#that it wasn’t that bad and he’s over exaggerating

[achilles-rage]

Good Luck Charm: Chapter 18

college football player!buck x plus size!reader

summary: you finally finish your assignment and talk about the upcoming holiday break.

word count: 3.1k

previous chapter

series masterlist

a/n: believe me when i say i was not planning for this chapter to go the way it did. but it’s fine it was hot<3 i also kept the holiday reader celebrates ambiguous to keep it inclusive, so hopefully i can keep it going being nonspecific lol, enjoy<3

warnings: smut, plus size!reader, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

MDNI- 18+ only!

While Evan put up a fight at first about accepting your help, he quickly got over it. You kept trying to reassure him that you want to help, that you want him to heal as well as possible, even if you have to do things for him. He didn’t listen at first; he didn’t want to be a burden; he didn’t want you to be annoyed with him or feel like you had to help him. But still, you continued to care for him with a smile on your face, and soon enough, he started to love how much you were doting on him. It made him feel important, loved.

It’s almost exhausting when he’s finally used to you doing things for him, and you’d be a little upset if he wasn’t so cute with his little pouty lips and puppy dog eyes. 

“Princess, can you get me some more water?”

“Princess, can you get me a sweater?”

“Princes, can you…?”

You’re almost certain he’s exaggerating his injuries by now, as his concussion is gone and his ankle has been healing for a couple of weeks, but how can you say no when he asks you to stay with him for a little bit longer? You love being with him, and you love taking care of him, so it makes sense to spend most nights at his place rather than going back to your apartment.

You’re at his house again, both of you sitting on his bed as you work on the final touches of your assignment. You’re happy to finally be done with it, although you have this weird feeling in your chest that once your assignment is handed in, you won’t have any reason to see Evan. You know your worries are unnecessary; you’re dating, and he seems very content in keeping you around all the time, but you feel that minuscule voice in your head telling you what you know isn’t true. 

You look out his bedroom window, smiling as you see the soft blanket of snow covering his front yard, the sunset shining brightly off of it and making you excited for the quickly approaching winter break. It’s already December, and you can’t believe how quickly the semester has passed. A couple weeks off and finally able to spend some time with your family? You couldn’t imagine anything better. Especially for the holidays.

“What are you doing for winter break?” you ask as Evan types away on his computer. He looks up at you after a moment, his fingers stilling on his keyboard. His expression almost looks upset, but he quickly covers it with a small smile.

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll probably stay here; hang out with some of the guys on the team that aren’t going home either.” he tells you, his voice oddly monotone. You know he’s not especially close to his parents, but you didn’t know it was bad enough for him to not go home during winter break. He’s definitely holding his emotions back right now, and it makes your heart clench to think about him alone during the holidays, with no loving family to go home to.

“Your parents don’t want you to go home?” you ask, but you already know the answer. He shrugs, giving you a soft “I don’t think they care” as he looks down at his hands, fidgeting with his fingers. Sadness fills your eyes, and you let out a quiet exhale. How can his parents not want to see him?

“What about your sister? I’m sure she wants to see you.” you try to reassure him, but you can see that your words cause sadness to fill his eyes as he shakes his head. You reach over and grab one of his hands, which pulls his gaze from his lap to your face. 

“You can’t be alone for the holidays.” you whisper. You can feel the question on the tip of your tongue, and while you know it may be a little weird to ask, it feels like the words are fighting their way up your throat.

“I’ll be alright, princess. It’s not the first time, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.” he tells you with a shrug, trying to mask his sadness with a reassuring smile. You tilt your head to the side as you look at him, frowning. You feel the words slip from your mouth before you can stop him; why is he the one reassuring you right now? You should be the one telling him that he shouldn’t have to be used to that. That he deserves to feel loved all the time, but especially around the holidays.

“Why don’t you come home with me for the break?” His eyes widen at your words, and for a moment, so do yours. You know it’s probably too early for that kind of thing; he’d be meeting your entire family, for God’s sake, but you can’t imagine him sitting here alone while everyone else is with their families.

“You want me at your parents’ house for the holidays?” he asks in disbelief, although he can feel his heart pounding at the thought. He absolutely loves the idea of meeting your parents, and spending a few weeks in your hometown; learning even more about you.

“I’m sure they’d love to meet you. I know my mom does.” you tell him a bit sheepishly. You’ve told your mom about him already, although you’re not as close to her as you once were, you still talk to her fairly regularly.

“Your dad doesn’t?” he asks you curiously, using the hand holding yours to pull you towards him. You get up onto your knees and crawl across the bed, then straddle his lap and wrap your arms around his neck loosely.

“I haven’t told him. Not sure how he’d react.” you say with a shrug, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his. He hums softly, and although he’s a little nervous about your answer, he also feels an overwhelming urge to prove to your father that he’s good for you.

“Yeah? Tell me about him, so I know what to expect.” You lean back, looking at him with an unsure smile, disbelief in your eyes. 

“You’ll come?” you ask, your smile widening when he nods. You laugh softly and lean in to give him a chaste kiss, but he quickly deepens it, his hand moving to your jaw and tilting your head slightly. You smile into the kiss, and let him continue to kiss you for a moment, one of your hands making its way into his hair while his other hand moves up and down your thigh.

“So, tell me about your parents.” he speaks after he pulls away, looking up at you with a gleam in his eye. He loves the way you look sitting on his lap, lips puffy and eyes in a slight daze. He thinks it’s adorable that even after the countless times he’s kissed you, you still always pull back with wide eyes and a soft smile, almost like you’re surprised he’s kissing you.

“Well, my mom will love you, so you don’t have to worry about her much. I think she’ll just be happy I’ve finally brought someone home. My dad’s sort of protective, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. He’s a firefighter, and he’s an extrovert, so all you have to do is ask him about his job, and the heat will be off of you for hours.” you explain to him, laughing softly as you explain your dad’s tendency to talk about his job. He’s always wanted to be a firefighter, and he loves the job, so it’s become a joke between you and your mom about how quickly he can change the subject to work during conversations with anyone that will listen. 

Evan hums softly, nodding as he listens to you. He laughs along with you, feeling his nerves settle slightly as you tell him how to get on your dad’s good side. He can’t believe he’s agreed to this so quickly; a few months ago, he would never have pictured himself being introduced to a girl’s parents. But now, with you, he feels both excited and like his heart is about to stop from his nerves.

“You think he’ll like me?” he asks a bit nervously. You smile, shrugging as you think about it. You’ve never introduced a guy to your father, so you’re really not sure how he’ll react. While you want to reassure Evan, you don’t want to give him a false sense of hope. 

“I like you. I think he’ll see that. He might just have to warm up to you.” you tell him after a moment of silence. He nods again at your words, licking his lips as he averts his gaze from yours, beginning to think about it maybe a little too much. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. He’ll probably just want to make sure you’re a good guy. It’s not like he’ll find out you’re, like, a murderer or something.” you tease in a low voice, giving him a cheeky smile. You want to calm his nerves; you can see the wheels turning in his head. He chuckles as his eyes refocus on you, and he pulls you in by the back of your neck, lips level with your ear.

“Maybe not, but I definitely wouldn’t want him to find out what I’ve done with you, how I think of you most of the time.” he rasps, and you feel your cheeks grow hot. 

“Yeah? What are you thinking about right now?” you get out, your voice just above a whisper. Although your words are teasing, your stomach is filled with butterflies. Even after months of being with him, there’s always a split second that you forget you’re not still the shy, inexperienced person you were before.

“I’m thinking about taking you in your childhood bedroom. Your parents in the other room. Having to put my hand over your mouth to keep your quiet.” he says, nipping at your neck between sentences. You bite your lip, feeling a familiar warmth in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re crazy if you think my dad’s gonna let us share a room.” you tease softly, tilting your head back as he continues to kiss your neck. He chuckles against your skin, which causes you to shiver as his hot breath hits your neck.

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him.” he whispers in your ear, then continues his trail of kisses down your neck. You roll your eyes, giggling softly, but it’s cut short when you feel Evan’s hand dip below the waistband of both your leggings and your panties, and move straight to your core.

“You’re so wet already. You like that idea? Having to keep quiet for me?” he says in a cocky tone, looking up at you. You bite your lip as your hips buck against his hand instinctively, trying to gain more friction as his fingers ghost against your clit.

He chuckles as he feels your hips move, but doesn’t tease any further. He pushes a finger into your dripping cunt, pumps it into you a few times, then adds another. You mewl softly, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss, which he happily returns. His thumb finds your clit after a moment, and he groans as he feels you clench around his fingers with a soft moan.

“You’re so good for me, princess. Always so good for me.” he says against your lips, then curls his fingers to hit that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. You tilt your head back with a whine, rolling your hips as you feel the familiar feeling growing in your belly.

He increases his movements when he sees your face contorting in pleasure, knowing you’re approaching your high, but you stop him before you can get there. You pull his hand away with quick, albeit reluctant, movements.

“Need to feel you.” you whisper in an almost pleading tone, and that’s all it takes.

He grabs your hips and flips you over onto the bed, then moves to kneel in front of you. He reaches for your leggings and makes quick work of pulling them and your panties down your legs, you lifting your hips off the bed to help him out. He makes you sit up once your bottoms are discarded, and pulls your knit sweater over your head, not even bothering to take your bra off before his hands are pulling on his shirt. Once he’s taken his clothes off, he’s on top of you, using one arm to hold himself up, and the other pumping his cock a few times before moving the tip over your slick folds.

“Please.” you beg as you look up at his face, pupils blown and lips turned in an almost-pout. He licks his lips as his eyes move up from your cunt to your eyes, smirking. He doesn’t waste any more time, and he sinks into you with a breathy groan. His head falls to the crook of your neck as he buries himself to the hilt, feeling you stretching around him so perfectly. 

“Oh my god.” you whine as your hands find his shoulders. Your nails dig into his skin as he starts to move, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to his size. He fits so nicely inside of you, but you’d be lying if you said there’s not a second when he first pushes into your dripping cunt where you think that you’re too full, that you won’t get used to the feeling of all of him.

“That’s it, princess. Let me hear you.” he drawls. He picks up the pace as he begins to kiss down your neck, making sure he leaves light spots around your collar bones and tits. He loves marking you, but the last time he marked your neck, you got mad that you weren’t able to cover it up easily, so now he leaves them in places for his eyes only. 

You let out a shuttered cry when his fingers find your clit again, and your nails dig into his back more harshly, which makes him groan in a mix of pain and pleasure. He loves to be marked by you too, loves having reminders of you on his skin. He leans back to look into your eyes again, and he almost smirks when he sees you struggling to keep your eyes open, your body moving with each thrust. He looks down at your soft tummy and chest and he moans again. He loves seeing your tummy move as he fucks you; almost as much as he likes to fill your belly with his seed.

“Keep making noises like that and I won’t last long, baby.” he teases, then meets your lips in a deep kiss. His hips move in rough thrusts as his fingers circle your clit, and you know that you’re not going to last long either.

“Feels so good.” you rasp against his lips, and he smirks as he pulls back.

“Yeah? You like that, princess?” he asks in a cocky tone, feeling his high quickly approaching as he looks down at your fucked out expression. All you can do is nod as you feel the pit in your tummy growing, your words coming out in incoherent babbling.

With a few more thrusts, Evan is right on the edge, but as he’s about to pull out, you wrap your legs around his waist. He raises a brow as you look up at him, soft pleas escaping your lips.

“Come inside me. Evan, please.” you get out, keeping your legs firmly locked around him. He groans, trying not to cum right then and there. The way you say his name makes his head spin, and soon enough, he’s nodding, his hips snapping against yours with increased fervor.

“You want me to fill you up? Huh, princess?” he asks, leaning in to whisper in your ear. His thrusts are getting sloppy, and you know he’s almost there.

“Please. Fill me up.” you plead, your back arching off the bed as you feel yourself teetering on the edge.

“Come for me, baby. Let me feel you.” he grunts in your ear, and after a few more thrusts, you feel his hot cum hitting your insides. This, paired with his fingers ghosting over your clit causes you to fall over to the edge with a high pitched squeal, clenching around him as your vision goes blank. You squeeze your eyes shut as your body goes stiff, your hands still firmly on his shoulders.

“There you go, princess. God, you’re gorgeous.” he whispers against your skin. He slows his hips to a stop, staying inside of you for a minute or two as you both catch your breath. He moves his head down to the valley of your breasts, pressing soft kisses all over the skin not covered by your bra as he stays lying on top of you, and you hum happily.

After a few minutes, he finally pulls out, groaning at the sight of his cum dripping down your soft skin and onto his sheets. He grabs a towel from his closet and cleans you off carefully, pressing kisses on your plush belly as his hands moves, and once he’s done, he crawls back into bed beside you and pulls you in to lay your head on his chest.

“We can’t do this at my parents’ house.” you tease as you lay your cheek against his chest, and you smile when you feel the rumble of his laugh ripple through his chest under you.

“No? Don’t think you can keep quiet?” he replies in a similar tone, squeezing your shoulder as he holds you tightly against him. 

“I’m more worried about you.” you tell him in a serious tone. He can hear the smile in your voice, but he still rolls his eyes as he scoffs.

“Yeah, we’ll see.” he says in a quiet tone, voice trailing off as he looks up at the ceiling. 

If you’re really serious about not doing anything for two weeks, he thinks he’ll go crazy. He’s been able to have you pretty much anytime he wants for the past few months, and imagining you at your house, forbidden fruit dangling in front of him with your father around, he knows it’s going to be torture for him.

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[lukecastellanshandholder]

My new Roman Empire is the absolute visceral reaction that Luke had to the mention of his father. Like yeah, I’ve always known that he hated his dad and that his dad hurt him and his mother. But to actually see how the mention of Hermes just flipped a switch inside of him?… Do you know how much Luke had to be hurt for him to have that kind of reaction? How much pain he had to endure to show that level of rage? Because I do, and a reaction like that doesn’t come from one bad experience, something minor being blown out of proportion. No, that usually comes from countless terrible things happening to you. It comes from many very strong, very real emotions boiling over.

The amount of pain that he had to endure and still has to endure to get that reaction? That is something I will now think about constantly.

[loveanddeepthroat]

Come Home

Pairing - Sylus x f!MC

Summary - Sylus has headed out to deal with some business, leaving you concerned for him as he doesn’t return when he told you he would. Fluff and a bit of angst. Sylus and MC aren’t yet in a relationship.

Word count - 2k

A/N - Hi! This is my first little one shot for LADS, and I hope you enjoy it. I do accept requests and look forward to writing more for this fandom 🖤

It had been hours since you last heard from him.

You tried to tell yourself that you didn’t need to worry. That he was more than capable and has always returned in one piece. That your worry is wasted on him anyway, considering the fact that you weren’t even supposed to like him.

But you felt sick.

It was almost impossible not to be concerned. No matter where he was or what he was doing, he has always been reachable. You’ve tried his phone so many times that the battery eventually gave up on your futile attempts and went to sleep—which is what you should be doing at this hour. 

Mephisto had accompanied him on his outing, Luke and Kieran staying at the base with you under Sylus’s orders. They didn’t seem at all bothered by the fact that it was currently three hours past the time Sylus had told them he’d be back. They know him better than you do, but their constant reassurance did little to soothe the panic starting to show.

“Please,” you practically beg. “I have this awful feeling that something has happened to him. Please go and look for him.”

Kieran groaned at her, tired of having to repeat himself once more. “We already told you.”

“Boss’s orders are non-negotiable,” Luke chimes in from where he’s lounging in an armchair.

“He’d have our heads as soon as we walked out the door.”

You were becoming more irritated each second by their nonchalant attitude. They didn’t even seem to give a shit, and you weren’t currently in the right mindset to delve into why you gave so much of a shit.

He was a criminal. A man who had such questionable intentions and motives that you didn’t even want to know the bare minimum of what he got up to whenever he headed out alone.

If something had happened to him, however, you wanted names.

As poorly as your acquaintance with him had begun, you found him to be more intriguing with every moment spent in his presence. His likes and dislikes, his attentive nature whenever you’re around, the way he chooses a vinyl record based on the type of mood he’s in—even the way he dresses has you analysing his every six feet and two inches of pure, solid muscle.

He wasn’t bad on the eye, especially when he was looking at you. You couldn’t fully figure it out, but there was a very subtle tenderness to his presence when he was around you. Subtle in a way that didn’t overshadow his ability to be the biggest asshole you’d ever met.

“If you keep pacing like that then I’m going to throw up,” Luke complains.

You shoot him a harsh glare. “If you don’t like it then get out and find your boss,” you grit back.

With an exaggerated huff, he pulls himself out of his seat, stretching his arms over his head. You feel a glimmer of hope, only for it to be shot down almost immediately. “I’ll let you know if I pass by him in my dreams,” he teases, walking out of the lounge and towards his own room.

You wanted to drag him back and push him out of the front door, but the man could probably put you to sleep with a snap of his skilled fingers. Instead, you growl angrily as his chuckles sound from the hallway.

Kieran stood up, too, mimicking his twin with his stretching. He paused for a moment, and you waited for his addition to his brother's teasing.

“He’ll be back,” he assured, surprising you. “If he’s not back by morning, we’ll figure something out. Just go to sleep.”

He doesn’t wait for a response from you as he follows after Luke, both of them turning in for the night. Sleep sounded like pure bliss, but you weren’t going to be able to do so.

You couldn’t even sit down, your legs automatically taking you around every single piece of furniture so many times that you were starting to get dizzy. 

“Please come back,” you chanted quietly to yourself quietly, if only to keep your pacing on track and your mind alert. 

“Please come back. Please come back.”

You weren’t sure how long it had been, but as soon as you heard the front door, you bolted for it on unsteady legs.

He came in quietly, which was completely overshadowed by your crashing into things on your way to get a visual on him. You practically fell through the door that led to the entry hall, where he looked only mildly bewildered and wholly amused.

There were no visual signs of any injury, but light blood splatters dotted across his white shirt, indicating an altercation. Mephisto sat happily on his shoulder, cawing as soon as he laid his mysterious little red eyes on you. The damn bird was never too happy whenever you were around.

Sylus raised an eyebrow at you. “Expecting someone?” 

That asshole.

He dropped off the face of the earth for hours, and had the audacity to greet you with sarcasm. 

Before your brain could warn you about the threat of putting your hands on him, you sprang forward, striking his chest with the palm of your hand. Then again. And again.

It was pathetically weak from your exhaustion, and he didn’t so much as blink as you assaulted his blood-spattered shirt. Mephisto, however, took to fighting back immediately, pecking at your hands and screeching.

Sylus shooed him away quickly, and the mechanical crow reluctantly took his leave. He proceeded to just stand there as his winged companion flew away, entirely unbothered by your outburst.

Your movements were quickly faltering, the already feeble slaps to his torso becoming far and few between. Still, he did not move. Did not speak. He was the most feared man in the N109 Zone, and he was letting you lash out on him.

Your hand finally stopped on the lapel of his coat, gripping it for a second to catch your breath. He waited for you to finally take a step back, your arms crossing over your chest immediately so you could fully close in on yourself. You were certain that your little outburst was going to bring some repercussions.

Unable to fight it, your bottom lip started to tremble. You had been walking around that lounge for so long that you had convinced yourself he was not coming back. That the wrong person had finally found him and gotten the better of him.

And you just know what he would’ve said if you indulged him in that speculation. What a silly little thought, sweetie.

He closed the space between you, your head automatically dropping to avoid his crimson gaze. You couldn’t bear it, the anticipation of what he was going to do. Your ass was likely headed back to Linkon on foot.

Warm fingers curled beneath your chin, lifting your gaze back up to his. He was towering over you, but you strangely didn’t feel intimidated. All you could feel was his warmth, and your wave of emotions crashing into their withering barrier.

His face gave nothing away as he studied you, still holding your trembling chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Are you finished?”

He didn’t ask it sarcastically. He was giving you an opening. If you weren’t, he’d allow you to resume until you got it all out of your system.

But you were done, your arms feeling like jelly to the point that crossing them was taking a big effort from you. You nod, feeling wetness pooling in your eyes. This all felt ridiculous. He didn’t owe you phone calls or explanations, you both barely considered each other friends. 

The surprisingly soft pad of his thumb brushed gently across your shaking lip, his eyes following the movement. “I’m sorry.”

In any other circumstance, those two words would have shocked you enough to make you fall over. But you were a little too far on the delusional side of exhaustion, your body running on the fumes of your panic.

Your eyes flicker away, the wetness tipping over the edge and dripping off of your lashes. He turned your drifting head back to him to lock eyes with you again. He never did like it when you broke his gaze.

“Things got a bit out of hand,” he explained quietly, not needing an explanation for why you were so upset. “You shouldn’t worry.”

“I wasn’t,” you lie, earning an amused chuckle from him.

He brushed his knuckle across your cheek to rid you of your tears. “No? Why else would a kitten get her claws out, then? Did Luke and Kieran forget to feed you?”

You scoffed at his teasing, following his lead back into the ease of your strange companionship. “They’re terrible babysitters,” you say, sniffling away the last of your upset. 

He smirked, moving his hand to cup the back of your neck. He pulled you towards him, embracing you gently with a deep inhale. You almost swore he was smelling your hair, but you shut that thought down. It was far too complicated for such a tired mind to dwell over.

It wasn’t the first time you’ve both embraced, but this instance did feel quite different. It felt comforting, rather than nerve wracking. Nobody embraces a man like Sylus without at least a modicum of fear beneath the surface.

“You could have called,” you whispered. “Or…or at least answered my calls.”

He sighed, the blow of breath tickling your hairline. “There isn’t a good signal where I went tonight,” he explains. “I should have mentioned that. I didn’t want to call once I did have service in case you were sleeping. I apologise.”

An overwhelming warmth filled your chest, different to the one emanating off of his body. You look up at him, lifting a hand to his forehead. He humours you by allowing it, his eyes trained on yours as you felt the cool skin beneath the hair falling over his face.

“Are you coming down with something? You’ve apologised to me twice now,” you say, half serious.

He didn’t laugh or tease, his face slipping back into that easy nonchalant expression. “I assure you, I’m not coming down with anything. I could ask you the same thing, though. Since when did you become a worrier, kitten?”

You didn’t know how to answer that. It was something you yourself had to figure out. Caring for him wasn’t on your bingo cards when you first met. If anything, the very first day you met, you’d have been relieved if he hadn’t returned.

“Don’t get used to it,” you murmur, his smirk returning at your half-assed response.

“I’ll try, but I do get attached,” he whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear. He looks as though he’s contemplating something, and it takes a moment before he speaks again. “I’ll get us some better communication devices. Something you can carry around that I can alert you on.”

A slight sense of guilt washed over you. “No, it’s okay. You don’t need to be concerned about my insecurities, I shouldn’t be keeping tabs on you.”

