. 

He doesn’t stop for a second, eating like you’re a goddamn buffet. When you catch a glimpse of his face his jaw is slick with a combination of the two of you. His eyes are dark as your head falls back, you want so desperately to watch but it’s too much, all you can do is whimper and grip his hair. 

He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bundle of nerves until you’re coming all over again. You collapse back into the pillows, already exhausted but smiling so hard your face hurts. He sits back on his ankles, lifting your legs as he kisses your calves. 

He’s perfect like this. 

Tan, scarred body on display to you in the warm lamp light. Skin covered in a thin layer of sweat that makes his hair curl and stick to his forehead. His eyes are dark as his tongue pokes out, swiping across his lips to taste the remnants of you, his cock stands proud against his stomach, already hard and aching for you once more. 

“Don’t relax just yet, I’m not done with you.” He mumbles into your tender flesh, hands grabbing your ankles as he yanks you forward, slotting himself between your legs again. 

It’s a good thing because you certainly aren’t done with him, you can’t get enough of him for the next six months. 

Further into your second trimester nothing’s changed. If anything you’re even more insatiable. If it was possible to get pregnant twice you’d have done it by now. 

You also make a point to kiss his face as much as humanly possible, you can’t help but wonder if anyone else ever has.

He likes it in a way you aren’t yet familiar with, he leans into your lips at every opportunity, eager to feel your mouth against the apples of his cheeks, the sensitive skin of his eyelids, the sharp angle of his nose, and the prickles of the stubble on his chin. 

And you are more than happy to indulge him. 

☆

The third trimester wasn’t much better but you managed to better manage your time. You went on walks, even if they were short, you’d insist on walking around the gardens or the markets whenever you could. 

You didn’t think it was possible but somehow Din’s become even more protective. If he had things his way you’d sit in the cabin all day while he stared at you from a few inches to your left. 

With that sharp protectiveness has come a silence, it takes a few days for you to notice but you realize just how quiet he’s been. It’s subtle but you know something's off. Word’s become soft arm touches, he holds you a little tighter at night and he never asks if you need help anymore, he just does everything before you can even get to it. 

It’s seemingly a couple of things. 

You know something is bothering him but he’s become sort of shy. 

When you walk the markets he’s still viewed as a member of your staff but you don’t hide things anymore. You’ll feed him by hand if you buy a snack cake, you’ll hold his arm as you walk. He’ll even kiss your forehead if the opportunity arises.   

But he’s timid. 

And it isn’t until you’re visiting Vivian that you realize what it is. You had been telling her about how hard it’s been for you to decide on a shade of green for the nursery when he had hidden his face in your hair. You had entangled your fingers in his and thought of it as nothing more than an act of affection from him but it started happening more often. 

And then it clicked.

He only ever did it after being directly addressed, when people were looking at him. You finally brought it up one night when you’d been trying to get comfortable on the couch, your protruding stomach making it exceedingly difficult. 

You’ve got two talking points to cover, the sudden shyness, and getting to the bottom of his silence, although you’ve got a sneaking suspicion as to what it’s about. 

You eventually settled with your head in his lap and your feet up on the arm rest, smiling up at him as he played with your hair. 

“You know you can wear the helmet when we go out if you want.” You finally blurt out as he gives you a confused look. 

“Why would I do that?” 

“Well I know that you still have it and you just seem a little… uncomfortable sometimes without it.”

“I thought you liked my face?” He says it with a teasing tone but it has you sitting up out of the position you struggled to find for so long.

“I love your face. But I also want you to be comfortable.” You press a long kiss into the coarse facial hair of his jaw, he’s been so busy with house work and you it’s gotten longer than you’ve ever seen or felt it. 

“I’m comfortable with you.” He turns his face, nudging his nose against your lips until you kiss him there as well. 

“I just noticed that you’ve been a little tense, especially during outings.” You tilt your head, giving him a lopsided smile as he stands, leaning down to cradle your face in his hands. 

“I’m just not used to it, cyare.” He stands, examining the space in the room. “I want to put a fireplace in before the baby comes.” He mumbles as he moves the loveseat, making space against the wall.

You seize the opportunity, might as well kill two birds with one stone. 

“Speaking of when the baby comes, I thought we were going to visit your little one at some point?” 

His shoulders stiffen up for just a moment before he shrugs.

“I guess I’ve just had other things on my mind, nerves about the baby.” He doesn’t look at you, instead he measures the space on the wall with his hands. 

“I thought you were excited to be a dad?”

“I am a dad, and I am excited.” He’s mumbling, he hasn’t talked about Grogu in ages and it’s making you worry. 

“You’ve been quiet.”

“I’m always quiet.”

“Not with me.” 

He turns and stares at you for a moment before clearing his throat. 

“I’m scared.” He sits back down beside you and you wrap your arms around him as best you can with your bump in the way.

“Of what?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I’m scared that the baby won’t like me, or that I’ll mess them up, or something like that.” It is so much easier to tell when he’s lying, now that you can see his face. You never would have thought his cheeks would get so rosy. 

He’s a natural with kids and he’s been more excited than you are for the baby, he even spends all his free time embroidering the baby’s name into their clothes. 

“Din.” You say sternly, pulling back to look at him.

He chews the inside of his cheek a bit. 

He whispers something but he’s so quiet you can’t hear him.

“Din, please.” You take his head in your hands and force him to look at you. 

“I’m scared that if we go to get Grogu he won’t want to come home with us.”

A pang of sorrow hits your heart. 

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Maybe he’s happy there, maybe he’s forgotten all about me.” He looks hurt in a way you’ve never seen him before, if you weren’t days away from your due date you’d get on a ship and take him to his boy right now. 

“He hasn’t forgotten about you.” You take his hand. 

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you. And I know that I’d never forget you.” He still looks unsure as you stare into those sad eyes of his. “We have to at least try, it would be better to know. This baby already loves you, that’s enough of an indicator to me that Grogu feels the same.”

“You have no proof that this baby already loves me.” He finally cracks a smile at what you’re implying.

“Come here.” You lay your head back down in his lap, making a second desperate attempt to get comfortable. You grab his hand, lifting the fabric of your top until your stomach is exposed, placing his large palm over the swell of your belly. “Talk to him.” 

“What am I supposed to say?” He’s looking at you like you’re insane but you just shrug.

“You talk to him all the time.”

“Yeah but you never put me on the spot like this.” With his freehand he rubs the back of his neck. 

“Just do it.” He takes a deep breath, his thumb rubbing small circles into your skin. 

“Hello ik’aad.” He says softly, looking up at you for approval as you nod. “I’m excited to meet you soon, little one.” You watch as the taut skin moves ever so slightly, a little kick against Din’s fingers. His eyes go wide as he sits there a little stunned, you put your hand over his. 

“He does this most of the time when you talk to him. He likes your voice.”

“What else should I tell him about?”

“Anything.” 

He smiles at you, the corners of his eyes crinkle before he smiles at your bump.

“We painted your crib today, we decided to leave the walls alone but we wanted something to be green.” He carries on excitedly as you continue to feel the little flutters within you. “And- and someday you’re going to share a room with your brother.” You smile as your little one reacts to his fathers voice, you sit up, facing him.

“No more worrying. And if you’re going to worry then I want you to tell me.” You kiss as much of his face as you can. “Okay? Do this for me, please?”

“Okay.” He nods as you give him one last kiss on the lips. 

You move to sit between his legs like you used to in the nook, you find yourself a book as he puts his hands back on your bump while you read. 

He spends the rest of the night talking to your stomach. 

☆

Arin Kuiil Djarin (Harand) was born with a full head of hair. Dark, messy curls that you could make out even through your tears when he came into this world. 

The future monarch. (A ceremonial position.) 

A screaming ball of tears in your arms, crowned king from birth. A boy everyone knew as the only son of the recently departed Kodo Harand. 

Your “royal advisor and personal guard” was beside you the entire time. Holding your hand and kissing your sweat slicked forehead as he whispered to you, telling you just how strong you were. It was one hell of a night but when the morning came suddenly you were parents to a strong, loud little boy.

Din held him first, after he cut the umbilical cord the doctor handed him to him. You watched as he cradled the tiny crying baby in his arms, shushing him softly as he rocked him. It took only a few whispers from his father before Arin calmed down, gasping faintly as Din slid into the bed next to you. You laid your head against his arm, unable to tear your eyes off of the tiny miracle.  

“Do you wanna hold him?” Din’s voice cracks as he continues to stare at him. 

You nod, a little scared about how small he is but you hold your hands out regardless as he carefully transfers him into the crook of your arm. You’re holding your breath as you look down at him. 

When he’s safe in your arms he finally opens his eyes. 

He is just a little copy of your riduur. 

Dark curious eyes scanning your face as you burst into another wave of tears.

“He’s perfect.” 

“He’s perfect.”

You both whisper at the same time, laughing softly. You hold him tightly, Din’s arms wrapped protectively around both of you. 

Your entire universe in one little medcenter bed.

☆

You go on a lot of walks.

It helps you get out of the house and people love to see Arin. Din wears a baby carrier Elaine made with the little one strapped to his chest while you hold his hand. Everyone loves to see the little king, telling you that he’s such a good baby.

People often say he looks just like his father, you always laugh and smile at your brown haired boy.

He really does.  

He acts just like his father too. Even as a baby you can see his personality shining through. He likes to fight you on a lot of things, mostly vegetables and wearing his socks, but he loves you endlessly, your little mama’s boy. You never thought you’d see the adoration from Din’s eyes in someone else's but here he is, smiling up at you like you’re the sun, just like Din.

Your son was one year old when you met your second son. (Technically your eldest.)

You had urged Din to go to him sooner but he always found excuses, finally he told you he wanted to wait until Arin was a little older. On his first birthday you finally convinced him, and your family took a trip to a planet called Ossus. 

And you met a little boy who you loved as a son from the moment you met him. 

He certainly wasn’t what you were expecting but the moment he saw Din you recognized the look in his eyes as the same look Arin gives him first thing in the morning. And from that moment on you knew he was yours. 

You couldn’t ask for sweeter boys in your life. 

You finally found your peace.

Your freedom. 

Things are a little different now but you never find a reason to be upset about it. You just learn to live with it. 

Sometimes Din has to cut up any fruits or vegetables you’re preparing for dinner because the wet slicing sound makes your heart race. 

You sleep with a lamp on because Din trembles when a room goes completely dark, when he asks why you don’t turn it off you tell him you just like having it on because you know he’ll never tell you just how afraid he was when he was trapped beneath the stone and earth. 

You wrap him in blankets when winter comes and cradle his head against your chest, desperate to keep him warm. You see the vacant look in his eyes when a chill settles in his bones. The moment you see him shiver you bundle him up and drag him to bed, warming him with gentle and precise kisses until his eyes soften up again. 

Din always wakes you up if he’s leaving the room after you’ve fallen asleep. It doesn’t matter if he’s going to the fresher or if he’s going to grab the baby and come right back. Because he knows that if he isn’t there when you wake up, you will freeze up in terror and cry softly to yourself until he returns. 

On stormy nights, when the wind blows a certain way that resembles a low wailing, Din will always find an excuse to send Lysa a transmission, asking how Elaine is doing. 

You learn to live with the little thing’s because sometimes you can’t heal completely, but you live regardless. You have reasons to endure. 

You endure for Din. 

You endure for Grogu. 

And you endure for Arin. 

Din always says he was born to love you.

You agree but that wasn’t all he was born for, he was born to be a father. 

Arin and Grogu taught you to be a mother, but Din was made for fatherhood. 

That’s what you think about, as you sit in the loveseat by the fire, book in hand. You aren’t actually reading it, you’re too busy watching the scene on the floor in front of you. Your sons peek out of the pillow fort they’ve built against the sofa, Arin covering his mouth as he holds in a giggle, staring at you with his wide brown eyes. You give him a small wave, watching as he darts back inside. 

“Are you staring at your mother, young man? Staring is very rude.” You hear Din’s voice from inside the fort, a large bump in the blanket roof where he sits. More giggles follow as he crawls back to the small entryway, you watch as he shrieks when Din drags him back into the fort, taking his place and mimicking the little boy as he stares at you.

He looks at you with a devotion that never wavers. 

“You’re my creed. Everything I have, everything I am, it’s all for you. For both of you.” 

He still tells you that often. Except now he says for all of you. 

He crawls out of the fort, his face red from exertion as he makes his way over to your chair, like he’s under some sort of spell that pulls him towards you.

“How are my girls, buir sarad?” Din’s out of breath as he grabs the armrests of the chair, caging you in as he kisses you. 

“Tired.” You grin at him as he kneels down in front of you, resting his forehead on the bump you’re cradling with your freehand. You set your book down on the end table next to you, content to watch as he knocks his nose against the strained fabric of your dress. 

“Sarad’ika.” He smiles, kissing the top of your stomach, you don’t mind losing your nickname to someone it suits more. “Let me put them to bed, I’ll be right back.” His lips turn up as he stands, looking down at the two boys with drooping eyes and mouths open in yawns.

“Go with your buir now my loves, I’ll come tuck you in in a minute.” You groan as you stand, Din scooping up both babies with ease. 

“Haav ca’nara.” Bed time. He whispers, carrying them towards the fresher, you hear the water run as he washes their little faces and brushes their teeth. 

You tidy up, folding blankets and rearranging pillows as you hear water splashing from the other room followed by a loud sigh. You stifle a laugh as you watch your boys running from the fresher down the hall towards their room, a soaking wet Din soon follows. You continue to clean, waiting until it gets quiet before making your way out of the room. You walk past the nursery, empty and waiting for its next occupant, towards the door with the faint glow of a night light. Peering in from the doorway you see all your boys in one room. 

Grogu and Arin lay in their respective beds, each is far too big for the small boys but they’ll grow into them. Grogu’s already asleep as Din kneels beside Arin’s bed, brushing a curl out of the little one's eyes. 

“Goodnight, ik’aad.” He leans down, kissing his son's face, earning a sleepy smile from the boy. 

“Night, buir.” He mumbles out, he doesn’t speak often, quiet like his father, but when he does it’s always clear. 

Din smiles, standing, kissing your cheek as he passes you, going out into the main room to lock up as you make your way to Grogu’s bedside, watching his eyes flutter as you press a kiss into his wrinkly green forehead. 

“Goodnight, my love.” You mumble before turning to Arin’s bed, sitting beside him as you watch him fight sleep, trying to keep his eyes open. “Sleep now my little love.” You murmur to him, kissing your fingertips before bringing them to his forehead. 

“Goodnight mama.” He yawns out as you watch him finally succumb to sleep. 

You leave the door open a crack, letting out another groan as you rub your stomach, Din waits for you in the dimly lit hall, holding out a hand which you happily take, letting him pull you into an embrace. 

“No more babies after this one, my back is killing me.” You give him a stern look as he brings both hands to your bump. 

“You have given me everything, I wouldn’t possibly ask for more.” He whispers. “Although I do think we could handle one more.” He raises his eyebrows at you and you can’t help but laugh.

“Fine, you carry the next one then.” You reach behind him, pushing open the door as you grab the collar of his tunic, pulling him into a kiss while you laugh against each other. 

“I love you.” He mumbles. 

“I love you too.” There is no hesitation. There hasn’t been for a long time. 

And you go to bed. 

In your perfectly sized bedroom. 

On your perfectly sized mattress. 

With your Din. 

☆

a/n : this is technically the last chapter of bks <3 :,) epilouge in one week. q&a tomorrow so send your asks with questions. all my love to everyone whos read this far.

i no longer have a tag list !! follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates !!

#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #pedro pascal #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you

[andvys]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 15

Warnings: slight angst, mostly fluff though. Steve is not really in this chapter, don't be mad, please. He will be back in the next chapter.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader, Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler, Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: You need reassurance after the horrible date with Ray, and your best friend is there to give it to you.

Word count: 4k+

A/N: The amazing flashback scene of Eddie and Steve was written by @hellfire--cult when we were going over ideas together, so credit goes out to her, also thank you for listening to my rambles and for sharing your ideas with me 💕 ps: if you haven't read any of her stories, go do it right now, do I wanna know? had me in a chokehold

series masterlist

-

The bruises on Eddie’s knuckles don’t surprise you, it was to be expected after seeing Ray’s face but it still makes you freeze a little. All night, he has been hiding them from you, doing everything to keep you from seeing them but now you do, you see them clearly, the cuts and the bruised knuckles, you wonder if he has any others that may be hidden under his clothes. 

With your elbows leaned against the counter and your face propped up by your hands, you stare at him as you watch him make the grilled cheese sandwiches. You aren’t hungry but Eddie always insists on making you something to eat when you come over. 

Eddie can feel your eyes on him, he knows that you know. Yet, neither of you speak up about it. You act like nothing's wrong and so does he, but he knows that a conversation about what happened is bound to happen tonight.

“I don’t feel like going back to school,” you groan. 

A smile tugs at his lips, he glances up at you after he flips the sandwich over in the pan. 

“The good A student doesn’t feel like going back to school?” He chuckles. 

“Shut up,” you snort, “just because I have good grades, doesn’t mean that I like going to school. Besides, you are the nerd out of the two of us, dungeon master.”

His eyes widen and he places a hand on his chest, dramatically. You try not to stare at his knuckles again. 

“Me? A nerd?”

“Yeah, you’ve been studying way more than me!”

“I’m studying with you, sweetheart. You basically force me into doing it–”

“Because I want you to graduate, dumbass,” you exclaim, reaching for the bowl of grapes, you pick out one and throw it at him, giggling when it hits him on the forehead. 

“Ouch! We don’t throw food around, young lady!” He says with a stern voice, pointing at you with the spatula. 

You giggle, “I’m sorry, sir.”

Shaking his head, he huffs with a smile on his face. 

“Are you ready for your gourmet dinner, queen?” He jokes as he takes the sandwich out of the pan and puts it on the plate. 

“I’m always ready for Chef Munson’s amazing grilled cheese sandwich,” you grin, taking the plate from his hands, “it’s better than any other sandwich.”

He snorts at the nickname, smirking at you as he puts his sandwich on his plate as well. 

“One of these days, I’m gonna bake you a cake.”

You raise your brows, taking your plate as you follow him to the small table. 

“A cake? What kind of cake, Eddie?” You ask, sitting down on the chair. 

“Whatever cake you want,” he chuckles, taking a bite out of his sandwich. 

“I think we should make one together, that way nothing goes wrong.” 

He frowns, mouth twisting and looking at you, offended.

“Eat your sandwich, you must be hangry.”

Eddie’s eyes flash with amusement when you giggle at his words, taking your sandwich, you look at him as you bite into it. He watches the way you chew it with a smile on your face, nodding at him.

“Good?” 

“Hmm.” 

He chuckles when you hold your hand in front of your mouth, “very good.”

He pats himself on the shoulder, jokingly. 

After you both finish eating, you retreat back to his room with the candy you brought him from the store. Eddie gets comfortable on the bed, opening the bag of m&m’s and reaching for the remote to turn on the TV that he got from his old neighbor after helping him change the tires on his Chevy truck. 

Eddie glances at you, watching the way you take a seat on his chair instead of the bed, next to him. You have been distant all day, you didn’t even hug him when you said ‘hello’, the way you usually do. He knows that you might not feel comfortable with physical touch yet but you hugged him yesterday morning and you let him kiss your hands, you didn’t seem to mind that. 

He flips through the channels but he keeps watching you, watching the way your brows furrow. You look like you want to say something but something keeps you from doing so, so he gives you more time, waits for you to be the one to speak up, the way he always does.

He adjusts his pillows and leans back, offering you some of the candy, he holds out the bag to you. 

You shake your head, giving him a small smile. 

“Why are you so far away?” He asks as he puts the candy on the nightstand, “you can’t see the TV from there.”

He sees the way you hesitate when he pats the spot next to him, the way you seem to think of something that makes your eyes flash with sadness, the way your eyes then soften when they meet his. You push yourself up from the chair, you tug at your black sweatshirt as you walk towards the bed and finally sit down next to him. You lean back and pull your knees up to your chest. 

“Are you cold?” He asks, eyeing you slowly. 

You shake your head, murmuring a small ‘no’. 

He still reaches for the blanket that he bought a few months back. You get cold easily. 

He places the maroon colored blanket over your knees, giving you a sweet smile when you lay your head on your knees as you look at him with soft eyes. 

“What?” He whispers, chuckling. 

“Nothing,” you say with a smile that fades a little when you take a look at his knuckles. Eddie is surprised that you haven’t confronted him about them yet, how you haven’t asked or said anything. He wonders if you are mad or disappointed in him, or even scared – to think that you could be scared of him, makes him feel so horrible. He never wants you to be scared of him. 

