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#꧁i should shut up꧂

mirnsey · 5 months

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I saw other people say this too, if you write a Msub oneshot and have the absolute audacity to end it with ‘he flipped it over to show who was really in charge’ kind of shit, how could you. Like.. girlie, bestie, Pookie bear.. you don’t have to appease to both sides. Just write the dom reader one shot and move on Pookie

#writing #msub #ఌmirney’s moronic workఌ #꧁i should shut up꧂#domreader #oneshots #sub character #dom reader #why do you do this to me #why #bestie please #Pookie #specifically ones who don’t use the switch tag #and #only Msub or fdom #like 😒😒😒😒😒😒

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alexanderpearce · 10 months

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ship ask game 😁1 Who would be first to to bite down anc consume the flesh of the other, euphoric in the taste and the heft and the slide of the blood 2. who is the ant and who is the ophiocordyceps fungus? 3. who is the dog and who is the master? 4 when the roles are blurred or reversed who would be first to die and how? would it be by bulletwound? the phallic blade? strangulation? 5. Cocaine or Heroin? 6. who licks up the other’s cigarette ash? 7 who is julius caesar and who is brutus? 8. who is jesus and who is judas? 9. did jesus want it? did julius caesar know it was coming? are the betrayed ever proud? 10. who is irrumatus and who is irrumans? who is pedicatus and who is pedicans? 11. did they ever kiss and why not? 12 if they are two sides of the same coin who is heads and who is tails? 13. and if the coin was the holey dollar? 14. And if the dog bit back? 15 and if the dog bit back? 16 and if the dog bit back? 17 and if the dog bit back? 18 and if the dog bit back? 19 and if the dog bit back? 20. Who buys the other flowers?🥰

#feel free to proliferate this as either poetry or a real ask game it is both. And if you follow my sideblog you know who this is about #the latin participles mean who is facefucked/facefucking and who is sodomised/sodomising #my poetry #my writing #idr if theres any more posts in that tag maybe i should write more. this was fun.#it IS entirely inspired by and about ollie and malcolm the thick of it. for posterity.#its giving hannibal and will as well tho #shut up ulrike #shipping #fangirl #ship ask game #drug tw #popular #greatest hits #cordyceps

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eeldritchblast · 3 months

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I truly wonder if white fans are even capable of understanding how hard it is just being in a fandom space when you're not white. How alienated you feel every other day. How often you're told "it's not that big a deal" or "it's just a fantasy game get over it" or "it doesn't matter" or "go save the rainforest instead of crying over a game" or etc. etc. etc. to the point where you yourself start to question if there's something wrong with you... that it's your fault for being hurt all the time. Because it's never just about one racist mod, or one piece of whitewashed art, or one offensive post... it's all of it. Together. All the time. It's so fucking exhausting and it's why POC quit fandom spaces a lot.

#had a hard time deciding if i should post this on my main or here #ended up with this one cause i'm specifically thinking about bg3 fandom at this time #but it's certainly not unique to bg3 #anyway i'll shut up now

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mazeyphaedra · 1 month

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was rewatching fabian’s baron moment on account of it being the most delicious piece of pvp in my recent memory and ally beardsley’s growth as a player just shone through so brightly and with such clarity. after dusting off their shock they immediately asked about the nemesis ward, had enough knowledge about fellow pcs stocked to remember adaine’s ac with such like frustrated confidence and certainty, suggested to siobhan to dimension door out of adaine’s room, like. they came into this making a character with 4 dex. and now the dice deity offered to roll a check to sense if adaine was in danger. making decisions, asking questions, getting invested in the story, trying so hard with the tools they have to save characters from danger; ally beardsley is an incredible d&d player.

#blahblah tried to fly with a ribbon dancer SHUT UP. SHUT UP THEY HAD A VISION.#margaret encino’s call to the guards in battle of the brands is also a good moment #‘bonus action pick up a turtle and kiss it’ is CHARMING and FUNNY and APPRECIATES the art team #i swearrr to god if anyone comments abt them trying to railroad other players' actions. what the fuck do you want from them.#u hate when they play kristen as unserious when she’s literally a teenager with adhd + when theyre literally a comedian on a d&d comedy sho #but if theyre invested in other pc’s welfare youll shut them down too? bffr #ally beardsley you are so special to me #fully aware theyre an adult who likely does not care about people on the internet talking abt how theyre doing their job. as they should #they dont need defending they shouldnt need it people should just be normal abt them and until they are beardsley get behind me #yna.txt #fantasy high junior year spoilers #fhjy spoilers #fantasy high junior year #fhjy #dimension 20 #d20 #ally beardsley

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brookheimer · 1 year

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not sure why people don't seem to understand that shiv being the victim of misogyny and vitriol from all the men in her life can and does coexist with the fact that she is not a feminist liberal hero fighting to save democracy. why is it that we never afford her any nuance? she's either the only good person on the show and deserves to kill every man in a ten foot radius (twitter) or a uniquely evil cruel sociopath with no heart fueled entirely by spite (reddit). is it not just so much more interesting for her to be a fascism aiding and abetting character like the rest of them who also views herself as more progressive in spite of everything else about her and who undergoes horrific treatment at the hands of the men around her yet has no interest in undoing the system that allows them to do so, only in ruling it herself? shiv is not any better than the others nor is she any worse than them. there's no Evil Olympics here guys, nor should there be. snook said it herself in the after credits sequence -- shiv was just lucky that her interests aligned with her sympathies. who knows what she would've done had mencken been her best personal option? yes she cares infinitely more about politics than roman, yes she is still very much interested in maintaining the capitalist, fascist structure and even strengthening it, so long as it ends with her on top (which either way would be a win for liberal causes bc Woman). fascism isn't one-size-fits-all. it's not just mencken and trump. it's also mattson. it's also logan. it's also roman and shiv and kendall. that's... kind of one of the main points of succession? but even so, that does not negate the fact that as a woman it is so hard to watch some of the scenes with her and tom/roman/kendall -- of course that misogyny will resonate with female viewers, as it should!!! but that resonance needs to coexist with a deeper understanding of her character -- if you want to root for a bad bitch fighting against misogyny go watch, i don't know, captain marvel or whatever. what makes shiv interesting is that she's so so so much more than that -- she is the product, victim, and perpetrator of misogyny and fascism, two concepts so heavily intertwined they're virtually inextricable from each other. tl;dr it's one thing to be like my god someone give shiv a gun and it's another entirely to say, entirely seriously, that shiv is the Good Liberal Feminist One and the rest are all evil. like i absolutely adore shiv but i would honest to god find her so fucking boring if she were actually the person these tweets make her out to be i'm sorry

#me: shiv isn't evil! \ everyone: oh so she's the only good one?#me: shiv isn't good! \ everyone: oh so she's the only evil one?#NUANCE GUYS. IT EXISTS.#honestly i just don't get it. how are you all not just like bored by the versions of these characters you've created #all this being said. every man that called shiv hysterical tonight should be shot and killed.#<3 #succession #succession spoilers #casey shut the fuck up about shiv roy #shiv roy #long post #100 #500 #1000 #dude if i thought this would get notes i would’ve proofread it first. LMAO #like this is literally a word vomit ramble that i didn’t even read before posting . embarrassing 4 me #this time on posts i didn’t expect to get notes

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lauraneedstochill · 1 year

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Can't help falling in love

summary: 5 times Aemond was in love with you + 1 time he finally confessed his feelings

warnings: friends to lovers (at the age of 9, 10, 15, 17, 19), a pinch of angst (Aemond healing after losing his eye), but overall so fluffy and sweet you may want to skip dessert

words: ~ 5500 (I got reeeally carried away with that love confession)

Aemond is weeks away from his tenth birthday and he feels as miserable as ever. That feeling is an iron weight upon his heart, his mood irritated and face features grim more often than not. He is still without a dragon — and it’s the only thing he can think of, day and night, steadfast and stubborn in his obsession that most of his family finds to be blown out of proportion. It might have stang him less if only it wasn’t for the constant teasing and pitiful jokes that added to his distress and the never-ending heartache. He learns to keep a straight face and act as if he doesn’t really care, but deep down he does, way more than he’ll ever admit.

