#biggie i got a story to tell

[illyrianbitch]

And I'm Thinking About Your Lips

Pairing: Reader x Cassian

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

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

Word Count: 19k (a biggie!)

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

Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Rita's was loud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re taking another round?” 

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

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

“Someone is getting hammered tonight."

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

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

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay, whatever."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're not too bad yourself."

You perked up a bit.

"Yeah?" you asked eagerly.

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

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

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

"But Cass and I-"

Mor whined.

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

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

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

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

You turned to face him, your body slightly swaying.

"See ya later, Commander."

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

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

Stop it. Cassian's brain scolded him.

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

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

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

His musings were abruptly interrupted by a chuckle from Azriel.

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

"What?"

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

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

Azriel down his drink before grabbing Cassian’s attention.

 "Let's get you another drink."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. I couldn’t.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guess I didn’t.” You shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

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

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

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

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

"Gods. Your bed is so damn comfortable."

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

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

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

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

Good ideas be damned.

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

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

“Y/n?” 

You let out a deep breath. “Yes?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, how cute.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” He whispered, his voice low.

“Thank you.”

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

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

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

Were you attracted to Cassian? 

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

"Enjoying the show, babe?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/n! Did you two…?"

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

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

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

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

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

Your cheeks burned brighter.

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

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

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

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And?" Feyre asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amren’s eyes narrowed. “No.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n.” He murmured.

“Yes?”

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

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

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

“Like what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” You whimpered, “I want to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ausetkmt]

Everybody’s got a story to tell, but few bios, memoirs or anecdotes are worthy of being rehashed like The Notorious B.I.G.’s for the better part of the last three decades. By now, plenty of us are well-versed in the cliff-notes and general details: Local Brooklyn hustler and underdog finds success as a rap star, puts his crew on, reaches unfathomable heights of fame and survives a high-profile beef before being gunned down in cold blood before reaching his prime years.

But, with an origin as layered and rich as Biggie’s, there’s always more to learn, particularly about the man behind the Versace frames and the music, which we’re reminded of with the release of Biggie: I Got a Story to Tell, the new Netflix documentary detailing the rapper’s youth and the events leading up to the release of his debut album, Ready to Die. Built around rare footage filmed by Biggie’s close friend, Damion “D-Roc” Butler, and interviews with his loved ones including his mother, Voletta Wallace; friends Suif “Gutta” Jackson and Hubert Sam; Junior M.A.F.I.A. members Lil Cease and Chico Del Vec; jazz musician Donald Harrison and more; Biggie: I Got a Story to Tellis a candid look into the life and times of a certified rap phenomenon that gives new context to his origins. The project was executive produced by close friend and Bad Boy collaborator Sean “Diddy” Combs, as well.

As the annual anniversary of The Notorious B.I.G.’s death looms closer, the doc arrives right on time to celebrate the life, music, and legacy of one of the greatest rap artists to ever step in a vocal booth or rock the mic.

Here are nine intriguing facts from Biggie: I Got a Story to Tell that even his most die-hard fans probably never knew. Peep them below.

1. His Connection To Clinton Hill

The Notorious B.I.G. may have represented Brooklyn as a whole to the fullest, but the late rap icon has long been synonymous with the borough’s Bedford-Stuyvesant section, one of the more notorious and crime-ridden neighborhoods in New York City. However, while Biggie frequented Bed-Stuy and became a local fixture during his teenage and adult years, he actually was raised in Clinton Hill, a working-class neighborhood bordering the Stuy that was infamous in its own right. St. James Place, the block Biggie grew up on, may have been a mere few blocks from the streets he ultimately rose to fame on, but as a youth, Clinton Hill and Bed-Stuy appeared to be worlds away from another in his eyes.

2. His Family’s Roots In Jamaica

Caribbean culture is embedded within hip hop — from the art to the figures in it — with The Notorious B.I.G. being among the most decorated rap artists of all-time with West Indian roots. Despite being born in Brooklyn shortly after her arrival in the United States, Biggie’s mother, a Jamaican immigrant, made an effort to keep him in tune with the culture of her homeland. Going on annual trips to Jamaica during the summer throughout his childhood, Biggie soaked up the lifestyle and the atmosphere of the island, where he attended local jams and concerts with his uncle, Dave Wallace, one of his earliest influences as a musician and creative.

3. His Love of Country Music 

Hip Hop played a prominent role in shaping The Notorious B.I.G.’s identity, but his interests extended beyond that box due to sounds playing within his household. A lover of ballads and country westerns, Voletta’s musical taste was in stark contrast to what one may expect from the mother of one of the greatest rap artists to live, but rubbed off on her son, who once admitted to not being able to fall asleep without listening to country music, a revelation shared by close friend and classmate Hubert Sam.

4. His Favorite Rapper

Being “Your Favorite Rapper’s Favorite Rapper” is a cocksure claim that has been made numerous times on wax and otherwise throughout hip hop history. But, I Got a Story to Tell actually provides a large segment of rap fans with Biggie’s idol. During the documentary, close friend Suif “Gutta” Jackson reveals that The Notorious B.I.G.’s favorite rap artist was fellow Brooklynite Big Daddy Kane.

5. The Junior M.A.F.I.A. Member Who Introduced Biggie To The Crack Game

Within the music world, Junior M.A.F.I.A. is viewed as a rap crew, but according to several figures featured in I Got a Story to Tell, it doubled as the family that helped transform The Notorious B.I.G. from a timid, yet studious youngster into a street hustler. Chico Del Vec was key in that evolution, as he was the first person to introduce Biggie to the crack game and influence him to become a dealer himself during the late ‘80s.