He sees the way your eyes lose focus, you get lost in your thoughts, he can see it on your face, the way it loses the smile completely. He tries not to stare, but he can’t take his eyes off of you, he too gets lost in his thoughts when he thinks of the previous night. 

Neither of you pay attention to the sitcom playing on the TV, neither of you listen to the voices or the laughter, you are both too deep in your thoughts. Eddie clenches his bruised fist, trying not to wince at the ache in his side. 

You stare at him and when your eyes meet again, you finally open your mouth to ask the question that has been lingering on your mind for the past two days. 

“Do you want to have sex with me?” 

Eddie freezes. His eyes widen and flash with confusion.

That isn’t your question. 

You regret it, instantly. Yet, you repeat it, phrasing it differently this time. 

“L-Like, do you expect me to have sex with you?” You ask nervously and with a guilty feeling in your stomach.

You never thought that that is what Eddie wanted or wants from you, you always thought that he was just your friend, the friend who loves you unconditionally and platonically. You never once thought that his touches meant that he wanted more and you still don’t believe that but Ray’s words have pushed you into a bad mindset, again. He made you feel insecure and so horrible about yourself. 

You aren’t interesting, he said. You are nothing but a good fuck, that is what he said.

“W-What?” 

You don’t look at him any longer, your eyes are filled with tears and you are looking down, unable to face him and it worries Eddie. 

“Of course not, sweetheart,” he says softly, wanting to reach out to touch your hand but he decides against it, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable, “why would I expect that from you?”

You shrug, sniffling quietly. 

“I-It’s just Ray, he said some really nasty things to me.”

Eddie tries to stay calm, he tries to keep his anger at bay, not wanting to scare you.

“What did he say?”

You lick your lips as you try to blink away the tears that you don’t want to fall, you glance up at him again, you look into his chocolate eyes, feeling a sense of comfort in your chest when you stare at them. 

“He just, he was nice all night, we went to the movies and then we got some drinks and I-I thought that he really just wanted to hang out, to get to know me and just leave it at that, you know?” You say, finally telling him about the night. 

He nods.

“But then, he took me to Lovers Lake and then he kissed me, a-and then he tried to do more and I didn’t–” you pause, taking a deep breath when you feel the disgust and the anger and the fear rushing through again, “I didn’t want it, I pushed him away but he was so persistent a-and I was so scared, Eddie.” 

He stares at you, helplessly and angry at the man who did this to you. He has already done what he wanted to do, but he wants to do it again. He wants to hurt him, over and over again. 

He can’t stand the thought of you being so scared, of you feeling so helpless and afraid and small. 

“I slapped him and I tried to run but then he came after me, and then he said all these things to me. He told me that he never wanted to get to know me, t-that he just wanted to fuck me,” you say in disgust.

You clench your fists, not noticing how deep your nails dig into your palms, “cause apparently that’s all I’m good for, I’m a good fuck. I’m boring and not interesting enough to keep around, that’s why Steve dumped me. I am nothing but a good fuck, that’s all I am to others.” 

Eddie stares at you in shock. 

His soul is filled with anger and he wants nothing more than to go after him, again and again. 

He takes no offense to your question, he knows the state you were in after Steve left you, the insecurities and the thoughts you were dealing with. 

“It made me feel so, so worthless.”

Eddie’s heart aches at your words. 

You sit there, making yourself as small as possible, you wrap your arms tighter around your legs as you pull them closer to your chest, you wipe away the tears of anger and hurt and you look down with a trembling lip.

“Sweetheart, I hope you know that he was full of shit.” 

You hear the shakiness in his voice, you see the anger in his features when you look up at him, the mention of Ray is enough to fill Eddie with rage, you wonder what he looked and felt like when Ray was right in front of him. 

“Guys like him are used to things going their way, when they don’t, they get angry and frustrated, you bruise their ego, they’ll bruise you back in some way,” he mumbles the last part as he thinks of the bruises he had left on you, “and this guy, he’s a fucking psychopath, I can tell you that much.”

He won’t tell you everything, he won’t tell you what Ray said to him, you know he won’t. 

“Somehow, he knows how to fucking get to you,” he says, pausing to take a deep breath.

What does he mean by that?

“I-I mean, he knew how to get to you, he said things to you that he knew would hurt – but, it’s all bullshit, y/n, it’s all fucking bullshit. You are not boring in any way, shit, you’re the coolest person I know! You’ve always been the coolest person, sweetheart – even when you were still just listening to The Smiths and rewatching the same two movies every Friday, you were still the coolest fucking person on this planet!”

Your eyes widen, a smile tugs at your lips at his little outburst. 

“The whole planet?” You ask, giggling. 

“Yeah,” he smiles when he hears your giggle, “the whole planet, sweetheart.”

“There’s so many amazing girls you haven’t met yet though,” you point out, tilting your head. 

“There’s no one more amazing than you.” 

You smile but you don’t believe his words. 

Eddie eyes your whole face as his crosses with confusion, sadness and disbelief. 

You easily believed the words Ray said about you, but you struggle to believe his words. He thought you were doing better, he hoped so. 

“I shouldn’t have just gone after him, I should’ve gone after Harrington’s hair as well.”

To hear him admit that he went after Ray doesn’t shock you, you knew it from the moment you saw Ray at the hospital.

You shake your head with a chuckle. 

“I’m serious,” he says, nudging your knee with his hand, “he was an asshole to you. He didn’t deserve you.”

“Eddie,” you whisper. 

“It’s the truth, y/n. Steve never deserved you, he treated you like shit, he made you feel like shit.” 

Eddie knew it from the start, from the moment you first talked, from the moment you first spent time together, he could see the pain in your eyes, the insecurities that you have felt just because of him. Steve had the best thing he could get; your love. But he threw it all away, he never gave you what you deserved, he never treated you like he should have, he never loved you like you should have been loved. He gave it all to her, all the kindness, all the gentleness, all the trust and the love, she got it all without having to fight for it, without having to ask for it, he just gave it to her, he gave her the things that you deserved. 

Eddie would never admit it, but to see Steve treat his new girlfriend like the queen of the world, always made him so incredibly angry, that’s how he should have treated you when you were still with him but instead, he treated you like garbage, he betrayed you, he lied to you, he hurt you over and over again, he put other girls before you, he gave you nothing but pain and still, you stayed with him but he tossed you aside so easily and replaced you with another girl. 

“You believed Ray’s words, right?” 

You blink, looking down at your hands as you slowly nod. 

“Because of Steve,” he mumbles quietly, “he made you feel that way first, right?” 

Your heart drops a little, tears well up in your eyes again. 

Steve made you feel like you were never good enough, like you weren’t interesting enough, like you weren’t the right girl to be a girlfriend, like you didn’t deserve to be treated like a girl someone loves, like you were nothing more than a side piece because that is how he treated you most of the time. 

That is why his words had gotten to you. That is why you got drunk and high at a place you shouldn’t be at. 

“Yeah,” you whisper, sadly. 

Eddie looks at you with sad eyes. 

He doesn’t hate Steve, not anymore. He can tell that he changed, he knows that he regrets his actions and the way he treated you but he can’t help but feel anger towards him at this moment. 

You keep looking down, trying to hide the sadness on your face and tears in your eyes. Eddie reaches his hands out to you, slowly. He cups your cheeks and tilts your head up,  eyeing the look on your face as he wills himself to speak. 

“Listen to me, sweetheart. If I were him, I would’ve held onto you, I would’ve taken you on all the dates, I would’ve dropped all my shitty friends, I would’ve kicked Billy’s ass a long time ago, I would’ve never looked at any other girl if you were by my side, I would’ve treated you like the queen that you are,” he says, tapping your nose to make you smile and it works, it always does. 

Your eyes soften and you melt into his touch, smiling sadly at his words. 

You wish he would’ve done all of these things but, he never did. 

“I would have never let a bad thought get into this pretty head,” he says, tapping your forehead softly.

“And I certainly would have never let you go, ever.” 

Your brows knit, your eyes are glossy, again. You look into his soft brown eyes and you see nothing but the truth, he isn’t just saying that to make you feel better, to take away your pain. He is honest, he always is. 

Eddie watches you, he watches the way your eyes skip over his whole face, the way they flash with sadness and with fear as you think about his words and then you say something that shocks him, a little. 

“Please don’t.” 

His brows rise up, surprise crosses his features. 

“Please don’t ever let me go,” you whisper, your lip trembling when you reach your hand out to grab his wrist, “please don’t leave me.”

The smile falls from his face, his eyes widen with sadness. This time, he doesn’t hesitate to pull you into his arms, he hugs you tightly, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“I would never leave you, sweetheart. You will always have me.”

“Promise?” You ask shakily, just as you asked him once. 

You need him to stay. You can’t lose him, not after you had lost Steve already. 

“I promise,” he whispers, squeezing your sides as you hug him back tighter. 

You close your eyes and lay your chin on his shoulder as you melt into his embrace. He radiates warmth and comfort, safety and something you can’t understand yet. Eddie smells like cigarettes but you don’t mind, the smell of his cologne and his body wash covers up the smell of smoke. 

Eddie runs his fingers through your hair, finally holding you the way he has been craving to ever since that night. 

“I’ll marry you one day.”  

“What?” You ask, giggling. 

“I said; I’ll marry you one day,” he chuckles, not pulling away from the hug just yet. 

“Is that a proposal?” You joke, unable to fight the smile off of your face.

“Mhmm.”

“Where’s the ring?”

“I’ll give you one of mine.”

“I want the one with the black stone.”

“You got it, angel.”

You giggle again and he smiles at that. 

When you pull away and he sees that the tears are long gone, and a smile is playing on your lips, he pinches your cheek gently. 

“There’s the smile I wanted to see,” he grins. 

Your hair falls in front of your face when you look down at his hands. There are cuts and bruises on his knuckles, you are scared to touch them but you take one of his hands in yours and you softly touch the bruises with your fingers. 

You don’t need to talk about it, it’s enough to look at each other to understand it all. 

He watches you, again and he wonders what you are thinking. 

He clears his throat about to speak up but you beat him to it. 

“You know, I like your idea,” you say as you look at him through your lashes. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” he starts, already smiling at you, “we should get married when we’re both 30 and still single.”

You laugh, “that sounds like a plan.”

“A good plan?” 

“The best. But, you don’t plan on spending your twenties without me, do you?” 

He scoffs, “never, what would I do without my best friend?”

Your heart skips a beat and for the first time after the horrible days you have had, you feel the happiness rushing back. You feel comforted and safe, you know that as long as you have him, your best friend, nothing bad will happen to you. The look in his eyes, the bruises on his knuckles are the evidence that he will do everything to keep you safe. 

This time, you are the one reaching out to touch him, you cup his cheeks and you surprise him when you pull him towards you to kiss him, to kiss his cheek. 

“You’re the best, Eddie,” you whisper before your lips meet his cheek again, “you’re my favorite person.”

You don’t pay attention to the way his cheeks flush red, you don’t see the way his eyes flash with something you haven’t seen before.

Eddie stares at you for the longest time and he suddenly feels flustered when he realizes that you can see the redness on his cheeks and his neck when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the wall and then, he remembers what Steve said to him last night.

It all comes rushing in and it overwhelms him.

He squeezes your hand, clearing his throat, “I-I’m gonna get us something to drink,” he says as he practically rushes out of his room, leaving the door open as he makes his way into the kitchen. He raises his hand, running his fingers through his hair as he lets out a long sigh. Turning on the lights, he places his hands on the counter, gripping it tightly. 

If only Harrington would have kept his fucking mouth shut.

Eddie was driving Steve back to his house, knuckles almost bleeding on the steering wheel, not a single word being said by neither of the men. Steve's temple was bruised, his fists as well and Eddie if he were to raise his shirt up, a bruise would be displayed on his rib.

The Harrington's house came into view and Eddie parked the car in front of it, waiting for Steve to come out. He heard the door open but it didn't close, making him turn to find Steve looking forward, eyes that Eddie could only describe as lost, yet with fire within them, as if angry.

“Munson.” It was the first time Steve has said a word to him.

“Yes Harrington?” And he was expecting a congratulations or a thank you or good job because of what they just did together to someone that hurt you. But Steve's gaze turned to him, a cold glare featuring in his eyes, and Eddie's face went rigid.

“You're a fucking liar.”

And then the door slams, and Steve Harrington goes back to his house, leaving Eddie Munson completely stunned inside of his van. 

Shit.

The sound of the freezer door closing startles him a little. He turns around with a frown, he finds you walking towards him with a bag of frozen peas in your hand, without a single word, you grab his right hand, placing the cold bag on his bruised knuckles. 

He looks down at you, swallowing nervously. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” you whisper, finally addressing it. You look up with glossy eyes, a knowing look lingers in them, you did not know how to approach this topic but, you don’t really have to. You know why he did it.

“Sweetheart–”

“Thank you,” you whisper as a happy tear runs down your cheek because for the first time, you feel protected and loved after all these years of believing that you do not deserve this. Eddie proved you wrong, time and time, he proved you wrong and showed you that you do deserve this and more.

Eddie gazes down at you like you are the most precious thing in the world. 

He wipes your tear away the way he always does before he pulls you into his arms. He holds you, he holds you tightly, like he never wants to let you go, like no one ever has before.

Eddie enjoys this moment, just standing here in the kitchen under dim lights with you in his arms before he has to ruin the moment. 

“You should thank Steve too.”

He feels the way you freeze in his arms and he also feels how you don’t pull away. 

“Steve was there too?”

“He was.”

You don’t say anything, you stay quiet and then you whisper a small ‘oh’ before you relax again and hug him tighter, pressing your cheek against his chest as you listen to his beating heart. 

Eddie tightens his hold on you as well, he kisses the top of your head. 

“Anybody that hurts you won’t walk away without a bruise.” He whispers.

Something changed and you can both feel it, you don’t understand it, not yet.

-

You should not be here. 

You know that you should be far away from this place. 

It was bad enough that you had called him three nights ago, that you had let yourself be vulnerable in front of him, that you had spent the morning with him, that you had let him drive you home, that you had hugged him. It was bad but it was nice, it was nice to be with him again. 

To drive in his car, to feel his arms around you again, to see him look at you. 

You never realized how much you missed it, how much you missed him. 

Your thoughts kept taking you back to him, especially today. The record store was mostly empty today and you stood behind the counter, listening to the music playing on the radio and drawing in the notebook that Eddie gave you. 

When Heroes by David Bowie started playing, you felt like you were being haunted, haunted by memories of you and him together.

You shouldn’t let your heart guide you here but it did, you let it, just like you always do. 

You wanted to see him, to thank him for what he did but you didn’t want to see this. 

You should be used to it by now, after months of seeing him with her, it should be easier, right? It’s not. 

And as you stand there, watching him kiss her on his porch, smiling against her and brushing the curls out of her face, you can’t help but feel that it will never be easier. 

He looks happy, happier than he ever did when he was with you and even though you let him go a long time ago, you still feel the ache in your heart, the hollowness in your stomach. 

He used to kiss you like this, though he never looked at you the way he looks at her – with the light in his eyes and the smile on his face, the one that doesn’t look forced or fake. 

You hear her giggle when he drops the keys to his house. He picks them up and pulls her back towards him, leaning down to kiss her cheek before he opens the door to let her in. 

You never watched him so closely when he was with her, you always avoided it, not wanting to hurt yourself more than necessary but now, you can see it all, the love and the happiness in his features. 

He loves her. 

You always knew that he did, yet, somehow it feels like you understood it all just now. 

He loves her. 

He claimed to have loved you too and maybe he did, maybe he did love you but never like this. 

A weird feeling settles in Steve’s heart and he doesn’t know what it is that pushes him to turn around but he does, he looks back as though expecting to see someone standing in his driveway but it’s empty.  

He doesn’t see anything but trees and the empty streets. 

He furrows his brows, almost confused to not see anyone. 

“Steve?” Nancy calls from inside the house, “come on.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles to himself before he turns around and walks inside. He holds the door, not shutting it yet, he takes one final look at his driveway, staring at it for a long minute before he closes the door. 

next chapter

-

tagging friends & mutuals

@mysticmunson @taintedcigs @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @wroteclassicaly @take-everything-you-can @trashmouth-richie @xxhellfiregirlxx @screammunson @nemesis729 @somethingvicked @sherrylyn628

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things angst

[milla-frenchy]

4k1 | Joel Miller x fem reader Summary: Joel takes you to Degradation Town Warnings: 18+mdni. CNC. PWP. Assault, gun threat, degradation, size kink, oral (m receiving), boob job, fingering, pussy slapping, face slapping, bondage, unprotected piv, rimming, anal, cum eating a/n : @aurorawritestoescape and I wrote this fic together. How amazing is that, to meet someone who lives in another part of the world, and to write a 4 hands fic. We want to thank our Dark Queen @toxicanonymity for creating an amazing community where Kate and I met 🖤  Love you both 🫶🫶🫶 The fic is named after The Kills album “Keep on your mean side” and the song “Hitched”. ao3

Kate's masterlist | My masterlist

It was a warm day at the beginning of the fall. The breeze was a bit chilly but the sun rays filtering through the canopy of the forest trees didn’t let you get cold. The crunching of dry leaves under your steps made you feel uneasy. You  didn’t want to attract any clickers. Your gaze was on the ground and you were searching for some mushrooms. 

Your thoughts carried you to the time when you would go foraging with your parents, many years ago. It was a hobby back then, not a necessity. You felt a dull pang in your chest. The memory of such a distant past now, as if it happened not in another life but in a completely different dimension, not to you but to a version of yourself. 

Deep in thought you missed another set of steps crunching the fallen leaves. Suddenly you sensed someone else’s gaze on you and was about to turn around ready to take your gun out to protect yourself, but it was too late. Huge arms gripped you from behind squeezing your frame tight and keeping your arms pressed to your body. 

“The fuck?!” you exclaimed and tried to headbutt the man behind you but he swerved your hit. You were fruitlessly wiggling in his steel embrace. 

 “Let m-me go, you fucker!!”

“Shhhh..” the man shushed you, placing his hot palm over your mouth to shut you up. His hand smelt of smoke and along with a loud drum of your heart you felt a tingle between your thighs.

He quickly disarmed you, taking your gun out of your holster and throwing it away into the bushes. The man was huge and strong and you were helpless against him. Yet you couldn’t give in so easily. So you quickly lifted up your foot and stepped down hard on the attacker’s boot. 

“Fuckin’ bitch!”

He winced and pushed you hard on the ground. You fell on all fours, got up to run but he quickly grabbed you by the hair and pulled you back to face him. “Not so fast, little slut!”

You screamed with a pain stinging your eyes, and looked up at him towering over you. The man was in his late fifties. His dark eyes were boring into you under the frowning brows. A gray shirt was strained by his broad shoulders and muscular arms. He was wearing jeans and you couldn’t help but glance at his prominent bulge. Was he semi hard? Now you had little doubt about the plans he had for you. 

Your eyes darted from tree to tree trying to see if he was accompanied or alone.

“Where d’ya think you're goin’ like this? You must be fuckin’ stupid to walk in the woods by yourself.”

He was holding your arm tight. You tried to pull away but he was too strong. You tried to reason with him, your voice shaky and small, “I’m not alone. I'm here as a scout, my group is close.”

“It’s cute, but I don’t think so. You’re on my perimeter. The only group here's mine. It’s so deserted around here, it’s been ages since I’ve come across a woman like you.” 

He put his hand on his crotch.

“Like me?”

“On your knees”

“Don’t think so,” you spat out at him. 

He smirked and pulled his gun out from the back of his jeans. 

“On your knees. Don’t wanna repeat.”

"No, wait. I can... we can work it out. Make trades.”

He pointed his gun at you and growled, “Last warning.”

You stared down the barrel contemplating your next move. 

“Fuck…”

He smirked again.

You got on your knees and he undid his belt before letting it fall to the ground. Then he unzipped his jeans, took out his cock, and approached you.

Your eyes widened and he smiled, “Yeah, I know. Now suck.”

“Please. Don’t do this to me.”

He removed the safety of his gun and pointed the barrel at your forehead.

“You’re really starting to piss me off.”

You stopped resisting. He just wanted you to suck him off. Could be worse. You might as well make him cum quickly in your mouth and be rid of it.

You quickly licked the tip of his cock, before placing your lips on it. You had trouble taking it all in your mouth, and you kept your lips only on the tip.

“Damn, you don’t even know how to suck a cock?”

