#yup yup couldn't stop thinking about this

[save-the-villainous-cat]

"What's up, Supes?"

The hero froze. The file was basically glued to their hand. They looked up, only to find the villain lean against the doorway. They wiggled with their eyebrows, a smug grin on their face and admittedly, the hero had to swallow.

"Hi."

"Whatcha up to?"

"Just, you know...cleaning."

"Cleaning?"

"Yup."

The villain shook their head and clicked with their tongue, clearly not buying any of the hero's lies. It had been a perfect plan. Up until now. The hero cursed under their breath.

"How long has it been? Three months?" the villain asked. They pushed themselves off the doorframe and approached the hero with slow, careful steps.

"Three and a half, if you want to be nitpicky," the hero said. They didn't know what to do with the file in their hands, let alone with themselves.

"Mhmm. So, we haven't seen each other in three and a half months and now you're at my party. In my office. Cleaning."

"You got it." The hero made very awkward finger guns and winked, as if that could come close to saving them.

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice you?" the villain asked. They laughed softly. "That I wouldn't recognise you?"

The hero shrugged lazily. They were so fucked.

"Ahh, come on. It's not like you weren't hoping for this to happen, huh?" They leaned over the table, one hand on it, the other hiding the file behind their back. "Isn't destiny such a funny little thing?"

"Well, I was hoping to see you again. I didn't want you to steal from me, though." The villain stopped at the other side of the table and leaned forward, almost like the hero. "The file, Supes."

"I don't really like that nickname."

"Superhero. Supes. You'll manage." The villain offered their hand, expecting the hero to give them the file. "I can also call you Darling if you want me to."

Suddenly, the hero's nervousness turned into embarrassment.

"I was on sabbatical."

"Bullshit."

"I was busy...missing you?" the hero tried and at least that worked a little. The villain crossed their arms in front of their chest, raising an eyebrow.

"Go on."

"Oh, you know, I was really busy with superhero stuff. Saving people, arresting villains...and all of that just made me think of you and well, here I am!" They smiled brightly to make an attempt to trick the villain but both of them knew it was a rather sad try. "Surprise!"

"You're adorable." The villain walked around the table and the hero didn't dare to move. "Just tell me you were busy with...I don't know, a certain project I am not supposed to know about?"

Uh-oh.

"Whaat? You're crazy."

"A certain mission?"

The hero panicked. No one was supposed to know about this, least of all the villain. So, there wasn't exactly a solution except for impulsive decisions. The hero didn't always perform perfectly under pressure. Without really thinking, they grabbed the villain and kissed them hard. As a response, the villain hummed quietly. Caught off guard but definitely satisfied. The hero found it quite adorable.

They didn't really know what they were doing. The last time they had kissed anyone was for some publicity a few months ago. But this was different. They could feel their heart rage in their chest, as if they were going to explode any second now. Although they were quite experienced, they couldn't remember this ever happening.

Surprisingly, the villain not only kissed them back, but also pulled them a little closer.

For a moment, the hero lost themselves in the intimacy but then, they pulled out the handcuffs. With a click, they cuffed the villain to their own computer.

"You're evil," the villain whispered against their lips. The hero's hands were shaking. They had never kissed anyone like this. It had never felt like this before. They didn't want to think about the implications.

"I'm your Supes," the hero said. With the villain cuffed, they felt a little more confident. "Don't steal files just because you want to see me."

"Says you."

"This is really important and you should not put your nose into someone else's business."

"Again, rich coming from you," the villain said. They scrunched their nose. "Let me guess, this is too dangerous?"

"Exactly," the hero whispered. "I'll...I'll see you once this is all over."

They took one last look at the villain before they walked out of the office.

[salamandergoo]

STWG Prompt: Buzzed/Shaved Head

"Woah, what the hell?"

"Hi Lucas."  Will sat down at the table, acting as casual as he could.  "Good morning to you too."

"That's not- what did you do?"  Lucas stared at Will with wide eyes.  "Where'd your hair go?"

"Cut it off."  Will shrugged, taking a bite of his cereal.  "I mean, I thought it was time for a change.  And El's been... she's been upset about her hair.  She'd been growing it out so long, it's another thing that got taken away from her.  So I thought... you know, I could do something to show support."

"That's... kinda sweet.  It doesn't look bad, you know.  It's a good look, actually.  Once you get past the shock."

Will's lips twitched.  "Thanks."  He ran a hand over his head, the short hair bristly against his palm.  "It does take some getting used to, I guess.  But I wasn't really doing anything with my hair anyway.  Just let mom cut it when it got too long.  So last night I asked Jonathan to shave it off for me."

"I mean, it looks good, I'm serious.  Maybe short hair was always the right look for you."  Lucas nudged his foot against Will's under the table.  "You're a good brother."

"Yeah, I try."  He grinned, almost bashful.  "And it's nice to make a change."

Mike joined them, looking tired, eyes half shut as he sat down.  "Mmh."

"Good morning to you too."  Will snickered.  "Sleep okay?"

"Slept like shit."  Mike rubbed his eyes and finally opened them to look at Will.  "Um."  He stared for a long moment and Will was shocked to see the barest shade of pink rising in his face.  "Your hair, it-"

"Yeah, I woke up and it just looked like this."

"What."  Mike blinked a few times, pretty obviously still waking up.

Will snickered.  "I'm kidding, oh my god.  I did it last night.  Jonathan helped.  What do you think?"

"What do I think?"  He just kept staring, going quiet for a long moment.

Will felt his heart start to sink and tried to remind himself that it didn't matter what Mike thought.  It wasn't like he could take it back, he couldn't grow his hair back just because Mike didn't like it.  "That bad?"

"No!"  Mike shook his head rapidly.  "No, that's not- good.  It's really good.  You look really good.  I mean, your hair.  It's good.  You look good."  The blush darkened, his cheeks red.

"Oh."  Will could feel a blush of his own rising.  "Thanks Mike."  He touched his hair again, not used to the texture under his fingertips.  "It's different, but I thought it was time for different."

"Different is good.  You're good.  You look so good, I mean-"

"Mike?"  Lucas spoke up, eyebrows raised as high as they'd go.

"Hm?  Oh, hi Lucas."

"Stop talking."

"...yup."  Mike nodded and sunk down in his sat like he wanted to hide.

Will couldn't help his wide grin or the hope blooming in his chest at the look on Mike's face and the way he was tripping over his words.  He tried to push it down, but maybe, just for a little bit, he'd let himself be content with it.  "Thanks Mike.  I'm glad you think it looks good."

[illyrianbitch]

And I'm Thinking About Your Lips

Pairing: Reader x Cassian

Summary: You and Cassian have been best friends since you were teenagers-- just friends. But one night at Rita's changes everything and now you cant breathe when you're around him and he can't stop imagining how you'd taste.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT! like porn with plot aka: best friends to lovers, sexual tension, alcohol use, drunken handsy moments, two dummies in love, male masturbation, unprotected PIV, fingering (f receiving), oral (f & m receiving), dirty talk, sex sex sex! we love sex!!

Word Count: 19k (a biggie!)

a/n: heavily inspired by my fav song mistakes like this by prelow. give it a listen for the vibes ;) I was going to make this multiple parts but decided against it. lets imagine Rita's like a lil more modern club okay mwuah enjoy.

Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Rita's was loud.

On busy nights like these, the place was a complete sensory overload– live music with thumping bass and swirling laughter. The air was thick with the mingling scents of sweat, perfume, and the occasional waft of arousal, a delicious smell that often lingered in Rita’s. You loved nights like these, loved the energy that came with finally being able to let go. You let out a content sigh as you watched people dance across the dimly lit club, enjoying the music that vibrated through their bones.

You stood next to Cassian at the bar, leaning against the smooth surface as you awaited the drinks you had ordered. He was in the middle of telling you a story-- or at least you think it was a story. You couldn't tell.

"What?" you exclaimed loudly, leaning forward in a futile attempt to decipher his response. Frustration etched across your face, you took a step back, gazing up at Cassian. Your eyebrows furrowed, and you shook your head while gesturing emphatically to your ears. "I can't hear," you mouthed, hoping he'd understand.

Cassian's initial confusion gave way to realization, his mouth forming a distinct "Ooooh." Leaning down, he bridged the distance between you, his lips hovering above your ear  to deliver his words in a loud whisper.

And then it happened—a giggling drunk couple bumped into Cassian, disrupting his balance. His lips, which had initially hovered near your ears, now made a brief but intimate contact, running along the shell of your ear. 

Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your veins, the warmth permeating your entire body. Or perhaps it was the pulsating energy of the crowded dancefloor. Whatever it was, you felt it—a shiver tracing a path down your neck, following the curve of your spine. Awareness dawned on you—his proximity, his breath on your ears, the almost electric closeness of your cheeks, the way his disheveled hair framed his face.

He pulled away, a smile playing on his lips. He mouthed something, but you were lost in a daze, barely registering that those plump, red lips were actually forming words.

"Y/n?" he called out, raising his voice to be heard over the music. "You got that?"

Blinking, you shook your head, dispelling the lingering traces of your thoughts. A smile curved on your lips as you replied, "Yup." 

You had no idea what he said, hadn't caught a word of what he was whispering in your ear. But at that moment, it didn't seem to matter. Internally, you chastised yourself— it's just the alcohol, that's all it is. After all, Cassian had always been attractive. You just happened to be drunk and noticed it a little bit more. Appreciating the beauty of your best friend, completely platonically. 

The bartender returned with your ordered drinks, placing them on the bar with a lingering gaze that hinted at an appreciation for more than just the cocktail he had crafted—one directed entirely at you. Your attention, however, was occupied by the lively atmosphere around you as you spared the bartender a quick glance, grabbing your drink. Cass, on the other hand, picked up on the admiration, staring at the bartender and tucking away the information in the back of his mind.

As you both turned to leave, Cassian's movements synchronized with yours and his arm rubbed against your own, sending a subtle brush of warmth through you. You paused for a beat. The warmth was still there. You hated it. A realization dawned – you needed more alcohol. 

With a silent determination, you gave Cassian a "one moment" gesture, holding up a finger. Cass watched as you turned back toward the bar, leaning forward to catch the bartender's attention. When he turned to face you, you placed your hand lightly over his. 

"Actually," you said with a smile, “Can we get two extra shots? Of your strongest." 

The bartender gave you a smile back and nodded in acknowledgment. In no time, two additional shots, robust and potent, joined the lineup, arranged neatly on the polished surface. Cassian frowned, flickering his gaze between you and the shots. You felt his presence as he leaned in and instinctively took a step back, not turning to look him in the eyes.

“We’re taking another round?” 

“Nope.” You said, popping the p. Without hesitation, you downed them both with a practiced ease. Finally, you looked up at him, making a face as the liquor made its way down your throat. “Those were for me.” Your voice came out in a croak.

Cassian raised an eyebrow in surprise, a playful smirk playing on his lips. 

“Someone is getting hammered tonight."

You simply nodded, a nonchalant "mhmm" escaping your lips. The alcohol ignited a warmth that spread through your veins, momentarily overshadowing any reservations. With the edge taken off, you were ready to rejoin your friends– with the exception of Amren, who was “too busy” to join tonight. 

Cassian led the way back to the booth, his hand finding its familiar place at the small of your back. Cass always did this when at Ritas, a gesture to ensure that you weren’t swept away by the sea of people. Yet, this time, it felt different. As he guided you through the lively crowd, you couldn't ignore the heat that radiated from his touch. Your heart quickened its pace. Its the alcohol-induced haze, you told yourself. Thats all. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Two hours later, Rita’s was still pulsating with energy and you were absolutely wasted. The vibrant atmosphere seemed to blend seamlessly with the warmth of your intoxication and everything around you seemed to echo with life.

You, Mor, and Feyre slowly returned to the booth for a much-needed break, hands interlaced with one another and glasses still full, waiting to be enjoyed. In your inebriated state, you teetered back and forth as you made your way to the booth, plopping down next to your best friend.

At your arrival, Cassian sat up right, waiting for you to do what you always did—lay your head on his shoulder. And, like clockwork, you fell into place, your head finding its familiar spot on Cassian's shoulder. 

"Look who decided to join the land of the living," Cassian teased as he nudged you gently. You felt him adjust his seating, his wings moving to accommodate your presence. The booths at Rita’s were large, the seats extra wide and spacious— for many reasons. You didn’t think too long about the ways people used the extra space. 

Instead, you chuckled at Cassian’s comment, the alcohol-infused haze making everything seem delightfully amusing. "Jus' exploring alternate universes on the danceflooooooor." 

The sound of your voice and the way you dragged out your words set Cassian into a small fit of laughter, a rich melody that blended with the music. The sound vibrated through his body and you felt his chest and his shoulders rise with it. The laughter resonated in your own as a result.

"Alternate universes, huh?” He asked, “That why you were grinding on Mor like a horned-up teenager?"

Craning your head slightly to look up at him, you gasped dramatically, feigning offense. He was already looking at you, his face tilted to the side to meet your eyes. There was a clear sense of amusement written into his face, the corners of his mouth turned up, a certain glow in his eyes. 

"I was not! How dare you judge me?" With a determined glint in your, now narrowed, eyes you added, "I never judge how you practically dry hump every woman you dance with."

Your best friend's lips curled into a grin, and his eyebrows lifted for a moment. There was a playful roll of his lips before he nodded, slightly chuckling. You got him there. 

"Okay, whatever."

You watched as he took a sip of his drink with his other hand, then lowered it to rest the glass on his knee. Leaning back a bit, a small giggle escaped your lips at nothing in particular. Then, you let out a laugh. 

"You're wasted." Cassian stated matter of factly, turning his head to look at where yours lay on his shoulder. Your laughter continued for a moment, ending with a sound of content. 

"Maybe." You replied as you leaned back a little, your head lolling backwards. Your eyes, framed by thick lashes, found Cassian's. You looked at him for a moment, taking in his face, his intense gaze focused on you.

"You're real attractive, Cass," you murmured, the words carrying a sincerity that caught him off guard.

Cassian didn't know why his heart leaped at your words. This wasn't something new. You had complimented him multiple times before. He knew he was attractive-- he knew you knew he was attractive. But there was something different this time, something in the way you bit your lip, gnawing at it with your teeth, the genuine look in your eyes.

"You think so?" he said. You wondered how his voice could be so soft, yet so husky. How was that possible?

You nodded lazily, not breaking the intense eye contact. "Mhm," you affirmed.

Cassian's gaze shifted, and suddenly he found himself studying your face. Your head tilted back, he took in the sight of your lips, the stunning makeup enhancing your features. You were gorgeous, he’d always known this-- everyone who saw you thought the same. But you were best friends, and the strength of your bond lessened the urge to explore thoughts of you that went farther than simple observation.

"You're not too bad yourself."

You perked up a bit.

"Yeah?" you asked eagerly.

Cassian gave a chuckle at your enthusiastic reply, noticing the way your eyes lit up behind their drunken haze. But before he could say anything more, Mor appeared, her hands outstretched, ready to pull you back onto the dancefloor.

"Y/n," She said, "Come danceeeee."

You looked up at her, your body slowly moving up right.

"But Cass and I-"

Mor whined.

"Feyre abandoned me for Rhys and Azriel is too busy being a gargoyle."

You snickered at her words, your gaze drifting over to where the Shadowsinger sat across the booth, a small grin on his mouth as he brought his cup to his lips. Then, you looked towards the dance floor, a sea of moving bodies with each person lost in the rhythm of the music. Sure enough, your gaze settled on Feyre and Rhysand, deeply entwined as they danced against one another, their bodies swaying together.

You returned your gaze to Mor, with her outstretched hands and a pouty face. You grinned, and she let out a small shriek of excitement at your wordless answer.

You placed a hand on Cassian's thigh, giving a small pat as you forced yourself up, the other hand in Mor's grasp. Cass held his hands up to stabilize you.

You turned to face him, your body slightly swaying.

"See ya later, Commander."

You gave him a drunken salute, the gesture slow and sloppy, before Mor whisked you away to the dance floor.

Cassian watched your figure as you retreated to the dance floor, unable to look away. He could still feel the lingering warmth on his thigh from where your hand had rested, as if an imprint of your touch had been left behind– he half-expected to undo his pants and find a charred handprint, a mirror image of yours. Your delicate hands, your soft skin, your slender fingers..... the thought sent a jolt of desire through him.

Stop it. Cassian's brain scolded him.

But still, his gaze drifted to where you were lost in the lively throng of bodies. The live music pulsed around you, guiding your movements as you moved with your usual demeanor of grace. The way you swayed to the rhythm, the fluidity of your gestures, it was mesmerizing. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to dance with you the way you were on Mor, without the barriers of friendship. To feel your body pressed against his, to lose himself in the rhythm and the heat that seemed to radiate from both of you.

His eyes trailed your body, taking in every curve and movement, and suddenly, he began to notice the way other males and females were doing the same. 

He felt a growing anger stir within him, an emotion he had never felt before, not when it came to you. It was a possessive rage, a primal instinct that told him he needed to protect you from these observers. The bodies around you, their gazes lingering on your body, only fueled the fire within him. They shouldn't be looking at you like that. They weren't worth your time--- weren't worthy of being able to admire you the way they were. He should do some-

His musings were abruptly interrupted by a chuckle from Azriel.

The sound jolted Cassian back to the present, and he turned to find his brother looking at him with an amused expression. Annoyance crept into Cassian's features as he asked,

"What?"

Az's amusement deepened, and he replied nonchalantly, "Nothing."

Although Azriel's response seemed innocent, there was a knowing glint in his eyes, a small smirk that he covered by bringing his cup to his lips. Cass was well aware that Az was hinting at something, but he was too lost in his own thoughts to care. All he could focus on was the uncomfortable heat in his stomach, feeling as if he was suffering from intense heartburn. But funnily enough, the feeling only grew heavier when he looked at you. 

Azriel down his drink before grabbing Cassian’s attention.

 "Let's get you another drink."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The night had surrendered to the early hours of the morning, casting a dreamlike glow over the city as you and your friends stumbled out of the vibrant chaos that was Rita's. The streets, now filled with the remnants of the night's revelry, echoed with the laughter and inebriated chatter of others who were also bidding farewell to a night spent well.

You walked alongside Cas and Mor, Feyre and Rhysand a few steps ahead. Azriel had left an hour prior; a smug expression adorned his face as he escorted a striking male with brown hair and green eyes-- the very one who had generously bought him drinks throughout the night.

You looked at the mated pair ahead of you, Rhysand's arm draped casually around Feyre’s shoulder. You watched as he leaned in, whispering something in her ear. Feyre suddenly stilled and turned around, an evident blush lingering on her cheeks. Rhysand looked at her with an amused twinkle in his eyes, then he turned his gaze toward your group, mirthful mischief etched across his face.

"We're not feeling that well, so we're going to go sleep." Rhysand declared, his words dripping with a level of unseriousness that made you want to laugh. But, not even Rhys could take himself seriously, the corners of his mouth soon turning up to form a pearly-white grin. 

Feyre playfully slapped his chest, but the grin on Rhysand’s face grew even wider, brightened by a child-like glee. With a final shared glance, the mated pair left. You smiled to yourself, thinking about how evident the couple’s love was and how much it made you want something similar. 

Before you knew it, only you and Cassian were left. Mor, who had been walking side by side with you both, had halted abruptly. A smile played on her lips. "I've got somewhere I want to go," she announced cryptically, winking before disappearing.

The intoxication in your veins rendered winnowing out of the question – too drunk to focus, and Cassian couldn't fly without risking an aerial mishap that involved either vomit or an unexpected plummet. Both options were less than ideal, so you both continued walking, the cool night air beginning to clear the remnants of your alcohol-induced hazes.

Cassian watched as you moved with a certain lightness, the effects of the drinks still lingering in your movements. Suddenly, you spun around, catching him off guard. His hands flew out instinctively, prepared to catch you if you lost your balance, but you paid no attention to the movement. Instead, you looked up at him with a small frown.

"Hey," you began, your words still slightly slurred. "How come everyone's getting some tonight, and here we are, feeling left out?"

He watched you for a moment, your stature, your slow blinks, how intensely you were staring at him. Cassian grinned. His eyes, veiled by a layer of playful charm, fixated on yours.

"Well, I'm right here,” He declared, “Say the word, and I'm all yours, allll night long.”

Cassain ensured that his words were delivered with a teasing tone, a tone he prayed masked the underlying desire he felt. You didn’t notice. All you could focus on was the burning in your chest, the way your heart tugged at his response. This was nothing out of the usual, Cassian flirted with you all the time. Cassian flirted with everyone.

So you let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the quiet night.

"Oh, please. You're such a pig," you retorted playfully, adding a mockingly dramatic eye roll.  Then you swallowed, forcing your next words out. "Never. Could you imagine?”

You didn’t want to see his face as he answered the question, too worried that it would hurt you in some way if he reacted appalled and disgusted. So, you turned yourself around and began walking again, focusing on the cobblestone road underneath your feet, at the cold air starting to bite at you. 

There was a quiet pause, and then you heard the small laughter of your best friend. He wouldn’t tell you where his mind wandered, now, when he thought of you, wouldn’t acknowledge the hurt that nestled itself quietly in the recesses of his thoughts.

“No. I couldn’t.”  

Another pause. Despite being out in the open, breathing in the fresh night air, you began to feel stuffy. A sense of discomfort wrapped itself around you. 

"How come you didn't go home with anyone?" You asked. You gnawed at your lip, waiting for his response, observing his reaction from the corner of your eye.