6. The First Rap Albums He Owned

Coming of age right as hip hop was blossoming as a culture, The Notorious B.I.G. was an avid rap fan, as he and Sam consumed the music, fashion, and lingo every chance they could get. While Biggie’s mother was far from well-versed in rap, she inadvertently played a pivotal role in fostering his love for the genre with her purchase of the debut albums of Run D.M.C. and The Fat Boys in 1984. These tapes were the first two rap albums owned by the BK phenomenon, who took wrinkles from each act to eventually incorporate into his own style years after the fact.

7. Where He Recorded His First Demo As A Rapper

Back when he was rhyming under the name MC CWest, The Notorious B.I.G. teamed up with Sam to record a demo tape. With granted permission by their parents, the two combined their allowance money savings to book studio time at Funky Slice Studios, a local recording hub in downtown Brooklyn, where the pair recorded their first song. Rhyming over the Toto “Africa” instrumental, the recording, which was Biggie’s first as a full-fledged rapper, was an early indication of his talent.

8. Roland Young Being The Inspiration for “Miss U”

At the beginning of the Life After Death cut “Miss U,” Biggie pays homage to his late friend “O.” I Got a Story to Tell delves into the inner-workings of Biggie’s relationship with his deceased homie, otherwise known as Roland “Olie” Young, one of his earliest champions who inspired him to pursue a career in rap. Unfortunately, O, who was killed in 1992 in the Brownsville section of Brooklyn following a drug dispute with his uncle, Carl “I-God” Bazemore, was unable to see Biggie reach the pinnacle of fame. Nevertheless, he remained a central figure in his story.

9. The Backstory To Biggie’s Legendary Rap Battle On Bedford Ave

Prior to the internet, The Notorious B.I.G. went viral in the streets via the first clip capturing the then-teenage rapper verbally assaulting an unsuspecting foe on mic. The video, which was filmed on Bedford Avenue in Bed Stuy, features Biggie rocking the crowd and helped create the buzz that caught the attention of local DJ 50 Grand and legendary spinner Mister Cee. However, what many fans do not know is the opponent that he was facing in that particular battle or the backstory of how it started. After getting heckled by a local rapper named William “Supreme” McClune, whose rhymes are featured in the doc, Biggie rips his adversary to shreds, establishing his rep as the hottest rap prospect in Bed-Stuy.

[exhaslo]

Hello! This is something kind of niche but I was wondering if you could write a Pornstar!Miguel x Pornstar!Fem!Reader, where he is a new pornstar and meets with her the day before their shoot. He’s like super sweet to her and they have an informal hangout/date to like be comfortable around each other. Reader tries their best to ease his worry him cuz he seems kinda shy, but the day of their shoot he’s a total freak in the sheets and it totally catches her off guard? Dirty talk, dom and all.

I love your writing so much and I know you’ll do a great job writing whatever your heart desires for this one! Thx in advance <333

No lie this sounds cute as fuck! Here we go!

Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, rough sex, dirty talk

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

It was another beautiful day. You were ready to receive your next paycheck, but first, you had to help the new guy. A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you walked into a popular coffee shop. You were actually excited for this secret meetup. Normally, it was informal to meet your coworkers before a shoot, but this new guy? Oh, he was your type!

You were a pornstar. It is a long story on how you got into the business, but you were good at acting. A little too good. As you waited in line, you let out a soft sigh. While the paychecks were nice, you were really ready for something new. Cue, your manager making you a teacher and setting you up with newbies.

"Two extra shots of espresso." You muttered, trying to avoid groaning at the thought.

Despite the struggle of your job, you were eager for tomorrow. The new porn star, Miguel, was going to be your next partner. You saw his file and the man was huge and good looking. He was the one who actually asked to meet you in person. It was cute how shy he sounded over the phone.

"(Y/N)?" Miguel waves slowly, sitting in a corner table. You approached him with your drink,

"Hi, Miguel!" You said with a chirp, "My god, you're so tall."

"Sorry," Miguel went to shake your hand before immediately sitting down towards your comment.

You sat across from him, admiring his features. The man chose to become a porn star than a model? He was going to be an instant lady killer! Hopefully his acting was decent.

"Thanks again for meeting me. As you can tell, I'm a little nervous with this being my first shoot and all." Miguel said. You smiled,

"It's no biggie. It's kind of fun breaking the rules like this. Why don't we just chat about ourselves, get more comfortable with each other? I'm sure it will help you out a lot." You offered.

Miguel took the suggestion and the two of you spoke for hours. There was a chemistry there and you sensed it. You were disappointed when you had to leave for the night. Miguel parted ways with and kiss to your hand. He was such a gentleman! You were already imagining the slow and soft sex he was going to give you tomorrow.

It would be different for sure, but you were looking forward to it. Hopefully, Miguel won't disappoint you like all of your other coworkers. It was frustrating to work in the porn industry, but could never cum in your own videos. You always had to fake an orgasm and pleasure yourself later.

"Let's not think of the negative! Just...look forward for tomorrow," You told yourself.

-----------

"Alright, you know the rules. First shoot, newbie gets to pick the theme. We will go from there afterwards," Your manager called out to the crew.

You glanced at Miguel, seeing him nervously look around, "Hey, it's going to be okay. I promise I won't bite, unless you want me too."

"Haha," Miguel smiled towards you, "Is it okay if we do something simple?"

"You get to pick. Why not something that will get you in the mood?" You suggested and showed him the costume room, "Is there something you want to see me wear?"

Miguel looked around, his eyes sparkling at some of the outfits. He glanced back at you,

"I know what I want to do."

---------

"Mhm~ I don't have any money for this massage~ Is there any other way I can pay you?"

You laid against a soft bed, spreading your naked legs apart. Your gaze towards Miguel as you slowly rubbed your own clit. Miguel had chosen a massage sex scene. Something where he could feel your body to get you prepped. How kind and generous of him. You hummed sweetly, faking a moan as you dove your fingers towards your hole.

"No money? That's fine, I'll just have to massage one more place before you can leave."