His training sessions are a way to channel his anger, and he lashes out at a straw man, again and again, clinging to the thought that, at least in these moments, he is not entirely powerless. He keeps his focus on the target, attentive to Ser Criston’s advice — “Soften your knees”, “Keep your feet light, your hands heavy”, and for a couple of hours he forgets about his misery.

It’s when the training comes to an end, the dreaded realization sinks in again, and Aemond is lost in his thoughts, mindlessly twirling the wooden sword in one hand, his gaze wandering around the yard.

And then his eyes fall on a bright green spot — and all of a sudden, he sees you. A girl of his age, the hem of your green dress a bit dusty, boots covered in dirt, a few strands of hair fallen loose, a coy smile on your face. You meet his gaze and wave at him excitedly.

Aemond looks dumbfounded. A girl in the training yard. Waving at him. He blinks once, twice — and in the next moment, you're standing merely a few steps away, glancing curiously at his sword.

"It looks so hefty! Is it heavy? What is it made of?" a string of questions, your voice sweet and joyful.

There’s a brief pause and maybe you mistake his stiffness for arrogance as you are quick to add:

“Oh, my manners!” gasping but showing no actual regret. “Forgive me,” you curtsy, your smile growing even wider. A timid smile appears on his face in return and he finally comes to his senses.

“It’s made out of red oak. It’s not very heavy, you get used to it,” Aemond raises the sword, letting you take a closer look. Within another blink of an eye he finds himself talking to you, your questions endless and maybe a bit naive but he genuinely enjoys it.

That’s until you both hear a loud cry:

“Lady Y/N!” your nanny comes running in, out of breath and scowling. “I told you not to wander around...,” she chokes on her words at the sight of the young prince. She curtsies, too, but it isn’t nearly as cute as when you do it.

She sprints decisively in your direction:

“It wasn’t very polite of you to interrupt the prince’s training, you little menace!”

And then Aemond, to his own surprise, moves to stand in her way.

”Y/N didn’t interrupt a thing,“ he disagrees, lips thinned into a tight line.

The nanny stops and looks at Aemond dubiously, switching her gaze from him to you.

Ser Criston is the one to resolve the conflict — he comes from behind, with a polite smile plastered on his face.

”Young lady can watch from the balcony. The guests are very much welcomed,“ he calls for the maid to escort you and your nanny up there. While you’re away, he looks at Aemond with a grin:

”Already wooing the ladies, my prince? Let’s hope you are as good with your sword as she thinks you are.“

He does make Aemond work for it but the prince fights back, winning one bout after the other. He keeps glancing at you and you wave at him every single time.

Aemond is too young to know what love is, too shy and guarded to even entertain the thought of it. But when you look at him, with your childish grin and your eyes bright with mirth, he doesn't feel lonely anymore.

It's been two weeks since Aemond lost his eye and he hasn't left the bed once. The pain is still blinding, burning and constantly making his only eye water. But what hurts even more is the humiliating disability. The triumph of claiming Vhagar died down, and now the prince was faced with the harsh reality he needed to adjust to and the process wasn't an easy one. The fever has only recently gone down, leaving his body weak and freezing from the lack of movement, but he couldn't bare the thought of stepping out of the room.

His mother wouldn't leave his side and even Aegon often came to visit, clearly blaming himself for not being there for his little brother. Yet their presence barely brought Aemond any comfort and most of the time he would pretend to be asleep to avoid any conversations. He knew they only meant well and he was being cruel but he couldn't help it as his pride was shattered and he gave in to sadness.

That is until one night he wakes up to a weird sound. He's only half-awake when he hears a vigorous tapping that clearly comes from the outside. Except it's not from the other side of the door — but rather outside his window.

He's startled by this guess and suspiciously walks closer. It takes him a few seconds to focus his gaze and discern a human's silhouette — and then another few to realize that it's you standing on the window sill. He feels like his heart will jump out of his chest as he rushes to open the window.

You climb through and clumsily drop to the floor. But before he can get worried, you are on your feet again, eyeing him with concern.

“Oh, Aemond,” your gaze and voice are both so soft, it makes his lower lip quiver. You carefully approach him and put your hand on his shoulder, gently sliding it on his back in a soothing motion and then cuddling him. He welcomes your company with a sigh of relief. You smell of oranges and you give the best hugs.

"They told me no one was allowed into your chambers," your hushed whisper burns his ear. "The silliest thing I've ever heard!" you pull away from him, still lightly panting, cheeks flushed and hair messy. "I knew I had to find a way to come see you."

You examine his face, frowning at the scar that's still healing.

"Does it hurt?"

He only nods, afraid that if he opens his mouth, he won't be able to hold back a sob. You move closer, resuming the gentle motion of rubbing his back.

Ever since that day in the training yard, you kept in touch, regularly sending each other letters, chatting about everything and nothing, sharing your little secrets and observations. You recently mentioned that your parents allowed you to come see him again, but with the tragic change of events, Aemond completely forgot about the preplanned visit.

"I will take his eye," you say out of the blue, caressing the unharmed side of his face, your voice laced with anger. Aemond thinks he might've heard it wrong.

"...Whose eye?"

"Luke’s! I shall take his eye, as payment for yours," you tell him with zero hesitation. For a girl of your age, you’re way too eager to plan such a thing, yet he somehow has no doubts that you can actually do it.

Aemond shakes his head:

"You shouldn't," his voice quiet but firm. "The King was very adamant about that, no payment is needed."

"Well, maybe he is too old to think straight," you retort. "You are his son and you lost an eye! Justice must prevail," you tilt your head at him, clearly thinking that you’re in the right.

And he knows that you are but he also knows no justice will be served. It’s the last straw for Aemond — he looks away in shame as tears, hot and angry, start falling down his cheek. You waste no time hugging him again, letting him cry on your shoulder, and the two of you stay like that for what feels like an hour.

And then, in the comfortable silence of your embrace, he hears you asking, very seriously:

"Are you sure I can't take his eye?"

At that moment, he can't stop himself from letting out a laugh — a weak one and barely audible, but still, he laughs, for the first time in two weeks, and you are the sole reason for it.

Your cheek is pressed to his, your fingers running through his hair, and Aemond realizes he can't lose you.

He begrudgingly persuades you that taking Luke's eye isn't worth the trouble.