Cassian raised an eyebrow. He stopped to look at you, and you stilled, turning slightly to face him. When he gave you no response, you let out a small sigh.

"Y’know, like that one redhead giving you eyes back at the bar." 

You did your best to disguise the subtle irritation lingered in your tone, but beneath it, you felt a sense of bubbling jealousy. How was Cass so unaware? How come you were so aware?

Cassian's eyes widened slightly as he scrambled to recall the moment. Panic briefly flickered in his eyes as he realized he hadn't even noticed anyone else, his attention consumed by you. “Ohhh, her?” He finally responded, “Nah, tonight was just about hanging out with all of you. Y’know, family time.”

You felt a smile tugging at your cheeks. Family time didn’t stop Azriel, or Feyre and Rhysand. In your gut, you knew that it hadn’t stopped Mor either, the look on her face as she left screamed of a sudden lustful advance. Cassian’s answer deeply satisfied a part of you, for reasons you couldn't decipher at the moment. Your smile widened when he gave you a fond smile of his own. 

“Big ole’ sap.” You teased, affectionately nudging him with your shoulder.

You fell into another comfortable rhythm, walking alongside each other in silence as the echoes of night behind you slowly faded. Cassian could hear you humming faintly to yourself and a warmth filled his chest. You often hummed when you walked. When you were drunk, it was always a guarantee. Cass used to use it as a meter for your sobriety, detecting how drunk you were based on how horrible your humming was. Currently, it sounded angelic. But he wasn’t sure if he could trust his own judgment, not now, not when it came to you. Even as you walked side-by-side, he felt the urge to get you closer, made the effort to ensure your hands swung next to one another— that you bumped into his bicep every now and then as you walked. What was wrong with him? And why did you smell so good?

Cass cleared his throat, tilting his head down slightly to look at you.

“So, uh, speaking of people, why didn’t you go home with the bartender?”

You stopped abruptly, caught off guard by question. Cassian, too, halted in his tracks, a subtle maneuver to avoid colliding with your shoulder. Turning to face him, your eyes sought his in the dim light. "The bartender?" Confusion furrowed your brow.

His gaze, laden with an unspoken curiosity, met yours. He chuckled softly, shaking his head.  "Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

You paused, your thoughts weaving through the blurred memories of the night. Every image was muddled in your mind, a fusion of moving bodies and your hands picking up new drinks. God, how many did you take? You couldn’t remember. Your memory was hazy, unfocussed. There was only one thing in your mind that shone in perfect clarity– only one person. And it wasn’t the bartender. 

“Guess I didn’t.” You shrugged.

Cassian thought back to the bartender, a handsome male with short brown hair and blue eyes. The way he had stared at you, the way he had smiled. Cass’s mind found the memory of you reaching over the bar, your hand over the bartender’s, leaning in to request another drink. A flash of your smile. He fought the urge to make a face.

"Yup,” He said, “Gave you eyes the entire night. Half surprised they didn't fall out and follow you home."

He didn’t intend to sound bitter, didn’t mean for it to drip from the words he spoke. He couldn’t help it. But, by the look on your face, you hadn’t noticed. Yet again. Cassian let out a breath. It took a moment for his words to settle into your mind, and then you let out a snicker at the image painted by them. He grinned at the sound. 

"Well then, I'm really surprised I didn't notice." 

And you were. You were usually good at these things, at recognizing advances. You picked up on lingering gazes and touches that were one second too long. If Cassian was referring to the bartender you were thinking of, then he had been very attractive. On another night, you would have definitely noticed— and definitely taken the opportunity. But not tonight. Tonight was different, felt different. 

"Can't blame him," Cassian remarked, a touch of sincerity in his voice. "You are beautiful."

You blinked, your mouth parting slightly in shock. The words sent a flutter to your chest, and you could feel heat on your cheeks. You shook it off, letting out a sound of amusement and disbelief. It came out as a quiet snort.  "Shut up."

 "Not even mentioning all the males and females that were ogling you while you danced with Mor."

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. You were sure that the blush on your cheeks was on full display and only hoped that Cassian would assume it was caused by the chilly night air. You couldn't look at him. Instead, you shook your head, your eyes looking into the distance. Then, you rolled them and scoffed. "Oh, please. Now you’re just lying.”

You felt his eyes on you, still. You slowly moved your head to look at him once more, watching as his expression subtly shifted.

"No, seriously. It's like some couldn't keep their eyes off you." 

Cassian's gaze still lingered on you, unexpectedly soft and genuine. His features bathed in a tender glow, a small smile on his lips. His disheveled hair, tousled by the night's breeze, framed his face in a way that made you itch to rake your fingers through. For a moment, time seemed to pause as you stared at your best friend, your eyes tracing the contours of his shoulders and the majestic wings that adorned his back.

You found yourself taking him in for a minute too long, staring like he wasn’t right in front of you. The realization creeped up on you and you quickly looked away, finding somewhere, anywhere other than his gaze, to focus on. 

"Well, whatever," You muttered, turning yourself around to continue walking forward. You heard Cassian’s steps pick up behind you. “I’m over being casual. I’m tired of being with lame males who never make me finish, males who are so boring and entitled, males that are so stupid I begin to question my life decisions. All of it.”

Cassian's eyes widened in surprise, his mind racing as he tried to process what you had offhandedly mentioned. "Wait, what?" he said, his voice filled with confusion. "No one has ever made you finish?"

You weren’t paying full attention to what Cassian was saying, too caught up in your own thoughts and monologue about your new aversion to casual hookups. You waved him off, continuing to walk forward. 

Cassian's mind raced with thoughts of you and the males you had been with. He pictured you together, each of them trying their best to please you, their faces contorted with effort, their bodies moving in a frenzy. He pictured some outright ignoring your experience, jackknifing again and again, rutting into you like wild animals. But in his mind's eye, you remained distant, your face bored and vacant, making noises for show.

He wanted to growl. He could do better, could give you the pleasure and satisfaction that those males had failed to provide. The thought was intoxicating, and he couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to be with you, to make you feel the way you deserved. Had they truly not taken the time to worship you? To explore your body, pray to it like it was sacred?

His mind painted a picture of you together, your bodies entwined, a room filled with the smell of sex. He saw himself looking into your eyes, his focus on your pleasure. You moaning underneath him, wrapping your arms around his neck and whispering his name. Cassian. Cassian. The image was intoxicating— he felt a stirring in his cock, a longing that settled heavy in his stomach.

But it was short lived. Quickly, a sense of guilt washed through him, flooding through his veins. Here you were, talking about your life and feelings, and he was imagining you naked, underneath him, your face contorted in pleasure. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be thinking of this. He should be listening to you, his best friend, and giving you advice. He aggressively shoved his thoughts away, putting a lock on the visions of you that were manifesting in his mind. With a deep breath, he told his deteriorating self-discipline that he could think of those beautiful images later, when it was just him and his hand in the solace of his room.

He found himself grateful that you were walking ahead of him, that the night air provided a distraction, a physical discomfort that could dampen his desires. It was cold out now, the breeze seemingly more nippy. It sobered him up, ridding the effects of the alcohol in his veins and his drunken feelings of lust.

It was cold out. His eyes snapped up to you walking ahead of him, rubbing your arms absentmindedly. You were cold. How had he not realized?

Because you’re a horny prick who can’t seem to remember your place in her life. His mind screamed at him. He knew it was right. 

"I just want to find someone who can connect with me on a deeper level. Someone who sees me.” You said with a defeated sigh. You stopped for a minute, looking back as Cassian caught up to you, the war general having fallen behind, distracted by his own thoughts. 

Finally reaching you, he gave you a look that you’d never seen before, and you slightly frowned from being unable to read him. But soon, his face softened, and he put his hand on your arm. The touch was tender, despite his large, rough hands, and it sent a warmth throughout your body that combated the cool air. 

"Y'know, you could get anyone you wanted." 

His voice, sincere and quiet, took the breath out of your lungs. 

Well, not anyone. The thought flitted through your mind. You ignored it. 

He smiled at you, a warmth in his gaze that set your heart on fire. “Lets get you home.”

Cassian draped his arm around you, his hand rubbing your biceps as you instinctively leaned into the comforting gesture. When his wings flared out and curled around you both, you felt the flutter in your chest again, a faint warm glow. This time, you let it sit.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Cassian's ability to fly gradually returned with the waning effects of the alcohol, and the rest of the way home had been filled with comfortable silence. You felt the familiar comfort of home envelop you the minute you stepped foot inside, and your room called to you, to your aching body and pounding headache. 

As soon as you entered, you didn't waste a moment – walking straight to your bed and simply falling face flat, a groan escaping from your lips. You could feel the throbbing in your head, every movement causing a reaction in both your scalp and deep in your stomach, where a growing sense of nausea was brewing. 

"You're gonna be in pain in the morning." Cassian remarked with a chuckle, watching your less-than-graceful landing.

You groaned again, the sound muffled by your sheets. A moment passed, and you heard the sound of Cassian removing his shoes, soon followed by a dip in the bed as he settled in and made himself comfortable. He sighed.

"Gods. Your bed is so damn comfortable."

You lifted your head to look at him, his head leaning on your headboard as he breathed softly. He looked so peaceful, no tension in his face or his body, his eyes closed with the ghost of a content smile on his lips. 

“You can sleep here tonight,” You said, “If you’d like.” 

The offer felt charged with something you couldn’t quite name, and you felt vulnerable for proposing the idea. Sure, you and Cassian had slept in the same bed together before, but never when you were attracted to him, turned on by his lips touching your ear. Maybe it was a bad idea. You should send him on his way before he gets too comfortable... right?

Cassian's eyes opened, finding your own. "Really?"

Good ideas be damned.

You nodded. "Just don't hog the bed."

You watched as he smiled and settled himself in further, still clad in his button up and trousers. The pounding in your head had slowly calmed to a dull ache, a momentary relief that you knew was bound to end soon. Taking advantage of it, you made a move to push yourself up and get ready for bed, bracing yourself on your forearms. A wave of nausea ran through you again, and your mind began to conjure up images of every drink you had tonight. You groaned.

“Y/n?” 

You let out a deep breath. “Yes?” 

Cassian could hear the discomfort in your voice, and he sat up straighter, looking at where you lay at the edge of your bed, your head hanging, slightly tilted downwards towards your bed as your forehead resting on your hands. 

“Whats going on?” He said, moving closer to you on the bed. You could feel his body next to your head, his thighs rubbing against your forearms.

“Lots of drinks.” You responded, squeezing your eyes shut. “Too many.”

Cass gave a small chuckle, his hand moving to rest on your head. You felt him run his hand through your hair, felt it settle near your neck, right by your shoulders. He moved it in circular motions. 

“Let me help you.” His voice was calm and gentle. For a second, you wondered how he was perfectly fine, but then you remembered how well he could hold his alcohol and how quickly he could sober up, if needed. You felt grateful for the latter as you nodded against your hands. 

Cassian stood up and slowly wrapped his arm around your back, settling his hand on your shoulder. Then, with the other, he gently took a hold of your forearm, guiding you up from your hunched position. 

You didn’t think much as you let Cass guide you, you could feel him next to you, his arms stabilizing you as he helped you maneuver over to the other side of your bed. The whole world felt like it was moving too fast, as if you were the only thing in slow motion. You simultaneously cursed yourself for tonight while wishing you could teleport to four hours ago when you were wasted and the world was perfect.

“You think you can get out of your dress?” He asked you, as he helped you sit down on your bed.

You nodded, looking up at him with a faint smile. “Yeah. Can you…” 

Cassian turned to the armoire your outstretched finger pointed to. He nodded. You closed your eyes for a minute, taking another deep breath as you heard him open a drawer and then close it.

“Here.” His voice was still as smooth as before, calm and gentle. It sent a shiver through your body, and you found your heartbeat quickening. Not now, you scolded yourself, you’re on the verge of vomiting. You needed to get a grip. You grabbed the soft nightgown from his hand and Cassian quickly turned around, giving you some privacy. 

Your dress was easy to peel off, the small straps sliding off your shoulders with no resistance. You felt the cool air bite at your exposed chest, and quickly pulled the night stress over your head. Then, you carefully stood up, allowing your dress to slide down your legs, and your nightgown to fall properly on your body. 

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you looked at Cassian, his back facing to you, his beautiful wings flared out comfortably. A part of you felt so vulnerable with him now, with the way he was touching you, how you had looked at him tonight. Cassian always helped you when you were drunk, it was nothing new, but the feeling lingered nonetheless. You cleared your throat.

“Thank you,” You said, looking at Cass as he turned back around. He couldn’t help as his eyes surveyed your body, and he gave you a small grin. 

“Oh, how cute.” 

You gave him a small glare, smacking his chest with your hand. And then you slowly crawled into your bed, taking note of how Cassian’s hand hovered over your back until you were settled. He grabbed your covers for you, placing them on you.

“I feel like I’m taking care of a child.” He joked, and you let out a little scoff. He only laughed at your response. 

“Just take off your clothes and come sleep before I kick you out.” 

You could see the restraint in his face as he stifled his laughter. You could already hear it, a joke about you wanting him naked, a tease about taking him to dinner first. But, instead, Cassian let out a quiet laugh. “Okay.” 

You burrowed yourself into your bed, closing your eyes and embracing the warmth of the covers, how nice the soft mattress felt on your aching body. Behind you, you heard the sound of pants and a belt falling to the ground, and within seconds, there was a dip in the bed. Cassian’s smell filled your nose and you welcomed it in, a scent that reminded you of peaceful nights and crackling fires. 

“Cass?” You said, slowly turning yourself over to face him. You felt him shift, getting comfortable into the bed, and then he was turning to face you as well. 

“Yeah?” He whispered, his voice low.

“Thank you.”

You closed your eyes, your nose still filled with the smell of your best friend, his heat radiating onto your skin. You were out within seconds.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The air was charged with the metallic tang of sweat and the rhythmic sounds of swords clashing. It was a sight to behold, truly. Azriel and Cassian were both incredibly skilled in combat and their sparring matches were always your favorite to watch. Not only was it beautiful to see, with their fluid motions and strong forms, but it helped you pick up on things you wanted to practice yourself— and any weaknesses you could exploit when you practiced with them. Today, you observed Cassian with a focused intensity as he moved gracefully through his training routine, each motion deliberate and powerful. You found yourself unable to look away, suddenly feeling drymouthed and distracted, swallowing hard. You brought your hand to your mouth, your thumb wiping at your lip as you watched. 

Were you attracted to Cassian? 

No. The sudden heat you were feeling was due to the heavy sun above you, the strong rays hitting you and your slight dehydration. It had nothing to do with the sweaty, built, and beautiful body of your best friend. It definitely wasn’t the way his muscles rippled as he moved, or the way his sweat lined his abs…

"Enjoying the show, babe?"

You let out a small gasp in surprise, turning your head to the side as Mor approached you, a grin on her red-painted lips.

“You scared the fuck out of me.” You said, bringing your hand to your chest in an attempt to calm the quickened beating of your heart.

“I’ve never been able to catch you so off guard,” She mused. “Guess they’re real entertaining today, huh?”

You pursed your lips and looked back over to the two males sparring. They took a step back from one another, taking a momentary break to catch their breaths. Cassian looked over at you, his half-bun had unraveled during the intense training session, with strands of his tousled hair clinging to his forehead, glistening with sweat.

As he caught your gaze, Cassian grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. With a wave of his hand, he gestured toward Azriel, attempting to convey his strategy for the upcoming sparring match. You felt a smile pull at your cheeks as Cassian switched between hovering his hands around his neck to mimic an action of strangulation, and gesturing towards Azriel. Az stood unamused, wiping his forehead with his wrist before taking a large sip of water.

Beside you, Mor observed the scene with a raised eyebrow, a hint of suspicion crossing her features. Her gaze flickered between you and Cassian, and a look of realization slowly went through her face. She turned towards you with a slight gasp, smacking your bicep playfully.

"Y/n! Did you two…?"

You turned your head fast to look at her at a speed so fast that you swore you gave yourself whiplash. You looked at her with narrow eyes. “Did we what?”

Mor's grin widened as she leaned in conspiratorially. "Did you and Cassian have a little training of your own, off the sparring mat?" She teased with a wink.

You scoffed, waving her off with a gesture of your hand. You could feel a blush on your cheeks and you prayed that Mor didn’t notice— or if she did, that she attributed it to the sweltering heat.

"No, Mor! We didn't.” You responded, then you made a face of disgust. “We’re talking about Cassian. I could never.”

Mor raised an eyebrow playfully. "Are you sure about that? Because, darling, you've been staring at him like he's a piece of prime meat, and you're a starved vegetarian about to crumble."

Your cheeks burned brighter.

“Such a beautiful image, Mor, thank you for that,” You murmured, rolling your eyes before looking at her. “But that is not what I was doing. I was just… watching his technique. That's all."

Mor's laughter rang through the air as she nudged you. "Sureeee. Whatever you say. But you might want to consider admitting it to yourself before the starved vegetarian inside you takes over completely."

Flustered and unsure of how to respond, you excused yourself with a mumbled, "I don't know what you're talking about," before hastily leaving the training arena, leaving Mor's laughter echoing behind you as she followed.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You and Cass hadn’t had time together within the past week and a half. You were busy running off with Mor and Feyre, and when you weren’t with them, Amren took your attention. Cassian himself had been busy, too, but he couldn’t focus recently, not as well as usual. The last time he’d been able to properly see you, as you observed him and Azriel training, you left before he had a chance to talk to you. You hadn’t felt Cassian's eyes follow you as you left, didn’t notice the way he traced your figure. His gaze had stayed trained on you until you were out of his line of sight, and only then had he felt the presence of Az behind him. But he was too slow, and the Shadowsinger quickly disarmed him, flipping him onto his back with a loud thud.

Cassian had let out a groan followed by a string of obscenities aimed at his brother, who quickly made a comment about him being too distracted. Azriel was right. He was too distracted. His mind was completely and utterly obsessed with you. 

In fact, Cassian felt like a mad man. There was a deep ache that had settled in his chest, one that weaved itself through his ribs. He’d never felt so starved, so hungry. But his delusions, the dreams he’d been having, the fantasies that manifested in his brain, they weren’t sweet enough to satiate his hunger anymore. What he wanted was you. And he couldn’t stop picturing it, couldn't stop indulging in his thoughts. Not since that night at Rita’s. 

He’d fallen asleep with you after he’d helped you get into bed, closed his eyes after you thanked him. It was the best sleep he’d gotten in months, made even better when he woke up perfectly rested, rolling over in your comfortable bed to see you. He won’t admit how long he was staring at you, at your sleeping form, your hair fanned out across your pillow. Even with your makeup slightly smeared– a fact that made him feel guilty that he had forgotten to help you wash it off– you were breathtaking. He wondered why he never really noticed it this much before.

Cassian tried his best tonight, laying in his bed after the long day. Restless, he tossed and turned. At one point he considered getting ready and flying somewhere, going to train and practice, or finding some beautiful female to replace the thoughts he had of you. Both options sounded nauseating. So, instead, he pulled himself out of bed and slowly walked around, letting out a yawn and rubbing at his eyes. The hallways were quiet, illuminated by the moon in the night sky. 

When he rounded the corner to the kitchen, he stopped in his tracks, his heart quickly jumping. He blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the low lighting, and then readily took in the sight in front of him.

There you were, a vision of beauty, leaning gracefully into the fridge. The top part of your body concealed by the door, leaving Cassian with a tantalizing view of your legs. The silk set you wore clung to you in all the right places, the fabric catching the subtle glow of flickering faelight, accentuating the curves that commanded his attention.

Fuck. He couldn’t tell if this was a dream or a nightmare for him in his current state. 

As he stood there, silently observing, you straightened up. Your hands, adorned with an elegant grace, held onto something within the fridge as you turned to close it. You turned your head slightly and your eyes met his. A wave of warmth washed over Cassian. 

"Cass?" Your voice was quiet, the surprise in your eyes quickly replaced by recognition. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. You stood tall, a small plate of mixed berries in your hand. He wasn’t surprised, though, you always had such strange midnight cravings. Still slack-jawed and captivated, Cassian tried to find the words to break the silence. He watched as your face softened and your brows pulled together. “Cant sleep?” You asked.

He blinked. And then shook his head. “Nope.” He finally replied.

You smiled, a warm and inviting expression that made Cassian's heart skip a beat, and made a motion with your head to call him closer to you. You pulled yourself onto the counter, swinging your feet as they hung. Cassian settled next to you, leaning against the counter. The cold slight touch of the cold surface on his bare back sent a chill through his body. His wings nestled comfortably behind him.

Cassian watched you as you hummed quietly, bringing the berries to your mouth. He watched the way your lips wrapped around them, the way your throat moved as you swallowed. His thoughts went straight to his cock, feeling a stirring that had him fighting to maintain his composure.

Get it together. His mind echoed. He sorted through his thoughts, then he looked up at you.  “I’ve missed you this week.” He confessed.

You paused, bringing a strawberry away from your lips. Turning to look at him, you gave him a dimpled smile. "Well, you didn’t have to wait until the dead of the night to find me,” You responded. “I’ve missed you, too.”

Cassian mirrored your smile and then let out a deep breath. Despite fighting back his intrusive thoughts about you not even minutes ago, his heart was steady and calm. He could feel a sense of relief wash through his body as he stood next to you, watching you eat. The silence was comfortable— your presence was comfortable. Something warm, something familiar, something that felt like home. 

“Want one?” You offered, holding your plate towards him. He glanced at you, then at the plate, and then at you again. His eyebrow raised.