Keeping the gun pointed at your forehead, he grabbed the back of your head with his other hand and held you still, while he thrusted into your mouth with a buck of his hips. He grunted, and keeping his hand against your head, began fucking your mouth at a quick pace.

“Yeah that’s it. Take it. Fuckin’ slut. Not used to sucking big cocks, are ya?”

Tears were beading in the corners of your eyes, you could barely breathe, his cock was hitting the back of your throat with each stroke. Your hands were gripping the jeans on his strong thighs. He stopped abruptly, keeping his cock buried deep in your throat.

“Don’t you dare fucking move.”

You waited, trapped between his grip and his cock. Then he released you and withdrew completely. You coughed and sputtered, holding your sore throat.

He laughed, “I don’t know how you survived this far. Surely not by sucking cocks. Again, now!"

You shook your head but he held you the same way as before, thrusting in and fucking your mouth fast and deep again. He tucked the gun into the back of his pants and grabbed your head with both hands before claiming you even faster and harder. He paused again, staying deep in your mouth, and said, "Good girl."

He pulled away and said: “Maybe you could get better with practice. Too bad I don't have time to find out. You're not worth wasting food on."

Before he could grab his gun, you quickly got up and ran towards the nearest trees, so he couldn't shoot you in the back. But he was fast, and didn't even try to reach for his gun. He ran after you and within seconds he was on your heels. He grabbed your shoulders and pulled you down.

You plunged down on the ground, dry leaves softening your fall. You tried to crawl away but he straddled your ass. The man was heavy and you felt your hips sink into the soil under you. 

“Get off me! Take all my stuff… Just let me go!” you pleaded but he just laughed. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your head back.  You cried out and winced at the sensation of his patchy beard scratching your cheek. 

“Stupid slut, ya really think I need your junk?” he growled in your ear and nuzzled your neck. Your  eyes rolled back at the sensation. 

“Your holes are all that you're good for.” 

He turned you over roughly and straddled your hips again. He clasped both of your wrists with one hand and pinned them over your head. He was panting and you saw drops of sweat on his forehead. His odor, an overwhelming mixture of sweat and musk, reached your nostrils. 

You were staring up at him with your eyes widened by fear. His grin was carnal and he was ogling down your body. Then he grabbed the neckline of your tank top and pulled it down in one swift motion, ripping the fabric easily. You cried out feeling the burn on your skin. Your whole chest was exposed to him now, and he quickly grabbed your breasts, squeezed them and then painfully twitched your perked up nipples.  A whine escaped your lips which didn’t go unnoticed by him. 

“Ain’t I lucky? Got myself a real whore. My men will love your pretty sounds when they’re stuffing your needy cunt.” 

He let go of your hands and you were about to fight when you saw him take out his gun. 

“Let’s start easy,” he said and you felt the cold muzzle pressed to your forehead. 

“Push them together,” he pointed at your breasts with a jerk of his head. 

You followed his order, pressing your tits together. You did not want to get shot. His hand reached behind your neck and he lifted up your upper body. “Make ‘em nice and juicy for me.” He was squeezing your neck tight and you glanced up at him with glossy eyes. 

Then you dropped your head down and spat. It landed on your chest and slid down between your breasts.

“More”, he commanded and gave your head a shake. You gathered more saliva in your mouth and opened your lips to let it dribble out. The man’s gaze followed its path, his eyes blown out, and when it reached your plush breasts he began smearing the liquid over your tits with his thick fingers, gliding them through your cleavage and then rubbing it over your perked up nipples. You whined. 

The man stood up on his knees on both sides of your hips and took out his leaking cock. You were following his every move pushing your breasts together for him to use. 

“Look at you! Waiting to be titty fucked. Bet that’s why you were walkin’ alone in the woods- were waitin’ for a nice big cock to find ya.”

He grabbed you by the neck and quicky pushed his cock between your tits and started fucking them. You were sitting as still as possible, watching him use you for his pleasure, his mouth agape and half lidded eyes devouring the sight of your glistening breasts massaging his cock. 

You were mesmerized by the movements of his tip sliding closer and then further away from your face. 

“Don’t just stare, slut, lick it!” 

Still holding your tits for him, you stuck your tongue out and every time the angry red head approached your face, you kitten-licked its weeping slit. 

You pressed your thighs together looking for some pressure on your pussy. You moaned softly and the man noticed it. Still looking at you with dazed eyes, he smirked.

“What is it, little whore? Your pussy wants attention, huh?”

Having said that, he released your neck and not expecting it you fell back on the ground. 

Pointing the gun at your face he kicked your thighs apart with his knee. “Let’s see her.”

You inhaled sharply, and did what he told you- slid the jeans and panties down your legs exposing yourself to him. He snatched the underwear off your ankles and pressed them to his nose. 

He closed his eyes, breathing in your scent and slowly pumping his throbbing cock. ”Soaked them through, ya dirty girl. Your sloppy cunt really wants my dick.” 

Then he leaned over you with a groan and shoved your panties into your whining mouth. 

“Taste, yourself, slut. Come on. Open your legs. Wider…”

You opened up your thighs and looked up at him. His broad frame covered you from the sun completely, his face close to yours. The taste of your own slick turned you on. 

One second you felt his fingers at your entrance and the next he plunged them into your pussy. The arousal flowing out of you made the intrusion almost painless and you felt so full so fast, your head started spinning. His groan brought you back.  

“Mmm, fuck yeah, so wet. Bet you can soak many cocks right now.” He lowered his head, pulled your panties out of your mouth and grazed his lips over yours, not kissing you yet your heart seemed to stop at that moment. “S’good that I stumbled on ya, little slut. My men will be pleased.”

As fast as he filled you, he pulled his fingers out and sat back on his knees between your thighs. Your pussy clamped around nothing. You felt a cold breeze on your wet folds and wiggled on the ground. 

“Lie still!” the man snapped and slapped your pussy so hard you yelped and started crying. You chewed on your lip trying to control your emotions but all of them drowned you whole and your chest was shaking with sobs. 

The attacker’s dark smile sent chills all over your trembling body. He quickly gave your poor pussy another blow, less painful yet you tried to close your legs. That really angered him. 

“Fuckin’ pain in the ass. Can’t stay still, dumb whore. You’re gonna get it anyway.”

He grabbed your neck with one hand, and you instinctively stood up following his movements, your throat already sore from the way he fucked your mouth.

He dragged you to his backpack and pulled out a rope while maintaining his grip on your neck. You felt all your hairs stand up, and the blood left your face. He pulled you to the nearest tree, against which he pinned you, back to the trunk. He pressed himself to you, straining his hard cock against your naked pussy. He put your hands above your head and tied them to the tree with the rope. He squeezed so hard while tying your wrists that you started sobbing again.

He took a few steps back to look at you, naked from the waist down, your breasts exposed, your top torn in half. Then he took his cock in his hand.

“No…please… I'll do anything"

"Oh, you will", he said, smirking.

He came up, pressed himself against you and spread your legs with his knees, before pushing his cock into your pussy. You cried out, being split open by his huge member. His fingers had prepared you a little but he was so big and girthy you felt a slight burning. He put his hand over your mouth and asked “Really wanna scream and get my men here to ruin your holes?”

You froze looking into his dark hungry eyes.

“So? Fuckin answer me.”

You shook your head.

“That’s better,” he said, removing his hand.

He sped up the thrusting but the position didn't allow him to fuck you as deep as he wanted. So he grabbed your thighs in his hands and put them around his waist, before sliding into you again and bottoming out this time, in one go.

“No! No… please…. I can’t.”

He growled against your ear scratching your cheek with his stubble, picking up the pace. 

“Fuckin slut. Gonna take you back to my camp. My men will enjoy your… fuck… your pussy.”

"No! Please!"

“Oh fuck that’s good. Your cunt is fuckin tight. Fuuuuck…”

He was making you bounce on his cock, holding your thighs so tight against him that he was hitting  your cervix with each stroke.

“How many guys can fuck you before you pass out, huh? Your pussy’d be so full of cum that we’d call you our cumbag, before fucking you again. So long since we fucked a wet hole like yours. Oh fuck…. that’s good.”

He didn’t slow down and still was fucking you just as hard and fast. You couldn’t help but moan as his dick was massaging your g-spot. 

“You have so many holes to fill, dumb slut. It would be a shame to use just one, yeah?” he asked, panting against your ear. “We can fuck your pussy, mouth and ass at the same time. Fuck all your three holes, for hours. What'd ya think of it, bitch?”

Suddenly his hands let go of your thighs and you put your feet back on the ground, your legs weak and shaking after the pounding. “Let’s see your ass, slut,” he murmured and started untying your hands. When your hands were free you almost fell on the ground exhausted but he grasped your hair and pulled you up. 

“Not done with you. Turn around.”

“Please, no,” you begged, your voice quiet and weak but he answered your pleading with a slap on your tear-stained cheek. Your skin burned and not wanting to make him angry again, you followed his command and turned around. He grabbed your hands and pinned them around the tree like you were hugging it, tying them together. 

His finger glided along the scratches on your back and ass, left by the tree bark after his rough fucking and he slapped your ass cheek so hard your breath hitched. A half moan half sob left your lips and you pressed your body to the tree to get further away from your attacker. 

“What are you doing? Please, no… not that.” You begged him with tremors in your voice.

He didn’t answer. You turned your head to look at him, but his eyes were fixed on your ass. He spread your cheeks with his hands.

“Damn…,” he said.

He left one of his hands on one of your buttocks to keep spreading them, and brushed your asshole with his fingers. Without lingering on it he glided them down to your pussy and plunged two fingers into you.

“Can’t believe ya’re soaked getting fucked by a stranger who jumped you. You wanted that, huh? Fuckin slut.”

He drew his fingers out, and this time went back up to your asshole. He placed his middle finger on your ring and gently pressed it. Surprisingly gently, considering how violent he had been so far.

That didn’t stop you from panicking. You couldn't take it there. He was too big.

He pressed harder on the ring. The tip of his middle finger prodded inside just a little. He went back to your pussy and collected your wetness again, then returned to your ass, gliding his fingers along your skin on the way. He pressed on your asshole, and this time it gave in more.

You were paralyzed. Restricted by the rope on your hands, by his physical power. By your fear which froze you.

He pressed his body to you, and whispered in your ear, “This one is really tight.”

You swallowed, and wondered if he was really gonna do it. If he was just trying to scare you, or if... and then he pushed his middle finger in further, up to the knuckle. He moved it in and out, but you were so tight around his finger.

He removed it and pressed his cock to your ass. He whispered in your ear, “How am I gonna fit all my cock in it? You should relax if you don’t want it to be too painful.”

You felt him kneel behind you. He spread your ass cheeks with his hands, wide. And spat. You felt saliva flow from the top of the crease of your ass, down to your asshole. He didn't move, as if he was watching it slide.

The moment you felt the liquid reach your ring, he added his tongue to it. He slid it down and spread the saliva around your tense muscle.

And he licked your ass, slowly. He didn’t rush it. His hands were still spreading your buttocks, his mouth not leaving your asshole for a second, working his tongue over it. He pulled back slightly, and licked his middle finger before pressing it against your rear entrance. He went in easily this time. He took it out, and added a second finger. You bit your upper arm. Again he licked your ass. You felt his tongue searching you, his saliva moistening your hole.

“Mmm”, he said.

He got up and you heard him spit into his hand, before applying the saliva to his tip. He grabbed your shoulder with one hand for leverage and pressed his cock against your ring.

You struggled, pulling on the rope.

“Fuck! Stop that, you’re pissin’ me off again.”

You didn’t stop until you heard the click of his gun again. Then you felt the cold metal against your temple and froze.

“I’m gonna fuck your ass. Whether you’re alive, or not. Your choice."

His voice was ice cold.

You closed your eyes and relaxed your muscles as best you could. And you felt him push. Force passage. It seemed like an eternity, and he growled against your ear.

“So…fuckin tight.”

In a second the tip of his cock entered. You gasped from the pain.

He pulled back before pushing again and you cried out.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch” he said, before putting his hand over your mouth and pressing the muzzle to your temple more firmly.

He made back and forth movements, bigger and bigger. Sinking into you a little deeper each time.

“Oh yeah… oh fuck! Oh that ass…. fuck.”

He picked up the pace.

“You know what I want now? I want ya to cum on my cock. My big cock ruining your ass.”

You shook your head. No way you’d give him that. But he slid his hand down to your pussy, pushing you away from the trunk a little. He lingered on your clit, before burying two fingers in your pussy.

“Still dripping.. such a good slut for me.”

He applied the same rhythm to his cock and his fingers. You bit your lip, trying not to give him what he wanted. He felt your holes contracting, his fingers still in your pussy. 

“No… stop it.”

You felt the gun press to your temple again.

“Gimme what I want. I want you to squeeze my cock while you cum.”

You felt your body react to his fingers. The wave was coming. You tried to stop it, but to no avail. Your breathing quickened.

"Oh, yeah. You're gonna be a good girl for me, I can feel it. Fuck, you’re really gonna cum for a man you don’t know, a man who’s assaulting you. What kinda whore does that?”

He kept sliding his thumb over your clit, two fingers in your pussy, his cock in your ass. Your core tightened as you came with a long moan, not being able to hold back any longer. 

“Oh fuck yeah! Squeezing my cock and my fingers. What a slut! Oh fuck!”

The waves of climax shook your body time and time again. you shut your eyes tight feeling your holes clamping around his cock and fingers.

“Fuckin hell, little thing, it’s so tight. Nah, wanna see your face.” He pulled his cock out of your asshole and his fingers left your stretched pussy. He rushed to untie your hands, his cock throbbing and smearing his precum and your juices on your back. 

He roughly turned you around and being absolutely spent you plopped on your knees. The man didn’t mind. His hand grabbed your hair and he held your head up, his glistening tip being just a few inches from your face. 

“Gonna paint your face now. Open wide.” You parted your lips and closed your eyes but he slapped your cheek again. 

“Eyes on the prize, slut!”

You followed his command and looked at his big veiny hand pumping his cock vigorously. It was drenched with your combined fluids and the sounds of squelching and his heavy breathing filled the air around you. He moaned and started coming, shooting thick ropes of cum on your face. You felt them on your cheeks, nose, tongue and lips. In your mind you thanked him for not coming into your eyes. 

He milked the last drop out of his cock and then looked down at you with half lidded eyes. The lips twitched up with a small smile as he observed his work.  

“Oh, look at ya, all filthy, my little slut,” he cooed at you mockingly. “Show me.” He took your chin with his fingers and lifted it up. You opened your mouth wider showing his cum glistening on your tongue. He huffed with a proud look. “Such a good whore for me. Now let’s clean you up.” 

Still holding your face by the chin, he began collecting his spend with his finger and wiping it on your tongue. You felt his salty cum slide down and into your throat. Your eyes teared up but he didn’t let you close your mouth until your face was clean. 

“Swallow,” he said calmly as his hand left your chin. 

Your throat contracted, downing all of his cum and you licked your lips. Then you opened your mouth again, stuck out your tongue, showing him the result and looking up with a teary and adoring gaze. His hand cupped your cheek and he stroked it with his thumb. 

“Thank you, Joel,” you said quietly and he gave you a soft smile. He helped you up and held you close against him, rubbing your body and warming it up. 

“Thought you were gonna use the safe word this time. I got carried away,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. 

“No, it’s fine. I’m a tough girl,” you whispered, tilting your head up to look at him. He kissed you, gently and lovingly, as your body and soul found comfort in his embrace.

*********

@iamasaddie @multiversed-daydreamer

#joel miller #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #rough cnc #consensual noncon

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere male Areal??

Yandere Genderbend Ariel x Reader

Well, what were you supposed to say when you saw some girl come out of the water singing with a shell on her neck? But for your parents, it was perfect grounds to leave you with a forced 'apology gift' of being the head planner for their wedding ceremony. You felt it was ironic that was your 'punishment' when your the king and queen spent a whole day with your sister being hypnotized and hadn’t noticed–but whatever. You didn’t mind and in the end, Erica admitted she never blamed you. You’d do this not only to get your parents off your back but for your sister even if her groom was a hopeless case.

“No Arrel! Don’t put that in your mouth!“

“But it looks just like–”

“It doesn’t belong there! Spit. It. Out.”

Perhaps this was why they didn’t bother, they knew you’d have a hard time educating the merprince. Since his negotiated stay for the wedding and there on a switch occurred: while the prince is on land the princess navigates the sea. It was Triton’s final stipulation, her only way to test and know the woman meant to take away her darling boy.

“How is he fairing?”

“Your Highness…he’s got a ways to go…”

You lifted your shoulders up as you moved your hands like a seesaw. Facing the magical reflection of the Queen of Atlantica, who twirled her trident and stroked her braid.

“Ah I know that tone…my Arrel is so much like his father…a little scatterbrained, yes but his heart was always in the right place.”

Surrounded by smile lines she reminisced with a sad fondness. You admired the ruler, even if she might’ve hated your family in the beginning. But just as any human would she cared about family and that was more uniting than anything. 

“Speaking of, how’s my sister? Not giving you too much trouble I hope?”

Triton chuckled, “Oh no she’s been a dream and a fast learner too!”

“Ah, that's good.”

“She says she misses you.”

You playfully scoffed, ”That softy, of course, she’d say that.”

Talking late into the night, you both exchanged the highlights of your family’s adventures. Snickering to one another as you laugh at their failures, playfully jesting with one another about them. But the night was drawing to a close and with yawns from you, you moved to make your departure.

“Oh (Y/n), before you go–I have a bit of advice for you when training Arrel?”

“Oh?”

____________________________________________________

“Alright, Arrel we’re going to try something a little different today.”

“Uughhhh! Is this new thing going to be how I’m supposed to move these feet!? All day these tu-ders have been making me use them and I’m just tired of it!”

“Oh? That’s too bad, we were going to walk into town–”

“LET’S GO!”

Hopping giddily on the feet he claimed to exhaust minutes ago, he followed you to the prepared carriage ready to take you both into town. Bouncing his knees and smashing his face into the window to look at the surrounding greenery. Tapping twice at the wood above you the carriage rolled to a stop just outside the town. The redhead tilted his head at you following eagerly as you stepped out and waved the carriage off. 

“Today you’re going to explore the town for yourself.”

“Myself? Like I pick where we walk!?”

“Yes, yes I’m just here if you have any questions. So where first princey?”

He excitedly intertwined his hand with yours before darting off in a clumsy run. Dashing through the marketplace as he searched for a specific stall. When he found it he released you stopping abruptly, naturally leaving you to smash into his back. Steadying yourself you walked beside him as he excitedly smiled at the stand.

“I want those things!”

“Things? Do you mean the apples?”

“Ah-pulls? Is that the red rocks?”

“They’re fruit, and their called–A-pples.”

“Aaaahhhh-pulls?”

Paying for the fruit would be the first of Arrel’s many souvenirs that he gained throughout his field trip. The lesson was more engaging and fruitful than anything you had tried before. Exercising new vocabulary and practicing the right platitudes when speaking with others, Arrel was learning so much. Watching the mer-prince’s mind racing with excitement as he truly came to learn what life as a human was like. You could understand why Erica fell so fast.

“Ah the uhm–sun, is settling, right?”

“Close enough. We’re allowed to be out a little bit longer if you want but if you’re tired–”

“Hmmm, I want to go to one last place! Is that okay (Y/n)? “Yup but where do you want to go?”

“I can’t think of the word uh just come with me!”

Once again weaving your fingers with his own he pulled you away from the populated streets of the town. Taking you to a place that sparked a forlorn nostalgia in its discovery. The grotto. As you helped Arrel who was trying to recall the actions of Erica to send you out on the boat, you let the memories of the place run wild. 

“Come on (Y/n)! I found this cool place where I can be the captain!”

“Okay okay! Wait for me *huff huff* I have tiny legs.”

Just like before you let eager hands take the handles of the paddles from you, in order to enjoy the way the reflecting light shines in their eyes. Letting you sit back to see the beauty in their dreams flash in their eyes. 

Arrel was no different than Erica.

Beautifully smiling as your boat floats into the blue lagoon. It was a gem, that no doubt was the catalyst of many romances. Drifting from under the rising moon to the roof of the willow tree’s branches, entering a world of flora and fauna. Firefly lights illuminated the space giving a magical glow to space; you’d be concerned if you didn’t fall in love. 

“...Isn’t it fantastic? Those eels got in the way last time but now…this is perfect!”

Arrel mumbled to himself to which you tilted your head.

“Uhm Arrel wouldn’t it really be perfect if you were back here, with Erica?”

“...Well yeah…but I don’t know it feels right like back then!”

“Arrel…is this feeling awe?”

"Awww?"