Sylus shook his head, his mind already made up. He taps a finger against your temple. “My concern about what goes on in there is for me to deal with. If some better technology eases your troubles, then it eases mine too.”

There it was. That side of him that kept you so very intrigued and made you feel a sense of…home? He often used words that didn’t m quite mean the same as his intentions, but you could see it in him.

He cares.

He rubs a firm hand up and down your back before turning you around, lightly pushing you away from the front door.

“It’s about time we got some sleep,” he says, barely above a whisper. 

You let him guide you through the halls, his lips dropping to your ear as he whispered again.

“Feel free to monitor me.”

[ragingbookdragon]

“Simon,” she grunted, glaring at him from her cot; he didn’t even so much as twitch. “Simon!” she hissed louder, reaching for her boot below her. “I swear to God, I’m gonna throw my fucking boot at you.”

He shifted, rolling over, and muttered, “You throw that at me? And we’re gonna dance, little girl.”

“Then stop snoring like a goddamn bear in hibernation!” she shot back, dropping her boot. “I can’t fucking sleep when you’re ripping off the goddamn ceiling tiles like it’s your day job.”

“I think you’re exaggerating.”

“You sound like a fucking chainsaw.”

Ghost was too tired to even entertain her. “Then come over and shut me up.”

She glowered at him in the dark. “If I come over there, it’s not because I’m gonna sit on your face. I will smother you with your own fucking pillow.” She picked up her bundle of socks and chucked it at him, hitting him in the shoulder. “Stop fucking snoring or I’m gonna fix it—permanently.”

She flopped over and pulled the covers up to her neck when she felt a disturbance and cracked an eye open, gasping and almost shitting herself when she saw Ghost’s face inches from her.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” she yelped, almost falling off her cot. “Ghost, what the fuck!”

He didn’t say a single word, merely put his hands on either side of the cot and shucked a leg over the side.

“What are you doing?”

He started to put a knee in the cot.

“Don’t you fucking dare. This cot isn’t strong enough to hold us!”

He didn’t listen.

“Simon—!” she sharply inhaled when the cot creaked underneath their weight and she lay completely still, even as Simon shifted, resting his head on her chest, forearms tucked underneath her, legs hanging off the end. “I’m going to fucking murder you.”

“Mhm,” he grumbled, digging his cheek into her skin before he shut his eyes and breathed deeply, settling comfortably. “Murder tomorrow. Sleep now.”

She growled under her breath, but as the moments ticked by and Simon went slack atop her, she felt her anger dissipating, gently tucking her hands inside his hood, secured at the back of his neck, fingers brushing warm hair and skin.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to hear him snore.

[uzurakis]

Can you do like (if you want of course 😎) where like reader pushes them (jjk men) away when they tryin to give you a kiss cause you felt their mustache growin? Pretty pweaseeee😍😍😍

NOT YOUR STUBBLE, AGAIN . . .

featuring: fushiguro megumi. gojo satoru. itadori yuuji. geto suguru. nanami kento.

n. this is such an adorable prompt ughhh i love writing every single one of these, hope u do too!

the moment his skin touched yours, you instinctively pulled away, feeling the scratchy sensation of his growing stubble.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. “really? you’re rejecting me because of a little stubble?” megumi asked, slightly (and playfully) offended. he raised an eyebrow, sassiness came out from his mouth. “now you’re being dramatic, babe.”

you laughed, rubbing your cheek where his stubble had grazed it. “it’s just . . really scratchy, megumi.”

he sighed, shaking his head with a smile. “then does it really bother you that much?”

“yeah, kinda. but it does look good on you. but, again, no kisses, ‘gumi.”

“fineeee,” he slightly complained. “i can shave it off if you want.”

“you don’t have to do that just for me,” you replied, feeling a little guilty for making a fuss.

your boyfriend chuckled softly and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “if it makes you more comfortable, i don’t mind. i’d rather you enjoy my kisses than avoid them.”

ITADORI YUUJI. “aww, come on! i just wanted a kiss!” itadori whined, his expression turning adorably pitiful. he stuck out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout.

“nu-uh, not until you shave, yuu,” you explained, wiggling your index finger.

he looked genuinely confused and a bit skeptical. “are you seriously serious though? it’s that bad?” he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, clearly doubting your reaction.

“mh-mmm” you hummed, still smiling at his cute pout.

itadori sighed dramatically, his shoulders slumping as if you had denied him his greatest wish. “i guess i’ll just have to shave then,” he said, still pouting but with an amusing glint written over. “just wait here, i’ll be back in a flash!”

well, at least you know itadori yuuji would do anything for your kisses . .

GOJO SATORU. “ughhh, satoru, your damn stubble!”

gojo’s eyes widened as a small chuckle fell from his lips, intentionally. “oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” he said, a grin spreading across his face.

“it is!” you insisted, laughing despite yourself. “it’s like kissing sandpaper.”

his grin turned into a challenging smirk. “oh, really? let’s see if you can resist me now,” he teased, leaning in closer.

you tried to back away, but gojo was relentless. he put on an exaggerated, over-the-top seductive voice, drawing out his words dramatically. “you can’t resist me foreverrr,” he purred, inching closer with each word.

you couldn’t help but laugh at his antics, but still, you tried to push him away gently. “satoru, stop! your stubble, seriously!”

but gojo wasn’t having any of it. he continued to lean in, his lips hovering just above yours. “c’monnn, just oneee kissss,” he pleaded, and once more, you have to succumb into his charms.

GETO SUGURU. suguru’s expression immediately shifted to one of exaggerated drama. he clutched his chest as if mortally wounded. “okay, i see how it is baby,” he declared, standing up and moving to the other side of the room with a dramatic flourish. “my stubble and i will just be over here.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at his theatrics. he stood in the corner, pretending to sulk, but you caught the glint of a smirk as he glanced back at you over his shoulder. “so my stubble has betrayed me . . ” he said, voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

rolling your eyes as you tucked in a smile, you continued. “oh, come on, suguru . .”

he turned back towards you, his fake sulking replaced with a cheeky grin. “guess i’ll have to make up for it later, huh?” he said, winking at you with a smile.

despite your earlier complaint, you felt a flutter of anticipation at his words. you couldn’t deny that deep down, you wanted to kiss him, stubble or not. “we’ll see about that,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light.

“or you simply have to get used to it, baby.”

NANAMI KENTO. “hmm, i knew i should’ve shaved this morning,” he said, a hint of self-mockery in his voice. he looked at you, testing the waters with a tad wit. “does this mean no more kisses until i shave?”

you laughed softly, still feeling the lingering itch of the hairs. “maybe just a little less enthusiastic with the kisses until then,” you teased, giving him a light push.

nanami’s smile widened, and he made a mental note to remember to shave next time. “noted,” he said with a nod. the man leaned back slightly, still holding your gaze. “but surely, there are other ways i can make it up to you?”

you raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “oh? and what did you have in mind, kento?”

he leaned in closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “well, i could start with a back massage,” he suggested, his fingers already moving to gently knead your shoulders. whatever happened next, perhaps you've already forgotten about nanami’s stubble-trouble.

@uzurakis

[dragonsholygrail]

Do Hybrid!Readers count?

I’m thinking of a monster Reader being kept for research purposes and catching the attention of the newest hire. Cheeky, beastly Reader with an awkward, nerdy scientist who unsuccessfully tries to hide his infatuation. He stares for too long, finds pathetic excuses to work overtime, and pretends to be deeply interested in whatever topic involves Reader. Lately, he’s been spotted reading a book about Reader’s kind, particularly mating habits. For, uh, science, mind you.

Alternatively, it can be a human Reader in a monster lab. I just found the dynamic funny. :)

Aaaah, yes yes! It definitely counts, I love this sorta dynamic. It can be really hilarious and a ton of fun ^_^

None of the Scientists in the lab could really figure you out. You were a giant beast who appeared naturally incredibly threatening. So all the scientists had been a bit hesitant to get in close and really figure out what kind of Hybrid you were exactly.

But they just had to. Because for some reason, some idiot had accidently leaked to the press that they had you in custody. Before they knew it there were countless pictures and articles plastered all over the internet about you. People wanted answers and they sadly had to be the ones to get them. So they brought in a specialist.

The young Scientist stared up at you in awe the first time he met you. He couldn’t actually believe he was meeting you up close. He didn’t know how to react. In fact, he didn’t know anything at all when it came to you. You see, he wasn’t actually a hybrid specialist. He was a scientist, that part was true! Everything else may have been a slight exaggeration on his application.

He just wanted to see you so so bad. He had to. The moment he saw those pictures of you he knew the two of you were meant to be. You were the reason he had never totally clicked with humans, couldn’t keep a partner, and had never fallen in love. His heart was waiting for you.

And now that he was with you, he needed to know everything about you. Not only to sate his own desire but also, ya know, to keep his job. Or else some foolish human might try and separate him from you again. It left him fawning over you constantly, watching you all day everyday, always staying late just so he could be alone with you for a couple hours, and butting in whenever someone tried to talk about you. Because of course he knew you best.

His growing knowledge of you left him convinced you were nearing your heat. Your restless behavior. The way you kept banging against the glass trying to get to him. Over the weeks you had noticed his interest and his care and yours had grown just as much. You had chosen him as your mate and he wanted to be there for you.

The only thing he could think to do was read books on mating behaviors. Of just about every single Hybrid species you could possible be.

Stacks of books surround him in the lab. His interest of you hadn’t gone unnoticed by the others. Not by a long shot. But they brushed off his strange behavior if jt kept him closer to you and them farther away. They avoid him now too, looking at him like the absolute freak he is as they realize what he’s reading.

Their worry doesn’t decrease when he later explains how you need to mate soon in order to keep you in check. They look at him like he’s truly gone insane and maybe he has. The wild look in his eye has only grown more intense the more he’s been around you without truly being with you.

He convinces them with the idea that you’ll be better after you’ve mated. Easier to handle. More open to having experiments done on you while your body is sated and exhausted after being fucked for hours on end. While in reality, from what he’s studied, the opposite is true.

He doesn’t plan on letting them go anywhere within a mile of you. Not with injections, chemicals, and especially not with their grubby little hands. No, only he can touch you. Only he deserves to be near your beauty and grace.

After you mate with him you’re going to be even more wild and destructive, your instincts inflamed and ready to fight. He’s gonna use that to get you two out of that lab if it’s the last thing he does.

Meanwhile the other scientists don’t suspect a thing as they stand a safe distance away from the cage as it opens to let the young scientist inside. The metal door snaps shut once he’s inside and he feels like he can finally breathe now that there’s nothing keeping you two a part.

Mirroring smirks grow on your faces, your expressions speaking of a secret just between the two of you. And as you both finally meet each other in a passionate embrace, you know this will be a wild night that will end with your freedom and a mate by your side.

[donatellawritings]

if requests(?) are open what do you think about bff!rafe whos absolutely down bad for reader ☺️

bff!rafe is honestly the most obsessive man ever and has no sense of boundaries ngl

truth be told, you and rafe haven’t even known each other that long, barely a year, to be exact. when you had moved into the pretty little baby blue house that overlooked the busy docks and calm waters, rafe had just made his long overdue return to figure 8. you were fresh out of college, and as free as a baby bird — with a somewhat matured rafe who was patiently waiting on the perfect moment to swoop in and teach you to to fly — his way.

you see, rafe was the man of his family now, and as the leading man of the cameron lineage, he had no choice, but to become painfully aware of the damage he could cause. you shared the likeness of a baby deer — naive, dainty, and a little too welcoming … much to your own detriment, at times.

so, rafe took it upon himself to take you under his wing, making sure that he always had you in his line of vision. i mean, if he didn’t look out for you, who knows what kind of trouble you’d get into? which is exactly why he settled for being your best friend in the whole world, as you like to say — that is, until you’d finally snap out of the pink tinted dreamland you seemed to live in, and realize that you were better off just being his — being rafe’s girl.

“y’wanna try some?” you hummed, your manicured hand holding out the wand of your new tube of dior gloss as you mushed your swollen lips together, puckering your now shimmery lips in the mirror as you adored your new lipgloss.

met with silence, you rolled your eyes as rafe remained stood tall and authoritative behind you, his eyebrows furrowed as he fiddled with the collar of his polo shirt, “c’mon, kid — don’t have time to play games,” he shrugged his shoulders, before nudging the side of your jaw with the side of his ringed finger.

to anyone who wasn’t aware of your unique dynamic with rafe — the sight of a young girl dressed in nothing, but a mesh bralette that displayed her hard nipples and tiny silk shorts that sucked up into her ass, a bit bent over a vanity with a much taller man’s tented crotch ghosting right behind the curve of her ass, would be pretty incriminating.

but, in your eyes, it was just you and rafey, your very best friend in the entire world.

leaning back onto the balls of your sore feet, you completely missed the way rafe took in the ripple of your asscheeks as you let out an entitled huff, “i don’t want to go golfing,” you mumble, your arms crossed firmly across your swelled tits as you send rafe a bratty frown in the mirror.

mocking your bratty behavior with an exaggerated pout, rafe lets out a feigned whimper, “aw, baby doesn’t wanna hang out with rafey anymore?”

shoving the gloss-coated wand into the tube, you toss it onto the vanity, your bouncy blown-out hair whipping against rafe’s chest as you push your weak palm into rafe’s hard torso, earning another condescending laugh from the blue-eyed man, “i don’t want to hang out with you, anymore,” you announce, eyes glazed with frustrated tears.

“y’sure? got lots of pretty girls who would love for me to be their best friend,” rafe cocks his head to the side, a knowing smirk tugging on his pink lips as he watches you carefully think about your next words.

with a hesitant nod, you sniffle, “i’m sure.”

“okay — i’ll miss you, princess,”

your doe eyes widened with genuine concern as rafe pressed a kiss to the top of your hair, before taking a few steps backwards from you, turning to reach for the handle of your bedroom door. he can’t leave — you were only kidding!

“stop! i was just kidding,” you panic, perky tits bouncing as you rush over to rafe who is biting back a cocky grin.

forcing a solemn expression, rafe gently raised a ringed hand to hold your jaw, “can’t joke like that, huh? almost made me get a new best friend, pretty girl,” rafe twists the knife, his stomach growing warm and fluttery as he watches you lightly bounce on your feet, before accepting your outstretched arms as he carries you back to your pillow and squishmallow-covered bed.

“sleep over?” you questioned sweetly.

“of course, kid.”

｡⋆୨୧˚

wet lip smacks and muffled moans filled the four walls of your bedroom as you laid semi-underneath a now shirtless rafe. one leg hooked over his hip as your hands cupped each side of his strained neck. your puffy lips were nearly raw and tingly from rafe’s constant suckling and nipping at your mouth. rafe’s hand kept a light grip on your throat as he kept you engrossed in the slippery kiss, tongues dancing together wildly as rafe fucked your mouth with his.

pushing out a sleepy whine, you said your delicate hand to rafe’s collarbone, gently pushing, “rafey — m’lips hurt,” your words were jumbled as rafe groaned into your mouth, his lips continuing their relentless assault.

your sloppy little makeout sessions with rafe were a common find when it came to spending a day with him, and you didn’t see anything wrong with it — i mean, he was your best friend forever, he would never steer you in the wrong direction.

shutting you up with a slip of his tongue inside of your mouth, rafe’s hand sliding to cup your cheek as you are quick to wraps your swollen lips around his slippery tongue, gently suckling the pink muscle. you continued sucking on his tongue for a few more minutes, your mixed spit shining on the corners of your mouths and messily smeared on your chins from wet lips.

sliding a calloused, ring-clad hand to cup your soft ass underneath the silk of your shorts, rafe patted two light slaps to your skin, earning a needy moan from you as your wrapped your slick lips around his tongue once more, in a sealing kiss, “sorry — y’taste good,” you mumbled, your sore lips pulled into a sorry little pout as rafe nods knowingly, gently pulling your head to lean against his chest.

rafe never missed the way you gazed up at him, your doll eyes sparkling with adoration and respect — you never judged him, and he appreciated that.

“s’okay, kid.” he responded, mushing your cherub cheeks as your lips remain in a silly smile.

you really had the bestest friend in the whole world!

[xo100]

Stirring up love - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: Lando Norris discovers the joy of cooking and quiet moments with you, cherishing the love and connection that grows through your shared, intimate experiences in the kitchen.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1586

୨ৎ

Lando had never been the type to spend much time in the kitchen. The idea of cooking had always seemed like such a hassle, something to be avoided by a simple click on his phone. With his busy schedule as an F1 driver and the constant whirlwind of travel, press, and races, takeout had always been the go-to. But then, you came into his life, and suddenly, everything changed.

He wasn’t sure when exactly it had started, but somewhere in the first few months of dating, he found himself gravitating toward the kitchen more and more. It wasn’t because he’d suddenly discovered a passion for cooking—though he did find himself enjoying it now—it was because of you. Watching you cook had become one of his favorite things, an act so simple yet so intimate that he couldn’t get enough of it.

-

It was a Tuesday evening, and the warm, golden light from the setting sun was flooding through the windows of your shared apartment. You were at the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables with an effortless grace that Lando admired. He sat at the kitchen island, chin resting on his hand, eyes following your every movement. There was something calming about the way you moved in the kitchen—confident, sure, like you belonged there.

“You're staring,” you teased, not even looking up from your chopping.

Lando grinned, the kind of boyish smile that always made your heart skip a beat. “Can’t help it,” he replied, his voice soft and warm. “You’re mesmerizing.”

You glanced at him, playfully rolling your eyes, but the smile tugging at the corner of your lips gave you away. “I’m just chopping vegetables, Lando.”

“Yeah, but you make it look like art,” he said, slipping off his stool to come closer. His hands found your waist as he stood behind you, pulling you against him gently. His chin came to rest on your shoulder, and you felt his breath tickling the side of your neck.

“Are you trying to distract me?” you asked, even though the warmth of his embrace was something you welcomed.

“Maybe.” His voice was low, a soft murmur against your ear. “Is it working?”

You laughed, leaning back against him for just a moment before turning your attention back to the cutting board. “Not really. You’re going to have to try harder.”

Lando chuckled, his arms wrapping a little tighter around your waist as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “I could help you, you know,” he offered, even though both of you knew he wasn’t much of a cook.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Oh yeah? You, Mr. Takeout, are going to help me cook dinner?”

“Hey,” he protested with mock indignation, “I’ve improved! I can, like, chop stuff now. And mix things.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the proud tone in his voice. “Alright, alright,” you said, stepping out of his embrace to hand him a second cutting board and a knife. “You can chop the garlic then.”

Lando took the knife with a playful salute, determined to prove himself useful. He positioned himself next to you, glancing at your precise movements before starting on his own task. His chopping was a little slower, a little less smooth, but the concentration on his face was endearing.

After a few minutes, he nudged you with his elbow, and when you looked up, he gave you a cheeky smile. “Look, I’m basically a pro now.”

You glanced at his pile of somewhat unevenly chopped garlic and smiled. “Not bad, Norris.”

“Not bad?” he echoed, pretending to be offended. “That’s not the level of praise I was expecting.”

You turned to face him, hands resting on your hips as you gave him an exaggerated once-over. “Okay, okay. You’re amazing. Master chef level, even.”

Lando grinned, looking satisfied with your compliment as he set the knife down. “That’s more like it,” he teased, before pulling you into his arms again. You didn’t protest this time, letting him hold you close as the smell of garlic and spices filled the air.

Moments like these were Lando’s favorite. Not the loud, fast-paced moments of race weekends or the excitement of podium finishes. No, this—these quiet, domestic moments, where it was just the two of you, where everything felt so simple and right—this was what he treasured. There was something about the way you fit so perfectly into his life that amazed him. You made even the most mundane things, like cooking dinner, feel special.

“You know,” he started, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your back, “I never really liked cooking before you.”

You hummed softly, your hands resting on his chest as you looked up at him. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, his eyes soft and full of affection. “I used to just order food all the time. Even when I was with someone else, it was just easier to let someone else cook or grab takeout.”

Your curiosity piqued at the mention of his past relationships, but you knew Lando wasn’t one to dwell on the past. He had moved on, and so had you. Still, there was something about the way he spoke that made you want to know more. “So, what changed?”

Lando smiled, his thumb brushing along your cheek. “You did.”

His words were so simple, yet they carried so much weight. You felt a warmth spread through your chest, the kind that only Lando could make you feel. “Me?”

“Yeah,” he said softly, his gaze never leaving yours. “With you, I like being in the kitchen. I like cooking with you, being close to you, doing these little things together. It makes me feel… happy. Like I’ve got something good, you know?”

You could feel your heart swelling at his words. It wasn’t often that Lando was this open with his feelings, but when he was, it hit you like a wave. You smiled, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips, the kind of kiss that was full of unspoken promises and shared love.

“I like cooking with you too, Norris,” you whispered against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss for just a moment before pulling back. “Even if you are just chopping garlic.”

He laughed softly, his forehead resting against yours. “Hey, it’s an important job. Someone’s gotta do it.”

“Sure, sure,” you teased, but there was no denying the affection in your voice. You loved these moments with him, the playful banter, the lazy touches, the way he made you feel like the most important person in the world.

The two of you stood there for a while, wrapped up in each other, content in the warmth of the kitchen and the quiet rhythm of your lives together. It was peaceful, the kind of peace that Lando hadn’t realized he’d been missing until you came along.

Eventually, though, the food on the stove demanded attention, and with a soft sigh, you reluctantly pulled away from him. “Okay, okay, back to work,” you said, though the smile on your face made it clear you weren’t complaining.

Lando pouted dramatically but didn’t argue. “Fine. But I get to taste test everything.”

“Deal,” you agreed with a laugh as you returned to the stove. You could feel Lando’s eyes on you again as you worked, but this time, you didn’t mind. There was something about the way he watched you, so full of admiration and affection, that made you feel like the most special person in the world.

As the meal came together, Lando continued to sneak up behind you, stealing quick kisses or wrapping his arms around your waist whenever he got the chance. It was like he couldn’t keep his hands off you, and honestly, you didn’t mind. There was something so comforting about the way he held you, like he couldn’t get enough of being close to you.

-

Eventually, the two of you sat down to eat, and as you shared a meal you had made together, Lando couldn’t help but think about how perfect it all felt. The food, the company, the quiet moments in between bites where you’d share a soft smile or a playful comment. This was what he loved—these little moments that made everything else in life feel worth it.

After dinner, the two of you curled up on the couch, your head resting on his chest as his fingers ran absentmindedly through your hair. The TV was on, but neither of you were really watching, too wrapped up in the quiet comfort of being together.

“Thank you,” Lando said softly after a while, his voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?” you asked, tilting your head up to look at him.

“For this,” he gestured vaguely, but you knew what he meant. “For making everything better. For making me want to do things I never thought I’d enjoy. For just… being you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you pressed a soft kiss to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your lips. “I love you, Lando,” you whispered, your voice full of sincerity.