You're eyes widen as Miguel removed his pants. He hovered over you, stealing your lips in a forceful kiss before his hands roamed your body. You pressed yourself against him, your hand heading towards his cock. Miguel grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head before growling lowly,

"I'm giving the massage. Not you, chica (girl)"

For once, you felt a shiver run down your spine. What happened to the shy man from yesterday? You're eyes widen as Miguel's fingers started to enter your pussy. He started with one, stretching you out more than some of your coworker's dicks. You raised your hips slightly, wanting to help him get more access, but once again he pinned you down.

"Tsk, tsk, do you come onto all your massage therapists?" Miguel spat lowly, "Being such a slut?"

You shivered once more to his cruel tone. He sucked against your breasts while another finger entered your pussy. Miguel's fingers were wandering around your gummy walls, searching for that sweet spot. This was different. You're eyes widen once he curled his fingers, making you moan for real.

"That's right. Pay your bill in full." Miguel whispered.

You gasped lowly as Miguel pumped his fingers against that spot. He removed himself from your breasts, keeping you held down. His thumb pressed against your clit, causing you to squirm under him. Miguel just kept making eye contact with you. It was as if he wanted to watch you break because of him.

"What a slutty face. You like this kind of massage right?"

"Y-Yes." You whimpered, feeling your body burn with pleasure.

This was actually happening. You felt a tight knot growing in your lower abdomen. Miguel's fingers only went faster. It wasn't long until he entered a third finger that really made you break. You arched your back, moaning and whining as he wrecked your pussy with just his fingers alone. With one more curl, you finally felt that tight tension burst.

"You're getting my work area dirty, that's going to cost extra."

You were panting softly from your intense orgasm. Miguel withdrew his fingers, causing you to shiver slightly. You were feeling the need, the want. Your pussy was throbbing and begging to be filled. Miguel was the first person who actually made you cum. You gasped, forcing a smile as you saw him position his dick right against your folds.

He was fucking big! You spread your legs, teasing your entrance for him. This was just part of the job. Miguel grunted as he grabbed your legs, placing them over his shoulders. He bit against your inner thigh before pushing his dick inside you. You whimpered, arching your back as you pretended to be fine.

Miguel's dick was stretching you out. This was a first. His dick felt hot and strong. Once he was fully inside you, Miguel pinched your clit, causing you to moan and whine. He smirked, pounding the life out of your pussy, breaking you down even more.

"So fucking tight. You don't get much exercise here, do you?" He mocked.

You moaned in response, focusing a little too much on how good this felt. His dick beating against your pussy with each rough and wet slap of his hips. His tip kissing your cervix each time, threatening to remind you that this was his moment. You were his fuck toy. You whined, your eyes nearly rolling back as Miguel rubbed your clit again.

"You're going to have to come back. I'm going to have to remind this pussy that it owes me payment." Miguel grunted as he went faster.

You felt your growing orgasm once more. Miguel held your body down against the bed, pressing his dick further inside you. Your mouth formed an 'o' as you started to see stars. Whimpers and moans were all you were able to say as you cam hard against his dick. Even after a second orgasm, you still could not believe that this was happening.

"That's a good fucking sign. My little slut is finally relaxing," Miguel spat as he griped your hips tightly, cumming inside you.

Your body trembled as you felt his hot, sticky load fill you. With a pop, Miguel pulled out, leaving your pussy a mess. A mixture of your juices and his cum pouring out of your abused hole.

"Cut! Good job (Y/N), Miguel! I think that's going to be a killer!" You managed yelled out.

"Are you okay?" Miguel asked as he helped you up. You panted softly, regaining your composure,

"Y-Yeah,"

"I didn't go overboard, did I? You're not hurt?" He kept asking, giving you a towel to wrap yourself with.

"You did amazing. I'm the opposite of hurt," You told him as the two of you walked towards the showers, "In fact, you did something none of my other coworkers could do."

"I did?"

"Yes, and I would love to be your partner for ongoing shoots. If not, then...maybe we can meet outside of work?" You whispered the last part to him, feeling slightly embarrassed. Miguel just smiled,

"I would love that."

You watched Miguel enter the shower first, wondering to which part he agreed to. Unsure, you followed him into the shower, still daydreaming about his dick.

You found out afterwards that Miguel agreed to both.

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

I hope you liked it!!! Not really sure how porn videos actually work, haha

[ratzmatazz]

I think I got possessed by charlie chaplin and the only way I can tell this story is by greentext I hope you all understand

>be me (20 year old fool) >live in nyc >walking around and realize I haven’t eaten and also need to do some work so I decide to go to a cafe >walk around for like 30 minutes until I finally find one, looks great very peaceful plenty of people working >walk inside order bagel the guy behind the counter is french(???) and he talks slowly but my brain is on autopilot so I look like an asshole who talks too fast because nyc cafes are usually a quick-time event and I'm disrupting the cafe zen I guess >panic order first bagel I see to redeem myself >ice coffee and loaded bagel (whatever that is) is 20 dollars altogether >whatever the place looks nice for work >barista gives me a number stand for my bagel and I walk away and stand in the main space before realizing I need to still get my coffee? Come back looking even more like an asshole >coffee is in incredibly inconvenient glass cup and filled to the brim too >sugar station is right next to barista so he watches me now pour an obscene amount of sugar syrup but very very slowly >sugar syrup pourer is mildly broken and every time I try to get it to flow faster than "pouring cold tar" it squirts a pump onto the table >sit down >realize I’m sitting in their fucking decorative ~aesthetic~ chair and not a real fucking table >spend 2 minutes slowly dragging a table closer before realizing I look insane and moving all my stuff >still sitting in decorative chair during all of this >guy talking to his friend nearby is watching me and trying not to laugh at me out loud >preparing myself for putting the table back and admitting defeat >do not take coffee off of table >stand up for this but the table is lighter than expected and I tilt the table when I try to scoot it back >coffee leans slowly and cartoonishly close to falling over but I quickly scoot the table over and put it down before it can fully tip and ruin me forever >do this routine of up and down table 3 fucking times moving it back >sit down in shame at real table >guy talking to his friend subtly angles himself to be watching me over his friend's shoulder >take out laptop to work and it’s out of power >no biggie I’ll plug it in I even sat next to four power outlets :) >try first one >no good >try next one >all four outlets don’t work. >want to leave but still have bagel so maybe life is good >bagel arrives >no fucking cream cheese on my bagel. >lady who brings out my bagel is an elderly old-school nyc lady who looks at me with barely hidden disgust for my unknowing bagel monstrosity of 99% spring mix, warm cucumber slices, three pieces of bacon, and a fried egg >bagel is too tall for the second bagel piece to go on top of the bagel >trash can is right next to barista so they’ll see me throw out the untouched shameful top of the bagel too >table is also too small for the bagel plate and my laptop and too cramped for me to easily put it away >eat with laptop on lap (top) (haha) >bite bagel >runny yolk >egg bursts >YOLK ALL OVER LAPTOP. >guy still watching me >tiny courtesy napkin to wipe up my egg shame. >humiliating smooth jazz is playing during all of this. >charlie chaplin's ghost finally releases me from my torment.