“C’monnnn,” You said, your voice light and amused, “Every healthy male needs to eat his fruits and vegetables.”

Cassian let out a chuckle. “At three in the morning?”

You shrugged casually. “I don’t think the time matters.” You popped a blueberry in your mouth, looking at him. Then you picked one up from the plate, reaching your hand out to his face, the fruit hovering in front of his lips. “They’re nice and fresh and cold.”

He couldn’t say no to you. Not when you were looking at him like that. 

With a reluctant smile, Cassian moved to take it from your outstretched hand, but you intervened, a softness in your eyes. "Allow me," you said. He responded with a subtle nod. Holding the berry delicately between your fingers, you brought it to his mouth. For a second, your finger brushed against his lips, a small fleeting touch, the ghost of a sensation. An unexpected surge of electricity coursed through him, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake as it moved throughout his body. 

His gaze locked onto yours, your attentive eyes and your mouth slightly parted. Like many other things, you’d done this before, had given Cassian food straight to his mouth. But in the stillness of the night, with the glow on your soft skin and your silk set, Cass struggled to breathe. 

A slight grin played on your lips as Cassian, still entranced, tasted the berry you had fed him. He chewed slowly, deliberately, and then swallowed. "See?" you said in a soft, teasing tone, “And it probably tasted better with me feeding you it like some God. You’re welcome.”

Cassian, still under the spell of your touch, let out a small breath. "You're always right, aren't you?"

You met his gaze, a quiet confidence in your eyes. "It's part of my charm," you replied, the words carrying a hint of playfulness. He watched as you returned your attention to your plate, finishing the last of the berries that adorned it. You looked over at him. "It's getting late," you said, dropping down from the counter. "I should probably get some sleep."

As you stood up and stretched, Cassian's eyes followed the movement, taking in the curve of your ass as you arched your back. Your silk set rode up slightly, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of your stomach. He felt a surge of desire that made him both embarrassed and excited, like he was a 16 year old again, ready to fuck anything near him. Cassian allowed his eyes to wander back up, taking in the sight of your chest, the way the silk set clung to your breasts, the subtle rise and fall of your breaths. He felt his mouth water.

You rolled your shoulders, turning to look at him with a subtle furrow in your brow.  

“You okay?”

Cassian cleared his throat, shaking off his thoughts. If he didn’t know any better, he would think that there was a blush rising to his cheeks, a heat he was suddenly aware of on his face. 

“Yeah,” He responded, his voice huskier than intended, “Just tired.”

You shot Cassian a mildly unconvinced look with a subtle raise of your eyebrows, but gave him a half-smile, anyways. “Get some rest, Cass,” You said softly, “See you tomorrow.”

Cassian stayed still, eerily still, as he watched you walk away, watched your legs move and the way the fabric of your clothes rippled as you walked. When you were out of eyesight, he let out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Then he titled his head and let out a groan at the ceiling. He took a minute to compose himself, to attempt to regulate the blood in his body– blood that was moving straight to the heat collecting like a pool in his chest. Rubbing his hands along his face, Cassian slowly headed for his room. The quiet of the night that once soothed him now felt like a void, one that yearned for your voice again, for you. 

By the time he made it to his room, Cassian’s mind was filled with images of you– of the silk material sliding across your skin, of the way your lips wrapped around the berries, of him bending you over the counter. Gods. Feeling the strain of his desire, Cassian reached down and started to stroke himself through his pants, the loose and thin material of his sweatpants doing little to buffer the friction from his palms. He felt a deep groan leave his mouth at the image of you in front of him, kneeling with your eyes wide and hungry, your lips parted, ready for him. 

He slid his hand into the waistband of his sweatpants, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of his cock. He pulled his pants and briefs down his legs, letting his throbbing length fall against his stomach as wrapped his hands around himself. Cassian worked himself in smooth strokes, swallowing every time his thumb grazed the head of his cock. He let his mouth fall open as he imagined you, imagined your body moving beneath him, your eyes locked on him as he took you. 

Closing his eyes, Cassian thought of the sound of your moans, fantasizing about how your breath would quicken, how your body would tremble with pleasure as he satisfied your desires. His hand moved faster, his grip tightening as the images in his mind grew more detailed— every sound you’ve emitted to him before, every laugh, every grunt as you trained, every soft sigh, all began to morph together into one beautiful melody. You’re moaning underneath him, desperate, all-consuming, so hungry for him that you’re forced to stifle your whimpers with the back of your hand.

Cassian felt the tension coiling in his body, the tightness in his balls, and the warmth spreading through his body. He imagined you writhing underneath him, your hips chasing his every thrust, your body arching beneath him, eyes filled with pleasure as he filled you with his seed. His orgasm hits him fast, his body trembling with the force of his release as he painted his stomach with the evidence of his desire.

Even after he’d cleaned himself off, after he’d submerged himself in a cold bath, Cassian’s mind still lingered on you, on your silk set, on your lips— on your laugh. And as he tossed and turned in bed once more, Cass realized he was completely fucked. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

"What's got you so flustered?" Mor asked, a playful smirk dancing on her lips.

Mor knew exactly why you were so flustered. Her, Amren, and Feyre had guessed it from the beginning— the subtle touching and lingering gazes. You liked Cassian, like-liked Cassian. And until now, you had refused to admit it. 

As you remembered the moment with Cassian a mere three nights ago, a blush crept onto your cheeks. You ran your hands down your face and let out a groan. Feyre and Mor exchanged amused glances. 

“He walked in shirtless!” You exclaimed, your voice still slightly covered by your hands running down your face. “Gods, I didn’t know what to do. I just kept shoving berries in my mouth. And then I kept trying to find a reason to touch him but I couldn’t.”

Feyre, who sat next to you with her legs to the side, comfortably nestled into the crook of the couch, leaned forward, looking at you with expectant eyes. “So what did you do?” She asked.

You shifted in your seat, avoiding eye contact by focusing on a loose thread on the couch. "I gave him a berry." Your voice was quiet. You spared Feyre a glance under your brow. When you saw her face crinkle in amusement, you quickly looked away, nervously twirling the thread between your fingers. It snapped quickly. 

From in front of you, Mor stared, her brows furrowed and mouth slightly parted. “You gave him… a berry?” She leaned back, a look of intrigue on her face.

You nodded slowly, aware of how lame it sounded. “Yes. I fed him a berry.” You said, looking up at her.

"And?" Feyre asked. 

You pursed your lips and glanced at her, and then bounced your vision around the room. There was a deep sense of embarrassment that bubbled in your stomach, a feeling that made you want to hide away. You were flustered, more than you had ever been, and it was due to your best friend shirtless in the kitchen. You felt like a schoolgirl with a crush— and it was humiliating. But looking at both of your friends, so eagerly sitting, you let out a breath and word-vomited them the truth. 

“And I’ve never been so aroused by someone's lips and the faint feeling of stubble! Gods, what do I do?” You lifted your hands up in exasperation, finding yourself sinking further into the couch. Crossing your arms, you huffed in frustration. Your cheeks flushed, and you could feel the heat radiating from them.

“I know what to do.”  Mor said, matter-of-factly. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You do?" Your hands dropped to your lap and you leaned forward.

"Yes. You need to get laid." Mor's tone was casual.

Your eyes widened. "W-What?" Your jaw dropped.

Mor only nodded her head affirmatively, jutting her chin out towards Feyre next to you. “She agrees.”

 You shot a look to Feyre, who stared at you with wide eyes. She gave you a sheepish smile. “I mean…” She trailed off, looking towards Mor for help. You followed her gaze and turned your head to the blonde once more. 

"We’re going to Ritas," Mor declared. She stood up, a confident sway to her hips as she moved towards the door.

"But we went last week," You protested. Mor stopped in her place and turned around to look at you with feigned innocence. 

"Oh, I’m sorry,” She said, bringing her delicate hand to her chest, “I didn’t realize it was illegal to go out two weekends in a row." 

You tilted your head and threw her an unamused look, but Mor only grinned at you. When you let out a defeated sigh and shook your head, she knew she had won and looked towards Feyre.

“Amren will come, too. It’ll be a girls night. Right, Fey?” 

Feyre smiled and turned to look at you, meeting your gaze. “Right.” She affirmed. She leaned forward, placing a soft hand on your bicep. “It’ll be fun.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

When the day began winding down, Mor returned from her apartment, arms heavy with dresses. She strolled into your room, Amren in tow, with the same grin from earlier. Looking towards where you and Feyre sat on your couch, she let out an excited squeal. “Tonight is going to be great.”

You glanced at Amren, who merely gave you a small quirk of her lips before planting herself down on the seat opposite of you, watching as Mor dumped her pile of clothes on your bed. 

You casted a glance at the pile of dresses, each with their own gorgeous vibrant color and delicate fabrics. You looked over at Mor. “Couldn’t decide on what to wear?” You mused. You pulled yourself up and walked towards her, examining the dresses on your bed. You brought the fabric of one between your fingers, feeling the delicate silk. 

Mor let out a laugh, bringing her hand to your arm. She looked at you with an amused glance. “Oh babe, these aren’t for me.” 

You frowned at her, and then your face fell. “Oh, these are for me?”

She nodded excitedly. Looking behind you towards Amren and Feyre. “Tell her how beautiful these would look on her.”

You didn’t look back, instead running your hands across the pile of elegant dresses. It wasn’t that you didn’t love them. Each dress was gorgeous in its own right, and if they belonged to Mor, you knew that they would look even better on– sexy, even. But you frowned slightly at the idea of dressing up to go to Rita’s with the goal of getting noticed. Unlike times before, it didn’t seem appealing. But perhaps you were overthinking. After all, the past two weeks had left you in your head too much. 

Feyre craned her head slightly, watching as you stared at the dresses. “They are beautiful, Y/n.” 

You let out a small sigh. This was good for you. Mor was right, you needed to get laid. You hadn’t fucked in a while. With all the tension and stress you’d been feeling, the worries about Koschei and impending doom, it made sense that your desires would manifest in someone familiar like Cassian, right? You nodded to yourself at the thought and then smiled. “Tell me which to try on first.”

You eyed the first dress Mor handed you. It was a stunning creation, soft and open, with a low neckline that hinted at just the right amount of allure. The fabric shimmered in the faelight of your room. As you slipped it on, the dress clung to your figure, accentuating curves you didn't always pay attention to. But it didn’t feel right. The straps felt a bit too loose, and as you turned to check yourself in the mirror, you realized the openness that had seemed so alluring was now making you uneasy.

Amren’s eyes narrowed. “No.” 

You nodded in agreement, tugging at the neckline. "Yeah, I think I’ll pass."

Feyre chimed in with a supportive smile. "Let's try the next one. Maybe it'll capture the right feeling. Yeah?” She turned her head to the side, motioning towards some dresses that Mor stood over as she sorted through them. Each dress was a different variation of red, Mor’s beautiful statement color and one that screamed confidence and grace. Surely Mor owned more than red, you thought. Why had she decided that you both were going to adorn her signature color tonight? You didn’t think too long about it, your gaze fixed on yourself in the mirror. 

After a few more desperate tries, and Amren’s decreasing confidence in Mor’s styling abilities, the blonde reached into the pile of dresses and pulled out a final dress that had you releasing a small gasp. The fabric was a deep, rich ruby red that seemed to absorb the light around it. As you slipped into the dress, the material clung to your curves, accentuating your silhouette. The neckline dipped low, revealing just enough to be tantalizing without feeling excessive, and you appreciated how naturally your breasts fell underneath it. The open back was a work of art, adorned with delicate jewels that cascaded down like a waterfall, drawing attention to the graceful curve of your spine.

You took a moment before looking at your friends. However, it was Amren specifically that you turned to for a decision, meeting her gaze. She let her eyes run down your figure before looking at you. The corners of her mouth tilted upwards as she gave you a small nod. “This is the one, girl.” 

Feyre and Mor watched as you turned to examine yourself in the mirror. The dress opened at the hips, showcasing your thighs and legs. The overall effect was breathtaking, a harmonious blend of elegance and desire. Mor's eyes lit up with satisfaction. "Gods, you look so sexy." 

You met Mor’s gaze in the mirror.  “No ones going to be able to take their eyes off you,” She gushed, “You’ll have your fair pick of females and males.” You let your mind drift off as Mor continued to babble, feeling Feyre’s hands running through your hair as she twirled the strands between her fingers, deciding how she wanted to help you style it. You took in your appearance in the mirror, eyes roaming over the dress once more, over how well it accentuated your body. It wasn’t until your gaze was drifting up that you noticed the figure in the doorway, your heart stopping. 

With a smirk playing on her lips, Amren’s voice rang out. "Hello, Cassian."

You, Feyre, and Mor turned in unison to the doorway, where Cassian stood  wide-eyed and still. He paled slightly and swallowed. You felt a flush creep up your neck, your hand flying to your collarbone in an anxious movement. Despite the confidence the perfect dress had given you moments ago, the presence of Cassian in the doorway had thrown you off balance. His eyes roamed your body, tracing where the dress fell at your feet up to its neckline, and all the skin it revealed. His wings twitched behind him, falling slightly. You rubbed at the spot that your hand lay at. 

Cassian, still caught off guard, stammered slightly. "I... uh, was just coming to see if you wanted to hang out." You felt your face soften, giving him a smile. Before you could respond, Mor waved him off dismissively.

 "Oh, sorry. She’s busy," she said with a tight smile. You casted a quick glance at her before giving your best friend an apologetic one. His gaze lingered on you, running up your figure once more– the heat in his gaze felt like it was lighting you on fire, and you bit the inside of your cheek. 

"I can see that.” He said. He cleared his throat. “So, uh, what's going on?" His eyes darted between the dresses thrown across your bed and to the girls surrounding you, each wearing beautiful, elegant gowns of their own. He didn’t miss the way Amren looked at him in amusement, or how her gaze trailed to you as she did so. 

Feyre looked between you two before answering. “It's girls night," she explained, “We’re going to Ritas.”

Mor, however, turned around with a large grin. "Y/n is getting laid tonight!" she announced with unabashed enthusiasm.

Cassian's eyes widened, and he blinked rapidly as if trying to process the information. A sizzling sense of jealousy formed in his chest and he breathed out from his nose. The room fell silent for a moment before he finally managed to sputter out “I thought you were over casual flings?” 

You bashfully stuttered, feeling a touch of awkwardness in the tense atmosphere, a small lump in the back of your throat, "Oh, well..." Your eyes searched for the right words, and you caught Mor's gaze, her curious stare making you feel a bit more exposed than you'd anticipated. "I don't know. We'll see." You shrugged slightly, giving him a close-mouthed smile. 

Feyre and Amren exchanged glances, their eyes bouncing between you and Cassian. You didn’t catch it. Mor wanted to laugh, but instead she pressed her lips together and circled you, taking in the image of you in the dress.  "I bet she'll have to fight off people tonight," she mused, casting a sly look in Cassian's direction. "Wouldn't you agree, Cassian?" Feyre’s head swung over to Mor and she gave her a tight look, her eyes widening slightly. Unaffected, the blonde looked back at her with an innocent face. What? She mouthed. 

Cass was staring at you, unmoving and chest rising rapidly. You took in his casual wear, how his hair hung loosely, some strands in front of his face. He was looking at you with an intensity in gaze that you’d never felt before, a heat that made you feel like you were on fire. You swallowed, and then bit your lip, watching as his eyes took in those movements too. Having not fully registered Mor's question, he stammered again, "I—uh, what?"

Mor's grin widened, and she feigned innocence. "Oh, nothing. I'm just saying that she looks so beautiful. Tell her how beautiful she looks."

Cassian casted a quick glance at Morrigan, but quickly his eyes settled back to the place they were at before– your face, your body, you. You blushed at Mor's pointed comment. His eyes ran down your figure once more, seeming to trace the lines of the dress. You continued to rub nervously at your collarbone, the heightened attention making you slightly self-conscious. 

Cassian, finally finding his words, cleared his throat. "You do look... incredible," he admitted, his eyes still fixed on you. You wondered if your friends were suddenly feeling smothered too, if something in the air was making it hard for them to breathe. Your heartbeat echoed in your ears. You resisted the urge to gulp down another nervous breath. Mor let out a small sound of agreement before she looked over at the illyrian male.

"Okay, thats enough gawking, Cassian. We all know Y/n is hot. Now leave us be. Go find Az or Rhys or something," she declared. Your eyes widened slightly, and Cassian shook his head, his mouth slightly parting. Caught between embarrassment and amusement, he took Mor's words in stride. “Right.” He responded with a smile.

He turned around to leave, but before fully retreating, he stole one last glance in your direction. You noticed the subtle, lingering look on his face—an admiring gaze, accompanied by a fleeting lick of his lips. There was a certain longing in his eyes that didn't go unnoticed. Then, you watched as a different expression overcame his features. He walked out before you had a chance to examine it further. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You let out a small laugh as Mor continued to compliment you, talking over her shoulder as you, Feyre, and Amren followed her, approaching the main foyer. Your laughter died as Mor stopped in her tracks and frowned slightly. 

"What are you guys doing?" She asked, a mix of surprise and annoyance in her voice. As you caught up to where she stood, you were greeted with the unexpected sight of Cassian, Azriel, and Rhysand standing in front of the door, seemingly waiting for you. Dressed in impeccably tailored suits, each of them exuded a distinctive charm. The realization hit you—the look on Cassian’s face as he departed from your room earlier, the sense of determination, the lingering cue of playfulness. He had gone and convinced them both to join. 

You couldn't help but appreciate the attention to detail in how they looked, and Cassian, in particular, stood out. His wings, a symbol of his power and grace that you adored, were confidently spread, and his slicked-back hair added a touch of elegance to his rugged charm. He not only looked good, he looked absolutely delicious. You didn’t attempt to hide the look on your face as you took him in. 

Finally ripping your eyes from your best friend, you looked behind him, to where Azriel sat, his face donning its usual cool expression, but you could sense it- the hint of annoyance that laid underneath it. Meanwhile, next to him, Rhysand sported a large, confident grin. A grin that Cassian mirrored, but with a touch less confidence, his eyes flickering between you and the others. Amren, observing the situation with her usual detached demeanor, glanced at Rhysand and deadpanned, "You're coming with us."

Rhysand's grin widened, and he nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely! Girls' night, right?" He threw his mate a wink. You heard her stifle some laughter. 

Cassian, scratching the back of his head, added with a sheepish smile, "Figured we'd join the fun. Tonight’s been a bit boring." He gestured around him. Then his gaze fell on you. For what felt like the millionth time tonight, his eyes raked over you and you blinked, catching his gaze when it fell on your face. “You don’t mind, do you?”

You didn’t mind.  Not one bit, you thought. If he kept looking at you like that, with those eyes and that heated gaze, you wouldn’t mind a thing he did. He could ask you for anything right now, and you’d say yes. Yes, yes, just keep staring at me like that. Like you see me, like you want me. 

Mor scoffed, "Yes, we do mind!" She turned to you, looking for support. "Tell them it's a girls night."

All eyes turned to you, and you felt a flutter of uncertainty. There was Cassian, his eyes locked onto yours, examining you, your every feature, your every move. The heat of his eyes had started to pooled down at your thighs. You clenched everything below your waist as you hesitated for a moment, still caught in the intensity of his gaze. Mor's impatience grew, and she raised an expectant eyebrow. "Well?"

You lingered on Cassian, and despite Mor's expectant face, you found yourself saying, "No, I don't mind."

Mor's expression shifted from annoyance to resignation, and she let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine."

Cassian's face brightened with a grin, "I promise, Mor, it'll be so fun." His attention turned towards you, walking to you with a soft, but charming grin. "Allow me." He extended his elbow, and without hesitation, you interlocked your hand with his. The touch was comforting and warm, and his scent enveloped you as he guided you towards the exit. You closed your eyes with a content sigh. 

The fragrance that clung to him was intoxicating. Maybe it was a bad idea to invite him tonight, to let him join you and the girls. The dress you were wearing gave you an inflated sense of confidence that you hadn’t felt for a while, and as you walked alongside Cassian, you wondered if it would truly be so bad to indulge in your thoughts of him. To think of his hands, the some ones with you right now, and how they would trace your body the way his eyes had this evening. You felt your arousal bubbling up at the thought of it. It was all in innocent fun, right? You could think of him, enjoy this touch, fantasize about him, as long as that's all it was— thoughts in your mind, away from reality, an idea that you never let come to fruition. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You had to admit, Mor was right. Rita’s was definitely the move tonight. Somehow it was even more lively than last week, bustling with people and energy. You weren’t as intoxicated as last time, not anywhere near it, but you felt drunk all the same. And you weren’t ashamed to admit, now, that your drunken haze was all caused by one thing: your extremely attractive best friend. 

You and Cass had lost the rest of your group a while back, pulled into a drink off with a beautiful fae couple. Cassian and you had won every single round, leaving you standing at the bar now, celebrating with another round of shots. 

Cassian was standing next to you as you both faced the bar, your arms touching,  practically on top of one another. Cass craned his head to look at the crowd behind you, his hand wrapping around your waist as people drunkenly stumbled past you, making their way to the bar. On usual nights, Cassian’s hand would have dropped by now, returned to their position at his side, but not tonight. Instead, he kept his hand across your waist, keeping a heavy hold on you. You could feel the heat from his palm through the thin fabric of your dress, and you felt it as it moved straight to your core. You instinctively rubbed your thighs together in an attempt to ignore it, suddenly feeling grateful for the multitude of smells in Rita’s that covered your arousal. You turned your head to the side to look at Cassian, noticing that his gaze was on you, but not on your face. Instead, it seemed as if he was looking to where his hand rested on your hip.