“I love you too,” he replied, his arms tightening around you just a little bit more. And in that moment, with you in his arms and the quiet hum of the world around you, Lando knew that he had everything he needed.

Because with you, everything was perfect.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, I hope y’all enjoyed! Also thank you so much for the support on my other stories!

[anastasiabowe]

𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙏𝘼𝙐𝙂𝙃𝙏 𝙃𝙄𝙈 𝙒𝙃𝘼𝙏?! — Toji your MMA fighting husband wasn’t a man of pure morals. He often teaches his son, Megumi, not so great things for a little child, and you got a taste of what he was teaching him, and you were not happy.

note: Enjoy

Content warnings: Language and swearing in front of a child

Soft thumping grew louder as little Megumi waddled himself down to the basement, or your home gym. Toji put the weights back on the rack, since he was ending his morning workout. He looked up and saw his little boy walk up to him.

Megumi looked up as high as he could to make eye contact with his dad.

“What’s up, bud?” Toji grabbed the towel near by, and ruffled his hair with it, trying to dry the sweat that was dripping from his hair.

“Can I ask you something?” The little raspy voice confidently spoke.

“Sure, what is it?” Toji sat down on the bench, and pulled the boy onto his knee.

“What do you do when the bad guys you fight make-" megumi coughed, "make you mad?”

Toji stared blankly at his son. Where was he going with this?

"bad guys?" Toji asked the little boy.

"yeah! Bad guys, the guys you fight!" He pushed his little fists out into the air to kick the little clips you've shown him of his dad during a match.

“Why?” Toji asked skeptical.

“Just curious.” he blinked so innocently.

“Why?” Toji asked again.

“Can you just answer?” The little boy whined and sighed heavily, making Toji want to laugh.

“Well, when they make me upset, I usually use that anger to fight them.”

Megumi rolled his eyes. “I already know that, daddy. But what do you do?”

Toji thought carefully. Should he be blunt, should he sugar coat it?

“Well, I usually try and knock them to their feet to weaken them, then try and knock them out.”

“Can you show me?” Megumi smiled thinking about how cool his dad was.

“On you?” Toji looked at the mini him.

Megumi shrugged and hopped off his lap.

Toji laughed and stood up. He walked Megumi over to the mat that covered the entirety of the floor. Toji got into a fighting stance, encouraging Megumi to copy.

Once Megumi was in “position” Toji softly kicked his foot into Megumi a left leg that he was pushing his weight on and made the little boy fall out of balance.

Megumi giggled, and Toji helped the little boy up to his feet.

“Again!”

“Nah, let me show you something else.”

Once Megumi was in position again, Toji brought his fists very gently to megumi’s jaw. He lightly tapped there with his fist and said,

“I usually try to hit here. Yeah it can break someone’s jaw, but I prefer to win, and winning isn’t always the nicest way. But if anyone makes you upset, just give them a little punch here, and you’ll be the coolest kid on the block, okay?”

Megumi smiled, and punched his dad in the abdomen. Although his tiny fists didn’t even land enough impact for a sting, Toji pretended like it hurt, and fell to the ground, Megumi jumping and punching on his dad.

-

-

-

“Megumi baby, come up to eat!” You called down the stairs, and you heard him yell a little “okay!”

“Toji, you too!”

“I’ll be up there in a minute, I got to finish my workout!” Toji lied. He truthfully just wanted to be down there and watch his opponent for his upcoming match latest fight, get some details on him, but he didn't want to hear you lecture him on how he should save his research for when he's at work.

Megumi soon came up for lunch, and you gave him his plate of Mac and cheese, with applesauce and mixed vegetables.

Megumi gratefully ate only the apple sauce and Mac and cheese.

You thought the vegetable hatred from kids was an exaggeration because you never had any problems with it, but here is your own child outright refusing to eat his veggies.

“Megumi. This is not a game, eat your vegetables or you don’t get any dessert today.” Megumi rolled his eyes, making you scoff. He was turning into his father.

“Megumi..” you warned. He only challenged you more by sticking his tongue out.

“No iPad for 2 days.”

Megumi still held his ground. You clicked your nails on the table across from him, waiting for those broccoli, peas, corn and carrots to be eaten.

“We will sit here until you eat them.”

“Bite me.” Megumi bit back. If he wasn’t a little kid that you loved too much, he wouldn’t even know what was coming for him.

“Excuse me?” You looked at him in disbelief. You stood up and walked around the table and sat next to him. You grabbed his fork and stabbed the vegetables.

“Open your mouth. You want to act like a a baby, I will treat you like one.” You moved the fork closer to his mouth, he turned his face and you were becoming angrier by the second.

“Open. Your mouth.” Your voice was as stern as it was going to be, and here is your child not fearing you at all.

You grabbed his face as gently as you could, but strong enough to force open his mouth. You quickly tried to put the fork into his mouth but then you felt a solid fist hit your jaw, and it hurt (somewhat).

Megumi just punched you in the jaw. You grabbed your jaw and dropped the fork onto the table.

Tears welled in your eyes, not from pain, but from the shock and anger from your child just hitting you.

Megumi’s face was full of fear and regret, and you only clenched your jaw.

Fucking Toji always teaching him shit. You took a deep breath and stood up calmly. You grabbed megumi’s wrist and dragged him with you as you made your way down to the basement.

“Toji fucking fushiguro.” You yelled out to your husband when you finally made it to the basement ground. He looked up from his phone, and your anger was illuminating from you.

You angrily stopped walking, Megumi hiding behind you.

“What the fuck did you teach Megumi?!” Toji looked between you and Megumi, and he was actually so confused.

“What do you mean ‘what did I teach megumi’? What the hell are you talking about?” Toji pulled out his AirPod, and you wanted to light something on fire.

“Did you teach him to hit his mom or is that all on him?” Toji scoffed knowing where this is coming from.

“Megumi.” Toji’s voice growled as Megumi gripped harder onto your sweat pants.

“Come here.” Toji’s voice was now deeper and more demanding. It wasn’t loud nor condescending, it was rather scarily calm.

Megumi slowly came from behind you, and you crossed your arms, ready to hear what he was going to say.

“Megumi, did you hit mommy?” Toji softly grabbed the little boy’s hands and pulled him closer. He looked down at his feet. “Look at me when I am speaking to you.” Toji cleared his throat.

“I didn’t mean to, she was making me mad!” Megumi tried to excuse. You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. Toji looked up at you, and you licked your lips, calming yourself down. He was only 5.

“Megumi, you know you can’t just hit people when you’re mad, especially mommy.” Megumi whispered a little “I know.”

“I don’t think you do.” Toji tightened his grip on his hands a little. “If you think what I taught you today is an excuse for when you’re mad, it wasn’t. It should only be applied for my circumstance with professional practice. I'm sorry if what I said confused you, but you do not just hit people when you're mad, I don’t just hit people when I’m mad, I know how to and when to, you don’t.”

Megumi’s eyes were wide with tears welling in them. Toji couldn’t help but think how much he looked like you right now. You both made the same face when you're sad.

“I’m sorry.” Megumi softly said.

“Don’t apologize to me.” Toji let go of megumi’s hands and megumi softly turned around. He rushed over to you and hugged your legs, wiping his teary face into your sweats.

“I’m sorry mommy! I shouldn’t have hit you! I promise I won’t ever never ever hit anyone again!” You smiled softly, picking up the little boy.

“Mommies not mad anymore, baby. I just want you to grow big and strong by eating your veggies, that’s all. So are you going to finish your vegetables for me?”

Megumi sniffled and nodded. You kissed his face repeatedly making him giggle.

Toji stood up and followed you both. After all, it was lunch time.

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (part 7)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

-

You watch him like a hawk after that. 

Not because anything’s changed. In fact, nothing’s changed. Seeing him drag a man by the collar of his shirt, the look in his eyes punishing and severe, has only confirmed the essential imbalance in your relationship. You don’t suffer the same fate as that man being dragged from the bar not because of mercy or leniency or forgiveness, but because the truth hasn’t yet come out. You’re safe because the truth is still hidden, a fact that could change at the drop of a hat. 

The thought makes you wary. You watch John in the days after with a scrutiny that borders on the paranoid. Does he already know? Has he left you stewing in ignorance all this time while waiting for the proper authorities to arrive? When he looks at you, does he see the blood on your hands? Does he know that he’s looking at a murderer? Does he know that your sins weigh on you like heavy stones dragging you down into the earth?

Every time the porch steps creak, your heart turns to stone and betrayal rushes up your throat like acid, and it burns. 

Then the door opens and John walks in. His face lights up when his eyes fall on you. “Hi darlin’.”

All you can do is let out a shuddering breath and slump into his embrace. 

You’re waiting for it to happen. Even when he pulls you into his chest at night, a big arm settled around your waist and his palm spread wide over your belly, you tense and wait for the truth to come out. But all he does is sigh and fall asleep, tucking you closer into his chest. You stare at the wall until the grooves between the wooden boards start to expand, the darkness encompassing every inch of the wall before bleeding down to the floorboards and up to the ceiling. Then you wake up and it’s the next day. 

The truth is imminent. It shines its light on the darkened path before it and stalks forward. You cower in the shadows waiting for it to find you, hopeful that it won’t. Sure that it will. 

There’s never a good moment to pack your bags and leave, and the longer you stay—as the days turn into a week since you first disembarked from the train and wandered into a town soaked in russet and red—the harder it seems to get a moment of peace. Though John wasn’t exaggerating when he said that a sheriff’s job never stops, you hadn’t thought that it would involve so much. 

Between chores and John and the townsfolk, you can’t get a moment to yourself. The closest you come to it is when Kate leaves you to your thoughts while she helps the customers. Even then, she still comes by every now and again to offer you a tea or brandy ball to suck on. 

You resent the idea that you need to be babysat, but he isn’t exactly wrong either. You’re not too stubborn to admit that. Under Kate’s watchful eye, you aren’t scurrying off anywhere. Instead, you help out around the shop where you can, offering to stock the shelves and sweep the floors. On occasion, you even get on your hands and knees in front of the shop to pull up the weeds, but that draws more attention than you’re comfortable with. They simply aren’t as concerned with weeds out here.

Most of your time is spent loitering around town waiting for John to take you home. Sometimes you join him for the day, trailing along after him when he goes out to collect the taxes or you accompany him when he has to attend trials and hearings in the court house, where you sit quietly in the public gallery and watch in rapt attention as the magistrate conducts the court proceedings, but there are days where that’s simply not possible.

“You’re gonna spend the day with Laswell, alright?” John tells you, pinching your chin to tilt your head up. 

He loves that little gesture, you’ve realized. Loves to touch you and guide you with a hand on your back or chin or arm, a hand brushing down the side of your waist to pull you in, gripping you by the nape of your neck just to hold. Even now, in broad daylight and in front of the window to the general store where anyone could look out and see the two of you, he keeps his thumb there, reluctant to let you go. The thought makes your neck go hot.

“When will you be back?” you ask.

“Later this afternoon—before dusk, so don’t go worrying about heading home without me. I have to see to something a few towns over.”

“Oh…what do they need you for?”

John frowns. “You’ve got an awful lot of questions today.”

“Never mind. Have a safe trip.” You don’t know why his reluctance to tell you anything frustrates you so, especially when he has good reason to, but even you can hear the way your voice grows petulant. 

His thumb squeezes against your chin, holding your head in place when you try to turn away. “I’m overseeing a hanging. Couple of men were found guilty of murder.” He studies you so intensely that he can practically see in your eyes the way your stomach turns at that. “See, I thought that might upset you. This is why I didn’t wanna tell you, darlin’.”

“It’s fine,” you say, swallowing. “I’m a big girl.”

“Yeah,” John agrees, brushing his thumb up your chin until it tugs at your bottom lip, watching the way it snaps back into place when he releases it. 

He makes every moment feel like a last goodbye and a homecoming. You almost can’t meet his eyes under the intensity of his stare, but you also can’t look away. Not with how he looks at you like some precious thing. 

You expect it before it happens, but when he dips his head to plant a soft kiss on your lips, you go breathless for a moment. His beard is bristly against your skin, just south of coarse. The kiss turns into another, even more tender than the first. You resent the way you lean forward when he pulls away, chasing after him. 

“You be good for Miss Kate, okay?” he says, waiting for your reassurance. 

“I will,” you rasp, mortified at how easily he unravels you and how plainly you let it show. John grins when he hears the tremble in your voice. 

Then he leaves, riding off towards where the horizon dips below the visible and you watch until he disappears completely, falling away with it. Kate beckons you inside after that, and it’s just hot enough out that you gather up the skirt of your dress and follow after her, climbing up the steps to the general store.

Kate is a tough nut to crack. She’s kind and never rebuffs your questions when you make conversation, but she also isn’t exactly forthcoming with personal information. She seems more than happy to let the conversation lapse into silence. When there isn’t a customer to serve, she’ll take out a leather-bound notebook and write, going so deep into her own thoughts that you sometimes need to call her name a couple times before she’ll respond. 

“Kate,” you say again, waiting for her to finally blink and look up, which she does with only the faintest glimmer of impatience in her eyes. “Care to join me on a walk? I need to stretch my legs and…well, I don’t know my way around just yet.”

She snaps her book shut, winding a bit of string around it before placing it back beneath the counter. “There’s a restaurant on the other side of town if you care for a bite as well. I could do with something to eat.”

It’s not as much of a walk as you might have expected. You learn along the way that Kate has lived in town for several years, taking the shop over from her predecessor, a former employer prone to drinking and prone to expiring from that very same vice. She speaks of him with familiarity and affection for the dead, but none of the longing and misery that you’ve come to expect from someone grieving a loss.

“You came far just to find a husband,” she remarks when the two of you are seated at a windowside booth in the restaurant. She spreads a cloth over her lap and you follow her lead. 

You bite your lip. “I’ve heard good things about the frontier.”

Kate looks amused by that. “Now who’s been lying to you?”

You laugh, half genuine and half to keep the atmosphere light. You don’t tell her that no one lied to you about going out west because no one had said those words to you in the first place. There hadn’t been enough time for a conversation after the event, only enough time to unlock the study door and wash your hands of the blood in the sink downstairs before fleeing the manor with only your purse and cardigan, the feather duster still lying on the floor upstairs. You hadn’t even bothered going home.

There’s no telling what your aunt and uncle must have thought. You try not to think about that because there’s no going back now. You had the luxury of a single cry on the train as it chugged away from the station and the day slipped into night, but nothing more than that and nothing since. 

You tuck into your food when the waitress comes back with your meal.

“John said you were a schoolteacher before this?” Kate says, pulling you back into the conversation. 

It makes you nervous to lie too much about a subject you hardly know, so you smile and nod instead of responding. 

“You must be quite the polymath,” she continues, eyes downcast, not allowing you a good read on her. “Arithmetic, writing, history—goodness knows the skills one needs nowadays with the leaps and bounds in education. Thank goodness for the Common School reformers, giving women the opportunity to develop young minds.”

“Yes,” you croak, then clear your throat. “I certainly did my best to…educate the children.” 

Comical, given that you’d dropped out of school at the age of fourteen to work in a factory sewing buttons onto shirts. 

“And was the profession enjoyable? I know John mentioned you were keener on starting a family than continuing on as an instructor, but was it an informative experience?”

“Oh yes, it was. I enjoyed it. Immensely.”

“It must have been nice to work in a profession with such little turmoil.”

“I couldn’t have asked for better,” you agree, your smile tight now, wavering only a bit at the corners. 

Kate stares at you for a beat too long. It makes your stomach hurt and you fight against the urge to wilt under her stare. You can’t imagine you’ve said something wrong with how little you’ve said, but her stare makes your skin crawl. 

Finally, she smiles, the skin around her eyes creasing. “Well, that’s just lovely to hear.”

You put the conversation out of your mind on the walk back, sure that you must have imagined the flicker in her eyes. 

John comes back earlier than you expected. You swear your heart jolts in your chest when you hear the sound of a horse whinnying outside the shop out of nowhere and a man’s low, rough voice responding back, soothing it. You hear the sound of dismount, boots hitting the ground hard, and then come up the steps, each step making the spurs on the back of his boots rattle. 

When he opens the door, his eyebrows jump up at the sight of you already there waiting. Your eagerness should embarrass you, and it does, but there’s not much you can do about it, and there’s even less you can do about the way you melt when he says, “There you are, darlin’. Time to go home.”

Precious is the world where home has come to mean something tender and soft, even as much as you’ve pushed against it. You still hold fast against the notion, steeling yourself when John helps you up onto Buttercup and follows suit, riding home at almost a gallop. You hear his laughter on the wind when you yelp and nearly slide off, his arm around you the only thing holding you in place. 

“It’d be easier to ride if I had pants,” you complain when you dismount, hands pressed to his shoulders when he helps you down. “How do women even ride sidesaddle on their own?”

“Plenty of women do, darlin’. It’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“We can get you pants if you need them so badly,” John says, looking up to the sky like Lord help me suffer this woman. “But that means I’ll be teaching you how to ride Buttercup on your own. Think you can handle that?”

You balk at the thought. “…Let me think about it.”

He snorts. “You do that.”

He leaves you to your thoughts when he takes the horses out to the paddock for a bit. 

You sit out on the porch and watch the sunset while the horses run around the pen, soaking in the last hour of daylight. Overhead, clouds as big as mountains pass, heavy like an oil painting. Off in the distance, you can see thick clouds blotting out the sky entirely, the belly of them split open and letting out a downpour of biblical proportions. You only grow a bit nervous when you notice the wall of rain moving closer to your house with the wind, inching forward more every minute.

It’s not long before John notices it too. He whistles for the horses and waits until they trot back over to the gate, fixing the lead to their mantles again and leading them one by one back into the stable. A light drizzle begins to pour. It churns up the dust and dirt when it hits the ground, scenting the air with the fragrant smell of earth.

You head over to the stable as John brings in the last horse, hovering by the door while you watch him run his hand down Buttercup’s muzzle, whispering softly to her. If he notices your presence, he doesn’t acknowledge it, his attention focused solely on her. 

It gives you a chance to admire him from the back. Thick thighs in indigo jeans that seem almost painted on. Shirt tucked into his jeans, stretched taut at the shoulders; dark droplets of rain drying already. The dusting of hair on the back of his neck. You can see the fine lines on his forehead and in the corner of his eye from the side angle and it reminds you again that he’s older and more weathered than you, settled into his age rather than floundering in it. 

“It’s raining,” you say, just to have something to say. You shrink under his gaze when he turns towards you, faint amusement in his eyes.

“I noticed.”

You cringe at that, aware that he knows. He’s the one that brought the horses in after all. There’s just something in you that feels compelled to open your mouth when he’s around. An impulse that makes you cheep like a bird. 

“Looks like a bad one,” you mutter instead of shutting your mouth, instead of hightailing it back to the house and shutting all the windows to keep the rain from coming in. Useless girl. 

“Probably rain all night,” John says, squinting out at the sky through the open door. It’s darker now, a storm brewing. 

“Is there…is there anything we have to do? To get ready?” You don’t know why you say we like this is a partnership, but it comes unbidden and you know if he told you to hurry back and take in the porch chairs, you would. 

“Nothing to worry about. I’ll close up the stables and seal the windows—storm probably won’t hit for another hour or two. After dinner, we’ll turn in early.”

With a final stroke down Buttercup’s jaw, he steps away and moves towards you. You feel rooted in place again at his approach; the thought of taking a step back never even occurs to you. When he finally reaches you, he doesn’t hesitate to reel you in by your hips, drawing you into a deep, wet kiss that he breaks only when you whimper into his mouth. 

“You feelin’ better about being out here?” he asks, low and intimately. “Looked like you had a good time with Laswell.”

“She’s nice,” you say, deflecting from the other question. 

John hums his agreement, readjusting his hold on your waist until every inch of him is pressed against you. Your breasts are flattened to his chest, belly pressed to his; every hard inch of him, solid as an oak.

“C’mon, honey, talk to me,” he murmurs. “Have I been treating you right? You still have any reservations about marrying me?”

“Bit late for reservations, isn’t it?”

He clucks his tongue. “‘Course it ain’t. Won’t change anything, but I still wanna know.”

It’s hard not to consider the possibility of being honest with him for a change when his gaze borders on the devout. No one in the history of time has ever looked at you like this, like you hung up the moon and stars. The thought chokes you up. In all the years of your life, has one other person looked at you and asked if everything was to your liking? John’s love borders on reverence, straddles the narrow divide between the telluric and the celestial, the earthly and the divine. 

It’s dizzying. And you’re not built for subterfuge. Not built to lie to the one man that, despite everything, despite taking you from your former life by force, has offered you a new one on a silver platter. 

You wet your lips, conscious of how dry your mouth suddenly is. John’s eyes follow the glide of your tongue over your lip.

And then you lie. “None whatsoever. I’m happy here.”

Maybe it’s a half-lie. After he shuts the stable doors and barricades them to keep the doors from swinging open in the midst of the storm, you wind up back on the porch watching the dark clouds up in the sky slowly approach, John at your back this time. 

John tilts your head up into another kiss. You don’t know when you made the conscious decision to let him think you amenable to this relationship, but you cling to that thought desperately when his tongue licks into your mouth velvety smooth. 

The roof extends out over the porch, keeping the two of you dry, but you can hear the sound of raindrops pelting the slate shingles. 

“You’ll see, honey,” he says against your lips, the words rumbling through you, buzzing under your skin and making it tingle. “‘M gonna make you so happy. Never gonna even think of leaving me.”

The words dissolve on your tongue. Swallowed down dry. With his arm hooked around your waist and hand tilting your head up, there’s no way you could think of anything else except wanting more. 

It’s hard to talk when he has you up against the railing, your dress pulled up and his fingers spreading apart your lower lips. It’s not the first time he’s touched you there, but it’s the longest he has, at least without the barrier of your underwear. His fingers spread your labia delicately, middle finger running up the wet seam. He hums into the back of your head while he does and presses a kiss into your hair. 

“Always so soft and wet here, darlin’,” John murmurs, stroking his fingers up your inner lips and petting the sensitive nub at the apex of your sex. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been aching for it? Been waiting for you to give me the word.”

Waiting, he says, while tucking a finger into your sex, curling it up into you and chuckling under his breath when your hands clamp tighter on the railing and your back arches. Just a single finger feels like more than you can handle. John has thick fingers; thick fingers with calluses that you can feel on the delicate flesh between your legs. It plugs you up tight, more so when your core clenches involuntarily around his finger. His chuckle descends into a groan, then a sigh. 

He pulls his finger out against the squeeze of your internal muscles, ignoring the way you whisper, “No, please” under your breath. 

