#ITS DEVILISHLY GENIUS

[dormiloncito]

the thing about transformers is that they really get you with the toys

[wrrrenff]

Restless Nights In the Devildom

Obey Me: Shall We Date Mammon x F! Reader Synopsis: After a long day in the devildom you can't seem to get any sleep! So of course the only thing to do is go annoy your best friend Mammon. Thing don't turn out as expected when you get to his room...

Warnings: 18+, smut, restraints, bondage, p in v sex, kissing, marking, domination

Gif credits to the creator!

Today had really taken its toll. Three exams, breaking up a fight between Satan and Lucifer, and in the middle of cooking dinner for everyone Beel kept trying to eat my ingredients! All of it was adding up and you were dead tired. So why couldn’t you fall asleep? It’s been two and a half hours and nothing. You could cry at how frustrated you were.

You decided that if you can’t sleep you might as well go annoy your favorite demon. You don’t even bother to knock on Mammon’s door. At this point you are both so used to each other just barging in. When you opened the door you noticed a lump on the bed. As you got closer you saw the white hair you’re so familiar with. He was asleep. Perfect opportunity to fuck with him. His face does look really peaceful… Do you really want to ruin that? Hehe fuck yeah i do.

You slowly reach towards his shoulder, ready to shake the ever-living hell out of him. As soon as you make contact Mammon grabs your hand and quickly fling you onto his bed and straddles you and holds your wrists tightly against the mattress. *What the fuck just happened* you thought.

His furious eyes take a moment before realizing who is underneath him. He smirked. “Well well well. Look who we have here. Does the little human think she can sneak up on me that easily?”

You were breathing hard. This is not how you expected this to go at all. But you weren’t mad at this situation. Or the position.

“You okay princess? You’re breathing real heavy.” Mammon said with slight concern, slightly lifting his weight off your legs but still holding your wrists tight.

You liked this. You didn’t want it to stop. Instead of responding you decided to try something. Slowly but carefully, you lift your knee and press it between his legs, rubbing it back and forth slightly. Mammon moaned. Hard. So devilishly sweet.

“Oh, you want to play like that huh?” Mammon flew off of you and started digging through his dresser drawer. Did he not like it? You worried that you upset him and went too far. That is, until he turned around and you saw the rope and cuffs.

Before you even had a second to think you were being tied up to the demon’s bed frame. You pull at the restraints with no luck at getting out.

“Too tight?”

“They’re fine but…”

The demon raised a brow. He gently grabbed your chin and slowly lifted your face until you were forced to look at him. “What is it darling? Use your words.”

Damn demon. You didn’t want to admit how badly you wanted him but you conceded. “I want to touch you. Make you feel good.”

He chuckled, low and rumbly. It made you squirm. “You came to me. I make the rules. You’re lucky I didn’t use my gag.”

“Well there’s already one flaw in your plan, genius. You forgot to take my clothes off before tying me up.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem sweetheart.” Suddenly he uses his strength to rip your clothes off. It was so easy for him. Like taking a tissue out of the box.

“So wet for me already and we’ve barely even started.”

He was staring at your figure, eyes full of lust. They were hungry eyes, intimidating. You couldn’t help but shift under him, suddenly feeling self conscious. Before you had too much more time to think about it, Mammon dove in and kissed you hard. You didn’t reciprocate at first, taking a moment to register what was happening, but quickly enough you came to your senses and kissed back. Mammon place one hand on the back of your head, slightly pulling at your hair, his other hand at your breast, lightly teasing your nipple.

He started moving his lips lower. Down your neck biting and sucking hard, almost like he was trying to leave the most obvious marks he could so everyone would know you belonged to him, even if just for this one time. He is the demon of greed after all.

You were a moaning mess. You wanted to touch him. Feel the closeness between you too. It was so FRUSTRATING. It didn’t take long for your moans to turn to impatient whines.

“What’s the matter, princess?”

“I- I want to feel you” you were a panting mess.

“Not yet, baby.”

“Can’t you at least strip too? I want to see you. All of you.”

He seemed to contemplate this for a moment, stroking his chin in the most dramatic way like the idiot he is. He was drawing this out. After a minute he got close to your face and whispered “I’ll see what I can do”

He straddled you and started taking his shirt off. You’ve seen him shirtless before but this time was different. You’ve never wanted to feel up to someone more than you did right now. You try to reach for him but don’t get very far due to the cuffs.

“You’re cute” He continues stripping, your eyes watching hungrily. As he takes off his underwear you can’t help but wonder how the fuck that thing is going to fit inside of you. But you didn’t care. You want him and you want him now.

“Fuck me please! I need it now!” You were practically begging at this point. You could see Mammon wanted to tease you some more but even he was getting to his breaking point. He lines up with your entrance and slowly starts pushing in.

“F-fuuuuucking hell!”

He stops half way through. “Need a sec?”

You nod, struggling a bit to get any words out. After a moment you tell him to continue. He eventually bottoms out inside of you and you have never felt so full in you life. You Loved it, but you needed more.

“Move please!”

“As you wish my princess.”

He starts thrusting and immediately hitting all the right spots. Mammon leaned down and started lapping and sucking one breast while teasing the other with his hand. Feeling the heat between your bodies and all of the sensations he was making you feel, it was pure bliss.

“Mammon faster! Break me!”

Without any hesitation he started going faster and harder, your hips meeting his as best they could considering the restraints. The bed was creaking like crazy. Any other day you’d be worried that this much noise would get you in trouble with Lucifer but you could deal with the consequences later. Mammon moved off your breast and up to your neck, creating more love bites. You were getting close and he could tell. Mammon reached down between you and started rubbing your clit in circles, turning you into a blubbering mess. You couldn’t even form words and more. The only sounds filling the room at this point was just the sound of skin and both of your grunts and moans.

Feeling himself getting closer to the edge, Mammon angled himself a bit differently and was hitting your g-spot perfectly. Only a few more thrusts and you were cumming hard. You went to grab Mammon as you came but were stopped by your cuffs so you were just squirming as you came.

You lay there, still bound by the handcuffs and ropes as Mammon kept pounding into you. You were so sensitive. It felt great. Each thrust into you had you whimpering. He just kept hitting your g-spot. After a minute, it was like you had gained a second wind and you could feel yourself getting close again. Mammon, realizing this, started thrusting even harder into you. You could swear the bed was going to break. Soon you both came, screaming each other's names. You were in such a trance after that you didn’t even know your own name. Mammon collapsed on top of you, panting like crazy. After catching his breath and regaining some strength, Mammon released you from your restraints. You immediately grabbed onto him like a koala to a tree. He chuckled and held you close.

After a few minutes of cuddling, you finally broke the silence. “You know, I just came in here to annoy you but if the thanks I get for barging in here, I think I need to do it more often”

The demon smirked “From here on out you can expect a lot more, princess.” You both cuddled up as close as you could to each other and eventually drifted off into the deepest most refreshing sleep you’ve ever had.

[jhuzen]

could u write kaveh diluc or kaeya with an obsessive m reader? like yandere type (or just obsessive whatever u want) I love the way u write them ur my fav blog

following elysium [m.reader]

maaaaan i haven’t written anything yandere in a good while now. but i can’t say i don’t miss it. this takes me back to my obsession with yandere character arc (*coughs in yan asogi that i still obsess over in my drafts*) so this request will let me know if i’ve lost my touch. also, why pick between three when you can have all lolololll

𖦹 dark themes, yandere male reader (ranging from manipulative, to overprotective, to soft), manipulation everywhere (like a lot, i swear i’m not good at it irl or am i jkjk), obsessive themes, some mentions and allusions of death, some isolation, scare tactics, love bombing

𐂂 obsession is a lethal poison, and yet you’ve survived a gallon of doses.

Kaveh

Your sweet naïve little Kaveh was quite the adorable one, always so considerate, so willing to please and so eager to do what he can in order to satisfy you, a mere admiring client of his. A man that he knew that personally sought him out to the ends of Sumeru just to meet him and commission him. Just because for some reason, you had heard of him from the outskirts of this vast nation.

Oh truly what an honor it is.

If only he knew it took one smile from him and a small greeting from exactly just a year ago when he officially met you, that sent you spiraling into a mad obsession that longed to pursue him; if only he insisted to look inside the office you’ve kept him off of, he would have seen the altar that could rival any other archons out there; if only he had a lick of awareness in him, he would’ve seen that your devilishly charming smiles were indeed the work of something far more sinister.

Alas, he was your sweet little architect, unaware of your leering stares, gazes so predatory it could leave any prey scampering off, ready to pounce at him and just break him.

But you are a man of class, you knew your way around people’s hearts, and Kaveh’s weakness was the positive feedback he gets from his clients. He’s helping out of the goodness of his heart, after all, mora is not so much of an issue (to the point of him even incurring a debt), and he was even just as generous with you, refusing the pounds of mora that you were willing to lay at his feet (though you send him away with heaps still).

And as your gaze flitted from the blueprints of your master’s bedroom renovation to the man currently in charge of it, a small smile wormed its way to your face. Truly your esteemed genius architect is a lovely one, how lucky were you that you met him on that particular day.

“Hm… I don’t think with the way we’ve recently renovated your hallways, your bedroom pans out at all,” his bottom lip stuck out into an adorable pout, and it took every cell in your body to control the maddening urge to kiss them, to bite them until you even get a taste of him.

“Is that so?” You casually leaned over, drawing yourself nearer than normal. And heaven swallowed you whole when you got a whiff of that familiar honey scented shampoo that Kaveh often used (you’ve made a note of buying more in stock once you’ve enacted the final steps in your little plan).

However, even that lovely scent wasn’t enough to keep your attention away from the way Kaveh stiffened, from the way his grip around the parchment of your blueprint significantly tightened to the point of ripping it apart, from the way his breath hitched.

“I— A-Ah! Um! Yes—!”

From the way his voice cracked — those red eyes peered up at you — to the way those gazes of his became increasingly fonder and more frenzied, much like yours, but less subtle. Kaveh was always bad at hiding how he truly feels, and it made it easier for you to trap him in your little cage, to snip away his wings until he’s fully tied down to you.

You tilted your head, cocking an eyebrow as you put him in his place, rendering him almost speechless when he briskly turned back to the blueprint, wide-eyed and flustered. How adorable.

“Well, I trust that you know how our transactions are, my dear,” your tone was suave and smooth, practiced to perfection, and the same way with your movements that were calculated for precision, ensnaring your poor unsuspecting Kaveh. You took a lock of his hair in your hand, twirling it around as you attempted to find his averted gaze. “Go all out. Mora is not an issue.”

Kaveh’s head stuttered as he nodded, his trembling hands barely able to release the poor blueprint from his vice grip. He somehow didn’t know why, but there were recent changes about you in the few and far between times that he sees you for your personal consultation. Kaveh thought it sweet really, that you would go out of your way to contact a grand and comfortable enough transportation to take him to your home instead of making him walk a hundred miles just to do so (despite his initial insistence to do it instead).

You were the first client that has been so generous with praises and mora when it comes to your payment, and while the architect can afford to be modest about accepting your financial payment, even he couldn’t hide the metaphorical wagging of his tail should you even grace him one compliment for his efforts. Don’t get him wrong though, he knows he’s good, how else could he have graduated with honors if not?

Nevertheless, your approval was something Kaveh continuously sought, until every letter of commission you sent him suddenly had him mistaking it for a letter of something more… intimate, something that held a rather romantic connotation.

He took your kindness for something more, unknowing of your ulterior motives, blissfully unaware about the obsession that gets you high, and absolutely clueless about the fact that ten of your men — the ones that greeted him so jovially as they gave him a ride to your grand home — had their eyes on his every move on the days he would be off back home, acting as your eyes, all perfectly ready to execute someone should they harm a hair on his head.

Thoughts of you became even more intrusive the more he met with you, Kaveh found you addicting, and he even felt ashamed of the fact that he did so. You’re his client! He shouldn’t be so emotionally involved in the first place. He was there to do his job that you commissioned him for.

But a moment of clarity soon encompassed him when he realized that he has previous engagements to this. That he shouldn’t be staying the night at your home once more to work on renovating your bedroom.

“Ah… I just remembered…” Kaveh’s frown was unmistakable, and suddenly the feeling of eagerness of him meeting up with his friends at the usual tavern was replaced with blatant hesitance at the thought of leaving you. But he quickly shook it off, turning back to you, “Hey… I hope you don’t mind if I can postpone our work for now…”

Where did you get that wine?

Your gaze lifted from the swirling burgundy in your glass, “Oh? How come? Need some inspiration?”

“I just remembered I promised to meet with my friends tonight. It’s only once a month.”

Your lips almost turned down into a disdainful scowl but opted for a small, reserved disappointed frown, “Ah. I see. How disappointing that is,” you murmured, but it was enough for Kaveh to hear. Deceitfully disheartened, like practiced and the way Kaveh’s eyebrows furrowed in concern was enough of a reaction.

“It wouldn’t be for too long though! I’ll be back tomorrow!” The hesitation crept up on him and it showed in the tone of his voice. Desperation soon followed when his body turned to face yours, a sign of vulnerability and submission in this situation. “It’s not… it’s not as if I’m leaving or anything.”

You heaved a sigh, “But that would be too much on you, making you come all the way back and even after spending some time with your friends too.” You can only thank the lucky stars that you were a son of a theatre actor from Fontaine, it sure came in handy.

“No, I can definitely make it! You’re my best client, I can’t afford to—”

Kaveh’s frantic saving was quickly interrupted when you decided to go in for the kill, “Like I said, I don’t wish to run you ragged… and my family will come and visit soon.” You snapped your fingers, looking at Kaveh with feigned curiosity, “Ah, yes. Might you know any other capable architects? Surely I can’t expect the same work like yours, but someone who would not disappoint would be enough.”

His red eyes immediately went wide, completely baffled at your suggestion. You were willing to replace him? Just like that?

“I…” Kaveh looked down, suddenly meek. “I don’t know anyone who can do that much,” he muttered despite knowing otherwise. He was kind to his fellow architects, but surely he can afford to be selfish about you just this once?

He failed to see the way your eyes shone with satisfaction, contrasting you disheartened tone, “Hm… pity that is…”

Well. Missing one night wouldn’t hurt, right?

Kaveh looked back up at you, “I… I suppose I can afford to just show up next time. We do these hangouts all the time anyway,” his words completely contrasted his claim of scarce meets earlier, but it was more than enough for you to know how quickly he gave in. “Ah, whatever. I’m sure those guys can handle themselves.”

“Are you certain?” You asked, tilting his head up with a hand on his chin, almost getting lost into those ruby reds of his. “I’d hate for you to miss such an important engagement.”

And before he knew it, he willingly embraced the shadows, engulfing every part of him, leaving none untouched. It swallowed him whole, like a limitless void, with no one left to even save him, forgetting anyone else but you and only you.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind staying with you.”

You tapped the rim of your glass on his lip, pouring that familiar wine in the small gap of his lips that you’ve graced him on the many nights he would stay to work on your home renovations. You watched with pure delight as Kaveh’s eyes grew hazy and unfocused — left with nothing but with the manipulated admiration for you.

“Good. Let’s enjoy the night, shall we?”

𐂂

Kaeya

The infamous Cavalry Captain has no one to blame but himself, really. Even as your superior, he knew no bounds when it comes to reserving himself. He always flaunted himself at you, like a fashionable bird that that preened its wings on the daily just to show off. He was flashy, mouthy, and unbearably attractive.

Being placed under him was hell for all the different reasons. You were constantly in his presence — and you had to shoulder the patience of the kindest archon in existence to resist anything remotely impulsive. You had to be near him in proximity, always around him, accompanying him from the most mundane errands to the most hectic missions.

And while Captain Kaeya was he shining beacon between you and him, you were the dark shadow that walked behind him. It wasn’t your fault, he asked you so himself.

“This guy’s going to shadow me, hope you have no objections to that, Acting Grandmaster,” was what you heard on that one fateful day, before finding your pristine uniform getting remotely crinkled as he dragged you away without breaking a sweat.

Since that day, no person in Monstadt can claim that they’ve seen Kaeya without you, or you without him. It was almost like fate, except it was a fate that forged a bond from the depths of abyss — a bond that embodied nothing but a push and pull relationship, the distance and proximity, the obsession and submission.

You had to watch him put himself out there, when you can just as easily drag that information from someone if you asked with a blade on their throat; that usually gets people talking. But he dismissed you easily, and let you stew in the cesspool of madness that his actions slowly created.

And you were none the wiser, you cleaned up the messes he made, you made sure to silence the people once they came into their senses that they’ve been bested by yet again the sniveling calvary captain of the order.

All of his commands, you obeyed without complaint.

And oddly enough, it brought you a sense of comfort. That he trusts you this much, that he’s willing to let you go rampant in exchange for his safety — one that you never failed on doing. All of it, to keep him safe.

Until recently, you found it inconvenient to let him off without a leash. Seeing him come home from an excursion with scratches that decorated his poor body — adding further into those battle scars that you’ve once had the displeasure of seeing when he asked you to aid him into wrapping himself with a handful of bandages — and it wasn’t the greatest sight. You fussed over him like a mother hen, never once letting him out of your sight.

You were rewarded with a grateful side-hug from the captain, and it was enough to fuel your mission in protecting him.

“Ah! Captain! Should I accompany you today?” You asked as you approached him with a blinding grin — in fact so blinding, he had to squint his one good eye. For a shadow, you sure are bright. Perhaps Kaeya was mistaken when he said you were going to be his behind-the-scenes guy.

Kaeya found you adorable, in all honesty. You had an exuberant energy within you that went unparalleled, and on days that he personally needed someone to pick him up when everything weighed down on him, it seemed like you almost had a sixth sense for it and was almost always by his side. Not that he minded — he was grateful above all else. And on days when the drunkard bard or Rosaria weren’t around to keep him company, he trusts that you have some reserved liquor in your home so he can drink away his problems and still be fine in his sleep.

If only he knew how hard you stared at him, obsessively looking him over while you slowly drowned in your fantasies — one of which him finally being chained to you, devoted and stuck waiting at home while you defend his honor without him having to harm himself in the process.

“There you are, missed me already?” He asked with a cheeky grin.

You did. You couldn’t sleep a wink, knowing that you weren’t around to protect him.

You scratched your head and laughed, “Aw, don’t be so mean captain. I only care about your wellbeing!”

“Hm~? How sweet… sure wouldn’t hurt to have you around every now and then.”

You have been. You prowled around his remote home, kicking stones and staring longingly in the window, ready to pounce at anyone who seemed vaguely threatening.

Kaeya thought how endearing you might be if you were to be his, but with the mission he carries on his back, he wonders if it’s even worth it having you, only to betray you in the end. He wonders if you can betray your own homeland for him.

You would, without question. You will lay a hundred corpses of the Order’s knights at his feet should he ask.

“Don’t tease me so much, captain,” your pout was enough to lift his spirits from that asinine thought. “Now, where are you going? I’ll go prepare my things.”

“Just heading up to Dragonspine to meet with the chief investigator. It shouldn’t be too hard, so you can just stay here and enjoy a bit of downtime, yeah? Go bother my brother if you want, you have my full permission.”

You frowned and Kaeya suddenly felt a chill crawl through his spine. You never did expressed such a disappointment even on the most difficult situations, and it suddenly feels like he made a mistake in refusing you. Perhaps it was because you towered over him so easily, perhaps it was because you could catch him without even trying that Kaeya suddenly felt so small in comparison to you.

The tension lasted for a good minute, silence engulfed the both of you and Kaeya has never felt so uncomfortable in his own skin. Should he have taken his answer back? But really, there was no need for you to escort him in the first place.