By the age of fifteen Aemond becomes quite accustomed to the eyepatch and it gives him a boost of confidence. Losing an eye only made him train harder and his persistence pays off when he’s the one to win, time after time, no matter who his opponent is. His hair grows longer, now silky smooth and with no sign of his boyish curled ends, his face features sharpen. He learns to walk with his head high and hands clasped behind his back, mastering the intimidating look that makes most people want to stay away from the one-eyed prince.

His tricks could’ve never worked on you, though.

You come to visit him a few times a year, and he eagerly awaits your arrival. All the days in between, you keep talking through letters, them getting longer as you get closer. He keeps those letters locked in a hidden compartment of his table. And sometimes, for no specific reason — or maybe for the reason he can’t yet formulate — he is drawn to reach for them, which always ends with him rereading the letters for hours. Some of them he knows by heart and yet it never stops him from having the pleasure of seeing your handwritten stories and little jokes that were only meant for him.

Today is no exception and Aemond is so enthralled by reading, he almost misses the knock on the door. The sound brings him to reality but he is in no hurry to react. The knocking comes again, and the prince groans, annoyed at the maid's persistence. He carefully puts the letters back and goes to the door, armed with his cold gaze.

And then he opens it — and it's you standing in front of him.

Aemond barely has time to register what's going on when you launch yourself at him, your arms immediately enveloping him in a tight hug, your laugh ringing in the air. He hugs you back and, while you can't see it, he's grinning from ear to ear.

“I swear you’re getting taller every time we meet!” you look up at him, beaming, and he lets you in. “I soon will need a ladder just to hug you properly".

"I’ll be sure to let my body know of your disapproval," he sneers and you stick out your tongue.

"While you are at it, shall you also work on your friendly face? I overheard the maids being frightened to go into your chambers," you try giving him a scolding look but end up giggling at his reddened cheeks.

"I am friendly enough!"

“Yes, nobody glowers quite like you,” you snicker and flop right on the floor, the move always making him smile. Aemond tried persuading you to sit on any other surface that’s actually meant for sitting but you insisted that his fluffy rug works just as well, so he eventually gave up, deciding to join you. He never complained since.

Before he knows it, he’s immersed in the conversation while you enthusiastically share the recent news and everything that’s happened to you on the road. Only about half an hour in, he notes a small bag you're clasping in your hands.

“You come bearing gifts?”

“Oh, I almost forgot I had it,” you laugh, abashed. “I decided I should bring you something to replace this crumpled-looking thing".

It takes Aemond a minute to realize that you're talking about his eyepatch. But he has no time to protest as you silence him with a gesture of your hand:

“I took it upon myself to count for how long you’ve been wearing this one already,” your tone gets serious. “I must say, that number is disturbing.”

There's a moment of silence and then he clears his throat, his voice unsure:

“Very kind of you to think of that, I shall replace it later on.”

He reaches his hand to take the bag but you quickly cover it with yours, fingers brushing over his, and he freezes.

“Are you still not convinced that I can take a look at it?” you try to make eye contact but he averts your gaze.

“Aemond, I was with you and I think I’ve seen enough back then — none of it scared me.”

“It is not a sight for the faint of heart,'” the prince mumbles, his bravado faltering.

“Well, I don’t remember fainting the first time. You should have more faith in me,” you try to reason, holding his hand.

Aemond ponders for another minute — or maybe ten, he isn't sure, and you patiently wait, not wanting to press him any further. Then he finally makes a decision and, after taking a long, sad sigh, he removes the eyepatch and looks at you, the sight of him is the very definition of insecurity.

You stay silent for about five seconds before concluding:

“Oh, it healed so nicely!” with no hint of uncertainty in your voice. Your smile reassures him a little as you peer at the sapphire, looking very pleased.

"The gem compliments your eye very well," you give him your verdict, taking the new eyepatch out.

"We might have a different understanding of what a compliment is."

"This is me trying to say that I really like the way it looks," you chide him lightly. "And I consider myself to be quite understanding, thank you very much. Will you stop pouting and let me put it on?"

At this point he surrenders, giving you permission, and you move closer, giggling with excitement. You gently fix his hair, making sure it’s all combed back, and then lean to put the eyepatch on. You have a habit of biting your lower lip when you're too concentrated on something, and Aemond can't help but gaze at that part of your face while your teeth graze over the pillowy surface.

He’s never let anyone this close — and not just in the sense of physical proximity. The moment is very intimate, and the softness of your movements tugs at his heart. He is suddenly very aware of the very short distance separating you two, and he holds his breath. You are oblivious to his stare and soon lean back, satisfied with the result and glaring at him with something akin to fondness.

He wishes he could paint a picture of you right at this moment, so tender and caring and sitting by his side.

He also wishes he could kiss you — and that thought scares him to death. And yet, once it appears, it never goes away.

Aemond is seventeen and his life has been pure torture since you stopped visiting him. He hasn't seen you in over half a year (seven months and eleven days, not that anyone's counting). It's not your fault as your father has unexpectedly fallen ill and you couldn't leave his side. The prince exhausted the maester with questions, asking for advice to write back to you, worried sick that your separation would be stretched for way longer than he could handle.

Luckily, the Gods took pity on him, and he was glad to learn that your father got better, and you will come to the King's Landing soon. Your visit coincided with Aegon's birthday, but Aemond didn't care about the feast, his mind only occupied with the thought of seeing you. He was both nervous and excited to the point of not even hiding it, which led to Aegon teasing him relentlessly. Helaena, on the other hand, wholeheartedly supported Aemond's sympathy for you.

“She will be delighted to see you, too, I am sure of it,” his sister tells him the day before the event.

“But the reason for it might be of a different nature,” Aemond remarks, and Helaena gives him a compassionate look.

“You will never know her true feelings unless you ask,” she encourages. “The two of you are so close, I consider Y/N part of the family.”

Aemond knows that he’s of age and his mother hinted that, despite him showing no interest in courting, some ladies still found him attractive. He dismisses the idea but then finds himself thinking of it from time to time. When the realization forms in his head, it’s nerve-wracking but oh so compelling — he thinks he would’ve really wanted to marry you. He just doesn’t know how to tell you about it.

The day of your arrival comes, and Aemond wakes up at dawn in anticipation, determined to confess his feelings. He tries to come up with a speech, but it feels wrong and sounds weird, and he decides it will be better to improvise. He all but runs to the courtyard to be the first one to greet you. However, when you step out of the carriage, smoothing your dress, and your eyes meet, Aemond stops dead in his tracks and the world around him stands still.

His confidence might’ve blossomed — but not nearly as much as your beauty did. Somehow in those recent months, you’ve matured into a woman that takes his breath away.

It’s not a drastic change, it's all in the details: the contours of your face are more defined, the cheekbones prominent, your hair knotted up high in a perfect style and even your pace is much slower and gracious. You walk towards one another, both suddenly cautious. But when you are a couple of meters apart, a well-known smile appears on your face and you hold your arms out to him and he finally hugs you again, after all this time. Aemond relaxes, inhaling the familiar scent of fruits that you undoubtedly munched on your way here.

“You look exactly as I remembered you,” you say as you slip from his embrace.