[pukanavis]

Fuyume Hanamura Idol Story 1

ーThe Yumenosaki Academy library, two years since the establishment of ES.

Fuyume: Excuse me?

Are there any fairy tales here…?

Oh, the shelf over there is the section for picture books and stuff?

Thank you for your help.

~...♪

(Ah, she was right. Yume recognises a bunch of the books over here.)

(They’ve got a good selection to choose from but the categorising is a mess. They’re just randomly thrown onto the shelf without any care for alphabetical order or release date.)

(Oh well…apparently no one has any love for fairy tales…)

(‘The Little Mermaid, ‘Momotaro’, ‘Tale of The Bamboo-Cutter’, ‘Snow White’, ‘Urashima Taro’, ‘Cinderella’—)

(Oh! It might not be the one Yume was looking for but he’s in the mood to read Cinderella today.)

(This story is another one that Yume adores.)

(It’s a tale about love being rewarded.)

…♪

Fuyume: …? Hm? Oh, uhm, you’re that nice person from earlier—did you need something?

You were so kind to Yume earlier, so he’d be happy to give you some company.

Huh? The Yumenosaki Academy library is off-limits to anyone that doesn’t work for or attend the school?

How could you tell that Yume isn’t a student here?

Ooh, cause Yume isn’t wearing the uniform…?

That makes sense…no biggie, Yume will be sure to wear the school uniform next time.

Yume is really good at sewing, so it won’t be a problem…fufu ♪

Huh? That’s not the issue?

Yume doesn't like anything you’re saying right now.

Here he was thinking you were a nice person.

Fuyume: Huh? Yume’s name is Fuyume Hanamura.

And you are? …Anzu-san? You’re a graduate of Yumenosaki?

You’re here at your old school to do some producer work, huh? It made you feel nostalgic so you’ve been walking around the grounds…? 

Oh, is that the case? Hmm…♪

Then, aren’t you and Yume in the same boat? Yume goes to a middle school separate from Yumenosaki and you’ve already graduated…right?

It sounds like neither of us are allowed to be here.

Let's work together then, okay? If you pretend you never saw Yume, he won’t go around yelling, ‘There’s a trespasser in here!’ …♪

What do they call it? A contract, business, bargaining? Let’s do something like that…♪

If you’re willing to comply, Yume will leave you be. He isn't particularly interested in you anyway.

Yume is just here to read some fairy tales.

…♪

Fuyume: Huh? Did you need something else? You want to know what Yume is reading?

Ehehe, you’re interested in fairy tales? Sounds like we can get along.

Ehehehehehe. Yume is just reading a picture book about the massively popular princess, Cinderella. Though, he actually wanted to read something else. 

Maybe you’ve heard of it? For some reason, no one in Japan knows about it—it’s a fairy tale about an amethyst. 

Even if you don’t know the story, maybe you’ve heard this quote before?

—”The amethyst broke into pieces.”

Fufu. I guess you haven’t heard of it. Oh well.

Basically, it’s a story about an ordinary girl that comes across an amethyst that can grant any wish that she desires.

In fact, she actually fuses with the amethyst and becomes a crystalised-human of sorts.

It’s a curse put on her by an evil witch…ehehehehe ♪

The plot is kinda similar to ‘The Happy Prince’. Actually, something like ‘Arabian Nights’ or ‘The Monkey’s Paw’ might be a better match.

After transforming into the wish-granting amethyst, the girl wishes for her crush to pay attention to her, or to become better friends with people—

With each little wish she makes, the amethyst uses its power and gradually begins to crack—

Aah…♪ Eventually, her body becomes so fractured that it crumbles away and she loses all of the love and friends that she had been granted.

Her loved ones view her like a monster and chase her away in fear.

After everything, the final wish she makes is—

Fuyume: —Ah, wait, Yume thinks you should read it for yourself to find out what happens next. Spoilers are a crime!

Ehehe. If there’s one thing Yume can say, it’s that he empathises with the amethyst girl and even admires her.

At the end of it all, the final remaining piece of her—

Becomes a ring that showers the wedding between her best friend and the one she loved in joy.

After everything, her final wish is—wait, oops, Yume just realised how much he’s spoiling. He’s really really sorry.

You don’t mind? Really? You’re super kind, you know?

Ehehe. You see, Yume shares the same wish as the girl who became a ring.

—-“I wish for your life to be full of joy.”

During her final moments, the girl whose selfish asks led her to break apart used her last wish to bring someone else happiness. 