You then broke the silence with a quiet, dispirited sigh.

“Okay, but please keep safe, alright?” You patted the captain’s cheeks, sending him a small smile before heading off.

Kaeya didn’t like the way the guilt gnawed in his chest.

And while you also didn’t like an act of betrayal, you found it necessary at times — times when lessons had to be taught. The Acting Grandmaster said so herself, that experience is the best teacher.

Kaeya trudged through the coldness of Dragonspine, completely hating the fact that he had no company now. Maybe he should’ve just agreed to your proposition, and you looked so sad too! Like a kicked puppy that was told to sleep outside in the cold night. He couldn’t bear the thought of you looking so sad — you were his partner, of course you should’ve come!

Alas, the feelings of being attached to someone burdened him so, and while he sought your brightest and warmest of smiles, he couldn’t muster the courage to see it fall on the day that he fulfills what he knows would be his inevitable fate in the long run.

However all his rumination came into a halt the moment he heard a roar that thundered quite literally just beside him.

Kaeya had little time to think the moment the beast emerged from the towering trees of the mountains, his head blanking as he watched it lunge towards him with great speed. His hand that went up to the hilt of his sword suddenly froze the very moment he realized he was a little too late.

Closing his eye shut, he braced for the impact until suddenly, the beast roared and he could hear the familiar sickening sound of a blade piercing through the flesh.

Mere seconds were all it took for him to regain his breathing, his ears ringing as the adrenaline pumped through his veins. He now wonders if he really should’ve taken you up on your offer on escorting him in the first place, sure would’ve eased the guilt he felt inside and maybe he wouldn’t have to space out in the middle of his trail.

“Captain! Are you okay?!”

His eye flew open, seeing your angelic face that held nothing but pure concern for him. He glanced back at the slain beast and back to you, pupils dilated — you were here. Here. And you protected him.

He stayed still, watching in bated breath as you dropped your bloodied greatsword that stained the thick coat of snow. You smiled a little, brushing away a few strands of hair from his face, “There’s my captain. Are you alright? Did it hurt you?”

“Y…You’re here…?”

You blinked before laughing, bashful and what Kaeya can consider as remotely adorable in any other day, “Ah… yeah. I know you said I can’t come… but I can’t help it! What if you were in trouble and I wasn’t there to protect you? So I came and good thing I did!”

Kaeya’s lips trembled, before lunging in to hug you tight, almost sending you tumbling into the snow. You quickly returned the gesture, wrapping your arms around him tight. You patted his back, rubbing circles to soothe your poor little captain.

“There, there. From now on, let’s stick together, okay?”

The captain nodded into your shoulder, looking up to look at the unmoving beast that laid in the snow.

He does wonder though… since when were wild beasts in this mountain leashed?

𐂂

Diluc

To the citizens of Mondstadt, their uncrowned king remains as cold and as untouchable as he can be. He rarely interacted with anyone, and was almost always either cooped up in his manor, or out in other nations to further propagate his empirical business in the wine industry. He was always on the move, and people admired him for that.

And you were willing to bet your entire life that their admiration would grow tenfold when they realized that Diluc was the unsung Darknight Hero that terrorized every monsters that hoped to wreak havoc in the lives of the citizens.

Alas, the situation remains as it were, with him completely aloof to the people, leaving either a terrifying impression, or one that could leave someone seething at his unwelcoming tendencies.

But you would be remiss to blindly agree to that. In fact, you vehemently denied those claims as you remained by his side, like a loyal watchdog for him to command as he so pleases.

He was your savior first before your now superior. Diluc was your beacon of hope on the very day he rescued you from the cold rain, ostracized from your nation that you once loved and now left with a gaping void on your chest. You could still remember the feeling of that cold rain while you trudged within the Dawn Winery’s vicinity, when suddenly the rain stopped pelting harshly on you as a pair of shoes entered your field of vision.

You could still remember his words echo within your ears.

“You’re going to get sick. Come inside and let the rain pass at least.”

The rest was history after that, and now you sat as the elusive and capable butler of the famed prolific young man of the Ragnvindr clan. Though in fairness, you weren’t particularly elusive, and Adelinde can attest to that.

She has never seen someone handle their Master Diluc so delicately. She could sing her praises to you endlessly, with your attentive nature, and you willingness to serve Diluc without even an ounce of hesitation. You’ve certainly earned your keep in their eyes, and even the pyro vision wielder can see your dedication towards him.

There was always something with the way you carried yourself the moment you started working under the Ragnvindr house, you first started off as a mere novice in caring for the house, until you rapidly climbed up the ranks as Diluc’s personal attendant, aiding him in his home as well as his monthly international trips to ensure his safety.

Really, it wasn’t much to be praised for. You were only doing your job, and it’s a job that you found yourself intensely passionate for. To be with Diluc was an honor, to serve the man that saved you from your untimely demise, returning his actions with so much more than what was on offer.

Your service was something that toed between your gratefulness and a borderline obsession.

You gave what you can and Diluc was nothing but completely enamored with you, from your lofty smiles that felt like heaven, to your assisting hands that traced against his shoulders on mornings where you helped him get dressed for the day. All of it was slowly drawing him in. You were perfect, too perfect in fact, and it haunted poor Diluc that knew nothing but pain and betrayal.

“Master Diluc, I believe there is merit to getting some sleep after working so hard,” your smile was light and airy, and it was already a breath of fresh air from the contrasting suffocating environment that was filled to the brim with mindless drunks.

Diluc made a quiet noise of agreement (his mouth barely had the strength to move after talking to so many patrons of his), yet his feet begged to differ as it led him up to his office without skipping a beat.

You folded his coat in your arms and trailed after him, “So then why am I seeing you opening the door to what I believe is not your bedroom door?” You inquire with a croon, lovingly watching the way his hand hesitated to find the doorknob. It was a sign that he heeded your little advice and your little heart that was filled to the brim with love for your master couldn’t help but swell with pride and increase in rate, almost spilling over.

“I have… some reports to attend to. If I can finish it tonight, it would be less burden on me tomorrow,” Diluc reasoned, but it was clear that he was slowly caving into your whims, just the way you like it.

He was inexplicably weak towards you for some reason — something not a lot of people could achieve despite working for him or with him for a good while.

“Would it be wise to tend to them while completely exhausted?”

Once again, you’ve put him in a difficult place. You’re a cunning man, unfortunately for him, able to wriggle in some moments of logic into his brain that prioritized his duties over his own wellbeing. And for some reason, concerning as it is, his brain feels intoxicated as it sways to your will, completely subservient and willing to abide despite the fact that you were his servant and he was the commanding authority in your relationship.

Diluc feels it sometimes — the unsettling feeling of being squeezed tight, like a python coiling around his body as it suffocated him with love and care. His movements are restricted and he was unable to break free from that tightening grasp.

It was almost hard to breathe, but at the same time there was sick sense of comfort that was lodged into the back of his mind. He liked it. It was the affection that he was deprived of, leaving him writhing in the loneliness that he was forced to soldier through. And when you came to him on that one night, you gave him what he needed but not asked for.

You made him feel like he’s worth something, and it made him want to vie for a life worth something as well. It was a feeling that he could get high off of, and you were willing donor to whatever it was that he lacked.

And before he knew it, he sat at his tub comfortably, completely bare and vulnerable while you continued to wash his hair with such gentle hands. Never has he known a touch so kind like yours and he was ready to get lost within it.

“Feeling better?” Your voice coos at his ear, sickeningly sweet and yet he submits himself into it with reckless abandon. Your hands moved from his hair, leaving the most addicting touches as you traced your fingertips from the nape of his neck right to his shoulders that were filled with tension.

“Much,” Diluc muttered, head turning up as his half-lidded eyes met yours, still filled with that irresistible fondness that he grew to be addictive of. “Thank you, [Name].”

You smiled, succinct yet saccharine while your hands worked away the kinks and knots away from your master’s incredibly tensed muscles.

For him, you would give your all, even if it meant to face death. You would throw away anything else because a world without your endearing master is a world not worth living for. You will serve him until the world falls to your feet, and if given the chance, you will do what you can to protect him even beyond your useless life that long passed.

He was your savior and now you were a devout believer — one that worships his master with little to no hesitation. You can beat any other nun or the beloved deacon of that measly church with how much love and devotion you were willing to show him. Hell, even if you can’t, if it’s what Diluc wants, you would do well with dying as you try and make the impossible completely possible just for him.

Your love through subservience was quick to snuff out the wings your master once embodied to soar freely. He slowly caved into you, in need and constantly hungry for more, unaware of his growing dependence on your presence.

“It’s no problem, my lord. I will serve and tail you until the ends of this world. And even in my death, I am yours to command and to have.”

Diluc mirrored your smile, albeit much more tired than your sweet one.

He was the willing prey and you were the loving predator.

The unmistakably perfect match.

[finkinthisfrew]

TEACHER'S PET (Pt.3)

cw: 18+ (sorry, posting this in a rush, i'll update the cw later)

You step into the large dim pub, the air cloudy with smoke. Or is it steam? It’s definitely steam, you decide as you shove your ID back into your pocket with one hand, and rip your scarf off with the other. The room is long, a double-sided bar running down the centre. You can see the room open up into a sunken area in the distance. Amidst the countless bodies, packed like sardines in a tin, you can tell the bar is stuck in the 70s, crammed with colorful lights, decor and liquor, chipping paint peeking through the few remaining bare spots on the walls. You scan the room, taking everything in as you pull off all your layers, exposing your less than modest outfit underneath. 

After experiencing the high of your Professor commenting on your clothing, all you wanted was more- like a drug, you were desperate for your next hit, deciding on the shortest, tightest black dress you could find in your closet with a pair of black thigh high boots. You’d admired yourself in the mirror earlier, the way your figure shone through the thin material of your dress, giddy at the thought of your teacher seeing you in something so inappropriate for school.

“I’m going to find the girls- see you guys after the show,” Bex’s sister says from behind you as she tears off her coat, then waves excitedly at someone in the distance. 

“See ya!” Bex chimes excitedly. “The stage is this way, I think,” she says as she grabs your hand and drags you towards the back, not even looking twice at her sister. 

“Bex, wait-“ you stop Bex before offering her a look of pleading. “I’m gonna need to get a lot drunker than this before I can consider watching my Professor sing…” Bex rolls her eyes at you, but smiles as she lets you tug her towards the bar. Your half of the bottle of wine you’d shared with Bex back at her apartment hadn’t done much for you since you’d drank it an hour ago, and you were keen to rid yourself of your shaking hands and tense body- the knowledge of your Professor being somewhere in the vicinity all too much for you to handle. 

You immediately order two tequila shots and two tequila sodas for the both of you as you pull out your wallet, the bar tender obviously eyeing up Bex, who’s distracted where she stands behind you at the crowded bar.

“Will you make mine a double, please?” you whisper loudly to the bartender as Bex scans the bar, searching to see if any of your other classmates are here. When the bartender finally passes you your drinks, you hand Bex her shot and drink, cheersing her with a smile, and she grins back at you, just as eager to see your sinfully-sexy Professor on stage as you are. At least, so she claims- you don’t think it’s possible for anyone to experience the level of desire you feel for him...

You quickly down your shots, wincing in tandem at the burning sensation as you bite down on your lime wedges. 

“God that’s rank- alright, Professor time,” she smiles devilishly at you before dragging you to the back of the bar and down into the sunken pit surrounding the stage. You look up to see the ceiling much higher in this area, then notice the beautiful wooden balcony wrapping around the back half of the room. This bar is so charming- it reminds you of something you’d seen in a film, the cloudy air and quirky layout so uncommon for bars these days.

You see Bex try to weave her way into the crowd that’s already built up around the stage, but no one seems to be budging. You try again from another angle, but the crowd is already too packed- mostly with eager girls bouncing on their toes in anticipation, you notice.

“What the fuck! How are we supposed to see the show from back here?” Bex curses angrily in frustration, looking around hopelessly.

“Well, we could try the balcony?” You suggest. It seems only a few people had congregated up there, most people too drunk or oblivious to notice its existence, apparently.

“You genius,” Bex says as she grins at you, then takes your hand in hers before turning back towards the stairs. You both begin to make your way over when you eye your drink- you’ve already downed half of it.

“Hey Bex, we might as well grab another shot before we head up, don’t you think?” You say with a giggle as you pass the bar, the first shot already starting to work its magic, loosening you up a little.

“Oh well if you insist,” Bex says as she dramatically rolls her eyes in mock-annoyance, then grins at you excitedly as she grabs her wallet.

Leaning against the bar as Bex pays, you scan the room properly for the first time. You don’t see him anywhere by the bar, nor do you see him anywhere in the crowd behind you when you crane your neck over your shoulder, trying your best to look inconspicuous as you hear Bex flirt with the bartender. You sigh in defeat as you take one last scan of the now jam-packed audience, your Professor no where to be found and turn back to see Bex handing you your shot. You laugh together as your cheers, tapping your glass on the bar before raising it to your lips. Your eyes glance over to a figure weaving through the crowd holding something red, and just as you’re about to tip your glass back, your eyes lock onto Professor Healy’s. He’s mid laugh- something his band mate behind him must have just said. He looks so beautiful when he laughs, you realize. You’ve never seen him laugh before- not truly. He’s breathtaking. But before you can savor it properly, his face turns, his dark eyes now boring into yours. You want to smile at him, but you can’t- you’re too captivated by him, his eye contact too powerful. He shakes his head at you slowly as he continues approaching you and you take this opportunity to ignore his look of disapproval and down your shot. 

You turn your gaze back to Bex, but she’s distracted as the bartender hands her his phone. She giggles as she enters her phone number, completely oblivious to the fact that her Professor was only a few feet away from you both now.

You can feel his eyes on you as he gets closer, pulling at yours, and eventually you lose the battle of tug of war just as he reaches you. He doesn’t slow his speed but weaves himself between you and the cluster of people standing around you right as you look up at him, hanging his head down to look at you as he passes. You almost flinch from the intensity of his eyes, the thrill of his lips only a few inches from yours, your skin tingling as you feel the warmth of his breath wash over your face, almost in slow motion. 

Before you can think of anything to say, he’s gone. You stand, dazed as you watch the back of his head move through the crowd and towards the stage- the stage!

“Bex, they’re going on, we gotta go!” You say with unnecessary urgency in your voice as you turn to find her giggling up at the bartender who’s practically purring at her now.

“I’ll come find you in a minute,” she says, waving you off lazily, “you go ahead.”

You roll your eyes, then dash over the stairs without a second-glance, the crowd already cheering as the band begins to assemble on stage. You reach the top of the stairs, happy to see only a handful of people hanging out up here with loads of free balcony space. You walk up to the edge, leaning over the banister and finally take in the sight of your Professor on stage. You hadn’t even noticed what he was wearing when you first saw him, the outfit practically as slutty as yours in comparison to what he wore at school.

His hair is a mop of dark curls again, hanging over his face as he plugs his red guitar into a nearby amp. You’re taken aback by his fit body, the thin black tank top tight against his torso, exposing his thick, muscled arms. Your eyes travel over every ripple, every muscle, every vein, every tattoo, drinking him in at last- you’re practically drunk by the time your eyes reach his chest, a flutter of pleasure down below when you spot the large chest tattoo peeking out from behind his ribbed-top. His dark washed-out jeans are torn in a few places, and his silver earring glints in the stage lights as people continue to cheer loudly below him. He finally looks out into the crowd, offering them a smug half-smile, and they only cheer louder at his acknowledgement.

“Who’s ready for a bit of fun?” He says into the mic, he says cheekily. Before he’s even finished his sentence, the bands starts to play, and the show begins.

There’s no other way to describe him than utterly captivating. He sings with such passion and grit, you feel your insides tumbling. You never could have imagined what a great dancer he was, every lyric punctuated with a move so effortless, you can’t help but wonder how it would translate in the bedroom… 

Four songs later, you feel Bex slide next to you, her smile apologetic as the cheers from the crowd die down. You nudge her with your shoulder and wiggle your eyebrows at her teasingly and she rolls her eyes at you with a smile she can’t rid herself of. You’re happy for your new friend, excited for the inevitable debrief you’d be receiving about the bartender once the show was over. The sound of your Professors voice catches your attention, and you both turn to watch him as he addresses the crowd.

“How’s it going out there, are you all having a good time?” He asks the audience. You and Bex cheer loudly with the crowd, and you can see your Professor smile in response. It makes your knees weak.

“Good, because I’m about to ruin it,” he says with a cheeky grin, but the audience only screams louder. “This next song is a bit naughty-“ he says darkly, his voice distracted as he turns to check if the band is ready to begin, then turns back to the mic, his eyes flicking up to meet yours perfectly as he says in a lust-soaked voice, “This song is about forbidden desire.”

Your heart stutters as you look back at your Professor in shock. He turns back to face the band as someone triggers a moody sounding track to start, but you don’t even notice. His eyes found you immediately- had he known where you were standing this whole time? Did he mean to look at you? You were smart enough to know that wasn’t likely, but something inside you suspected you were wrong…

You watch as your Professor lights a cigarette on stage, his cheeks hollowing in the stage lights, smoke trailing out his pink lips as he sings wistfully. You don’t catch all the lyrics, but his words hit you anyways, the sound of them portraying the very hopelessness that’d grown to feel so familiar to you this week. 

The song builds, and he begins to belt, the emotion raw as it hits you where you lean over the railing. The song builds even more as he begins to wrap the chord of his microphone around his hand, its peak moments away when his eyes find yours once again. You watch in slow motion as his lips part, dark hooded eyes looking up at you hungrily as he drops to his knees, then squeezes his eyes shut as he belts loudly:

“I don’t wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your neck!”

Your knees wobble under you and you steady yourself with jello-like arms. You suddenly remember you need to breathe, taking in several steadying breaths as you watch your Professor get back on his feet, wandering over to one side of the stage to break some more hearts. You’re glad he’s looking elsewhere again, grateful he can’t see the physical toll that stunt had taken on you. If his performance hadn’t already turned you on, this definitely did the trick, the wetness between your legs almost as demanding of your attention as your teacher on stage…

—

You’re hot and sticky, the delicate fabric of your dress stuck to your skin as you sway your hips, dancing in the centre of the pit. You feel free as you move to the beat, your movements flowy and sensual as you run your hands over your body.

You’d looked for him after the show, a little too obviously, but you could care less in the moment. Eventually you gave up, realizing he was probably in some greenroom, or potentially even went home, knowing he likely had quizzes to grade or something equally as contrasting to the dingy, drug-tinged room he’d just played in. When you couldn’t find him, you and Bex shoved your way into the thinned out crowd in the centre of the dance floor where a dance party had formed around the DJ now on stage.

You grin as Bex catches your eye with a smile, dancing against a scruffy young man who’d had his eyes on her all night, now cooing softly in her ear as he grinds himself into her ass. You can’t help but imagine yourself in the same scenario, wondering how it would feel to dance so intimately with your Professor, to feel him grind against your back, sweaty hands against your sweaty body, whispering deliciously devious words in your ear… You close your eyes, running your hands slowly over your breasts, your nipples hardening at their touch as you sway your hips, tossing your head back and letting your hair swish against your back to the beat of the music. You like imagining him watching you now, practically feeling his eyes brush against your skin, their gaze caressing the curve of your hip like a calloused hand. 

You slowly open your eyes, the feeling of being watched not dissipating along with your daydream. You glance in the direction of the bar, feeling pulled to look. Your hips don’t stop as you turn, your hands now running over your stomach just as you see him.