“And you are a sight to behold,” he breathes out, taking you in, and your cheeks heat up at the compliment. You’ve never been shy with him before, so this is also new. He wonders what might’ve caused this change.

As the two of you walk around the castle, it feels a bit awkward at first, and you keep glancing at him with emotion he can’t read. But Aemond is too happy to see you to give it much thought, and within an hour you ease into the conversation, too. By the time the evening comes, the tension disappears, and you are laughing at his sarcastic remarks again, and he savors every second of it.

The feast in honor of Aegon is lush and crowded, but you stay by Aemond’s side, enjoying each other’s company, and he only has eye for you. When the music gets too loud, you sneak out and soon find yourselves in his chambers, just like in the good old days. Aemond is in the middle of telling you about Aegon’s recent foray to the Flea Bottom, when you say:

“It’s just the two of us,” your fingers sink into the fluffy rug. “You don’t have to wear it with me. You know it, right?”

He wears the eyepatch with everyone, only taking it off before going to sleep. Moreover, he actually cherishes it because it’s a gift from you. Aemond hesitates:

“I thought you quite liked it.”

“I only gave it to you because yours started to look like it was pulled off a dead man’s body!” you laugh.

Before he can think of an answer, you lean closer — your shoulder brushing his, your hand touching his face, the same gentle warmth he remembers so well, — and remove the eyepatch yourself. The sight doesn’t bother you in the slightest as you confess:

“I accept you the way you are, Aemond,” and then, a moment away from him opening his mouth and saying the thing that’s been on the tip of his tongue for the duration of the day, you add: “That’s what friends are for — and you are my best friend.”

And just like that, with this word alone, his plan goes out the window.

A friend. Aemond can’t even be upset at the reveal, because, honestly, being your friend feels like a blessing in itself and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. How could he be so selfish and foolish to even think about risking it all, risk losing you?

So he keeps his feelings to himself, locking them away deep in his heart, and doesn't argue with you.

Maybe he should have.

By the age of nineteen Aemond reaches the conclusion that he wants to take the risk. Otherwise, he thinks he might actually die as his heart can not hold all his feelings anymore. In two years' time, there isn’t a single thing about you that he hasn’t come to love, and keeping it a secret becomes harder with each day.

Aemond is ridden with doubts to the point where he can't hide it any longer and he decides to seek advice — and the prince can't think of a better person to talk to than his mother. Unbeknownst to him, Alicent was the first one to notice. Years ago, when you were kids, she quickly sensed the effect you had on her son, and it brought her joy as she watched the two of you get closer with time.

So when Aemond bursts into her room, anxiety radiating off of him as he starts jabbering away, his pacing erratic and voice trembling, it takes her about a minute to realize what's going on.

“My dear, I think you must talk to Y/N,” she approaches him, an understanding look on her face.

Aemond cuts his speech short, eyeing her with wonder:

“You don't seem surprised.”

“Your affection for her is as bright as a fire blazing,” Alicent chuckles. “I believe Y/N is the only one who doesn’t see it.”

“Should I tell her...?” he doesn’t dare say it out loud, not yet.

Alicent briefly takes his hands in hers, squeezing them.

“You should tell her the truth.”

Her encouragement gives him a dash of hope, lifting a weight off his chest. Aemond knows in an instant that the letter won’t cut it, and you must have the conversation face-to-face. Fortunately, your next visit is in a month, so his suffering won’t last for much longer.

Aemond almost reaches the door but then sharply turns to his mother again, his cheeks flushed:

“Will you give me your approval?” and this time, he looks straight at her as he wants to see her genuine reaction.

Alicent smiles, quick to reassure him:

“Yes, Aemond. Your betrothal would only make me happy.”

The prince feels elated, almost euphoric, as he finally goes to meet you and runs the remaining distance from his chambers to the yard. But when he sees you, the smile disappears from his face because he notices that something is wrong.

You look visibly upset, your eyes watering and fingers fumbling with the dress, even though you try to force a smile in return. The hug you give him is weak and you keep looking at your feet.

“What is the matter?” he’s never seen you this sad, but you brush him off.

“It’s just a headache, no need to worry.”

Yet that’s exactly what he does, offering to call for the maester, or to prepare you a warm bath, or bring you some tea...

“A cup of water would be nice, thank you,” he leaves you in the hallway to go and get it himself, the task only takes a couple of minutes. When he returns, you stand with your back to him, your shoulders are shaking — and he hears quiet, muffled sobs. If it wasn’t for the nearby table, he would’ve thrown the cup away, his focus on you alone. As he rushes to envelop you in a hug, you don’t fight it, instead nestling your face against his chest, not hiding your tears anymore.

Aemond gives you some time before asking again:

“This doesn’t look like just a headache. What is the cause of your anguish?” now he’s the one running his fingers up and down your back.

You let out a sound that’s a mix between a groan and a whine.

“My father says I am to be betrothed soon. He says I am of age already and... and he wants me to meet some of my cousins,” you sniffle. “I told him I have no wish to get married but he refuses to listen,” you bite your lip, not wanting to cry again.

Surely, that’s not how Aemond wanted to ask you. But he decides to take his chance.

“Mayhaps there is another way out that could make you feel better.”

“Please don’t tell me Vhagar will burn them down,” you jest but the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. Aemond thinks your idea isn’t that bad — but he has to try his first.

“If he insists you should marry but doesn’t have a particular candidate, maybe you can pick one yourself?”

“I’ve met all my cousins — and half of them are imbeciles, the others are too old to survive a wedding,” you scoff.

“Then pick someone you are not related to,” Aemond suggests.

“Do you have a particular candidate in mind?” when you ask with a tinge of annoyance, you don’t think he will answer. And then you look at him — and see him grinning before he says:

“Me”.

You glare at Aemond with eyes wide and mouth agape, the expression frozen on your face for a good minute.

“Are you laughing at me?” you manage to say.

“I wouldn’t dare,” his nerves are as tight as a wound-up string.

In the blink of a moment, your face lights up. You're looking at him indecisively, searching for words, agitated. But Aemond mistakes your confusion for rejection.

“At the very least you will marry someone you know,” he tries to reason — but it backfires, wiping the joyfulness off your face. Taken aback, you inquire:

“You pity me?”

He doesn’t grasp the poor choice of his words yet.

“You pity me and that’s why you want to marry me?” you give him a look of disbelief, your eyes glossy, and he can't get his head around what just happened.

“Oh, it was so silly of me to think that...,” you choke back a sob, putting your hand over your mouth.

Never in his life he thought he would be the reason for you looking so heartbroken. Aemond covers your hand with his palm — and you let him, as he tries to gather his courage.

“Y/N, I only meant to say that I —”

And then you recoil, snapping your hand back.

“Aemond, don’t,” you take a step back from him, then another one. “You have said enough. Please, let me be,” you turn away and leave the hall in a hurry before he can utter another word.

... 1.

He finds you at your usual spot, under the blossoming cherry tree. You’ve always said you liked the color of it, little white flowers reminding you of early spring, your favorite time of the year. You don’t know that Aemond insisted on planting that tree specifically for you. Just so he can sit nearby and, as you were basking in the sunlight with your eyes closed, he would get a chance to look at you with all his unconditional love and have those moments engraved in his memory.