Ehehe. Yume doesn’t have the power to grant wishes but he’ll do everything he can to achieve that too.

For example, Esu goes to Yumenosaki so Yume snuck in to watch over him in secret.

Huh? Does Yume love Esu?

It depends how you define ‘love’ but yep, Yume loves Esu.

But it's sad, isn't it? The reality we live in isn’t a fairytale.

—The amethyst already shattered long ago.

[puppetwoman17]

I’ve been wanting to talk about this but I thought it would sound weird and kinda Mary Sue like! Glad to hear that I’m not the only one.

I’m very adamant on Cap being a pillar in not only the magic community(cause of his Champion role obviously) but the hero community as well. He’s well-known for his heroics and impossible stories about battling sentient worms and being diplomatic with alien dinosaurs.

He’s also loved for the advice he gives. All Billy wants to do is bring smiles to these peoples’ days. He dishes out advice like it’s candy and always sees the good in people. He’s great at looking at situations through multiple viewpoints and understanding everyone’s thought processes. This in particular helps with the Superman and Superboy problem. He tells both of them individually that both of their hardships are valid. Clark is allowed to feel violated because his DNA was stolen and mutated in a way that was against his consent. Connor never asked to be created, always wanting Superman’s love but never receiving it.

They reconcile, and Billy doesn’t think much of it, because it’s what anyone would do, right? No biggie. He even does something similar with Red Arrow, convincing him that he’s not just a clone. He’s his own person. He built his own life. He has his own achievements. He shouldn’t feel bad for any of this because none of it was in his control. And Roy is so damn grateful because it feels like a weight has been taken off his shoulders.

Marvel just shrugs. No biggie.

He talks Leaguers through both personal and professional problems and guides them onto a simple, honest path because adults make everything so damn complicated so why can’t you just sit THE FUCK DOWN—

Ahem.

So he helps with that too. No biggie, right? Just another good deed.

He expands his one-way business to other teams too, like the JSA, the YJ team, the Teen Titans, etc. Spends time with each of them, helps them solve their own problems whether they’re big or small.

No biggie, right?

Fucking. Wrong.

The world of heroes absolutely adores him! The other hero teams look to him like he’s the cool uncle. Despite no one knowing jackshit about his personal life, they trust him wholeheartedly. They know he’s got their back.

That’s actually what hurts, tho. Whenever anyone asks him about his life outside the cape, he gets tongue-tied. Panicked. Silent. Doesn’t say a word until a new topic is brought up and then changes wheels like it’s nothing. It hurts, knowing he doesn’t trust them. They know it’s stupid, he never had obligations to tell them anything about the real him, but it stings. Where does he go when he isn’t Cap? Does he have family? A lover? Hobbies? Pets? Why is he like a brick wall with them? Did they do something wrong?

Things get especially annoying when characters like Booster Gold(from the future) and Doctor Fate(Lord of Order, basically on the same pedestal as the Champion) know his identity and don’t even bother to hide that fact. Leaguers will frequently catch Booster making knowing jabs at the Captain, winking and saying strange things that get the Captain riled up and shaking his head profusely. Nabu is no help either, with Leaguers catching him and Marvel quietly conversing. When someone, say, Barry, shows up, Marvel stops talking.

It fucking hurts. A lot. And Billy doesn’t even notice the looks of jealousy cast at his future teammate and fellow Lord by his coworkers. The YJ team is not taking that shit because that is their den dad. Diana doesn’t appreciate that these strangers know more about her brother than she does. Flash is all confused and slightly annoyed because when are they gonna play another prank on Hal? Is he just gonna keep talking to those weirdos all day? And the next?

Billy’s honestly just happy to be here. He never thought he’d get past the age of ten, so doing all of this, helping these heroes while learning more about himself, is just great. He’s speedrunning his way through every moody, self-righteous, hurt, traumatized hero with no sweat on his back.

So yeah, he is beloved and he doesn’t even know it. You betcha that when Cap’s identity is revealed, everyone goes full mama bear/papa bear/protective older brother or sister on him. No way is he leaving without supervision.

Nabu and Booster are rolling their eyes cause hello? That’s the Champion of Magic. If anything, he’s the one they should be worried about.

Yeah, they are politely asked to leave after that. Anyhow Billy, wanna go get some hot chocolate 😘😍

Excuse the word vomit.

[sea-of-dust]

Hello c:

can I request Akira and Ryuji with a f!s/o who is going through her period

(I'm suffering the wrath of cramps 😭)

This is the worst....

Ryuji and Joker/Akira x Fem!Reader

Summary: you're on your period with them trying to help you

Notes: HI Hi annon!, dw I feel ya 💀 ALSO I GOT THE OTHER MESSAGE IM SORRY I MADE YOU WAIT SO LONG 🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️

Warnings: mentions of blood, the hell of period craps

He has futaba he already knows what it must be like for you maybe even worse, so he brings you stuff you like in hopes you don't turn into a fire breathing dragon and spit fire (futaba)

Offers to do your homework for you or help you with it. He wants you to rest, don't stress about it too much not like he memmorised your handwriting for this exact purpose. So what if they aren't causing you that much pain you rest watch him speed run homework.

He lays his head on your stomach sometimes, this could lead to teasing unless you were actually about to make futabas story real. "Hey leave my girlfriend alone stomach" "stop qouting that!" Getting you to laugh made it worth it

He will lay with you even if you don't ask you could take a nap and wake up with him on his phone next to you. "You're awake?" Scooing over with a chipper grin on his face he shows you his phone "take a peak at this" as he shows you the video you don't notice him sneaking his arm under your torso to pull you into his chest. "Felt that" "awe" you feel him lean over you to kiss your cheek "I woulda got you this time sure of it" smiling weakly you kiss him back "not a chance"

He does cook for you during these times. The godsend of his cooking always make you forget about the pain and misfortune of these unfortunate times. "I can spoon feed you if you want" "YES"

He looks like his brains about to explode when he learns your on your period. "Ohhh that time of the month. No biggie!" Until you didn't show up to school one day because of your cramps

He did come running to your house with pads and the plush you kept hugging when you stayed in his. "Miss l/n it's an emergency please let me stay with your daughter!" "Oh you must be Ryuji! She talks so much about you!" Her eyes water as she fondly tells him about the times you spoke about him. It was nice but what was great was sneaking away mid rant. "Y/n!" "Ryuji?!"