There his is. Leaning against the bar, drink in hand, staring at you. There’s a girl in front of him, talking to him, his patient bandmate stood next to him generously paying attention to her and nodding his head politely as she bats her eyelashes and gestures excessively at your Professor in an effort to gain his attention. But she doesn’t have his attention. Because you have his attention. He’s watching as you dance to the beat of the music, the alcohol in your system the only thing keeping you from blushing. No, this time you’re not embarrassed. You don’t even feel bashful. In fact, you feel quite the opposite- you’re feeling bold. Something about him wakes you up inside, ideas you’d never even considered wafting through your mind as you see him lean into his friends ear, whispering something before returning his gaze to you. His tall friend gestures an offer to smoke to the girl bouncing on her heels, and she agrees excitedly, doing a poor job of hiding her disappointment when she notices your Professor has no intention to follow. 

You continue to dance, almost performing for him now as you see him cross his arms, watching you darkly. You make a big show of moving your hips, tossing your hair as you turn, showing off the low cut back of your dress, feeling his eyes trace the line of your spine as you savor the shiver it sends through your core. Bex catches your eye and the sight of her dancing partners hands wrapped around her waist breaks something inside you- you weren’t going to wait any longer for what you wanted.

“I’m gonna go grab another drink, do you want one?” You yell into Bex’s ear. She shakes her head, turning her head to smile up at the man who’s lips lean closer and closer towards hers. You turn on your heel, sauntering over towards the bar, avoiding your teachers blatant stare as you walk. You stride right up to him, then side step him, making sure to lean seductively as you ask the bartender for another tequila soda, subtly pressing your breasts together as you watch him stutter before turning to make your drink.

“It seems you didn’t take my advice,” you hear him say beside you.

“Sorry?” You say, turning to face him.

He says nothing for a moment, eyes traveling up and down your body leisurely as he takes a swig from his bottle, his back still leaning casually against the bar. 

“That dress isn’t very modest,” he says darkly, eyes finally landing on yours, burning your soul from within. He licks the drop of beer left behind from his bottle, his bottom lip glistening in the dim red light of the bar.

“I wore black this time, like you suggested. I thought you’d like that,” you challenge sultrily from under hazy eyes as you take your drink from the bartender who’s practically drooling at you, but instead of asking for money, he stays standing there, mouth hanging open slightly as he stares at your chest. Your Professor’s eyes darken slightly, hanging onto yours tightly as he turns, then finally drags his gaze away from you to hand the bartender a few bills, clearly keen on having him leave you alone. 

“And you thought showing your ass off to half the town would be a good idea?” Your Professor mumbles to you as he shoves his wallet back in his pocket, glaring at the bartender threateningly, causing him to scuttle away to help his next customer. You can’t help but admire the tattoos on his muscled arms, consciously reminding yourself not to reach your curious fingertips out to explore their peaks and valleys, the bareness of them feeling more scandalous than anything you could have worn. His eyes finally turn to yours, and you shrug casually.

“You seemed to like it the last time I did, considering you stared at it long enough to memorize it’s condition,” you say, referencing your last class, doing a poor job of hiding the smugness that teases at your lips as you take a generous sip of your drink to cover them. A light flickers behind his eyes, but his face remains stoic- unimpressed.

He leans towards you and your heart begins to pound rapidly, his closeness stealing your breath from you.

“Tread lightly, Miss Thompson. Tread lightly,” he says in a low voice, his lips ghosting the curve of your ear. A shiver passes through you as you close your eyes, willing the moment to last longer. But it passes, and you feel hollow again as he leans back against the bar, his eyes scanning the room ahead of him as he sips his beer once more.

But a bit of the thrill lingers within you, and slowly, your sadness is replaced with excitement as you realize: he’s still here. He could have walked away- he should have walked away, but he didn’t. You smile to yourself and he glances back at you, raising an eyebrow in question at your smile.

“I’m sorry, Professor,” you say softly, the word like a treat on your lips as you gloat.

“Why do you have to say it like that?” He says, the hint of a groan rumbling in his throat as he speaks. His eyelids hang low, heavy like his voice as his brow furrows slightly, his lips parted as he glances from your eyes down to your lips.

“Like what?” You ask breathlessly, your heart pounding out of your chest.

“Like it turns you on,” he says, his eyes lingering a moment longer before looking back up at you, something forbidden in his gaze.

You feel yourself grow wetter, visibly shivering this time as your grip the edge of the bar. You bite your lip in thought, holding back the words you desperately want to say to him. It must be the alcohol, otherwise you’d never be so brazen with an authority figure like him, the words falling from your mouth only a moment later.

“Because it does,” you say, taking a big sip of your drink.

He stands silently looking at you, eyes traveling up and down your body, emitting a soft sigh before shaking his head lightly. 

“You’re going to get me in big trouble one day, aren’t you…” he says very quietly, almost to himself.

You smile at him, pride radiating corner to corner from your mouth before taking another healthy drink from your glass.

“You should slow down with those, Hazel,” he says quietly, the use of your first name shaking you slightly. But what shocks you the most is the tone in his voice, new to you, briefly pulling you out of your drunken haze of lust. It takes you a moment to recognize it, the hint of softness, with a touch of warmth and a tinge of fear. It was… concern. It felt caring. It was the closest thing you’d felt to his touch since the day he’d brushed against you in the doorway.

“And why would I do that?” You ask stubbornly.

“Because you’re going to get yourself in trouble,” he answers softly.

“Don’t you mean, us, Professor?” You say, fluttering your eyelashes at him gently.

He shakes his head, choosing to ignore you this time as he drains the rest of his bottle.

“I think I’d like detention with you, Professor,” you purr.

You jump as he slams his empty bottle down on the counter with a loud bang, startled by the jarring noise.

“Outside. Now,” he commands. You don���t question him, following closely behind as he weaves his way through the crowd, grabbing his coat from one of the hooks on the wall as he dips out the front door, striding quickly past his friend and the girl from earlier who’s eyes brightened and dimmed as he stormed past. You follow him into the cold of the night, the cool air a welcome sensation on your burning skin. You feel him grab your wrist as he pulls you around the corner into the alley beside the bar, then shoves you against the brick wall, pressing forehead against yours for a few breaths. You freeze. 

Eventually, he pulls away, and you look up at him helplessly, but his eyes are closed, his face hanging low as he pants in frustration, his hands planted on the wall behind you on either side of your head. You’re trapped between him and the cold coarse wall, your forehead burning where his had made contact mere seconds ago. You can feel the heat from his body radiating towards you, his scent filling your nose with the smell of cigarettes, beer, chalk, and something warm and spicy, like hot cider and cloves. Your eyes drop down to his open mouth, puffing hot air in little clouds, and you reach your hand up without thinking, feeling the curve of his jaw under your fingers. His lower lip hangs there, begging to be bitten, and you lose all inhibition. You reach up, taking it between your teeth, sucking on his gently, the taste of him like ecstasy as he stands there frozen, letting you drag your teeth gently down his lip. You feel him shudder underneath you from your touch, his brow creasing even deeper, an expression of pain as he lets out a shaky breath. Once you finally release his lip, you pause and watch as he bites his lip, sucking the skin yours had just tasted. He leans in closer to you, his cheek against your temple as he says in a very low, very measured voice:

“Four years from now, you’re going to walk across the stage at convocation, collect your parchment, and shake my hand. Then, the moment you step off that stage, I’m going to tear that graduation gown off of you, and fuck you senseless,” he breathes into your ear. You can’t help but arch your back at his words. You can feel yourself dripping down the inside of your thigh as he speaks. He leans in even closer, his lips now touching your ear, but just barely. “Until then, your delicate little hand will have to take my place when you think of me, leaving yourself unsatisfied, night after night, all alone in your little bed.”

He pulls back, just enough to look down at you, his dark eyes burrowing into yours as his lips hover over yours.

“Is that a homework assignment, Professor?” You say breathlessly, your chest heaving with passion as you look back and forth between his eyes. You begin to shiver from the cold, but you don’t even notice, his words having stoked the blazing fire within you. But he notices. He sighs quietly to himself, then pulls you from the wall. His hands leaving burns on your arms where they touched your skin, then, he quietly drapes his coat around your shoulders, looking down at the buttons as he does them up one by one. The gesture is sweet, his fingers patiently working away as you watch him, mesmerized by his beautiful face which has softened slightly. When his fingers finally finish, his eyes lift to meet yours with a look you can’t quite decipher. A moment of silence passes and his face returns to the one you’re most familiar with in class, stoic and stern, and he finally speaks.

“I think it’s time you went home. I’ll see you Monday, in class. Good evening, Miss Thompson,” he says formally as he takes a step back, and suddenly he’s gone. You collapse against the wall behind you, dazed by the interaction. You almost can’t believe it, the coat wrapped around you the only thing keeping you from convincing yourself you hadn’t dreamt it all.

part 4

[charincharge]

I Don't Want To Wait, seventy

rowaelin high school bff au masterlist

AN: Chapter seven-fucking-zero. Let the rain fall down. Holy shit. Here we go.

The four-flight descent from the master suite down to the kitchen was torturous. She was annoyingly in tune with Rowan. She could feel the slightest flick of his eyes, every time he opened his mouth and then shut it tight again, the change in his gait every time he slowed his pace to walk more in time with her — but all it did was twist the rusty knife in her side, spreading her pain with each shallow breath.

As they rounded the corner of the last flight, Rowan’s hand swung so that it brushed against her knuckles, and she couldn’t help but snatch her hand away, resting in front of her waist and far, far, far from his possible grasp. Gods, she was not going to be able to keep it together during this dinner. And it was only their second day of vacation. And her friends weren’t idiots. They’d surely notice something was amiss.

She was wondering how to best keep them in the dark about her current subject of ire when Rowan slid into the seat between Chaol and Dorian at the far end of the table. His eyes flashed with such hurt that it re-sparked the bolt of anger swirling inside her. Where did he get off pretending like he was the hurt party between the two of them?

“Uh ohhhh…” Dorian chuckled as his bright eyes flicked between both ends of the table. “Mom and dad are fighting.”

Everyone around them laughed, but Aelin couldn’t even muster up a smile, and Rowan’s brow furrowed further.

“We’re fine,” Aelin forced herself to say, but she was so not fine. She barely enjoyed the multi-course meal that her friends had spent so long preparing. Based on the sounds everyone else was making, she was sure it was delicious, but she couldn’t even taste it through the iron of her anger. She made sure to “mmm” in all the right moments, but she was grateful that no one engaged in real conversation with her because she wasn’t sure she listened a single word that was said the whole time. Instead, her anger grew into new fiery magnitudes as she sat and watched Rowan pout.

The fire sparked more as Rowan excused himself halfway through their after-dinner movie to go upstairs to shower and never returned. Why was he the one allowed to pout? And as the flames flickered, heating her all the way through, Aelin was blessed with a genius idea. If he wanted to pout, she’d give him something real to pout about.

She stood, resolved in her plan, and she swore that Manon’s eyes were glowing as she smirked devilishly.

“Give him hell, babe.”

And she would. Aelin felt lighter than she had in hours as she made her way back up to their bedroom, fully resolved.

As she predicted, Rowan’s eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn’t asleep. This was part of his pouting process. His freshly showered hair was still damp over his strained brows as he muttered lowly to himself. She knew he heard her enter because his muttering paused, but he barely cracked an eye open as she went to her suitcase and pulled her nightgown from the bottom and took it into the bathroom to change.

Nightgown was perhaps too polite a word to describe the thin scrap of a garment she’d brought with her. It was indecent, was what it was. Aelin pulled the lacy fabric over her head and pulled it down and gasped. The it clung to her every curve, showing off the parts of her body that were (barely) covered by its low neckline and even shorter hem. Her skin seemed to glow in contrast to the delicate pink lace, which looked nearly transparent beneath the fluorescent lights overhead. Her anger had momentarily subsided, replaced with a burning confidence. She looked incredible.

Taking a deep inhale, she swung the door open and moved across the room to discard her other clothes into the plastic bag she’d designated for laundry. Despite not sparing him a glance, she could feel the exact second Rowan’s eyes opened and spotted her. As she bent lower, she could practically hear him choke on his own inhale.

“Wh-what’s that?” he asked, and she had to bite back her grin as she looked over her shoulder as innocently as she could.

“Oh, this?”

He nodded slowly, his eyes ravenous as he scanned her barely clothed form. She bit back another smile as he sat up further, arms crossed over his bare chest.

“It’s a nightgown.” She paused and widened her eyes for effect. “It’s cute, right?”

He practically wheezed as he shook his head. “Is there not… a bottom half?”

Aelin noted his hands balling into fists, grasping at the sheets below him as he attempted to relax into the pillow behind him, turning out the lights in the room one by one until the only one remaining was on the table beside him. His eyes tracked her the entire time.

“Nope,” she said. “It’s so much hotter here than at home, and you know I hate sweating when I sleep, so I brought a few with me.”  

His eyes burned hotter with desire as she hoisted herself onto the bed and crawled over to him. His eyes lowered to her chest where the front of the nightgown was gapping slightly, and his jaw was loose as she crawled closer.

“I didn’t know you had—clothing like that.” As she finally reached his side of the bed, he brushed his finger against the lace, and recoiled quickly, as if the fabric had burned him. “And you have more?”

“Nightgowns?”

He grunted an affirmative.

“Yup.”

Rowan visibly gulped.

“I know we need to talk, but can we table it for night?” she asked, leaning even closer to him.  

“You want to table it?” he asked, his hand reaching out slightly between them, ghosting against the skin of her thigh.

He looked so overcome with lust and desire that she almost felt bad as she reached across him, pressing her curves against his bare chest.  

“Mmhmm,” she said, batting her eyes at him, loving the dazed expression that overtook his face in reaction. “I’m sooooo tired.”

“Tired?”

His lusty expression was blanketed in sudden darkness as she reached past him and turned his tableside lamp off.

“Night, Ro.”

She rolled to her side, her bare back and most of her butt exposed to him, and for a few seconds there was only the sound of rustling sheets as she nestled down. She thought they were finished talking for the night when Rowan spoke up again, “What other colors did you bring?”

Aelin smiled to herself. “Why? What colors do you want to see?”

“All of them,” he said. “Green…gold...” She heard him roll to his back and turn his face to the ceiling, both of them falling into a silence so thick with tension she felt itchy. She could practically feel Rowan’s desire through the dark, practically hear his teeth grinding with frustration.

It wasn’t until thirty minutes later, when she heard him slip out of bed and turn on an extremely cold shower, that her eyes finally fell closed and sleep overtook her.

. . .

The next morning, Aelin awoke early again, but this time to an empty bed. The room felt cold and dark, especially with the ominous grey clouds threatening to open up and pour hanging outside the window. Ugh. Guess they’d be looking at some indoor activities today.

Whereas Aelin had awoken filled with inspiration and creativity yesterday, she felt bogged down in her own frustrations today. Her taunting nightgown had done its job, but she didn’t feel any better. And she certainly didn’t enjoy waking up without Rowan, despite how mad at him she was. Which… she was. Still. Very mad.

The house was quiet as she threw on some sweats and grabbed her journal. Despite how much drama it had caused — well, it hadn’t caused any drama, really, it was an inanimate object who had no agency but still — she had really enjoyed revisiting it. Journaling was a rare opportunity for self-reflection and solitude, and she enjoyed being able to just let whatever she was feeling come out through her words.

She was just finishing her cup of coffee when Aedion staggered into the kitchen. He overfilled a large mug of his own coffee and slumped across the table from Aelin.

Aelin snorted. “Rough night?”

Aedion glared up at her. “You could say that.”

“In Dorian’s bed?” she asked, but Aedion’s eyeroll shut that down quickly.

“I wish,” he groaned. “Alas, I was up all night watching Golden Girls with your surly boyfriend.”

“What?”

Well, that had Aelin’s attention.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. He didn’t tell me anything.” He paused. “He’s not really a man of many words, is he?”

Aelin shrugged. “So, you just sat and watched tv together all night?”

Aedion nodded. “Pretty much.” He gestured toward the family room. “I went back to bed when he finally passed out… like… two hours ago? But my stupid brain wakes me up at the same time every day, no matter what, so I’m up again.”

“I’m sorry,” Aelin apologized.

But Aedion simply shrugged. “It was weird, but kinda nice to have the company. I’m usually up all night alone.”

Aelin knew Aedion well enough to knew that was a prompt. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She reached her hand forward and laced fingers with his and squeezed. Her superhero of a cousin had always seemed larger than life to her, and to see the dark circles stained beneath his eyes… well, she knew there was more lurking underneath than just his brush off answer of not sleeping.

He was opening his mouth to answer when Lysandra, Manon, and Elide made their way into the kitchen.

“Later,” he said, pulling his hand back and raising his mug in greeting to the newcomers.

“So, it’s pretty gross out there,” Lysandra said, wrinkling up her nose in annoyance as she poured her coffee. “There’s an arcade pretty nearby with a million indoor activities — laser tag, blacklight bowling, batting cages, bumper cars, and approximately a hundred arcade games, but it’s supposed to rain on and off for the rest of the week, so, it might be jumping the gun to go there immediately.”

“I don’t mind staying here,” Elide said, eyeing Manon like a piece of dessert and making Aelin’s heart pang with jealousy. That’s what she wanted to be doing all week. But stupid Rowan had to ruin it with his stupid lack of boundaries. Oh well, at least someone was utilizing this spring break week properly.

“Totes. And don’t think I didn’t clock that massive closet filled with games,” Aedion added. “A chill day with some board games?”

“DON’T TRUST HIM!” Aelin shouted, pointing at Aedion with an accusatory glare.

“What?”

“A chill day of board games?!” she asked, incredulous. “one is less chill about board games.”

“Except for you!” he laughed. “And she cheats.”

“Oh my god, are you ever going to get over that? Wagyu is in the Scrabble dictionary. We confirmed it,” she said, having had this fight with him approximately a million times in their lives.

“It’s a proper noun! It shouldn’t have counted!”

“Well then, neither should have margarita!”

“It’s a type of drink.”

“Just like wagyu is a type of beef,” Rowan interrupted, loafing into the kitchen with a tired smile. He rubbed at his messy hair and yawned loudly as he slid into the chair next to Aedion, nudging his arm gently. “It’s been at least five years. Can’t you let it go?”

Aedion grinned. “Never.”

She took a second to take in Rowan’s disheveled appearance, but his bloodshot eyes and haystack hair it did nothing to satisfier her. Instead, it made her want to shove her head against his chest and kiss his frown away. But she leaned back and stuck her tongue out at her cousin, irrationally annoyed at her own reaction to Rowan’s sudden appearance. She had been so proud of herself last night, but her hours of sleep had done nothing but make her weak against his presence. She needed to batten down her emotional hatches and prepare to push against him. Ugh.

Lysandra scoffed. “Okay, well, maybe let’s keep Scrabble in the closet.”

“Who’s in the closet?” Dorian asked as he rifled through the cabinet and pulled out a box of cookies and a tub of frosting. Without waiting for an answer, he tore open the package and dipped the cookie into the frosting, and popped it into his mouth.

“Ohhh, me too, me too,” Aelin reached out with grabby hands, knowing that a sugar rush was definitely the answer to her less than optimal mood. Dorian walked to the table and plopped the sweets in front of her, still hovering, so as not to leave the sweets on their own.

“Your metabolism is a medical marvel,” Aedion muttered.

“Thank you,” Dorian and Aelin replied in unison, causing them to break into giggles and dig into the frosting again.

Lysandra rolled her eyes, but Aelin didn’t fail to notice that she stole a cookie from the open container and dipped it into her coffee.

“So, what’d I miss?” Dorian asked through sugar-laden bites. “Something about a closet?”

“Board game closet,” Aedion clarified.

“Mmm, I’m more into video games.”