Come to think of it, he had so many memories of you — and every single one of them was bliss, and he can recall them so easily like it was yesterday.

And so he does.

“When we first met, you wore a green dress,” his voice startles you, but you don’t turn to face him, sniffling with your arms folded. “It was the color of forest trees. Black lace around the hem of it, the matching hair ribbon that you kept losing,“ he keeps his distance, his hands shaking.

"Yes, I remember it pretty well," you sigh, avoiding his gaze, baffled by his sudden outburst.

"The second time was when you climbed through my window, almost gave me a heart attack," there’s a hint of a smile in his voice that you catch even without looking. "Blue dress, you tore a huge piece of it and couldn’t care less. You were the first person to make me laugh in two weeks even though it seemed impossible. But not with you."

He sees your eyebrows furrowing, hands sliding down to rest on your knees.

"Helaena’s name day came next, your dress was bright pink. Luke tried to make fun of it and you threw a cup full of water in his face. To this day, it’s one of my fondest memories."

You dare to look up at him, perplexed, your eyes wet from crying.

"Three months after was the light-blue dress, then the peach one and the brown one. Then the white one which didn’t survive the horse riding lesson, and Helaena gave you one of hers. Light green, too long for your liking, even though you pretended otherwise to please her," the corners of your lips tremble, your face softening.

"Then for a year you only wore violet, much to your nanny’s dismay as she thought it made you look ill. And I thought you were the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, no matter what dress you were in," he can’t take his eye off you.

Your face expression melts into a stunned one.

"I didn’t realize it back then. Or maybe I didn’t know how to call it. I just knew that your visits only brought me happiness," he takes a step toward you, uncertain, but you don’t move from your spot.

"When you were fourteen, you picked the autumn colors — orange, dark yellow, deep red. Your started braiding your hair, tried to braid mine," you can’t hold back a smile. He was fussy when you first voiced the idea but he ended up loving the process so much, he would allow it just to feel your fingers flowing through his hair.

"I think you actually enjoyed it", you mumble, and Aemond smiles, too.

"I did. I enjoyed every minute that I got to spend with you."

You stand up then, feeling your pulse quickening.

"The day you brought me the eyepatch, you wore emerald green. I was terrified to show you the scar," he pauses, catching his breath. "You assuaged my fears with your kindness. But then I was terrified to learn that I wanted to kiss you".

You think you are dreaming. Is it possible that you fell asleep under the tree? You don’t want to get your hopes too high, but when he looks at you like this, your own fears start melting away.

“Then was the black dress, the grey one, another white one. The golden one you wore to meet Vhagar,” when he saw you that day, he almost forgot how to breathe. You showed no sigh of apprehension as you fearlessly approached the dragon. He was absolutely besotted.

“And then came the agony of not seeing you for over seven months,” he closes his eye for a second, overwhelmed. He almost misses it when you speak:

“Seven months and twenty-five days. Not that I was counting,” his eye snaps open, instantly on you again.

You gravitate toward each other without even noticing. Aemond’s heart skips a beat when you’re at arm's length, your eyes shining and lips slightly parted. Even in the state you're in, you look so beautiful, it's mesmerizing, and the words are stuck in his throat. You are the one to break the silence:

"Aemond, please don't give me false hope," your heartbeat is too loud, you don't hear your own voice. He does.

"I do not wish to marry you out of pity," Aemond takes the last step. "I want you to be my wife because I'm in love with you," he wipes away the remaining tears off your face, his fingers linger, making you shiver. "I've been in love with you for quite some time. For a few years, actually," his voice gets low. "For what feels like an eternity," Aemond murmurs.

"Why haven't you told me?" you pout, nervously toying with the collar of his shirt.

"I was afraid you didn't feel the same. I still am but maybe... Maybe I am wrong?" his gaze is fixed on you, one of his hands following the contour of your waist, your body warming at the touch.

"Tell me that I am wrong," he whispers, begging.

You look at his lips, the soft curve of them that you’ve dreamt of for so long.

Aemond always thought yours were the most kissable he’s ever seen.

You don’t know who closes the distance first — but his mouth is suddenly on yours and the sensation leaves you disarmed. Kissing him is like being swept with a wave of tenderness, and you’re floating in it, his lips so fervid and supple — truly perfect — your head is spinning. The kiss is not awkward nor modest as you hastily cling to each other, his hands gripping your waist, your chest pressed into his.

Aemond feels like he’s drowning, and he wants more of you — all of you, and then your fingers tug at his locks, eliciting a groan from him, and it is simply a miracle that his heart doesn’t explode. You move in impeccable sync, in the passionate harmony that erupts from years worth of mutual pining. His lungs burn but he resists the urge to break the kiss and stretches it out the best he can until you are breathless, too.

"Never knew that you were so fascinated by my wardrobe choices," you tease, and his hum turns into a chuckle.

“You know what my favorite memory is?” you ask, your forehead resting against his.

“When we were thirteen, and you were teaching me how to hold a sword. I tackled you to the ground and scraped my knee,” you both smile at your then enthusiasm. “And you set everything aside to spend the rest of the day with me even though it was hardly a wound. And I remember thinking,” you hook your finger under his chin, “that there’s nowhere else I would rather be than with you, with this favorite boy of mine.”

The air around you tense, and you are enchanted by each other.

“Did that help to prove you wrong?”

“I may need some convincing,” his breath fanning over your lips.

“You can take your time,” you laugh — and then the sound of it is muffled by his athirst mouth.

His favorite memory will be this.

And every other moment with you that's to come.

author's note: I'm sorry if this came out messy and rushed. I tried my best to write a shorter fic (this is short for me lmao) and idk how I feel about it. I much rather prefer them longer because I'm a sucker for stories about two people getting to know each other and falling in love BUT I get it that others don't want to read long ass fics (which kinda breaks my heart but I'm being so very brave about it) anyways, I hope this was bearable, thank you for reading!

💙 the longer version of this fic might have looked like this (yes, this is a shameless plug! because I adore this one to pieces!! bite me) 💞 my masterlist 🎵 the title is a quote from Elvis Presley's song (duh). there are quite a few covers of it but one of my favorites is by Twenty One Pilots. there's also a female version — by Ingrid Michaelson — and I think both of them fit the story really well. P.S. I'm also on AO3 (lol, who isn't), in case you prefer to read fics there.

English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

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grandwretch · 3 months

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i so badly want one of those fic examinations of steve's relationship with joyce and hopper but solely through eddie's pov like hear me out

steve and eddie chat a lot in the upside down (and later in the hospital, when they learn hop is alive). steve has taken charge of filling eddie in on the rest of their of-age crew without the kids butting in. he never mentions his own parents, but he talks about the rest of the party's a lot, especially joyce and hopper. eddie knows what it's like to desperately want someone to be your parent and trying to hide it from his own childhood, when he would try to be cool about wayne dropping him off at his dad's house. steve obviously adores joyce and hopper, thinks the world of them and legitimately looks up to them.

eddie isn't sure what he expects from a cop who came back to life and the world's most determined housewife, but he's excited to meet them as someone steve loves.

cue eddie's horror when he realizes that neither of them really feel much for steve rather than annoyance and vague distrust. that joyce trusts will with eddie, an accused murderer, in a heartbeat and still hesitates to leave him with steve. that hopper brushes off every ounce of steve's hero worship and joy.

he tries to broach the topic with steve, gently, and is heartbroken when steve genuinely has no idea what he's talking about. and not because he's oblivious, but because steve thinks that's what he deserves. he thinks that's the parental love that someone who was an asshole in high school needs, because that's what would make him a good person. he needs people to call him out constantly, obviously, because why else would they keep doing it? why would nancy? at least they're here. at least they're not ignoring him. at least they're not forcing him into a box. they just want him to be better.

like, this is the man who thanked a girl for calling him bullshit and telling him she never loved him. he doesn't Know that's not how you're supposed to handle things. no one ever taught him that.

and now eddie's gotta figure out how he can teach steve how to be loved the right way without outing himself and his huge crush on his love-starved dork of a friend.