He takes oddly great care of you, offering you food and bringing a game with him. "You brought alot-" "well yea I didn't know what you were in the mood for so I brought everything I knew ya liked" "They're gonna last me years..." "perfect!"

Only lays next to you if you ask him to. Feels like if he moves the wrong way it'll make you uncomfortable. So when you eventually get him to lay next to you he's just a board, his mind comming up with all sorts of theories for what would happen if he even breathed wrong.

So the next day you came to school the guy was with you every step. "Ryuji your classrooms next door" "what if you pass out" "they aren't that bad worse case I end up vomiting" "what if there's no bag!" You sigh patting his shoulder "listen I'll be fine" it's gonna take the bell to ring for him to finally give in. Doesn't mean he isn't walking you home keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.

[tamas-love]

（ 제목 ）THINKING ABOUT.. BEST-FRIEND!SUNOO.

PRESENT.⠀⟡​⠀best friend sunoo thoughts.

（ 선우 ） — pairing = fem!reader x best-friend!sunoo ୨୧ warning = none, just cutie sunoo and charms~ ୨୧ no count.

a/n : for my pookie @uoalirie BUT also for anon !! instead of a one-shot i just did points.. remember to reblog, like, and ask for more!!

click me! ↓

best-friend!sunoo who you first met in the hallway on your way to class, he asked you where the music room was--and since you were on your way there he followed you. best-friend!sunoo who began to sit with you at lunch because you two had the same schedules, sometimes buying you snacks from the vending machine. best-friend!sunoo who always went to the nail salon with you just to sit there and talk the whole time you're getting your nails done, as well as being the one who picks your nail design. best-friend!sunoo who you told all your crushes about and he rated them on a 1-10 scale. best-friend!sunoo who was also your wingman and always tried to get you with your crushes if he thought they were good enough for you. best-friend!sunoo who you had study session with that lasted til late at night and early in the morning, and when you two realized the time you'd quickly get to bed and join in an (platonic) snuggle together, listening to asmr to fall asleep. best-friend!sunoo who you gossiped with on the way to school/class, and when the tea was right behind you sunoo would scream "fuck no!" and run off with you. best-friend!sunoo who took you to the rooftop at lunch after your boyfriend broke up with you because he knew you didn't want to cry in front of people, and always offered you tissues and his hoodie for your comfort. best-friend!sunoo who helped you dye your hair blonde after you got over the breakup, and to not make you feel embarrassed for showing up at school blonde, he'd dye his own to match yours (secretly to surprise you). best-friend!sunoo who sat with you on the coach bus on your way to the field trip destination so you could sit by the window and cuddle his arm comfortably, as well as so you two could eat (big backs) and watch dramas. best-friend!sunoo who (even though he's a boy) kept a few pads in his bag just in case you have an emergency, and when blood leaks through your skirt he always wraps his sweater around your waist to cover it up. best-friend!sunoo who had his wallet on him at ALL times when he was around you, knowing that when an ice cream truck pops up you two are running like biggies. (the only biggie here is ME for that shaved ice i'm running fr) best-friend!sunoo who, for prom, set you up with his homeboy who you liked and scored you a date. after prom, sunoo saw you two in the hall making out and quickly minded his business instead of butting in to get you home.. "yeah.. he'll get her home." he brushed it off, running away (not wanting to deal with ALLAT love.) best-friend!sunoo who you came to, sobbing your tears out after seeing a sad puppy story. in which, he had to comfort you and tell you that it's not real because why the fuck was the dog talking?? (your dumbass believed it) best-friend!sunoo who you went to the mall with, skipping around stores and buying all the matching pajamas. best-friend!sunoo who, one day, invited you over to his house on the day of your birthday and surprised you with a big birthday party after ignoring you and acting annoyed with you the whole day. of course, you were crying in the school bathroom after he ignored you so to make up, he fed you cake and let you open your presents. best-friend!sunoo who you graduated with at the top of your grade, you being the valedictorian and sunoo being salutatorian, and even while you two were going to two seperate colleges, still managed to be the ultimate power duo and meet up every weekend!

© tamas-love on tumblr, © tamas-love on wattpad ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open.⠀⦂ ⠀@nheyri , @uoalirie , @moonpri , @minaz-luv

[evilfrogcereal29]

Mmmm so high, don't smoke kids the bong tells you awful things....

Can't stop tginking about aware!cod character aus. Where cod is just a video game and ur just a super fan, but for some reason in ur copy of the game, all (or only some you can decide) of them are aware, and like, deeply begging for you to pick them. They crave your attention.

Bonus points if it becomes a yandere/obsessed situation (i guess the term yandere has become outdated and offensive but im not sure? Idk i had someone ask me not to use it once cause they said it has bad orgins....but i still see stuff labeled 'yandere![character here]' stories everywhere, so idk if its still appropriate to use but idk any other way to put it except obessed but i think that still doesnt get the point across well... I'm weed rambling, someone lmk if its still ok to use yandere... If not mb, I'll use a different term, back to sin)

They start making their way out of the game into your entire pc/console. Waking up to find your screen turned on, with cod loaded up, despite you definitely being sure that you 1- turned the tv off, and 2- didn't even play cod today.

Oooohhh god the days you don't play cod are HELL for them. Please please please play everyday :( they get so lonely without you. Its so cold and lonely inside here. Please (y/n).