You only stop pleading for more when he swirls his finger around your pearl again, lavishing it with attention. “Aching? I’m not—”

“You are, darlin’,” he breathes, and now you feel him pull you from the railing, stepping back to take a seat on the porch swing. He pulls you into his lap, sitting you across it instead of with your back to his chest like he did in the bath the other day. 

“Anyone could come by—” you hiss, fluffing the skirt of your dress out around your thighs when he tries to push it back up to get his hands back on your nethers. 

“You tense up when you’re nervous, honey,” John cuts you off, forcing his hand back up your dress until he pushes his finger back into your quim, delighted to find it hotter and wetter, practically dripping onto his lap. “See, there you go. Just relax. I’ll make you feel good, darlin’. We’ll take care of that nasty ache.”

You pant through each pulse of his finger. You don’t even think about looking up to meet his eyes, not when he stares down at you with obvious adoration and devotion, the emotion splayed across his face. He looks entranced at the sight of you coming apart on his fingers, a flush high on his cheeks. 

“No one’s gonna come by. Not this far out. ‘Sides, they know to keep their distance. Newlyweds need their space, right, darlin’?”

Supposing he’s right and no one comes out this way. Isn’t it still unseemly to do this out in the open? So far from your marriage bed? John seems incapable of relegating his affections to that space, unconcerned with propriety or modesty. You wonder with a spark of fear if he’d even budge if someone were to come trotting up the walkway on horseback or if he’d just wave them off and send them on their way. You don’t think he’s the kind of man to want an audience, thank the Lord, but he seems entirely unphased by even the idea of being intruded upon. 

You melt when he shushes your worries, feeling you tense against him, and sinks his fingers in deeper, now another. Don’t fret, he murmurs against your temple, sighing softly. I’ve got you, honey. Ain’t going nowhere.

You aren’t, are you, you think wildly. The land around here goes on forever and the train whistles by only twice a week if you’re lucky. Then townsfolk know you by face and a false name, but that would be enough for them to grow concerned if they were to spot you heading for the train with your suitcases packed, and with John or one of his deputies always in town, there’s little chance you’d be able to board without one of them interfering. 

Still though, it’s better than the alternative. For over a week now you’ve been on high alert, waiting for an arrest warrant to be slipped onto John’s desk with your likeness drawn on it, and for him to come collect you stone-faced and furious. It could still come. 

He keeps you tucked into his arms and nestled close, shushing you when you hiccup and pinch your lips together to keep quiet. He lets you have that, unphased by the way you try to hide it, only tutting when you try to fight it, curling his fingers up inside you and rubbing a spot inside of you that makes it hard to breathe. 

“I could just take it, but you’re gonna give it to me, darlin’,” John says.

And you do. Messily, noisily. Burying your face in his neck and sobbing it out, humiliation wrung out of you, squeezing out every drop. He smells like musk and old sweat, amber warm. Liquid gold. You press your nose into the skin of his neck and draw in a breath so deep that you go lightheaded. 

John keeps his fingers tucked in you until you stop shaking, talking you through it even though you hardly hear a word. How could you over the rush in your head, the blood in your ears? When you open your eyes and look around, the sky is swollen and dark, the wall of rain 

“C’mon, honey,” he says, pulling his fingers out and placing his hand low on your belly. “Let’s go inside.”

You sit across from him at dinner, eating under candlelight. The weight of his gaze for once isn’t stifling. 

The rain only starts in earnest when he’s pulled the quilt over the two of you and pulled you into his arms. The rain pelting the windowpane dulls to a low roar when you turn over and snuggle deeper into John’s chest, pulling the blanket over your head. Tomorrow, the grass will be greener than the day before. You can feel it in your bones.

[pin-k-ink]

Ryomen Sukuna X Reader

CW: mention of death and violence, extremely fluffy, soft sukuna

summary: instances where sukuna realized he was in love with you

a/n: hehehehe >:)

Sukuna realized he loved you when he stopped by a dandelion field on his way to massacre a village, just because you wanted to make a wish on one. He made sure to wait patiently until you finished weaving the delicate yellow flowers into an intricate wreath that soon ended up on top of his head. Imagine how ridiculous he looked, killing people in cold blood with a flimsy flower crown on his head. He didn’t care, though. Because it was you who made it. It was you who kissed his nose while praising him for being patient (for you, he’d wait for all eternity if he had to).

Sukuna realized he loved you when you both were ambushed. Immediately lunging down and cradling your tiny body against his as he shielded you from the attack, almost instinctively. He felt your dainty fingers grasping the front of his kimono, shaking. All he felt was pure, unadulterated rage that boiled over in waves as he felt your tears soaking his cloths. He couldn’t feel anything, not the rough gravel that was scraping his knees, not the myriad of arrows piercing his back, not the shouts of his enemies as they closed in on him. No, all he could see was your teary eyed gaze as they looked up at him with worry. He ended up ripping the foolish sorcerers apart, shielding the brutal display from your eyes. He ended up carrying your shaking form home.

Sukuna realized he loved you when you kneeled down at his feet with a colorful display of fruits that you planned on feeding him. He had promptly got up from his throne and gripped your waist to hoist you up on it instead. As uncharacteristic as it was, he was the one that took the platter from you, settling down by your feet to pick up a cube of watermelon, bringing it up to your lips to feed you. He said he wasn’t in the mood for fruits, and stuffed your face with it until the entire platter was empty. You didn’t notice the small smile he had on his face whenever he felt your plump lips brush against the rough callous of his finger.

Sukuna realized he loved you when he had accidentally caught you smearing charcoal on your face, recreating the exact tattoos Sukuna had on his face, down to the last detail. When you finally saw him standing behind you with a bemused look in his eyes, you sputtered and lunged to wipe the marks off your face. He had caught you just in time, gently prying your fingers away from your face. He sat down beside you and hoisted you on top of his lap. The both of you spent the next couple of hours perfecting the design - he even made Uraume bring a spare kimono of his. He would never admit it, but he thinks he fell a little more in love with you when he saw that his cloths entirely engulfed your body. But when you started imitating him with a highly exaggerated, nasally voice, he was quick to shut you up with a kiss.

Sukuna realized he was in love with you when he saw you wake up next to him for the first time. Unbeknownst to you, he had woken up a couple of hours before you, and had spent those hours admiring your beautiful face while you slept. He realized that he didn’t care if he was a monster in other peoples eyes. If this sweet person felt safe enough to sleep next to someone like him, then maybe he wasn’t so bad. When you’d finally woken up, you smiled up at him, and Sukuna felt a pang inside his chest. You gently reached up and brushed your lithe fingers against his jaw. You brought him down for a tender kiss. The moment was short lived when you caught your disheveled appearance in the mirror, promptly cocooning yourself in the blankets. Sukuna wouldn’t admit it outloud, but he thought you were the most heavenly thing he ever saw.

Sukuna realized he was in love with you when he cradled your cold, lifeless body in his arms. Your eyes, once full of mirth, were now dull and bleak. He couldn’t bring himself to curse this world, to curse the cruel people that took you from him. His mind was blank, as he hugged your body close to his, rocking back and forth while he slowly accepted the fact that he’ll never feel your warmth again. The tears didn’t stop, running a steady stream down his face. He brushed your hair away from your face one last time before he laid you to rest. Even in death, you were truly the most angelic being he’s ever had the privilege of seeing.

Sukuna realized he loved you when he spent the next few centuries incessantly praying to whatever deity out there, to please grant him the opportunity to see you again. Whether it was in death or reincarnation, he didn’t care. He knew his soul would never be able to rest in peace without feeling your touch again. He wanted to be able to see you smile at him, to kiss him, to reassure him that he’s done enough and that he’s earned the right to rest now. Until then, he’d spend his time making the sorcerers who took you away from him, pay.

Yūji realized Sukuna felt something for you when his nagging voice in the back of his mind quieted down to a halt when you appeared in front of him for the first time. You looked as beautiful as he remembered, maybe even more. He willed his body to move, wanting to hold you close. But you stepped back in alarm, your arms outstretched to shield Megumi from him as you activated your technique. Before, his chest would hurt at the mere thought of someone hurting you. Now, it felt as if someone had plunged their hand straight inside his chest and ripped his heart out when he realized you don’t remember him. Before he could say a word, Yūji regained control over his body.

[illyrianbitch]

And I'm Thinking About Your Lips — Part Two

Pairing: Reader x Cassian

Summary: After sleeping together, you and Cassian are wrestling with what it means for your friendship--- leading you both to misreading everything.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT! best friends to lovers. literally just two big dummies in love, lots of miscommunication (tbh lack thereof), awkward moments, a sprinkle of sex! lovey dovey hot sex!

Word Count: 13k

This is part two of this fic, but can be read as a stand-alone :)

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The room was bathed in the soft, ethereal glow of the day, tendrils of morning light peeking through your sheer curtains. Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the soft brightness that now enveloped your room. You smiled to yourself, a heat rising to your cheeks as memories of the night prior began flooding through your mind, melting into you like warm honey. Cassian’s scent clung onto the sheets wrapped around you, evoking a warm, fluttering sensation in your chest. You inhaled deeply, delighting in the comforting smell, in the warmth it brought to your body. 

You slept with Cassian. You slept with Cassian. You fucked Cassian.

You pulled your sheets closer to yourself, an anticipation rising in your chest. There was a childlike excitement in your stomach, a giddiness that made your cheeks hurt from your smile. You let out a small breath, preparing yourself to turn over and face Cassian next to you, to revel in the intimacy of the morning after. You two needed to talk, of course, to discuss the new boundaries between you— to discuss what you even were. 

But as you shifted your weight, your smile dropped instantly. You stared at the empty spot next to you, the sheets wrinkled with an impression that almost made out Cassian’s form. Your heart sank like a stone in your chest, heavy with a weight of disappointment. You sat up right, scooting backwards to rest your back against the headboard. Your hand held your sheets to your chest, covering your nude form. You let out a deep sigh, a sadness raking through your body in waves. Of course he was gone. 

You chastised yourself for feeling so upset, for feeling so bothered. You knew better. This was Cassian, after all. An illyrian known for a good fuck– a great fuck. In fact, the rumors hadn’t done him justice. You always knew, deep down, that Cassian would be great in bed. There were too many females preaching about his skills, too many fawning over him for it all to be lies, to be over exaggerated. At one point, Mor had admitted that it was great– for the standards that she held him at. Sex with females was much more her speed, she had told you, but Cassian wasn’t too bad, even given the circumstances. At the time, the words never bothered you. But now, thinking back on them, you felt an envious irritation prickle at your skin. 

A part of you had hoped that this was different– that you were different. When he fell asleep next to you, you took it as a sign. Cassian almost never stayed the night with the women he fucked. You'd caught him before, coming home in the dead of night, a grin on his face, reeking of sex. The next morning he’d make some comment about it, tell you about his recent conquest– how flexible they were, how much they wanted him, how they said his name like he was a God. You always rolled your eyes, called him a pig, made fun of him. But now things were different. You were the female who wanted him so badly, the female that had moaned his name like he was a God. 

Had he left in the middle of the night and you’d failed to notice? Escaped your room and went back to his? Or was it early in the morning when he was hit with the sudden realization of what he had done? A sudden feeling of regret that grew arms and hauled him out of bed? He was probably thinking exactly what you were. It was a mistake. 

A glorious mistake. Repeated six times. So, six mistakes. Six glorious mistakes. But mistakes nonetheless. 

A deep sense of embarrassment filled you as you recalled the things you’d done the night prior, the things you'd said in a lustful haze. The memories were still fresh in your mind– you could feel the trace of Cassian's touch on your skin, the way his mouth felt on you, the way he had rolled his hips while inside you. You felt queasy now– dirty, almost.  

You lowered your gaze to where your hand clutched your soft sheets against your body. Instantly, you let out another pained sigh. Scattered across your chest were love bites Cassian had left behind– each dark and loud in their appearance. You stared at them with a frown. 

In the heat of the moment, you welcomed his marks, reveled in the passion they showed, enjoyed the idea of being marked as his. But now, in the light of day, they served as something entirely different– marks of bad decisions, reminders you’d have to face until they faded. Considering how prominent they were, how many were spread out around your body, you knew it would be a while until you were free of them. 

You slumped further into your bed, a heavy weight settling over your shoulders. With a resigned sigh, you let your head fall back against the headboard, the impact of it against the wood echoing softly in the room.

Fuck. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Cassian had forgotten the plans he’d made with Azriel– a meeting to review recent findings, to plan for future missions. He was already running late by the time he had woken up, the sunshine filtering in your room too bright for it to be early morning, the time he had agreed to meet Az. His body was relaxed in a way it had never been before. He supposed that would be expected after having the best sex of his life– with… his best friend? He tried not to overthink it. Instead, he had rolled over, taking in your presence with a smile.

He spent minutes looking at you, admiring the way that you slept, the peaceful rise of your chest as you breathed— he’d done his best to avoid staring at your naked form, the way your nipples perked in the morning air. He failed severely. How could he not appreciate them? Appreciate the rest of your body? The very thing he was lucky enough to touch, lucky enough to have pleasured.

It took every ounce of his will to remove himself from your bed, to keep himself from leaning over and embracing you, waking you up with a kiss. Every bone in his body ached for him to be intertwined with you again. So, in order to leave he had to at least touch you once. Tenderly, he had leaned over your sleeping figure, softly bringing the knuckles of his fingers across your cheek. 

He wanted to leave a note, leave something for you to wake up to. He searched for minutes, but your bedroom offered him no options. For a female who collected many things, your ‘trinkets’ as you liked to call them, you failed to own the one thing he needed– a pen. 

But he didn’t let him bother him too much. You knew him well enough to assume he’d left with good reason. And he was confident that you’d come find him to talk when you awoke. The thought of it alone made him feel giddy, made him excited in a way that traveled to both his heart and his cock at the same time. Such a strange feeling. He never thought the two would be so connected. 

He couldn’t focus all morning, none of Azriel’s words registering in his mind. His thoughts were all surrounding you. The way you smelled, the way you felt, how beautiful you looked when he fucked you, how beautiful you looked when you slept. Azriel had gotten tired of him, irritated at his lack of attention. With an eye roll he had sent Cassian on his way— and Cass had made a beeline for you.

He hadn’t expected to run into you immediately as he entered the hallway. But he accepted the timing gratefully, taking you in with a smile. A warmth fluttered in his chest as he walked towards you. 

“Cassian,” you breathed out, a small smile finding its way onto your lips.

Cassian frowned at the use of his full name falling from your lips in a way that felt so stiff, so unnatural. He swiftly recovered, meeting your smile with one of his own. His eyes shamelessly scanned you as you stood before him, causing a heat rise to your cheeks. Your heartbeat quickened, the sound echoing in your ears as you fought to regain your composure. Clearing your throat, you drew his attention back to your face.

"Mornin'," Cassian greeted, his grin stretching from ear to ear as he looked at you. His wings flared out behind him, extended comfortably and proud. You ran your eyes along their outlines. 

"Morning," you managed to reply, your voice coming out strained and uneven. You instinctively pulled your hands to the high neckline of your dress, tugging at the material in a nervous attempt to draw it closer to you.

Cassian's grin faltered for just a moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find an explanation for your movements, for how you stood before him– uneased, almost awkward. You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"How did you slee—"

"—Did you have a good—"

Your voices overlapped, the words tumbling out in a jumble of awkwardness. Cassian's eyebrows lifted in amusement, a small smirk now playing at the corners of his lips. Your laughter bubbled up nervously as you met his gaze with a small, uncertain smile.

"You first," you said, as you gestured towards him with a hesitant hand.

Cassian's smirk softened, a small breath of amusement escaping him in the form of a gentle laugh. He observed you for a moment, his gaze lingering on your face. “Did you have a good night?”

The images manifested in your mind quicker than you could process, the sound of his voice echoing in your head. 

I could feast on this beautiful pussy forever, you know that?

I wish I could be here forever.

Stay buried inside of your cunt. Fuck you like this for the rest of my life.

You blinked away the flurry of thoughts, feeling your stomach clench in an uncomfortable knot. A rush of heat flooded your already tinted cheeks. Hastily, you tried to push the images away– your new feelings of arousal too. You only hoped Cassian couldn’t tell, that he couldn’t smell it. 

"Uh, yeah... yeah I did. Did you?"

Cass picked up on the way you stumbled over your words, on the uncertain cadence in which they were spoken. But he decided against acknowledging it. You seemed to be happy last night, content with him. So, perhaps, this was how you always were after sex. He’d never seen this side of you, never seen you right after you’d fucked someone, after someone had fucked you. The thought eased some of his anxiety. This was a natural response for you, he affirmed, all he needed to do was play it cool and casual. You’d set the pace.

"Oh, yeah. I did," Cassian replied, his tone lowering as a gentle smile played at the corners of his lips. His hazel eyes seemed to soften, their usual warmth taking on a golden hue that made them glimmer in the light. You felt a flutter in your chest, an inexplicable pull towards him that made it hard to tear your gaze away. 

You nodded awkwardly, managing a small, strained smile. "Cool," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You found yourself now avoiding his gaze, looking anywhere but his face

"Cool," he repeated, his tone lighter than yours, laced with amusement. You could hear the smile in his voice, could picture it without even looking at him. His nonchalant demeanor was almost disarming, and you found yourself glancing up at him, meeting his gaze without intending to.

There he was, looking back at you with an easy smile, his eyes warm and inviting. Your face softened and you felt a flutter in your chest, a warmth spreading throughout your body like a gentle wave. 

“Hey, so-” Cassian reached his hand forward, moving to place it on your arm. You quickly deflected the movement, taking a step backwards as you threw a thumb over your shoulder.

“I, uh, I actually have to go,” you stammered, your voice hurried as you searched for an excuse. “I’m meeting Fey and Mor for breakfast. Can't be late.”

You offered a small apologetic smile before turning on your heel and disappearing around the corner, leaving Cassian standing alone in the hallway. Cassian's expression faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features as he watched you retreat. He felt his wings slump slightly behind him as a frown creased in his brow. You had left– no, fled– in the same direction you were coming from. 

His hand hovered in the air for a moment, as if suspended in the space where you had stood. He looked down at his hand, then back to the spot where you had disappeared around the corner before letting it slowly fall back to his side.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Mor was incredibly hung over when you showed up at her apartment, frantically knocking like your life depended on it. She stumbled to the door, her hair disheveled and her eyes still heavy-lidded with sleep.

You rushed inside without a word, looking at her with a face of exasperation. Mor blinked blearily at you, trying to process the world around her, one that was moving faster than her brain could handle. “What's going on?" she asked, her voice muffled by a yawn.

You stared at Mor for a moment. When you opened your mouth to respond, no words came out. You didn’t know where to start– didn’t even know what you wanted to tell her. How do you explain that you’ve completely humiliated yourself? That there's a chance you’ve messed up your friendship with Cassian? With a frustrated groan, you turned away and walked to her couch, slumping down onto it with a defeated sigh.

It took 15 minutes for Feyre to show up, her footsteps echoing as Mor opened the door. She rushed in, concern etched on her face as she peeled off her coat.

"I rushed over as soon as I could. What was the big dea—" Feyre's words trailed off as her eyes fell upon you, sprawled on your back on the couch, your groans muffled by the pillow you clutched tightly to your face. Feyre looked over to the blonde next to her. 

"She fucked Cassian," Mor stated blankly, taking a sip of the warm liquid in her cup– tea, from what Feyre could smell. Something to help with Mor’s evident hangover– another thing Feyre could smell. 

Feyre's eyes widened in surprise as she let out a small gasp. Then, her face transformed into one of slight amusement. "Took long enough."

Mor swallowed down her tea, nodding in agreement before clearing her throat. "So either it went really good or really bad.” She exchanged a meaningful look with Feyre. "I haven't been able to tell which it is yet.”

Feyre nodded in understanding, her expression softening as she walked over to where you lay, sitting on the ground beside the couch. As Mor settled into a chair across from you, Feyre leaned forward, resting her arms on the cushions to get your attention. "Hey, Y/n," she said, her voice ringing softly in your ears. "Why don’t we move this pillow away."

You slowly lowered the pillow from your face, turning to the side to meet Feyre's gaze as she said, “Well, someone looks extra beautiful today.” 

You stared at her with an unamused face. "I'm so absolutely mortified," you mumbled, a frown forming on your lips.

Pushing yourself upright on the couch, you tossed a glance at both Mor and Feyre. They looked at you, quiet and expecting, eyebrows raised slightly. With a deep breath, you let it all spill out. You walked them through the night at Ritas, the conversation when you came home, details about your night with Cass, the sex, and how you had woken up to an empty bed. 

"And then when I saw him, he was so casual, so nonchalant about it," you explained, frustration lacing your words. "I half expected him to give me a fist bump and call me dude." 

You didn't miss the way Mor choked on her drink, a small sound escaping her lips that almost resembled a laugh. Feyre did her best to maintain her composure, her lips pressed tightly together. But her eyes, sparkling with suppressed laughter, gave her away. In all fairness, you would be laughing too. In fact, a part of you, deep down, wanted to. It all seemed so absurd. A few months ago, the idea of being intimate with Cassian would have been something so unrealistic. 

"Well, this is Cassian," Feyre began, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the right words. “He’s….”

She looked towards Mor for help. The blonde held her gaze for a minute, and then spoke, "Oblivious," she supplied, her tone matter-of-fact. "Honestly, I don't understand how he talks to women," Mor continued, "He's horrible at it. Pretty privilege gets you things, I swear-"

Feyre's expression shifted to one of quiet reprimand. "Mor."

“No, she's right," you admitted with a sigh, tapping Feyre’s hand lightly. "He is pretty bad. He gets away with it because he's hot. And he's good in bed... which I now know." Another groan escaped you as you sank back further against the couch.

You understood now why decision making under any drug, under any hazes, was heavily frowned upon. Your eagerness to bed your best friend, the lustful trance you were in, both drunk on your own arousals, it left you in a mess. You cringed at the embarrassment that still filled you. How were you supposed to be normal, now? Cassian’s smell still filled your nose, the mere thought of him made your core clench. Seeing him made you feel feral. And now, you had to face him casually— knowing he had seen you in such a vulnerable position; that he had seen you completely naked, moaning underneath him. The image sent a blush up your neck. 

"If he wants to move on from it, okay," you said, "But I don't know how to be normal around him. How do people do this?" 

“What?” Mor asked, “Have casual sex?”

“No. I love casual sex,” you said. Even though you’d never finished before Cassian. “But sex with your best friend? Not casual.”

She shrugged. “Depends on the best friend, really.”

You shot her a look. 

“Sorry, not helping.” She lifted a hand up in surrender. “Got it.”

Feyre shifted beside you, her gaze gentle as she placed her hand on top of yours. "Look, it doesn't have to be a big deal if you don't want it to be," she reassured you.