#shut up az #steddie #i just had the flash of eddie in a hospital bed staring up at hopper and the way he talks to steve in horror #like hopper saying something off the cuff about how he's not surprised there was so much collateral with steve in charge #and eddie thinking about steve always putting himself in harm's way #and the way steve got mauled by bats way before eddie did and then KEPT. GOING. but no one is mentioning that #no one is mentioning that steve was the first one of their group physically hurt by this.#and steve is just nodding like he agrees and eddie doesn't want to be rude bc these ppl are obviously Important to his friends #and then Mike comes in later and says something Mike-y and Eddie snaps at him #then he has to apologize because Mike is a stupid kid who loves Steve in his own way #and Eddie shouldn't blame him for the behavior of adults who should no better just because Mike is an easier target #anyway Eddie doesn't know how to have parents right either so he ropes Jeff and Lucas and Gareth and Robin into OP: Teach Steve Self-Worth

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mirnsey · 5 months

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꧁𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐒꧂

❣︎𝐃𝟐. 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈❣︎

★✩★✩★✩★

• 𝐧𝐛 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡! 𝐂𝐄𝐎! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲! 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧! 𝐒𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐝, 𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐟 𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐨𝐛, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧, 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 •

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟐.𝟔𝐊

Toji was always seen as someone who wasn't good with money. He barely even upheld a job.. or, no—he wouldn't and didn't have a job at this point. No little jobs wanted to hire him because he seemed too intimidating and as if on the drop of a hat he would rob the place, and he was too lazy to do some big business jobs in offices. So, what do you do when you need money but don't wanna do work? Why not be a sugar baby? Suck some guy off and get paid for it? Easy.

So he went on some websites, looked up some people, and he got hooked up with some CEO of a big business. You were rich too? Perfect! For the first couple of weeks it was easy, Toji ventured to your condo to have a fun night with you, and he would wake up with a stack of cash on the bed side table, and with you nowhere to be found, off to work. It was like that at least five days a week, it was as if it was the nine to five job Toji refused to get. Setting off to your house each night, getting fucked, getting money, and then spending it on whatever.

And that 'whatever' was true as well. You never asked him what he spent his money on, and Toji never thought he had to tell you.

Well.. until this morning.

Toji raised from the silky comforters of your bed, dark eyes flitting over to the bedside dresser for the money, eyes widening when you were surprisingly still there. You were dressed in your work clothes, dark pants and a button up white shirt with your best leather shoes, though your jacket was somewhere else than your shoulders. Your fingers were working at counting out the money, hundreds already split between your forefingers. At the stirring of the man still on your bed, you looked over, eyes nonchalantly flicking over the pale skin of his chest. Most of the skin wasn't as pale as they were supposed to, covered with bites and red marks from last night, the man's calloused hand breaking you out of your reminiscing when it scratched over the valley of his pecs.

You looked back to the green paper in your hands, folding over about eight hundred dollars. You looked back to Toji again, the man already watching you, mostly the money in your hand, curious about something. "What do you use this money for anyway?" You asked, one of your brows raising in question as you waved the money in question.

Toji just shrugged, scratching the back of his neck while his jaw opened wide in a yawn. "Eh.. anything really," he answered, seeming as if he was hiding something. Your eyes bore into him, awaiting for him to say the whole truth. "Gambling, bets.." he listed out, as if it wasn't some waste of money. Your eyes narrowed, slight anger sparking in your voice when you spoke up.

"Do you win?" You asked, fingers tightening around the money. At this rate you would be late for work, and you were never late. Despite asking, you could probably already know the answer to how Toji would run back to you eagerly almost every night for the money to show up the next morning on the bedside dresser. It seemed to just be for the money, but he loved the sex too. "Do you?" You repeated slowly when not getting an answer from Toji, trying to keep eye contact even though he averted his gaze to one of your deep gray walls.

"Not.. really?.. like, once every.. five weeks.." he answered with a shrug, voice making it seem more like a question to himself. Your brows furrowed in annoyance, hand stuffing the roll of money into your pocket. "You mad?" He asked, the wide smirk on his face revealing its joking intentions.

Of course you were mad!

Sure this was just some side hustle because you were bored, trading sex or even just time together for money wasn't bad. And you didn't care at first, but how he would scamper back to you almost every day of the week was concerning after a while. You were wondering what he was doing with that money every time he left, it was a lot too! You asked just to make sure he wasn't buying drugs or something, this of course wasn't as bad—but you were still infuriated. You weren't just giving over money for him to give it away and not use after betting on some bad horse in a race.

Toji needed to be taught a lesson..

Maybe breaking that on time streak would do you some good..

With a roll of your eyes you ran a hand over your face, trying to ease the wrinkles caused by your furrowed brows. You snapped your fingers, gesturing him over as you ventured to the foot of your bed. You watched him walk over to you, black hair still messy and body only covered in his dark boxers. For a moment you just let your eyes rake over him, pupils focusing on his slightly hard cock. Morning wood, great..

Your mind wandered for a moment, if he was like this every time he was over after you had left for work. Did he jerk off before he left as well? Maybe take use of some of the toys tucked away in your side drawer—

Your tongue flicked out of your mouth, licking your lips as they felt unusually dry. You had something you were doing, you couldn't get distracted by the ebony haired man's dick. Leaning back with a sigh you patted your thigh, which Toji thought was an invitation to sit on your lap, which he would gladly take. Getting a quick fuck in before you went off to work? Sure.. would he be getting paid extra? Though, with a quick hit to the back of his thigh and a sharp look in your eyes he realized you wanted him to lay over your lap. Oh no...

Toji grumbled at the hit, leaning over and resting his torso on the top of your thighs, but, oh, would he be grumbling about worse things later on. Toji's dark eyes stared at the shag carpet tucked under your bed, ankles crossing anxiously when you didn't make a move immediately. Your fingers finally started to touch him, caressing the many scares on the man's back. You watched closely as he twitched at your soft touches, hips shifting over your thigh as he tried to get comfortable. His teeth nipped at his bottom lip to keep in a moan when his cock rubbed against your thigh, eyelids lowering.

As Toji continued to shift you sent a swat of your palm on his ass, causing the man to cry out. His face was now flushed in anger but also embarrassment, looking over his shoulder at you. "Hey! Fuck was that—" his words were cut off with another slap to his bottom, body jolting forward in surprise. Are you seriously spanking him over your knee like a child? It was humiliating and it wouldn't do any good, Toji would probably just go and bet his money away once you left for work.