Lysandra went over to a side console and pulled the door open, revealing a neatly organized row of consoles. “We’ve got those, too.”

“Fuck yeah!” Dorian cheered far too loudly for most of the people who had just barely woken up. “Should we set up a tournament? Brackets?”

“So competitive,” Aedion smirked.

Manon pinched her nose and yawned exaggeratedly. “I’m not awake enough for this level of enthusiasm.” She yawned loudly as she grabbed Elide’s hand. “We’re going back to bed.”

Elide giggled as they both grabbed their coffees and headed off to bed to do anything but sleep. Aelin thougth that maybe Rowan would do the same thing, seeing as he had clearly not slept well, but he simply sat there quietly as Lysandra listed out all the games she had and asked who wanted to play what.

Chaol rolled out of bed midway through the discussion, helping them come up with an extreme game bracket for the day.

They started with a rousing game of Monopoly, which Aedion crushed (but only because he was a known cheater), then moved onto Clue where Chaol surprised them all by winning. But Rowan played quietly, studiously avoiding eye contact with Aelin and sitting as far away from her as possible. By the time they were halfway through the game of Life, she was fully furious at him again. Her anger was compounded by the occasional squeal of giggles that floated from across the house where Manon and Elide were still holed up, and Aedion and Dorian’s heavy-handed flirting. It wasn’t fair. She and Rowan had worked so hard to get to where they were, and they finally had a full unsupervised week and a giant king-sized bed and more nightgowns than she could possibly wear, and he was avoiding eye contact with her??? This was all his fault to begin with!

She channeled her anger as she sped around the Super Mario Cart track, throwing shell after shell at his Link, seeking out any kind of reaction.

“What the hell, Ace?” His eyes flashed at her furiously as Link fell off the track from spinning out on her well-placed banana.

His annoyance only fueled her further, focusing on smashing the bike her Princess Peach was riding against his car again and again.

“Hey!”

Rowan stood suddenly, using his entire body to try and smash her back.

“Uh, you guys know you’re supposed to be racing and not killing each other, right?” Lysandra asked as her Tanooki Mario (or Furry Mario as she referred to him as) zipped by them.

“Let them fight it out,” Aedion laughed, his Donkey Kong lapping the fighting pair again. Aelin hadn’t even noticed that she’d stood up and was shoulder to shoulder with Rowan as they fought each other, using whatever weapon they came across to throw at the other. She dodged his bomb, but his red shell hit Peach square in the face, knocking her off course. She retaliated by driving right into the back of his car, causing him to step closer and lean into her as they fought. The feel of his arm against hers gave her a shocking thrill, and she momentarily lost focus, letting him pull ahead of her. Not that their rankings mattered at this point; they were nearly a full lap behind everyone else.

“FUCK!” Rowan growled as Dorian’s Yoshi crossed the finish line. He threw down his controller with a loud whoop and danced around the coffee table, bragging about how he was the King of Kart, how no one would ever beat him.

“Again?” Rowan asked, eyeing Aelin, who nodded immediately.

Everyone else bowed out to go put together some lunch, but that was fine. Aelin and Rowan needed their alone time. It wasn’t quite like what she imagined their alone time would look like, but it was necessary nonetheless. She let him choose the racetrack, and he of course chose her nemesis: Rainbow Road.

“Fine by me,” she said.

Neither of them sat, aggressively pushing against each other as they whipped around the course.

“Get out of my way!” Aelin shouted, but Rowan was suddenly just as fired up as she was.

“Over my dead body, Princess!” he yelled back as Link narrowly avoided a rogue banana peel.

Aelin growled, flashing her teeth at him as she sped around the part of the course she knew best. She felt like she was flying, her heart soaring with each sharp turn and each coin she accumulated.

“Nooooo,” Rowan groaned as Aelin shoved against him, causing him to lose his concentration and fall behind. His thumbs fumbled on the controller, and Aelin used the moment of distraction to hit him with a shell and beat him by a mile to the finish line.

“HA!” she said, doing her own victory dance.

Rowan’s face scrunched into one of disdain as he flopped back onto the couch. He rubbed at his face and closed his eyes, his exhaustion zapping her of the thrill she felt from her win.

“Ace…” he said with a soft sigh. “Can we please talk?”

Her shoulders tensed and she shook her head.

“Please?”

“I’m still so mad at you, Ro,” she finally said, barely whispering.

“That’s why we should talk. Just, get it out.” He reached out and laced his fingers with hers. “I miss you.”

“I’m right here.”

But he shook his head. “No, you’re not. And I did that. I know I did.”

She took a deep breath. “I can’t pretend like it’s fine. It’s not,” she said.

“But you’re not ready for me to apologize?” he asked. “I was up all night thinking about it, and…”

“I’m not ready to talk about it.”

“So, what, you’re just not going to talk to me for the rest of the week?”

She shrugged, her refusal to talk seeming nonchalant, even though pain tugged at her stomach each time she looked at his sad green eyes.

She didn’t know why she wasn’t, but even knowing that he wanted to apologize, she didn’t want to hear it. Maybe it’s that she knew she would cave immediately, and she wanted him to stew and understand just how badly he’d messed up. So, yeah. She was choosing to stay angry.

“Okay, well… let me know when you’re ready,” he said.

“I will.”

And though she knew they’d come to some sort of stalemate, a rough truce, it didn’t stop her from breaking out yet another nightgown as they made their way to bed that night. This one was a silky material that looked like molten gold, the soft fabric rippling as she strutted across the room. It was just as short as the pink lace number from the night before, but this one also had a low, low back. It seemed like it was barely held up, just above the swell of her ass by two delicate straps that she was sure Rowan could break with his teeth if he wanted to. The way it fell across her skin, it could have been painted on, barely concealing a thing.

Rowan’s eyes had never been wider as she unbound her hair, letting her blonde tresses fall down the naked expanse of her back. She could practically hear him gulp as she got into the bed beside him. His eyes flashed from her thigh to her back to the swell of her chest to the dip of her waist, unable to decide where to look.

“Ace… you look…” His eyes were wide and pained as he curled his hand into a fist, clenching and unclenching, as if he were aching to touch her. “Stunning. You’re a goddess.”

“Maybe we should have angry sex,” Aelin laughed, but Rowan didn’t look amused at all.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He paused and looked at her up and down, desire prickling every inch of her skin as he took his time taking her in.

“I’d settle for a kiss,” she said. “If you wanted to.”

He didn’t wait for any more direction, letting her pull his neck down and press her lips against his in a burning kiss. It’d barely been over twenty-four hours since their last kiss, but it felt like a thousand years, if their bodies’ reactions were any indication. Their mouths opened and tongues met as their fingers scratched at each others’ scalps, tugging harder and harder, until Aelin’s bare thigh was hitched around Rowan’s hip. She could feel him throbbing inside his shorts, and she couldn’t help but tilt her hips against him, rubbing like a cat, desperate to be pet. It was only when a wanton moan escaped her mouth that he reared back, jumping out of the bed with a start.

“Shit,” he breathed hard. “You’re far too tempting.”

He adjusted himself in his shorts and threw on a t-shirt.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“This parade of nightgowns is going to be break me,” he said, chuckling darkly. “I think I should sleep downstairs again.” He paused. “Unless you want to talk?”

Aelin’s lack of response was enough for him to know his instincts were right.

“Right,” he sighed. “See you in the morning.” He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before turning on his heel, leaving her alone, still breathless and wanting.

Hours later, Aelin was still staring at the ceiling, horribly awake. She was feeling that itchy sense of restlessness. No matter how long she closed her eyes for, she kept seeing the flash of hurt in Rowan’s face again and again, burning itself into her brain until she couldn’t keep her eyes closed any longer. Fuck this.

She tore the silly gold nightgown off and replaced it with some well-worn sweats before padding two floors down to where Aedion had been placed. Despite the late hour, the light was still shining beneath the crack in the door, and Aelin was relieved. She’d hoped he’d be awake, but hadn’t been totally sure. She announced herself with a small knock before cracking the door open.

Sure enough, Aedion was upright in bed, scrolling on his phone absentmindedly. His blue-green eyes stared up at her, startled for a second, before melting into a familiar smile. He patted the comforter next to him, and she bounded across the room before jumping onto the bed with a large bounce.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, and Aelin shook her head.

“You’re not hanging out with Rowan tonight?”

Aedion chuckled softly, rubbing the top of her head with his large palm. “Nah, I thought I’d swap out with Lys tonight.”

“Lys? Is hanging out with Rowan?”

“Yup.”

Aelin paused.

“Should we check on them to make sure there’s no blood shed?”

Aedion inhaled, causing him to snort loudly. “I thought you wanted his blood shed?”

Aelin groaned and flopped back onto the soft pillow. “No, of course I don’t. I love him. I would like him to stay alive and in one piece.”

“Sure could have fooled me with your shell throwing, Peach,” Aedion laughed. But he sat patiently, waiting for her continue.

“He read my diary.”

“Whoaaaa,” Aedion whistled. “That…”

“Isn’t cool?” Aelin completed his sentence. “Yeah, I know.”

“I was gonna say, that doesn’t sound like Rowan, actually,” Aedion said, running his hand through his thick hair and pushing it back thoughtfully. “Why’d he do it?”

“Huh?” Aelin asked, distracted by her barrage of feelings of betrayal and hurt once again.

“Why’d he do it?”

“Uhhh…” Aelin didn’t have an answer.

“He didn’t give you a reason? Why he opened your journal and invaded your private thoughts?”

“Well, he started to but…I kind of didn’t want to hear it?”

Aedion sat thoughtfully, his eyes glazing over as he parsed through his own emotions and figured out what to say next. It was rare for Aedion to speak so candidly with her. Their relationship had always been a series of taunts and sibling-adjacent teasing. But he was smart and knew her better than most. And he lived her entire history with Rowan, so she was curious to hear his response.

“I think you should hear him out,” Aedion finally said, causing Aelin’s hackles to rise. Why should she have to listen to his explanation when the betrayal was so clear cut and obviously wrong? Why should she care about the why when the what couldn’t ever be explained away. “I know what you’re thinking,” Aedion continued. “Because if you’re going to be fully and rightfully mad, you should know what caused this insane lapse in judgement.” He paused again and stared at her.

Aelin nodded, taking in his explanation, but she wasn’t sure she agreed with it. “I’m not ready to stop being mad yet,” she admitted.

“You don’t have to.”

“I just know that as soon as he starts explaining, I’m going to forgive him. And I don’t want to forgive him.”

“Why not?”

A small tear ran down Aelin’s cheek as she sniffled. “Because he’s leaving me.” She shook her head, sniffing the tear back and continuing forward. “I think maybe there’s a part of me that thinks maybe this is just an easy way to push him away. You can get left if you leave first, right?” She took a deep breath and stared up at her cousin with wide blue eyes, her lip trembling. “Aed, am I totally fucked up?”

“C’mere,” Aedion said, letting Aelin lean against his shoulder and cry it out.

She knew this was about so much more than her journal. It was a panic reaction. Even though Rowan had reassured her approximately seven hundred and one times that he wasn’t going anywhere, that deep down, she still didn’t believe him. She was so ready to push him away. Because him wanting to be with her… it didn’t make sense. And so when he made this (albeit huge!) mistake, and was upset with her, her instinct was to lean into that feeling. Like, aha! She knew it! He didn’t want to be with her, after all. Because she’s terrible, so who could want to be with her?

“Just talk to him.”

She thanked Aedion for his advice, but wasn’t sure she was going to take him up on it. Instead, she went upstairs and wrote all her feelings down. They were raw and uninhibited, and for the first time, she realized that maybe there were wounds between them that had never healed. Aelin’s eyes finally fell shut just as the first rays of dawn peeked over the horizon. And it was nearly noon by the time she woke up to Lysandra tapping her shoulder.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hi,” Aelin startled, looking at the clock and cringing a bit. She’d slept half the day away.

“It’s still raining, so we’re going to head to the arcade, did you want to come? Or do you want to chill here?” Lys asked. “We just didn’t want to leave without telling you.”

Aelin shook the last vestiges of sleep off and sat up slowly, stretching her arms overhead. “No, I’m up. I’ll come.”

Lys left her to get ready, and despite feeling groggy as hell, Aelin didn’t bother to do anything other than get dressed for the day and tie her long blonde hair into two neat braids.

The arcade was only a few minute drive away, but in her typical spot in Rowan’s passenger seat, it somehow felt a thousand years long. She’d tried to get into Manon’s car, but Aedion had practically shoved her into the jeep. By the time they arrived at the arcade, Aelin felt shaky with tension. Honestly, she felt like she could somehow run a marathon and easily fall over all at the same time. She wasn’t sure what to do with the mass amounts of adrenaline and nerves coursing through her, but luckily, the group decided they wanted to do bumper cars first, which was an excellent outlet for her stress.

As she shoved her car into the side of Rowan’s car, making him crash into the back of Dorian’s and causing a giant pile up, Aelin was feeling pretty great. She felt even better as she and Dorian went head to head for a Just Dance battle that she fully nailed. But her anxiety came back tenfold when the group decided to end the day with an epic laser tag battle, putting her and Rowan as team captains.

She glared at Lys, who had divied them up, but her friend never looked her way, ignoring her as they split up to “strategize.”

“Okay, Captain,” Manon said, slapping Aelin’s shoulder. “What’s our battle tactic?”

. . .

It turned out that Aelin was an excellent laser tag player. She eliminated the competition with a swift efficiency, like she was born for it. She took Aedion out first, since he was unpredictable and athletic. Then, Lys, who tried to stay camouflaged in the corners of the complex castle-shaped course, but she spotted her darting across one turret and took her out, too. Manon turned out to be a great wing-woman, too, keeping Aelin’s sides safe from the other side’s onslaught of attacks.

“On your left!” Manon hissed, causing Aelin to jump directly out of Rowan’s laser’s range. She was about to stick her tongue out when Manon gasped and fell to the ground. “Nooooo, I’ve been shot!” she gasped dramatically. “It was a coordinated attack! Get Chaol! Then save yourself!” she shouted.

Rowan stalked closer, but Aelin darted into a corner, out of sight, managing to take out Chaol in a surprise move. But without her defenses, her team started dropping like flies. Elide and Dorian were quickly eliminated, leaving just Aelin and Rowan in the course by themselves.

“Come on out, Ace,” he said. “You can’t hide from me forever.”

“Can too!” she shouted. But saying anything was a mistake, he followed her voice, and she narrowly darted out of range from his laser. “Too close,” she muttered, crouching on the ground and scaling the shadows of the walls again.

She spotted his glowing swath of hair under the black lights and attempted to target him, but it was as if he knew where she was at all times. They could feel each other’s eyes, even in the dark, as if there were some invisible thread tethering them together. No matter where she hid, he found her, and same for him. She didn’t know how long the game had gone on, until there was a flashing light overhead.

“Your game is ending in five minutes,” a speaker said overhead. Whoops. They’d used the entire hour and a half.

“Just call it a truce, and let’s go,” Manon whined. “I’m ready for dinner.”

There was a rumbling of agreement on the sidelines, but Aelin refused to call a truce. Stealthily, she snuck against the wall, tracking his every movement, until she knew she had him cornered. It was only when Rowan’s laser hit her target that she realized he’d known she was there the whole time, luring her into his trap.

“UGH!” she said, throwing down her laser as the lights came back on. “You couldn’t have just let me win?”

She knew she was being a sore loser, but she ignored Rowan’s outstretched hand, saying good game. But when she saw his lips tug down, she felt like crying again.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Can we talk?”

His eyes lit up. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “But food first?”

She’d thought they were going to stay at the arcade for dinner, but apparently the restaurant was attached to a bar, and Aedion suggested they take pizza home instead. Although she was ravenous, by the time they got back to the beach house, Aelin just wanted to get through this conversation. She held Rowan’s hand, stopping him from exiting the jeep with everyone else, but luckily, he got the idea immediately.

“Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Why’d you do it?”

Rowan’s jaw loosened slightly. “We’re just jumping right in?”

“Yup.” She twirled the end of one of her braids nervously. “So… why?”

Rowan sighed. “I think you’re going to be madder when I tell you why.”

Aelin’s shoulders tensed. “That’s okay.”

“Okay,” Rowan continued, steeling himself. “I know that I’ve told you to take your time telling me things, but… after what happened with your mom…” He paused. “I can feel you shutting me out. And I just wanted to know what the hell was going on in there,” he said, tapping the side of her head. “And I guess I read a bad page, but it just seemed to confirm everything I thought. That you had given up on us, that we weren’t meant to be together.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve loved you for so long… and I stupidly thought that we got past all the bad stuff and we would share everything, but it just felt like we were in the bad stuff again.”

Aelin took a deep breath and hummed, processing his words. As predicted, her anger had melted away with each of his words, but she was left with a raw and gaping hurt instead. “I need you to understand that it’s okay for me to have a private space to think through my feelings, Ro.” She paused. “That journal is like my therapist. It’s seen all the highs and lows and everything in between. And… I wish that you had just asked me what was wrong, instead of going behind my back. Just because we’re in love and share ourselves with each other doesn’t mean we don’t have boundaries. That journal is a hard limit.”

“I can see that now,” he admitted, running his hands through his hair, making it even more disheveled than it was before. “And I get it, I really do. I just… wanted to know how you were really doing.”

“I will always tell you how I’m really doing,” Aelin said. “It might not be immediately every time, but I will.” She leaned forward and laced her fingers with his.

“I think maybe I’m still figuring out what our boundaries are,” Rowan said. “Sometimes I think I know everything about you, and then other times you’re a complete mystery to me.”

“Isn’t that part of the fun?”

He squeezed her hand. “I’m really, really sorry. I jumped to conclusions and was a stupid idiot, and I’ll never ever ever do it again.”

Aelin scoffed. “You’d better fucking not, or I’ll wear another week’s worth of nightgowns and refuse to let you touch me.”

Rowan chuckled softly. “That was cruel.” He paused. “Are we okay?”

“If you’re asking if you can touch me in my nightgown tonight, then the answer is yes,” she said with a small smile.

He leaned forward and kissed her softly, and she could feel both their anger dissipate with each press of his lips. With a sigh, he leaned his forehead against hers. Because she knew that wasn’t what he was asking.

“Yeah, we’re okay, Ro,” she finally said, and he exhaled deeply.

But despite her words, that night and for the rest of the week, when Rowan slid his hand beneath the silk and lace of her nightgowns, she couldn’t help but feel an uncomfortable gnawing in the pit of her stomach that perhaps too much had gone unsaid.

[forget-you-morelike-fuck-you]

Heartwork- E.M. Pt. 3

You and Eddie go out to dinner at the diner.

1 - 2 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - Epilogue

Masterlist

TW- Cursing, innuendo

Pairings- Eddie X Reader

Word Count- 1,711

(Gif not mine, Credit to owner!)

You nod as you all walk out of the theater, having been the only one to see it before, you were the only one prepared for the complete mind-fuck in store. The three men with you walk out dazed, eyes glossed over as they digest the movie.  

“That was awesome,” Dustin muses as the four of you walk toward the front. You simply nod again. 

“I know. It’s genius,” You state. 

“New favorite movie, for sure,” Eddie comments. 

“I told you it was great! It’s an instant classic.”  

“I mean, Anthony Hopkins… He’s just…” 

“Fucking fantastic, is what he is!” Gareth exclaims. “And Buffalo Bill!” 

“It rubs the lotion on its skin, or else it gets the hose again!” Dustin imitates, making you all laugh as you push through the front doors.  

“Hey, we’re gonna go to the diner to get some food, you guys wanna come?” Eddie offers.  

“Nah, I’ve got work early in the morning, thanks though,” Dustin says.  