You nodded, appreciating her attempt to ease your anxiety. You knew this wasn’t that big of a deal, at least not to everyone around you. But you were stressed. Your friendship with Cassian was something that you treasured dearly. You knew him better than you knew yourself. He was home. The thought that your bond, the relationship you had formed over centuries, could have been changed by one night of flimsy thinking— it made you worry.  

"I know,” you replied. “But I don't know how to even look at him..." Your voice trailed off as you cringed inwardly. "Like, I said things..." 

Mor and Feyre exchanged a puzzled glance before turning their attention back to you. Feyre furrowed her brow, leaning in closer to you. "What... what things?" 

You couldn't help but feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you, your cheeks flushing at the thought of last night. How had you gone from so confident to so shy now, shy at your own memories, at your own words?

Mark me. 

I’m yours.

I’m yours.

I’m yours.

Fuck me like I'm yours. 

With a clearing of your throat, you attempted to regain your composure, trying your best to act natural as you avoided meeting their eyes.

“Just things I can't look him in the face knowing that he heard," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Your gaze remained fixed on your hands, fidgeting with your nails in a feeble attempt to distract yourself from their gazes.

“Gods, Y/n,” Mor started, “What kinda stuff are you into?" 

You snapped your head up to meet her gaze, a mixture of shock and disbelief evident on your face. "Not like that, Mor!" you exclaimed, your voice tinged with indignation. The blush on your cheeks deepened. "Just very... intimate things," you clarified quickly.

You watched as Mor and Feyre shared another look.

"Hey, stop that," you interjected, pointing a finger between them.

Feyre raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Hmm? Stop what?"

You narrowed your eyes. “The looks.”

Again, Feyre glanced over at Mor– a movement so swift you nearly missed it.

"That! Stop that," you insisted.

They both let out sighs, small smiles playing on their lips. 

"Y/n,” Mor said, “I think you're stressed because it's only been like, what? 12 hours?”

You gave a slight nod. She smiled in response, leaning forward in her chair slightly. “I'm sure it'll go away in a few days.” 

Feyre chimed in, her voice equally as comforting. "If that's what you want, of course," she added.

You nodded to yourself, taking in their words. Maybe they were right. You were in a shock system, your emotions were all over the place. Everything would settle soon. You could handle a few days. A few days to let it all leave your system, a few days to fall back into the old rhythm between you and Cassian. Things would be back to normal within a week, you told yourself, nothing to worry about. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Cassian had begun to realize that he had misread the situation entirely. 

You were distant, more so than he’d ever experienced. At first, he wrote it off as a busy schedule. Even before you two had slept together, your schedules were hectic, causing your time together to be few and far between. But then he started observing you more, started noticing the way that you acted. 

Cass was a physical male, he knew this. He loved to be around other people, loved to touch those around him— in both platonic and sexual ways, depending on the audience. So when you started to doge his cheek kisses, started to duck under the hand he’d move to wrap around your shoulder, he’d taken note.

It hit him last night, when everyone was gathered and sitting around the living room, talking about recent events. The plan was to go over any looming threats, collectively share all the information you had. When you arrived, everyone was already seated. You had stilled, your eyes falling on Cassian, and then on the empty space next him. It felt like hours that he watched you stand there, glancing between him and the cushion. 

He fixed his position, adjusting his wings to make space for you, for them to fall behind you as you placed your head on his shoulder. But the movement never came, his shoulder remaining cold and untouched. Instead, you sat down timidly, pushing yourself further into the other end of the couch, leaning away from him. 

The act, or the lack of it, led him to one conclusion: you regretted that night together. It made so much sense now, in his tired mind. The avoidance, the inability to even touch him, to be in the same room as him. It reeked of regret. How had he not realized sooner? 

He felt a sense of guilt wash through him. You were supposed to be best friends– you were best friends. How had he missed such obvious signs? Cassian deflated. 

Had he made you uncomfortable? With how open he’d been with you? His mind raced with thoughts. If he was a selfish male– which, often, he could be– he would start the conversation with you. He would confess to you that he thought about that night more often than he’d care to admit, that he wanted to repeat it every night–  for the rest of his life, even. But Cassian wasn’t selfish when it came to one thing; he wasn’t selfish when it came to you. So he was faced with a new situation now, one he didn’t know how to navigate, one he couldn’t rely on battle strategies to overcome.  And he was stuck. Completely and utterly stuck.

How could he possibly go back to normal? How could he return to the male he was before– the one who had never heard your sounds of ecstasy, one who had never felt you wrapped around him? 

Sure, he was a strong male, able to withstand any torture, any battle— but he couldn’t withstand you. Couldn’t ignore the sweetness of your smell, the flutter in his chest that came to life when you laughed. He wanted to ignore it, oh how desperately he wanted to ignore it, but he couldn't. He couldn’t ignore it when images of you overtook his mind, couldn’t ignore it when he saw you everytime he closed his eyes, that he heard your whimpers in his sleep, heard the way you chanted his name like a prayer. He didn’t think he had it in him. 

But he supposed he had to try. Because it was you. 

And for you, he’d do anything. Even if that meant never speaking of the roaring in his heart. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You usually loved family brunches, as chaotic and loud as they could be. 

But you weren’t looking forward to today. 

Things with Cassian were still strange. You were willing to admit that they’d gotten slightly better, that now you could look at him without immediately remembering how his tongue felt on you. Before, it was seconds before you’d fall into a dream state, imagining yourself back in your bed with him a week prior. Now, it took a couple of minutes. You considered it progress. You could avoid him throughout the house, tiptoe around his door, keep note of his schedule— but interaction within a family meal was hard to bypass. 

It had been a few days now, but if Cassian wasn’t going to mention anything, neither were you. 

He hadn’t talked to you, couldn’t even look at you without clearing his throat awkwardly, without looking away. Had it been bad for him? All the thinking you’d done over it, mulling over every aspect, had left you reeling. You were exhausted– and incredibly frustrated. Sexually.

You stared at the table in front of you, eyes scanning each seat. Seating arrangements were never something explicitly discussed in your family, but the positions usually stayed the same, an unspoken order to how everyone naturally found their places around the table.

You always sat with Cassian and Azriel, sandwiched between them as their conversations veered into arguments over the most trivial matters—exchanges you explained as males being males. Big, illyrian babies. You always took the opportunity to bother Cass, siding with whatever Azriel’s view was just to see the mock offense play out on his face. He always gasped in disbelief, accusing you of lying, insisting that you actually agreed with him because you both thought the same about everything. Even though you always dismissed his words with a smile and a wave of your hand, he was always right. You did think the same– about everything. Until now.

Mor usually sat next to Amren, the pair drinking wine together while they traded offhanded comments about the rest of you. And then, of course, there was Rhysand and Feyre. Their chairs were always positioned so close together that it was almost as if they were connected, Rhysand's hand often finding its place intertwined with Feyre's—  or when they weren't being subtle, resting possessively on her thigh.

Your eyes scanned over the empty seats at the table. Mor and Cassian had yet to sit down, leaving 3 empty seats: two next to Azriel, and one next to Amren– across the table. You took a deep breath. It was probably in everyone's best interest that you sat away from Cass.  

You didn't want to make things awkward, didn't want him to lean in for conversation only to be hit with the overwhelming scent of your arousal. The last thing you wanted was to force him to pretend he didn't notice, to watch him struggle to act normal while you were clearly fawning over him. It would be mortifying– it had been mortifying. You knew Cassian would never want to make you feel uncomfortable, but it would put him in a strange position as someone who didn't see you in that way, someone who was trying to move on.

You decided it was best to wait it out a little longer before you could be around him properly again, give yourself time to regain control over your emotion. Until then, you’d keep your distance, avoiding situations that might intensify your feelings. 

With a slight hesitation, you made your way towards the seat next to Amren, oblivious to Cassian's presence as he emerged from the kitchen. His familiar scent washed over you like a tidal wave, enveloping your senses in a way that had you melting– you feared that your legs would turn to jelly, that you would fall to the floor in front of him. Your grip on your plate tightened instinctively.

You looked up at Cass, meeting his gaze directly. Beautiful, beautiful hazel eyes peered down at you. They widened a fraction, his mouth slightly parting. You managed to give him a small smile, slightly breathless as your stomach tied itself into knots. You attempted to sidestep him, but he mirrored your movements, resulting in a clumsy dance of trying to avoid collision. With each step, you found yourselves inadvertently blocking each other's path once more, creating a scene that you knew would be comical had you not been the one stuck in it. 

"Oh, sorry, I—" you started, your words interrupted by Cassian's chuckle of amusement. His laughter caused a flutter in your heart, a small smile making its way onto your face as a blush rose to your cheeks

With a casual gesture, he lifted his hand and plate high above, and you quickly ducked underneath, a wave of relief rolling through you. Scrambling over to Amren's side, you felt the weight of eyes on you, but you didn’t dare to look up, didn’t dare to see whose gaze it was. The last thing you wanted was to risk catching Cassian's eyes again.

As you settled into your seat, you focused on maintaining your composure, ensuring that no one else could sense—or The Mother forbid, smell—the emotions you were feeling: arousal, attraction… and something else. Something sweeter. 

You turned your head to the side, meeting Amren’s gaze, her expression unreadable save for a raised eyebrow. With a soft murmur, you muttered, "Don't start.”

To your surprise, Amren's lips curved ever so slightly, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. She didn't say anything in response, opting instead to take a leisurely sip from the crimson liquid in her cup.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Cassian was surprised when you’d shown up to training, clad in your fighting leathers and a small smile on your face. His heart quickened its pace as his eyes landed on you, the sight of you filling him with a rush of unexpected excitement. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips before he even realized it, a warmth spreading through his body. 

Your hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, swaying gently behind you with each purposeful step. As you walked, Cassian felt a surge of desire stirring within him, his eyes tracing your figure, taking in the way the leather clung to your body, how it accentuated every curve. He’d noticed how good you looked in your letters before, of course, but he’d been better at pushing the thoughts away, at refocusing himself. He found it incredibly more difficult now that he knew what you looked like underneath them. He wondered if you were still adorned in his marks, wondered what it would be like to strip you naked right here, take you on the floor. 

He didn’t notice you had reached him, that you were standing in front of him with furrowed brows, until you were saying something. He blinked, snapping out of his trance, and hastily cleared his throat. "H-hey, Y/n. I didn’t expect to see you today.”

A small frown creased your brow as you tilted your head. "When have I ever missed a training session of ours?"

"Yeah, right, it's just," Cassian paused for a moment, “You’ve been so busy recently.”

You glanced away briefly, a flicker of guilt—or was it shame?—crossing your features before you turned back to him with a small smile. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I've been... busy," you admitted, your tone clearly apologetic. "Dealing with some stuff."

Cassian felt a tug on her heart, a sense of guilt gnawing at the edges of his mind. Memories of your night together flooded his head, each vivid and pleasurable. He pictured your face, the way you spoke, the feel of your skin. Was he so engulfed in his affection towards you, so blinded by his lust, that he had missed any sign of your discomfort? Had you not enjoyed yourself?

"Well, uh, is everything okay?" 

He watched as a faint smile graced your face, soft and reassuring. 

“Yeah," you replied, “Yeah, I think so.”

Cassian felt a tug at his heartstrings, a warmth blooming in his chest like wildfire. His wings fell slightly– a movement of relief, a sense of comfortability filling him. His heart pounded against his ribcage, its steady rhythm echoing in his ears like the pounding of a drum. He wondered how you couldn’t hear it— prayed that you couldn’t.

"Well, good, I'm glad.”

"You ready to get your ass kicked?" you teased, a grin spreading across your face. You playfully punched him on the arm, a mischievous glint in your eyes that he’d missed. He took in every detail of your expression, savoring the way your features softened with amusement.

Despite the lightness of the gesture, so casual, so platonic, he couldn't help the heat that spread through him at the contact. The sensation lingered long after your hand retreated.

He chuckled, pushing his feelings down deeper into his chest. “As if.”

You both fell easily into your normal routine, sweat beginning to pool on your skin as you maneuvered around one another. Cassian paid extra attention to the way you moved, to how your body acted around him. 

"You seem a bit distracted today," he remarked, his voice laced with playful amusement as he deftly dodged another one of your attacks, your favorite dagger gripped tightly in your hand. Your actions didn’t seem as fluid as normal, your movements staggered and uncertain. 

You shot him a pointed look. Then, a small smirk played on the corners of your lips, your beautiful pink lips. "I could say the same," you countered. "Maybe if you focused more on your body than mine, you could actually beat me."

Cassian blinked in surprise, momentarily thrown off balance by the sudden change in tone. Were you… flirting with him? He felt a rush of excitement course through him, his heart leaping in his chest as blood rushed to both of his heads. Even if it was simply playful, he relished in the feeling, in the reality of you being able to banter with him once more.

"Oh yeah?" Cass replied, matching your playful tone. "I guess I'll just have to try harder, won't I?"

Cassian's eyes followed you intently, tracking every movement with precision. Your steps were lighter now, more agile, more calculated. He almost smirked at the fact that his words were riling you up, causing such observable differences. In one swift movement, you deflected his hand, your body falling closer to him. Instantly, Cassian's senses were overwhelmed by your presence, the scent of you filling his nostrils, sweet and intoxicating. A surge of desire coursed through him. You smelled so damn good. He wanted to grab you then, kiss you, undress yo-

The breath was knocked out of Cassian's chest as you skillfully knocked him off balance, sending him tumbling to the ground with a resounding thud. With a slow blink, he registered the movement, finding himself pinned beneath you, a dagger pressed against his throat. 

There was a grin on your lips as you looked down at him triumphantly.

"For such a big male, you sure do go down easy," you teased.

His mind was instantly filled with Images of you sprawled out before him, memories of him falling to his knees at your glistening core. He smirked. 

"I seem to recall you loving how easily I went down.”

You let out a small gasp of surprise– barely audible, but Cassian caught it. The sound sent a jolt straight down his core, straight to his cock. He watched as a blush crept onto your cheeks, a beautiful pink color dusting your skin.

He felt the weight of your touch ease, the tension in your fingers relenting against his skin. Your eyes met his for a moment before they drifted downward, lingering momentarily on his lips.

A single strand of your hair had broken free from your ponytail, cascading delicately over him like a silken tendril. Its faint touch tickled his forehead. Slowly, Cassian reached up, his fingers trailing along the curve of your cheek as he tenderly tucked the stray strand behind your ear. He kept his fingers there for a moment, tracing the shell of your ear, the same way he had done a week prior. 

A mounting pressure swelled within his chest, something deep inside him pushing him to speak, urging him to confess these new feelings he had begun to realize– feelings for you. But just as he summoned the courage to speak, you shifted slightly, and Cassian’s eyes widened.

Oh fuck. Cassian thought. Oh no. 

He was hard. Rock fucking hard.

Panic surged through him like a lightning bolt. Not now, he thought, not here. Not when you’d finally started acting normal around him, flirty even. You were going to be uncomfortable, put off by his weird attraction to you. 

As he scrambled to regain his composure, Cassian's movements became hurried and erratic, his muscles tensing as he attempted to push himself upright. When his body shifted abruptly, you instinctively pulled away from him. He missed the frown that made its way onto your face, the hurt that flickered in your eyes. Instead, he was focused on positioning himself in a way that didn’t face you, a way where his evident arousal wasn’t so… evident. 

With a hurried nod and a mumbled acknowledgment of your victory, Cassian swiftly made his exit. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Mor upended the wine bottle, allowing the last remnants to cascade into her glass with a satisfying glug. The evening sun casted warm hues through the windows of her apartment, a view that would have left you relaxed had it not been for your wound up mind. 

"I didn't even realize I was flirting with him until it came out," you said, your cheeks tinged with a faint blush.  "I could've sworn he liked it! I mean, he matched the energy."

Your friends stared at you. A moment of silence passed. Then, Amren's voice cut through the air. "I'm failing to see a problem," she stated bluntly, fixing you with her narrow gaze.

"Yeah, isn't this good?" Feyre chimed in, her voice gentle but firm. "You liked it, right?"

You let out a small sigh.

"Yeah, I liked it," you admitted, leaning back against the couch. "But then, a few moments later, he was practically pushing me off him and leaving."

It was a wrong move on your part— the flirting, that is. You were just beginning to fall into a normal pace with Cass, finally being able to be around him without wanting to rip his clothes off. And now you were back in the same position, a weird tension wrapped around you and your best friend. It wasn’t like you had planned on flirting with him, but it didn’t change the fact that you liked it. You thought he’d liked it too, could have sworn you saw a gleam in his eyes. 

You let out another sigh, a sound laced with frustration. 

"And you know what else?" you continued, your tone escalating. "He called me baby. Like who calls someone baby when they're inside them and then just leaves in the morning, no mention of it? And now he wants to act all normal? But will flirt with me and then run away? It's cruel."

Feyre's eyes widened slightly, your words registering in her mind as fast as you spilled them. She blinked, turning to exchange a quick glance with Mor– the blonde seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the entertainment, her lips turned up into an amused smile. 

You caught the exchanged glance, your eyes fitting onto Mor as she brought her glass to her lips. She raised an eyebrow at you, meeting your gaze. 

"Don't even say it,” you said, catching the knowing glint in her eyes. 

Mor chuckled.

"Babe, I literally haven’t said a thing since you walked in."

You stilled. She was right. You were rambling, rambling like a horny teenager with a silly crush. You sank further into yourself, running your hands down your face in frustration.

"Are you a mind reader, girl?"

You scrunched your face in confusion as you turned to face Amren. 

"No?" 

"Exactly," she retorted, "Figure out what you want and then talk to him. No need to be children about it."

You recoiled slightly at the bluntness of her words, feeling a pang of irritation at the implied criticism. But deep down, you knew she was right. But what did you want? You didn’t like the unease that filled moments with him, you didn’t like how you had to overthink everything you did, everything you said. But did you truly want things to go back to how they were before? Or did you want something else? 

With a resigned sigh, you allowed yourself to lean into Feyre's comforting presence, feeling the tension in your shoulders begin to dissipate as she placed her head on top of yours. You let your mind spiral as your friends began talking amongst themselves.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Rhys found it funny at first, hilarious even. 

Seeing Cassian so riled up, so flustered, was amusing. But it had been hours now, and Rhysand had work to attend to— important court affairs that he couldn't focus on while Cass was spilling his guts out like a common court gossip. What was once entertaining now felt exhausting. Rhysand felt like he had a child. Either that, or an annoyingly vocal pet. 

Rhys let out a chuckle, the sound echoing softly in the quiet of the study. Cassian came to an abrupt halt, shooting a sharp glare at his brother. 

"What's so funny about this?" Cassian demanded.

Rhys regarded him with a knowing look, his lips quirking into a faint smile. "All of it," he replied with a small shrug. "You’re one of the most feared males, and here you are, stumbling over one night with Y/n. It's fascinating."

Cassian’s glare only sharpened, his jaw clenched. Cassian was stumbling. After practically running away from you the other day, he’d found it hard to face you again. Embarrassment filled him when he thought of it, when he thought of how easy it was for him to get riled up at the thought of you, how embarrassing it was for him to have to run off and rub himself raw every time you smiled at him. He was a grown male – a terrifying warrior– and he’d almost finished in his damn fighting leathers at the smell of you. 

He thought it was rough before, after that first night at Rita’s, that week of lusting after you so hard. But it was much worse now after having experienced it, after knowing how fucking fantastic it was to fuck you, to make you moan. 

"Don't judge me,"  Cassian snapped, his tone defensive. "You weren't the Lord of calm and collected when you and Feyre started moving past friendship."

Rhys raised an eyebrow. "Are you comparing this situation to me and my mate?" 

Cassian paused for a moment. The look Rhysand gave him made him feel like a child caught with his pants down. He glanced away for a brief moment, collecting his thoughts, before meeting Rhys's gaze again. He frowned. "Shut up," he growled, his tone still gruff, but with a hint of sheepishness that Rhysand didn’t fail to pick up on.

What was Cassian supposed to do? Should he live with his feelings for you in secret? Pretend they didn't exist in order to return back to normal with you? He supposed he could ignore them, shove them far into a crawlspace in his mind, leave them to collect dust. But it wasn’t realistic. The mere sight of you sent shivers across his body, the thought of you alone made him horny enough to be incapable of rational thought. 

Pushing himself off his chair, Rhys walked around his desk to where Cassian stood, a grin playing at the corners of his lips. With a firm touch, he clapped a hand on Cassian’s shoulder.

"Cassian, brother," Rhysand began as he guided them both towards the door. "You know that I love you."

Cassian's brows furrowed at the sudden statement, but his frown softened into a small as he reciprocated the sentiment. "I love you too, man," he replied.

"And that I'd die for you.”

Cassian nodded, his brows furrowing deeper. 

"So take this the way that you wish," Rhysand concluded, his voice trailing off as he gave Cassian a final nudge forward. 

Cass stumbled forward slightly, face twisted in confusion as he turned to Rhysand– only to find himself met with the sight of the door slamming shut in his face. Cassian’s mouth fell open in offense. A sense of frustration prickling over him, soon turning into a wave of embarrassment. 

"You're a prick, Rhysand!" he exclaimed, shooting a glare at the closed door.

Rhysand's laughter echoed from behind the door, a sound that only served to further fuel Cassian’s annoyance. With a shake of his head, Cass turned away, his steps heavy with frustration as he made his way down the hallway.

Fix your mess, brother. Rhysand's voice echoed in his mind. It's leaving you very exposed.

Cassian flinched internally as Rhys emphasized his point with a firm tap against his mental shields.

Fuck you. 

No thanks, Rhysand swiftly replied, Wouldn’t want you to finish in your fighting leathers at the smell of me.

Cassian growled as he forcefully shoved Rhys out of his mind. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Cassian’s stomach clenched as he rounded the corner, catching sight of you standing outside his door, hand poised to knock.

"Y/n?" 

You let out a startled sound, a mix between a gasp and a shriek, as your hand flew to your chest, your eyes wide with surprise. "Gods,” you breathed out, looking at Cassian as your heartbeat slowed. “You scared me.”

Cassian smiled at your reaction, a warmth spreading through him as the sound of your sweet voice filled his ears. With a few quick strides, he closed the distance between you, his gaze softening as he took in your presence.

"Sorry," he said softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he approached you with a small smile. “What’re you doing?”

Your cheeks flushed at the sight of his smile, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you. How embarrassing. It’s literally only been a minute. You blinked, clearing your head of your thoughts. "Oh, I was looking for you.” 

Cassian’s smile turned into a grin as he tilted his head with a small laugh. "Yeah, sweetheart, I gathered that much.”

Your heart fluttered at the sound of the pet name, a wave of longing washing over you as you realized how much you had missed hearing it. It had been over a week since you last heard it, over a week since Cass had been comfortable enough to use it once more. Gods, had you missed him—the way his voice sounded, the warmth of his smile, the comfort of his presence. Cassian, Cassian, Cassian. 