"Count," Was all you said, rubbing your hand over his clothed ass. His brows just furrowed, confused. "I'm not-" at this point he wouldn't get out a full sentence if you kept hitting him as he was speaking. "I said, count." You repeated, fingers grabbing at his hair and pulling his hair back. A sharp hiss left Toji's lips, eyes squeezing closed at the stinging from his scalp.

Toji let out a groan, eyes prying open to face your glare. "One.." he growled, already knowing he would not be liking this. What were you gonna do? Ten spanks to the ass and then you would shoo him off and head to work? Easy. He would be out of here in less than ten minutes.

★✩★✩★✩★

One hour.

It has been.. one hour.

Toji's cheeks were red, and not just the ones on his face. After the first ten hits you had gotten a bit annoyed by the lack of responses by the ebony haired man, so you tugged his boxers off, tossing them somewhere in your room. Now his ass cheeks were a bright red, prints of your hand left on his skin.

He hiccuped lightly, eyes glossy with tears and face stained with already fallen ones. His hands were gripping your pant leg, wrinkling your clothes as he tried to keep his composure. It was painful, it stung, and he probably wouldn't be able to sit for a week.. but it felt.. good? Every hit of your hand caused a shock to rise up his spine, and to his cock.

Speaking of his cock. It was weeping, pressing against the scratchy fabric of your pants causing only slight stimulation. With every hit of your hand he would jolt, the underside of his dick rubbing against your thigh. His tip was red, almost purple, pre leaving a patch of wetness on your pants. Toji was sobbing and yearning just to cum, or to even just get away.

He tried to get himself together as your fingers just ran over the marks you had left, whole body trembling. His chest racked with sharp and shaky breaths, trying to anticipate the next hit. Sadly, he didn't anticipate enough, body jumping when you sent another slap to his ass. "3-3.. 31.." he hiccuped, eyes squeezing closed and more tears falling from his lash line.

"Good." You smiled, palm smoothing over his bottom to try and ease away the pain. You felt a bit sympathetic for him. He had messed up counting at least twice now, each closer and closer to the last spank you promised him. You said a good 35 would be good after he started speaking back around 12, only 10 away from his first mistake.

You watched as Toji's hips started to piston against your thigh, trying to send even a sliver of pleasure to counteract the pain. With a small chuckle your hand swatted his ass again, ripping a loud whine from the man's throat. Though, after this hit he didn't say the number immediately, head dropping down as he let out more cries. Coos left your lips, fingers running up and down his spine to try and ground him again. "Color, Toji?" You asked, wanting to make sure he wasn't tapping out.

With a sharp intake of air from the man he let out a measly 'green', body shivering with the conflicting feeling of your soft touches and stinging on his ass. "Good." You said, a smirk quirking at your lips. You had a sadistic idea, and Toji would definitely hate it. But.. It's all in the work of teaching him his lesson, isn't it? You ran your palm over his cherry red ass before bringing it back and spanking him again, Toji letting out a loud cry as his body tensed up. "Number?" You purred, awaiting to see if your plan would work.

"3... 3.." Toji droned on, trying to remember. After another moment he spoke, "32?.." he spoke, concerned that he had gotten it wrong so close to his final number. Perfect.

You tutted lightly, the response already causing Toji to pipe up in fear. He couldn't have messed up again, no.. nonono.. the last number he said was 31! He was right! You were lying!

"No, sorry baby, but that's wrong.." you said, your voice giving way to the wide smile on your face. Toji couldn't help but cry louder and you couldn't help but feel yourself throb at the sound of his shaky breaths and just imagining the tears running down his face.

"No—'m not-[name] please!" He begged, using his shaken arms to raise himself up. Despite the muscles under his skin his arms seemed like noodles, using all of his strength to just lift his upper body. "Please.. please—I won' do it again! Please-" he begged, voice being cut off by a whiny cry.

You watched him with a smile, fingers still caressing his red ass. "Oh.. how can i say no to that face." You teased, using your free hand to brush his tears away, Toji instinctively pushing his cheek into your hand to try and win you back.

But really, how could you?

His cheeks, all four of them, a bright red from abuse and tears. His bottom lip swollen and almost bleeding from him digging his teeth into it, trying not to cry out too loud when getting punished. Oh, and those eyes. They were glassy and just begging for your forgiveness, eyelashes holding small tears. You cooed, using your thumbs to wipe his tears, fixing him on your lap so you were chest to chest. Toji immediately started to shift to get comfortable, the feeling of your pants a bit irritating against his slapped ass. "Promise?" You asked, brows raised as he just nodded, leaning forward and melting into your body.

His face pushed into your neck, a whine muffled when you wrapped your hand softly around his base. "Oh—wait, f-fuck— ah," he moaned, hands pawing at your shirt for something to grab onto. You stroked him slowly, carefully picking up pace. It wasn't too long until he needed to cum, your voice ringing in his ears as you whispered sweet nothing into the skin of his cheek. "Mmph—'m gonna-i gotta—" he wasn't even able to get to the point of his sentence before he let out a choked groan, hips thrusting up into your hand as he came. Spurts of awaiting cum shot from the tip of his cock, twitching and meaning widely as he finally got his orgasm, his cum coating your hand and your shirt. You marveled at the sight of his dick for a moment, grinning at its purplish color, sadly being pulled from your thoughts when some fell from your fist and into your expensive pants, a low grown leaving your lips.

Toji slumped forward into you, breathing shallow once again when you continued to stroke him. "Mmh—[n-name] no.. can't.." at his words you pulled away slowly with a roll of your eyes, mumbling a condescending 'baby' as a joke. Your hand laid on his thigh, easing it down when his muscles suddenly jumped at the contact of your hand. You pat the side of his leg, turning to lay him on the bed. You chuckled when Toji's arms shot out and around your neck, pulling you into him. You cringed away knowing that his spent and cum covered cock was leaving stains on your shirt and pants, some probably even getting on your belt.

"Toji—I'm starting your bath," you laughed, trying to not give into his embrace. You let out a chuckle at a thought, prying Toji's muscled arms from around your neck and tucking your hand into your pocket, fishing out the money you had counted out before. You folded it before tucking it between the naked man's parted teeth, catching him up off guard. You then walked off to start the bath you were talking about, leaving Toji to catch his breath and count the money you had stuck into his mouth.

800 dollars?...

Tomorrow at 8:30 it is.

★✩★✩★✩★

𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 😔

𝐊.𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 . 𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

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transvampireboyfriend · 8 months

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part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

"I'm just saying, if the heat bothers you so much, you could cut your hair" Nancy points out, after declining Eddie's pleas for her spare scrunchie.

Robin sits on Nancy's lap, clutching the back of Steve's seat and she looks at Steve through the side mirror like she's afraid that he's about to go on a mission to defend Eddie's honor or something but Steve rolls his eyes at her. He's not that gone.

Or at least he knows how to hide it well.

Eddie's lost several of Nancy's favorite hair accessories and two weeks ago she bowed to never lend him any ever again.

Which, does not stop Eddie from asking her anyway at least once a day.

But the point is, even if Steve wanted to, Eddie's honor cannot be defended in this situation.

Nancy's leaning behind Argyle's back now to glare at the metalhead. Steve can see them in the rearview mirror.