“Yeah, and I’ve gotta get home to Nicole. Maybe next time?”  

“Yeah, for sure! Here, take my number and we can schedule a lunch together!” You hand both Gareth and Dustin card from your purse and bid them all goodbye, then you turn to Eddie.  

“Okay, I’ll meet you there?” Eddie nods. 

“Yeah, I’ll see you in a few minutes.” You hug, even though you’re not saying goodbye, and you laugh as you pull away. 

“See you in a few.” You walk to your car and get in the driver’s seat, backing out of the space and pulling out of the lot. You see Eddie’s car pull in the parking lot for the diner just before you do, and you pull into the space next to him and get out to go inside to meet him. 

“Hey! Fancy seeing you here.” You laugh, pulling Eddie’s attention to you. He smiles, hands in his pockets as he turns to you. 

“Yeah, it’s like we planned it or something!” He takes a step towards you, that sweet, goofy smile you’ve always adored dancing on his lips. “You ready to sit?” He motions with his head to a booth in the corner. The usual booth that the three of you always used to sit at. You nod, remembering all of the good times this place held with a smile as you walk over and sit down across from each other. 

A couple of minutes later, a waitress comes over to greet you. “Hi guys, I’m Tina. Can I get you started with something to drink?” She looks a bit younger than you two, maybe still in high school.  

“Yeah, I’ll have a coke, please,” Eddie says, looking up from the menu. The waitress writes it on her pad and looks to you.  

“I’ll just have a water,” She nods and writes again.  

“Are you ready to order or do you need a few more minutes?” You and Eddie look to each other, when you see Eddie shrug slightly, you turn back to Tina. 

“Just a couple minutes please,” She gives a tired smile as she nods again and turns to go get your drinks. The next couple of seconds are silent as you and Eddie look over your menus. 

“Wanna split some cheese fries?” Eddie asks, an eyebrow quirked playfully as if getting cheese fries was a risky activity. You chuckle and contemplate, lips pressing together as you hum in thought. 

“That sounds good…” You begin as you narrow your eyes devilishly. “But you know what could be better?” You lean in slightly. 

“What could be better than cheese fries?” Eddie rolls his eyes.  

“Chili cheese fries!” You exclaim. Eddie nods solemnly. 

“I knew I kept you around for a reason!” You reach across the table to smack Eddie with the menu lightly, both of you laughing. 

“I thought you said I was your best friend!” You feign hurt across your face, only thinly veiling the ever-growing smile you wear. 

“Yeah! Because who else would condone eating cheese fries at 10:30 at night?!” Eddie rolls his eyes like it’s obvious. You’ve missed this. You didn’t have many friends in Chicago. Most of the people you had classes with were stuffy, uppity people from rich families. You never vibed with those sorts of people. You’ve always preferred the outcasts, having been one yourself in most of your formative years. You had a couple of casual friends, but nothing comparing to the deep bond you share with Eddie, and what you once shared with Y/BFF/N. 

Tina comes back as your laughter wanes, a light smile on her face, probably amused by the antics between you and Eddie. “Alright, are we ready to order now?” You turn to her and nod, glancing back at the menu for the name of the burger you’re wanting.  

“I think I’m gonna do the Bacon Cheeseburger Royale, with no tomato, please, and we’re gonna split an order of chili cheese fries.”  

“Okay, great choice. And for you, sir?” She turns to Eddie. 

“I’ll do the Grilled Chicken Sandwich, and I’d also like bacon on mine, please.” Eddie grabs both of your menus to hand back to the waitress.  

“Alright, and will that be on one check?” 

“Yes!” You interject as Eddie begins answering. “I’ll take it.” Tina nods and turns to go put in your orders. 

“You don’t have to buy me dinner!” Eddie says. You roll your eyes exaggeratedly. 

“You didn’t have to buy my movie ticket! You can get dinner next time, okay?” You reason, smiling at Eddie across the table. He shakes his head lightly, but gives it up.  

“Alright, deal.” You shake on it and keep talking until the food comes, the conversation never slowing as you laugh together. 

“Oh, do you remember Steve?” Eddie asks, stuffing his mouth with a couple of fries. You roll your eyes up, thinking, until his picture pops into your head. 

“Harrington? Yeah, what about him?”  

“I talk to him every once in a while. He just got his degree in Education. Guess where he works now!” You think back on Steve, not the most studious person, you recall, but a nice enough guy. You mainly remember how attractive you and the whole of Hawkins thought he was. Man, he’s gonna have a rough time with his female students. 

“Hawkins High, I’m guessing? Jesus... Doesn’t that man have enough ego without being fawned over by a bunch of hormonal teenagers?” You chuckle at the thought, cheerleaders asking for special “extra credit” when they fall behind in his class. Poor guy, he’s gonna have to bathe in hand sanitizer just to keep the creepy off.  

“Yeah, but he seems to really like it. At least the kids listen to him for the most part. God knows that all of high school is a popularity contest. I guess it’s true even for the teachers.” Eddie says.  

“I suppose so. I heard from my parents that the Wheeler girl... Nancy, right? I heard she’s working for NBC now. My parents are friends with her parents.” 

“Yeah, and Mike, her brother, you remember him? He’s at CalTech. Sends me a postcard every once in a while. He was a little shit in high school but he and that girl he’s with seem to be happy.” You think back and remember the girl vaguely. You only ever saw her once or twice but Mike never seemed to stop talking about her.  

“Isn’t she his cousin or something?” You squint your eyes, trying to remember as Eddie laughs out loud across from you.  

“Fuck no! That was just a rumor going around for a while before everyone believed he had a girlfriend!” You chuckle now, slightly embarrassed at the false memory. 

“Oh, oops!” Eddie laughs harder as a bubble of laughter bursts from your mouth to accompany his and as you inhale, you snort a bit, which makes Eddie, and then you, laugh even harder. You’re practically in tears by the time the food’s gone, stomachs tense, face aching from all the fun you’re having.  

The bill gets brought out, and after you pay, you and Eddie walk out to the parking lot together, still joking about everything under the sun. He walks you to your car, and you turn to him, wrapping your arms around his slender frame in a hug. “This was so much fun. Thanks for inviting me out,” Eddie reciprocates, bringing his arms around you and squeezing, laying his cheek on the top of your head.  

“Don’t mention it. Now that you’re back, I’m gonna be dragging you out to everything!” He jokes. “You’re gonna get sick of seeing me.” You scrunch your nose and shake your head as you part. 

“I’ll never get sick of seeing you, Munson. You’re probably the best thing about this place.” You confess, smiling sweetly. Eddie scoffs, rolling his eyes dramatically and you almost swear you see a tinge of pink sweep across his cheeks as he smiles. 

“Nah, no way. You might be, though.” He leans in for another quick hug, and you get a shock as you feel his lips press briefly to your cheek. It’s not the first time he’s kissed you in this friendly fashion, but it feels different all the same. Maybe it’s just because it’s been so long. Still, the warmth of his lips on your face for that brief moment makes your heart skip an unexpected beat. “Alright, I’ll let you go now,” he says, smiling out of the corner of his mouth. You nod, trying to calm the beating in your chest as you say your goodbyes. 

“Okay. I’ll see you Saturday at my parents’ though, right?” He nods as he remembers. 

“Yeah, definitely. I will be there.”  

“Okay then, goodnight. I’ll see you soon.” You start to turn to get into your car. 

“Yeah, see you soon. Goodnight, Y/N.”  

With that, you get in and close the door, sticking the key in the ignition. You can still feel the spot Eddie kissed, and you let out a deep breath. “Well, that’s new,” You mutter to yourself, putting the car in reverse. It’s nothing, you think. You just didn’t expect it. It doesn’t mean anything. You keep trying to convince yourself as you drive home for the night. 

@corrodedcoffincumslut @haylaansmi @bebe07011

[partyofwords]

Bad Comedy ~ *Sasara Nurude*

Summary: Sasara is a better comedian when he’s with Rosho. Believe me, you know this all too well.

Pairing: Sasara Nurude X G/N!Reader

Genre: Fluffy Drabble

Word Count: 368

Warning: Sasara only likes puns and cheesy jokes and I will die on this hill

Masterlist

“How does a penguin build its house? Igloos it back together!” Sasara busted up laughing while you just rolled your eyes at his bad joke.

“Seriously?”

“What? You didn’t like it?”

You shot him an unimpressed look. “What do you think?”

He shook his head. “You’ve always been my harshest critic. Well, you and Rosho.”

“That’s because we both have taste.”

Sasara scoffed. “You wouldn’t know taste if it came up and tickled you.”

You made a face. “I hope it won't.”

He waved his hand, saying, “Either way, you’re not my target audience. So I don’t care about your opinion anyways.”

“First off, rude.” You snapped. “Secondly, for saying he has no taste, you care an awful lot about Rosho’s opinions.”

“It’s called banter. You should look it up if you’re still confused.”

You rolled your eyes again. “Sure, whatever you say.”

Sasara smiled at you. “Am I detecting a hint of jealousy from you? Say it isn’t so!”

Making a face, you smacked the back of his head hard. “I’m not jealous of shit! I’m just stating an observation, that’s all.”

“The observation being that you’re jealous?”

“I don’t know why I put up with your annoying ass.” Grabbing your jacket, you muttered, “I’m just going to go.”

Sasara grabbed your hand, chuckling. “No, c’mon! I didn’t mean to annoy you. Come on, stay.”

You glared at him. “You’re a real ass, you know that? I’m surprised the others in Dotsuitare Hompo don’t think the same way.”

He scoffed. “Oh I’m sure Rei hates me and I don’t blame him. I don’t trust him either. But Rosho is my friend. He loves me.”

“I’m sure he does.” You answered sarcastically. “And you probably love him more than me.”

“You are jealous, aren’t you?”

“I’M NOT JEALOUS!”

“Right…” He snickered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, if you’re some comedy genius as you claim, you tell me a joke.”

“You want a joke? Stop me if you’ve heard this one before.” You smirked devilishly at him. “The joke? Our relationship.”

His jaw dropped. “THAT’S A LOW BLOW AND YOU KNOW IT!”

Laughing, you shrugged, “Still funny.”

[flowerymoments]

My horror manga readings pt. 4

(part 1; part 2; part 3)

Baptism, Kazuo Umezz: My first long-form horror manga by Kazuo Umezz! I was very skeptical that such a long horror story could keep me interested for its entirety but I was proven wrong. I found myself binge reading it. It was one of the most surreal, unsettling and thrilling reads of the past year for sure but! nothing is perfect. I almost considered dropping it lmao.

[SPOILERS!!!]

The edition I’ve got consists of 3 volumes. The first volume introduces Izumi Wakakusa, a highly successful actress obsessed with her beauty, however,  something torments her, an eczema that covers her face. After many failed attempts with the help of her trusted doctor to get rid of it, she retires from the scene and gives birth to a girl, Sakura. She then starts a new life with a new identity away from the spotlight.

Izumi becomes an overbearing mother, very protective of Sakura’s beauty.

Later on, Sakura discovers her mother’s evil plan, a medical experiment that will strip her of her being forever. Once Sakura’s head is the same size as her mother’s, Izumi’s brain will be transplanted into Sakura's skull so she can fulfil her dream - a new chance at life with the perfect face and to marry. Her victim? Sakura’s teacher.

The trusted doctor performs the procedure and it is successful! Sakura no longer exists as her brain is smashed and Izumi’s body is buried.

Now, everything is set for the upcoming events to unfold. Volume 2 is just sequences after sequences of the most unsettling scenes. Some are very graphic in its violence, others are more into being gross or just distressing mind games.

Kazuo Umezu nailed it in creating the most devilishly protagonist ever. She really started to get on my nerves with the way she got away with everything and I just wanted to see her get taken down! Her expressions, that damned smile when she knew she won, or acting all innocent... please, someone take her down! This was my mood throughout this whole nightmare.

I don’t remember exactly when the reporter character was introduced, if at the end of the second volume or already in the third one, but I was not feeling it. I felt it was too late to add a new character so why bother, but then, when the twist came it was clear that it was for the purpose of adding clues to lead up to said twist.

The twist, honestly, I did not see it coming. The brain transplant did not happen!! It was all in Sakura’s mind! She was the one doing all the horrible things, not her mother! The trusted doctor was long dead!!

My initial reaction was “you’re fucking kidding me, everything we were made to believe, everything we saw, we just throw it out the window??” But once I finished and let it sit with me, it was kind of genius, dare I say? Only because it changed my perception of Sakura as a character. All I took from the very first few pages before she was “killed” was that she’s fond of her mother, she’s a good friend and student and that her mother’s words regarding beauty didn’t seem to affect her, but it did and adding to that her shock from the reveal of her mother’s plan it was enough to fuck with her mind. So the gist of the story turned out to be about a mother and daughter relationship from a toxic and twisted perspective, to put it shortly.

Although, I think the ending was wrapped up too fast. Izumi was buried, that really happened, but it turns out that she survived lmao!!

I want to highlight two other characters, first Ryouko. She’s best friends with Sakura and I found her scenes amusing. She was loyal to Sakura and was ready to do anything for her, no questions asked. Poor girl, she was horrified by Sakura’s confession so she felt she had no other choice but to say yes. You could feel her despair. And the second character is one of the schoolmates who is suspicious of Sakura and decides to investigate on her own. But poor girl, she had no idea who she was up against. That was amusing as well.

What made me almost drop this manga >>> There was a bathroom scene between the teacher and Sakura, because remember, Izumi/Sakura plan was to marry him, and that was too uncomfortable to read/see due to being kind of graphic. I think there could be another way to convey the length Sakura was willing to go to make her plan work but honestly miss me with this shit. If my memory serves me right, another scene later came up, but the art was more symbolic so it’s up to interpretation to what the hell may have happened there... I don’t understand why teacher didn’t put a stop to that, anyway... at the end I ended up continuing my read.

[doamarierose-honoka]

Super Monkey Ball is one of those franchises that randomly has a huge fan base you rarely ever hear from. One such fan is my wife, who doesn't seem to like any video games at all but absolutely loves Super Monkey Ball games. She played the first Super Monkey Ball game on the Gamecube obsessively and talks about it every time we have any sort of discussion about gaming. So naturally, as soon as I found out Super Monkey Ball Banana Rumble was on sale, I immediately picked it up.

Truthfully, I too am a fan of these games and am very much looking forward to playing it as well. While I coudn't get myself to pay full price for any Switch game, the price of $34.99 feels just right.

Super Monkey Ball Banana Rumble Deal - 30% Off

While I haven't yet had the pleasure of playing Banana Rumble myself, I have read the IGN review of the game and it convinced me that it is absolutely worth playing. With an impressive set of 200 courses across 20 worlds, we've concluded that this is the best Monkey Ball has been since the GameCube era. Our own Nintendo expert Logan Plant had the chance to go hands on with the game and here's a quick snippet of what he thought in our review:

What We Said in Our Review

"Super Monkey Ball Banana Rumble is a brilliant return to form. Monkey Ball has finally found its way home again with a set of 200 fantastic courses that range from delightfully charming to devilishly challenging, backed up by tight mechanics and predictable physics that put me in total control of my monkey’s fate. This isn’t just a cover album of Monkey Ball’s greatest hits, though, as the new spin dash ability is a genius evolution of the franchise’s core ideas, and smartly-implemented online play adds fresh layers of cooperation and strategy. The underwhelming and forgettable battle mode is Banana Rumble’s biggest disappointment, but the sheer amount of optional objectives and replayability found in its adventure mode make it easy to ignore. It doesn’t quite reach the heights of the amazing GameCube originals, but Banana Rumble is easily the best Super Monkey Ball game in over 20 years." - Logan Plant

Super Monkey Ball Banana Rumble was release just last month on June 25 and this is the first and biggest discount we've seen on this game. It's especially surprising after a rather lackluster showing of Prime Day Switch deals earlier this week. If you've been hoping to pick up this game at a discount, now is the time to do so.

[highnoteblog]

Mac Demarco playfully forces you to overthink with “Another One”

by Alfonso Navarro

With bittersweet and hopeless emotions ironically elevated by optimistic delivery, Indie Rock innovator Mac Demarco extends his immersive profile with “Another One.” This 2015 single precedes his fourth studio album, which interestingly shares the same namesake.

Bragging a diverse repertoire of rock and synth sounds in previous works, the song is only a taste of what the happy-go-lucky Canadian has uniquely crafted with the aforementioned album, as the track has displayed a wonderfully new mix of jazzy, slow, vintage sounds that would make any listener feel some form of familiarity.

Moving over to the song’s melody, listeners are greeted by a drowsy, somber-like instrumental which sets the tone for what to expect: a track that will grab your attention and demand you to open up your emotions.

Demarco’s ability to create such movement within the listener is seen in his ability to connect chords that produce a heartbreaking aura, with a rhythm that is contrastingly skippy and upbeat. This stark contrast creates a melancholic sound that displays the rocker’s musical genius. This skill set is elevated by his ability to create impactful lyrics.

Although Demarco’s structure choice follows a simple verse-chorus-bridge pattern, this did not limit him from expressing simple yet hard-hitting statements.

Through the song’s lyrics, the vintage sound-wielding Demarco places himself as a conscience, subliminally feeding the thought that the listener’s hypothetical partner is fading away from them. “Feelin' so confused. You don't know what to do. Afraid she might not love you anymore,” Demarco devilishly sings, “And though she says she does, and hasn't lost your trust. Who could that be knockin' at her door?” Simply, Demarco hints at a possible third party that may ruin a relationship.

The chorus straightforwardly plays devil’s advocate. “Must be another one, must be another one she loves,” the track suggests. Although the piece’s chorus only repeats the aforementioned phrase, it is a strong statement that implants itself in the mind of the listener.

Although the verses and chorus are written with simple, digestible phrases, this makes the song one of the more memorable tracks in the album. It is a tune anyone can understand and, hence easily relate to. This is what Demarco has mastered throughout his extensive career as an indie artist: write songs relatable to even the most innocent of hearts.

From your daily commute to your vulnerable moments of self-reflection, the track will never fail to make you feel something every listen. As much as you try to ignore the feelings that arise in each verse and chord, you cannot stop yourself from feeling even the smallest amount of sadness.

Ultimately, the song and the album it is a part of is a testament to Demarco’s talent. His 2012 album entitled “2” showcases his ability to rip through trippy rock melodies, while “Salad Days” (2014) displays his ability to mellow down his music and take an emotional path. Yet, it is in “Another One” that the indie goofball displays his diversity as an artist. It is not he who composes these powerful melodies, but rather, the emotions that stem from the lyrics he jots down. “Another One” is a song that is arguably timeless, as it has placed itself on a level of its own. No other song before it has copied its aura, and no other work after it may accurately emulate its sound. Demarco can endlessly share with the world that he is just like any other guitar player (See 0:58-1:27), but the craftsmanship and attention to detail he puts in albums are second to none. This track bears witness to Demarco’s importance in the indie rock scene.

[shespeaksinsongs]

🎂 daydream bear - send in your daydream scenario and i'll add onto it!

I want to apologize beforehand not only for the fact that I'm sending this LITTERALY last minute but also.... My dirty dirty mind

Giving Draco head under the table at the Great Hall, during dinner you sneak in with your invisibility cloak....

HIM TRYING TO CONTAIN HIS GROANS AND MOANS 😵

this would so happen. pretend you were covering his peepee with the cloak as well. you are a genius marcela. a genius. also i feel like this isn't that great. i'm actually super tired rn.

smut ahead - proceed w caution

- you borrowed the cloak from harry. you told him you were going to use it to sneak into the kitchens that night, but when he noticed you were absent at dinner and draco's head was tilted way too far back, he realized you'd been using its abilities for other services.