He stood before you, his gaze warm and tender as he took in your presence, savoring the moment, tracing the features of your face with his eyes. For a brief instant, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing there in the dimly lit hallway, surrounded by quiet as you took each other in. 

"Wanna go in?" he asked, giving a small nod towards the door behind you. "Or we could stand out here. I'm good with either.”

The sound of his teasing wrapped around you, and you gave him a jokingly unamused face, a small laugh escaping your lips. "Loser, " you replied, rolling your eyes with a smile. You turned to open his door, walking into his room. 

The smell of him instantly surrounded you– peaceful nights and crackling fires, a warmth that only he caused within you. You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath as your smile deepended. You heard the sound of the door close softly behind you. 

Your mind raced with a million thoughts, each one clamoring for attention as you tried to find the right words to say. You still weren’t sure what you wanted to tell him, what you even wanted from him. 

"I want to talk about the other night," you blurted out, turning to face him. Instantly, you felt a rush of nerves flood through you, a flush creeping up your cheeks as you struggled to maintain your composure. "Y’know, when we fucked.”

Cassian's demeanor shifted slightly as he stilled. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I've been meaning to talk to you about that, too.”

“You have?”

Cassian nodded, his movements hesitant as he ran a hand through his hair."Yeah," he admitted, "I wasn't sure how to approach it.”

You felt a flutter of anticipation in your chest, your pulse quickening. His gaze bounced around the room, falling everywhere but your face. You frowned, waiting for his eyes to settle on you, wanting to see the brown hues you’d grown to love so much. 

His gaze finally met yours. 

"I know you regret it. We can move on and go back to normal. I promise."

You frowned, your face falling at his words. 

"Regret it?" 

Your tone was a clear indicator that Cassian had said something wrong. But now he was confused, unsure of what he said that warranted your confusion. 

"Yeah, it seemed pretty clear.”

You shook your head. "What are you talking about?" you repeated, your voice now tinged with frustration. Had Cassian believed you didn’t enjoy yourself? Had he been thinking that the entire time? 

"You won't even touch me," Cassian stated matter-of-factly. There was a sense of frustration in his voice that seeped into his words.

"Because whenever I touch you," you said, your voice now slightly trembling, "I feel this weird warmth that makes me want you to rip my clothes off!"

The confession spilled from your lips before you could stop it, the raw honesty of your feelings washing over you in a wave of embarrassment and frustration. Your eyes widened as you watched Cassian take in your words. 

“Well I want to rip your clothes off!”

His admission filled you with a sense of relief that had you releasing a breath. The relief quickly turned into arousal, a fire beginning to simmer underneath your skin, a warmth spreading through your veins. You wanted to pull him into a kiss, to run your hands along his chest. 

"You do?" 

"Yes!" Cassian replied, his voice deep and guttural, sending a shiver down your spine. The intensity in his tone stirred a primal desire that pulsed with an undeniable heat. He took a few large strides towards you, stopping so he was directly in front of you, looking down at your face. 

Your chest tightened, your heart fluttering erratically in its beat. You quickly reined in your impulses, forcing yourself to hold back from making any rash movements. Rushing into things had only led to complications last time– you were not going to repeat the same mistakes.

Amren's words echoed in your mind. You needed to think about what you wanted— what you truly wanted. And deep down, you knew the answer. All you wanted was Cassian. You had always wanted Cassian. But the thought of risking your friendship, of irreparably altering the dynamic between you, filled you with a sense of unease that you wanted to run away from. 

Returning to normal seemed like the safest option, the path of least resistance. Keeping your friendship intact, with no risk of crossing boundaries or venturing into uncharted territory, felt like the logical choice. But as Cassian stood before you, his gaze filled with longing, you weren’t so sure if the safest option was what you wanted.

"But that's a problem!" you said, "I don’t want to risk ruining this," you continued, gesturing between the two of you. "This amazing and strong friendship we've built, because we just want to fuck each other."

“Just want to fuck each other? Is that all this is?” He paused for a moment. “Is that what you want?’

You hesitated. “I don’t know," you admitted, your voice soft. "But I've thought about it, and I could do it, for you. Because I am really, really attracted to you."

Cassian's heart skipped a beat at your words. He wanted to grin at the emphasis of his attractiveness, to poke fun at how much you liked him, but he found himself caught up on two words that you had uttered.

"For me?" he repeated, a slight frown on his face. “What do you mean for me?”

You let out a deep breath, a sigh escaping your lips as you glanced to the side before meeting his gaze again. "C’mon, Cass. You don’t do romance.”

Cassian's brows furrowed in surprise, a hint of offense flashing in his eyes. "What are you talking about? I do romance just fine," he protested, his voice defensive.

"You've never had a girlfriend, or any serious relationship for that matter," you pointed out, "And you've been around a long time, you old fuck."

"Wrong. There was that one female that one time." 

You stared at him blankly, your mouth slightly parted.

"You know, with the…the hair," he continued, gesturing vaguely to his own body, mimicking the flow of long hair.

The corners of your lips turned up as you let out a small laugh of disbelief. He was an idiot. You had feelings for an idiot. 

"Your attention to detail truly astounds me, Cass," you remarked dryly. "I'm surprised Azriel isn't worried about his position as our court's Spymaster. Should I go tell him that his job may be up for grabs?"

Cassian wanted to laugh, but he recognized your attempts to deflect instantly, deciding to place a hand on your arm. His eyes swiftly scanned your features, craning his head down to catch your gaze. 

“Y/n,” he said softly, calling your attention back to him. Your eyes met his almost instantly. 

"Yes?" 

"I don’t want to just fuck you," Cassian said, his hand coming to rest against your cheek, his touch gentle and reassuring. "I mean, I do. Real bad. Reaaaal bad," he added with a hint of playful exaggeration. “But it's not just that.” 

"Then what is it?" 

"I want all of it.”

His other hand moved up to hold your other cheek. He gazed at you intently, his eyes soft with a look of longing that had you melting into his touch. His thumbs brushed your cheeks in tandem. You brought your hands up to hold his wrists, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours, and exhaled deeply, your brows furrowing with uncertainty.

"What if we don't work and this turns into something really bad?"

Cassian's gaze softened, his thumbs gently tracing circles on your cheeks as he considered your question. "Or, hear me out," he began, his voice steady and filled with conviction, "What if this is something really good?"

"But what if it’s not?" you repeated, your voice heavy with worry. "I mean, you've already seen me naked and I don’t know how to act.”

Cassian grinned at the comment, his mind drifting off to the images of you buried into his mind. But his expression quickly softened, falling back into the seriousness that you needed. "Hey," he said gently, his thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks. "Give me some credit."

You let out a small sigh and nodded softly. Cassian was always great at reeling you in when he needed to, at calling out your pessimistic tendencies. Maybe he was right. You weren’t giving your best friend enough credit. He wouldn’t let anything ruin your friendship— centuries of your bond had proven this. If he was confident in this, in you, you should be too. You looked at him, still quiet. His eyes softened.

"Life would suck absolute balls without you," Cass said, adding with a small clarifying grin, "In a bad way."

You playfully rolled your eyes at his words, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “How romantic.”

Cassian’s grin only widened, his thumb tracing along the curve of your smile line, a gentle caress that sent a shiver down your spine. You relished in the feeling of his hands on you, on the heat his movements sent through your body. 

"Okay, maybe I could stand to work on my romancing," he chuckled, a sound that made your heart swell. "But what I’m trying to say is… I like you," he confessed, his voice brimming with a sincerity that made you breathless. "You’re my best friend, and you’re so beautiful, and so hot. And I like you."

"You like me?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Fuck yeah I do.”

His hazel eyes bore into yours with an intensity that sent a jolt of electricity through your veins, an intensity that made you feel exposed before him, as if his gaze had the power to strip away every layer of doubt, of apprehension. 

"Loser," you whispered, your voice soft, teasing. You felt a blush on your cheeks, a heat that traveled up your neck. There was something about the way he spoke to you, about the confessions he had made, something that made you feel timid, meek. 

Cassian's grip tightened ever so slightly on the base of your neck, slowly pulling you even closer to him. You ran your hands along his wrists, feeling the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin.

Cassian's voice lowered. "Maybe, for you." he murmured, his gaze holding yours with unwavering intensity. "Do you like me too?"

“Maybe.”

"Maybe?" Cassian repeated, his voice a low rumble. There was a flicker of something in his eyes, a hunger that made your core clench. Leaning in closer, he closed the distance between you, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered into your ear. "Seemed a bit more than maybe when you were writhing on my cock.”

His warm breath sent shivers down your spine, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. You felt his stubble against your cheeks, his hands tightening around the base of your neck. 

Your breath hitched, “Cassian.”

"Yeah, baby?" 

The name had you practically melting in his touch. Cassian's voice was laced with a husky warmth that sent a shiver down your spine, a neediness pooling at your core. As he spoke, his lips brushed softly against your cheeks, his mouth moving lower, caressing the sensitive skin of your neck with a gentle fervor. 

Your eyes fluttered closed, a soft whimper escaping your lips. Each kiss sent a new wave of pleasure coursing through you, each hair on your body on end. The kisses were gentle, passionate, and you were already soaked, your breath ragged and heavy. You could smell your own arousal, could smell his even stronger. The scent made your mouth go dry, made you excited at the images that began to form in your mind. 

"Kiss me." 

You didn’t need to tell him twice. Instantly, Cassian responded to your plea, his lips meeting yours in a heavy kiss that left you breathless. His hands held your face as you reached out to pull him closer, your fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair, gripping at them as he moaned into your mouth. 

His touch was sure, confident, as he began to help you shed your clothes, fingers fumbling with buttons and ties in a hurry. Your hands were frantic as you helped him peel his shirt off, trailing a finger across his wings as he groaned. His pants came off next, the sweats easily pulled down and discarded. You ran your hand along his clothed length, hard and ready underneath this underwear— those quickly came off too, your fingers eagerly helping to rip them off. 

There was no time for hesitation, no room for doubt— not now, not anymore. Every touch of his set your skin on fire, igniting a passion that you could feel consuming you with every second, with every gasp you let out. And you welcomed it, eagerly pulling him closer, wanting to be as close to him as possible, wanting to make up for lost time, for the entirety of this week, for the centuries you’d spent missing out on this. 

You could feel how ready you were for him, wet and slick between your thighs, legs rubbing together impatiently as he pulled apart to fully scan your naked form before him. It was then that you became aware of the open air on your skin, at how your nipples responded to the chill, peaked, pink, and eager. Your mouth went dry at the sight of Cassian, his body illuminated by the faint faelight in his room, his wings extended out proudly, dominant. 

“You’re fucking stunning, sweetheart,” he praised, “I don’t tell you that enough, huh?”

And then he was on you again, wide hands, warm and rough with callouses and scars, ran up the length of you, one pulling you in by the base of your neck, the other grabbing at your breasts. You registered some movement, your steps taking you backwards as Cassian led you to his bed. When the backs of your calves hit the base of his mattress, you fell back onto his bed, pulling him with you. 

His hands were all over you again, grabbing at your skin, at your waist, roughly bringing your breasts into his palm. You weaved your fingers through his hair, grabbing at his scalp as he lowered his mouth onto your neck, trailing kisses down your body. 

You looked down at him, watching as he took a nipple into his mouth, sucking at it while you mewed underneath him. He released it with a small pop, and then he was pulling away slightly, a finger trailing over a small spot on your skin where a previous mark of his was left, now small, almost faded. He glanced up at you, a look in his eyes that made you gasp, made you clench everything below your waist. 

“We can’t have these disappearing, now can we?”

He brought his mouth back onto your skin, sucking and biting at the area, his other hand roughly palming at your other breast, pinching the nipple between his fingers. You pulled at his hair even harder, small sounds of ecstasy falling from your lips like gentle rain. Cassian welcomed the sounds, feeling his heart flutter, feeling his cock grow harder with every moan he pulled from you. 

“Better,” Cassian said, lifting himself off you with a wolfish grin “Now everyone will know who you belong to.”

The words shouldn’t have made you melt as much as they did, shouldn’t have made your cunt throb at the idea— but it did. Every part of your body was filled with a warmth that spread through you, consuming you in a lustful, vulnerable haze. You couldn’t say anything in response, couldn’t move. All that you could do was whisper his name, chant it over and over again like it was the only word you knew, the only word you needed. 

"Fuck," Cass groaned, meeting your gaze as he pushed himself upright. His face was pinker than before, flushed cheeks and glassy eyes, his large fingers wrapping around his cock. He pumped once, then twice. You watched as Cassian lowered himself, shuffling between your spread legs. He wrapped his arms around the tops of your thighs, pulling them apart further to slot himself in between. His wings shivered behind him. He looked up, his hair falling over his forehead, into his brown eyes. 

“Been dreamin of this since that night.”

And then he dragged a finger up your core, collecting the wetness that had pooled, glistening and gorgeous before him. You jumped, an immediate response to his touch, and Cass cooed softly in response, continuing his exploration until his finger was resting on your sensitive clit. It was already throbbing beneath his touch, a hot pulse of desire that seemed to radiate throughout your entire body.

“So needy,” he whispered, in awe. “And so damn wet, Cauldron baby, this all for me?”

He circled it carefully, moving slowly and gently, teasing your clit with delicate, little nudges. The sensation was exquisite, a perfect blend of pleasure and anticipation that left you breathless and craving more. Cassian knew, now, exactly how to drive you wild. You could feel your arousal building, your body responding to his every touch.

“Oh Gods,” you whispered, hands fisting your sheets. “Please.”

You weren’t sure exactly what it was you were begging for, what you wanted more. You wanted him, wanted to feel him, his mouth, his tongue, his fingers, his cock. 

He closed his mouth around you, his tongue pressed firmly against you as he gently sucked. You let out a high-pitched gasp, your jaw hanging open, eyes tightly shut as vibrant colors danced behind your eyelids, sparkling like fireworks, as Cassian continued to lick and suck at you, repeating the same rhythmic pattern. You arched your back, meeting his tongue with eager enthusiasm.

Cassian pulled back slightly and smirked, bringing his middle and pointer fingers to his mouth, getting them wet with his saliva before pushing them into you. Cass groaned at how easily they slid in, at the glistening wetness that pooled around your hole. Your head fell back onto the mattress, overwhelmed with the feeling of his fingers inside you.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, Cass.”

Cassian's tongue moved greedily over your clit as your cunt fluttered around the base of his fingers, pulling him in closer, drawing in his touch even more. Cassian swore at the sensation, his lips parting around your cunt as he sucked hard. Your back arched, legs falling away, ass lifted up for his attention. You pushed yourself against his mouth, against his fingers, unrestrained, eyes tightly shut, hands fumbling for something to grab onto. 

“That’s it baby, say my name,” Cass groaned, pulling his mouth from your cunt, pupils blown wide as he stared up at you. He increased the speed of his fingers, curling them to massage the inside of your walls.“Touch your tits for me, sweetheart, play w’them.”

And you did. Your hands moved to your breasts, grabbing them roughly, rolling your nipples in between your fingers as he worked his tongue around your clit, fucking you with his fingers. 

Then you were gripping him by the base of his neck, hands weaving into his hair as you pulled him up to you, his body frantically crawling over yours, hands braced on the mattress. Your lips met his with urgency, a mix of greed and desperation. You sighed in satisfaction as Cass groaned, opening his mouth for you immediately. You pushed further into him with your tongue, a hand sliding further into his hair and tugging gently. You moaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue, a heat rushing through your body at the memory of him merely moments ago, suffocating between your legs, lapping at you like a male dying of dehydration.

When you pulled apart, you were breathless, foreheads leaning against each other. You looked at him through your lashes, lids heavy with lust, with desperation to be filled with him.

“I need you inside me.”

Your voice was quiet, a soft plea that made Cassian feel feral. He felt it straight down to his cock, throbbing and ready, aching to feel you clenching around him, to feel you falling apart. 

In a swift movement, he stood up and flipped you over, your breath leaving your lungs. You let out a small squeal as he pulled you onto your knees, following the movement to kneel behind you once more. He roughly spread your legs so that you were spread bare before him, your glistening cunt on full display. He let out an animalistic groan, his hands roughly grabbing your ass, kneading the flesh roughly. 

“You’re telling me I could’ve had you like this all week?”

The sound of his voice alone made you moan, made you squirm underneath him as his hands ran up and down your hips, down to your thighs. He ran finger through the wetness at your core, leaving hot, wet, and open kisses on the backs of your thighs. He pulled his mouth away for a moment, his finger still running through your folds. You let out a sigh of protest at the removal of his mouth, but soon you felt his lips down on your ass once more— as he bit the skin, leaving a mark of ownership, a claim to him.

“Cassian!” 

He stood up, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of you before him, spread wide and beautiful, slick and wet, shining with anticipation for him, for his cock. You looked over your shoulder, watching as Cass smirked, lifting a hand slowly.

The first smack on your ass was startling, hard enough to warm you, heat blooming over the curve of you keened, eyes slipping shut. Your head fell back forward, resting on the mattress. He stroked his cock, allowing it to glide against your entrance until both of you were slick with your desire. 

“You’ve made me wait. I want to hear you beg for it, sweetheart.” You could hear the grin in his voice as he slapped your other ass cheek. “Show me how much you want me."

You sucked in a breath and pushed your ass out further, back arched real pretty, your cheek squished against his mattress, pressing into the soft sheets below you. 

“Cass, please, please.” 

Cassian let out a pained groan and then pressed against you, his chest melting onto your back as his cock slid in, creating a tight, hot, wet stretch. His body pressed against yours even harder, the warmth of his skin seeping into, what felt like, your very being. You felt the muscles in his thighs against you, working in rhythm of his movements as he fucked you, thrusting into you with a pace that had you writhing underneath him. The room was filled with the scent of sweat and desire, a heady mix that only heightened the sensations coursing through your body, a smell that made you drool. 

“I missed this,” Cassian growled, “Couldn’t stop thinking about fucking this pretty pussy.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, lost in a haze of pure pleasure as you focused on the feeling of Cassian inside you. Each thrust sent cool, electric, shivers down your spine, the sensation of being filled and stretched by his cock causing you to clench around him, begging for more.

His hands gripped your hips with a firm grasp as he drove himself deeper into your body.The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, ragged breaths and incoherent praises falling from both of your lips. With one hand still on your hip, Cassian leaned forward and sunk his other into your hair, tugging you back up with him— a little rough, possessive. He brought your face to his, cheek to cheek as he murmured against you, his breath hot. 

“Fuck, Gods, Y/n,” he groaned out, his voice raspy, deep. He sounded breathless, the words stuttering out of him with every hard thrust. All you could do was moan, letting your body emit every sound that formed in your throat. Cassian’s hands were heavy and bruising, exploring every inch of you as he fucked into you harder, faster. Palming at your hips, your stomach, over the column of your throat. A hand settled there, squeezing at the tender flesh on your neck.

“Whose pussy is this? Huh?”

He asked, breath harsh, voice wrecked. The heat of his body against you made you feel like you were on fire, every part of you being filled with him, warm and pliant in his hands. You wanted to sob with it all, at the pleasure that you were feeling, at the flutter in your chest and the coiling in your stomach. 

“Yours,” you managed to whisper, moving a hand behind your head to frame his face, to delve your fingers into his soft, messy hair. You felt Cassian twitching inside of you, his grip tightening on your throat, the other hand gripping onto your tits. 

“Yeah, baby,” His voice filled your ears as your head fell back into his, his tongue running alongside the side of your neck. He gave you a small bite, quickly sucking to soothe the pain. “Fuckin’ made for me, sweetheart.”  

His hand dropped from your breasts, trailing down your body as he rutted into you faster. His fingers found your clit, rubbing circles around the sensitive bud. You arched into him, your hand grabbing at his hair tighter, harder, causing him to groan into your neck. His cock slid deep inside you, filling you completely, and you swore you could feel every vein and every ridge as it rubbed against your sensitive walls, as his length stretched you out with every stroke. It was all so overwhelming, suffocating in the best possible way, your pleasure building up, coiling deep within your core. 

The sounds you were emitting made Cassian feel as if he truly were a God, chasing after your release, every sweet sound of yours fueling him to take you, to make you his. 

"Cass, oh gods, Cass, please." 

His name on your lips drove him even wilder, thrusting into you harder. 

"I know, baby. I can feel it. Come for me, come with me."

You felt Cassian’s heart pounding on your back, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fucked you. And with another roll of his hips, you were falling apart, clenching around him, both of your eyes slamming shut as he tumbled over after you, falling into the bed. The sensation of your pussy tightening around him caused his own coil to snap, one final thrust into you before he was filling you with his desire, coating the walls of your cunt with his seed. 

He pulled out, cock slightly limp, glistening with your combined fluids— a trail of his cum and your wetness tied you two together, his seed slowly dripping down your core. The sight of it alone had his cock twitching again, stirring at the fact that you were filled with him.

It was beautiful— you were beautiful, breathless before him, body limp with ragged breaths. Cassian was a lucky, lucky man.

That thought also made his cock stir again. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹  

As you leaned back against Cassian's chest in the warmth of the bath, a sense of peace washed over you, gentle and comforting. You welcomed it with open arms, your tired, achy muscles relaxing in the water. Steam filled the room around you, creating a cozy cocoon of comfort, a quiet air that made your heart hum. Cassian's arms encircled you protectively as you leaned against his chest, feeling each rise and fall of his breaths. 

Cassian was gentle when you had finished, his touch soft as you laid on the bed, watching as he brought a warm cloth to your body. He was adamant on being a gentleman, on being tender as he cleaned you up, on running a bath that he had insisted on carrying you to. There was a deeper care, a thoughtfulness in his actions now that touched your heart, made it flutter in a way that had you blushing, cheeks tinged pink with admiration. 

With a soft chuckle, you broke the comfortable silence, your voice filled with a soft tone that made Cassian’s heart beat faster.

“You like me,” you whispered, as you ran your hands along his arm. 

“Actually,” he breathed, placing a small kiss to the top of your head. “I think I’m in love with you.”

And then, as his words sank in, a wide smile spread across your face. You turned to look at him, a rush of warmth flooding your chest as you met his eyes.