Eddie gasps "I would never" he says, clutching his chest dramatically.

Steve secretly breathes a sigh of relief.

Johnathan chuckles at the wheel. "But you could" he comments, eyes on the road.

Steve can see Argyle subtly laughing and shaking his head out of the corner of his eye.

Today is a rare occasion, Jonathan is driving them in Steve's car.

The goal of Steve's rant earlier about having to drive them everywhere was to get Eddie to drive them, so Steve could sit shotgun and watch Eddie drive.

Instead, Jonathan had offered first and then Steve couldn't go in the backseat because he's in charge of their map.

But whatever, this is fine too. He trusts Jonathan and it is nice to get a break and to be able to fully turn around when he's talking to someone in the backseat.

"Jon, I would lose all my sex appeal, you don't get it" Eddie answers, getting a box of Twinkies from one of the many bags they packed and placed on the floor of Steve's car.

"I get it" Argyle chimes in, watching Eddie pull out a Twinkie and shaking his head no when Eddie offers him one.

"You'd still be sexy with short hair" Robin comments from her seat on Nancy's lap.

Everyone turns to look at her.

"What?" she shrugs "I can say that"

Nancy chuckles into her shoulder.

Steve opens their map again to stop thinking about Eddie's 'sex appeal', even as the guy is excitedly munching on a Twinkie in the backseat of Steve's car.

He's got cream in the corner of his mouth and he clearly put more in his mouth than he can comfortably chew. He's leaning one elbow on Argyle's shoulder, his hand holding half a Twinkie, his other hand holds his mop of hair up in a high bun, causing his cut off tank to sit barely covering his nipples, his tattoos on display and his armpit hair fully visible.

Steve's fairly certain nobody else in this car would get it, but to him the sight is mouth watering. The guy is practically irresistible.

"I don't think i would've gone on even half the dates I've gone on if i didn't have my hair" Steve muses, for something to say and to add to Eddie's point, even though he agrees with Robin.

Almost everyone answers with agreeable noises, except Eddie and Robin.

Robin snorts and says "You are relentless"

While Eddie says "You don't get dates for your hair" at the same time. In a tone that suggests he thinks this is an obvious thing.

"I mean- it doesn't hurt" provides Nancy, she sends Steve an apologetic look but Steve waves her off. It's a compliment as far as he's concerned, he loves his hair.

Eddie finishes his treat and opens a new one while everyone else gives their opinions.

"For a lot of people, hair is a big part of attraction" Jonathan is saying, trying to seem like he's not speaking from experience.

"Especially hair as luscious as Steve's" Argyle agrees, leaning forward to lightly comb the side of Steve's hair, making him laugh.

"Thanks, man" Steve says overlapping Eddie's response.

"And I agree!" he exclaims "I'm saying he doesn't get dates because of his hair." Eddie goes on, waving his new Twinkie around for emphasis. "People throw themselves at Steve, and always will, but it's not because of his hair" he repeats.

Steve feels his cheeks heat up but still asks "Then why?"

"Well, because you're very pretty!" Eddie answers easily, like everyone should already know this.

Steve keeps his eyes carefully trained on the map, like he needs to study it meticulously, right this moment, while they're in the middle of a highway.

His cheeks are burning up and he can feel it spreading to his ears.

"And that's if they don't know you!" Eddie continues "If they do know you they know you're kind and brave and strong ...and generous and funny. Who wouldn't want all that in a date?" Eddie finshes.

Oh I don't know, you? Maybe? Do you? Steve thinks.

"Even bald, people would still go crazy for you" Eddie adds, his words slightly muffled towards the end as he shoves almost all of the new Twinkie in his mouth but apparently thinks better of it, biting all but a small piece.

"Here. You want the rest of this?" Eddie offers Steve, talking through his mouthful, and presenting the small piece with his ringed fingers, right in front of Steve's face.

Without thinking, Steve leans forward and takes it with his mouth, his lips burning where they touched Eddie's fingers.

As Eddie retrieves his hand Steve realizes what he just did and how quiet the car got.

He sends Robin a panicked look through the side mirror as Jonathan awkwardly clears his throat.

"Argyle's got nice hair" Robin tries.

The car immediately fills up with enthusiastic agreement and Steve slowly breathes out.

He can't bring himself to look at Eddie as he chews on his bite. He practically licked Eddie's fingers. Unprompted! The guy probably meant for Steve to grab the treat and then eat it. If he even accepted it at all!

Steve feels like an idiot and he frowns at the map again, willing himself to ignore the goosebumps in his arms and the tickling on his lips.

He doesn't see Eddie worriedly staring at him for the remaining of their conversation, until Nancy takes pity on him and offers up her spare scrunchie to distract him.

part 2

#if there's one thing you should know about them is this: they are sooooo dumb <3 #steddie #steveddie #steddie headcanon #stranger things #.#i hope the car configuration isn't too confusing here #also i didn't tag the other ships bc they're so minimal and I don't wanna clog those tags #also this could be platonic. or it could be polycule. you decide :)#i might have a part two but don't tell #also if this by some curse this is seen by someone who was there when i acted like Eddie is acting here SHUT UP #this is fictionalized and NOT YOUR BUSINESS #steddie lake fic

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willowser · 9 months

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not to be so disgusting and gross about gojo on the dash but i think he's such a flirty, teasing idiot that, when you show him genuine and true affection, he goes all somber and quiet.

like you come up to him after dinner and stand on your tip-toes and hug him for no reason, give him a fat kiss on the cheek for no reason, and he just — lets you. doesn't say anything, just kind of hums and lightly places his hands on your hips, so gently you might not even know they're there. you tell him, "i love you, thank you for eating with me," and he presses his mouth to the top of your head, lips squished, and says it back, but there's no jokes, no teasing remarks. he just allows himself to be weak and to bask in it, for as long as he can.

#the only way to shut him up 😒#you're so open and honest with him and are placing your heart in his hands to hold and he's like HMM. SHOULD I BE TRUSTED TO HAVE THIS ?? 🥺#bc i think any relationships he has are very fun and quick and cat-and-mouse #so with you he's like. i dont think i should let myself get in too deep with this. just in case.#but he's ALSO LIKE. SATORU YOU WOULD BE SO STUPID TO LET THIS GO #WAAAHHH I HATE HIM how dare he make me feel things how DARE HE !!!!#✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: gojo

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toffeebeantable · 10 months

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(Edited) Basically a whole list of all the mp100 promo art from the crew including ONE

#mp100 #toffee should shut up #mob psycho 100 #im sorry i cannot i need to find them all

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dragonpyre · 2 months

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I'm a chronic migraine Jason Todd truther. Except he doesn't know they're migraines. Poor guy will be layed up on his couch for days wondering what wizard he pissed off cuz light hurts, sounds hurt, he thinks he's gonna throw up, his vision doesn't work right, and also there's an invisible rail spike driving itself into his skull. Then his thinks it's a Pit side affect or some other weird thing.

But no. It's just migraines

#they're triggered by his general PTSD and stress #and YES this is me projecting onto my blorbo #shut up #i just think he should have some mundane bullshit that's easily fixable #like just take some excedrin bro #jason todd #dc #red hood #migraines #batman #text post

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