- at first when he feels something touching him down there, he jumps, immediately looking under the table to see what there was. he passed it off as some ghost just being stupid, and continued to eat his dinner.

- but then he felt a tap at his foot. you quickly took the clock off to reveal your head, as you smiled devilishly, maintaining eye contact while you slipped the zipper to his pants down.

- "shh" you said, bringing a finger to your lips as you wrapped yours around his tip, sucking slowly, but tantalizingly.

- he continues to try to eat, but when he dropped his silverware on the plate at one of his thrusts into your mouth, he blushed furiously, smiling slightly as he tried to explain to your friends that he just wasn't hungry.

- anytime he'd talk to someone, you'd stop sucking and begin swirling your tongue around his tip, and his tip only.

- each moan that wants to slip out his mouth gets even more difficult to suppress the faster you go. sometimes he would moan, passing it off to your friends as a sound of delight from the food.

- finally, as he approached his climax, his fingers curled around the wooden bench, his rings almost indenting his skin red. his legs shook as he thrust his hips slightly more into your mouth, not wanting to make any more noise or attract any more attention.

- he came in your mouth as you continued bobbing your head up and down, leaving no room for him to breathe as pure bliss rang through from his ears to his feet.

- when he finally finished, you lifted the cloak off for him to look inside your mouth, proving you were clean and had swallowed it all.

- "good girl" he whispered, pressing a kiss to his thumb, and pressing it to your bottom lip. "you'll get rewarded for that tonight." he said even quieter, looking around the room to make sure nobody had seen what he'd just experienced.

[elysianslove]

heyy sal ^-^ i know this seems a lil sudden but do u mind givin some comfort hcs or somethin with tsumu n an s/o wif overbearing family who's been feelin really shitty and unmotivated lately?? am sorry if this is a lil much but i have been feeling . Not good as of late ... and i really miss tsumu idk :( maybe a lil bit of hurt/comfort and cuddles and a night out 2 mcdonalds or something would be nice if ur up to it <3 ur writin is so amazing ilysm !!

hi lovely!! found it hehe,,, here’s your comfort fic! i hope you like it! mwah <3 

miya atsumu is a great texter. 

not just in the sense that his ability to hold conversations is immaculate, and not just because your messages between him are overflowing with extravagant voice notes and an endless amount of objectively unattractive up close photos of his face. it’s because he always, always, without a shadow of doubt, no matter the hour, day, week, month, replies within the second. you’d jokingly accused him of being addicted to his phone, until you realized, aside his brother, you were the only exception — that’s also because he has some ridiculous ringtone for your calls and messages, but you pretend to be oblivious of that fact. 

as you grip your phone with shaky hands and stare at your screen through bleary eyes, you watch as your message gets delivered, then read almost immediately after. 

can i please be with you right now? 

a grey bubble appears, hovering at the bottom of your screen, three dots rolling evenly within it. it then disappears, and in its place a message materializes. 

of course. should i pass by or leave my window open? 

already, your chest feels lighter. 

fifteen minutes later, he’s before you, donning a simple shirt and sweatpants, sneakers on his feet. his smile is bright when his eyes meet yours, and his arms are home when they come to wrap around you, pulling you in close, embracing you tightly. your own arms easily slip around his waist, the feel of him beneath the thin shirt grounding and steadying. you release a shaky breath just as he squeezes you reassuringly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. 

“heya, gorgeous,” he softly greets you, leaning back slightly to take a look at you. hesitantly, slowly, your head lifts off of his chest, arms still wrapped around him. his smile visibly falters at the sight of you, it saddens and softens, but it doesn’t disappear. although a little forcefully, he urges his smile to widen, and brings a hand up to the string of your hoodie, tugging and teasing, “nice hoodie.” 

against all odds, you scoff amusingly, rolling your eyes. “yeah, you’d think so,” you retort, and he laughs lightly. 

gently, he twists you around to pull you to his side, an arm tossed around and over your shoulder. “so, what’re we thinkin’?” he wonders aloud. “convenience store ramen?” atsumu tilts his head towards you, and when your nose scrunches in disapproval, his does too in mimicry, and then he shakes his head. “convenience store ice cream?” he says it as if it’s a genius idea, a victorious grin on his face, until he’s met with another disapproving look. 

“m’not really hungry, ‘tsumu,” you begin to argue, despite knowing how fruitless the attempt is. 

“tha’s not what i’m askin’.” he feigns offense as he says this, before he tilts his head back, thoughtfully humming. you watch him in both slight amusement and endearment. he’s really cute, you think, with the slight pout to his lips and the messiness of his hair. it’s obvious that he’d just rolled out of bed after having taken a shower, if not for his hair then for the comforting smell you sense. he’s sturdy by your side, body easy and relaxed against you, leaning into your touch just as much as you lean into him. he hums again, speaking to himself in hushed tones, and you think again, he’s really, really cute. 

“you’re really cute, ‘tsumu,” you voice, and atsumu stops his deep and thoughtful monologue about the importance of a decision like choosing where to eat at eleven pm. when he turns to face you, you offer him an easy smile, before urging him arm tighter around you again, and continuing your walk. 

“ya think i’m cute?”

“well, i am dating—“

his arm falls from around you to his side, and he halts in his steps.

“cute?!” 

you pause, turning to the side to fix him with a humored, confused stare. he’s wearing a shocked expression, eyes wide and mouth slightly parting. it makes you want to giggle. “is that a bad thing?” you wonder.

with a whine, atsumu deflates, his arms tossed to his side, hands slapping his thighs as if he were a toddler throwing a tantrum. “yer cute,” he begins to argue. “yer cute ‘n pretty n’ gorgeous ‘n very hot.” 

you quirk an eyebrow. “thanks?” 

“but i’m handsome, babe. devilishly han’some if you will. sexy. charming. hot—“

“thought i was hot?” 

“m’not taking you to mcdonald’s anymore.” 

you gasp, reaching out for his forearms and gripping them tightly. atsumu runs warm, always has and possibly always will, that it’s always a welcome feeling touching him. unless you were in the middle of summer beneath a thousand blankets, but that’s not your current concern. “how did you know i was craving nuggets?” you wonder, exasperated and in awe. 

he lifts up a finger and tilts his chin back, as if prepared to make a very important note. “not only am i devilishly handsome—“

“‘tsumu.”

“you’re always craving nuggets, doll.” 

a fair argument, you guess. 

“— and i’m psychic.” 

you smack his arm. 

“finger. guns, babe. finger guns!” 

you lift your hand up in motion of a gun, but instead, you flip your boyfriend off, sipping slowly through the staple yellow and white straw. condensation from the cup in your grip drips to your knuckles, slowly trailing down your hand. 

your gesture is met with a deadpan expression before atsumu twists around away from you. he’s facing a bench in the middle of an empty public park, his phone propped up against the back of the bench and opened up on the camera app. in the small lower left corner of the screen is a small preview of a picture you’d just taken together: it’s cheesy and honestly a little cringe, with atsumu doing a ridiculous pose with finger guns, and a you with a hesitant peace sign. it’s what led you to this moment— he just really wants you to do some finger guns with him. 

facing the phone, atsumu bends down and clicks on his screen, while you take another long sip. upon buying a ridiculous amount of fries, nuggets, and two burgers, the two of you had walked for a few moments, not so quietly because atsumu has the long lived habit of never knowing when to quite stop talking, until you’d reached the park. beneath a dying tree, the two of you sat and ate, watched the stars through the branches of the aged tree while atsumu explained you the ridiculous justification behind punching his brother earlier in the day during practice. after a while, he’d gotten the great idea of taking pictures together, despite the terrible lighting, obscure setting, and not the most fitting choice of outfits. 

you’re slightly lost in thought, and honestly atsumu is a little too fast for his own good, that you don’t notice him barreling towards you until he’s right before you. you’re too late, and suddenly he’s kneeling, arms wrapping around your thighs, lifting you up high. he leaves you with no choice but to quickly wrap your arms around his neck, leaning in close until your cheek is pressed to his. he holds you tight to him and you barely see the flash turn off before you’re lifting yourself up again, staring down at him with a fake scowl. 

“why would you do that?” you scold him, pinching at his arm as he drops you to your feet again. 

he mumbles a small ouch at your pinch, rubbing at his sore arm as he defends himself, “well ya weren’t doing the finger guns!”

“finger guns are stupid.”

“yer face is stupid.”

“your face is stupid.”

“like hell it is.” rather stupidly, atsumu spreads his arms wide, showcasing himself. “i’ve got so much to offer.” to humble him, you reach out, hand splaying on his stomach and fingers wiggling. he’s quick to react, curling in on himself slightly and grasping your wrist tightly, fixing you with a warning, cold stare. “do not.” 

you giggle wickedly, and wiggle your fingers again. atsumu shrieks, holding your wrist away from his stomach. 

it’s a good thing you’ve got two hands. 

it’s nearly two in the morning when he first yawns. unintentionally, guilt starts to creep up your spine, settling heavy on your shoulders and chest. atsumu notices, as he always does, but instead of mentioning it, he shuffles down on the bench, and leans slightly towards you until his head rests on your shoulder. with the feel of him against you once more, you will yourself to relax, and reach for the hand closest to you, intertwining your fingers with his.  

“yer so fun,” he mumbles, and you feel the vibrations from his voice. as he sighs contently, you finally do properly relax, and shuffle low until your head rests above his. 

“you are too,” you respond. “only when you’re not doing finger guns.” 

he scoffs. “ya love me ‘n my finger guns.” he lifts up a hand, and clicks his tongue as he motions a gun. jokingly, you slap at his hand, pushing it away. 

the wind whistles softly, calmly, and atsumu’s hair tickles your cheek. 

“i don’t wanna go home,” you admit with a small voice, smaller than you’d wish. 

atsumu presses himself closer to you, thumb tracing at the back of your hand. “we can jus’ stay here,” he offers. “sunrises are pretty.” 

you hum thoughtlessly. 

“we can watch it from my room too, if ya’d like.” 

your heart stills, and you swallow thickly. “you sure?” 

he nods. “you’ll always have a home with me.” it’s not an offer, but a fact. 

twisting your head, you place a kiss to the top of his head, the familiar scent of his shampoo overwhelming your senses for a moment. “i do love you and your finger guns,” you whisper against his hair, reveling in the loud laugh that leaves his lips as you twist your head back to rest it against his again. 

quietly, sincerely, you laugh with him. 

[y0itsbri]

kinktober day 3 -- lingerie @gallavichthings

the devil in disguise

ian has a deep appreciation for mickey's halloween costume.

beta read by @mishervellous ❤️

words: 1.3k

"when you said you wanted to do a couples costume, i thought you meant with me!" ian rifled through his closet, trying to put together a last minute costume while mickey changed in the bathroom into his costume so he could coordinate with fucking tami. ian could have been an angel, but no, that simply wouldn't do.

to be fair, ian should have seen this coming after lip decided to put in an ungodly amount of extra hours at the shop. tamietti's went hard for halloween, and this year was not going to be an exception. he cursed lip for inadvertently stealing his husband away from him for the night.

this was impossible. ian banged his head against the wall.

"you die out there, firecrotch?" mickey called, voice strained.

ian was thoroughly confused with whatever elaborate feat was going on behind the closed door.

"no," he called, hopeless. he tried again, "you need any help in there?" ian reached for the knob only to find it locked. motherfucker.

"aye no peeking!"

"are you almost done? i need your help," ian sat back on their bed, sinking into their mattress and tapping his fingertips along this thigh.

he couldn't decipher all of mickey's mutterings through the wooden barrier, but the 'jesus fucking christ fucking gallagher' was unmissable.

ian grinned devilishly. he was always in the mood for a grumpy mick.

mickey unlocked the door with a click and stepped out in a red blur, discarding his old clothes on the floor in his corner of their room as if ian's world wasn't currently being absolutely rocked merely three feet away.

it took mickey a moment to realize that his normally chatty husband had yet to say a word. shit. maybe ian didn't like this kind of thing.

he bit the bullet and faced ian head on, only to meet a love-shook caricature of his husband -- wide eyes, blushing cheeks, and mouth agape, damn near salivating.

oh.

mickey smirked and flexed his arms not so subtly, "what d'ya think?"

ian unfroze from his trance, caught. he groaned and flopped back onto the bed, lifting his head and peeking at mickey between his fingers, "you're going to fucking kill me."

because there mickey was. clad in a fucking red, silk, corset cut just for his body. the red ribbons crossing in the front, carving his figure in all the right angles.

after a moment of deep appreciation and an unexpected awakening, ian allowed his eyes to scan the rest of mickey, which wasn't bearing any better for his blood pressure.

sheer, fingerless red gloves were stretched across mickey's hands, faded knuckle tattoos still visible. the glint of his ring seemed more prominent all of a sudden.

ian's eyes made their way up his arm, chest, neck. a sequined devil horn nestled into his dark hair and reflecting the low light of their bedroom lamp, giving mickey a literal red aura.

enjoying the show, mickey spun around, biting his lip. ian continued to ogle.

red fishnet stockings covered mickey's muscled thighs under almost-too-short-not-short-enough leather shorts embroidered with orange flames. pointed wings attached with some elaborate belting situation between his shoulder blades, and an arrow tail slinking around his hips.

"i think this is hell," ian closed his eyes, willing the blood to go back to his brain by the sheer power of force.

mickey chuckled darkly. "that so? ian gallagher on the naughty list?"

ian cracked an eye open, "what are you, fuckin' santa claus now?"

mickey smacked ian's stomach as he sat on the bed next to his idiot of a partner, "fuck off, ho."

"don't you mean ho ho ho?" ian couldn't resist.

"and we're done," mickey made to stand up but ian caught him by the arm, sliding his hand down until he reached the hem of the glove, inching his own fingertips underneath and sliding against his skin. his voice went deeper in the way that he knew made mickey melt.

"lemme make a deal with the devil?"

he tugged and pulled mickey onto his lap so that he was straddling him, knees digging into the soft mattress.

"what does the mere mortal have in mind?" mickey teased, voice light but eyes dark.

"kiss me and i won't tear your costume to shreds," ian ran his hand up mickey's back, catching on the wings clumsily before tracing his silk clad skin back down to his thighs. "you're looking hot as hell." the statement carried heat behind it.

mickey's breathing picked up as he considered the weight of his options.

ian grinned, trapped under mickey's control, but waiting patiently for the signal he knew he would be allowed.

a breath. two. three.

"c'mere," mickey leaned.

ian crashed his lips against mickey's own, his mouth a fire hot cinnamon. ian groaned. did mickey really have a mint for this? motherfucker thought of everything.

ian traced his hands over the mickey's chest as they kissed, following the lines of silky ribbon crossing back and forth. back and forth. lower. lower. lower.

the textures of silk and leather and skin mixing together under his hands, grasping at whatever he could reach.

mickey's weight pinned him to the mattress, helpless.

he felt fingers caressing his hair as his mouth felt warmer as they melted into each other.

what felt like an eternity in damnation later, mickey broke them apart. they took a moment to assess their equally disheveled appearances while fighting to catch their breath behind a laugh.

ian made a grab to pull mickey back in, certain he would comply, but mickey was quicker.

he rolled off with a grunt, tossing a half empty water bottle at ian's still body and nudging his leg when he didn't respond.

"you ready to go?"

"go where?" ian picked up the water bottle and idly traced its shape with his fingers.

a flick. "the party? tamietti's? your sister-in-law? ring any bells?"

ian sighed as he nestled further into their bed, "i still don't have a costume."

mickey waltzed towards their dresser, a slight unbalance in his step, and flung an old flannel on the bed.

"lumberjack. you've already got the scruff, thank you very much." he added quiety, grinning lopsidedly to himself. he was genuinely so proud he had convinced ian to abandon the clean cut army man look and to not shave for a few days to see what would happen and dear god was he enjoying the consequences.

ian finally sat up and chugged the rest of water bottle in one go before setting on their nightstand. it took a moment for mickey's words to register, but when they did -- yeah.

"you're a genius."

ian leaned up to grab mickey again, but he side stepped ian's attempts and straightened his outfit. "no sir, you gotta get changed. we need to leave like... ten minutes ago. tami's gonna have my ass if we're any later."

"tami better not go anywhere near that ass," ian grumbled, but complying with mickey's requests.

"don't worry, logger, you're the only wood for me."

"oh mickey, now that was bad."

mickey grinned as he shimmied in his satin outfit, smoothing over the wrinkles that ian had put there mere minutes before.

ian could easily stare at this image of mickey all night. as he was buttoning up his flannel, he made a mental note to buy mickey some more red.

"i think red is your color, mick." ian let slip, shoving his wallet in his pocket.

"yeah?" mickey grinned, "you too, stud," he ruffled ian's hair and pushed him out the door.

[tuiccim]

The Partner Trap

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader     Word Count: 1438

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, sass

Prompt 31. Pranksters trap Person A and Person B together.

Summary: You and Bucky have an abrasive relationship at best until your teammates decide to trap you together.

A/N: This is for @adorkably​ 100 followers writing challenge! Congratulations, Angelcake! ILYSM!

Tony had bought out the entire fair for Stark Industries and the Avengers. The fairgrounds was alight with music, laughter, and squeals of delight. The Avengers team laughed as Bucky and Clint competed at water guns. Clint proudly carried his prize around and needled Bucky as much as possible. You and Natasha danced around to the band playing. Steve told stories about Coney Island. Sam dragged everyone to the wildest rides. The entire team had a blast as you went from ride to ride together. 

The only sour note was the bickering between you and Bucky. Today, it had started when the two of you were forced to sit together on one of the rides and Bucky purposefully took the seat you wanted. It got to the point that Tony threatened to duct tape both your mouth's shut. Natasha and Clint were sent in to separate the two of you. 

As the day was coming to a close Nat dragged you to the Mirror Maze. The two of you giggle as you got lost and confused by the maze. You hear someone coming around the corner and turn with a grin expecting Natasha. However, you run into Bucky.

"Ow." You say as you slam into his broad chest. 

"Such a whiner." Bucky grouses.

"Such a jerk." You brush past him.

Suddenly, the lights in the maze turn out and you hear doors slamming. 

"What the fuck?" You say.

"Hey, you two still in the Mirror Maze." Tony's voice comes over the loud speaker. "You didn't make it out in time, so now you get to stay here until tomorrow morning. Why don't you figure out why the hell you have such a problem with each other. Good night, losers." Half the lights come back on as Tony finishes.

"Tony!" You yell. 

"I'm gonna kill you, Tony. Clint, too!" Bucky yells. 

"Why Clint?" You ask.

"He's the one that drug me in here." Bucky says.

"Nat made me come in. Those three assholes planned this." You look around at the predicament you find yourself in. Stuck in a disorienting maze with the biggest jerk on the team. "Payback's a bitch!" You yell.

"They're gone. Why are you still yelling?" Bucky snarks. 

"Because I fucking want to!" You shout.

"Why are you so annoying?" Bucky yells.

"Why are you such a jerk?" You holler back. 

"Whatever." Bucky walks away from you. 

"Yeah, go! Go find a way out." You say.

"If I do, I'm not bringing you." Bucky throws over his shoulder.

"Ditto, asshat." You wander through the maze and make your way back to the beginning. There's no way out you can find and the doors are padlocked from the outside. Turning back, you wander until you get to the end where you find Bucky. 

"It's padlocked from the outside." He says.

"Same at the front." You say, deciding to try to be civil. 

"I could try to punch through it. Metal doesn't seem too thick."

"Oh, yeah, that'll work. I mean we'll be cut to ribbons as the mirrors around us shatter, but go for it." You snark.

"Well, what do you suggest, princess?"

"Don't call me princess, geezer." You lean on one of the mirrors and cross your arms.