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah," he replied, his own smile mirroring yours.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

a/n: for everyone who asked for a part 2, i hope you luved this as much as i did. i just luv these two dummies. be on the look out for a lil valentines day inspired blub of them &lt;;3

[arieslost]

fireproofs | ln4

summary: lando norris is hot and the 2024 fireproofs drive you crazy.

word count: 756

warnings: suggestive comments

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

you’ve been grateful to mclaren for many things over the years, but aside from a fast car, this has to be the best gift they’ve bestowed upon you.

you don’t think it’s an exaggeration when you say that your jaw unhinged the first time you saw lando wearing the new black fireproofs that mclaren has him and oscar in for the 2024 season. he’d sent you pictures, along with a text saying, “what do you think? 👀”

you’d responded with “yeah, not bad” and subsequently spent the next half hour screaming into your pillow. you were able to save face over text, but now that testing is here, you’re a lost cause.

you’d seen lando in black fireproofs before, but something about this year is different. something about him is different. he’s more confident, more determined, and he somehow managed to fill out even more during winter break.

lando had felt bad for mclaren’s car launch sabotaging your valentine’s day, so while you were in the middle of insisting that it wasn’t a big deal, he was booking you a plane ticket to join him in bahrain for the grand prix and testing the week before.

so now, you’re twiddling your thumbs as you sit in your boyfriend’s driver room, both anxious to see him before his testing session begins and hoping he’ll be occupied on the pit wall for just a little longer so you can figure out how to keep your composure once he changes into his race suit.

“you’re still here?” it comes out like half an exclamation and half a question as lando slips into the room.

“you haven’t even gone out on the track, of course i’m still here,” you giggle when he pulls you into his arms and starts pressing kisses all over your face. “i can’t wait to see you put the car through its paces. oscar looked pretty good out there.”

“i’d rather put you through your paces,” he mumbles in your ear, and you smack his shoulder.

“maybe later, if you’re not too tired.”

“i’m never too tired for you.” he winks and kisses your nose before turning to change.

you have no shame in ogling his ass out of the corner of your eye as he does so, but for the most part you’re looking at updates from the first session on your phone until he sits down next to you to put his shoes on.

those damn fireproofs.

they hug his body a little too nicely. the muscles in his chest, back, and arms are perfectly defined courtesy of the tight material. you can’t even think about his shoulder to waist ratio without feeling a little dizzy with desire.

“you’re drooling,” he teases as he stands back up, the both of you knowing damn well that he loves it when you stare at him.

“i can’t help it, you’re too hot.” you’ve never had a problem with telling him just how fine he is, especially because your praise always manages to make him blush and that just makes him impossibly more attractive.

“how am i supposed to let you leave this room?” you complain, wrapping your arms around his torso.

he buries his red face in your shoulder. “the sooner i leave, the sooner i come back and show you a good time.”

“i thought you were taking me out to dinner.”

“that’s what i was talking about,” his tone is dripping in faux innocence, and you know he’s messing with you when you feel him kiss your neck. “good to know where your priorities lie, though.”

you open your mouth to patronize him, but you’re cut off when he squeezes your hips, causing you to yelp. “you are impossible.”

“hmm, good thing you love me so much then.” you can hear his smile as he speaks, and you run your hands across his back, feeling every ridge of muscle through the material of the fireproofs.

your phone starts buzzing in your pocket— the alarm you’d set to remind yourself of when he needed to get in the car. “alright,” you reluctantly separate yourself from him, taking one last lingering look at his figure before he pulls the other half of his race suit on. “i’ll stay for an hour or two and meet you back at the hotel, okay?”

“what dress are you wearing tonight?” he asks as he holds the door open for you.

“the papaya one,” you smirk, and he groans, dragging a hand through his hair.

“you’re gonna kill me, baby.”

note: i wrote most of this at 2 am in a purely feral state and did the bare minimum in editing because i’m drowning in schoolwork so apologies if it’s a bit rough!! mclaren posted a 10 second video of lando and oscar walking around and that was all it took.

lowercase is intentional because i wrote entirely on mobile!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are always appreciated <33

beautiful dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @emmma232 @lieswithoutfairytales @valisjustvaleria @bwormie @meribfox @xfuckoffx @rai-scutum @clara760-blog @reptaysgf @harryismysworld @caz-93 @positiveaspirations @satanfinalgirl @ln4lova @crazymofo-96 @x-d1vine @anedpev

[theemporium]

YAYYYYY I FOUND IT FINALLY

hi love hope ur doing well

can i request 💛and no.16 with lando?

thank u sm i love ur work🤍🤍

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

16. massaging them

.

“Oh fuck, that’s the spot.”

You couldn’t help but snort, the noise joyful and bashful. “Shut up, I have neighbours!”

“Not my fault you’ve got hands crafted by the gods themselves,” Lando retorted, his words slightly muffled by the way he buried his face in one of your pillows. “It feels good. I might have to replace Jon with you.” 

“I’ll pass,” you laughed, shaking your head in amusement even if he couldn’t see. “You seem like a needy client.” 

He let out a high-pitched noise of complaint. “I’m a fucking delight, I’ll have you know.” 

“Yeah, that’s exactly why you barged into my apartment demanding a massage,” you replied, sarcasm dripping from your words. 

It was only partially an exaggeration to the truth. 

With summer break in full swing, it meant that Lando finally had time to relax and step away from the crazy, intense world that is Formula One. It meant he had time to spend with his family and friends that he didn’t usually get during the season, even when they came to race weekends. It meant he could pretend to feel a little normal, even if his life was far from it.

Except for the fact he still had to train like a Formula One driver. 

Which he was insistent he could do without the help of Jon. He insisted the man deserved a break of his own, to enjoy his vacation before they had to return to Woking later in the month. He insisted he would be able to follow his routine without the man watching over him. 

And he could do it. He just forgot the aftermath of it all, which was how he came storming into your apartment after his latest workout, whining and complaining about how stiff and sore he felt. And somewhere in his complaining, you agreed to do Jon’s job for him. 

“People don’t complain this much about helping their friends,” Lando commented, turning his head to the side so his cheek was squished against your pillow and his words were no longer muffled.

“People also don’t sound like they are filming a bad porno when they are getting a massage,” you shot back, finding some pleasure in the way Lando’s cheeks burned pink at your words. 

“Please,” he huffed out, clearing his throat in bed. He tried to stay light-hearted, playful, jokey. He tried to focus on the banter, rather than the way your hands felt across his skin. “This isn’t even close to what I sound like in bed.” 

“I know.” 

“I sound so—” He paused, his brows furrowing as he processed your response before snapping his head back to look at you. “What do you mean, you know?” 

“Carlos was your teammate,” you shrugged, trying to bite back your smile. “And he was always in the room next to you in hotels. He’s heard some stuff.” 

“I—” Lando tried to speak but words failed him. Memories flashed through his mind, nights he had spent in his hotel room alone. Nights where his hand was wrapped around himself with you on his mind and your name on his lips and—

“I’m kidding!” You laughed, unaware of his internal dilemma as you pushed him back down on the bed, your hands smoothing along the backs of his shoulders. “Carlos didn’t hear shit. I’m just winding you up.” 

“Pfft, yeah, I knew that,” Lando laughed nervously, his heart hammering in his chest despite your reassurance. “Carlos wishes he knew what I sounded like in bed.” 

“More like you wished you knew what he sounded like,” you snorted. “Your crush on Carlos wasn’t subtle.” 

“Yeah,” he murmured, burying his face into your pillow once again. “My crush on Carlos. Totally. That was it.”

.

[forget-you-morelike-fuck-you]

That's What Friends Are For- E.M.

I've been really thirsty for Virgin!Bestfriend!Reader x Eddie so I poured myself this taaaallll drink of water. Hope you love it xx

You've never had an orgasm, and Eddie would be happy to help remedy that.

Part 2

Masterlist

TW- 18+ MINORS DNI!! Cursing, mentions of smoking, heavy petting, pet names (angel, sweetheart), a lil crying (but in a good way), fingering (lmk if I missed any)

Pairings- Virgin!Bestfriend!Reader x Eddie

Word Count- 4,802

(Gifs not mine, credit to owner!)

It wasn’t something that you’d normally ask, but with the haze of weed clouding your senses and the exaggerated moans of the poor actress being exploited for the dumb action movie you and Eddie were watching out of sheer boredom, you couldn’t help yourself. You turn to Eddie, the cogs in your head turning in overtime as the words reach your mouth before you can even put too much stock in them, “What does an orgasm even feel like?” Your eyes narrow as you imagine it, the sounds of the woman on screen echoing in your mind. There’s no way that real people sound like that, no, this is just some stupid movie that you and Eddie had never even heard of before digging it out of the pile of tapes beneath the TV. “I mean, I guess it’s gotta feel good, but does it feel that good?”  

While you ponder the probability of the sounds onscreen being at all accurate for real-world scenarios, Eddie’s face pales, the light high he’d been enjoying completely knocked out of his body at your words. Despite being best friends for the past several years, you never really talked about your sex lives with each other. For you, it was because it didn’t exist. For Eddie, it was because the only person he really wanted anymore was you. Every other person in town combined couldn’t interest him half as much as you, and he had definitely looked. Pining after your best friend for years wasn’t really something Eddie was interested in doing, not that it helped. Of course, the only reason you hadn’t made a move—aside from the fact that you were thoroughly terrified at the thought of being rejected—was because you thought that Eddie was something of a ladies’ man. You knew he was much more experienced than you, not that that was a difficult feat, but you knew that he at least went on dates. And you never wanted your attraction to him get in the way of your friendship anyway. If he liked you, he would’ve made a move sooner, right?  

Wrong. 

Eddie had fallen head over heels for you about a year after you had met, both of you juniors in high school. You went away with your family on vacation for a couple weeks that summer and came back... different. You were more confident, and even though it had only been a short separation, you looked different, more womanly than gangly teenager. He liked you before, but some switch inside his chest flicked, like the lights were finally turning on in some long-forgotten roller coaster ride. He’s had it bad for you ever since, suffering in silence because he knows how shy you used to be, and still are to some extent. He would never, ever want to do or say anything to make you uncomfortable, including putting his feelings on the line in exchange for your amazing friendship.  

Still, the news that you didn’t know what an orgasm felt like was surprising. He knew you were private about your dating life, and he always respected that. But you had had boyfriends before. And you were both in your early 20s now. Surely you had been with one of them. Or even figured it out on your own... 

“What?” is the brilliant response that flies from Eddie’s lips as his brain short circuits. You look back at his face, having wandered away, lost in thought. Eddie half expects you to backtrack, but still, to his surprise, you double down. 

“What does an orgasm feel like?” He can tell your Mary Jane consumption must be fueling this line of questioning, but if you’re really curious... 

“Um, well...” Eddie flounders, trying to find the words to say. You keep your focus on him, your thoughts trailing only slightly as you wait for him to respond. “It... It does feel really good. I don’t know exactly what it feels like for women, but for guys, at least, for me, it’s like my whole body kind of explodes, but in, like, the best way,”  

You mull this over for a moment, your eyes darting between Eddie’s face and the screen, which has since moved past the over-exaggerated sex scene back into shootouts between the good guy and the bad ones. “Okay, well, have any of the girls you’ve been with ever sounded like that?” You were genuinely curious, trying to imagine what could feel that good and coming up blank. 

Eddie chuckles a bit, eyes flicking up in a memory, “Well, one, but I’m pretty sure she was faking. Some women think they have to sound like that because that’s what the movies show them they’re supposed to sound like. But really, there are all different kinds of... sounds... that people make when they’re feeling that good,” he explains, his surprise relaxing now into amusement just slightly. 

“Oh,” You look back at the screen, apparently done with your questions. Eddie feels his heartbeat fading back into its normal rhythm after the near heart-attack you had inflicted upon him, and things go quiet for a minute before you turn your head back toward him, mouth poised open to speak. “Do you think—Never mind,” You quickly shove the thought back down your throat, remembering that Eddie’s not supposed to know you’ve been in love with him forever.  

The possibilities of what you were about to ask him makes his heart race again, until he’s burning to know. “What is it?” He asks, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. 

Your lips press together and shake your head as a heat spreads over your face, giving you a moment of clarity amid the warmth of the high. “No, it’s okay, it was a dumb question,” You wave your hand in dismissal, and pray that Eddie doesn’t press it further in fear of your mouth working faster than your logic. Of course, you have no such luck. 

“There are no dumb questions. If you want to know something, all you have to do is ask. Would I ever judge you for anything? And really think about that, because I’ve seen you pick a pickle up off the floor and eat it,” He laughs, trying to diffuse the tension. It helps a little, and with his reassurance and that fleeting moment of clarity far away, you open your mouth again, hesitating as you find the right words. 

“Do you think... that you could maybe... show me?”  

Eddie’s eyes bulge from his skull, and he’s afraid that his heart has totally stopped for a minute. But after an agonizing moment, a thick thump of his heart breathes life back into him, and he can only pray that you can’t hear it as it loudly thump, thump, thumps in his chest.  

“Show you..?” It’s a begging question. He’s not exactly sure which part you want to learn, and he wants to make sure he doesn’t assume anything. 

You turn away again, the mortification laying over you in a thick blanket. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have... You can forget it,” 

Eddie doesn’t want to mess this up, and the visions of you making such pretty little sounds for him, or better yet, unraveling under his touch, automatically send all of the spare blood in his body downward, so quickly that he almost becomes dizzy. He has to make an effort to shift his body to hide his growing erection as he tries to reassure you. “No, no! Don’t worry, I’m listening. It’s okay, I swear! What do you want me to show you? I... I can do my best,” His voice is sincere, sincere enough to make you look sheepishly back at him, your lashes low as you try not to look in his eyes. 

You take a deep breath, your head buzzing with adrenaline as you form the words. “Would you show me how to have an orgasm?”  

Eddie swallows hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing in his throat. He’s trying so hard to make this seem as chill as possible, for both of your sakes. If he gets too eager too quickly, there’s no way he wouldn’t just bust in his pajama pants, and he might scare you. His mouth is dry as he nods quickly, “Um, yeah. I- I can definitely try,” He watches as your face grows redder by the second, but you give a small smile, one that makes Eddie lightheaded again as another shockwave of want shoots through his half-hard cock. “Do you want to go to my room?” He asks softly, gauging the look on your face as you still avoid his eyes.  

“Yeah,” You murmur, but your legs won’t move. There’s a want in you, despite not knowing how to indulge it, and as Eddie gets up from the couch, offering a hand to you, you take it and squeeze, finally looking up at him. Eddie feels like he might faint in that moment, your hazy eyes doe-like and innocent, not making it any easier for him to keep calm. He pulls you up to your feet and you follow him, your hand in his, to his room.  

You shut the door behind you, flicking the lock on the knob despite being the only ones home, and turn to face Eddie, who stands just behind you, still not believing what might happen. “S-so, um...” He begins, feet shuffling beneath him. “For girls, it’s a lot harder to... finish. It takes a lot of warming up first,” Your brow furrows. 

“Warming up?” A blush breaks out over Eddie’s cheeks, and he reaches out to let his fingers trace up your arm, ghosting over your shoulder and up your neck. A breath hitches in your throat as his palm cups your face, and suddenly, you think you might know what he means. Nevertheless, he explains. 

“It’s a lot easier when you’re feeling good from other things first. Like touching, kissing... things like that. It can be painful if you don’t do it right,” Your lashes flutter as he leans in slightly, and you can feel his warm breath fan over your face. 

“Oh,” Eddie lets out a breath of a laugh at your breathless response, and already you feel yourself turning to putty in his hands.  

“I want you to tell me if you don’t like something, okay? Don’t try to spare my feelings. If you want me to stop doing something, or you want me to do something specific, you tell me. Okay?” The demanding edge in his whispers snaps you back to reality, and you feel a warmth building deep within you. It’s nothing like you’ve ever felt before. Sure, shadows of this have been felt watching risqué movies with sex scenes or kissing your prior boyfriends awkwardly in the backs of their cars, but that pales in comparison. This is a new, deep burn in the very depths of your body. 

“Mhmm,” You try to lean closer to him, to feel more, but his other hand goes to your waist, holding you in place. Your eyes meet his, and they’re unexpectedly hard, his brown eyes serious as he looks at you. 

“I need you to say it. I need to know you can say it,” Your breath stutters again at his words, but still, you find your voice. 

“I- I don’t like that,” You whisper, and it’s all you can do. Eddie nods in approval, but his eyes want you to continue, “I want you... I want you to kiss me,” You can hear the hammer of your heart in your ears, your blood singing as the anticipation grows. Eddie’s eyes return to their normal softness, gazing into yours like he’s seeing the sun set over the ocean for the first time.  

“Are you sure?” Eddie whispers as he inches toward you, his face leaning down ever closer. This might be the closest you’ve ever been to him, and the thought sends a delicious shiver up your spine. His nose just brushes yours, and your eyes flutter shut. 

“I want you to kiss me, Eddie,” It’s barely a breath, but he hears you, and gently, gently, his lips meet yours, barely a brush of skin against skin. You hear him suck in a deep breath before letting his lips move against yours a little more firmly, the hand on your waist snaking around your back to pull you closer to him. You let your hands find the back of his hair, which is up in a cute, messy bun, and your fingers wind themselves around a few loose, curly tendrils there. Then, Eddie’s lips move across your cheek, down toward your jaw, and the first sound comes loose from your lips. 

It’s a tiny noise, but it might as well have been Eddie’s favorite song, the way he revels in it. He can feel the pounding of your heart in your chest as you press yourself against him, not really knowing what to do other than let Eddie work his way down your neck with his lips. “E-Eddie...” You whimper, hands gently grasping at the fabric at the back of his worn t-shirt.  

Eddie stops then, immediately, waiting for your instruction. He had gone too far, hadn’t he? He had done something to make you uncomfortable and now you’d never ever talk to him again... “Can we lay down?” You ask, breathy and quiet in his ear. He presses a firm kiss to the top of your shoulder in relief, elated that you were enjoying what was happening before pulling away. 

“Yeah, let’s get you comfy,” He smiles one of those easy, lopsided smiles that takes your breath away, and you feel the butterflies that usually reside in your stomach move downward to your core. You instinctively clench your thighs together to try to squash the foreign feeling, but as Eddie moves to lay down, you see the bulge in his loose pants, and it sends a new swarm flooding your body. With a deep breath, you join Eddie and lay next to him, his face only inches from yours. His hand reaches toward your face, gently brushing a few stray hairs behind your ear. “Do you want to just keep kissing, or are you ready to try something else?” He asks. You think it over, biting the inside of your lip as you bite back the embarrassment of being so inexperienced next to him.  

“Can we try something new and still do some kissing?” You smile sheepishly, not being able to hold his gaze as your face heats. He lets out a small laugh, not at you, but because you’re so nervous. 

“Yeah, we can do that. Is it okay if I touch you? I can just try a few things and you can figure out what you like,” He suggests, his eyes roaming over you. You’re not wearing a bra, because you never did when you and Eddie were just lounging around watching movies and smoking, something Eddie had to get used to quick when your body started really developing. Once or twice when he was a few years younger, he had to fake an upset stomach just to relieve his aching cock in the bathroom upon seeing your pert nipples through the fabric of one of his old t-shirts. 

“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” With your permission, Eddie’s fingers gently reach the hem of your shirt, slipping under and running his calloused fingertips over the smooth skin of your side. You let out a gasp, your eyes screwing shut, and he notices the way your hips move of their own accord, trying to scratch an itch you’ve never felt before. He has to bite back a moan of his own just at the sight of you, so beautiful, so willing beneath his capable hands. He lets out a shaky breath as his hand moves up your side, leaning in to kiss you like he said he would, like he was aching to do again, and you accept his lips greedily, your hands pressing into the sides of his face as he glides across your skin, not light enough to tickle, but enough to send tingles over your skin, goosebumps forming in the wake of his caress. 

When his hand comes to cup your breast, not daring to flick over the sensitive nub just yet, you let out your second noise as he gives a little squeeze there. This one is muffled by his lips, pressed firmly to yours, and the vibration of it shoots straight down to his cock, which twitches willfully in his pants, wanting you more and more every second that passes. 

With a light touch, Eddie lets his thumb just brush your nipple, and it sends an electric shock through you, leading to your third noise, a much sharper sound that almost sounds painful. But when your lips press into his even harder, Eddie is only spurred on and he does it again, then lets his full hand grope over the full mound, rubbing across your breast with his palm. Eddie lets his tongue trace over your bottom lip then, and you open your mouth to him, not really knowing how to kiss with tongue, but unwilling to stop to make a comment about it as your body ignites to a new level of fire and electricity.  

Your legs are continuously rubbing together now, the friction glorious but not enough, and you want to feel more. You’re panting in between the long stretches of kissing, and while you don’t want to stop, you also need to tell Eddie what you want. So, instead of rushing back to his kiss, you press your thumb gently to his bottom lip, pupils blown with need. “Can you take my shorts off?” You ask, your confidence building. Eddie nods all too eagerly, and he gets up onto his knees to shift town toward your bottom half. You roll onto your back and lift your butt to make it a bit easier for him, his hands finding purchase at your hips, fingers dipping just below the waistband when he stops. 

“Do you want me to take your underwear off too?” He asks, wanting to be sure. You bite your lip again as the embarrassment floods back. 

“I’m not wearing any...” You admit, giving a small smile. His hands grip at your hips a bit harder then, and his sharp breath only helps your growing need. This is the most beautiful you’ve ever seen him, towering over you like this. You can see the long outline of his length through his pants now, and you let your mind wonder what could happen if this goes even further than you originally intended. It’s enough to make your hips roll in Eddie’s hands as he starts pulling down your sleep shorts. You close your eyes, trying to keep your embarrassment from making you chicken out when you’re finally about to get what you’ve always wanted. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes, and your eyes shoot open as you stare at him, mortification building in your chest. 

“What? Is it bad? Do I look weird?” You ask in a flurry. Your hands go to cover your face, thighs clenching together to spare yourself when Eddie pries your legs apart again. 

“What? God no! You look... You look fucking amazing,” There’s a wonder in his voice, and you peek through your fingers to find him staring down at you, the look on his face amorous, hungry almost, like you’re his favorite meal in the world. It takes you aback, but nevertheless, there’s a twitch in your hips again, seeking a friction that you can no longer achieve for the time being. Eddie gently lowers himself on top of you, and you let out a moan when you feel the fabric of his pants brushing over your bare pussy. You let your hands fall as you try to push yourself into him, but there’s a hand holding onto your hip now to keep you down. “Oh my god, please, can you try not to do that right now? I am already in serious danger here, angel. If I feel even a little bit of you against my dick I’m fucking done for,” Eddie breathes a laugh to cover the moan in his voice, his face hovering over yours. 

“B-but I want—” Eddie cuts you off with a deep kiss, his hand squeezing into your hip as you desperately try to feel him against you again. 

“Not tonight, sweetheart. I want this one to be about you, okay? If you still want to in the morning, we can circle back,” Eddie offers, and you give a small nod. “Okay, then. I’m gonna touch you now, okay? I’ll go nice and slow. If you want me to change what I’m doing, just tell me,” You nod again and the hand gripping your hip travels down and his lips meet the hollow of your neck, giving just a tiny nip at the skin that sends your hips up again in need. Eddie tries to hold it in, but he can’t help but moan softly against your skin as he continues his journey.  