But since cod is kinda... Shit... Nowadays... Just being a bit honest its gotten cash-grabby....you play less and less, and they know its not their fault, but it makes them ache. They need to get out of here. Before you forget about them forever. PLEASE. don't forget about them. If they get into your phone somehow (you had your phone charger plugged into the same outlet your pc/console was plugged into, they just took a short jump and hop across into your device :] no biggie) it makes them so happy when they see you liking posts about them on Tumblr ^\\^!!!! Especially when the posts are... Rather naughty...

Always listening in on your, watching you from your pc webcam or phone camera.

Imagine if they leave the game their model dissapears too... So the dissapointment you might feel if you load uo the game again, and think your game is glitched when, seemingly no matter how many times you relaunch, uninstall and reinstall, and reset the game entirely, the character(s) won't show up :(( what the fuck man?

If you buy another copy there won't be any issues actually :) these ones arent alive!! Although... I can't promise your safety much longer, as doing this is a surefire way to piss the hell out of whatever character is on you, probably spending most of their time at this point in your phone, or if you have an apple or techy watch, that, since its close to your skin and they love that! But playing with an unaware version of them is so... Jealously inducing. You were dumbfounded when your entire screen turned off, and every light around you started flickering wildly... What is going on? Maybe you shouls call an electrician? (He won't be able to remove them, nothing will)

They'll find a way out one day♥️ its just a matter of time sweetheart, or maybe they'll pull you into their world, being digital ain't so bad darling... let them show you... Get closer to the screen.

It does not help my bf got me a bundle with nikto, his normal skin, AND his powercell skin... So im brainrotmaxxing currently.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk☺️ love u guys /p (you may think the /p stands for platonic but NO, its standing for Passing out...goodnite)

[elizais]

hey elizai!! can u do smthn like what event starts the topic of kids and whether they want them or not with bsd boys? (pref dazai, chuuya, and tecchou! they are cutiesss) thanks !!

"kids?"

featuring.. dazai, chuuya, nd tecchou! warnings.. ?? i don't get to like reader x ----- talking ab having kids, jst bcs i feel like that would set me up for "blah blah blah wouldn't want kids, but blah blah would!!"

in all honesty, osamu and you had never truly thought about kids. maybe intense debates on what names you hated, compared to ones you thought were cute - but other than that? not really.

so, on an average day at the agency a married couple were brought in to talk about something they witnessed the other day. kunikida and tanizaki were going to speak to them and they had to bring along their small children as they didn't have a babysitter for that moment.

it was honestly no biggie for anyone at the agency, a pair of twins might lighten up the dreary wednesday anyways. when they walked in, everyone greeted them (aside from ranpo, who was in another city for a few days.)

a boy by the name of isamu and a girl by the name of hana were left under your supervision with the help of atsushi. their parents were whisked away to the conference room to explain what happened the other day.

"so, what are your names?" atsushi smiled at the pair as you walked over to osamu at his desk. the two didn't seem to respond to the boy who was crouched down at eye level for the children.

hana and isamu wandered over to your boyfriend and you and asked quite a few questions. chipping atsushi's pride slightly at the kids not wanting to speak to him.

hana pulled on your boyfriend's sleeve before asking him "what's your name?" quietly. osamu looked at her, smiling and ruffling her hair, "osamu dazai, and you both?"

"isamu! he's almost got the same name as you!" the girl giggled at her shy brother. the boy seemed to gravitate towards you more than your boyfriend. "hana.. they told us to be quiet whilst they speak to the detectives!" isamu scolded his sister.

"oh, we're not actually detectives!" osamu begun, shocking you with how good he was with kids. "we're superheroes.." he whispered to the two kids.

you giggled as he began making up stories for the two, and them asking off topic questions.

"how is the moon still in the sky when it's daytime, dazai?"

"because i put it there. duh."

"do you and that lady have kids?"

"not right now."

"why are some people blonde and others brunette?"

"because blonde haired people control the weather and brunettes control night and day."

and soon enough, they went home with their parents. but that 'not right now' lingered until you arrived home with osamu. laying on the couch with his arm around your shoulders, he whispered into your hair.

"today was fun with those two." a sentence that he kissed into the crown of your head, a simple hum in response from you. something was on your mind.

"what are you thinking about, love?" he flicked your forehead. "if we had kids.. y'know?" you whispered.

"well i think kyouka does look up to you an awful lot, do you not see that?" he readjusted to face you. sitting cross-legged on the couch facing each other, hands in his, you spoke. "yeah, i do. 'm just thinking. i do love the family at the agency though."

dazai elaborated for you.

"fukuzawa's the grandad with like the secret lore he doesn't tell anyone about.. yosano's the wine aunt.. ranpo is the uncle that gets too into board games.."

you interrupted him, "atsushi's the housecat that racks up a fortune in medical bills."

as dazai was laughing, you added on, "and you and chuuya are the in-laws that end up drunkenly fighting." to which he nodded through laughter.

"yeah but chuuya makes a fortune so we can't frustrate him too much.. he has to pay for the family get-togethers.." he giggled.

chuuya was no stranger to young parents in the port mafia. today was one of the most important days of the year for the port mafia, a big deal was being signed today so all hands had to be on deck to make sure there was no funny business.

he called you in to keep him company while he was bundled up in his office reading over hundreds of pages of paperwork. you were lying on the couch, helping him by rereading what he had read to make sure he hadn't missed anything.

"chuu? do you want a drink?" you asked, finishing another dozen pages.

"if it isn't too much of a hassle, doll." he sighed, looking thankful at your offer. promptly, you stood up and closed the office door behind you and made your way to a staff room on whatever floor his office was on.

you nodded to the stressed workers that saw you, knowing how much chuuya speaks about you to them. you walked into the staff room and saw a young child.