"You're the one that started the name calling."

"I believe you called me whiner first." You shoot back.

"Not what I meant, genius." Bucky throws out. 

"Oh my God! When are you going to get over that! I called you Mister instead of Sargeant when I met you. It was a slip of the tongue! I wasn't calling you a name." You exclaim.

"It was disrespectful." Bucky growls as he stares into you. 

"So was refusing to shake my hand." You spit.

"Well, after the looney bin comment you really expected me to?" Bucky comes toe to toe with you. 

"Is that what made you so mad?" You say in disbelief. "I didn't know you had such great love for Senator Nichols. I'm so sorry I offended you." You roll your eyes. Being a supporter of the senator gave you another reason to dislike Barnes. Senator Nichols was an egomaniac with delusions of grandeur. 

"What are you talking about?" Bucky looks at you and you see some of his snark melt into real confusion.

"Senator Nichols. I said he needed to be in the looney bin, not joining us for a party. That's why you hate me so much? Because I made a stupid comment about a senator I don't like?" You look at Bucky and watch his face move through an array of emotions. "Barnes?" You try to snap him out of his thoughts when the realization hits you and your mouth drops open. "You thought I was talking about you. You thought I meant you?"

"I, uh, yeah." Bucky says contritely.

"No wonder you hated me. I wouldn't be too keen on me either." You say, reining in a smile. 

“So, that comment really wasn’t about me?” Bucky asks. 

“I’d never met you. Why would I say something like that about you?” You ask incredulously. 

“Because I was a brainwashed Hydra assassin?” Bucky says.

“Well, I guess that’s true. Some asshat might make that comment because of that.”

“Why did you hate me so much then?” Bucky asks.

“Uh, let’s see. You refused to shake my hand, reprimanded me for calling you mister instead of sergeant, and proceeded to treat me with disdain every time I was anywhere near you. Didn't make you very likeable."

"Guilty. I, uh, I'm sorry." Bucky says while rubbing the back of his neck. 

"Thanks." You look at him for a second. "Want to start over?" He asks. 

"I don't know. I'm pretty good at hating you now. I mean I could do a dissertation on your faults." You grin at him. 

"Come on, Doll, give me a chance to prove I'm not a total jerk." Bucky holds out his hand.

You stare at it for a second before putting your hand in his and shaking. "Okay." You smile. 

Eventually, the two of you end up sitting across from each other and talking. A few hours go by as you talk, laugh, and learn about each other. You find Bucky sweet and funny. You can tell Bucky's opinion of you shifts as well. 

"You're shivering, Doll." Bucky notices.

"It's a little cold." You flash a smile.

"Come sit with me. I'll keep you warm." Bucky grins. You move next to him and cuddle into his side as he wraps an arm around you. "That's better, right?"

"Yeah, thanks." You look into Bucky's eyes. He stares at you and then his gaze drops down to your lips for just a second. You lift your chin and his lips brush against yours lightly. 

"Is this okay?" Bucky asks after he pulls back.

"No." You say and reach up to cup his jaw. "I want more." You smile as his lips descend on yours more firmly and his tongue finds its way into your mouth. 

Abruptly, the rest of the lights come up and Tony's voice comes over the speaker again. "Okay, you two, that's enough. Break it up. Time to go. You didn't really think I was going to keep you here all night?"

"Still gonna kill you, Tony!" You say as the exit door opens revealing a grinning Natasha and Clint.

"Hey guys. Have fun?" Clint laughs.

Bucky smiles at Clint and then takes off in a chase.

"Won't take Bucky long to catch Clint. Hopefully, he doesn't actually kill-OW!" Nat cuts off when you punch her in the arm. 

"Really? You lock us in together?" You seeth.

"Yeah. Did you finally figure out why he hates you?" Nat asks.

"Yeah. He overheard the looney bin comment I made at the party." 

"Oh, crap. Did you apologize?"

"For what? I was referring to Senator Nichols with that comment." You smirk.

"No, you weren't. You… you lied to Bucky?" Nat furrows her brow. 

"Better than grovelling." You shrug.

"You have to tell him the truth. Apologize." Nat says.

"No. We're in a good place now. He and I can finally be friends. And more." You grin devilishly. "And you won't tell him either."

"What's to stop me?" Nat says.

You simply raise an eyebrow at her. 

Nat's eyes widen, "Fine." She says as she stalks away. 

A few minutes later, Bucky reappears, "Clint will think twice before pulling a stunt like that again."

"So will Nat." You laugh. "Ready to head home and maybe we can continue our discussion there?"

Masterlist

"Sounds good, Doll." Bucky says as he wraps an arm around your waist.

Part 2?

Permanent: @bubbabarnes @badassbaker @thefridgeismybestie @strangersstranger @cherthegoddess @buckyluvrs @sherlocksmanwatson @cap-n-stuff @finleyjayne @caplanreads @connie326 @daydreamerinadazedworld

Divider by @whimsicalrogers

[iron-mum]

I wish you would write a fic where Tony and kid Peter are being adorable father and son as retribution for the angst you’ve made me suffer through in the past hah! (JK I love you and your angst! 💛)

Well, well, well. What do we have here, eh? A request for adorable? I'm not sure, I'm very good at that 😌

Here's SIMTony who would stop at nothing to help his unwell son, Peter get better. Even if it meant using Extremis.

P.S. ILY3000 💕

In the final throes of the graveyard shift at the hospital floor, the elevator pinged for its frequent lone visitor. The front desk staff, whilst tense and sitting up suddenly straighter, knew not to actually engage. No ID was needed for their boss, one of them barely suppressing a gulp as his determined strides headed for the private room that had been deliberately placed near to the room equipped for every possible kind of emergency. Once inside, he carefully shut the door silently and took a seat at the bedside.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Sharp blue eyes shifted from the persistent buzzing of the most technologically advanced medical equipment anyone, anywhere could offer before looking back down to something far more invaluable and precious. Tony’s entire world. His purpose in life. The little boy on the bed lay motionless, breathing slowly and evenly, nose occasionally scrunching up at the discomfort of the oxygen mask upon him. He should have been cocooned in a hug from his father but instead his son, Peter, was littered with wires attaching him to the very best modern medicine had to offer.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Pale, soft skin with the daintiest of freckles stood out against the dark curls spread across the far too big pillow. The small fingers of his left hand had loosely closed around the calloused thumb of his father, letting him know that whilst he had been rendered weak from illness, he was still aware of his comforting presence. Tony’s index finger gently glided across the small knuckles, willing himself to see a tiny curve of the lips on his son’s face.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

This had been the Avengers fault. Peter’s current critical condition. The young boy had been on a school trip when a battle had broken out and the wannabe heroes managed to cause more destruction than lives saved. A chemical explosion had landed most of the class in hospital and many of them had ended up becoming very unwell. Unfortunately for Peter, he already suffered many ailments so even under the wing of Stark’s finest medical personnel, the struggle had taken a toll. The genius shook his head as thoughts of revenge started to sprout from the many seeds that had been planted since the catastrophic incident. He shelved the many ideas he had that would lead to the demise of the reckless group once his kid was better.

It had been hours when the sound of a nurse's footsteps acted as the catalyst that would remove Tony from the room so he could head back to his lab. As he reluctantly moved his hand away, there was no reaction. Not even a twitch from the slender child. Bending down, he tentatively stroked a small amount of the exposed skin that was available on the boy’s face before planting a light kiss on his forehead. By the time the nurse was opening the door to the room to complete the routine checks, any sign of a visitor would be long gone.

The moment Tony was back in his workshop, he strode towards his desk. Music started to reverberate from the ceiling, the sound greatly appreciated compared to the low hum and incessant beeping from the emotionless devices that were currently keeping his son alive.

Tony didn’t believe in a higher power other than himself. So in no way, shape or form was he ever going to accept that he couldn’t save Peter from the incurable illness now ravaging his frail body. Feeling powerless was simply not an option.

Rolling up the sleeve to his top, the genius opened a drawer and pulled out a device meant for extracting blood as painlessly as possible. Not that pain meant much to him these days. No pain would ever compete with a parent having to watch their child deteriorate every single second of every single day.

Satisfied with the draw, Tony placed it into a diagnostic machine of his own making. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass of his workshop, eyeing it like he was in the most intense staring contest of his life. Jaw clenching, his arm shot out allowing liquid metal to glide across his skin before firing a repulsor at the glass and shattering it. There was an element of irony to everyone loving his face except himself in the minimal but intrusive “what if” moments that surrounded his current situation. With a crack of his neck, his arm remained outstretched so the Endo-Sym armour could return to it’s housing tank.

“Boss, the results are back,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed as the music lessened in volume. “No adverse reactions detected still. The chemical composition indicates that the Extremis is unchanged in it’s integration with you on a genetic level and continues to remain stable.”

“And the sample from Peter?” Tony asked, confident that he knew what the answer would be.

“Also remaining stable.”

“Alert the staff intending to see Peter following tonight's shift that their presence will not be needed,” the genius demanded as he mentally reiterated the next steps of his plan in his head. Lips curled into devilishly handsome grin at his victory, eyes crinkling at the sides. The smile only softened when his eyes drifted to a framed picture Peter had drawn of the both of them. He’d done it.

“Certainly, boss,” the AI had responded without any acknowledgement. Tony was too busy in thought. Not only was the Extremis flowing through his own veins, leaving him feeling at perfect health. But soon, it would be doing the same for Peter too. Pain free, peak performance and at complete and optimal health.

“Have there been any sightings of the Avengers in the last hour? I feel a splash of revenge is in order for this special occasion?” The holo-screens in front of him started to flicker as social media sites were searched and hashtags refreshed repeatedly. Hulk had been trending within the hour and Hawkeye in the last eleven minutes.

"Well, how about that?" he grinned gleefully. "I really am being spoiled for choice."

Whilst the genius had been certain F.R.I.D.A.Y. had relayed the message to the morning staff, Tony still found himself exhaling sharply at the sight of someone sat by Peter’s side reading his file. The thin bag of Extremis in his hand was shifted into his back pocket as quickly as humanly possible. The good feeling from beating the shit out of one of the Avengers, plus the buzz of providing Peter with a cure that no meagre doctor had been able to, shifted into a tension as tried to work out who it was.

Their face was narrow with sharp features and glasz eyes remarkably penetrating when they met his perusing stare. His black hair had been combed back neatly, the sides of his temples a distinct light grey. The well fitted suit looked designer even for Tony’s impeccable standards.

“Your services are no longer required,” he affirmed with a dismissive flourish of the hands before the man could even introduce himself.

“I’m sorry?” the other man replied without hesitation, closing the file and rising from the chair. Tony’s chair. If he’d been expecting any pleasantries or introductions, he was thoroughly mistaken. Tony was already locked onto Peter, the gentle rise of his chest a welcoming sight as always. He refused to allow his attention to be divided, ignoring the piercing stare boring into him now. “I have an oath to this patient. He critically needs help from the best in all fields. He needs my help.”

The genius turned at that, an eyebrow raised as he looked the doctor up and down. He certainly held himself strongly for someone who had that much audacity in addressing the owner of everything within his current vicinity.

“Are you new around here… Doctor Strange?” He asked disingenuously, eyes narrowing as he scrutinised the name badge. The letters ‘VISITOR - Dr Stephen Strange’ jotted on the bottom, likely the reason he hadn’t got his AI’s memo. The receptionist who let him in would be fired whether it was her fault or not.

“Unlike everyone else in this building, no, I don’t work for you” the doctor shot back tersely. “However, you were so insistent on my consultation that, somehow, I found my diary completely cleared of all surgeries that were booked in.”

“Well, you can now stick them back in your diary. We’re done here.”

“I know this is difficult,” the doctor started, tone suddenly softer as if he were hoping a change of tact would get through. “You brought me in for my expertise, so use them.”

“I’m the most intelligent, capable person on the planet. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”

“Your arrogance surpasses all the rumours and expectations I had of you,” Strange snapped back incredulously. Apparently nothing was going to get through. “Your child is-”

“You know, it would be a real shame if you were to lose your medical licence, wouldn't it, doctor?” Tony sneered dangerously low. This ungrateful little shit was going to get it for not only wasting his time and energy, but also his son’s. An insignificant speck like the rest of the world.

“Are you threatening me?” the doctor replied doing his best to keep his tone cool and unflinching when the other man removed all personal space between them. The lack of intimidation he was feeling only pissed Tony off more.

“Let’s not test my resolve, doctor.” Despite feeling completely wrong about leaving considering Peter’s condition, Dr Stephen Strange tucked the file he’d been reading under his arm and left the room in just a few strides. Tony had spotted the hand diving for a phone as the door shut behind him and clenched his fists in disdain.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., be a darling and ensure Doctor Douchebag doesn’t make it back home,” Tony demanded followed by a nonchalant sniff.

“Yes, boss. His phone has also unexpectedly lost all signal so will not be usable anytime soon.”

Satisfied with the course of action his AI had taken, Tony locked the door to his son’s room for good measure. He eyed the current equipment before making his move. One of the drips currently providing Peter with much needed medicine was switched to make way for a sample of the Extremis that Tony had meticulously created and tested on himself. He peered at his son, swallowing thickly that this would all be worth it.

Bag secured, the first few drops started instantly, the older man watching as they flowed along the thin tubes before entering the cannula imposed on Peter’s hand. The skin began to glow orange, the lava looking trail gliding all the way up the arm’s before entering the chest. Daring a glance at the monitors, Tony noted an instant improvement in the readouts. A smile spread across his face as sheet-white, sickly skin started to immediately brighten.

Peter’s big, brown doe eyes suddenly shot open as he took a huge gulp of air, eyes landing on his father who was remarkably in focus for the first time in his life without the aid of glasses. Tony removed the oxygen mask so he could take his son’s face in fully for the first time in well over a month.

“Dad?” the young boy croaked, clearly a little disoriented from the abrupt wake up.

“Hey, buddy,” Tony whispered, voice cracking with emotion as he closed the distance between them.

Peter lunged at his father, his small arms wrapping tightly around the genius’ neck and face burying into his chest. It had been far too long since either had been able to enjoy the tender, heart-bursting feeling of overwhelming, unconditional love from one another.

“I love you, kiddo.” Tony gushed as one of his hand’s lovingly cupped the back of Peter's head holding him as close as possible. The other enveloped around his back, his thumb slowly stroking up and down. When the older man's hand started to trail through Peter's hair, the boy somehow managed to burrow even closer. Tony soothingly lifted curls between his fingers and then let them ping back as new life continued to circle through his son’s body.

“I love you too, dad,” Peter whispered, a strain evident in his voice that Tony hadn’t been expecting. When he leant back, he saw the likely cause. Now unnecessary wires were tugging at his child’s skin.

“Let’s get these off you, bud. You don’t need them anymore,” he promised softly as he carefully went to work at removing the monitoring equipment clips and stickers. Peter’s curious eyes followed every step of the way, surprisingly not wincing even when some of the tougher stickers were peeled away. Although he was too young to even begin comprehending what had happened, he knew from vague memories he’d been hurt and that he’d slept a lot. Often he had been unsure if he was dreaming or awake when he’d hear his father read him stories, express his love and let him know how brave he was being. A slight tug on his hand drew him from his recollection as he looked down.

"I’m scared," Peter timidly admitted as he eyed up the last piece of medical equipment attached to him. The cannula in his hand.

“Here’s what we're gonna do, bud. We’re going to put on our brave faces and before you know it, it’ll be all done and over with. Can you show me your bravest, fiercest face?” Tony gently challenged, as part of his upper lip curled and he playfully growled.

The child’s dinky nose scrunched up and his lips pushed out into the biggest pout he could form. He shook his head a little and hummed in a way that likely felt fierce to him but could only be described as adorable to his dad.

"Wowzer. That was super mean, you nearly scared me!” Tony gasped dramatically, as he gestured for the boy to look down and see that the only thing on the top of his hand was a small cotton wool ball and a light pressure from his dad. Using his free hand to fish into his pocket, Tony revealed a green Paw Patrol sticker with Peter’s favourite character, Rocky, on it.

It had been a distant memory since the young boy had handed it to him, having spotted the numerous nicks and cuts that littered his hard working hands after a long day in the workshop. Extremis meant Peter wouldn’t even need it, but the placebo effect would make it worth it.

“Am I all better, daddy?” Peter asked as Tony eyed him up once more. The overwhelmed father cupped his kid’s face and planted another kiss on his forehead, relief washing over him that he was now free from the concatenation of medical instrumentation.

“You most certainly are. And that means we get to skedaddle out of here.”

Before his son could anticipate his next move, his father had scooped him up into his arms and they were making their way not only out of the room, but off of the floor for good.

They’d had a chance to change into matching casual wear and feasted on a huge breakfast before snuggling up on the sofa. Peter had selected an Octonauts movie to watch as he tucked into his father’s side and enjoyed the sound of his steady heartbeat.

It would be a couple of hours when Tony’s phone pinged with a notification he knew was F.R.I.D.A.Y. when she was being discreet. His son huffed at the movement as he shuffled to get the phone out of his pocket, muttering an apology to his kid before opening the message.

[Unfortunate accident on the Hawk’s Nest, Route 97. Vehicle crossed the barrier and rolled multiple times down the cliff’s edge before landing in the Delaware River. Initial scan from one of the Iron Sight Bot #364 shows one survivor.]

Tony’s smirk widened into a full blown smile. Peter’s heart-of-gold eyes suddenly on him, looking up from his position. It was likely a silent protest at the lack of head strokes he was suddenly receiving so the genius replied swiftly.

[Call off any emergency services and get him med-evaced here.]

“You know what I think we need. Celebratory cheeseburgers for lunch,” he announced as Peter let out a squee of joy.

[delaber]

Just Friends (Part 9)

Story Summary: After moving to America for a 3-month long internship, you meet two interesting characters on a boring night out.

Word Count: 4.6K

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, minor drug use, smut, slight dom!Rafa, swearing, and loads of British references (sorry not sorry lol)

Chapter Note: smut smut smut smut smut smut smmmmmuuuuttt

Tag List: lonelydance mysearchforgratification ramp-it-up blndspotting summerofsnowflakes exrthangel honeysucklechocolatedrippin captaintightpants58

Other Parts: See Masterlist

"What did I tell you?" He laughed as he closed the door behind him, "you don't have to take off your shoes when you're here."

"It's the polite thing to do," you smiled goofily up at him, "what if I stepped in something icky earlier."

"I suppose I'd have to clean the floor tomorrow then," he shrugged, his eyes still bloodshot from the joint, "it's a risk I'd be willing to take."

Easy to giggles, you shot him a laugh.

"You want a drink?" he asked you and held up his index finger, "a quick word of warning; my margarita game is off but I do make a mean Long Island."

You arched an eyebrow at him, "Long Island? Are you trying to get me drunk?"

He sent you a smirk, "Your senses are already dulled from the reefer. How much more could a strong drink possibly do?"

"Okay," you laughed, "Long Island it is then - I do hope it's better than the 'Rafa Special' that you made me on New Years."

"Ouch, you big bully," he pretended to be hurt, "I lay down my guard and show you my true self and this is what it gets me? Some ignorant European tearing apart my cocktail game? I'm telling you; if I had just an ounce of self-respect, you'd be in an Uber on your way home right now!"

"I guess I'm lucky that you're completely spineless," you shrugged.

"Did you just say that?" He put down the lime he'd been holding and sent you a bemused smile.

"Let me just check; uh yes I did."

"Say it again and I'll definitely throw you out," he took a step closer to you trying to look dangerous but failing miserably.

"You're spineless," you whispered.

"One more time for Big Rafa, come on," he motioned a come on sign with his hand, stepping even closer to you.