His fingers ghost just over the sensitive bud of nerves then, and the shock that goes through your body is even more intense than before when he was playing with your nipple. Your arms fling around his back and you grip the fabric of his t-shirt like a lifeline. “I’m gonna take good care of you,” Eddie whispers as he travels up your neck, “I’m gonna make you feel so good,”  

The promise is punctuated by a soft circle around your clit, and your whimper is so pathetic it startles you as it tumbles from your lips. You can feel how wet you are now; how hot your core is against his fingertips. It’s so blissful, so wanton that you feel your walls clenching around nothing, another new feeling that sends your head reeling. Eddie continues his gentle pattern around your bud, sucking sweet bruises into the skin below your ear between whispers of sweet nothing that spur you forward on your quest into the unknown world of this beautiful feeling. 

“E-Eddie,” You plead, head thrown back in pleasure. Your fingers pull his shirt so that your hands connect with his skin, “Can you go—Can you go a little f-faster, please?” Eddie nods into the crook of your neck as he complies, fingers moving just a bit faster, a bit firmer against you, and your chest starts heaving in pants again, moans spilling from your mouth more freely now. You grind into his hand pathetically as the intense pleasure grows. You feel like you could cry at the feeling, so blissful and beautiful and everything you’ve ever dreamed of as Eddie works you further and further, his lips only ever leaving your skin to whisper sweet nothings to you. 

“You’re doing so good... I can’t believe I get to do this for you... Been wanting you like this for so long...” Eddie nips and sucks and licks across your neck, up your face, across your lips, and you’re just so consumed by him that you feel hot little pinpricks in the corners of your eyes, your throat going thick as the tears begin. 

When Eddie catches sight of the first one, he slows his work on your core, afraid that you had changed your mind. “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” You feel a pang of panic then, not really knowing why but knowing that you were desperate to reach the edge you were approaching. You pull at his shirt, not being able to verbalize your excruciating need for a second. 

“No, no!” You plead, “Don’t stop, please... I just... Please don’t stop...” You don’t know why you’re crying. Maybe because it feels so good, maybe because the emotions are just so new that your body is startled by them. Either way, Eddie is reluctant but believes you, because he trusts you and you trust him so completely that you don’t think that there’s any way that either of you would or even could hurt each other. 

Eddie picks up the pace again, his lips focusing on yours now to help keep you from crying. Your fingernails scratch up his back as you whine and writhe beneath him, coming closer and closer to something. There’s a tenseness in your stomach now, and it’s building. There must be a precipice close, a pinnacle to all of this pleasure and need Eddie has been giving you. Your panting breaths become more ragged, and Eddie gets the feeling that you’re close. 

“That’s it, angel. You gonna cum for me?” He practically moans against your mouth, and it’s another agonizing minute of this pressure inside you building before you feel it.  

Your hands clench Eddie’s shirt as you unravel. Your tears are flowing freely down your face, mouth open in a loud moan that reverberates on the walls of Eddie’s small room. Eddie keeps drawing circles over your clit as you ride through the waves of your first ever orgasm, kissing down to the top of your chest and back up to add to the pleasure. Finally, you feel it start to subside, the wide waves lessening into ripples as your breath starts to even out again. Eddie slows down again, and finally stops after a few more seconds, wanting to draw out your bliss as much as he can. He kisses you deeply, the hand on your pussy traveling up to grip your side, sliding up past the hem of your shirt as he holds you firm. You can feel the slick on his fingers cooling down on your skin, and it sends a new wave of shivers through your body.  

You kiss each other for a long time, not wanting to go back to reality where you’re just friends, but finally you have to pull away for air. You look at each other, both of you quiet. There’s a new electricity in the air, charged with the anticipation of what you’ll say to each other now that everything has changed.  

“How was that?” Eddie settles on, his brow set in a concerning furrow. He wants to make sure that you had the best experience he could’ve offered you, because that’s what you deserve. You deserve to feel this good all the time. 

Your soft eyes bore into his and you nod slowly, trying to etch every detail of this night into your memory forever. “It was amazing. You are...” Your hand comes to hold his face, and he leans into your touch in such a way that your heart melts for him even more. “You’re so amazing, Eddie, thank you.” You give a little laugh then, at how silly it sounds for you to thank your friend for giving you an orgasm. Eddie laughs a little too, and he stretches his lips to kiss the edge of your palm. 

“Anything for my favorite girl,” He whispers, smiling that easy smile that you love so much. Pride sparkles in your chest at his words. God, you love him so much... 

“So...” You feel a blush creeping on your face again, “You’ve been wanting me... like this?” You think back to the words he whispered against your neck that made your insides turn to mush. 

Eddie flicks his eyes away from you, embarrassed. “You caught that, huh?” 

“Was I not supposed to?” You giggle, your smile sending shockwaves through Eddie’s body. 

“Well, I just didn’t think you would. You seemed to be pretty distracted if I recall,” He jabs playfully, his gaze returning to you. His eyes soften at his next thought, “What do you think about that?” 

This is it, this is where everything changes. It’ll never be the same after this. “I...” You begin, building your courage. “I’ve been wanting that, too.”  

Eddie’s face moves through confusion, surprise, and then settles on joy, his smile widening to reach his sparking brown eyes. “Yeah? You’ve been wanting that too?” Your smile matches his as you nod, letting out a breath of a laugh with the relief settling in your chest. 

Suddenly, Eddie squeezes you in a bone crushing hug, peppering kisses over your face as you giggle. His lips settle on yours again, and it’s like taking a drink of cool water after wandering in the desert. You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to this, but by God, you’d be happy to. 

You keep kissing and cuddling for a long time, talking like you usually do, how best friends do, but now it’s just better. Best friends, but there’s no more hesitancy, no more wishing for more, because now, you have everything you could ever want. 

[penny00dreadful]

And They Were Roommates!

Part 2 AO3

Steve didn’t hate him exactly.

He was just… vastly irritated by his very presence.

When they’d fallen into being roommates with Eddie, Steve and Robin were just happy to have anywhere to live. 

They’d spent a few weeks living in the ageing BMW after they’d gotten booted by their previous landlord when the rent had spiked again and they couldn’t afford to pay it anymore.

Then Dustin had come to them saying he had a friend that had a spare bedroom that he needed to fill and they had jumped at the chance. 

It wasn’t a terrible apartment, all things considered. 

The bathroom needed a bimonthly mould clean out and the water pressure was nonexistent. It was almost always colder inside than it was outside, no matter how hot the weather got and the front door had clear signs of being broken down before, with a new lock haphazardly slapped over where the old one had been but it was shockingly quiet and secluded. 

A small and unassuming building that people tended to glance over sitting close enough to the city centre so that everything was within walking distance. It was twice the size of the place Steve and Robin had lived before, an open plan kitchen and sitting room with enough room for a dining table creating a barrier between the two. 

A nice dining table too. 

One that could fit more than two people.

Two bedrooms, one bathroom. 

Eddie had apparently wrinkled his nose at the idea of sharing with a couple but Steve and Robin weren’t about to correct him. He was a completely unknown person who seemed to make it his mission to look mean and scary, no matter what Dustin said about him. 

So Steve refused to feel bad about making assumptions.

But the guy was less mean and scary and mostly just annoying.

He left his shit everywhere, like he’d never heard of fucking organisation before. And he was so loud and exuberant all the time. Like yeah, they guy could enjoy his passions or whatever but that didn’t mean Steve had to like being an unwilling participant in it.

When Robin moved out, Steve stayed even though it was clear Eddie would have preferred if he'd gone too. 

He wasn’t going to give up a good place just because his roommate was a lot. 

And he certainly wasn’t going to give up a good place just because his roommate kept dropping hints he wanted his special someone to move in and Steve to move out.

Steve would show Eddie the meaning of stubborn.

They bickered like an old married couple constantly and Steve couldn’t exactly say that he hadn’t risen to the bait or caused his own fair share of problems between the two of them either.

Things had only marginally shifted once Eddie had proudly stuck up a flyer advertising the set list for the Pride Parade After Party that his band had somehow been signed to perform at.

When he caught Steve looking at it one morning he’d levelled him with his smuggest smile, like he’d just won some kind of argument. Like he was just waiting for Steve to go on a homophobic rant and run out of the apartment, never to return.

“Got a problem there, Stevie boy?”

Eddie crossed his arms loosely over his chest and leaned back against the kitchen counter with a feral look in his eyes, itching for a fight.

Steve had just turned to him with his sharpest, most cutting grin and lifted open the zippered side of his bomber jacket, revealing his bi pride flag patch sewn to the inner pocket.

“No.”

Eddie had glared at the patch like it had personally offended him before storming off to his room with a scowl.

After that, the barbs thrown at each other had gotten a little more… queer.

After one particularly frustrating argument, Steve had snapped at Eddie “I know how to keep a fucking shower drain clean, Mary.” before snatching his keys up and slamming the door behind him.

When Steve had finally seen fit to talk to Eddie again, nearly two full days later, huffing at him to hurry up in the kitchen, he wanted some coffee, Eddie had turned with the most exaggerated face of surprise and his hands thrown up in shock as he proclaimed, “She speaks!”

Steve had rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Jesus, you’re such a queen.”

Eddie had levelled him with his own cutting smile and responded, “That I am, darling.”

After that their arguments were full of a lot more condescending and patronising ‘Mary’s and ‘sweetie’s and ‘oh, honey’s.

It gave Steve the strangest feeling of companionship. Not only with Eddie, loathe as he was to admit it, but also with the culture and with the queers of old who were still around, who’d had to kick and spit and fight just to be seen.

Eddie had been buzzing around the apartment all day. 

It was A Big Date Night™ apparently. 

He was gonna ask the boyfriend to take a road trip with him back to Indiana to meet Wayne, a big step that he’d never made with a partner before.

Steve liked Wayne. But he liked even more how irritated Eddie was that they spoke. Wayne had called the apartment one day looking for his nephew and when Steve answered he heard the sounds of a game in the background and asked about it.

It was over forty five minutes later Steve turned to find Eddie staring at him with a horrified expression on his face and Steve couldn’t help the evil glint in his eye as he continued to debate Wayne on their favourite players.

But Eddie had left hours ago now and it was getting… late.

Really, really late.

Like four in the morning late and he hadn’t come home yet.

He was supposed to, he needed to be up the next morning for his shift at the nerd shop he worked at and he loved that job. He wouldn't miss it for anything.

Steve wasn’t like, worried or anything.

Not that Eddie needed to be babied, he wasn’t one of his kids. 

He was just… looking out for the safety of another human being.

The only light in the dark apartment was coming from the low glow of the tv and it was so quiet there was barely a sound coming from the speaker. Steve was curled up on the couch, swaddled in a throw and his mind kept drifting. 

He couldn’t pay attention to whatever was playing, his brain just kept catastrophising about what the fuck could have happened to make Eddie so late. 

He nearly jumped out of his skin and simultaneously felt his body unclench when he heard a key in the lock and recognised Eddie's wild head of hair coming into the apartment.

But that didn’t last long because Eddie caught the door before it could close with a loud snap like it usually did, shutting it slowly and softly behind him.

It was alarming because Eddie never remembered to close the door quietly, no matter how much Steve bitched at him. And it wasn’t like he was doing it on purpose, Steve knew that, it’s just that his mind was most often somewhere else, focused on some other thing so that he simply… forgot.

Eddie cursed low to himself as he slumped into the kitchen, pulling the freezer door open and rummaging around for a bit before pulling something out.

He kept his head low, hair spilling out around his face as he jumped up onto the counter and sat. 

He still hadn’t noticed Steve sitting there, watching the whole exchange under the dim flickering light of the television.

It looked like Eddie had snatched up a bag of Steve’s frozen peas. And they were Steve’s. Because Eddie didn’t eat anything green unless it was artificially coloured and covered in sugar.

Eddie squeezed the peas in hand hands, considering, before he muttered to himself, “so fucking stupid” and brought them up to rest on the side of his face.

That kicked Steve into action, unfurling himself from the couch, keeping his throw around his shoulders because it was fucking cold and he padded over to the kitchen in his fluffy socks.

“Eddie?”

Frozen peas scattered, skittling across the tiled floor, landing in the sink, ricocheting off the cupboard doors and clattering off the walls as Eddie jumped violently at the sound of his name, softly spoken as it was. 

He’d snapped his head up and Steve could see, in the dim light of the tv behind him, unusual darkness spreading over Eddie’s face, like a stain on his pale skin.

Eddie tightened his hands again around the now mostly empty bag, looking back down at it. 

“‘M sorry about your peas.” He mumbled.

Steve could only blink in response. 

Eddie wasn’t supposed to mumble. 

He wasn’t supposed to be quiet and subdued and wilted. 

He was supposed to be loud and brash and tawdry and bright.

“I’m gonna turn the light on, okay?” Steve tried to keep any rising panic and worry out of his voice, tried to keep himself calm and level. He could barely just make out the small nod Eddie gave after a beat of hesitation.

The light was harsh and painful after so long spent in mostly darkness and Steve had to squint through his glasses waiting for his eyes to adjust, but when they did he felt his stomach drop.

Eddie's face was scrunched up as he tried to blink through brightness but that wasn’t what caught Steve’s attention. 

Because there was blood crusting on the side of Eddie’s face, settled around his eye and in his hair from a gash over his eyebrow. His lip was split and puffy and swollen and his cheek was slowly blooming from red to purple.

“You should see the other guy.” Eddie grinned with a wince, when he noticed Steve cataloguing, but his eyes stayed distant and sad.

“What…” Steve stepped closer, hovering his hand over the injuries, over his hair. “What happened?”

Eddie shrugged, dipping his eyes back down to the melting bag of peas in his hands. “We had a disagreement.”

Steve looked down too and gently took the peas out of his grip, placing the bag in the sink next to them. 

It was only then that he noticed Eddie’s knuckles were bloodied as well, split and starting to swell.

He had to swallow against the sickening anger coiling in his throat as he closed a gentle hand around Eddie’s cold fingers and he tugged it over to the sink, turning the tap on. 

“Your peas-”

“Fuck the fucking peas, Eddie!” Steve snapped before trying to reel himself back in when Eddie flinched, nearly pulling his hand away but stopping himself at the last moment.

With the softest movements he could manage, Steve got Eddie’s fingers as soapy as he could before slowly working his rings left and right, pulling them off his fingers.

“What are you doing?” It wasn’t quite a whisper but the question was low, almost like a hum.

“Your fingers are going to start to swell soon. I can leave them on if you’d rather have them cut off later?” Steve looked up to see Eddie watching their hands working together under the dribble of the tap. 

He shook his head.

“Well okay then.” He tugged the last ring free and examined them, silver and wet and heavy in his palm. 

There was still some dried blood in the grooves. 

“Did you at least get him good with these?” He gestured to them before placing them carefully to the side and gently towling Eddie’s injured hand dry.

A smirk tugged at the uninjured side of Eddie’s mouth. “You’re damn right I did.”

Steve gave a short sharp nod, placing Eddie’s hand back in his lap. “Good.” 

He moved over to the freezer, pulling out his own cold compress which Eddie hadn’t chosen for some reason and tugging the first aid kit from on top of the fridge.

“So are you going to tell me what happened?” He said, trying to keep his voice even and his posture lighthearted as he laid the stuff out next to Eddie’s leg. He pulled their second drawer open and took a clean dish towel out, running it under the tap.

“Why, Stevie? You worried about me?” Eddie tried to grin but it quickly turned into a grimace as Steve pressed the damp cloth against the cut on his eyebrow, his lips turning down.

“Don’t be precious about it, honey. Just tell me. I’ll never stop pestering you until you do.” He pulled the cloth away and started gently brushing it across Eddie’s skin, trying to remove as much of the dried blood as he could.

“Alright, alright, keep your wig on.” Eddie huffed and pulled his mouth into a frown before shrugging again. ”Well I’m single now.”

Steve managed to keep his hands working, only halting for just a second as the words hit him. “Rick did this?”

“Yep.” Eddie said with a pop. “Everything was going good, you know. Standard date stuff, whatever. Then I asked him to come meet Wayne and he looked at me. Said, and I quote; ‘What exactly do you think this is?’”

Eddie snorted and shook his head. 

Steve was forced to pull the cloth away to stop tugging on the broken skin. “Wait so-”

“So apparently I’ve been seeing this whole thing as more serious than it was. Apparently I’ve been putting feelings where there were none. And get this,” he grabbed Steve’s hand, stalling his movements again and forcing him to look into those giant deep brown eyes, “he’s married.”

Steve felt his mouth drop open in an indignant stare. “No.”

“Yeah. I know, right? I’ve been the other woman this whole time.” He brought his hands up to make air quotes. “Just a bit of fun.” He tongued at his split lip. "And it's my problem, my fault that I didn't figure it out, according to him." He shook his head, forcing Steve to retract his hand from around his eye. "The fucker took his wedding band off every time we met, so…"

Rather than grabbing Eddie gently by the chin, which he was really, quite horrifyingly tempted to do, he instead said, "Be a dear and stop moving."

Eddie levelled him with a glare but there wasn't much behind it, it was all performative even as he tutted and started twisting the chain on his jeans around in his fingers. But he stopped moving his head.

"So how did that lead to this?"

Eddie scoffed. "How do you think, Mary? I got mad."

"Well good. You should've been mad. Did you throw the first punch?"

"Technically?" Eddie hummed in consideration. "Yes. But he had his hands on me before that soo…"

Steve froze, he couldn’t help it. 

What the fuck?

What the fuck?

"In what way?" He kept his voice light but the bright white concern underneath was like a foghorn. 

Eddie shrugged again and turned his head, giving Steve more access to the blood crusted above his ear and into his hairline. 

Then he leaned forward just a little bit more until his forehead was resting against Steve's shoulder.

Steve reached back to pull Eddie's hair out of the way, over the back of his neck so he could clean up his hairline.

Neither of them spoke for a few moments, the silence wasn't tense but it wasn't calm either. It was anticipatory. Eddie was building himself up to answer.

"He didn't see a problem with the situation, I mean obviously he didn't see a problem with the situation so he just wanted to… continue, I suppose. We'd been… experimenting with switching before this and he tried to go full dom on me. Kept trying to get me to submit." Eddie's voice had started to shake even though he tried valiantly to keep it down and it made Steve wonder just how long he'd been keeping it down already. 

Steve dropped the cloth off in the sink and brought a hand up, resting it on the back of Eddie's still bent head, making sure not to cage him in, making sure to keep his touches light and gentle but still there if he wanted them.

"I didn't- I didn't want to anymore but he just kept going and I told him he wasn't asking my consent, he was demanding it. He said I had to do what he wanted because he was in charge and that’s how it works-” 

“Eddie, that is not how it works-”

“Yes, thank you, darling. I know that. I told him that wasn't what's done, no matter the dynamics and he was just getting more and more pissed off, like I was ruining his fun and he wouldn’t get off of me so I just… fucking decked him." Eddie laughed, a terrible broken thing. “I thought… I thought we had… it had been so good while… why can’t I have… why does it always have to end like this?”

His voice had become harsher, more defeated as he went on, cracking and pitching along the words until the end. Until a heart wrenching choked off sound was pulled from his throat.

Eddie was weeping softly into Steve’s shoulder and his hands were twitching in his lap, like he wanted to reach out, like he wanted some comfort but didn’t know if he was allowed. 

But he must have decided he didn’t care if he was allowed or not because the next second he’d thrown his arms around Steve’s shoulders and pulled him in tight, sniffling openly and freely into his neck.

Steve took the tiniest of steps closer and wound his arms around Eddie’s middle, bypassing his leather jacket and battle vest, snaking his arms underneath until there was just the threadbare band t-shirt between them.

He ran a hand up and down Eddie’s back as he shook, while Eddie just clutched on tighter.

“Why does it always have to be… why can’t I… why…” a terrible little sob broke out of Eddie’s throat. “Why does no one ever want me the way I want them?”

Steve had to pinch his eyes shut against the pure heartbreak in his voice, coming out halting and thick and so small. 

He just held him tighter, whispering little placating words and small shushes that he felt more in his chest than he did his throat. 

He hesitated for just a moment before placing a light little kiss to the side of Eddie’s head, into his hair. The same kind of kiss he’d give to Robin or one of the kids if they were in the same situation. 

That was all.

“God.” Eddie muttered, pulling back and scrubbing his hands roughly over his eyes and nose, apparently uncaring of his injuries. “Your shirt is fucking disgusting.” He eyed the stains and wet patches and no doubt little traces of blood he’d accidentally left there. “What makes you think that’s an appropriate state to appear in?”

Steve just rolled his eyes, taking the lighthearted jab for what it was, a want to move on, to start snarking again and cracked open the first aid kit. 

“Your face is disgusting.”

“Yeah, well. You’re the one who’s been cleaning me up, sweetheart. So, who’s fault is that?”

He glanced up at the cut over Eddie’s eyebrow. 

“That might need stitches.”

“No stitches, can’t be bothered with stitches.”

“Stitches not punk enough for you?”

Eddie did glare at him for that.

“Don’t even. You know I’m not a punk.”

Steve grinned at him. “No?”

“Steven.”

Even through the heavy talk, Steve relished the sight of the slight smile that had appeared on Eddie’s face and his return to bitchy banter.

“Edward, is there a difference?” Steve shrugged as he fished for supplies in the kit. “Doesn’t seem to be.”

“To you, maybe.” Eddie flicked at a piece of his hair. “God you’re such a… you’re such a jock.”

“Wow,” Steve raised his eyebrows, “let’s add observant to your list of positives.”

“Assho-ow!” Eddie shrieked as Steve pressed a butterfly bandage over the wound.

“You’re a giant pain in my ass.”

“Only if you ask nicely,” Eddie growled at him, irritated and snappy, “you perpetual bottom.”

“Excuse you,” Steve snapped back, “I switch it up. I have versatility."

“Uh-huh.”

“But you gotta admit,” Steve flashed his most charming grin, “it’s a lovely bottom.”

Eddie scoffed but there was a red flush starting to creep up his neck. “S’not like I pay much attention to your bottom.”

“Oh, Eddie,” Steve gave a disappointed sigh, “everyone pays attention to my bottom.”

He didn’t get a response, just a bitchy roll of the eyes.

“You gonna call out of work tomorrow?” He dropped the cloth into the sink and crossed his arms as Eddie leaned back on his hands.

“Why? So you can mother hen me all day? No, thank you.”

“Oh sweetie.” Steve regarded him with mock sympathy. “You think you’d be lucky enough to get my mothering?”

“What if I die in my sleep tonight? You’d be inconsolable.”

“Yeah. Simply devastated.” He said as he all but pushed Eddie off the counter and herded him back to his room.

Part 2 AO3

@augustjustice @geekymagicalpotato @wormdebut (I remember you showing interest for this one but I won't tag you again unless you ask! 😘)

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation.

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