“What?” You asked, your brows furrowing, leaning closer to him. He tilted his head slightly, and then you felt his hand lift. You felt a small tinge of disappointment, but it quickly dissipated when you felt his light touch hovering over your back, tracing where the delicate jewels of your dress cascaded down your spine like a waterfall. Your body shuddered. You watched him as his gaze deepended, as he took his lip between his teeth. His hands traced the ornate jewelry, landing at the base of your spine, where the fabric of your dress gathered. 

“I like this,” Cassian said, his voice low. His eyes flickered to yours, “Beautiful.”

Your chest fluttered at his words— was he complimenting the dress, or you? You couldn’t ask even if you wanted to, the air sucked out of your lungs with every lingering touch of his.  Your mouth parted slightly as he stared at you, as you ran your eyes along his face. You felt the brush of his fingers on your spine now. He wasn’t tracing the jewelry anymore, no, he was touching you. 

“Here you go,” A sudden voice pulled you out of the moment. Both you and Cassian turned your heads to the bartender placing two small shot glasses in front of you. You had forgotten you’d ordered another round, forgotten why you were at the bar in the first place, with your best friends hands over you. “I apologize for the wait.” The bartender said. 

You spared him a quick glance, a small graceful smile on your lips, “No worries,” you said. But then you looked at him once more, recognizing the smile he wore, the sound of his voice. This was the bartender Cassian was talking about. And from the way he looked at you, how he pushed your glass to your hand, lightly grazed your fingers, you knew Cass was right about his interest in you. 

“Thanks,” Cassian said, his voice rough. He grabbed both of the glasses in his hand, dragging them closer to your chests, his eyes trained on the bartender, whose smile faltered as he looked at your best friend. Cassian’s hand, which had fallen from your back at the interruption, found your hips again. “That’ll be it.” You didn’t need to look at the bartender to know that he shrunk away, intimated. You didn’t need to look because all you wanted to stare at was Cassian. Cassian, Cassian, Cassian. Something about his grip on you, on the way he’d pushed the bartender away, the way he’d touched your spine, all of it had you pooling at your core. 

“Here,” Cass said, pushing your glass towards you with his knuckle. He grabbed his in his hand. The other hand was still at your hip, unmoving— except for the occasional circular rub of his thumb. You tenderly took the shot, angling your body to twist slightly so you could better face him. The hand on you moved appropriately, still staying placed on your hip as you maneuvered. 

“Cheers.” You said, looking at him. You licked your lips as you held the shot up. Cassian met yours, the two glasses making a clink as they touched. “Cheers.” He responded. 

Tilting your head back, you welcomed the shot openly, letting the liquid coat your throat, feeling the warmth as it moved down. When you were done, you were met with Cassian’s gaze once more, watching you. His gaze followed the column of your throat as you swallowed. His hand moved to your face, his thumb wiping away a stray drop of whiskey on your chin. The touch itself sent a frenzy through your body, and you let out a small, quiet gasp. 

“Y/n.” He murmured.

“Yes?”

Your voice was barely above a whisper, your body still. He was closer to you now than a few moments ago, and it took everything in your power not to pull him even closer, to brush against him. 

“You can’t look at me like that.” Cassian finally replied. 

Your heart leaped, and you took a sharp intake of breath. How were you looking at him, you wondered? Mor’s words echoed in your mind: like he was a piece of meat and you were a starving vegetarian? She was right. Oh, so right. You wanted to taste him, to devour him, to have him ravish you in return. You swallowed and then whispered in response. 

“Like what?”

Cassian said nothing. He scanned your face and then his hand was moving again, brushing a stray strand of your hair from your face. When the hair still fell out of place, he gingerly grabbed it and tucked it behind your ear. You felt his finger trace the shell of your ear, falling as it reached your lobe, now on your cheek. You closed your eyes, leaning into the touch, pressing closer to him. His grasp at your hip tightened, and you felt as it moved up, his hands now grabbing the skin at your waist. 

When you opened your eyes, your gaze met his instantly. He was breathing heavily, his eyes filled with desire. "We should probably find our friends," he whispered, his voice hoarse. You nodded absentmindedly, feeling your chest tighten. Cassian’s palm slightly lifted from your cheek, the ghost of his touch lightly moving. His thumb found your lips, tugging at them slightly, you let your mouth fall open with the touch. He nearly let out a moan at the sight. 

“Or,” You whispered back, “We could go home.”

He nodded, the pad of his thumb still rubbing at your lip. “We could.”

You lifted your hand to grab his wrist softly, pulling it lower, to your chest. You felt the heat of his palm as it landed on your chest. “Cassian.” His cock pressed angrily against his zipper at the sound of his name falling from your lips so sensually, so softly. His hand trailed higher, and then he was wrapping it around your neck, his thumb running along your throat.  You savored the touch and bit your lip, looking at him through your lashes. The look was all he needed, any self-constraint quickly disappearing. 

“Let's go home.” He said, his thumb running alongside your lips once more. Then, he was spinning you both around, interlacing your fingers as he pulled you through the crowd. 

As Cassian led you out, you looked back, squinting at the mass of people. Your gaze landed on Feyre, who was already looking at you. You watched as she glanced between you and Cassian, and then she gave you a small smile, her brows slightly furrowed. Be careful. Her voice echoed in your brain, soft and gentle. You weren't sure what she was referring to, if she was talking about your trip home or the way you were entangled with your best friend. Either way it didn’t matter. You weren’t being careful, not now. You didn’t want to be. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You weren’t quite sure what to do. You’d never been in this position with someone you loved so dearly— never been in the situation where you were about to fuck your best friend. 

The way home was a blur, the cold air as you both left Rita’s in a hurry, how Cass had wrapped his arms around you, how they had wandered and explored, but nowhere too vulnerable— not yet. You had made it a few minutes before you decided to winnow back, your ability fully functioning and, at the moment, incredibly convenient. Back at the house, you both had stared at each other, breathing hard, heavy-lidded eyes with lust. You could smell it on him. You didn’t doubt that you reeked of your own arousal. But Cass has stepped away from you, for a brief moment, biting his lips as his hands curled at his sides. Whatever you want, sweetheart, is what he had said. He wanted to give you an out, a chance to change your mind, to decide that this wasn’t a line you wanted to, or were ready to, cross. The realization hit you sweetly, and it only added to your arousal, the fact that he was so aware of you. 

You had looked at him, a small nod of your head towards the hallways, towards the corridors that led to your rooms. You hadn’t said anything, a heavy silence followed you, filled with longing and desperation, a hint of anxiety. You had waited, let Cassian take the next move. If he followed, you both knew what would happen. You had given him an out, too. 

You worried when some time had passed and you were still alone in your bedroom. You walked towards your mirror, taking in your appearance, the dress on you, the evident arousal on your face, in your stature. Then you heard him. His walking. You closed your eyes, hearing his heavy footsteps enter your room. You heard your door shut, and the footsteps grew louder until you felt him behind you, the warmth of his body enveloping you completely. You let out a small breath. 

“Cass,” You whispered, your eyes opening and meeting his in the mirror.

His hands found your hips, and he pulled you back into him. You felt his hard length against you, pressing against your exposed back, the heat of it alone causing you to let out a small, shaky breath. You leaned back into him, rubbing against him as his fingers tightened around you. Craning your head to the side, Cassian took advantage of your exposed neck, running his nose along it, inhaling your scent. He nudged the sweet spot behind your ears, your knees almost giving out as his lips trailed the shell of your ear, feeling his hot breath against your skin. 

His voice, rough as gravel, sent a wave through you of something you couldn’t name, but it was heavy, hot, and made you so incredibly horny. “Sweetheart, are you…” He trailed off. 

Sure? Sober? You had a feeling that sober is what his question seemed to probe at. You nodded, nodded frantically. Every shot you had taken tonight had no effect on your body, not anymore. You’d felt the last lingering effects of your final shot as you both came home, feeling as it slipped out of your system. And if he was asking if you were sure, that answer was yes, too. You were boldly, acutely, and fully aware of the moment, of each sensation in your body— fully aware of the ache in your legs, of how good Cassian smelled. “Yes, yes.” You whispered.

“Thank god,” He groaned– a guttural, animalistic sound. 

Before you could blink, Cassian was spinning you around. You let out a gasp, your view quickly taken up by the image of his face hovering over yours. He held your face in both of his hands, his thumbs swiping across your cheeks. His eyes scanned you in desperation, as if he was searching for something within the details of your features. Whatever he was looking for he seemed to find as he brought his lips to yours, giving in entirely with a soft moan of relief. His arms moved to wrap around your waist, and you moaned into him, flinging your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. He kissed you harder. 

“You sure?” Cassian whispered, floating the question again. He slid his warm palm up and over your hips, to your waist, your ribs, and back down again. You let out a sigh at his touch, running your palms up to pull the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Yes,” You said as he feathered kisses along your neck. “Are you?” 

You felt Cassian nod against you, a small breathless laugh left his lips as he came up for another kiss. “Fuck yes. I’ve been dreaming about this.” And then he placed another kiss on your lips, deep and sensual. Hunger radiated off him like a starved man. His words turned you to jelly and you swore you could feel your wetness running down your thighs. 

“This dress,” he breathed against your lips, “I wanted to rip it off you the minute I saw it.”

Before you can react, he reached out and gripped the fabric of your dress, yanking it downward with a force that left your heart racing. You gasped as the material was torn from your body, leaving you standing before him in nothing but your underwear. You watched in awe as he threw the torn fabric aside, a small sound emitting as the jewels made contact with the hard floor. The cold air immediately took the place of the warmth of your clothing, making you shiver with pleasure.

“That was Mor’s!” You managed to breathe out, looking at the discarded pile of fabric. Your words died in your throat the minute you caught Cassian’s gaze again. There was a predatory look in his eyes as he took you in, and you remembered now that you were completely naked now, save for a lacy pair of panties. Your nipples perked, hard and ready, in the cold air. Cassian, his gaze unmoving, simply grumbled back, “I’ll buy her a new one.” 

Cassian's eyes roamed over your naked body, his gaze heated as he took in the sight of you, completely at his mercy. His hands reached out, his fingers tracing a path down your arms, making you shake with anticipation. His hands moved to your hips, gripping you firmly as he pulled you closer. "You have no idea how beautiful you are," He said, "How much I've wanted this." You felt his erection, hard and ready, pressing against your stomach.

His lips found yours, his tongue plunging deep into your mouth as he kissed you with all the passion he'd been holding back. You felt the desire radiating from him, making you feel wanted and desired in a way that nothing else ever had. As he broke the kiss, his eyes locked on yours, filled with pure, unfiltered lust. "I'm going to make you come," he growled, his voice low and rough. "And when I do, you'll never forget the way I made you feel."

With that, he plunged his tongue back into your mouth, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer as you stand there, naked and vulnerable, your cunt throbbing with every word, every touch. Your hands gripped his hair, your fingers tangling in the strands as you pulled him closer, your bodies pressed together in a frenzy of passion.

Cassian broke away from you for a moment, his breath hot and heavy against your lips. "Jump," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. Without hesitation, you lifted yourself into his arms as he pulled you into him effortlessly. He wrapped himself around you, his hands gripping at your ass, fingers digging into your skin. You felt his erection pressing against you, underneath you, with desperate need.

He took a few steps before he carefully dropped you onto your bed with a bounce. You fell onto your back, your eyes wide with desire as you looked up at him. He took you in with his eyes, every detail of your body etched in his mind, hungrily saving the image of you for later.

Cassian's movements were hurried and frenzied as he removed his own shirt, discarding it carelessly on the floor near your--Mor's-- shredded dress. As he moved, you sat up from your supine position, your legs naturally falling to either side, finding yourself yourself in a kneeling position. You looked up at Cass. The sight of you like this, vulnerable and expectant, only intensified the hunger in his eyes, and he groaned.

You reached out to him and ran your fingertips along the waistband of his black pants, watching as his stomach muscles clenched in response to your touch. Cassian caught your wrists in his hands, looking down at you hungrily, he shook his hand. “Not yet, sweetheart. Let me savor this.”

You let out a small whimper, the sound shooting straight to his dick, causing the hardening length to throb in anticipation. But when he released your hands, you kept them at his waistband, bringing your hand to palm him through the fabric of his pants. 

“Please,” You whimpered, “I want to.”

And what kind of man would Cassian be to deny you? To say no to you as you looked up at him with those glossy eyes, your lips running along your lips? He moaned, feeling as if he could cum at the sight of you alone. This, you, were better than any of his fantasies— and he had come up with a lot within the past two weeks.  

You stared at him, at the way his muscles ripped under this golden skin, at the black tattoos curling around him, at the way his wings flared out openly, dominantly. You ached to be closer, to be able to touch the sensitive membrane. You licked your lips, taking in the curl of his biceps, the sharp dips of his hips, Gods, he was beautiful. He brought his right hand to your face, holding it tenderly before moving his hand to grab your hair at the back of your head. You took that as your invitation, leaning forward to undo his pants. With his buttons undone, you pulled the fabric down, Cassian’s hands aiding you to slide his underwear off with it. 

You let out a gasp at his length, at the girth, the veins pulsing on the underside of his cock. Red and hungry at the tip, leaking. You were watering at the sight. A deep sense of jealousy pooled into your stomach, images of every female he’d been with before, every female who had the pleasure of experiencing this before you. Mine. You thought. Mine. Pushing yourself closer to him, you kissed a line down his stomach.

You felt his muscles tense beneath your lips as you wrapped your fingers around him. He hissed as you rubbed your hands up his considerable length, the sound repeating when you spit on the head, a trail of saliva connecting your lips to his shaft.  You dragged the flat of your tongue upward, against the underside of his cock. Cassian’s reaction was instant, bucking into your grip with a breathless, raspy, moan that sent a wave of arousal down your body. You allowed your hand to follow the trail, spreading your saliva. Your mouth sunk down on him.  As you hollowed your cheeks, Cassian pushed himself harder, letting out a sinful groan as you welcomed him, taking him deeper in your throat.

“Gods,” Cassian tightened his jaw as he watched his cock disappear between your swollen lips with every bob of your head. “That pretty little mouth of yours.”

You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, Cassian’s head falling backward as he moaned, his grip in your hair getting tighter. You moaned in response, the sound vibrating through him. You shifted on your thighs, rubbing them together in an attempt to relieve some of your own arousal.  With a wet pop, you released him from your mouth, looking directly up at him as he stared at you with naked lust. You greedily swallowed the taste of him that coated your tongue.

“Enough. My turn.” He said, his voice halfway between growl and purr, a feral sound from deep in his chest that reverberated through your core. Cassian’s hand found your chest, after a squeeze of your breasts, his palm settled above your ribs. With a soft push, you were flat on your back again. He leaned over you and you seized the opportunity to rock against his thigh, your pussy throbbing at every touch of his, desperate for friction. But he moved quickly, leaving you grasping for touch. “Cassian.” You moaned. You pulled him back up again, desperate to have him close, slotting your lips against him. 

He accepted another hungry, ravenous kiss from you before he moved down, trailing hard kisses down your jaw and across your collarbone. Your hands tugged at him,  roaming over the length of his shoulders and the plane of his back, you trailed your fingers along his wings, the sensitive and soft membrane. You felt him shudder at the touch, watched as those beautiful wings twitched. You needed more.

Cassian stopped, taking a moment to bite into the soft flesh at the base of your neck. You let out a moan, throwing your hands into his hair as he sucked on the tender skin, soothing the area with a swipe of his tongue. He removed his mouth, tilting his head to make slight eye contact with you, a cocky grin placed on his lips. 

“I’ll paint you in my marks, Y/n.”  He whispered, moving his head down to continue his trail of kisses, “Just to have evidence that I was lucky enough to be here.”

He brought one hand between your thighs, his large calloused fingers dancing over your sensitive flesh, his perfect mouth still exploring you, tasting your skin. Your moans tumbled from your mouth, outside of your control, flowing like a river. You tightened your grasp on his hair, your fingers raking his scalp, pelvis lifting into his touch. Your legs widened further to provide him better access, knees dropping to the side. 

“To feel this.” Cassian’s fingers pulled your underwear aside and ran themselves through the wetness at your core, through your sensitive folds. His finger delicately circled your clit, rubbing at it in a way that had you mewing at his touch.

You let out a gasp as one probed at your entrance, your warm core welcoming it greedily. You felt his finger curl, and then arched into him as he added another, working in and out of you. You could hear the squelch of your juices as he fingered you, could feel the way your essence dripped with each movement. 

A disappointed sigh left your lips when the warmth of his hand left you. But seconds later, as you looked down at him with your hands in his hair, he pulled himself up slightly– just enough to look at you. Just enough to make eye contact as he tilted his head and stuck his slick fingers into his mouth. He lapped at the wetness coating his fingers. 

“Fuck, you taste better than I imagined.” He said, moving down to drop to his knees at the edge of the bed, between your spread legs. You propped yourself up on your elbows to keep your gaze on him. He looked at you, heavy lidded, his mouth glistening with the remnants of your slick. “May I?”

Please, please. He didn’t need to ask, you thought. You wanted him everywhere, wanted him on you, in you, all over you. Whatever he wanted was what you wanted. You lazily nodded, your tongue darting out again to wet your lips. 

“Words, sweetheart,” Cassian murmured, placing hot and wet kissing along your thighs. His arms snaked under your thighs, hands reaching to grab your hips and pull you closer. He slowly peeled your drenched panties off your body. “I want to hear you.”

“Yes,” You finally managed to croak out. Your voice deep and needy. “Please, Cass.”

And then his tongue was on you, licking a stripe up your dripping sex. You let out a loud moan at the contact, at the feeling of his tongue. He flattened his tongue against your folds, dragging it slowly.  Your hands found his hair and gripped it roughly between your fingers, your body curling around him. Cassian’s tongue dipped into your hole, darting in, again and again.  Your legs trembled as stars began to cloud your vision. 

“Cassian,” You choked out, feeling the building pressure in your stomach. You tried bucking your hips, but Cassian kept your thighs still, steady in a position where you couldn’t escape his wicked mouth. His tongue alternated between teasing your clit and slipping into your entrance. Your spined bowed in pleasure, and you brought one hand to your breasts, rubbing them and pinching at your nipples as Cassian ravaged you.

“You’re delicious. So fucking delicious.” Cassian crooned as he pulled apart from your cunt. He took a minute to admire the sweet image of you dripping in front of him, and then he dove back in. He let out a moan, quiet but still audible, and you noticed his other hand had removed itself from your thigh, now hidden from your view. As you looked, you saw it visibly moving, frantically, desperately. Cassian was eating you out and rubbing his own cock at it, pleasuring himself as he lapped at you. You moaned at the idea alone. The noises you made were loud, loud enough that you knew your family would hear if they were home already. But you didn’t care, you had no shame. Let them hear.

Cassian was murmuring into your core; he repeated something, the words falling from him like a prayer from a dying man. You were barely able to hear his whispers over the sound of your own blood rushing through your ears. Cassian pulled back a little then, heedless of your firm hold on his hair, watching you with his jaw set, eyes dark and greedy.

“Oh, Y/n,” he said huskily. “I could feast on this beautiful pussy forever, you know that?”

As he withdrew his mouth, he replaced its presence with his fingers instead. His thumb resumed the stimulation on your clit while his fingers moved inside your. When he slid another finger into you, your hips jumped, moving to meet his fingers faster. He curled his fingers into you as you rutted down harder. He groaned as your walls clenched when he curled his fingers, hitting a spot that had you whining his name. Your face contorted in pleasure and you let your head fall back. Cassian’s hand gripped at your thigh, calling your attention back.

“Down here,” He hummed, “Keep those pretty eyes down here.”

You brought your head back up, supporting yourself with your elbows. Cassian’s eyes stayed on yours as he lowered himself to your sex again, nustling his nose against your clit before he licked a stripe up your cunt, bringing his mouth to suck on your clit. You felt his fingers enter you again– one, then two. They brushed against you as he lapped at your clit, drawing circles with his tongue. You could barely breathe, the air leaving your lungs as Cassian filled your body with sweet, suffocating ecstasy. Your right hand found itself in his hair again, grabbing, pulling. He let out a groan at the feeling, and continued to lap at you.

You felt it everywhere, felt him everywhere. Pleasure gushed through your body, every part of your body sensitive. You writhed under him, your vision of Cassian growing blurry as you felt your pleasure build, coiling deep in your belly, ready to explode. You’re weren't sure what was up or down, forgotten where you were completely. Nothing existed except you and Cassian and the way he fucked you with his fingers and his mouth, and Gods, the thought of your reality alone made you want to cum. You grinded against his mouth, feeling as he grabbed you, pulled you closer, harder, against him, completely smothering him. 

“Oh my Gods, yes, yes, yes.” The sounds you were emitting were music to his ears and Cassian continued. 

The mixture of your pleasure, of Cassian’s grunts, his smells, of the way his wings twitched with each of your moans, made it even sweeter when Cassian brought another finger to your entrance. That tight, hot, built-up coil in your stomach loosened and you shriled loudly, your back bowing off the bed beneath you. Your whole body quaked as your orgasm rippled through you.

Cassian was in heaven— he was sure of it. You were a vision, your cheeks flushed, your lips parted as you moaned out in pleasure, your hard grasp in his hair. He felt every sound from your lips, every whisper of his name falling straight to his aching cock. Cassian, fuck, Cassian. You chanted them like a prayer and he swallowed them all. You were something holy, something absolutely divine and he felt himself losing it. He wanted to worship you forever, to stay buried in your cunt and die a happy man. Every man before him hadn’t appreciated you enough. He wanted to make you his, his beautiful creature, his goddess. 