“Awe. Like you’re enamored with nature and feel of this place.”

“Mmmh that sounds right!”

“But do you realize how that sounds when–ugh forget it you probably don’t even notice anyway.”

You quieted after that and enjoyed the orchestra of croaking frogs and crickeys. Gingerly reclaiming the paddles when Arrelbegan to dangerously slump against the boat. With great coaxing, you returned to the entrance of the lagoon and scheduled for the carriage ride home. 

This would be the first of many new adventures into the town. Triton encouraged a more rewarding type of learning for his son whose attention was short for study but active for his curiosity. And it had become quite the brag to have the prince whine through his other lessons to attend your own. So in between you’re days spent organizing the intricacies of the wedding, you were taking Arrel into the town. On particularly busy days you did try assigning Grimsey to be his chaperone but the prince wouldn’t budge; instead, he spend his day clinging to your leg. Sullying your pant leg with his tears he refused to commit to his outings if you weren’t the one guiding him.

Other than that little hiccup, it was smooth sailing. Magically calling Triton as you both gushed about your respective students. As the days counted by the glorious day of the wedding was surging forth and you along with everyone else were on cloud 9. 

It would be a glorious day.

____________________________________________

The news came as quick as a light shower. Lightly washing over the freshly painted smile on your face. Leaving an incredulous daze to take place as you could only tentatively look at the greyed sky.

“W-what?!”

“Erica…is dead.”

Perhaps it was because you hadn’t seen the body. Maybe that was why you didn’t immediately cry; you didn’t believe it. The princess–-your sister was supposed to return today. Return to her post on land to prepare for the big day. To whine in your ear about all her worries and woes as you fitted her gown for the overeating she most definitely did while in Atlantica. She and Arrel would have been squealing and twirling one another as though they’d been apart for years.

They ruled it an accident. Pure coincidence that the second she had been given her legs and ran to your parents she wobbled, clutched at her chest, and collapsed. A heart failure…an underlying condition she must have been secretly stoking with her hunger for adrenaline. A horrible match really. 

The king and queen weren’t the only ones to witness the sight, Arrel was there as well. Having slipped past an adamantly guarding Grimsey to hug his beloved fiancee. Slowing his run when he found that her reaching out to him was not in welcome but in a reluctant farewell. Triton looking horrified from the safety of the sea, not only witnessed the fragility of humans firsthand but the terror it brought her baby boy.

Both kingdoms were thrown in disarray. The ones on land were rightfully devastated as the white decor became black with mourning. Those in the water did their own preparations longing not only for the loss of a new friend but of the uncertainty this meant. War? Forever severed ties between kingdoms? Atonement? Nothing was set in stone, even the status of Prince Arrel was a tempest gray. So overcome with grief he refused his mother and brothers when they begged him to come home.

“No…I won’t….not when…she’s gone.”

Your parents, too consumed in their own grief and the state of the kingdom to give nothing but tearful remarks to the prince. So it was up to you. Up to you to chaperone the fish out of the water with a new lesson. A grim one. All about continuing on if only in reverence of those beyond. 

“Do…you not have funerals in Atlantica?”

“Barely…we live…long…healty lives…”

You dryly laughed, looking past your veil at the lowering coffin.

“Heh, guess we just aren’t meant to last that long.”

Arrel looked at you noting the salted water streaming down your face and the way your lips curved the opposite of their usual state. He did what he saw others do: wrapping his arms around you, subconsciously curling into the warmth you provided. 

Living humans were so much warmer. 

He found that to be true when he awoke in the same position behind you in Erica’s bed. You couldn’t sleep, trudging through the halls into her room.  Grazing your fingers along the untouched relics of her past. Shining brightly under the stream of the moonlight’s beams was Erica’s bed. So undisturbed it made you hesitate to ruin it even in your tired state. But in your mind was the memory of a younger Erica reaching out to you from her bed as she looked longingly at the sea.

“(Y/n), come come. I’m always happy to have you in bed with me. Cozy up with your big sis every once in a while…”

So with her voice and smile replaying in your clouded mind you curled into her bed. Shuffling under her comforter, smelling the faint remnants of her presence within the sheets. Unshed tears collected in your lashes as you succumbed to much-needed sleep. Completely unaware of the prince with a similar yearning. Tired and consumed with grief he saw no problem with shoving his nose into the crook of your neck as he curled himself around you. 

You smelt nice. 

Not the same as Erica but comforting all the same.

He’d spend many nights completing this ritual. Having waking moments that led to joining you in Erica’s bed. Waking together with the comfort of one another's heat before silently encouraging one another to eat. Even when you no longer found yourself needing to go to Erica’s room, Arrel still found himself waking up beside you. 

It didn’t feel right not to at this point. 

______________________________________________

As your debilitating depression became something manageable you found yourself able to offer your guidance to the rest of the castle. Becoming a figurehead as the only remaining heir and one of the few able to look logically through this season in the kingdom. 

“(Y/n)...my baby…we worry that with this incident the kingdom has fallen behind in their affairs…”

“Truthfully we’d rather devastate ourselves than put you in this position–”

“Right, this is only if it’s alright with you…if you’d even consider it. Its a big responsibility–”

“Mother Father, please. Tell me what does the kingdom need?”

Letting out a shaky sigh she continued, “With this–no doubt severed connection with the sea kingdom it's best that we start looking to wed suitors with nearby kingdoms…”

You nodded. It was expected—that the next course of action was to reach for security. Even with the contact established for Triton attempting to speak with a distraught Arrel it wasn’t a situation to debate. Already having to dissuade the misinformed conspirators that were insistent that it was the mer-population fault along with the general instability of the kingdom. You were prepared for this, as you’d been raised to. 

“I will begin looking at suitors two days from now.”

“S-so soon?!” 

“We might as well move fast while all the preparations for a wedding remain. Not to mention this is for the kingdom, right your Highnesses?”

“Y-yes!”

“T-thank you, (Y/n)! We’ll begin preparing right away!” 

When you exited the room you released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Swallowing a silent plea you deeply inhaled and exhaled, holding your head high as you made your way through the castle. There was much to be done and no one needed a moping leader. 

Unbeknownst you a certain bird was intently listening through an open window. 

_______________________________________________________

When the day came, you fought the turmoil in your tummy as you let yourself be dolled up. Settling in the comfort of the garden for the suitors to give their impressionable first meeting. At the sound of the bell, the speed dates interviews would begin. With cups full of tea you would let various royal suitors talk you up about their many ventures. After a day full of bragging and insincere condolences as they attempted to capture you’re attention. Taking note of the least hated potentials, you sighed but nodded for the maid to call in the last suitor. Keeping your eyes on the cold ceramic you prepared yourself for the final interview.

“You look…tired.”

Your eyes snapped up to meet the sullen blues of a familiar redhead. Dressed in the pink drawstring blouse and matching pants, he looked the most put together since the funeral. 

“...Arrel?”

“Do we have to stay at this…venue?” 

Visibly trying the word on his tongue he smiled at you. Hand outstretched to you with the eyes of a mature prince. Torn between familiarity and proper etiquette you take his hand. Letting him lead you through your own castle to the entrance where a carriage was waiting. Helping you in first, you let Arrel tap the roof of the carriage starting an unknown route. 

You didn’t bother speaking, finding that more was understood when nothing was said at all. Resting into the cushion of the seat you barely registered the familiar buildings and stalls being passed by. Sitting up to look at the waving citizens of the town.

“Are we-?”

You didn’t bother finishing, turning to look at Arrel who was lightly smiling as he looked out the opposite window. 

When the carriage stopped it was at the man-marked dock of the blue lagoon. A simple wooden boat tied and awaiting you and Arrel as its passengers. Once again hand-in-hand he pulled you along seating you in the boat before pushing away. Discretely making eye contact with the coachman and guard who briefly tilted their hat to you; you assured that this was planned. 

He paddled efficiently moving past the light current of the water to re-enter the willow’s cove. The moon was far from full instead the light was that of a small crescent. Letting firefly light bring dramatic shadows to his otherwise bright face. His darkened eyes remained on you, for the most part, harvesting an intensity unfamiliar to you. It kept you quiet for the most part, waiting until he spoke.

“My Father died, prematurely too.”

“...I’m sorry?”

“It was a human ship, you know. What you’d call Pie-rats?”

“Pirates.”

“Right. Well, they were the ones who killed him. He was…supposed to live longer.”

He was looking into the murky waters below, unglowing, and seemingly blacker than the night sky. The look was distant and foreboding, a widened terror to them that reminded you of a fear you would have felt during the news of a lost-at-sea Erica. You spoke if only to bring him back but it didn’t seem to sway him.

“Arrel.”

“But it's not like all humans are bad…heck I’m sure I’d be just as bad if nature hated me the same way!”

“E-excuse me?”

“Don’t you know that (Y/n)?”

He looked to you this time. Turning away from the edge of the boat directly to you, face distorted in a way you couldn’t behold. The darkness of nature made it worse only giving you a glimpse of the grieved madness swirling in his eyes—the blueness exchanged for a black substitute unmoving from you as he spoke. 

“I’m sure humans were supposed to live as long as us mermaids, you know? B-but if you look at Erica and anyone else in that town’s graveyard it's obvious that's just the same case for you!”

“Arrel!”

Something about how he said her name, rubbed you the wrong way. Eager to stop, what had to be a mental breakdown, you leaned forward gripping the collar of his shirt. Pulling him close to your face as you tried to search his eyes. 

“Arel stop it! D-don’t try to compare our lifespans to yours…this is just what you sign up for when you decide to love a human…”

You released him in order to nurse the burning in your eyes. Sinking back into your seat you used your sleeves, scolding yourself in the darkness. Fleeting lights of the fireflies hardly let you see your own sleeves, as you sniveled. So focused on yourself it didn’t matter at the time that he smiled into his hand before giving a muffled dry laugh.

“I guess you’re right… it's my fault for falling in love with a human right? Heh, heh then if Its all my fault I should fix it right?”

“W-what?!”

“Right (Y/n)?! I’m going to fix it! You’ll let me won’t you!?”

“W-wait?! W-what!?”

He moved fast, stabilizing himself on the sides of the boat. Moving closer to you until you could feel the boat shake with its weight. Letting his knee stabilize himself in between your legs as he leaned in close. Nose and breath fanning against you’re own it scared you even more that you couldn’t see his face. 

“I know where the sea wizard’s lair is and he has loads of knick-knacks for keeping humans alive.”

“H-hold on–?”

“I could even turn you into a mermaid! Per-man–ent-ly!”

“Ar-”

“Or-? I could turn everyone into a mermaid then you’d have to live longer right?” 

“Arrel!”

You tried to push him away stopping when the boat shook too much, making you tuck your arms against your person as he moved his hands to your seat. He tucked his head against your head, nuzzling into you as he wrapped his arms around you. Practically uncaring of the instability of the boat.

“You’ll pick me.” 

He let his lips graze along your ear. Shuddering you fruitlessly attempted to move, failing.

“What?!”

“To marry. You’re going to marry me. I’ll be keeping you alive one way or another.”

“Arrel, you can’t–”

“I will and if that means making you like me that’s fine….Otherwise, I’ll just do it to everyone too! Then you can live forever like me!”

#yandere genderbent #yandere genderbend #yandere genderbent ariel #yandere genderbend disney #yandere genderbent disney #yandere merman #yandere disney genderbend #yandere disney #yandere disney genderbent #yandere x reader #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yandere disney x reader #yandere genderbend little mermaid #yandere x you

[f0point5]

As if you couldn't turn Max watching her breathe into a masterpiece, don't lie🙄 idk maybe they're driving around in her new car and they coincidentally see Elliot😂 would be a nice reprieve from *clenched teeth* freddie

Sooo.

I tried to incorporate a bit of Max watching her just breathe because it’s funny. But also Elliot. But also the car.

But also mostly I was just freaking out because the male perspective is so alien to me. This might suck. We’re going to be KIND if it sucks because I’m just a girl okay men don’t make sense to me.

Anyway, I’m deciding to name this one because this is what I was listening to when I wrote it.

✨set during winter break✨

Call It What You Want To

“How do you take this long to get ready?” Max groans in frustration, dragging his hand over his face.

He’s been waiting 45 minutes. Not the longest he’s ever waited for you, but he’s been looking forward to this night out for two whole days. After everything that’s gone on in the last couple of weeks, and how none of that is likely to be resolved before Testing next week, he could really use a drink or twelve.

“I’m almost done,” he hears you call back, your tone telling him you’re unbothered by leaving him waiting. “Do you want everyone to think you have an ugly girlfriend?”

Max opens his mouth to reply but closes it just as quickly. What is he supposed to say to that? That no one on earth has ever thought his girlfriend is anything less than breathtakingly beautiful, so much so that it stopped him for thinking you could ever be his girlfriend more than once? That sometimes during a race he looks at the tv screens on the track in case you’re on camera? That whenever he passes the picture of you in his hallway he thinks he’d have hung it up even if he didn’t know you, because you’d still be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen? No. He’s not saying any of that. Three months is way too soon to let you know that you could use his balls as earrings. It’s not like you need a bigger head.

“I want my girlfriend to get to the club before it closes,” he shouts, stifling a smile. It’s been three months, but he still likes saying girlfriend.

“You’re such a drama queen,” he hears you say, your voice getting closer as you make your way to the living room. “We can’t all just put on a t-shirt with a funny saying on it and-“

You stop when you round the couch and finally notice him staring at your slinky black satin dress. Actually, he’s staring at the parts of you not covered by the dress, which gives him a lot to stare at. He might just give everyone what they want and quit driving if they could promise him he’d only have to lol at you in this dress for the rest of his life.

“What?” You ask him, which has him blinking furiously, trying to focus. You’re holding out a pair of heels to him, the ones you bought with the gift card his dad’s wife had given you for your birthday.

“Nothing,” he says, taking the shoes from you. He shifts off the couch to kneel in front you, lifting your leg to put the shoes on your foot and do up the buckle. “You look good,”

Above him, he hears you chuckle, and then your fingers run through his hair. You’re petting him like a cat, and he’ll be damned if he ever admits how close he feels to purring.

“Why does that still sound like it’s painful for you to admit?” You tease, using a bit more of your nails on the final run through of his hair.

“It’s not painful,” he tells you winding the glittering strap around your ankle.

It’s not painful. Sometimes it’s a lump in his throat, or a tightening in his chest. Sometimes, when he’s on one knee in front of you like he is now, it’s an urge to say something he can’t yet find the words for. But no, it’s not painful.

He finishes with your other shoe, squeezing your calf gently before placing a kiss on the inside of your knee.

“You’re just painfully gorgeous,” he says as he gets to his feet. “Can we go?”

You roll your eyes at him with with a smile. “Your car or mine?”

********************

He chooses to take your car. Every time he gets in your Ferrari, he thinks about Vegas. He drives it often.

He weaves through the streets of Monaco with one hand on your thigh, and he can’t remember where the fuck he was putting that hand before you.

“The thing is, unless the contract gets sorted next week, he’s totally fucked,” you’re saying as Max turns onto Avenue Princesse Grace. There’s a gaggle of people outside with their phones out. Simply fucking lovely. “You’re not listening to me are you?”

Max turns to you, squeezing your thigh as the car slows. “Of course I am, Engel. Do me a favour? Just say fuck again, a bit slower,”

“You’re twelve,”

“You would not have gone out with me at twelve,” Max jokes, slowing to a stop in front of Twiga as a valet comes towards the car.

“You were cute at twelve,” you say, “fourteen is where it started to go haywire,”

Before he can respond, you’re getting out of the car, and immediately the camera phones are focused on you. Max follows you out, handing the keys to the valet as he tries to ignore the feeling of being hunted. He wonders if they know he can hear every word they’re saying. He wonders if they’d like him to take their picture and post it all over the internet. He watches you slink through the crowd towards him, not even bothering to pretend you’re not being watched.

It’s ironic, he thinks, he brings the spotlight, but you’re the one who shines in it.

Inside the lobby, you head straight for the elevator while he talks to the woman at the front desk- it’s a well rehearsed routine. Lando isn’t here yet, typical. He asks if they can send over some St. Tropez cocktails and some gin tonics, and texts Lando to hurry up, before turning to join you at the lifts.

Except, he notices, you’re not alone. You’re standing by the lifts, with a big smile on your face, explaining something to a guy with a familiarly large head.

Max has seen Elliot around a couple of times. Monaco is stupidly small, especially in the winter when it’s nearly empty. The two men always studiously ignore each other, because what is there to say? Max doesn’t know if Elliot knows that you’re together now, and he knows it shouldn’t matter, but it does.

He didn’t hate Elliot in Austin, even though he’d planned to. But then they’d met and Max found he really couldn’t hate someone who was as smitten with you as he was, as he’d always been.

He finds that he kind of hates Elliot now, though, as he gets close enough to hear you giggle at something.

“No. It was actually okay, just cold, you know?“ you stop when Max places a hand on the small of your back, where you dress is low enough that he’s touching your skin. You turn to him. “Oh, hey. Is Lando here?”

Max shakes his head.

“Typical.” You sigh. “Max, you remember Elliot, right?”

“Yeah.” He says, and they shake hands. How are you?”

“Can’t complain,” Elliot says with a shrug. His shirt matches your dress. Fuck him.

“Well, you can if you want,” Max jokes, except it’s not a joke because he hates those Britishisms. If you want to say something just say it. And if things are fine and you have nothing to complain about why make it sound- he just doesn’t like the guy. And he doesn’t like that you liked the guy.

Mercifully, the lift arrives, and when it does, Max steps aside.

“You take this one,” he says, gesturing to the open lift. Elliot looks like he wants to refuse out of politeness in the way only English people do, so Max forces himself to put everyone out of their misery. “It’s the least I can do,”

It’s such a dickhead thing to say, but he can’t help but smirk, and it does the trick. Elliot gives both of you a tight lipped smile and steps into the lift, pulling out his phone as the door closes.

You turn to face him, his hand falling away from your back as you fix him with a quizzical look. He waits for you to chastise him for his comment, then wonders fleetingly if you’re comparing him, in his silly t-shirt and tight jeans, to Elliot in his perfectly crisp chinos. Then he finds himself staring at your lips.

“Oh, right,” you say suddenly, tapping his shoulder. “That’s what I was saying. So this builder says he’s ordered all the materials, but he has to no contract. And my dad…”

Max listens to you talk, winding his arms around your waist in a way he’s still getting used to, and you smile at him in a way he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to. He promises himself then never to get angry with you when you’re getting ready. You’re worth the wait.

#max verstappen x reader

[ineffablesuffering]

Pub Quiz (Crowley X Reader)

*not my gif!*

Warnings: use of alcohol, i think that's it? oh and crowley in a turtleneck - thats a major warning.

Pairing: Crowley x gn!reader.

Word Count: 2,355 (i got a bit carried away writing this whoops)

Note: to the lovely anon that sent me a request; i'm working on it! i see you!

Masterlist

_____________________________________

“Oh, c’mon it will be fun, you never want to do anything fun,” you whine.

“I’m plenty fun,” Crowley said, sipping his whisky. You roll your eyes at him. The Drunken Donkey was hosting a music quiz and you were desperate to go.  You had grown up around all sorts of music and back when you were a young teenager discovering the world of ‘decent music’ as your dad had put it, he would test you on your knowledge and it was something you had become quite fond of.

“Please,” you beg, “I’ll buy you a new plant, wash the Bentley, and buy you a drink.”

Crowley let out a sigh and looked down as he swirled the whisky in his glass. It’s not as if he had anything better to do with his time and he was rather fond of spending time with you, not that he’d ever admit that. An uncomfortable, but not unwelcome, feeling pulled on his heart when he looked up at you to see you giving your best puppy dog eyes. “Fine! Fine,” he said exasperatedly, “but don’t complain when I beat you.”

“We’ll see about that,” you say with a cheeky grin.

A few hours later, you were waiting for Crowley to make an appearance outside The Drunken Donkey. You had returned home to get changed into something a bit more appropriate for an evening in the pub, and so it seems had Crowley. He rounded the corner and you had to try to stop your jaw from hanging open. He wore all black, which was nothing new but the turtleneck jumper? Yeah, that was new, and he looked downright sinful.

“Well don’t you scrub up nicely,” you say when he approaches you, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“Not so bad yourself,” he comments with a smirk. Your cheeks flame. “Ready to lose?”

“Oh, you’re so on.”

You both head inside and Crowley heads to find a seat in the busy pub as you approach the bar.

“What can I get for you my lovely,” the woman behind the bar said. You order yourself your favourite drink and a large Talisker for Crowley, before tapping your card and heading off to find him.  