"Spineless," you squealed and ran away from him as he started running towards you.

"I'll get you for this," he chased you into the living room where he grabbed you around the waist and threw you down on the sofa. He sat down on top of you and grabbed your wrists, "say it again," he urged you, as he easily forced your hands above your head, pinning your wrists together with just one hand. It reminded you of the night after New Years and you became strangely aroused by it.

"Okay, I'll stop," you squealed as he tickled your sides, "just let me go."

He stopped tickling you and went completely still, "never," he leaned in and whispered, lips hovering dangerously close to yours, his right hand warm against your ribs. He could feel your fast heartbeat through your black t-shirt as you made a quick decision and lifted your head up to kiss him softly on the lips.

He gladly reciprocated your tender kiss, looking pained as you withdrew your face after just a couple of seconds.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, "I don't know what just came over me."

Rafa let go of you and got up from the sofa, "Yeah," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry too," he took your hand and helped you up on your feet, "I'll go mix us those drinks," he said quietly.

While he went to the kitchen, you studied the guys' living room. You had only been in here once before and back then, you had been far too concerned with locating your clothes to really have a look around at the colourful posters and their personal belongings scattered around the room. Your eyes were drawn to a small shelf at the back of the room where miniature figures of Calvin and Hobbes stood. You took Calvin in your hand and examined him more closely before putting the figure back on the shelf, moving along to the next item; a gilded gramophone reading 'National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences, Daveed Diggs, Principal Soloist, Best Musical Theater Album - 2015, Hamilton (Original Broadway Cast)' along with what appeared to be a Tony award inscribed 'Best Performance by a Featured Actor in a Musical: Daveed Diggs as Marquis de Lafayette/Thomas Jefferson, 2015 - Hamilton.'

You did a double take as you read the text on the two awards again.

Rafa came in with two drinks in hand, "I see you've found Diggs' awards," he smiled, handing you a drink.

"Are these real?"

"Very real," Rafa smirked.

"Why didn't you tell me? I had no idea!"

"I wanted to see how long it took you to figure out where you know us from," he shrugged.

"Were you in this... Hamilton as well?"

"Oh, god no," he laughed, "and by your tone of voice I'm guessing you have no idea what it even is."

"Not a clue," you shook your head and took a big gulp of the drink, "So let me get this straight: Daveed is a hardcore rapper and a Broadway musical star? I never would've guessed that!" you laughed.

"Yeah, remember the first night when you came up to us and you couldn't remember where you'd seen us before?"

"Of course."

"We thought it was a weird trick just to get us to talk to you. Ever since performing in Hamilton, Daveed has been dubbed as America's fast-rapping sweetheart," he rolled his eyes.

"Are you jealous?" you chuckled.

"Not the least. But we can never go out anymore without people feeling the need to constantly come up to him and introduce themselves. It was fun at first but now it's kind of lost its glory."

"So you thought I was a groupie or something?" You laughed, "yeah, your reactions definitely make more sense now."

"Sorry for being a dick," Rafa looked pained, "Sometimes it's necessary when you just want a quiet night out with your best friend."

"So you were a dick on purpose yet you still came over to me and apologised?"

"I did," he laughed, "I thought you were too sassy to just let go. Especially after I realised that you'd been completely innocent and that you actually thought you just knew us from work or something. It was kind of cute so I felt bad for acting like a douche."

"I still feel like I know you from somewhere else apart from that night though," you mumbled.

"Yeah, I know. Come here," Rafa said and took your hand, leading you to a room in another part of the house where you hadn't been before. The room was lined with different recording equipment and movie posters.

"What is this?"

"Our workspace," Rafa said matter-of-factly, "We record music in here or write lyrics, scripts for sketches or plays. You know. Anything creative."

"I've never met anyone with a workspace like this," you took in the room with awe.

"...and this," Rafa continued, "I'm guessing is where you know us from," he pointed to a poster titled Blindspotting with a laughing Daveed and a tough-looking Rafa facing you.

"Yeah! Yeah that's it! I remember seeing this at the movies back home," you said excitedly as you took in the poster. You remembered thinking that the two leads were cute even back then, "so you're a musician slash actor?" you looked back at Rafa who was smiling at you.

"I prefer creative genius, but whatever..." he hugged you from behind, "your term is just as good I guess."

"Why didn't you tell me that I'd probably seen you in a movie."

"You were so unfazed by me and Diggs. And I knew it wouldn't impress you so I kept my mouth shut and told Daveed not to say anything," he snickered from over your shoulder, "I wanted you to spend time with me because you like me. Not because I'm semi-famous."

"I can't believe you thought I was a groupie," you chuckled and leaned into his arms.

"You're so much more," he groaned. His lips brushed against your neck and he kissed you softly below the ear.

His movements brought you back to reality, "Rafa," you sighed, "I know you're drunk and high but we can't be doing this."

"Mmh..." he hummed against you as he pushed your hair aside, his lips still tracing along your neck.

Slowly, you turned around, his arms still around you. "I'm serious," you said.

"I know," he groaned and let his arms fall flat to his sides with a sigh.

"Maybe I should go," you said, "this was clearly a bad idea. And I have to work tomorrow."

"On a Saturday?" he arched an eyebrow at you, "or are you just saying that so you have an excuse to leave early?"

"As I told you; I'm not even halfway done with the project I came here to do, so I actually do have to work tomorrow," you booped his nose, "I'm probably going to be quite busy the next week to be honest."

"So I really won't get to see you?" Rafa furrowed his eyebrows.

"Minimally," you frowned back.

"Okay, I have an idea; since my place is closer to your lab, I'll cut you a deal; how about you stay over, I cook you a nutritious breakfast tomorrow morning and then I take you to work?"

"I don't know," you said even though you really wanted to spend the night.

"No funny business, okay? This time I'm serious," he grinned.

"You said that last time as well," you laughed, "and the time before that."

"Look, I'll even take the couch and let you have my bedroom. I just want to spend the last few hours with you if I won't get to see you for the next couple of days," he shrugged.

"Okay," you gave in, "on one condition!"

"Anything," he said honestly.

"You go for a dip in the pool," you laughed devilishly up at him.

"What, now?"

"Yep!"

"You're not serious?"

"As serious as a heart attack," you said as seriously as you possibly could in your high.

"Okay. If that's what you want," he sighed dramatically before he turned around and discarded his t-shirt in one swift motion.

"Oh, you're really doing this," you laughed as you followed him out to the pool via the sliding doors in the living room next door.

"There's a lot at stake," he said as he pulled off his sneakers and socks.

"So for this you take off your shoes?" you teased him.

"Shut up," he grinned up at you before his hands started unbuckling his belt, his pants falling onto the tiles with a loud clank.

"Okay, I was kidding," you said as he was standing on the edge of the pool wearing only his boxers, "you don't have to do this."

"Oh, I'm not taking any chances. I'm definitely doing this," he said before he took a deep breath and jumped into the freezing water. He emerged spluttering, "shit, it's so cold," he bellowed as he whipped his hair out of his face and took a few strokes, "are you just going to stand up there and admire me?"

"Oh, the deal was for you to jump in. Not me!"

"Boo, you chicken!" he grinned up at you.

"Well, you're not exactly making a single selling point."

"If you don't jump in, you're not allowed to sleep over."

"You're not serious."

"As serious as a heart attack," he grinned up at you, as he mimicked your words from earlier.

"Oh my god. I cannot believe you're making me do this!" You squealed involuntary but ended up taking off your t-shirt and jeans, dipping your toe in the cold water as you stood in front of the pool in just your underwear.

"Just jump in," Rafa laughed, "What you're doing up there is pure torture."

"Okay. You're right," you took a few shallow breaths before counting to three, jumping in the pool close to Rafa. As you emerged, you pushed your hair out of your face, "so cold!" you squealed, "why did we do this?"

"I did it for you," Rafa laughed, treading waters in front of you, "I actually don't find it as bad as I had anticipated."

"You stay then! I'm getting the hell out of here," your teeth clattered as you began climbing the ladder, a laughing Rafa following close behind you.

You were shivering as you reached the top of the ladder, desperately clutching your arms to keep what little warmth you had left.

"Hot shower?" Rafa laughed.

"Yes, please," you nodded and followed Rafa to the bathroom where he turned on the shower for you as you immediately started undressing, ready to step in as soon as the water turned warm.

"It'll only be a minu- Oi!" Rafa said and quickly looked away. He had turned around from the faucet only to be met by you standing in front of him wearing only your soaking panties.

"Oh relax," you rolled your eyes at him, "you've seen me naked before."

"That doesn't mean it isn't just as... exciting," he gulped, desperately looking at the ceiling, "Uh, there are towels over there and I'll - uh - I'll find you something comfortable to wear for afterwards, okay?" he edged out the door still not looking at you. From the other side of the door he bellowed, "Uhm, on second thought. You can just use my bathrobe - if that's alright with you."

"It's fine Rafa," bellowed back with a laugh as you stepped into the warm water.

You stayed in the shower for a couple of minutes until you felt the heat return to your fingers and toes. You quickly dried yourself off, and pulled on the only bathrobe you could find, assuming that it was Rafa's. "That was lovely," you said as you met him in his bedroom. He was wearing the same trackies you'd seen him in before. "No shower?" you lifted your eyebrows at him.

"We have a cold shower by the pool," he said slowly with a laugh, "and I desperately needed it."

"Oh how old are you?” You laughed at him, “you can't even see breasts without getting turned on?"

"Not when they're yours," his face reddened slightly suddenly matching his eyes, "and especially with your nipples all hard like that."

A cold shiver went down your spine. "Yeah, sorry," you ended up saying.

"Oh don't be," he grinned, "it was a marvelous sight that I'll definitely cherish when I'm alone in bed at night," he winked at you, "it just excited me... Excites me now just thinking about it to be honest," he looked away from you with a small grin, clearly uncomfortable in his own skin.

"Yeah me too," you admitted, "it feels stupid to not be allowed to touch when we're so close to each other in so little clothes."

"We could just say 'to hell with it'?" He smirked.

"No, Rafa," you said sternly as you sat down on the edge of his bed.

He sent you a challenging look, "...or we could - you know - just... talk about it if you want to?"

"Talk about what?" you arched an eyebrow at him. Your decision was non-negotiable.

"Just talk for a while about what we'd like to do if the situation was different," he shot you a wink, "That's innocent."

"No it's not?" you laughed, "Not at all."

"I know," he smiled at you, "I'm just trying to get creative. We have to work with what we got, you know."

"Friends don't talk about what sexual stuff they'd like to do to each other," you shot him a look.

"Hey - can we just cut the bullshit for a few seconds?" Rafa said quietly, his Adam's apple bouncing in his throat as he swallowed hard, "don't call us friends when we clearly aren't,"

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea," you looked at him carefully

"You keep saying that," he sighed, "yet you're still here."

You put your hand on his arm, "I'm having a hard time too, you know. You're not the only one who wants this."

He shot you a sideways glance, "why can't we just say to hell with it then?"

"Because I know myself and this is what I have to do if I want to return to England with a somewhat sane mind."

"Whatever you say," he groaned as he threw himself down on the bed, his legs dangling over the side.

You lay down next to him and you put your hand on his chest, playing with the straps of his hoodie. He pulled you close and caressed your back with his fingertips, "do you want me to go sleep on the couch?"

"You can sleep in here with me," you said softly, "I'm going to miss you the next couple of days."

He kissed the top of your head, "yeah, me too," he said, "the last time you stayed over, my pillow smelled like you for days. It was pure torture. But it came at a price; your hair was everywhere. It was like having a dog again," he laughed.

"A small souvenir," you laughed, "sorry."

"I forgive you. But only because you look so soft in my bathrobe," he brushed his fingers over your back, "do you want me to get you a t-shirt to sleep in?"

"Yes please," you said and let him go to his closet where he pulled out an old tee with the words Raiders written on the front.

"A pirate shirt?" you eyed the logo.

Rafa shot back his head and laughed whole-heartedly, "Damn girl, don't you dare disrespect my favourite football team like that."

"You mean American football team. Your favourite football team better be Chelsea!"

"I'll be partial to Chelsea in soccer if you're partial to the Raiders in football."

"I can pretend I like the pirates," you teased him.

"Oh shut up," he chuckled and walked towards the door, "I'll let you get changed," he said and closed the door behind him.

You disrobed and pulled on his Raiders shirt, glad that it covered you like a dress as you didn't have any dry underwear to wear. A short dress albeit, but still a dress.

"Are you decent?" Rafa asked from the other side of the door.

"Yep," you said and let him in.

"Ah!" he said when he saw you in the Raiders shirt, "my favourite girl sporting my favourite team."

"Don't get any ideas," you grinned as you crawled under the covers.

He stripped down to his boxers and joined you under the covers, pulling you close, "just a bit of friendly cuddling," he whispered against your neck, his hand trailing up and down your sides.

"Okay," you whispered back, enjoying his arms around you.

His fingers brushed from your waist and down your sides all the way below the hem of the t-shirt, fingers coming to a halt on your upper thigh. He lifted his head from his pillow and whispered, "are you not wearing any panties?"

"Uhm no," you said sheepishly, "they were all wet from the pool."

You felt the outline of a bulge emerging against your backside right before he pulled back from you with a groan.

You turned around and faced him, "I didn't mean to torture you on purpose," you snickered.

"I know," he said in a strained voice, "just give me a minute to calm down." He blew out some air and stared determined at the ceiling.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked him after a couple of seconds.

"I'm trying to remember all the players on the Raider's team," he said, "and I definitely try not to think about you on top of me."

A familiar warm feeling spread in your abdomen. Now you were thinking about riding him as well.

"Too much?" he looked over at you when you didn't answer him.

"Ehm," you cleared your throat, "no. No, it's a... nice image," you smiled at him, the heat between your legs growing more and more.

"It got to you too, huh?" he laughed at you.

"Uhm, yeah," you said, "it's probably because we're high."

"That Long Island didn't exactly help either."

"Definitely not. It's too bad we're not allowed to touch..."

"Yeah..." he agreed, "we could... you know... just go to sleep."

"Yeah..." you said. His suggestion from earlier about talking dirty to each other without touching flashed in your mind. It wasn’t as if it would break your code. “Or we could just lie here next to each other and talk for a while..."

"Yeah?" he looked over at you with an excited smile, "what do you want to talk about?"

"Definitely not riding you slowly," you grinned, "or your lips around my nipples."

He gulped, "Yeah, and not your mouth around my cock either. Let's not discuss that."

"Or how you feel when you're inside me," you breathed heavily.

"Oh fuck, no, no we definitely can't talk about that. Or how I'd start off by kissing you all over your body. All the way from the top of your head and down your neck, leaving small teasing kisses down your breasts and all the way down to your ankles. And then back up again to your little hotdog," he said darkly.

"Yeah!" you imagined his warm lips against your skin and felt the goosebumps emerge on your arms, "...and we can't discuss how I'd respond to your teasing lips by pulling your hair while I open my legs for you. Or what you'd do next.”

"Well... in that case, we probably shouldn't discuss how I'd bring out my tongue and taste you while my fingers were slowly working their way in and out of you," he panted. You let out a moan as you arched your back and Rafa continued, "yeah, and you'd moan just like that for me."

"But regardless of how good it felt, I'd still push you away from me and get on my knees in front of you."

"Fuck!" Rafa hissed beside you, fighting hard to keep his hands above the covers.

"I'd take you in my hand and lubricate your glistening head with pre-cum before I slowly move my hand up and down you a couple of times to warm you up."

"I'm already warm, love" Rafa chuckled.

"Good! I'd grab you by the root and I'd lick you all the way from the root to the tip, bringing extra attention to that particularly sensitive spot just below your head," you said slowly, "my soft tongue would be all wet and sloppy as I run it up and down your length while I maintain eye contact with you, showing you that you're in complete control of the situation. And I'd make sure to massage your balls as I continue to pleasure you with my mouth," you breathed heavily, "and you'd look down at me and caress my hair while my mouth was full of you, slowly bucking your hips bringing you further down my throat. And I'd groan around you as you hit the back of my throat, sending vibrations all the way up to your balls."

"Okay, fuck it, I can't take this," Rafa said resolutely and pulled the covers away to reveal the enormous erection tugged away in his boxers. He pulled out his cock and started stroking it slowly in front of you with a few shallow breaths. He shot you a look, "not... against... the rules," he panted as he continued to pump his hand up and down his length.

"Well, if you're doing it, I'm doing it!" you said as you spread your legs, your fingers immediately flying to your core as you looked at Rafa's movements. "What happens next?" you panted.

Rafa took a couple of shallow breaths before he continued, "I pull out of your mouth just before I come down your throat because you know I'm close and you beg me to fill you up instead. So I pick you up from the floor and throw you on the bed and you're looking at me with this hungry look. And I kiss your tits while I slide inside you. And you're so warm and so wet for me," he groaned.

You moved your fingers up and down your slit, fidgeting with your clit with your right hand, while your left hand pushed up the Raider's t-shirt and started massaging your nipple. A small moan escaped your lips as you imagined what Rafa was explaining to you, "and you fill me up completely," you panted, "and you turn me around before you slam into me from behind, smacking my ass and pulling my hair. And you're so good that I grow tight around you, begging for you to let me cum."

"Yes," he groaned.

"- and you pull my arms and fixate them around my back so you have the perfect angle to fuck me while I grow tighter and tighter around you as you slide in and out of me. And I feel this raw heat starting in my stomach and it's spreading fast to the rest of my body as you fuck me faster and harder than you ever have before. And you pull my hair and I moan helplessly for you."

Rafa started moving his hand faster and faster as he was looking at you narrating your own orgasm.

"- and when you finally let me topple over the edge, I scream out your name with my release like this; Rafa," you moaned, "oh Rafa".

"Fffffuck," you heard Rafa hiss beside you right before he came with a loud groan, cum staining his stomach and chest, "fuck!" he continued to pant beside you with his eyes screwed shut, cum still leaking from his tip. His hand was still laced around his throbbing cock, but no longer moving when he desperately opened his eyes and turned his head. "Fuck," he repeated when he looked towards you with your fingers still at work.

"Fuck you're hot!" you panted beside him, looking at him as you drew in sharp breaths, your fingertips slowly entering yourself.

Rafa's eyes flooded with lust once more, "Fuck this," he spat, "come here," he took your hand and pulled you on top of him, your back lying flat against his cum-stained chest. His right hand found your core immediately and he started working his long fingers in and out of you while his left hand was circling your clit.

"Not... part of... the plan," you panted on top of him while his fingers moved in and out of you, his lips kissing your throat and neck.

"Oh, do you want me to stop?" he said and removed both of his hands from your throbbing core.

"No!" you whimpered on top of him, moving around desperate for friction.

"Shut the fuck up then," he whispered darkly against your neck as his hands resumed their positions. He worked like this for a couple of minutes while you writhed and moaned on top of him, your walls tightening around his fingers as he kissed and licked your neck.

"Fucking cum for me," he whispered as he hit your g-spot repeatedly and sent you over the edge crying out his name with pleasure.

His hands moved slower and slower, until he pulled his fingers out of you, his palm travelling all the way up your body, coming to a halt as he cupped your breasts lovingly, "I could get used to this," he whispered, kissing your neck and sending shivers down your spine.

You stayed on top of him for a couple of seconds while he continued to caress your breasts and nipples, kissing your neck occasionally with small sounds of affection.

When you had come down completely from your high, you climbed down from him and positioned yourself under the covers. Rafa pulled on his boxers and snuggled up against you.

"That was not part of the plan," you yawned as he held you tight.

"It won't happen again. Now shut up and go to sleep," Rafa smiled against your neck