Cassian slowed his movements, but didn’t halter them completely as he let you work through the wave of your pleasure. Your hand had gone lax in his hair, and he took the opportunity to pepper kisses across your skin — across your legs, across your cunt, even the sweaty crook of your thigh, anywhere his lips could reach. The hand that once gripped your thighs so tightly softened. Cassian rubbed gentle circles around your skin. He waited, and only until your body stopped shaking and you let out a small content sigh between your ragged breaths did he remove his fingers from you. 

He gave your core a slight smack and you let out a gasp, the action sending a spark throughout your body, leaving you aching and throbbing more than you had been seconds before. Cassian gave you a smirk. 

“Holy fuck,” You breathed, looking at him with wide eyes. “Cassian…” You watched as he stood up, bringing his fingers to his mouth as he licked off your juices once more. Your gaze dropped to his chest, and then to his throbbing cock. He stroked it as he looked at you, and your core ached once more, clenching at the thought of him inside you. Cassian stared at you, lips parted, drinking the sight of you eagerly. You pushed yourself further up, scooting back enough to lie flat on the middle of your bed. 

“You are a vision. A godsdamn vision,” Cassian spoke, the words falling off his tongue in a breathless confession, “Thought about this for so long.” He walked over to you. 

You gulped at the admission, thinking back onto your own fantasies of him, of his hands, of his mouth. You blinked, watching as he braced his hands on the bed. “Yeah?” 

Cassian nodded, bringing his hand to rub alongside your legs, tracing the curves of your body. As he crawled onto the bed, he let his hands wander with every movement. “Yeah, sweetheart.” 

The nickname made your heart clench, and you felt your wetness building once again, your pussy still sensitive from your previous orgasm. “Tell me.” You whispered. He straightened himself, moving to hover over you. With one arm supporting his weight, Cassian rocked his hips against yours. He molded his other hand to your breasts, sucking in a deep, ragged breath. You arched into his touch, mewing for more. You felt your heart throb, a warmth enveloping your chest. You couldn’t breathe. All you wanted to feel was him, his hands, his skin, his touch. His touch cascaded down your body, grabbing at your thighs, pulling them closer to him. 

“Rubbed myself raw at the thought of you underneath me like this.” He placed a kiss to your chest, quickly turning it into a small love bite, sucking at the skin tenderly. He released your skin with a brush of his teeth, bringing his fingers to softly touch the bruised skin.  His fingers returned to your torso, teasing your nipples once more, bringing them between his fingers. He bent his head down and took one of your nipples into his mouth. You arched into him, letting out a sweet sound at the wet contact. Cass swirled his tongue around the hardened nub before gently tugging it with his teeth, causing you to let out a cry of pleasure that quickly turned into a whine when he lifted his head. He lightly blew on your nipple, eliciting a soft gasp of pleasure as your nipple peaked harder, responding to the contrast of his hot mouth and the cool air. He repeated the same motions with your other breast. 

You moaned as you felt him tease your entrance with the head of his cock, rubbing it against your clit and around your inner lips. You impatiently bucked your hips, trying to guide him where you wanted him, where you ached for him, but Cassian’s firm hand on your lower abdomen halted your movements.You looked up at him with frustration, frowning at the sly grin on his mouth. 

“Cass, please,” You pleaded with broken whimpers. Cassian said nothing, moving his head down to kiss alongside your neck, taking your earlobe between his teeth. He teased you more, and in a movement of exasperation, fueled by the swelling and throbbing of your heat, you pulled him towards you by his neck. You placed your forehead against his, looking at him through heavy eyes. “Cassian, please fuck me already.”

Cassian gave you a wolfish grin. “Since you asked so nicely,” he said, bringing you in for another kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the kiss wet with desire and something more you couldn't place. Taking a breath and pulling apart, Cassian moved his hand to grab his cock, stroking it once, twice, before lining it up with your entrance. 

You let out a deep moan as he pushed into you, feeling yourself stretching around him. Your previous climax had left you sensitive, so sensitive that the first rock of Cassian’s hips left you gasping for air. Cass let out a guttural groan, leaning his forehead against yours as he bottomed out. His hair clung to his forehead. You looked up at him, at his mouth open in pleasure, and ran your hands alongside his face. 

“Fuck,” His breath fanned your face. He looked at you with that deep intensity in his gaze that stirred your heart. The next thrust was just as slow, Cassian pushing in as deep as your body would allow. “You, You feel fucking incredible.”

You closed your eyes, the sensations overwhelming you. But soon, Cassian’s voice snapped again, and you felt one hand grab your face, his hand holding your jaw, his thumb rubbing at your lips. “Look at me, beautiful.” He said, letting his thumb dip into your mouth. 

You spread legs spread open to the sides as he began to vigorously slam into you with no restraint, never breaking the eye contact he'd so quickly grown to love. He drank it all in: the clapping noises of flesh and your sensual screams, the sensation of your wet heat wrapped around him, the sopping sounds of your love making, and the way your nails dug into his arms as he told you how good you felt. 

You rolled your hips, pushing against his merciless rhythm of thrusts. Cassian looked down at where your bodies met, at where his cock filled you,  entranced by the way your hips subconsciously tilted at the intrusion, at how your hole welcomed him. With a growl, he lifted your legs over his shoulders, positioning you perfectly for his rough, relentless thrusts. Your breath caught in your throat as your watched him fuck you, your heart pounding in her chest. “Cass, Cassian.”

“Keep saying my name, baby.” The pet name fell from his lips so effortlessly, caressing you like another wave of heat. “Tell me how good it feels.”

As he continued to move inside you, your thoughts jumbled into a mess of pure pleasure. You let out a string of incoherent words, your mind drunk on the feeling of him stretching you, hitting spots you’d never experienced before. “S’Good.” You whimpered. You wrapped your arms tighter across his shoulders, reaching to touch the delicate membrane of his wings. They twitched under your fingertips, and you felt Cassian let out a moan before the sound registered in your ear. He snaked a hand where your bodies met, finding your swollen, aching clit, and began to rub circles around it. You gasped. 

“I wish I could be here forever,” Cassian groaned, his lips hovering over your ears, “Stay buried inside of your cunt. Fuck you like this for the rest of my life.” You didn't know if Cassian was aware of what he was saying, aware of what it implied, but you didn't care. It all felt so good, and his words made every stroke even more pleasurable. You wanted this, you wanted this for the rest of your life– you’d never experienced something this great, never known this level of pleasure could exist. 

“Please, Cass. Please.” You didn't know what you were begging for, but Cassian hushed you, peckering kisses all over you, his head fell in the crook of your shoulder, moving to bring his teeth to the sensitive skin at your neck. You moaned. “Yes, yes. Mark me. I’m yours.”

Your words seemed to hit a part of him, forcing him to pull away and stare at you with wide eyes. He stilled inside of you.  "Say that again," he commanded, his voice low and gravelly.

"I'm yours," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. You brought your hands to his face, gently rubbing his cheeks. The tender, soft touch sent a shock straight to his cock, and he pulled you into a deep kiss. When you pulled apart for air, Cassian’s strokes began to pick up again, his forehead resting on yours. "Fuck me like I'm yours." You said to him, your voice filled with raw desire. 

Cassian’s mind shuffled through the past two weeks, the memories of the bartender hitting on you, of the men who never satisfied you. He felt a primal possessiveness, a need to take you faster, harder, deeper. His thrusts became more aggressive, more forceful, his wings caressing you as they wrapped around both of your bodies. You cried out in pleasure, your body arching beneath him, hands gripping the sheets as you took him deep inside you.

He watched you, admired your body sprawled on the bed before him, his hands on your hips, holding you at just the right angle. His mouth salivated at your beautiful face, flushed and red, and the way your breasts bounced in time with his thrusts. The noise of your fucking was obscene - the soft squeaks of your bed, the wet sounds of your bodies slapping together, the moans and curse words and harsh breathing. His grip on your hips tightened and his thrusts became more erratic. 

Cassian’s movements became faster than you could process– one moment, he was thrusting into you, and the next, he was picking you up, maneuvering you so that you were sitting on his thighs, looking at him as he leaned back. You gasped at the new angle, at the feeling of sinking onto him completely.�� His eyes locked on yours as you straddled him and his hands guided you up and down his cock, your bodies slick with sweat and desire. 

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his hands gripping your ass, guiding you closer to him with each thrust. You could feel his cock swelling inside you, your pussy clenching around him as you rode him harder, faster, your body craving more. “Ride me just like that, sweetheart.” His voice rang in your head, making you dizzy. You arched forward towards him. One hand left your ass, going to grab one of your breasts, fondling with your nipple.  His eyes were dark with desire, his gaze never leaving yours as he watched you take him deep inside you.

As you sank down onto him, his hips bucked up to meet you, your bodies connecting with a primal force. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, your pussy clenching around him as you moaned softly, your eyes closing in pleasure. But Cassian didn't want you to close your eyes. He wanted you to look at him, to see the raw fire in his eyes as he took you. He reached up, his hand wrapping around your throat, his fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp.

"Look at me," he growled, his voice rough like gravel. The sound itself made you clench around him as he fucked you. You opened your eyes, your breath catching in your throat as you met his gaze. His eyes were dark, filled with lust and possession, and you could feel your orgasm building as you looked at him. His hand tightened around your throat as he began to fuck you harder, his hips bucking up to meet you.

You felt his cock sliding deeper inside you, your pussy clenching around him, your body shaking with pleasure.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, "Look at me. Let me see you fall apart on my cock."

As you felt the intensity of your orgasm building, he pulled you down, holding you to his chest, in place, as he continued to thrust into you. You moaned, your forehead resting against his, your eyes locked on his as he continued to fuck you, his cock sliding in and out of you. "Cassian, please, please, I'm so close," you whimpered, your voice hoarse. His hands gripped your ass roughly, pulling you closer to him, sliding deeper and deeper into you with each thrust. 

You felt his heart pounding beneath you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fucked you, his eyes never leaving yours.  He stared at you as he whispered, "I've got you, baby. I've got you."

Your body trembled, your moans grew louder, and soon your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave– your body shook with pleasure, your pussy clenching around him, milking him. You gasped his name, your body convulsing over him, your sensitivity consuming you completely. You felt him tense, his cock swelling even more, and you knew that he was close as well.

His thrusts were rough and hard, each one sending waves of warmth coursing through you. Your body responded to his movements, your cunt massaging him, clenching around him, making him groan in response. He increased his pace, his thrusts becoming even rougher, sloppy, and more urgent. His hips moved in a frenzy, each thrust driving him deeper into you, his cock sliding against your most sensitive spots, making you moan with pleasure. You felt his balls slapping against your ass, the sound and sensation driving you wild, your hands grasped at him, at his shoulders, at his neck, at his hair. 

You felt the tension building within him, his body tensing underneath you as he neared his climax. He gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin, holding you in place as he drove into you. You were certain he’d leave marks in their wake, that your hips, your thighs, your body would be bruised with the evidence of his touch. It made you feral. 

Cassian’s breaths were ragged as he bucked into you roughly, a string of curses falling from his lips. Finally, he let out a low, primal grunt, his face contorted with pleasure as he came, his cum spilling deep within you. You felt the warmth of his seed filling you, the sensation making you shiver with pleasure. His thrusts became slower, gentler, as he tried to catch his breath, his body still trembling from the intensity of his orgasm. His grip on you loosened, and his hands began to rub up and down your spine, gently, softly, lovingly. 

You both laid there for a moment, his cock still deep inside you. Pushing yourself up, you sat upright, Cassian letting out a groan at the feeling of him still inside you, your juices leaking between your legs and onto his skin. His hands rubbed at either of your thighs, both of you breathing heavily as you stared at one another— lips swollen, skin flushed, hair disheveled. You let out a deep breath and let your mouth fall open slightly. 

“You are incredible.” Cassian breathed out, looking up at you, still entranced in your beauty. He admired the marks on your body from his mouth, and felt a small smirk growing on his lips. You let out a small exhausted laugh, your hands coming to rest at his shoulders, rubbing your thumb absentmindedly on his skin. 

“So,” You said, still breathless, your voice raspy, “What now?”

[awearywritersworld]

the three times gojo thinks he might be in love and the time he knows for sure

gojo satoru x reader summary: title says it all w/c: 1k tags/warnings: ft baby megumi. fluff, then some more fluff. gumi refers to reader as mom. one curse word. brief reference to canon typical violence. a/n: i am ridiculously soft for this man. he needs a hug masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

the first time it happens, it's the dead of winter and you're both still teenagers. it's the year before the star plasma vessel mission, when everything in gojo's life feels like it's falling into place. he has friends, real friends, for the first time in his life.

you drag him, kicking and screaming (it's all for show, he'd go anywhere with you), out to a snow covered field. you innocently beg him to turn off limitless, and of course he acquiesces, only to be pelted in the face with a snowball.

he throws himself into the snow upon impact, arms flailing dramatically. "i'm dead! you've killed me!"

you join him on the ground, arms out stretched and nudging the fabric of his coat. "hm, then i guess i'll have to drink all the hot chocolate by myself-"

"i have returned to the living realm!!" he shouts, shooting up into a sitting position. "had to fight god for it, told 'im i couldn't bear to leave my (y/n)-chan!"

"oh, you are so full of shit," you accuse with an amused smile.

you gaze at one another as the snow falls around you silently, both somehow feeling warm despite the frigidness of the air. his glasses have slipped down his nose, giving you a glimpse at his eyes. you're thinking about how the flakes blend in with his lashes before melting away entirely. he's thinking that he might be in love with you.

~~~

some time passes before the second instance, which takes place in the spring. gojo makes his way around campus, looking for wherever you and megumi ran off to. the small boy has been attached to your hip ever since gojo brought him home two years ago.

when he finds you, you're both splayed out in the grass and pointing up at the clouds.

"that one looks like a dog!" megumi exclaims excitedly.

"and that one looks like it might be his ball, don't you think?" you question. he agrees wholeheartedly with an enthusiastic nod.

after awhile, megumi sits up, rubbing at his eyes. "can we go inside now, mom?"

there's a split second he doesn't realize what he's said, but when it dawns on him, he looks down right scared. "'m sorry!"

your features soften and your heart soars before you're gathering him up in your arms.

"oh, my sweet boy," you coo.

rocking him back and forth, you hold him for a few passing moments. he hides his face in your chest, his hands gripping onto your shirt as if it's his life line.

you pull away just enough to see his face. you'd do anything to stop the tears swimming in his eyes, just like any mother would. "you can call me whatever you like 'gumi."

"p-promise?"

"yup!" you assure, bopping his nose with your pointer finger. it earns a small giggle.

gojo watches as you rise from the ground, megumi's head now resting on your shoulder and his arms around your neck. you're humming as you walk back toward the buildings.

gojo's legs are like lead and his heart feels as if it's shifted up into his throat. for the first time, he thinks about getting married, about having a family. your face is at the forefront of every image that forces itself into his mind.

~~~

the third time happens in the dead of night. megumi is asleep and the two of you decide to watch a movie, but you're yawning before he even presses play.

you sit so close to him that you can feel the warmth radiate from his body and although you fight to keep your eyes open, you can't help but be lulled to sleep.

he tenses for a moment when your head lands squarely on his shoulder. it seems as if you're both frozen, but then you let out a soft snore as your body shifts and your hand moves to his stomach. he finally relaxes.

your hair had fallen across your face and he pushes it back behind your ear so that he can see you. he tries to ignore the urge to brush his fingers across your cheekbone, or over your bottom lip. he fails.

gojo remains still for hours, and it feels strange to the usually hyperactive man, but he's terrified of disturbing you. terrified that you'll pull away from him and he'll never get to feel like this again.

he lets that stupid movie play through twice, but he spends most of the time stealing glances at you. he does eventually turn the tv off and the only sounds that remain are the trill of summer crickets outside his window and your soft, slow breaths.