“For you,” you say placing down the whisky in front of him. He shoots you a small smile that’s enough to make you clutch your drink a little bit tighter before sitting down opposite him. “So basically, you need to have this app to take part in the quiz, you just put your name in it and then tap the right answer. Simple! Do you need help or are you old enough to do it by yourself?”

“Oh, very funny,” he huffs pulling his phone out and situating himself. “Now remember; no crying when you lose,” he smirks at you. You just look at him as you take a sip from your drink.

“We’ll see about that,” you put your own information into your phone. “Shall we make a bet?”

“A bet with a demon Y/N? That’s a bit risky, even for you.” He gives you a wicked grin and he leans in closer. You can smell his cologne at this proximity, and it makes your palms sweat a little bit. You really do need to sort yourself out.

“Well,” you lean in, not letting the proximity to him make you nervous. “I’m feeling rather confident tonight.”

“Okay then. If I win, you have to buy me a coffee every day for the next two weeks.”

“And if I win, you have to drive me around in the Bentley for two weeks, chauffeur hat and all.” You smile sweetly holding out your hand. He grins and shakes your hand.

“Deal.”

Soon the quiz master is telling you the rules, and you feel a sense of nervousness in your stomach. Maybe this was a bad idea, he did have nearly 6,000 years of experience on you, which is an awful lot of time to listen to music. The quiz master explained that there was to be four rounds; the 1980s, the Naughties, Guess the Next Line and a round specifically dedicated to Queen. Crowley perked up when he heard the last round, he smiled smugly at his phone, thinking he had this in the bag. It would be nice to not have to pay for coffee for two weeks, he thought to himself. He takes a quick glance at you over the top of his sunglasses, seeing you slightly wiggle in your seat. Your nerves, weirdly, gave him a sense of confidence.

“Okay ladies and gents, Round One: The 1980s,” the quiz master starts. The first song plays and within the first second, you’re tapping the answer.

“What?” you say as you look up and see Crowley staring at you slightly open-mouthed.

“How did you know that so quickly? The song barely started!” he points out.

You feel your nerves start to disperse and that sense of confidence washes over you again as you shrug with a smug smile on your face getting ready for the next song. The opening notes to The Look by Roxette play as you tap again within the first few notes of the song. You start to sway along in your seat. You hear Crowley growl as you continue to get the questions right and get them right quickly.

Soon the round comes to an end and the quiz master puts the leaderboard up and you smile smugly at Crowley as you see your name at the top of the board and him close behind in second place.

“What was that about you beating me?” you grin cheekily.

“Shut up,” he grumbles “It’s only round one. Don’t get too cocky.”

You giggle at him; the host announces that they are starting round two. You shoot him a wink before looking back down at your phone getting ready to start. You miss the redness that dusts his cheeks.

After the end of the round, you find yourself at the top of the leaderboard again, but this time Crowley is only a few points behind you and getting closer.

“I’m catching up to you, Y/N,” he says smugly, “You seemed to miss a few songs there, are you slipping?”

“No,” you say confidently. “I just know the 80s better.”

“I see,” he finishes his drink. “Another?” He gestures to your now empty glass. You nod at him before he heads off to the bar. A small smile graces your lips. You rather enjoy spending time with the demon. You love spending time with Aziraphale too, but this was different. Crowley just seemed to get you and your sense of humour. He was kind, although he would never admit it. He once acquired a first edition copy of your favourite book for your birthday one year, but he brushed it off as something that anyone would do. That’s when your feelings towards him started. Something about the gesture was so heartfelt and thoughtful that you couldn’t help but fall just a little bit in love with him. You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed the drink being placed in front of you and Crowley retaking his seat.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, startling you.

“Oh sorry,” your cheeks heat again, a common occurrence around Crowley, “I was just thinking about how I can’t wait to be driven around by you for the next two weeks,” you reply cooly, not letting your thoughts get the best of you. He takes a sip of his drink and leans back in his chair, not quite believing you.

“Hmm, I wouldn’t get too comfortable Y/N,” he smirked at you.

Before you could respond, the quiz master introduced the third round. The round went by smoothly, and you were now tied with Crowley in first place, who had been slowly creeping up behind you as the round went on. You felt yourself becoming more nervous as you went into the Queen round, knowing this is something that Crowley would do well in. It really was anybody's game. The round goes by quickly and before you know it the quiz was over. You look at Crowley and he looks back at you. He seems nervous. The quiz master is soon displaying the final results and you see your name at the top of the leaderboard, one point ahead of Crowley.

“Would you look at that,” you cheer smugly, sticking your tongue out at him.

“Don’t be so juvenile,” he groans at you.

“Don’t be so sour,” you grin at him “Oh I can’t wait to have a personal driver for the next two weeks.”

“You just got lucky.”

You lean over the table, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said giving your face a once over, ever so slightly lingering on your lips.

You lean back in your seat, feeling quite proud of yourself. “You know, I think I should demand one of those special apology dances you make Aziraphale do for you.”

“Absolutely not.” He said, finishing his drink, “I don’t do the dance.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” you bring the last of your drink to your lips with a smirk.

“Shut up,” he huffs, glancing around the still-busy pub, the quiz long forgotten by everyone else in the room. The night was still young and despite him losing to you, he was rather enjoying his evening and didn’t want it to end. His gaze lands back on you as you type out something on your phone. “Do you maybe want to come back to the bookshop for one more?” he asks. He sounded nervous, as if you might reject his offer. “Aziraphale’s in Edinburgh visiting a friend, and I know he’s got some lovely vintage wine hiding somewhere.”

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot,” you smile at him, and he smiles back. He stands up and offers you a hand which you take, and you walk down the street to the bookshop.

A few moments later, you were in Aziraphale’s bookshop lounging on his sofa with Crowley. You sat cross-legged facing him, and he had an arm stretched behind the back of the sofa, sunglasses placed on the table by the door. You suggest to Crowley that you should put some music on, he snaps his fingers, and the sounds of Duran Duran filled the air. You smile at him, of course, he knows how much you loved them. It’s just the kind of demon he was, thoughtful, kind, and caring. One glass turns into two as the music continues to play in the background and you talk about this that and everything in between. He tells you tales of Rome and Athens way back when and you watch him talk. He describes everything in such a way that draws you closer to him. His hands waving around as he talks, little drops of wine occasionally falling from the glass that he never thinks to put down. He truly was a sight to behold.

“You’re staring,” he said finally placing his glass down.

“Am I?” you say blinking, you turn your head to the side.

“Hey, I never said I minded,” he said, your attention suddenly back on him. Was he flirting with you? The butterflies returned to your stomach, and you couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or the way he spoke to you. He stood suddenly; a hand stretched out towards you. “Care to dance?”

You look at his outstretched hand for a beat before a shy smile appears on your face as you gently place your hand onto his. He helps you stand and is quick to pull you close to him. You look at him and he looks at you with a small smile on his face as he snakes a hand around your waist. The music suddenly changes into the soft melody of Spandau Ballet’s True. You giggle and hide your head in his chest. Was this his doing? You look up and find him gazing at you.

“So…” you begin.

“So…”

“This is different,” you smile.

“A good different or a bad different?” he asks twirling you.

“A good different.” You say before falling into a comfortable silence. You lean your head on his shoulder and he leans his on top of yours. The two of you swayed to the music as if you were the only two people on Earth.

“I’m glad you dragged me along tonight,” he says softly, the vibration of his words running over your body.

“I’m glad I convinced you to come, even if it means I need to buy you a plant and wash the Bentley.” You laugh. He chuckles.

“Don’t bother,” he says chuckling as he lifts his head. You move your own to look at him. He really did have the most beautiful eyes.

“I guess you’re right, I did win after all.” You grin at him, removing the hand that was once in his and placing it on his chest giving him a tap, “I’m just that good.” His now free hand now found its way to the side of your face. You tilt your head, confused at the movement. His face had an unreadable expression on it. “Crowley are yo-“

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” he said almost breathlessly, as he pulled you close and kissed you. A beat passes before your eyes flutter closed and you kiss him back, the hand that was once on his chest now cupping his face bringing him even closer to you. He pulls away just enough for him to rest his forehead against yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” he whispers just loud enough for you to hear him.

“Me too,” you whisper back, “Me too.”

He grins at you before kissing you again, his lips warm and soft against yours. He pulls back, a hand still cupping the side of your face, his thumb rubbing up and down against your jaw. “Would you maybe like to go out on a date sometime?” he asks softly. You nod, a smile wide on your face.

“Yeah, I would.”

#good omens #crowley #david tennant #crowley x reader #david tennant x reader #good omens fanfiction #good omens x reader

[theewritingroomm]

Handsy

Summary: Eddie Munson has always been a handsy person. OR The three times Eddie couldn’t keep his hands to himself and the one time you made him. Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader Word Count: 2.4k Warnings: Handsy Eddie, drug use (Marijuana), groping, smut, slight fingering, choking, switch!eddie, masturbation (female), being restrained,  A/N: Reader is 18+, Edddie Munson has my whole heart. Smut may be poorly written, I haven't written anything let alone smut in a hit minute. SPOILER FREE FOR VOL. 2. Text divider by: @vecnacurse 

eighteen plus only — by choosing to ‘keep reading’, you are agreeing that you are eighteen years old and over. do not interact with this story if you are a minor.

I do NOT consent to my work being translated or published onto third party sites - including AO3 and Wattpad. 

I. Eddie always got a little clingy when he was in a bad mood…

Since the beginning of your relationship with Eddie a handful of things became certain. The first being your spot in Hellfire. Although you did not play yourself you spent every campaign perched on your own ‘throne’ next to Eddie’s 

“A queen needs her throne too.” Eddie had told you as he dragged the fluffy armchair into the drama room. And since that day, months ago, you cherished sitting next to Eddie while he DM’ed. To see him so happy and eccentric made your day every time. To see the stress and everyday bullshit melt away from your boyfriend’s face, but sometimes the torment of the week weighed too heavily on Eddie’s mind. On those days he needed you closer than what your chairs allowed. 

You knew today was going to be one of those days when you walked into the drama room. Because while the table had already been meticulously put together and sat ready for the day's game, Eddie was sitting nearly sulking on his throne. 

“Eds, are you okay?” you asked as you walked into the room. 

Eddie looked up as you spoke, allowing you to see the sadness in his eyes and the frown marring his features. 

Eddie shook his head as an answer to your question. He didn’t offer much more at the moment. Rather he held out his hand, a silent plea to have you closer. You quickly stepped towards Eddie, placing your hand gently in his. He pulled you down quickly into his lap. 

After taking a second to get comfortable you finally stilled. The moment you did Eddie took the opportunity to bury his face into the crook of your neck and allowed his hands to snake around your waist. 

“Eddie, what’s wrong?” You asked gently, running your hands through his hair. 

He sighed, his hot breath fanning your neck. Eddie placed a quick kiss there before looking up at you. “It’s just been a shitty day and Mrs. O’Donnell’s class is kicking my ass.” 

As he spoke Eddie ran his hands along your sides and over your thighs. A thing that you found he did to comfort and ground himself on the bad days. 

“I’m sorry Eds,” you spoke softly, placing a kiss to the tip of his nose. 

As your lips came in contact with his skin Eddie’s grip on your waist tightened. Effectively pulling you impossibly close to him. You stayed perched on his lap and continued to play with his hair and the threads on his denim vest as the rest of the Hellfire guys tricked into the room. You stayed there long after the game had ended, Eddie’s hand never one leaving its place on your waist. 

II. Eddie got handsy when he got high…

Saturday evenings were by far your favorite day of the week. As you often found yourself laying in Eddie’s bedroom while a mixtape he had made swirled around the smoke in the room. More times than not you would find yourself straddled across his lap while he kissed you like his life depended on it. 

However, today was showing to be a calmer day than most. One of Eddie’s softer mixtapes played throughout the room. A joint was still being passed between the two of you as you laid with your head in Eddie’s lap, the newest Stephen King novel in your hands. It was peaceful. 

But Eddie was starting to get bored. 

He passed the joint back to you and watched as you wrapped your lips around the tip and inhaled. Eddie found it nearly erotic to watch you smoke. To watch watch your eyes become heavy and a smile becomes permanently etched across your lips. He thought you looked ethereal, which spurred him on in wanting to fix his boredom. 

As you took another drag off the joint Eddie allowed his hands to trail gently over your shoulder. Stopping briefly once he got to the collar of the shirt you wore. A flannel that you had likely stolen from his closet months ago. His right hand toyed with the collar as his left hand began ghosting over the buttons that kept it closed. Eddie paused to watch your face, to gauge your reaction. Upon noticing that you haven’t looked up from your book he decided to continue. 

Eddie’s right hand traveled up and down your arm gently, feather light touches that almost don’t feel there. While he let his left hand pop open the handful of buttons that he could reach. 

With the buttons of your - his - shirt open he was able to see the curve of your breast before the edge of the shirt blocked his view. He licked his lips at the sight, wanting nothing more than to wrap his mouth around one of your pert nipples. However, in this position it was impossible. So instead, Eddie placed both of his hands gently on your shoulders before trailing them underneath the material of your shirt. 

His hands traveled over your collar bones and the swell of your breast before long fingers made quick contact with your nipples. He felt them pebble against his hands as you shivered. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, voice low and close to your ear. 

You nodded, “Your rings are just cold.” 

Eddie hummed at your revelation and allowed himself to continue. His long fingers circled your nipple softly as you continued to read. Gentle flicks and pinches continued and the words on the page became harder and harder to focus on. Until a harsh pinch to your left nipple had you gasping and pushing your chest up into your boyfriend’s hands. 

Eddie chuckled lowly in your ear before speaking. 

“Why don’t you put that book down baby girl.” He began placing hot, open mouthed kisses to your jaw and neck. 

At the low tone in Eddie’s voice you quickly tossed the book to the side. Not caring that you just lost your page. 

III. The adrenaline of a show always left Eddie riled up. 

When you had started dating Eddie the crowd of regular Corroded Coffin fans grew by one. And you were by far the loudest. Singing every song at the top of your lungs and relishing in the smile on Eddie’s face as you did. 

But Eddie always enjoyed the time after the show the most. Because once the last song ended Eddie was quickly jumping off the stage and dragging you off the bar stool that you sat perched upon all night. He would lead you to the less than secluded hallway that led to the restrooms and push you up against the wall. 

Trapped between the wall and your boyfriend, your body felt like it was on fire. The wet, hot kisses that Eddie was placing over any piece of exposed skin felt like fire in your veins. His hands pulled at your hair to open your neck up to him and grabbed at your ass underneath your skirt. His fingerprints are likely already forming bruises on the cushiony flesh. 

“Fuck baby,” Eddie groaned out as he nipped at your jaw. 

He began to push your shirt up, exposing your bra clad chest to him and anyone who decided to walk down the hallway. Not that you cared at the moment. 

“So fuckin’ sexy,” teeth sunk into subtle flesh under lace as his large hand grasped roughly at your other breast. 

You moaned loudly, arching into him. His tongue gently swiped over the teeth impressions he had left behind. Attempting to soothe the burn left behind. 

His hand abandoned your chest to slide gently up to your neck. Long fingers placed pressure on the side of your neck as he continued to assault your chest with his mouth. 

“Eddie,” you whined, the pressure he was placing on your neck leaving your head deliciously woozy. 

In an attempt to keep you quiet Eddie quickly placed his lip onto yours in a searing kiss. All tongue and teeth as the hand around your throat tightened slightly. You moaned into his mouth and tried to buck your hips against him. Wanting, no needing to alleviate the growing pressure between your thighs. 

“You getting needy baby?” Eddie teased as he felt your hips shift. “You want me to touch your pretty pussy in front of the whole bar?” 

Soft fingers left your chest and dropped to your thigh exposed by the tiny denim skirt you chose to wear. He gently skimmed them higher and higher until his hand disappeared beneath denim. 

“Gotta be a good girl baby. Gotta be quiet. You don’t want anyone to know how dirty my baby girl truly is.” 

You whined at his words, earning a pointed glare and a quick squeeze to the throat. All the while he was gently running the cool metal of his rings against the sticky lace covering your core. The cool metal is a stark contrast to the wet heat between your thighs. 

“Eddie please,” you whispered. Pleading for him to do something, to do anything. 

“Whatcha want baby girl? I can’t help you if you don’t use your big girl words.” 

Another wave of heat flooded your core at his words. 

“Touch me Eds, please. I need you to touch my pussy.” You begged, not caring if your voice traveled to the rest of the bar. 

“Good girl,” Eddie praised. He finally pushed your lace panties to the side and sank two fingers into your heat.

IV. Eddie’s favorite thing to do is touch you, but what if you don’t let him…

Sitting with Eddie on his bed was not out of the norm for your relationship. Neither was you straddling him while the two of you were in nothing but your underwear. However, the thing that was out of the norm was the pair of shiny handcuffs hanging from the tip of your finger. 

“You wanna be tied up baby?” Eddie asked from underneath you with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

You shook your head gently, watching as a quizzical look flashed across his face. You didn’t let him ask another question. Effectively silencing him as you leaned forward and grabbed his wrists in your hands. Placing them above his head you made quick work to attach the metal to his wrists. The sound of them closing echoing around the room. 

“You don’t get to touch me right now.” You spoke, a smirk pulling at your lips as you sat up. 

You felt Eddie’s cock twitch in his boxers beneath you. 

“That’s not fair baby,” Eddie nearly whined, “Who's gonna show that pretty pussy the attention she deserves?” 

You smiled sweetly at Eddie, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours. Eddie quickly tried to take control of the kiss, attempting to snake his tongue into your mouth to show you who was in charge. You swiftly pulled away from the kiss and began to trail soft kisses from the corner of his mouth, down his jaw and to the shell of his ear. 

“Me,” You answered his previously asked question, “and you have to sit there and watch. Then I’ll decide if you’ve earned the right to fuck my pussy.” 

Eddie groaned, throwing his head back into the pillows beneath him as he bucked his hips trying to alleviate the pressure in his cock. You swiftly put your weight on your knees, removing your pussy from where Eddie wanted it the most. 

You sent him one warning glare as you hopped off of the bed to remove your underwear. Once nude climbed back onto the bed and straddled Eddie’s chest. Your bare pussy was mere inches from his face. He could see how puffy and needy your clit was, how siny it was with your arousal. 

It was his favorite meal and he was being denied the chance to devour you. 

“Baby please,” Eddie pulled at the handcuffs around his wrists, “Let me touch you, I need to feel you baby.”  

You didn’t say anything to him as you trailed your hands up from their place on your thighs. Up your stomach and oh so softly over your chest, stopping only when your fingertips brushed against your nipples. Eddie’s eyes were glued to your hands as you grabbed and played with your chest. Pulling at your nipples much in the way he would, only stopping when they pebbled against your fingers. 

You trailed on hand back down your body as the other continued to circle and pull at your nipple. Eddie watched the hand that traveled back to your core. Not able to tear his eyes away from you as you dragged one finger through the wetness between your thighs. Moaning gently as you touch your clit. 

You gently circled your clit, gradually adding pressure with each pass. 

“Eddie,” You moaned, continuing to toy with your clit and chest. “Feels so good, Eds. Wish you could feel it, baby.” 

You felt your pussy clench around nothing. You know Eddie saw, sure he was going to spontaneously combust because of it. 

“Please baby, I gotta touch you.” Eddie begged, his eyes glued to your core as you slipped two fingers into your tight heat. Pumping them in time with the circles you were rubbing on your clit. 

“Eddie,” you moaned, your head thrown back and eyes shut tight. 

Eddie knew from the sounds you were making that you were close. And god did he wish he was the one pulling those sounds from you. But as he watched you fuck you own fingers he feels as if he had entered heaven. The delicious squelsh of your pussy sucking in your fingers sounded sweeter than any music Eddie had ever heard. The drip of your arousal onto his chest had his cock straining painfully against the fabric of his boxers. 

“Eds, I’m g-gonna c-cum.” you whined as you bucked into your own hand. 

“Yeah baby, come for me.” Eddie grinned wildly as you moaned, “Make a fuckin mess baby.” 

As soon as the words passed Eddie’s lips you were falling apart. Slick coated Eddie’s chest making his tattoos shiny. As you came down and your breaths evened out you giggled at the look on his face. A look of pure arousal and slight pain sat upon his face as he strained against the handcuffs on his wrists. 

Deciding that you had teased the poor guy enough you grabbed the key off of the nightstand. You quickly unlocked one wrist and went to work on the other when Eddie grabbed your waist, the cuffs still attached to one wrist. But he didn't seem to care as he flipped the two of you over. Capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss and his hands grabbed at everything within his reach. 

#eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things oneshot #stranger things x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie muson smut #stranger things 4 #st4 #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #stranger things fluff #eddie muson #hellfire club #hellfire fic

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

I submit a humble degradation kink🫢

I submit a humble drabble! :D

"On Your Knees"

Loki has caught you being a flirt. Time to pay for your sins.

Content Warning (18+ DNI): smut, degradation, some choking/gagging kink, the word 'bitch' is used, this is Dark!Loki Word Count: 400

Your head was bowed submissively as Loki walked around you in a circle. 

“You really cannot help yourself, can you?” he growled, his ominous, rolling vocal inflections sending electric chills through your skin. “Flirting with every shit-covered stable boy you come across, are you?”

You didn’t speak. You knew he didn’t want you to say anything. You kept yourself contrite, on your knees, naked before him as he’d commanded when he angrily brought you back to his room. 

“Oh, it is a little whore,” he hummed. “With the silly mind of a maid inside the body of someone who knows what to do with it.” 

Two black boots stopped in front of you. 

“Look at me while I’m talking to you, girl.” Loki warned. “I want to see you trembling.”

You widened your eyes and looked up. Your gaze received immediately with two angry, piercing blue eyes that looked ready to rip you in half with his cock. 

Not satisfied, Loki maneuvered quickly so that he was kneeling behind you, each leg on your hip, pinning you in place with his thighs while he briskly took your neck in his palm. This yanked your body against his bare, sweating chest, and forced you to look up into his face again. 

“Pathetic, I do believe even as I punish you, you enjoy it. Is this the way a princess acts? No, tsk tsk.” His hand was slightly choking your throat, just enough to keep you locked in place against him. His cock was hard enough that you could feel it pulsing against the small of your back. “I ought to put you on a leash. Seems the only way I can control a bitch is by treating her like one until she learns to behave herself.”

“Sire!” you exclaimed involuntarily. 

“Silence!” Loki commanded, slapping his free hand over your mouth, gagging you into submission again. 

“You’ve lost the privilege of standing with your head equal to mine tonight. You will crawl and creep on the floor like the lowly slut you’ve acted as. Now, you will slither over to the bed and make yourself ready for me. Perhaps if you please me tonight, I will see fit to lift your punishment at dawn.”

He paused for effect, leaning down so that your noses were touching even as his hands were still on your mouth and neck. 

“Although with the way you’ve been lately, maybe I won’t.”

Thanks for the submission! I'm trying to exercise my smut muse a bit, so ANYONE IS WELCOME TO SUBMIT KINKS FOR ME TO WRITE BLURBS ABOUT! I hope you enjoyed!

@queen-paladin @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @muddyorbsblr

@loopsisloops @lcolumbia1988 @lokisgoodgirl @glitchquake @gigglingtiggerv2

#loki #fanfiction #loki x reader #loki smut #degrading kink #light choking #dark loki

[lauraneedstochill]

I won’t fall for someone who can’t misbehave

summary: Aemond is betrothed to the sweetest girl in the Seven Kingdoms. She's smiley, soft and kind-hearted. Until she isn't. (or, alternatively: "No one took your side when you were a kid. But I'm doing it now.")

pairing: Aemond Targaryen and F!Reader (her House is not specified) words: 9000 +

warnings: slow (!) burn, attempted harassment, Aemond is in pain 70% of the time (headache and all that) and has no clue how to act around someone he's clearly in love with.

author's note: I'm working on 3 fics at the moment, and it's taking forever to finish (yay for my poor time management skills!), so I whipped up something short(er) for starters. I'm a bit more comfortable with sharing this one because I feel like it's actually more of my style (wow, that sounds kinda pretentious). Rhaenyra is the queen here but I barely mention the blacks (not out of spite, I just thought it wouldn't add anything to the story). also, I don't think women would be allowed to misbehave like that... I don't care ;)

Aemond knew of the preplanned betrothal even though everyone around him was ridiculously mysterious about the subject matter. He's been made aware of the upcoming visit of some noble family, and the preparations were quite extensive. Then he overheard Baela telling Jace that the expected guests will bring their daughter. The middle one. It wasn't very hard for Aemond to put two and two together. His wedding was long overdue, and Alicent was eager for him to make his choice. But he dreaded the mere thought of it.

Aemond's never been very good at courting women, but mostly due to the lack of trying. He's used to them looking at him with fear and suspicion as if he's some kind of wild animal ready to attack at any minute. Getting sidelong glances did hurt him growing up, but with time Aemond learned to benefit from it, using his fearsome image as a shield. No one ever dared to try and break it to see what was underneath. But now he is faced with the inevitable change that's approaching his life at the speed of a storm wave. To him, taking off the eyepatch won't be nearly as excruciating as giving into the vulnerability of letting someone in, opening up to someone. He's never been afraid of much but that? That was terrifying.

The anticipation made Aemond nervous. He knew he should probably ask around and try to gain any information about his soon-to-be wife, but it felt wrong. Not knowing felt even worse. No matter how good of a fighter he was, fighting the uncertainty seemed like a challenge. Aemond spent his nights tossing and turning, wrapped up in blankets as insomnia was clinging to his body. He tried to busy himself with training, but his usual easy victories brought him no satisfaction. He's been winning for so long maybe it was time for him to lose. Except not to his training partners but to a stranger, who in time will get a permanent place in his life.

His rides with Vhagar, which usually brought him peace, now had the opposite effect. The old dragon acted annoyed and disgruntled for no reason, huffing and grumbling at every turn as if she could sense his own frustration. You can’t tame your emotions yet I’m supposed to listen to your commands? Silly boy. If Vhagar could speak, she would probably tell him that, Aemond thought. And he blamed himself even more.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, the headache came back. As usual, it started with a feeling of pounding heaviness in the back of his head, which then spread further: into his temples, forehead and down the hateful scar. Within a couple of days, the pain gets so bad, he has to grit his teeth to keep a straight face, and he's barely able to shove a few bits of food down his throat. But it's a topic he never brings up, it's a humiliating secret that's just between him and his mother. When he lost his eye, for the first month the pain was close to unbearable. The maester kept telling him that it was caused by the healing of skin tissues and assured that the intolerable feeling would go away. It never did. His scar was something he learned to cover up, and the bright red stripe faded slightly with time, but the pain lingered. Aemond opted to think that it only contributed to him becoming more resilient, yet that argument didn't withstand the test of time. The pain receded for some short periods, but then it'd always come back, and he could never get used to that, no matter how hard he tried.

He can only hope it will get better by the time the guests arrive. But the gods seem deaf to his prayers, and the night before the event he doesn't get a wink of sleep. He goes through his day in a daze, skipping the training session to hide in the library instead, although he can't bring himself to focus and read more than a single page. When the time comes for him to walk into the dining hall, it's the last thing he wants to do but he forces himself to go. Festive ornaments, tables laden with the finest dishes, bright-colored clothing of everyone around him blend and blur into each other. He takes deep breaths and counts his steps, gathering all his strength to sit down and not wince at the movement.

All it takes is one look at him for Alicent to understand what's going on.

"Aemond," she approaches him, whispering. "What's wrong? Is it the headache again?"

Aemond doesn't want to admit it, but he lacks the energy to deny it either so he just nods. She gives him a regretful look, gently squeezing his shoulder.

"Should I call for the maester? Maybe he will be able to come up with something to ease the pain."

"I don't think we have time to fuss over me," he declines with a pain-stained voice. "I was under the impression that we're expecting someone to join us today."

Alicent sighs. She knows better than to fight his stubbornness, but she hates how helpless it makes her feel. Aemond hates that feeling, too.

"Please don't tell me you require motivation," Aegon's voice is loud as it is but right now it sounds deafening, and Aemond sharply exhales. His brother flops on a nearby chair, bringing his ignorant attitude with him.

"Undoubtedly you've interacted with women before," he chuckles, completely unaware of Aemond's suffering. "Try not to scare her with your creepy stare, and maybe she won't run away."

Alicent briefly closes her eyes in annoyance. She glances around, making sure not to attract any attention, and then grabs Aegon by the chin, forcing him to look at her.

"Enough with pestering, I need you to behave yourself," her voice is tinged with irritation. "Just for one evening. Can you do that?"

Aegon's body stiffens up, the smug look disappearing from his face.

"As you wish, mother," he mutters, and she lets go of him. Alicent shoots another glance at Aemond before leaving. Aegon gives his brother a side-eye but says nothing.

Aemond is exhausted, anxiety's bubbling in his chest, and he thinks he has a few more minutes to compose himself yet that time passes in the blink of an eye. Before he knows it, the guards at the door make the announcement, and he sees a group of unfamiliar faces. None of them are of his age, though, and for a moment that realization brings him some comfort. But then he notices a female figure in the distance as she's approaching the entrance.

When she walks in, the music goes quiet, and Aemond hears people gasping. It seems like every man in the room has his gaze on her. And she certainly is a sight for sore eyes. She moves with a gracious pace, the silky fabric of her dress flowing downward with every step. It's not too revealing, but it hugs her body in all the right places. Her hair is up, and he can see the waves of her collarbones peaking through. A half-smile is plastered on her face, but she doesn't seem to be nervous. If he was to take a guess, he would've said she was tired. But she won't let it show, keeping her head high and being seemingly unaware of the attention she got. Maybe she's used to it just like he is, Aemond thinks. Although people usually glare at him for a completely different reason.

"Someone is about to get a piece of cake," Aegon elbows him lightly, his voice low.

"Someone needs to shut up," Aemond snarls, earning a laugh from his brother. That catches her attention, and her gaze lands on Aemond. When their eyes meet, her face softens, smile growing wider. He tries his best to force a wan smile in return, but his stomach turns in discomfort. He can already imagine how people will react: a stunning woman like her with a man like him, what a tragedy. That thought stings, his anxiety growing stronger. The headache gets worse, and he tightens his grip on a cup of wine that he hasn't even tasted yet. Aemond can't help but wonder if she knew she would have to marry him. If it does bother her as much as it bothers him.

The members of her family are greeted as guests, with no mention of a possible betrothal. Her name is the only one he catches — and then silently repeats it a few times. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, the sound of it breaking through his clouded mind. She's seated next to him, as expected, and he notes that her dress compliments her eye color. Aemond is thinking of a way to start a conversation, but she beats him to it:

"You gave us such a warm welcome, but I must admit, I'm surprised by the scale of it. I hope it wasn't too much of an inconvenience?"

When her words reach his ears, the buzzing in his head stops, and Aemond turns to Y/N, astonished by his own reaction. It's not the naivety of her question, nor the friendly tone of it. It's just her voice. Melodic and mellow, it feels soothing among the loud noises they're surrounded with.

"I assure you, your family was simply welcomed with the respect you deserve," he answers pensively. His throat is sore, but he can't steel himself to take a sip of wine, afraid that it will make him sick. He wants her to speak again.

Aemond asks about her family, letting Y/N lead the conversation. She's easy to talk to and she gives just the right amount of information before jumping to another topic. At any other time, he would've really enjoyed the flow of it, yet now he is growing weary. The headache is still there, but her voice does bring him some relief. That's until she abruptly stops.

"Are you feeling alright?" she sounds worried, and the same emotion is written on her face. Aemond tries to blink away his exhaustion. 

"I apologize if I'm not exactly the best at keeping you company. It's been a long day," he knows he should've come up with a better excuse. He feels like he can hardly function at this point.

She keeps her attention on him for a few more seconds. Then Y/N moves her eyes to the other end of the table, where her family is seated. She makes eye contact with her father and gives him a big yawn. It's obviously and comically fake but it works: her family finds an excuse to leave earlier. Aemond knows that now he also got a chance to escape soon after. He feels a pang of guilt knowing that he's the reason their conversation was cut short, but Y/N doesn't make a big deal out of it.

"We shall continue on the morrow when we are both well rested," she smiles reassuringly at him before leaving.

Aemond seriously doubts that he'll get any rest as his head feels like it's gripped in an iron vise again.

The next morning he drags himself out of bed later than usual, the pain now dull but present nonetheless. He sits with his face in his hands, breathing in and out, until he's almost numb. The almost leaves a sour feeling in his mouth — or maybe it's the nausea, he doesn't know nor does he care. He's been handling this for years, he can survive another day.

Aemond decides that since he is to be wed, he should make an effort for it to work. He thinks about his duty, his mother, about Y/N, who traveled all the way to the King's Landing for a man she's never met before. Aemond thinks of everyone but himself because there's only so much he can do without draining himself completely.

He missed the breakfast already but hopes to find Y/N within the perimeter of the castle and rushes out of the bedroom. He's passing by Helaena's chambers when he hears someone laughing. And it's not his sister. Aemond debates if he can deal with kids right now, but chooses to give it a chance and quietly walks in. Helaena has embroidery in her hands but seems more focused on a sight in front of her, and he follows her gaze. Y/N is sitting on the floor with her back to the door, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera are on either side of her, their cheeks plump and pink, tiny fingers grabbing her dress. She's reading to them, and it's a tale they've heard many times before, yet the kids are listening attentively, occasionally making noises of excitement. Aemond doesn't need to speak gibberish to know that they are fascinated by the melody of her voice and the playful tone she uses to make the story more engaging. He leans on the door frame, his body relaxing at the sound. Jaehaera puts her head on Y/N's shoulder and eagerly turns the page, making her laugh again.

"You are an impatient little thing," Y/N giggles.

"That she is," Helaena agrees, and when Y/N turns to her, she is surprised to see that Aemond joined them.

"Pardon me, I didn't hear you coming in," she stands up in a hurry, both kids are instantly glued to her. "Your sister was kind enough to keep me company."

"I asked her to come by after breakfast, and they haven't left her side ever since," Helaena explains, sounding very pleased.

"Would you mind if I steal this new friend of yours?" Aemond asks while keeping his eye on Y/N, waiting for her reaction. Her face flushes but he sees no indication of discontent. Aemond grudgingly admits to himself that it brings him something akin to joy. But it fades, absorbed by his numbness.

"Make sure to be on time for dinner," his sister nods, calling for the nanny to take the kids.

It takes a little bit of persuasion but eventually Jaehaerys and Jaehaera let Y/N go, and she follows Aemond out of the room. Y/N mentions that Helaena wanted to show her the library, and Aemond agrees to take her there. Along the way, he strikes up a conversation in attempt to compensate for their last one. As she's telling him about her morning, her voice seeps into his mind like honey, and Aemond tries to concentrate to take the right turns and not trip on the stairs.

When they walk into the library, Y/N pauses, looking around in awe. This woman makes men turn around after her, yet she is so easily impressed by the simplest things, Aemond thinks. The prince wonders if she'll ever be impressed by him.

"This is where you study?" she's admiring endless rows of shelves, and Aemond gives her an affirmative "hmm".

"How many of these have you read?"

"Quiet a few," he is modest as ever, and she shoots him a curious look.

"I wonder what are your preferred subjects."

"History and philosophy," he doesn't mean to sound so terse, but whatever interactions with women he's had before, that experience obviously didn't turn him into a lady's man.

"Would you be so kind to share your favorite books with me?" when Y/N glances at him, there's a sparkle in her eyes. It looks like she's actually interested to know more, as if she does want to know him. His immediate response, however, is to distance himself, and he takes a step back.

"I'm afraid there are not enough hours in the day to name them all," Aemond opposes, hands clasped behind his back.

"Please, take pity on me, I need something to help me pass the time," she presses the matter further but does so very gently. "Name just a couple."

He gives into her pleading tone and reluctantly agrees but they don't stop at just a couple. They end up spending the day roaming in the library, lost in the labyrinth of shelves and books. She's never too pushy with her questions, she's making small jokes, she doesn't take offense at his cold demeanor. Behind his mask of feigned indifference, Aemond feels like someone is hammering at his left temple, and the pain echoes through his whole body. But he doesn't dare to leave Y/N hanging for the second day in a row.

The prince is too preoccupied with his internal struggle to notice that she's growing worried about him again, and by the time they come back for dinner, her face expresses an alarming concern.

"I must apologize if I tired you out with my relentless chatting," she says, almost whispering, when they're seated.

"You did not, no need to fret," Aemond states. I must apologize that you are to marry a man who can't curb the pain that's spilling out of him, he thinks.

Food is tasteless in his mouth. Y/N is sitting on his right, and Aemond's body can't adjust to the foreign feeling of someone being in his close proximity. He's so accustomed to being on his own, he doesn't know how to unlearn that.

Throughout the whole dinner, Aemond can feel his mother's gaze on him. Later that evening, when a maid brings him a cup filled with the milk of the poppy, he decides against taking it.

He regrets it the very next day.

When Aemond tries to lift his head off the pillow, he feels like his skull is full of rocks. They're rolling from side to side as the pain rumbles, and for a few minutes he can't hear anything else around him. That's why, when Aemond opens his eye, he's startled at the sight of his mother standing in the doorway.

"I did knock but got no response," she gives him a look that's a mix of concern and suspicion. She suspects that he's unwell again and it concerns her. He wishes she never knew of that burden of his.

Aemond moves up in his bed, clenching his jaw. He knows his mother well enough to realize she must've had a reason for this early visit. Alicent proves him right when she speaks:

"The queen went into labor a couple of hours ago."

He absentmindedly hums, not knowing how to react. His mother continues, with a hint of hesitance:

"There will be a feast when the baby is born. We thought... Rhaenyra and I, we thought it would also make for an occasion to do the announcement. About your betrothal."

Her words come as no surprise to Aemond. It is what's expected of him, it's about his duty and his responsibilities, but this time he doesn't want to think of that. He wants to be left alone, to drown in the layers of blankets, to go back to his short-lived slumber.

"The day Y/N arrived, I asked the queen to postpone the announcement. To give you some time to get to know each other," Alicent takes a few steps towards his bed. "It seems like you're getting along quite well?"

"I could think of no better woman than Y/N," Aemond admits and it is true. What he doesn't say is that he can also think of a dozen other men who would be more deserving of her, more than he is.

Alicent catches the discreet sadness in his words but doesn't know what caused it. She eyes her son with undisguised empathy.

"Her father implied that she is content with the betrothal, too. I thought you'd be happy to know," Alicent gives him a lax smile. "I shall let you go back to sleep," she adds and leaves.

Aemond knows he'll get no sleep now. He repeats the well-known routine of deep breaths with the minimum movements, scraping up the remains of his strength before leaving the room. He goes straight to Y/N's chambers, wondering if his mother visited her, too, and how that visit went.

To his surprise, Y/N is nowhere to be found. A maid informs him that she left the room a few hours ago. He can't find her in the library and she isn't in Helaena's chambers, either. He searches for her in the courtyard and then goes back to roam through the corridors, peering into every room on his way. He's lost in his thoughts until he hears Y/N calling his name. Aemond turns around — and there she is, at the other end of the hall.

"I've been looking for you," she skips towards the prince, beaming. He could never imagine anyone being this happy at the sight of him. She stops when they're only a couple of meters apart, her smile glowing.

"We must've passed each other, because I've been looking for you, too," he confesses. Y/N seems very pleased with herself though he isn't sure why.

"I think the weather calls for a walk," she blithely suggests. "Would you like to accompany me?" — as the words leave her mouth, she reaches out a hand to him. For a moment Aemond's looking at her baffled, and then hesitantly takes Y/N's hand. Her skin is soft, fingers warm, and she intertwines them with his own. That gesture comes so naturally as if they've done it before, yet Aemond clearly hasn't. The feeling of holding someone's hand is unusual to him. But it seems enjoyable.

By the time they get to the garden, Aemond finds that her hand fits perfectly in his. He's blushing profusely. He also notices that his headache receded a little and he can't help but think that Y/N was the reason for that.

"Your mother came to me this morning," she informs him as they are walking hand in hand. "I assume she talked to you, too?"

"She did," Aemond confirms. "Am I right to guess we had the same conversation?"

"Well, mine was about uniting two great Houses," Y/N mimics a man's voice, and Aemond grasps that Otto was there, too. "Your grandfather gave a very convincing speech".

"He had a lot of practice while being the Hand of the King. Maybe he misses having an audience," the prince chuckles and she laughs. Aemond holds a pause and then adds:

"Forgive me if I'm being too blunt but I wonder if the conversation was of unpleasant nature to you."

"It was not," she slows her steps. "I know what's expected of me and I will perform my duty. But if I'm being honest...," she turns to him, and the tenderness of her gaze tugs at his heart. "I am glad that it's you," Aemond feels a flare of an unknown emotion deep in his chest. "We'll make a pretty good team. Wouldn't you agree?"

Aemond lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He looks down at their hands and then back at Y/N.