he has no idea what time it is when he falls asleep, but when he finally does, he dreams about that day in the snow.

~~~

leaves fall at your feet as the two of you make your way down the sidewalk. every now and then, your fingers brush against his and it makes his heart skip a beat. he wonders (hopes?) if anyone has mistaken you for a couple.

you come across a familiar mansion, one that the two of you exorcised together as teenagers. it feels like a lifetime ago. you stop at the gate, a bronze glint on the ground catching your eye.

crouching down, you brush away shades of orange and red to reveal a memorial for all the people who had died on the once cursed property.

"for the lives that were taken here, and for the lost soul who took them... may they rest now in the afterlife."

gojo scrunches his nose, about to make some comment about how pitiful it was to commemorate a cursed spirit, but the words die in his throat when you look up at him with watery eyes.

"this is so beautiful," you remark, turning back to the engraved words.

he shoves his hands in his pockets, peering down to read over the words once more. maybe he'd missed something?

"this community was so fearful, remember? people lost friends and family here." he nods even though you aren't looking at him, watching how your fingertips move across the words as if you're considering them further. "the spirit scared them and it stole from them, but they still regard it with sympathy and kindness.. it takes strength to do that, you know?"

he feels his chest tighten as he registers your words. for a fleeting instance, he feels like an asshole for ever finding it pitiful, but that was the thing. you have such an easy way about you, a sort of gentleness he had yet to find in anyone else. the time he spends in your company seems like the only respite he ever gets from the horrors of the world.

he hasn't answered you yet, so you look back to him expectantly. "don't you think it's beautiful, 'toru?"

god, he could fall to his knees right then and there. he could roll over and die on the chilly concrete and he'd consider it a privilege to have died by your side.

i love you. i love you. i love you. those are the only three words his brain can muster.

"yeah," he finally chokes out. "it really is."

[hecateslore]

💌♥️

olderboyfriend!Simon

"You get home safe?" you hear as you hold your phone close to your face. "Yeah." you smile at his concern, "You coming over later?" you ask.

"I'll think about it." you can hear the smirk in his voice. "I don't like uncertainty Mr.Riley." you tease, "I'm aware Ma'am." he jokes which causes a grin to from on your face.

"I gotta go, but I'll call you before I leave. yeah?" He says sighing into the phones mic. "Yeah." you respond. "Love you." he says,

"Love you too."

-

You hear the keys from outside of your door, you were standing in the kitchen getting a glass of cranberry juice (cranberry juice stans riseeeee).

Simon opens the door fully expecting you to be asleep, He took his boots and mask off. "Why're you up?" Simon asked as he took his tactical gear. Voice hoarse from yelling all day.

"Couldn't sleep." you say pouring more juice into your cup. Simon hums walking towards you. Standing by your side, he rubs your back as you take another sip from your glass. "you want to shower?" he asks softly, hand traveling down to hold your lower back. (you know when dogs do that one thing with chew toys, like they shake their head and growl, thats me.)

"took one already." you frown, "i'll be right back then." he gives you a kiss on the cheek and you watch him walk towards your bedroom.

Eventually you finish you finish your cup of juice and head back into you room and plop on your bed, staring up at the ceiling you can hear the shower running. The shower stops and you hear the door click, Simon wanders to your closet looking for some pajama pants he left.

You watch him from the bed, staring at the way his muscles flex as he opens drawers and closes them. He finally finds a pair and puts them on and lays on the bed beside you. "what'd you do today?" he asks adjusting himself on the bed, the pain in his shoulder bothering him in the position he's in. "Went to work, came home, watched some tv then took a shower, took a nap and woke up before you got here and now I'm laying here with you." you look at him and notice the little crease between his brow. you use two fingers to rub between his eyebrows, Simon kisses the fingers that touch his lips softly. "Eventful day." he laughs through his nose. "yup." you hum.

"You know you didn't kiss me today." you prod him in the forehead. "I did." he says defensively. "The cheek doesn't count."

"You didn't want to shower with me." Simon sits up on his elbow, "Cause I took one already." you exclaim, "Loser." he pokes you in the rib cage. "Here, " Simon dips his head to give you a kiss on the lips, giving you small pecks before he pulls away.

"How was your day?" You remember to ask, tracing the shape of his eyebrows. "It was good, long but good." he yawns. "sleepy?" he nods, "Are you gonna be up all night?" you laugh at his question, "Maybe."

Simon only shakes his head at your response. "Well I'm going to bed." Simon pulls the blankets over him, "you're gonna sleep with the lights on." Simon groans before getting up to flip the switch.

You feel his big frame cause a dip in the bed, "Come 'ere." Simon mutters before he grabs your arm and pulls you towards him. Making sure to drape your leg over his lower abdomen.

"Simon?" you call out his name "Hm."

"Love you."

"Love you too."

my asks are open!!!!

[ssahotchnerr]

Ok I just got this image in my head of working out at the FBI gym to unwind after a particularly bad case, and Aaron had the same idea and so you're just there getting distracted because you can't help but stare at him and maybe he finally notices and he's amused - I would die (a happy death)

distractions

you and me both <3 cw; gn!, bau!reader, mutual pining, suggestiveness, your basic cm case descriptions, aaron being hot per usual

your first priority after the jet touched down - the bau's gym.

the case had been unsettling; a not-so-happy ending. sure, you had gotten the guy, but not before he had taken out his most recent victim. he had known it was only a matter of time until he was caught, he had known police had shut down the surrounding area, and managed to complete his endgame before being apprehended.

it happened, sucked when it did. and rather than going straight home, a distraction was in order; to move your body instead of laying in the dark internalizing what could have been done differently.

at the late hour, you expected the gym to be empty, and you had been correct, until aaron walked in about ten minutes after you did.

he seemed just as surprised to see you as you did him, silently nodding a hello at you, heading for the treadmills.

you had been on a yoga mat, stretching and warming up your muscles before doing anything strenuous. but at the sight of him, your impending workout plans were far gone.

you were used to seeing aaron in his usual suit, you'd seen him in casual clothes a few times due to team outings, but nothing could have prepared you for the skin-tight black shirt he was sporting. it was clinging in the all right places - his torso, biceps, and yup - you could've sworn he did have the faintest of abs.

you've always been attracted to him, but this. your mouth had immediately gone dry, your body felt warm despite your lack of movement, and no pure thoughts were in your mind in any capacity.

you tried your hardest to not look, but you couldn't tear your eyes away. how could you not? first reason being, it was him. and then the longer he ran, the sweat caused his shirt to stick to his skin more if it were possible, his chest rose up and down the heavier he breathed. as he jogged his calves flexed, and god were his thighs sexy. his shorts were on the longer side, mid-thigh to be exact, leaving more to the imagination than you would have preferred. but the slightly, newly exposed skin was still, well, new.

so you stayed put, choosing to just admire the view before you. but hopefully to not be too obvious, you performed sit ups; lingering upright to grant yourself the visual before laying back down.

well, at least this is one way to forget about the case.

give or take another five minutes, aaron adjusted the treadmill's settings, slowing to a stop.

"that's it?" you teased, a soft laugh leaving you as you straightened your legs out, reaching for your toes.

as if you were the one to speak, barely moving an inch.

"yeah," he took a swig of his water bottle, panting as he caught his breath. "it's a bit hard to focus with you here."

caught.

"oh my god," your face burned with embarrassment, scrambling to your feet. "i didn't mean to- i mean, you just looked so..."

aaron laughed handsomely, approaching you as your words trailed off. "i meant i don't want to trip over my feet. especially not with you here. it wouldn't look very good for me, i don't think."

oh? "oh."

"but go on." aaron teased, his lips pulling into a smirk as his eyes met yours, dropping for a moment. he was studying you this time around - the light sweat coating your skin, and not very subtly staring at your lips. his breath picked up again, his gaze returning to yours. you also realized, he was dangerously close. "i looked...?"

you swallowed, blinking up at him and managing a soft, "what?"

"i saw you staring. now c'mon, don't start something you can't finish, sweetheart."

[santacoppelia]

Putting the Meta in "Metatron"

(couldn't resist the pun, sorry)

Ok, this has been tickling my brain for a while. I've been thinking about how The Metatron designed his role and discourse specifically to manipulate Aziraphale into the end result we saw in the last minutes of S2. I become obsessed with it because… well, I'm a bit obsessive, but also because there were many really smart writing decisions that I loved (even when I despise The Metatron exactly for the same reasons. Hate the character, love the writer). If you haven't watched Good Omens Season 2, this is the moment to stop reading. Come back later!

We already know that in Book Omens, the role of Gabriel in the ending was occupied by The Metatron. Of course, the series introduced us to Gabriel and we won a lot by that, but I feel that the origins of The Metatron should be considered for any of this. He is not a "sweet old man": he was the one in charge of seeing over the operation of Armageddon; not just a stickler of rules, but the main promoter for it.

However, when he appears in the series finale, we first are primed to almost pass him by. He is in the line for buying coffee, using clothes that are:

obviously not tailored (almost ill fitted)

in dark tones

looking worn and wrinkled

This seems so important to me! All the angels we have seen are so proud of their aspect, wear clear (white or off white) clothes, pressed, impeccable (even Muriel), even when they visit the Earth (which we have already seen on S1 with all the visits to the bookshop). The Metatron chose a worn, comfortable attire, instead. This is a humanized look, something that fools all the angels but which would warm up someone very specific, can you guess?

After making quite a complicated coffee order (with sort of an affable and nervous energy), he makes a question that Crowley had already primed for us when asking Nina about the name of the coffee: having a "predictable" alternative and an unpredictable one.

This creates an interesting parallel with the next scene: Michael is discussing the possibility of erasing Aziraphale from The Book of Life (a punishment even worse than Holy Water on demons, because not having existed at all, EVER is definitely worse than having existed and ceased to exist at some point) when The Metatron arrives, interrupts the moment and signals having brought coffee. Yup, an amicable gesture, but also a "not death" offering that he shows clearly to everyone (even when Michael or Uriel do not understand or care for it. It wasn't meant for them). He even dismisses what Michael was saying as "utter balderdash" and a "complete piffle", which are the kind of outdated terms we have heard Aziraphale use commonly. So, The Metatron has put up this show for a specific audience of one.

The next moment on the script has Metatron asking Crowley for the clarification of his identity. Up to this moment, every angel has been ignoring the sprawled demon in the corner while discussing how to punish Aziraphale… But The Metatron defers to the most unlikely person in the room, and the only one who will push any buttons on Aziraphale: Crowley. After that, Aziraphale can recognize him, and Metatron dismisses the "bad angels" (using Aziraphale's S1 epithet) with another "catchy old phrase", "spit spot", while keeping Muriel at the back and implying that there is a possibility to "check after" if those "bad angels" have done anything wrong.

Up to this moment, he has played it perfectly. The only moment when he loses it is when he calls Muriel "the dim one", which she ignores… probably because that's the usual way they get talked to in Heaven. I'm not sure if Aziraphale or Crowley cared for that small interaction, but it is there for us (the audience) to notice it: the sympathy the character might elicit is built and sought, but he is not that nice.

After that, comes "the chinwag" and the offer of the coffee: the unnecessarily complicated order. It is not Aziraphale's cup of tea (literally), but it is so specific that it creates some semblance of being thought with care, and has a "hefty jigger" of syrup (again with the funny old words). And, as Aziraphale recognizes, it is "very nice!" (as The Metatron "jolly hoped so"), and The Metatron approves of him drinking it by admitting he has "ingested things in my time, you know?". This interaction is absolutely designed to build a bridge of understanding. The Metatron probably knew that the first response he would get was a "no", so he tailored his connection specifically to "mirror" Aziraphale: love of tasty human treats he has also consumed, funny old words like the ones he loves, a very human, worn, well-loved look. That was the bait for "the stroll": the moment when Aziraphale and Crowley get separated, because The Metatron knew that being close to Crowley, Aziraphale would have an hypervigilant soundboard to check the sense of what he was going to get offered. That's what the nasty look The Metatron gives to Crowley while leaving the bookshop builds (and it gets pinpointed by the music, if you were about to miss it).

The next thing we listen from The Metatron is "You don't have to answer immediately, take all the time you need" in such a friendly manner… we can see Aziraphale doubting a little, and then comes the suggestion: "go and tell your friend the good news!". This sounds like encouragement, but is "the reel". He already knows how Crowley would react, and is expecting it (we can infer it by his final reaction after going back for Aziraphale after the break up, but let's not get ahead of ourselves shall we?). He even can work up Muriel to take care of the bookshop while waiting for the catch.

What did he planted in Aziraphale's mind? Well, let's listen to the story he has to tell:

"I don't think he's as bad a fellow… I might have misjudged him!" — not strange in Aziraphale to have such a generous spirit while judging people. He's in a… partnership? relationship? somethingship? with a demon! So maybe first impressions aren't that reliable anyway. The Metatron made an excellent job with this, too.

"Michael was not the obvious candidate, it was me!" — This idea is interesting. Michael has been the stickler, the rule follower, even the snitch. They have been rewarded and recognized by that. Putting Aziraphale before Michael in the line of succession is a way of recognizing not only him, but his system of values, which has always been at odds with the main archangels (even when it was never an open fight).

"Leader, honest, don't tell people what they want to hear" — All these are generic compliments. The Metatron hasn't been that aware of Aziraphale, but are in line with what would have been said of any "rebel leader". They come into context with the next phrase.

"That's why Gabriel came to you, I imagine…" — I'm pretty sure The Metatron didn't imagine this, ha. He is probably imagining that the "institutional problem" is coalescing behind his back, and trying to keep friends close, but enemies closer… while dividing and conquering. If Gabriel rebelled, and then went searching for Aziraphale (and Crowley, they are and item and he knows it), that might mean a true risk for his status quo and future plans.

Heaven has great plans and important projects for you — this is to sweeten the pot: the hefty jigger of almond syrup. You will be able to make changes! You can make a difference from the inside! Working for an old man who feels strangely familiar! And who recognizes your point of view! That sounds like the best job offer of the world, really.

Those, however, are not the main messages (they are still building good will with Aziraphale); they are thought out to build the last, and more important one:

Heaven is well aware of your "de facto partnership" with Crowley…

It would be considered irregular if you wanted to work with him again…

You, and you alone, can bring him to Heaven and restore his full angelic status, so you could keep working together (in very important projects).

Here is the catch. He brought the coffee so he could "offer him coffee", but the implications are quite clear: if you want to continue having a partnership with Crowley, you two must come to Heaven. Anything else would be considered irregular, put them in a worst risk, and maybe, just maybe, make them "institutional enemies". Heaven is more efficient chasing enemies, and they have The Book of Life as a menace.

We already know how scared Aziraphale has always been about upsetting Heaven, but he has learned to "disconnect" from it through the usual "they don't notice". The Metatron came to tell him "I did notice, and it has come back to bite you". The implied counterpart to the offer is "you can always get death". Or even worse, nonexistence (we have already imagined the angst of having one of them condemned to that fate, haven't we?)

When The Metatron arrives, just after seeing Crowley leave the bookshop, distraught, he casually asks "How did he take it?", but he already knows. That was his plan all along: making them break up with an offer Aziraphale could not refuse, but Crowley could not accept. That's why he even takes the license to slightly badmouth Crowley: "Always did want to go his own way, always asking damn fool questions, too". He also arrive with the solution to the only objection Aziraphale would have: Muriel, the happy innocent angel that he received with so much warmth and kindness, is given the opportunity to stay on Earth, taking care of the bookshop. The only thing he would have liked to take with him is not a thing, and has become impossible.

If God is playing poker in a dark room and always smiling, The Metatron is playing chess, and he is quite good at it (that's why he loves everything to be predictable). He is menacing our pieces, and broke our hearts in the process… But I'm pretty sure he is underestimating his opponents. His awful remark of Muriel being "dim"; saying that Crowley "asks damn fool questions", and even believing that Aziraphale is just a softie that can be played like a pipe… That's why telling him the project is "The Second Coming" was an absolute gift for us as an audience, and it prefigures the downfall that is coming — the one Aziraphale, now with nothing to lose, started cooking in his head during that elevator ride (those couple of minutes that Michael Sheen gifted to all of us: the shock, the pain, the fury, and that grin in the end, with the eyes in a completely different emotion). Remember that Aziraphale is intelligent, but also fierce. Guildernstern commited a similar mistake in Hamlet, and it didn't go well:

"Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me, you would seem to know my stops, you would pluck out the heart of my mystery, you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass, and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me."

I'm so excited to learn how this is going to unfold!! Because our heroes have always been very enthusiastic at creating plans together, failed miserably at executing them, and even then succeeding… But now they are apart, more frustrated and the stakes are even higher. Excellent scenario for a third act!

*exits, pursued by a bear*

[blue-blue-blooms]

A Little Crush   

Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader

Part 1

Summary: In which Eddie develops a crush on the Henderson sister.

You weren't sure exactly when your life had gone to absolute shit. Was it when you found a strange, superpowered adolescent girl living in Mike Wheeler's basement? Was it when you walked in on a baby demogorgan eating your cat? Or was it when you were drugged by evil Russians operating under Starcourt Mall? You couldn't even remember a time when life was normal. If someone had told you that you would become best friends with Steve 'The Hair' Harrington and fight literal monsters from an alternate universe alongside Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan 'The Creep' Byers a few years ago, you would've laughed in their face. Now? You'd survived the most traumatising events of your life alongside these people. You were bonded for life.

The last few years had also made you closer with Dustin. You loved your baby brother and his weird friends, especially since you'd spent so much time babysitting them. But no amount of love could make you say yes to what they were asking of you.

"Please?" Dustin begged, following you down the hallway as you made your way to Ms. O'Connell's class.

"No! I have, like, three essays due this week, Dustin. I don't have the time to sub." You respond.

"It's only for tonight! Lucas can't make it and we really need a sub. We're nearly done with the campaign and Eddie will kill us if we make him reschedule!" Dustin pleads.

You were really happy that Dustin and Mike had found a safe space in high school. Lord knows those two idiots needed it. Freshmen year is probably the toughest of them all. You're new, scared, and lonely. You were really glad that they'd found friends, a place where they could be their nerdy selves and feel accepted. Hell, even you'd dabbled in their interests when you'd babysat them. DnD wasn't half bad, and not nearly as hard to undertand as you once thought. You'd spent many nights in Mike's basement playing with them. The first few times, you'd get your character killed in the first fifteen minutes. But after a while, you started making progress (even though you're convinced that the party was exceptionally lenient with you after you once burst into tears over getting killed off).

"I'll do your half of the chores for a week!" Dustin exclaims.

That makes you stop.

"A week?" You turn around to look at him, "Make it two weeks and I'll sub."

"Two? Are you insane!?" Dustin yells, making a few people lingering in the hallway turn and look at you both.

"Two or no deal, Dusty Buns," You tease, "And be quick, I'm late for my class."

"Fine!" Dustin says, "And stop calling me 'Dusty Buns'"

"Why? Is that nickname just for Suzy Poo?" You tease.

Dustin glowers at you as you walk off.

♡♡♡

"So, who's the DM?" You ask as you walk alongside Dustin and Mike.

"It's Eddie, Eddie Munson. He's a senior. Long hair, wears a hellfire T-Shirt, I talk about him constantly. God, do you ever listen to me?" Dustin claims exasperatedly.

"Oh! Eddie as in your new favorite older male best friend who Steve's weirdly jealous of?" You ask, "I've seen him around. Is he the one who jumps on lunch tables and yells a lot?"

"Yup." Mike responded, "He's a bit scary when he's revved up. Just warning you beforehand in case he comes off...a bit intimidating."

You nod.

"Hasn't he been held back, like, three times?" You ask.

Before either of the boys could answer, you reach the room. The first thing you see is the table where the game is set. There are three boys sat around, all with Hellfire T-Shirts on. Your eyes fleet from one to the other until finally landing on Eddie. You recognise him immediately from the amount of times you've seen him yelling in the cafeteria.

Dustin and Mike failed to mention how cute he was, you think.

His hair was long and wavy. He was wearing multiple rings. And he was covered in tattoos. You're pretty sure you saw a few bats peeking from under his sleeve.

"Who's this?" One of the guys asks, making all three turn around and look at you.

"This is Y/N! She's subbing for Lucas!" Mike says, the words spilling out fast and nervously.

Why the hell are they so jittery?

"Yeah, she's my sister! The one I mentioned a couple days ago." Dustin adds.

"Does she even know how to play DnD?" The other boy asks.

"Okay, excuse me, I wouldn't have come if I didn't know how to play," You finally speak, waving your hand a little to get their attention.

"So, this is your infamous sister?" Eddie finally speaks, his eyes landing on you, "You know, I thought he made you up. What's your class and level? Level One Elf?"

Elf? Is he mocking me?

"Are you mocking me?" You ask incredously.

"Is he mocking me?" you turn towards Dustin and Mike who immediately start gesticulating, probably asking you to shut up.

"My name is Aeren Sirenfall and I'm a level 14 chaotic good half-elf rogue. I will sneak behind any monster you throw my way and stab them in the back with my poison-soaked kukri. And I'll smile as I watch them die a slow...agonising...death." You say, your voice slow and hard as you glare at Eddie, "So, are we gonna play this stupid game or not?"

You're pretty sure you hear one of the boys mutter a 'she's terrifying' to Dustin.

You watch as Eddie's eyes slowly soften and a grin emerges on his face, "Welcome to Hellfire Club."

[luvyeni]

I really love your I.N mini skirt fic and I was thinking if you could write a continuation something like this Jeongin will choose an outfit so he choose something really baggy (his shirts or sth). He thought he did a great job until the members start swooning on how cute you look in big clothes. Jeongin at this point just felt defeated cuz you look good in everything. Cute and fluff and…….SMUT 😈

❛PROVE IT❜ ( y. jeongin )

pairings. yang jeongin x fem!reader words. 1.2k

warnings? established relationship , boob play , fingering , unprotected sex , cockwarming

— 𖦹 ( proving how much you love jeongin after he's left feeling jealous ) !

jeongin watched you pick your outfit out for the day , you guys were supposed to be meeting up for lunch at chans house , and once again your outfit was a bit too revealing for his liking.

normally he never questioned it , in fact he loved when you wore revealing clothes — well that's when you where alone. he still let you wear whatever you want , but he was protective , especially in front of his friends.

"princess." you spun around , in your underwear. "yes love?" he stood up off the bed. "how about i pick out your outfit today , wouldn't that be fun." you stared at him blankly. "i don't know , i really wanted to wear that skirt." you pouted.

"baby , you know i love that skirt , but i just thought it would be fun." he said , you just couldn't say no to that cute face. "fine , i'll wear the skirt for girls night next week." he'll deal with that when the night comes , deciding to celebrate the win. "let's see what you pick."

he took a look at your closet , finding the best pair of baggy pants you owned ( which weren't many ) , handing them to you. "okay , these are nice , what about pants?"

he thought about it , before going to his side of the closet , searching for a shirt , he knew he had to find a shirt you'd like or else you wouldn't go through it. "what about this?" he pulled out your favorite shirt of his. "really , i can wear that." he smiled , nodding.

"of course baby , see now you have a nice outfit to wear to chans house , go get dressed while i find you some accessories." you went back into the bathroom , and jeongin felt a weight lifting off his shoulders , smiling as he dug through his jewelry to find you something , just an extra sign that you're his.

jeongin actually felt good , you looked really nice , and he didn't have to worry about getting comments from his members — that's what he thought at first.

the first hour or two it went great , no one questioned your outfit , you guys ate lunch , chatting with everyone. changbin was the first one to finally take notice of your outfit.

"wah ( name ) ! your outfit." he shouted. "it's so nice." you smiled. "you like it?" innie picked it out." you praised your boyfriend. "that's his shirt right ?" han spoke up. "yup."

"you look so much better than him in it." seungmin teased , jeongin rolled his eyes. "stop that." you put your hand on his knee , trying to settle his nerves.

jeongin on the other hand — he was salty , because the compliments didn't stop , they all cooed at you and told you how cute you looked the entire time , up until you both decided it was time for you guys to go.

saying all your goodbyes , you guys started your travels back to your apartment , the entire ride home he was silent , you knew something was wrong , you knew it from the moment he told you to put another outfit on.

"baby?" you let him sulk a bit more , doing your nightly routine before joining him in your room. "can you stop being so sulky now , we're home now , you can tell me what has been bothering you since we left this morning." he had been caught.

"how'd you know?" you chuckled. "you let me wear your shirt and your jewelry , i didn't have to steal it from you." he pouted , as you climbed into his lap. "now tell me what's bothering you." he sighed , embarrassed.

"you're too pretty." you were taken aback. "im too pretty?" he hummed. "and i thought that maybe if i put you in something that wasn't like what you normally wear then they wouldn't pay attention to you , but it back fired , you're just to pretty and everything you wear will attract attention and it makes me jealous."

it actually makes you feel bad that he thinks like this. "innie." you grabbed his face , making him look you in the eyes. "i love you , and only you , i've told you this." you said. "i don't want anyone else but you , not your members , not a random at a bar , you."

"you promise?" you nodded , "i swear." you pressed your lips against his. "i love you so so much." he smiled , his eyebrows wiggling. "how much do you love me?" regardless of his playful state , you could feel his hardening cock in his shorts. "you want me to prove it?" you moved your hips. "sh-shit ( name )."

you got off his lap , he undid his pants , taking them off. you got in between his legs , bending down , kissing his cock through his underwear. "gonna make you feel better." you looked up at him , slowly dragging his underwear down , his cock standing tall , his mushroom tip dripping with pre-cum.

you kissed his tip , pulling away with a string of his pre-cum on your lips. "ba-baby , you're supposed to be making it up to me , don't be a tease." his voice telling you that he wasn't joking , taking him into your mouth.

"fuuuuck." he drew out his words , throwing his head back. "your mouth feels so good." you immediately got to work , bobbing your head up and down , holding his thighs. "look at me baby."

you listened , looking up at him locking eyes. "so fucking pretty baby." he groaned. "you're pretty any other day , but you look even more pretty when you're taking my cock down your tiny throat."

you hollowed your cheeks , sloppily sucking him off , gagging on his cock when he pushed your head down , holding you there as he bucked his hips up , fucking for face. "sh-shit , im gonna cum— ngh fuck ! " he shot his cum to the back of your throat , coating it white.

"good fucking girl , get up here." he pulled you into your into his lap , wiping the droplets off cum off your lips. "open up pretty girl." he pushed his fingers into your mouth. "good."

he rubbed your clit through your silk shorts , pulling them to the side. "gonna let me fuck you right?" you nodded , grinding on his cock. "please , want it inside." you whined. "go ahead and sit on it."

you hovered right above his cock , lowering yourself on him. "mhm fuck , you took me so well." he grunted , your wet cunt squeezing him ever so tightly. "m-made just for me." you bounced on his cock , he held your waist.

"innie." you whined. "wan' a kissed." he held the back of your neck , kissing your lips , moving his hips with yours , the knot in your stomach building up.

"love your pussy so much , feels so good." he moaned against your lips. "it's mines right , tell me it's mines." he moved his hands from the back of neck to the front , choking you , you gasped for breath. "tell me." he growled.

"m-my pussy i-is yours." he sped his hips up. "that's it , you're mine." his sharp thrust sent you over the edge. "fuck!" you screamed , cumming. "fuck , gonna breed this pussy." he grunted , thrusting up a few more times , before cum shot from his cock , whitening your insides.

"fuck , shit!" he cursed , your pussy milking him for everyone he had. he sighed , kissing your forehead. "im not done baby." he whispered.

"you still have a lot of proving up to do."

©️LUVYENI

[lovinpelova]

forgive me | n. charles

summary; you always forgive your lover.

🎵 idfc - blackbear

as soon as the gate opened for chelsea to start scoring goals you knew this wasn't going to be arsenal's night. six minutes after the first and eleven minutes after the second you were down 3-0 with no hope of your team meshing together, substitutes doing nothing apart from aiding kim in the last minute goal that took away chelsea's clean sheet.

whilst you were happy to score one goal, it wasn't enough. you were playing awfully with possession in midfield and defence as a cdm twinned with wally, both of you trying to track back and block attacks but ultimately having to rely on manu to deliver in the second half. fresh legs did nothing for arsenal and the only goal you scored was from a deflection, chelsea had gotten their revenge at stamford bridge.

with only twenty minutes to go niamh got subbed off after being tended to by the medical staff at chelsea, your mind immediately running wild with bad thoughts when you saw her holding her knee but eventually calming down when she walked off perfectly fine. the chelsea players walking off to time waste and getting more physical had earned a reaction from you, the referee gifting you a yellow card and warning you to stop protesting before she put you on a red. it's safe to say after that, a horrible team performance, remembering you had to play chelsea in the continental cup final, having a low player rating yourself and spending the night at niamh's house - you were in a foul mood.