"It seems so," he tells her, a slight smile in the corner of his lips. There's a moment of comfortable silence as they make a short stop in the shade of the trees.

"But I shall give you a warning," Y/N says with a mischievous grin. "My siblings take any celebration very seriously. Every single relative of ours will come to the wedding, and most of them won't shy away from enjoying a cup of wine... Or two".

"Can any of them outdrink Aegon?" he jokes, and Y/N bursts into laughter.

Aemond gets carried away by their conversation once again, losing track of time. While she's listing her relatives, adding innocuous remarks about each of them, the prince is enthralled by the warmth that radiates off her. Her presence alone calms the storm of his insecurities, lulling his fears to sleep. She does that so effortlessly, it's almost intimidating. But there's a certain thrill to it, too — the thrill of being close to her, sharing laughs and stories, and Aemond clings to that feeling.

He enjoys the moment while it lasts; until his headache predictably creeps up on him a few hours later. He can't tell if Y/N senses that something is wrong but she's the one to suggest returning to the castle. Aemond gladly accepts it.

On the way back they're greeted by one of the guards who notifies them that the queen gave birth to a girl. Y/N lightly squeezes Aemond's hand.

"Tomorrow is a big day then," — and the prince knows exactly what she means. The fragile bond that they only started to get the hang of will soon become public knowledge. It won't be their secret anymore but rather an over-discussed gossip.

"There is still time for you to plan an escape," Aemond jests half-heartedly.

Y/N looks puzzled for a second, but then shakes her head:

"Only if you're planning one. We are in this together, remember?" her thumb brushes over his. "It's all about teamwork."

Aemond savors the last fleeting minutes of their day. He barely touches the food at dinner, the pain in his head intensifying but he pushes through. When the time comes for them to part, he doesn't want to. That feeling is alien to him and the prince is clueless about its nature. But he knows that with her any misery will be bearable.

When Aemond walks into his chambers, he notices a little jar on the bed table. It's the one that the maester used to bring him the ointments in, and the prince sighs. The maester doesn't grasp the extent of the problem but occasionally would suggest a thing or two to help with the pain. They've tried using cold packs, then the warm ones, tried massaging his temples, then drinking cinnamon tea, then adding some ginger that's known as a remedy for reducing inflammation... Nothing has worked so far.

But he should make an effort.

Aemond barely glances inside the jar and tosses away a piece of paper with the instructions scribbled on it. The prince already knows it all too well: he applies a thick layer of whatever that concoction is on his scar, involuntarily wincing at the cooling sensation. It smells of herbs and feels oily but absorbs into the skin pretty fast.

For some reason, his mind goes back to his mother's words — "I thought you'd be happy to know". Aemond is unsure what happiness means. The happiest day of his life is forever chained with the worst one, smeared with blood and pain that he's been carrying through the years.

But now that he met Y/N, he questions if there's more to life than what he's been through so far.

While he is laying in bed, Aemond wonders if can consider Y/N his friend. If she will ever be more than just a friend to him.

And then, before he knows it, the prince is fast asleep.

He wakes up feeling like a new man. At first, he mistakes that feeling for the remnants of his dreams that he was enveloped with at night. He shakes off his drowsiness and looks at the ceiling, catching a glint of sunlight that seeped through the curtains. That's when Aemond realizes that the pain is gone.

He sits up, bewildered, waiting for any sign of discomfort yet nothing happens. He waits for a couple of minutes — and then for up to thirty, but his head is clear and doesn't ache at all. His eye shifts to the jar on the bed table, and Aemond makes a note to extend his gratitude to the maester later. Suddenly the upcoming festivities don't seem so torturous anymore.

He doesn't get a chance to see Y/N throughout the day as everyone is preparing for the feast. When Aemond walks into the hall of the Iron Throne, he takes in the decorated surroundings. Unlike the last time he was here, now he wants to remember every detail, knowing that this evening would be of great importance.

The room fills with people, but Aemond patiently waits for her alone. He spots Y/N the second she steps in. Her dress is violet, the material bright and luminous, and it puts her into the spotlight yet again since she's the only one wearing that color. As soon as she takes her place at the table next to Aemond, her hand finds his. He's getting used to that way too fast. It's hard not to.

The first round of toasts goes to honor Visenya, the newborn daughter of the Queen. Rhaenyra willingly tolerates the sweet talk, generous with her smiles and appreciation. At some point, when the timing seems right or maybe when her cheeks are already aching, she gives a nod to Alicent, and Aemond knows what it means. As she starts her speech, he ruefully releases Y/N's hand.

But right when they're standing up, with everyone around cheering and staring, Y/N lightly presses her body against his, and Aemond feels how tense her back is. That's when it dawns on him that she's well aware of the attention but she doesn't really like it. Instinctively, he puts his fingers on her waist, his touch respectful and delicate. She breathes out and briefly rests the back of her head against his shoulder. For a moment it feels like it's just the two of them.

That feeling doesn't go away.

Usually, he's not the one to take part in dancing, but he does so for her. Aemond feels out of practice and he can't tell if that's what makes his head spin or if he's getting tipsy from the intimacy of their dance. Her moves are elegant, well-rehearsed, her body follows the rhythm of the music with ease. He doesn't remember when was the last time that silly activity brought him so much elation. Did it ever?

Time flows by in a blur, and they eventually take a pause after going into a fit of giggles at the sight of Lord Velaryon trying to improvise a move and failing, only to amuse his loving wife. Y/N suggests going out for a while and Aemond is keen on following her but then his mother catches up to them, her hand and her gaze are on him in an instant, pulling him away.

"Aemond, you've been dancing," she can't hide her bewilderment, a timid smile on her face.

"Should I not? Seems like a suitable occasion," Aemond chaffs with a tilt of his head.

"It is, indeed," she doesn't let him go just yet, and he discerns the hidden meaning of her words, the apprehension she fails to conceal. Aemond wants to grant her some respite, at least for the rest of the day, so he tells her with plain-spoken sincerity:

"I can assure you, this isn't a cause for your distress."

But then he quickly finds a cause for his when he doesn't see Y/N around. He goes searching for her in the crowd, then leaves the room altogether, coming out into the hallway.

Aemond hears her before he sees her — and she isn't alone. It takes no effort to recognize the second voice, which belongs to no other than Jason Lannister. As the prince rounds the corner, they come into sight, and Aemond has a very bad feeling.

He missed the start of their dialogue, and the look on Y/N's face is unreadable. She's oblivious to Aemond's presence and he decides to watch them. He tells himself that he'll never allow her to get into trouble. There is something very tempting in having a chance to save her from anything; as if he feels the need to prove himself to her. He tries not to entertain that thought.

"... It's not too late to change that, don't you think," Ser Lannister purrs, his tone sickly sweet but arrogant.

"It is. Which I have no regrets about, ser", when Y/N talks to him there's not a hint of friendliness in her voice.

"Your approach may be short-sighted. The proposition of mine wasn't of a frivolous kind," he's circling her, the manner of his movement is borderline predatory.

"I believe you will soon find a lady to welcome your advances but I would very much prefer to drop this conversation," she recapitulates.

Aemond tenses up, feeling like this is the moment for him to step in. Then he looks at Y/N and realizes that something is off. Her face expression changes — but it's not a look of fear. By the rising of her chest, he detects that her breathing sped up, eyes are shooting daggers at the man in front of her. She's looking, for the lack of a better word, positively furious.

But Ser Lannister, apparently, is not very good at reading signs as he comes improperly close to her.

"I can be very persuasive," his fingers fall on her back — and then go lower. "I think you should appreciate the attention while I'm this generous and..."

He doesn't finish his sentence. In about two seconds his face is suddenly slammed into the nearby wall, the hand he put on her is now twisted behind his back. Y/N uses her free hand to push right between his shoulder blades, pressing him into the stony surface.

To say that Aemond is shocked would be an understatement.

Right at this moment, she looks like a different person. This side of her he's not acquainted with but it only adds to her appeal. The change is barely perceptible: she's still maintaining her posture, keeping up the face of a woman who knows her worth. But Aemond catches a flaming spark of defiance that threatens to shutter her restraint. He can sense her anger from far away despite her doing her best to contain it.

"I do not know what kind of attention you are used to, but you're forgetting your manners. Next time you dare lay your hand on me, I will not hesitate to break it," her voice doesn't lose its usual softness, but now has an added layer to it. It sounds sharper, bolder. It sounds like she's not afraid of anything.

Y/N lets Ser Lannister go, taking a few steps back and smoothing her dress. He's frozen at first, but then slowly turns to her.

"You didn't... You did not just do that," there's a visible red mark on his cheek that will undoubtedly turn into a bruise.

"Did what, ser?" her tone is laced with coldness.

The man looks at her in disbelief, his face is a parade of emotions — from shock to annoyance to anger.

"You will not get away with this," he scowls, nettled.

"You're telling me that you're considering letting everyone know you were overpowered by a woman? Sounds hard to believe," Y/N seems unfazed.

His mouth opens and closes a few times before he roars:

"You, insidious wre...!"

This time Aemond is the one to interrupt the man:

"I suggest you watch your tone when speaking to my betrothed," Y/N flinches at his voice, turning to face him, and Aemond slackens his pace a little.

"Shouldn't she watch hers? She's talking to a lord," Ser Lannister exclaims lamely, his arrogance instantly toned down a notch.

"And I see no wrongdoing on her part. Care to explain what got you into this situation?"

"It was a... a simple misunderstanding," his excuse is so pathetic that it makes the prince sneer.

"And what was the matter in question?" Aemond comes closer to the man which makes ser Lannister evidently uncomfortable. He carefully contemplates his next move.

"I only wanted to extend my congratulations on her betrothal," the man fakes a smile. "Mayhaps I expressed myself poorly".

"You should opt to choose your words more wisely next time," Aemond looks down on him. "Perhaps you are needed somewhere else?"

"I shall rejoin the celebration then," ser Lannister eagerly agrees and bows out way too quickly.

Aemond can barely wait for the man to get out of sight before turning to Y/N. Even though the prince witnessed the whole thing, he can't stop himself from asking:

"Did he harm you?"

"He didn't get a chance," she mumbles, avoiding his gaze. She looks so embarrassed, he wants to offer her some comfort but isn't sure how.

"Dare I say we've got enough interactions for one evening?" Aemond tries to lighten the mood yet she only offers him a half-hearted smile.

"I'll escort you to your chambers," the prince suggests, and before she can argue he adds: "I know you can stand up for yourself if needed. But I insist."

Y/N doesn't move an inch.

"...You are not mad at me?" she's looking at him with doe-eyed sincerity, clearly upset. Aemond is mad at himself.

"I'm thinking about cutting his arm off," he says under his breath, but she catches it.

"Aemond, there's no need!" Y/N gasps and he sees a glimpse of a smile on her lips.

"I will have to disagree," he starts but then she grasps his elbow and Aemond's hand — finally — clings to her again.

"I don't want you to get in trouble because of me," Y/N confesses. 

"And I don't want you to get hurt," his fingers caress her arm through the lace material. Y/N's cheeks heat up and Aemond finds it adorable.

"I think I... I was the one who did some damage," she complains.

"You must imagine my surprise," Aemond drawls, teasing.

"Oh, Gods," a quiet groan leaves her mouth. "That was not very ladylike of me."

Y/N covers her face with the other hand, her grip on his arm loosening. Aemond dithers before gently brushing her palm away from her face.

"You did the right thing and you have nothing to be ashamed of," he enunciates each word. "He only sets an example of unseemly behavior."

"I'm afraid I wasn't too far off," Y/N remarks, her voice relenting.

"Hmm, you're certainly not to be truffled with," he retorts, earning a faint laugh from her as they start walking, arm in arm.

"May I inquire how did you... master that very handy skill?" Aemond ventures to ask. That image of her — brave and unapologetic in her anger — will be forever engraved in his memory. Aemond is apprehensive about voicing his curiosity, uncertain of her reaction but when she answers:

"My father taught me that," her tone is surprisingly impish.

"And how did you manage to talk him into it?"

"Talking didn't help much, actually," Y/N grins. "And then I broke my brother's nose and my father decided he should find a way to guide my enthusiasm."

"How old were you?"

"Nine," she looks so satisfied with herself, Aemond can't hold back the laugh.

Y/N joins him and they fall into the comfort of each other's company. But then her smile wilts.

"There was a time when I was the youngest child and my siblings... They weren't very nice back then," she blurts out. Aemond feels his heart sinking.

"What did they do?"

"Oh, it wasn't that bad, honestly, they were only teasing. It's just um," she's looking for the right words or maybe for an acceptable explanation, but there isn't any. "It was very tiresome mostly. I could never understand the reason for them being mean."

Aemond is yet to tell her the story of him losing his eye, and the memory pops back into his head in a flash. He knows exactly what she feels, his own sense of helplessness fresh in his memory. And it still stings the same, and Aemond loathes that.

While he revisits the past, unwillingly slowing his pace, Y/N spots the change in his demeanor within seconds. She sees his facial features congealing, his fingers clenching, and she comes to the only conclusion she can make.

"Is it the headache?" her voice is suddenly quiet, and Aemond comes to an abrupt stop. The question catches him off guard, words stuck in his throat and his mouth agape. He doesn't know how to react nor does he understand how could she possibly know that. Y/N is quick to clear up his confusion:

"I noticed not long after we met and then your mother confirmed my suspicions. I am sorry that I didn't ask you directly, I thought... I didn't want to sound intrusive," she explains coyly.

"By asking about my health?" he finds his voice again. "I am to become your husband, you are free to ask such questions."

"We've only known each other for about a day back then. Surely, you're allowed to take more time than that to open up to someone," she kindly points out.

A day. Up until now the only person who's known about his pain was his mother, and for years no one else ever questioned his well-being. And it took her a day to notice that something was wrong.

"Did the ointment help?" she asks hopefully. For a second he thinks he heard her wrong but the shadow of concern on Y/N's face tells him otherwise.

"That was your doing?" he can't hide his amazement, and it elicits a laugh from her, sonorous and dulcet. Aemond likes the sound of it, he really does.

"I've been fortunate to obtain the knowledge required," she informs him.

"And what kind of witchcraft is it?"

"It is not," she playfully elbows him. "It was something my grandfather taught me. He used to have an ache of a similar nature. No one could understand the cause of it, and it only got worse with age. But my grandmother refused to sit idly by and one day she found a way to ease his pain," Y/N has a dreamy expression on her face but it melts into a wistful one. He guesses that both of her grandparents passed away.

"After her death, he wouldn't let anyone help him. It took me months to persuade him and eventually he let me on her secret," her smile is bittersweet. "Then he died, and I never thought the recipe would come in handy ever again."

Aemond hates seeing her wallow in sadness. He puts his palm on top of her hand in an attempt to offer some consolation. If there was a way to free her of that grief, to take at least some of it upon himself, he would've done it in a heartbeat. But his touch is enough to bring back the cheerfulness in her voice.

"I should mention that your maester did help, too, although he was reluctant at first," Y/N reveals.

"And I presume that it also took some convincing?" Aemond thinks of the maester's face that always looks like he is surrounded by imbeciles.

"I shamelessly boosted his ego," she wrinkles her nose. "Told him there was no way anyone would ever be as skilled as he is, and that my attempt was merely a gesture of goodwill."

"But I wasn't just that," Aemond cordially protests.

They already reached her chambers but he doesn't want to let go of her hand. He wants to tell her that meeting her was like taking a breath of fresh air after being held underwater, like finding a source of light in the pitch darkness of the night or feeling the warmth in the dead of winter. Aemond wants her to know that she's been a saving grace for him, but he's somehow at a loss for words, his thoughts jumbling together.

"It was way more than that and I...," never in his life had he gotten this tongue-tied and flustered. Yet she treats him with the same kindness and with no sign of prejudice, listening closely and keeping her eyes on him. Her gaze is disarming enough to make him say the first thing that comes to mind.

"I must admit, you exceeded my expectations," Aemond breathes out.

It immediately feels like the worst, the dullest choice of words possible, and he wants to sink into the ground right this second. But then he sees her natural smile, genuine and bright, blossoming on her face again.

"I am glad to be of service, my prince," she murmurs the last part, and his heart skips a bit.

He didn't register the moment Y/N came a bit closer, but she isn't shying away from shortening the distance. There's something enamoring about her trusting nature but that's not what draws him in. For the first time, he experiences an unfamiliar feeling that tightens his chest, makes his breathing rapid. His gaze slips over her face, down from her radiant eyes to her smile, framed by the lips that look as soft as freshly bloomed flowers. The feeling melts into an urge — he only needs to take a step, to lean his head forward just a bit and...

Aemond inhales deeply. He thinks they are in no rush, he thinks it would've been disrespectful and naive. He's mostly afraid to misread the situation, to scare her away.

But he wants to make his intentions clear. Aemond runs his thumb over her knuckles, brushing them one by one. And then he takes her hand to his lips, planting a kiss on it. He allows himself just this flicker of bravery before straightening up and releasing her hand. When he looks at Y/N, her gaze is directed at him already. It feels like a particular question is hanging in the air; they let it dissolve for now.

"I shall bid you goodnight," her eyes linger on him for a second before she turns away.

As Aemond watches her go, he is certain he wants them to be more than just friends.

Lucerys's name day comes in a about month, and by that time Aemond's routine has changed drastically. It might look the same: he wakes up with the sun, flies with Vhagar, he trains regularly, he spends his free time reading — except now Y/N is a part of his every activity.

She's never nosy or clingy; he's the one seeking her company at all times. She's an early riser, too, and they're always the first ones at the breakfast table: he asks her about her dreams, they make plans, they poke fun at Aegon, who is perpetually sleepy, and Y/N can effortlessly hold any other conversation with his family which only makes him ever so pleased.

She watches him train with genuine curiosity, she never looks away nor flinches, even when he gets too competitive and rough. Her attention is flattering — and it's all on him, and it feels unusual at first, but becomes empowering and he bathes in it.

When he takes her to meet Vhagar, she's terribly nervous. Aemond jokes that meeting his old dragon will pose no challenge after she handled Ser Lannister. It gives Y/N enough confidence to pat Vhagar's snout as the beast observes her calmly. Aemond assures her that the dragon will never go against his wishes. What he wants to say is that Vhagar senses how he feels about her.

They spend evenings in the library, both absorbed in reading but always sitting close by, their arms and shoulders coming into contact more often than not. He sometimes can't help but get distracted which leads to him forgetting about his book, instead secretly watching her, his glance full of adoration.

For a while, he's oblivious to how inseparable they've become until Helaena tells him one day, while Y/N is playing with Jaehaerys and Jaehaera in his sister's chambers. When Helaena mentions it ever so nonchalantly — "You two seem joined at the hip!", it startles him. But that moment doesn't turn into an awkward one — instead, Aemond realizes that he's not scared anymore.

"I will steal her away from time to time," Helaena says, as cheery as ever.

"Bold of you to assume I will let you," he chuckles, his gaze not leaving Y/N.

"I think she’ll have the last word," his sister retorts with a cunning smile.

Aemond doesn't think twice before admitting:

"She will never say no."

"My point exactly."

The Queen plans a great hunt to celebrate her secondborn son, and a feast is being held in no time. Aemond detests those pompous events yet Y/N seems too enthusiastic about the idea, and he begrudgingly agrees to participate. He doesn't want to burden her with his weighted resentment toward Luke but, as usual, she sees right through him. Y/N asks him if he has any reservations about the upcoming celebration, and that's when he decides to tell her. Aemond doesn't want her to pity him nor does he want to upset her so he keeps the story brief: he claimed the dragon, his siblings didn't like it, things escalated way too quickly and they haven't been on good terms ever since. 

She heeds his every word, then bluntly asks:

"Must you really go?"

He ponders before answering with a sigh:

"It would be rude not to. I should pay my respect."

"I wish he had the courtesy to do the same for you," she frowns.

"It would be a little too late for an apology," Aemond shrugs even though her caring tone moves him deeply.

"I still think you deserve one," she says like it's the most obvious, logical thing in the world. He wonders how obvious the reddening of his cheeks is.

"I do not wish to dwell in the past when so many great things lay ahead of me," and he only means her. Having a future with her is his greatest blessing.

She bestows him with her softest smile:

"I guess we should make the best out of the situation we are in. Maybe you will have some fun hunting."

Aemond doesn't know what was her definition of fun, but his definitely doesn't involve babysitting Aegon. Yet that's what he ends up doing as they get separated from the group of hunters and his brother gets so drunk, he can barely stay in the saddle. He babbles and whines and Aemond is on the verge of praying for a miracle when the two of them finally stumble upon a boar. The younger prince catches the animal without a struggle.

"Oh, must be good to be a boar. Wild and free!" Aegon grumbles on their way back to the camp.

"I just slit his throat. I doubt you would want to switch places with him."

"I didn't say I want to switch places," he shakes his head so vigorously, he almost falls down. Aemond moves his horse closer, grabbing Aegon by the shoulder to steady him.

"Although switching places with you sounds tempting," he sneers.

"And why would you ever want that?" Aemond raised his brow questioningly.

"You've got yourself a pretty wife-to-be," Aegon chants and whistles.

"Are you asking for me to tie you to that boar? That can be arranged," Aemond deadpans.

" 'tis won't be necessary," Aegon's quick to object. "Whatever she sees in you, those qualities are not in my possession," his frown turns into a grin and he winks at his brother.

Aemond lightly chuckles:

"You'll get no argument from me."

Leaving Y/N is not an easy task for Aemond but coming back to her might be the second-best thing in the entire world. And the first one, obviously, is being with her.

When they return to the camp, he helps Aegon down, impatiently looking around, and as his eye lands on her, his breathing hitches.

She's standing next to the hunting tent, surrounded by a group of ladies, Helaena by her side and they're both laughing as his sister unsuccessfully tries to finish her sentence. Y/N has a violet in her hair, strands of it falling down her shoulders, her smile bright against the fading evening sun. She helps Helaena to articulate whatever she's talking about, the ladies around them cackling.

Aemond admires his betrothed from afar, savoring the moment.

It amuses him that her softness is a choice, that she chooses to be open-minded and kind, even though the world around her is armed to the teeth, and she does know how to fight back. And yet, that's not what motivates her. Instead, she's an image of benevolence and generosity, always understanding and forgiving, hence why people are so naturally drawn to her. And he is no exception.

Aemond gets distracted when a couple of servants approach him and he instructs them to take the boar's carcass away.

"You had a successful hunt, dear prince," when Aemond hears the question, he rolls his eye. Turning around, he sees Tyland Lannister with a smile so forged his face might crack in half.

"As usual," Aemond answers indifferently. "Never took you for a hunter."

"I cannot appreciate cruelty," Lannister forces out. "And I am afraid I will not be able to negotiate my way out of a bear's grip. So I am here merely to control my brother's primal impulses."

The mentioning of Jason makes Aemond cautious.

"Developing some self-control may be beneficial for him," the prince mutters.

Tyland goes blanch white, taking the hint.

"I was wondering if I should address the delicate issue of my brother's sympathy toward your..."

"You should not," Aemond cuts him off. "Would be better to address his manners but it's the thing you must sort out amongst yourselves," with that, he turns away to find Y/N again.

Except she isn't there.

The ladies moved closer to the tent but she and Helaena are the only ones missing. It takes him a second to realize that the women look alarmed, glancing at the tent. Or rather inside of it.

Aemond all but runs there, going over the worst scenarios in his head. When he gets in and sees Y/N in the company of Ser Lannister, he thinks he's never been angrier in his life. If Aemond was a dragon, the lord would've been burned to a pulp as of right now.

Jason keeps his distance and his face expresses nothing but regret yet it looks like it's already too late as Y/N is glaring at him with a sharp glint in her eyes. And in the next moment, she loses her temper.

"...What am I missing exactly?" she asks Jason, her voice unexpectedly loud, and it draws the attention of some nearby men. She doesn't care.

"You've been eager to win me over, but I am yet to find a single reason why would any woman find your company endearing," she takes a step toward the lord and he shrivels under the weight of her words.

"Is it the winery that your servants built for you? Is it your herd of fine horses? You talk so much about your stable, one may think your betrothed is to marry a stallion," her smile is mirthless. Aemond hears a faint groan behind his back and recognizes Tyland's scared tone.

"But what are your accomplishments?" the tent gets deadly quiet as she continues. "Do you consider your persevering courtship to be one of them? Or your harassing of my parents, my relatives and even my maids with your never-ending propositions, no matter how many times were they all rejected? Or mayhaps ambushing me in the hallway counts as an achievement for you?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Aemond sees Helaena and Aegon, both looking stunned. Pretty much everyone around him has the same expression at the sight of Y/N. He, on the other hand, has never been more proud of anyone.

Y/N looks at Jason as if she wants to bore a hole in him, her voice getting lower but harsher.

"You want to know what prince Aemond did? None of the above," Aemond feels his heart freeze at the mention of his name. She is yet to see him but when she speaks, it feels like she's seen enough.

"The man I am about to marry has been nothing but kind, respectful and loving, fulfilling my every wish, granting me the comfort of his company and his loyalty. The man with the sharpest mind and the kindest heart — both of which you're clearly lacking," Y/N casts Jason a disdainful glance. "So from where I am standing, it looks like I'm the luckiest woman in the Seven Kingdoms."

When she feels a hand on her waist, she isn't surprised and welcomes the touch with no hesitation, knowing full well who is standing beside her. She swiftly turns to Aemond, their eyes locking.

"I would like it if we left earlier, my prince."

"As you wish," Aemond wishes he could marry her right now.

Disregarding everyone's attention, he leads her out and asks the coachman to fetch their carriage. When they are away from prying eyes, her confidence wavers a little. It only fuels Aemond's ire.

"Give me just a second," he can't help himself.

Aemond goes back to the tent — and right to the Lannisters, one of them is already scolding the other. Tyland stops his lecturing when he notices Aemond, but the prince doesn't let him make a sound.

"That was the second time your brother couldn't hold his tongue," Aemond ignores Jason and walks up close to the other man. "If you care about his well-being in the slightest, make sure there will be no third time."

"Aemond, let us not make another scene. You must think how that will look like..."

Aemond stares Tyland dead in the eyes and promises:

"I will gut him like a boar. Imagine how that will look like."

Without saying another word, the prince storms off.

Y/N already got into the carriage, fidgeting with the hem of the dress as she falls deep into her thoughts.

"Ser Lannister will not bother you anymore," Aemond says, sitting next to her.

"I sure hope so," she mumbles, looking down at the wrinkled fabric.

"Y/N, whatever he said, you should not let it get to you. I do appreciate the gesture," way more than he cares to admit, "but there's no need to go through the trouble of standing up for me," Aemond barely finishes the sentence when she retorts:

"I will."

She looks at him, her eyes burning with blazing certainty.

"No one took your side when you were a kid. But I'm doing it now," she states as her palm covers his, the touch is as warming as her glance.

Aemond thinks he is the luckiest man in the Seven Kingdoms.

He runs out of luck so fast, he must've jinxed it. They are nearing the castle when the pain on the back of his head stings so unexpectedly, he winces, his eyebrows furrowing. Y/N notices it immediately and insists he should take a rest when they arrive.

"Mayhaps you have some of the ointment left?" she wonders, leading him to his chambers. Aemond rarely allows people to coddle him but he accepts her care freely. He is also aware that the near-miraculous balm that she makes is long gone because he hasn't had a headache in a while.

When Y/N finds out, she looks devastated.

"It must steep for a few hours, I can't make it right away," her enthusiasm brittles. She glances at him in a dither, mulling over something, while he lights the fireplace.

"There is another way that I know of," she slowly suggests. "But you will need to lie down."

"Quite a vulnerable position you want to put me in," Aemond lightheartedly jests but brings himself at her disposal with no second thoughts.

She sits on his bed right next to him, the bend of her hips an inch away from his arm.

"Close your eye," she asks calmly and he obliges.

Aemond senses that Y/N leans over him and he struggles not to hold his breath at the realization of how close she is. Then he feels the tips of her fingers on his face, the touch is so light and gentle, it makes him shiver. The pattern of her movements first contours his face, then goes up to his forehead, then slowly glides onto his temples. She massages them delicately in a circular motion.

"It was probably all the noise that caused this," she presumes.

"Or maybe the fact that the man makes my blood boil," Aemond says, although his anger is completely gone by now.

"He is pissed I didn't choose him," she laughs quietly.

"Choose him?" her words peak his interest. "You had a choice in the matter?"

"My father said he would hate it if I marry someone I didn't like," her thumbs are following the lines of his cheekbones, then run under his chin, then all the way up to his hairline, right next to his ears.

"May I ask what was your decision process?" Aemond selects his words very carefully. What he really wants to ask is why would anyone pick him, out of all people.

"I've heard you claimed the biggest dragon in the world at the age of ten," he can't see her smile but he can hear it. "That was impressive enough."

Aemond takes a peek at her through his lashes:

"That can't be the only thing you've heard."

"I can distinguish valuable information from pointless rumors," she notes imperturbably.

"I bet those rumors included the stories of me being the scariest man in the realm..."

Her fingers cover his mouth and he stumbles.

"I decided I would be the judge of that," Y/N says firmly.

"And what is your verdict?" he can't stop himself from asking, his pulse speeding up.

She doesn't think for a second:

"All the people who were spreading those vile tales clearly have never met you. There isn't a single bad thing I can think of when it comes to you."

Aemond shouldn't take it to heart but that's precisely where it hits, her voice cracking his shield, her eyes telling him she will never regret knowing him, caring for him. He thinks this is what true happiness is — being with someone who will choose you every time.

Her fingers graze over the strip of his eyepatch and she pauses her movement. She isn't breaking eye contact, waiting for his reaction, for his permission or refusal. Aemond gulps, helpless under her gaze, and doesn't stop her.

She picks up the leather strip slowly, as if she wants to give him a chance to change his mind. Aemond watches her, his body still, heart rate booming in his ears. Y/N removes the eyepatch and looks straight at the sapphire that gleams brightly in the warm lighting. And then she smiles.

"What do you see?" he exhales.

"Nothing scary, that's for sure," Y/N's gaze doesn't leave his face, her index finger tracing the scar, barely touching his skin.

"Nothing I don't admire," her voice is a little above a whisper.

"Nothing I wouldn't love."

His heart is beating so fast, it feels caged and ready to jump out at any second. Aemond forgets about the headache as if it never existed. In this state of bliss, he contemplates making a very emotional decision. But she makes one instead.

Y/N lowers her face closer to his and all of a sudden he feels a touch so light, it's almost like a petal brushes over his skin. It's her lips. She kisses his face — his scar — moving tenderly from the high point of his cheek to the area under the sapphire and then right above what's left of his eyelid.

When their eyes meet again, Aemond can only think of one thing.

He surges upward, his lips colliding with hers — she responds in an instant. His chest feels like it's on fire as kissing her is the most overwhelming feeling in the world, but he doesn't want to stop, ever. Her fingers gently slide down to his neck and Aemond uses his arm for support as he sits up without breaking the kiss. He then pulls her closer, one of his hands on her lower back and the other nestled under her jaw.

She softly sighs into his mouth — and it might be his new favorite sound. She tastes like berries, her lips getting more eager, fiery, addictive, and he is dizzy with joy and longing, trying to memorize each second. The pacing of the kiss grows heated and intoxicating as they melt into each other perfectly. They only part when both are out of air, their lips tingling, swollen and craving to continue.

"I must admit," she tries to catch her breath, she can't stop smiling, her hands caressing his face, "you exceeded my expectations."

Aemond laughs, cheerful and carefree, his nose bumping into hers.

"It's all about teamwork, as I've heard," he plants a quick peck on the corner of her mouth — and on the other one. And then they're kissing again, desperately drawn to each other. He's lost in the sound of her voice, in the feeling of her lips on his.

His love for her is all-consuming. Her love for him is healing.

Turns out, letting her in doesn't make him lose. With her by his side, he always feels like a winner.

English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

> the title is a quote from Hozier's song

>> I originally took inspiration from this post that lists the possible consequences of losing an eye. I also can't help but mention the extensive research that @ adderess did, which only adds to that heartbreaking yet very realistic concept.

>>> I have a playlist for Aemond 🎵 I didn't add any music in this fic BUT I've listened to "Mr Sandman" a lot, especially the instrumental version (I didn't mention it earlier in case you don't like listening to music while reading). 💕 my masterlist

#aemond targaryen fanfic #I hardly believe anyone will read ALL that but I'm giving it a go #LISTEN my other fic is about Aemond getting his ass kicked #and there's lots of blood and family drama #so I wanted to start with smth light okay??? #is he *too soft*? well not when it comes to the Lannisters lmao #but pls let the man be soft for once #also my mental health needed a break from describing fights and torture so here we go #ALSO will I ever stop writing female characters who can stand up for themselves? probably not #hotd fanfiction #my stuff #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfics #aemond targaryen fics #aemond one eye x y/n #aemond targaryen hotd #hotd fics #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfics #aemond targaryen

[somanyratsinthewalls]

omg I am a SUCKER for the one bed trope 😭 with sanji, please? 🙏����

congrats on 300 followers!! 🎉 you deserve it all and more! 💕

S A M E ! I'm such a loser it's my FAVORITE TROPE!

Pairing: Sanji x afab!reader

WC: 15000

Prompt: "We aren't sharing a bed. I'll sleep on the floor."

Pairing: Sanji x Afab!Reader

Prompt: “We aren’t sharing a bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.” 

— — 

*wheeze*

“No, no please! Tell me again, HOW exactly you beat that sea king?” You laugh out while you clutch your beer to your chest on your barstool. 

“See this? It’s a very special exploding star! And you just-“ Usopp grabs a small bundle out of his satchel and moves to show you while you wipe tears from your eyes. 

“Wait I thought I slammed the thing and we ate it for dinner last night?” Your sweet, naive captain chimes in as he over hears your conversation with sniper at the end of the bar. 

“No, you’re remembering it wrong!” Usopp crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. You take another sip of your drink and snort. Another voice booms from the other end of the bar. 

“You had the rest of the beast for lunch, and yes, Luffy punched it in the face.” Sanji slurped the rest of his red wine and placed his glass on the bar top. 

“Well, if your stomach isn’t growling, we have our answer then?” You held back your giggles over the top of your beer glass as you looked at Usopp. 

The rest of your crew surrounding you at the bar laughed. 

— — 

“You’re a fucking idiot you want to put Maldon salt in an apple pie?! Get off your fucking high horse!” You slurred your words as your pointed your beer bottle in Sanji’s chest.

“Mon cherie, I am not arguing with you tonight about the integrity of a pie crust.” Sanji smiles as he takes your hand on your beer in his and lowers it back down to the bar at your side. The rest of your crew had retreated to their rooms at the inn you had all chosen to stay at for the night… minus you, Sanji and Zoro. 

“Holy shit… you guys are like… so boring?… woah…” Zoro claimed from his horizontal position on several barstools next to yours. You and Sanji were drawn out of your conversation and looked down at the blacked out swordsman. 

“We should leave him here, right?” You smirked up at the blonde man in front of you. 

“Obviously.” Sanji smiled as he reached out to grab your hand and helped you down from your tall bar stool. He leads you towards the innkeeper’s desk with your hand still in his. 

“We’re part of the Straw Hats. We’d like our room keys, please.” Sanji politely says to the innkeeper. 

The innkeeper shuffles through a large, leather bound book of reservations and stops on a certain page. “I-..I’m sorry sir bit it seems we only have one room left available.” The nervous innkeeper sputters out, afraid to offend a group of such powerful pirates. 

“What? You’re telling me that you can’t-“ Sanji begins to become upset. 

“That’s fine.” You interject. “No need to make a fuss.” You assumed it would be a typical room with twin beds and a couch. You and Sanji could sleep easily and if Zoro got his shit together he could end up on the sofa. You didn’t feel like fighting an elderly innkeeper in order just to have a private room to yourself. You were a pirate, there were much bigger issues in the grand scheme of things. 

The innkeeper gave you a thankful smile and gave you the key to your room. You and Sanji head up the wooden stairs and arrive at the door of your room. Number 17. You turn the key in the lock and enter the candle lit hotel room. To your dismay there was one queen sized bed and no other large furniture in the room other than a bear skin rug. 

You and Sanji stood in the doorway of your newly minted hotel room. 

“Shit.” The both of you said together. 

“We aren’t sharing a bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.” Sanji immediately retorts as he enters the room and begins stripping himself of his suit jacket. He takes it off and drapes it over the chair in the entryway of the room.

“Oh…. Uh… Ok…. I’ll get ready for bed then…” You head into the ensuite bathroom and prepare yourself for bed. You strip yourself to your panties, and take off your bra underneath your shirt after washing your face and brushing your teeth. After getting ready for bed, you exit the bathroom and quickly slide your body under the covers of the bed. Sanji awkwardly and wordlessly slides past you into the bathroom and you hear the shower start to run. 

In the darkness of of the bedroom you lay back on the bed. You were just a bit drunk, you felt your head buzz as it hit the softness of your pillow. You listened to the sounds of the shower and couldn’t help but think about how close Sanji was to you, completely naked. Your mind wandered… You thought about how his blonde hair might plaster his forehead under the shower stream… you thought about how the soap would foam and drip down his toned abs… You felt yourself start to become wet… you slipped off your panties and discarded them somewhere underneath the covers. 

Your right hand slid under the sheets and crept towards your cunt. Your delicate fingers began to circle your clit just the way you know you like and you breathed out in pleasure. You find yourself becoming lost in the pleasure when you hear the bathroom door swing open. 

“Y/n?” Sanji emerged from the bathroom clad in just a towel wrapped around his waist. 

“Oh! Sanji! Sorry I was… distracted….” You curl the covers up under your chin. 

Sanji stands at the foot of the bed, seemingly assessing the situation in front of him. 

“Y/n… were you… touching yourself?” Sanji cocks his head and asks you while standing over you. 

“I… I was…” You sheepishly looked down at the top of the comforter, too embarrassed to make eye contact even in your drunken state. “Can we just forget about this?” You lifted your head. 

“Y/n… I could… help… if you want? I mean… you probably didn’t finish… right?” Sanji met your gaze.

Your stare met his and your mind went through a laundry list of better ideas before you settled on the act you chose to take next. You lifted your shirt over your head and leaned up towards Sanji and placed a chase kiss on his lips. Fully naked you pulled back from him. 

“Fuck me, Sanji.” You whispered with his head in your hands. 

At the speed of light, Sanji shed the towel and landed on top of you again. He smashes his lips into yours with a hunger you had never experienced. He pressed his tongue fervently into your mouth, like you’d never give him this opportunity again. You felt the velvet tip of his cock brush against your hot sex. 

“Let me just put it in… please, y/n?” Sanji moves his lips to mewl into your neck as he nips and sucks at your nape. He begs you so cutely and desperately while he grinds his hard cock into your wet center, there’s no way you could say no. 

“Please Sanji, want to feel you…” You move your right hand down to position his cock at your hole. You grope sensually at his cock and try to push it inside of you. “Sanji, want you inside of me, please…” You whimper out in his ear as he pushed his face further into your neck. 

Sanji obliges and pushes himself balls-deep inside your waiting hole. He lets out a high pitched whine as he bottoms out. 

“Y/n…” Sanji lifts his hands and starts pinching at your sensitive nipples below him. Sanji leans backwards and looks at your wrecked body beneath him, tight hole enveloping his throbbing cock. “Pretty girl needs to cum… let me help…” Sanji plants one hand on your hip and the other on your throat. 

Sanji uses the thumb of his hand on your hip to stroke your clit and the applies pressure with the hand on your neck so that your airway is perfectly restricted. 

“San-….. ji!….” You choke out against your lovers grip as you cum on his hand that was deeply stroking your sex. Sanji’s soft, deft fingers swirl around your clit and spasming, stuffed hole. The feeling of Sanji’s thick cock buried deep inside you and the stimulation from his hands on your bud was too much as you felt your eyes roll back into your skull… 

“You’re so pretty mon Cherie, I want to cum in you baby…” Your head shoots up and Sanji slams his hips deeply into yours. “You’re mine now, sweetheart…” 

Sanji plows his slender hips into yours as he cums deep inside your raw walls. 

“Ah!-“ You squeeze and cream all over your lover, eliciting a pathetic whine from the spent lovecook who was still inside of you. You try to catch your breath and flop your head back on the pillow. Sanji gently pulls out of you and lays himself down next to you. You toss and turn on your stomach for a moment before settling in and Sanji moves to sit up.

“Let me clean you up, beautiful angel…”

 “Can we just sleep tonight, this bed is really comfy…”   You whisper as you stroke Sanji’s cheek, keeping him in bed with you.

“Im certainly glad I’m not on the floor, ma belle.” Sanji wrapped his arm around your torso and promptly began snoring. 

xx Mo

#one piece #one piece anime #one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #one piece fanart #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece fandom #zoro x reader #law x reader #zoro x sanji #sanji x reader #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #sanji #vinsmoke sanji