fair enough, the game wouldn't have made much of a difference for arsenal if you'd won due to how far behind you were in goals and points, but it's the performance that was bugging you all. the league standings were the same, united too far behind for arsenal to be worrying about losing their spot, but when you're yelling at your teammates in disagreement and failing to keep possession anywhere on the pitch it starts to play a mental game on you all. chelsea took advantage of that - and whilst you congratulated them all happily with a genuine smile on your face, you couldn't help but let out a deep sigh of relief and exhaustion when you collapsed into the passenger seat of your girlfriend's car.

"good game?"

you shook your head with another deep exhale, for some reason having tears in your eyes at such a harsh loss.

"definitely not."

you replied with a wobble in your voice, niamh seemingly not registering how upset you were due to her adrenaline still pumping from such a large win. she'd been teasing you ever since you won 4-1 against chelsea last time, saying if chelsea beat arsenal when you were sleeping at hers for the weekend that she wouldn't let you live it down, but you didn't think she'd actually follow through with her promise.

"i reckon the socks gave you a bit of bad luck, don't you? i mean- nothing was working for you guys."

"yup, gathered that from the scoreline niamhy."

the defender processed her nickname as a fond expression rather than an annoyed one, continuing to rant about how good of a game chelsea had for the fifteen minute drive home whenever she had seen something that reminded her of the club or remembered a good tackle she'd made.

you'd been tuning out her rants the entire way and she hadn't noticed your dip in attitude since the final whistle blew, your fuse seconds away from blowing in fury.

"you hungry babe? actually nevermind, i'm sure you're full after having that defeat shoved down your throat."

"oh- niamh just shut up for one second would you!"

the brunette stood still in the kitchen with a shocked expression, turning to you as she watched your face writhe in anger.

"i'm sick and tired of hearing your cocky little comments every time you win against arsenal!"

"excuse me? don't act like you don't make comments when arsenal win against chelsea-"

"i do but i don't shove them down your throat and go on about it for the entire fifteen minute drive home!"

niamh pushed herself off the counter so she was stood upright, her jaw slack in shock at your sudden outburst and the way you were yelling. normally you spoke to your girlfriend about anything that was annoying you, so it seems the anger of such a big loss was still hanging over your head and making you act out.

"i'm not shoving anything down your fucking throat y/n! you need to watch your tone- it's not my fault arsenal played shit today!"

"don't you dare talk about my team like that! i didn't insult chelsea's performance when we won at the emirates, you have absolutely no right to be saying that!"

by now you'd made your way into the kitchen and were stood on the other side of the island, staring into niamh's eyes furiously as she returned the rage you were emitting. she thought tonight would be peaceful judging by your silence in the car and smile at stamford bridge when congratulating the blues, but she must have read you wrong.

"i'm not talking shit about your team, i'm telling the truth! the only goal you managed to score was off a fucking deflection! how is that a good game?!"

"i never said we had a good game! you need to shut your fucking mouth about my club and how we played tonight- you don't play for arsenal, so you don't have a say in the matter!"

"oh so all of a sudden my opinion on performances doesn't matter just because i play for chelsea, does it?!"

"shut the fuck up niamh! i'm so sick of your bullshit! go get your ego in check and come talk to me when you're done acting like a fucking toddler!"

before your girlfriend could respond you stormed off into the guest room of her apartment, angrily putting your phone on charge after slamming the door behind yourself. you could hear niamh angrily mumbling things to herself in the kitchen, soon followed by the quiet noise of her tv turning on as she seemingly resided in the living room.

you hadn't meant to lash out at niamh, it was the last thing you ever wanted to do, but with her constant teasing and cocky remarks for almost half an hour straight you couldn't help yourself. you'd blown up on each other and were now waiting to calm down, expecting the other to apologise first before remembering you were both too stubborn for your own good, soon feeling sleepy from the exhaustion of constantly running back and forth. not even bothering to get under the duvet or fluffy blanket niamh had put at the foot of her spare bed, you let sleep overcome your senses.

during the middle of the night you woke up to the door opening and closing, a body shuffling into bed behind you and wrapping strong arms around your waist with soft kisses along your shoulder and neck. quiet apologies were whispered against your skin with thumbs rubbing the muscles of your stomach to fully wake you up.

"i'm sorry babygirl. you know i can't sleep on an argument, i didn't mean to talk bad about your club like that. i was just still a bit too happy about the win."

your arm reached behind you to pull niamh further into you by her neck, sighing in comfort when you felt her continue to pepper soft kisses along your exposed skin.

"i didn't mean to insult you like that. i know how cocky you can get, i should've told you i wasn't up for teasing or just asked for space when i started getting mad."

you turned in her arms and pressed your forehead against hers instinctively, hands caressing her cheeks as you closed your eyes and breathed in deeply. niamh continued to rub her thumbs across your hips in a comforting manner, both of you breathing in sync to calm down and forgive the other for lashing out. your thumbs traced along her jawline and up her chin, searching for her lips and dragging her bottom one down teasingly to let her know you were going to kiss her, the defender gladly letting you as she kissed you back softly with a smile to match your own. you pecked her lips a couple more times to test the waters, trying not to let your breathing pick up when she gripped your hips a tiny bit harsher with more intent than before.

"niamh,"

"y/n,"

she breathlessly whispered your name to match your call of hers, both of you closing your eyes and resting your foreheads together. the curtains were slightly drawn back from the window behind you- and by god, was the moonlight doing wonders for her eye colour.

"i love you baby."

your immediate response was to kiss her passionately, lingering on her lips with your thumb rubbing over her cheekbone and noses touching due to the lack of distance.

"i love you my girl."

you mirrored her words and felt her cheeks wrinkle up in a genuine smile, the defender leaning in to kiss you softly with one hand pulling you by the side of your neck as yours moved to trace along her pulse point lovingly. niamh smiled at the feeling of your fingertips trailing down her body, pulling away and biting your lip in a teasing response before you forced her to pull away by shoving her shoulder.

"turn around, i wanna be big spoon."

niamh complied to your order without any hesitation and a matching grin, turning around and reaching behind to tug your arm around her waist, kicking your leg softly when you scoffed at her eagerness and quickly sinking back into your touch with a relaxed sigh to match your own.

[hopeluna-archived]

I have the feeling that if you would Touch/lick the horns of the obey me! Brothers they would get turned on.....

Now I need headcanon's to that help! 😭😭

!! Just a little touch | obey me.

Characters: The brothers x gn!reader

CW: none really, maybe a bit suggestive also kinda a bit crack ngl

A/N: I know this took centuries but i've finally done this request > <

m.list

Lucifer

Lucifer was not expecting this today. For the first time in forever, he was allowing someone else to care and groom his wings, he didn't think that a accidental touch of your fingers on his horns would affect him this much.

You're none the wiser to this 'cause Lucifer reacts with nothing a small twitch of his wings. But when you're done with the task in hand, you best believe you're not leaving his room for a while.

Mammon

Unlike Lucifer, Mammon has quite a reaction. You were just innocently cuddling when your hands made contact with his horns while brushing your fingers through his hair. Mammon's relaxed posture instantly stiffens up before he proceeds to turn red in the face, asking you what do you think you're doing?

As he lays back down, still quite flustered, Mammon carefully takes your hand and puts it back on his head, close to his horns, with a mumbled "didn't tell ya to stop"

Leviathan

Oh no, Levi definitely didn't want this to happen. He definitely didn't convince you to cuddle in the bathtub where there is hardly any room between your bodies and he definitely didn't subtly nudge his head in your hands.

When you do brush your hands against his horns, he asks you, in a shaky voice, to do it again which elicits a whimper falling from his lips. You definitely didn't cuddle afterwards.

Satan

Satan almost drops the stack of papers in his hands when he feels you touch his horns. You two had been walking home from a long day at RAD, as much as he wanted to, Satan couldn't entirely focus on what you were chatting about 'cause of how tired he was. All he wanted was to go home and sleep, he missed the way you voiced your curiosity over his horns.

He must have nodded his head to you asking to touch them. Well he's sure his heart is about to burst out of his chest and he probably wasn't going to get much sleep later either.

Asmodeus

Asmo halts his talking, blinking rapidly before a smile stretches over his face. Oh well aren't you just absolutely adorable? Being fascinated by his horns and touching them so delicately, not knowing the thrill that just shot in him.

He can't help it! Your hands are just so soft and he can't help but melt at the affectionate and careful touch. Oh and you're utterly memorizing face as you continue touching his horns, unknowing of the thoughts swirling in his head.

Beelzebub

Beel pauses almost comically when you touch his horns. Retracting your hand, as you quickly begin to apologise for doing that without permission, you feel Beel dip his head more into your hands, "you can touch them", and so you card your hand through his hair, softly feeling the horns.

Beel is thankful for his ability to maintain a poker face, though his cheeks do turn a bit pink, because the feel of your hand is quickly making his current hunger overcome with desire.

Belphegor

Belphie slowly blinks his sleep filled eyes at the touch. Smirking at the way you fumble on being caught, he quickly pulls you down with him in the soft bed and takes your hand to put it back on his head. He must've been too relaxed that his demon form had come out while he was sleeping.

Nevertheless, Belphie doesn't think that he can go back to slumber when you continue to inspect his horns. Yup, he definitely wasn't going back to sleeping.

© hopeluna. Do not copy, translate, modify or repost any of my work in this or any other site. Do not steal or modify my ideas/concepts either.

[webslingingslasher]

You mentioned once or twice that frat!peter isnt as affectionate when his brothers are around so I was wonder if we could get a little something something about reader just stop being affectionate towards him in general because she didn’t mind initially since some people are just like that when it comes to pda but it’s just starting to feel to make her feel like he’s just repulsed by her ☹️

i imagine this is when they first start entering the situationship era. cause i think they were hooking up for a minute and then the lines started to blur and thats when this starts happening.

so let's say,

one night you're sitting next to him on the couch and peter's got his hand rubbing from your knee to inner thigh and back down while he's talking to you.

and when two of his frat brothers come around from the back of the couch, and one chooses to sit on the arm rest, the other on the coffee table across from him. peter's hand stops and he drops it back on his own leg. so, you try to reach out your hand to hold his but he brings his up to move his hat, obviously dodging your hold, so you got up for a drink and stayed away.

----------

the next time this happens was a morning after you spent the night, the house had gone out for breakfast and peter had made you and him breakfast, which was the first time he's ever done something like that.

you're on counter and he's got his waist slotted between your thighs with his hands up his your shirt while making out. peter pulls at the back of your knees and pulls you flush to him, subtly pulling your underwear down when the front door opens and you hear loud chatter and laughs.

peter flies backwards and turns his back completely, grabbing cups from the cabinet and pulling orange and apple juice from the fridge. he nods his head in a greeting when ethan walks in, "look who stayed the night," he gave you a fist bump.

peter holds up the juices and you point for the one in his left hand, "yup, couldn't get her to leave if i tried."

that makes you feel shitty, "no, you absolutely could. you could've said 'hey, you should go,' instead of 'let me make you breakfast and fuck you on the kitchen island.'"

tarrent's next in the kitchen, "bro, your chicks got buttcheeks on the counter."

peter places a hand on your lower back, "let's stop looking at my girls ass and let her get upstairs." he holds your arm as you jump down, tugging his shirt down to cover your bottom completely.

you speed up the steps, then call out, "i like my toast dark!" before you could hit the landing you heard ethan, "you so like her."

"gross, shut up, keznek."

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

the final time you arrived to a party late and searched around until you found him talking in a small huddle of his friends so you walked up with a happy grin and pushed yourself up to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"hi, handsome." the most subtle shift away, "hey," you watched him look around the room, "got any friends here?" that must mean he doesn't see himself as one, how rude.

if he doesn't want you acting like you know him outside of fucking that's fine with you. but he doesn't get to act one way around you and another around his friends, it's confusing and unfair.

"you know what, peter? you suck."

you hear his friends scoff and softly 'oo' when you walk off, peter calls out behind you, "what does that mean?" you wanted to turn around and tell him off, but you think giving him a taste of his own medicine is better.

so, you go straight to the kitchen to down three shots and grab a cup of whatever so you could jumpstart the peter hate train. it took a while, but you finally made him break away from his friend group when you'd been in an unbroken conversation with a random guy for ten minutes.

"hey, where you been?" a territorial arm is thrown around your waist, you brush his hand off and step to the side. "hey, i'll catch up with you in a minute."

and that makes peter want to explode. you're blowing him off for some random guy? some guy that's mostly no threat?"

"well-"

you gesture to the side with your head, "see you later, parker." and to stab him a little harder when he turns his back you shake your head and beam a smile, "sorry, he's kinda weird. what were you saying?"

but when you don't even find him after and wonder into the kitchen he's almost seething. peter walks up behind you and tugs at your arm, "hey, what the fuck was that?"

innocently, "what are you talking about?"

"well, let's see, trouble." he starts counting with his fingers, "you threw my arm off you, you blew me off, you cut me off, um, parker? then you said i was weird and you apologized on my behalf when i all was trying to do was talk to you."

you pout sarcastically, "oh, did i? i'm sorry, i just know how you are with me hanging all over you around your friends." peter dares look confused, "what do you mean?"

"oh!" you blink fast, "you hate it! so, i refuse to do it. and going forward, we'll keep the same energy, so no more hanging around after sex."

"no, what? why do you think i hate it? i mean, where's this coming from?" is... peter panicking a little?

"peter, you pull away and act like you don't know me everytime your friends come around. you act one way when we're alone and another when someone from the house comes around, it's unfair."

"it's not personal, trouble! if they figure out how much i like you i'll never hear the end of it."

"so... you're emotionally manipulating me because you don't want to be teased?"

when you put it like that it makes him feel terrible.

"no! yes? but not purposely. and hey, from now on, no more pulling away. even if i get roasted by every one. you have my word."

"i don't believe you."

that means prove it.

peter grabs your hips and lifts you to plop you on the counter next to the sink, he moved with such accuracy you yelp and rest your hand over his. before you could say anything ethan glides into the kitchen, unfazed by the sight.

"yo, parker, will you grab... and nevermind," just to prove a point, he kissed you while his best friend was mid question and watching.

[doromoni]

A Rivalry Misunderstood | LN4

Ships : Lando Norris x McLaren Driver! Reader

Genre : Angst , Romance

Warning : Toxic! Lando , Possessive! Lando

Summary : You’re the new Golden Rookie of McLaren F1 , a driver loved and accepted by everyone. But Lando may beg to differ.

masterlist

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Quickly passing by every motorhome as you joyfully skip through the paddock , signing merchandise and taking photos with the fans. The Sprint race had just finished — with you getting your first Formula 1 win as a rookie! Well technically, but you were happy either way. Congratulations and pats on the back were constant from your team and even competitors as you made your way towards your own motorhome.

Life as a rookie in formula 1 had its ups and downs , majority of the people around have been supportive. However, oddly enough, you expected the least person to be against you would be your teammate … yet, here we are. You never understood Lando’s dislike towards you , it was so out of the blue and you could not think of anything you could have done to earn his mistrust.

You were always on your best behavior, and you always made an effort to be friendly towards your senior driver. You always made sure that you were cautious and that you didn’t step on any toes.

Busy with your thoughts, you reached your motorhome. So here you are, walking towards your designated driver room. Nearing the hallway of your destination.Head filled with thoughts but at the same time empty, not noticing the built figure as you turned the corner. Both bodies weren't aware of the other person, bumping into each other with a thump.

The person was heavy for sure, a built composed of lean and hard muscles. How would you know? He was currently lying on top of you. You were pressed by his chest, while he was on top of you. Yup … definitely muscled, you can feel it through your fireproofs

" Urghh, watch where you're going " you groaned in pain. Suddenly , you were face to face with the your teammate, Lando Norris.

His face was painted with an expression you cannot understand ... His toned arms were beside your head, trapping you between him and the floor . You stared at your co-driver, his hazelnut brown wavy hair, dark emerald eyes as green as the amazon forest, and a jawline that could rival a sword.

Unconsciously, your hand trailed the bridge of his nose to the soft and plump lower lip that the man possessed.

" What the hell are you doing" Stopping yourself from examining him more, and finally connected the dots. You were pressed on the floor by Lando Norris! The person who hated you and wanted you gone.

Almost automatically, you put your hands on his chest — an effort to push him . But alas, your efforts were null, when he suddenly pinned your hands above your head.

Struggling from his iron grip, and sighing into submission and decided to use your brain rather than brawn. Since trying to force yourself out would do you no good, knowing that he was much stronger than you were.

Having enough of his attitude and his harsh treatment , you realized being nice was never going to work— and that you don’t actually care about what he thought of you. And for the first time with him , you set your foot down and served him the attitude that he served you all the time that you were his teammate.

"I think your male bravado is content now, right? having a girl defenseless and restricted. I suggest letting me go now " you felt his hold on your wrist grow even tighter.

Steeling your front , you stared back into his glare, challenging his piercing glare.

"Why? Do you have somewhere to go? Have more people to suck up to? Don't you think that's low ,even for you?" A dangerous glint in his eyes. And an animosity in his voice that you couldn't decipher. He drew his face closer to yours, you felt his breath on your cheeks , an inch more his lips would touch yours.

Suddenly finding the situation amusing, a chuckle slipped your lips. Your chuckling then turned into laughter, and this stunned Lando, as he stared at your face, still sharing the same breath.

He can’t beat you on track, so he now uses other tactics to up you. Funny.

"Funny, such accusation are done by you , don't you think? Oh that's right its because the team actually prefers me now over you. Now that I’ve actually given them a win... hmm or maybe we all should be like you and bow and cower when max’s car shows in the mirror? “

Of course that wasn’t true, you just wanted to aggravate the English driver more. Once again, you tried prying your hands off his grip.

"Shut the fuck up . You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. " Lando bit back with so much animosity. You were definitely scared now .

Realizing that you are in the middle of a hall way and is still beneath Lando, you once again struggled to push him off.

" You know what, let go of me! I need to go to the debriefing for Pete's sake" You started squiggling trying to move away from under him, when an deep growl vibrated through your ear, causing shivers down your spine and goosebumps littering the nape of your neck.

"Don't.Move" Hearing him swallow and steady his breath, you smirked as you lay still below him and glared into his eyes challenging him further

Lando finally lets go of you as he stood up. Scrambling to your feet and dusting yourself off ; adjusting your driver suit and fixing your hair. You the felt his stare on you.

"What? The hell are you staring at?" With a scowl, you folded your arms and returned his stare with a glare.

"You changed your fireproofs" You looked down at your clothes . Your race suit was half open and your fireproofs were showing.

"What? Even my uniform you've got issues with? Should I also have my uniform exactly like yours instead? " you asked with a sneer as you patted the crease on your pants

"Stop trying to be different from everyone on the team! Fucking mooching on every mechanic . Know. your. fucking. place “ The British driver said scathingly.

Suddenly pissed, you decided to provoke Lando even further. Having enough of his bullshit. You drew your body near his , going on your tippy toes and placing a delicate hand on his chest, slowly dragging your fingernails to draw patterns on his fireproofs, feeling him tense under my touch. Fuck it! You were already a slut in his eyes anyway.

Slowly moving your lips to his jaw then towards his ear and whispered

"Does that make you angry, hmm, Lando? little ol me taking your precious spotlight? People adoring me instead of you. “ You tutted , making sure your voice held rotting sweetness

“All eyes on me. Does that make your blood boil? You getting nothing while I have everything, Lando?" Adding emphasis on his name, you gently moved your hand towards his hair and pulled.

Feeling Lando freeze and grow rigid from your touch you chuckled, you were about to move away, when you felt a hand wrap around your waist and suddenly pinning you against the wall with force.

" Don't fucking test me princess. Your playing a dangerous game. No one will look at you, I'll make sure of that.... Don’t prance around trying to win everyone to your side, you’re only mine to look at “ His lips ghosting the shell of your earlobe as he pulled you into his embrace even tighter.

Your breath hitched when you felt his teeth nip your ear. His lips traveled down your jaw to your neck, harshly biting the skin he traveled. He licked the junction of your neck and your shoulder, sucking and lapping his tongue over the bite. He let out a moan while you whimpered.

" Baby? I Never knew you could taste this good" Speechless , you stared at him as he licked his lips, your mind trying to gather any thought it could process.

"Win all the races you want, I don’t care. But don’t fucking flirt with anyone … and I don’t care if he’s your engineer. " With a kiss on the cheek and a squeeze on your waist , Lando was gone

You stood shocked, heart pounding, in the deserted hallway,trying to piece everything that just happened.

[optimist-pine]

Eloquence

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: implied injury, implied past emotional abuse

Summary: A short one shot/drabble.

Era: Season 2, the Farm

Daryl has never had much of a thing for words. His whole life he'd toed the line; two steps away from saying the wrong ones and paying the price. Words shine a light upon thoughts (which he preferred to keep to himself), and feelings (which almost always got out of hand.) They had perhaps been the worst weapons of his past, like hammers demolishing and striking down relentlessly instead of building up. Intentional or not.

After Merle left, blessedly taking his limited vocabulary with him, a rather peaceful silence emerged. It wasn't long before the absence grew to become it's own annoyance though, and that's when he found himself drawn to new words - yours. He'd never found words beautiful until he really heard you speak. As skillful and precise as a master practicing their craft, each word a genuine and perfect combination of head and heart. For the first time Daryl was intrigued enough to truly listen.

That didn't change how he was wired though. His frustration only grew each time he proceeded to act on his own impulsiveness and snap at someone, or when he reacted in the way he despised most. It felt as though his admiration for you in that regard was pushing all of his own shortcomings to the surface.

Regardless of his own insecurities, you must've at least found him to be a tolerable conversationalist. With increasing frequency he'd suddenly find himself the object of your attention, inquiring about his opinion on whatever the group had been discussing, or even just asking about him on a more personal level.

Most often though, you'd ask him to explain some aspect of hunting, tracking, or other obscure wilderness knowledge. Every time he immediately felt like an idiot, your patience and attentiveness making him nervous enough to stumble over some words and forget others. 

"See how tha' one got cut off all sharp an' attan angle?" He asked, gesturing with the toe of his boot at a stem eaten off a few inches from the ground. "An', there ain't any leaves left."

You crouched down to get a better look at what was left of the little twig. "Rabbit?" You guessed, squinting up at Daryl's face.

A quick nod. "Yup." He replied.

"Yes!" You stood, pumping your fist in mock victory with a laugh. "You're a good teacher, Daryl." You smiled at him and his heart did a tiny summersault.

Truthfully you were quite intuitive. He'd barely had to teach you much of anything, and definitely nothing worthy of being praised for. "Naw." He grunted, turning to continue on your trek trough the woods. "Best get a move on."

"Hey." You huffed, jogging a bit to catch up with his quick strides. "I really do appreciate you taking the time." You grabbed his arm, pulling him to a stop. You didn't start speaking again until he met your eyes. "You do make a good teacher. Unless you think I'm a liar." Your eyes were as unwavering as your grip on his arm and it made him feel like some unfortunate raccoon caught in headlights.

Your sudden firmness caught him off guard. Where your fingers wrapped around his bicep his skin practically burned, the heavy Georgian heat weighing down on him. He swallowed and then managed to scrape together a, "Course I don'."

Immediately the corner of your mouth quirked up. With a hum of satisfaction you released him, continuing your search for Sophia.

---

The next evening Daryl was more than relieved to hear your voice. Earlier that day the two of you had split up on your search in order to cover more ground, and after barely making it back in one piece himself he couldn't help but worry until your return. 

Breathless, you called out his name, peeking into the bedroom that had become a sort of infirmary, your face twisted up with... worry? "Oh, thank God." You gasped. 

He was pleased to see that you looked no worse for wear, but still he didn't like you being so upset for no reason. It agitated something within him to be anyone's burden. "What're y'all worked up about, woman?" He asked.

You hurried to his side, trying to slow your breathing. "Carol said you'd been shot in the head. I just- I..." You panted, eyes darting around, inspecting all of him enough to make him feel self conscious.

"Ya what?" It came out more gruffly than he'd intended.

You shook your head. He couldn't recall ever really seeing you at a loss for words. "I was afraid that you..." Your hand started to stretch towards him before you pulled away. "You're okay?" You asked, eyes wide.

He almost wished you hadn't pulled away so soon. Just to see if your touch still burned like it had before. "Yeah." He said quietly.

You hovered over him, apparently in no hurry to leave. He realized he didn't actually want you to leave, in fact, he desperately wanted you to stay, to have your company instead of being confined to this perfectly quiet room alone. Selfishness began to bloom inside him and he longed to hear you, to have your attention all to himself. He was certain your voice would soothe and heal more powerfully than any medicine or even time itself. Was it wrong to want that from you? 

"Could ya read ta me?" He asked before he'd even decided to let the words out.

The red on your cheeks from the summer sun began to darken. "What?" You asked, slightly taken aback. Your eyebrows were drawn together as they always were when you were thinking. 

He hadn't meant to say that aloud; sounding like some sort of small, scared kid asking for a bedtime story. Hell, he'd never had any of those even when he was a kid. "Sorry, nevermind." He muttered, pulling the covers up and turning his back to you.

"No, no. I can." You blurted, maybe a little too loudly. "That sounds nice. Haven't had the time to read, what with the end of the world and all." You laughed dryly. Had he made you uncomfortable? You sounded nervous the way you were rambling - he could hear your boots shifting on the hardwood floor. 

The bed creaked as he rolled back over, but there you were, a small smile unhindered by the grime and dirt sprinkled across the rest of your skin. "Any uh... any requests?" You asked.

"Whatever ya like." He replied, then added, "Nothin' trashy."

And as you sat on the bed beside him, the soft candlelight flickering gently across your features in the darkness, his heart slowed and an unexpected warmth filled him. It was as if every kindness he'd ever experienced was multiplied, each one crammed inside of him until he was practically bursting and then the feeling flooded over him bringing the warmth to every part that he thought was doomed to stay cold forever. 

He listened to the melody of your words, watched the way your eyes were losing the struggle to stay open, felt the heat from your side pressed ever so slightly against his. He felt like a child again, the overwhelming desire to be protected that had never been fulfilled when he was young. In this moment he felt more love than he had his whole life. 

As sleep finally claimed you he quietly set the book aside, pulling you down into the comfort of the bed. He hesitated to blow out the candle, secretly relishing the peaceful look on your face. As the red glow of the wick faded away, he promised himself that someday he would have the words to tell you everything.

[awearywritersworld]

stay as long as you need

fushiguro toji x reader summary: toji can't stop hanging around his new neighbor, even though she has a boyfriend. oh well, he knows he's better for her anyway. w/c: 1.2k tags/warnings: hurt/comfort. angst to fluff. domestic violence perpetrated by reader's boyfriend, but nothing terribly graphic; the incident is discussed after the fact, not depicted. implied age gap. protective!toji. toji actually being nice. cliche "who did this to you" moment. fem!reader a/n: WHY IS HE SO HOT??????? I JUST WANT HIM TO TAKE CARE OF MEEEEEEEEE (OR CRUSH ME WITH HIS THIGHS, IM NOT PICKY) on a less unhinged note, thanks for reading!! masterlist

"need some help?"

you nearly jump upon hearing the words, having been lost in your own little world. when you turn around, you're met with a dark haired, well built man and just the sight of him makes your cheeks feel hot.

"oh, i- um," you glance between him and the heavy box in your hands.

he's already taking it from you though, effortlessly balancing it in one hand before opening the door for you with the other.

"thanks," you squeak out, stepping inside your new apartment building.

he smirks down at you, eyes raking over your body. toji isn't exactly the good samaritan type, but for a pretty little thing like you, he can certainly make an exception.

the elevator button lights up when he presses it. "just moving in?"

"yup! third floor. getting everything up there has been quite the ordeal, so i appreciate your help," you explain sweetly.

when the metal doors slide open, he lets you step inside first.

"hm, all by yourself? no boyfriend in the picture?" well, the sorcerer killer has never been one for subtly.

"yeah, actually," you return sheepishly. "he's just out with his friends at the moment."

"that so?" you don't see the look of judgement that crosses his face, though it isn't at all directed toward you.

once you emerge on your floor, toji follows along just a step behind you. he can't help his amusement when you stop at your door. "would you look at that. i guess we're neighbors now."

his head nods toward his own apartment, just two doors down from yours. "oh good! i'm glad this wasn't too far out of your way."

"don't worry about it, wouldn't have been any trouble either way."

you offer him a bashful smile before your door clicks open, revealing quite a few boxes just inside. "you can just put that anywhere, don't mind the mess.. i'm (y/n), by the way."

"toji." he places it on top of one of the other boxes, honestly impressed that you managed to get so many upstairs by yourself. "can i have your car keys?"

he thinks the look of confusion that crosses your features is just too cute. "what for?"

he chuckles because it should be obvious, but clearly you aren't used to being taken care of. "to get the rest of your boxes, princess."

~~~

the next afternoon, toji answers a knock at his door and finds you on the other side. you've got a plate of fresh cookies in your hand, which you shyly offer to the tall man. "these are for you. thank you so much for all your help yesterday! i couldn't have done it without you."

"thanks, you didn't have to," he tells you, although he's happy you did. when he pulls them from your grasp, his hands brush yours. he invites you in, insisting he can't enjoy them alone, but really he just wants to get to know you.

and he does. over the next few weeks, you spend a surprising amount of time in one another's company. whenever he bumps into you in the hall, he'll chat with you for a while, even (or, especially) when he's running late to a job.

one day you mention that a shelf you ordered came disassembled, so he offers to come over and put it together for you. of course you show up at his door the next day with a new plate of cookies.

another morning, toji groans when he discovers that he's out of tea, but quickly realizes it's the perfect excuse to knock on your door. when it swings open, he swallows thickly, taking in your tiny shorts and thin tank top. it was obvious you'd just woken up.

you're no better than he is with the way your eyes trail over his fitted tshirt, then down to the sweatpants that hang loosely around his waist. you're both too preoccupied staring to notice the other doing the same.

"mornin', sleepy beauty," he says with a lopsided grin.

"good morning, toji." you return his smile, your greeting a saccharine melody to his ears. oh, the things he'd do to have you all to himself.

he explains his predicament and you're more than happy to invite him inside. you both sit at your kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea and chatting about your day. the domesticity off it all leaves a pleasant taste in his mouth, which is bizarre seeing as up until a few weeks ago, he'd have found the thought down right repulsive.

but he just can't get you out of his head. you're too sweet for your own good, too young to know what you deserve in a man, and he's more than willing to show you.

he knows you're not available, but makes no attempt to stifle his growing fondness toward you. after all, he'd only ever seen your boyfriend once.

you were returning from a rare afternoon out just as he was leaving to pick up something for lunch. you looked so good in your cute little dress that he hardly even noticed your boyfriend at first.

"hey, (y/n)," toji greeted you. "who's this?"

he didn't give you a chance to speak, just pulled you into his side. "her boyfriend."

"ah," he leered, his nose crinkled. "i wasn't sure since i never see you around."

your eyes flickered between the two men somewhat nervously. toji towered over your boyfriend, a feat he took great satisfaction in.

a humorless laugh came from your left. "prefer to have her over at my place."

toji didn't respond right away, just looked down at you, taking note of your quietness. he briefly recalled the time you mentioned how much it bothered you that your boyfriend never came to visit, that you always had to make the effort.

"right.. well, you're a lucky man." he looked much more smug by then, his head falling to the side. "your girl has the best cookies around."

toji moves past both of you without waiting for a reply, roughly clapping your boyfriend on the shoulder. "see you around, (y/n)."

~~~

nearly two weeks later, toji's leaving his apartment late in the evening, as his current job can really only be taken care of during the nighttime hours. he doesn't expect to see many people in the halls, so he's surprised to find you at your apartment door.

the hood of your sweatshirt is pulled over your head, obscuring your face from his view. "(y/n)?"

you don't respond, so he takes a step toward you. it's only then he notices the way your hands are trembling, struggling with the lock. he reaches out, but when his fingers brush your arm, you jump back as if you'd been completely oblivious to his presence.

"hey-" he begins to say, but stops once he sees your face. his eyes darken and his jaw tenses, the veins in his neck becoming more prominent as a result.

your cheekbone is bright red, a small cut stretching across the center of the mark. your eyes watch him, wide and fearful, and you're all but frozen in place.

"who did this to you?"

he's struggling to keep his composure, the sight of your bruised face enough to have his heart hammering away angrily in his chest. you look away, tears forming in your eyes, and you can't bring yourself to respond.

"was it him?" he presses.

you nod, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to keep from crying. "i-it's okay, though. he didn't mean it, really, and-"

"look me in the face and try that again."

you meet his gaze, somewhat unwillingly, and whimper. "i.. i can't."

he sighs quietly, his job already forgotten for the night, and moves toward you. he remembers how you flinched away from him just moments ago. "..can i touch you?"

you nod once more and he hesitantly pulls you against his chest. it's getting harder and harder to keep your emotions in check, especially with the slow circles his hand is drawing on your back.

"i was so scared, toji," you finally admit, voice barely above a whisper.

"i know, but you're safe now. won't let 'im touch you ever again," he promises, fully intent on keeping it.

his words push you over the edge and you grab at his shirt as you begin to weep, your knees buckling beneath you. he supports your weight, rocking you back and forth. "you're okay. it's going to be okay."

after a minute or two, he finally hears you take a shaky breath and relief fills his chest at the sound. "see? just like that, baby. in and out."

you do as he says and after a few more breaths, he pulls away from you and takes your hand. "c'mon. let's get you cleaned up."

leading you into his apartment, he goes straight to the bathroom. you gasp when he grabs you by the hips and hoists you up onto the counter before searching for his first aid kit. when he pulls it down from the cabinet, he moves to stand between your legs.

grabbing you by the chin, he tilts your head to get a better look your injury. the redness is already transitioning to a darker hue and he knows it'll look even worse tomorrow.

"gonna clean the cut, okay? it might sting."

"okay," you sniffle.

he rips open an alcohol wipe, dabbing it gently against your cheekbone. when you wince in pain, he offers a quiet apology, but he's finished before long, having applied a bit of ointment as well.

"thank you," you murmur.

both of his hands find your thighs, resting on the area just above your knees. "don't thank me. not for this."

there's an edge to his voice, but you know it's not directed toward you. your hands settle on top of his own, quelling his anger for the time being.

"you know," he grunts, his gaze lingering on your cheek before it shifts toward your eyes. "i could never lay a hand on you."

his expression is much softer now than it was in the hallway and he savors the small smile that tugs at your lips. "i know, toji."

as he looks down at you, he knows he's done for. hell, he's known it for a while now. you deserve to be adored. taken care of. made to feel good... and toji is more than confident in his ability to do so.

for a fleeting moment, he considers the fact it wouldn't be hard to find out where your boyfriend lives, to make sure he never raises a hand to you again, but your gentle voice pulls him from his thoughts.

"can i stay with you tonight?" you ask meekly.

"yeah, 'course.. you can stay as long as you need."

jjk taglist: @torusmochi

[cuubism]

physical therapy part 4

--

It takes some time, but finally, Dream's hand starts to feel better when he's painting. Granted, his grip strength still needs some work, and he's had to adjust the way he holds a brush to accommodate the lingering stiffness he gets in some of his fingers, but he's finding it hard to care when a few months ago he couldn't draw a straight line without it turning into a scribble. He'd known Hob was good at his job, but it still feels like a miracle.

The only downside is that once he makes enough progress Hob will surely decide to end their sessions. And while he had said that he liked Dream, that he cared about Dream... Dream is finding it hard to feel assured of those feelings. Someone's feelings can change on a dime, and it's impossible to predict.

But finally the day does come when Hob deems him progressed enough to simply continue his exercises at home. "At this point I think you've regained enough mobility that it's just a matter of gradually increasing how much you're using your hand," he says. "You've made a ton of progress."

"Have I?" Dream is less sure. Some things are certainly easier now, like doing tasks around the house, and picking things up. Art is another matter. Though perhaps he is simply making excuses because he doesn't want to stop seeing Hob.

"Yeah, look." Hob pulls out a folder from amongst his files, and shows Dream several sketches--the ones Dream's made in session, which he's apparently kept. Dream picks up the oldest sketch, the cats he'd doodled at his first appointment. They're shaky and uneven, like something he might have drawn when he was barely four. He supposes he can't deny the progress since then. He's torn between wanting to tear the drawing up, for it's too wretched a reminder--and wanting to hold it close to his chest.

"It's not that I think there's no more room for improvement, or anything," Hob says. "I just don't think continuing these frequent sessions is going to offer more than a marginal benefit."

Dream thinks that the benefit he is receiving at this point is more in being able to look forward to seeing Hob each week, than the physical therapy itself. He needs something to look forward to. He's put Hob's objectively terrible finger painting on his fridge. It's still the only spot of color in his empty flat. He needs that.

"So," Hob continues, "I thought I'd take you out to celebrate."

That pulls Dream from his head. "You... will?"

Hob winks at him. "Promised you, didn't I?"

Yes. Dream supposes he had promised that if Dream's feelings held true Hob would act on them. Is that what he's doing? Dream's growing disappointment swiftly morphs into something else. Hope.

"I--" he swallows hard. "I. Would like that." It's still strange, to have something he wants. And to feel like it may be okay to express it.

"Perfect." Hob grins, gets up, holds out a hand.

"Now?"

"You got somewhere else to be?"

Dream never has anywhere else to be, and doubts he would go there if he did. He takes Hob's hand.

Hob takes him to a Chinese restaurant nearby, and Dream looks at him suspiciously as Hob passes him a pair of chopsticks with a cheeky grin. "Now you are just testing me."

"Yup. 'Course if you can't use chopsticks in the first place then it's moot."

Dream can use chopsticks. Could. No, can. Death would say that he should think positively.

So he takes the chopsticks.

Once their food comes, Hob, the absolute bastard, puts down his own chopsticks and picks up a fork instead. And Dream knows, somehow he just knows, that it's not because he can't use them. He's teasing Dream. Or perhaps ensuring that Dream won't compare himself if he struggles. Or both.

He should feel hurt by the teasing but... somehow he's not.

"See?" Hob says when Dream manages to eat his noodles with the chopsticks. It's... not that hard. It doesn't even hurt. Maybe Hob is better at his job than Dream even thought.

It makes him tear up. Such a silly, small thing to start crying over when he's barely cried at all, even when he'd first hurt his hand.

"Hey, it's okay," Hob soothes him, wiping away Dream's tears with his thumb. "I think the noodles are salty enough without the addition of tears, hm?"

Dream laughs, wiping at his eyes when the tears keep falling. "Good tears," he manages to say.

"I know," Hob says, and smiles at him.

Dream surprises himself by having an actually nice time. He hasn't had a nice time doing something in so long. It feels good. He doesn't want it to end.

Of course, it does end, and he finds himself lingering outside the restaurant, hesitant to go home. Particularly as he no longer has a set time when he will see Hob. He feels aimless without that, but. It is hard to ask.

"Dream..." Hob starts, likewise lingering in front of the restaurant. The lights of the signage above cast his face in shades of violet. Dream has thought him handsome before, but never so much as now.

Hob hesitates over what to say, then finally just steps over to him. "Come here."

And before Dream can decide how to react, Hob folds him into a hug.

Dream goes still on instinct. Then, gradually, relaxes into Hob's strong hold. He... can't remember the last time someone hugged him.

He lets himself tuck his face into Hob's shoulder.

"Hey," Hob says. His voice is so close to Dream's ear now. "I'm proud of you."

Dream hears himself make a tiny whimpering sound. He. He does not know how to be proud of himself. He thinks he would only be proud of himself if he could go back in time and stop himself from getting in that terrible relationship to begin with. But he does like how it sounds when Hob says it.

Hob gives him one more squeeze, then, disappointingly, releases him. "I almost forgot. I have something for you."

He digs around in his bag and comes back with a box that looks rather like art supplies of some kind. "It's modelling clay," he explains. "So you can play around and work on your hand without just doing, you know, boring exercises all the time."

Hob is too considerate of him, truly. Dream holds the box close.

"You okay to get home?" Hob asks, and Dream nods. His ex has not bothered him again, and Dream is now hopeful that he won't. Though that does not necessarily mean he doesn't want Hob to follow him home.

"Good," Hob says. Then, while Dream is still thinking about the hug and the clay and everything else, Hob leans in and kisses his cheek. "Goodnight, Dream."

Dream stands paralyzed until Hob is gone, and it's only then that he realizes he failed to set another time for them to meet. He supposes he does have Hob's office contact info. Still, it is disappointing not to have something to look forward to.

But when he gets home, and opens the box of clay, he finds a note inside. It has the name of a coffee shop, and Tuesday, 3pm?, and Hob's personal number. At first he's confused. Why wouldn't Hob simply ask him while they were together? And then he realizes that Hob must be trying to give him a chance to comfortably back out if he wants to by letting him decide in private. It makes him want to cry again. Hob truly is too considerate of him.

But he takes out his phone and types in Hob's number, and a simple reply. Yes.