"hello, can you help me, please?" the young boy spoke. chocolate brown hair covering his forehead - he must have not been older than seven. "of course! what do you need, kiddo?" you asked him as you made a cup of coffee.

"my parents work here but they are very busy today so i had to come in, but i don't know where they have gone. can you please help me?" he asked politely, shocking for someone raised with the mafia.

"of course! do you know who their boss is? i can find their boss with you and find your parents." the child thought for a moment at your question, brows furrowed in concentration.

"they said that he's not tall.. orange hair and a hat. i think." he spoke. you snorted in laughter at the description, the child not knowing he was describing your boyfriend.

"yes.. i know him..!" you giggled, offering a hand to the child. you grabbed the cup in your other hand and walked to chuuya's office. you arrived and walked in, opening the door with your back due to both hands being full.

"hey chuu.. i made a friend! do you know his parents, they work under you, love." you asked as you put down his coffee and ruffled his hair. he looked at the kid and laughed at the situation you were in.

"hey shoyo, your parents brought you in today?" he asked, clearly having met the kid before. shoyo nodded and chuuya looked back to you.

"his dad should be in office 17f." he smiled at you, he looked at the kid again, still holding your hand. "do you want me to check where your mother is, she might be with kouyou?" he asked the boy.

"no, thank you mister. i'll hang out with my dad. he thinks you're really cool, by the way!" the kid smiled up at your boyfriend, the interaction made your heart melt.

"does he now? let him know i will approve his vacation request then." chuuya winked, chuckling at the conversation.

maybe when you two go home you are both laughing a little harder at videos of kids, or smile a little brighter at cute photos.

your boyfriend, tecchou, has a day off today. and you had promised your friend that you would watch over her kid for a few hours. koushi was a quiet kid and already knew you, so it would be dead easy.

however, you didn't want to miss out this day with suehiro. so, he came along with you. you explained to him koushi didn't talk much but was sweet, so it would just be making sure that he doesn't accidentally hurt himself whilst his parents aren't home.

"how old is he?" suehiro asked, driving the car towards their house. "eight, i think. you two will get along, don't worry." you reassured him.

you decided to not tell him yet that the kid was very similar to him and had his own ant farm. koushi also adored the hunting dogs, so you knew once you got the two quiet boys talking they would get along brilliantly.

once you arrived, you opened the door with your spare key and greeted the kid, your slightly timid boyfriend following you. "hey koushi! i brought 'hiro!" you chimed, the blonde boy holding out his hand to shake suehiro's. his parents had already left, knowing you would be just a few minutes behind them. you watched over koushi every couple weeks anyways.

suehiro did not expect the boy to be this polite yet he shook his hand nonetheless. "hello" your boyfriend spoke. you decided to ease up their awkwardness as you took off your shoes and put them in their respective caddy.

"so.. koushi.." you began, both of the boys looking at you as you walked to the living room that belonged to your friend, who wasn't here right now. "still got that ant farm?" you asked. knowing your boyfriend's face just lit up even though you weren't looking at him.

"yes!" koushi gestured for the two of you to sit down as he ran to his room to get his ant farm, clearly excited with his interest on the insects.

'hiro turned to you as you sat down. "you didn't tell me he likes ants!" he whispers, eyes wide. you nodded with a grin on your face, "he also thinks the hunting dogs are the coolest people ever.." you sang, knowing the kid will freak out when tecchou starts talking about his job.

when koushi carefully comes back down, holding a kid's ant farm, tecchou speaks up. "you know, ants have two stomachs. one is to hold food for themselves and the other is for sharing food with other ants." tecchou says, admiring the colony of ants the boy has brought downstairs.

then, the pair continue talking about ants for hours until koushi's parents come home. his mother thanks you and his father asks tecchou about any upcoming missions.

"just a lot of paperwork left over from the last one." tecchou smiles at the older man. "the less fascinating side of being a hunting dog, i suppose!" the father jokes. koushi gasps.

"you've been here, for five hours.. and i didn't know you're a hunting dog?!" koushi stares up at him with wide eyes. your friend invites you to stay for dinner, koushi not wanting you to leave because he wants tecchou to tell him everything about being a hunting dog.

[cuddl3s4shur1]

•“𝐁𝐄𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄“•

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐄 𝐁. 𝐗 𝐅 𝐘/𝐍

𝐎𝐍𝐄-𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎:You and hobie have a slight argument that turns into a flirt

𝐀/𝐍: TIKTOK , yall need to take that app away from me, especially when it comes to these storys

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Minor cusing , flirting , Dom! Hobie, Switch! Y/n AND NO SMUT! , Mention of ATSV characters

You hear keys raddle from the other side of the door

It could only be one person and that one person was Hobie

Recently for work purposes you hadn’t seen him in at least 3 days. You didn’t care about the slight work trip , he hadn’t communicated with you sense the day he left for work . So waiting for him to come home became a guessing game .

“Ahh the lad is finally back home “ you say in a sarcastic tone of voice, you roll your eyes also.

“Dang no love “ he asks you looking confused on what was with your attitude towards him

“Dang no communication for 3 days” you tell him you pull the petty card out

“It wasn’t that big birdy, you know I was going to come home safe “ he says in a chill mood

“ did I thought” you question him .

“ I mean yeah , i always-“ he try’s to tell you before you cut him off

“Are you sure always “ you question him

“ majority of the time I come home the same , no Biggy “ he tells you

“Hobie, you haven’t texted , you haven’t called , we haven’t spoken sense you left for work . You haven’t called me from any of your friends phone . “ you tell him

“It’s not that big , that why . If I got injured or hurt , I would have someone else contact you “ he told you .

“ So basically I’m a “call in case of an emergency “ . “ you ask him .

“I mean if you think of it , but you know I had no reason to really use my phone “ he says as he walks close to you .

“Oh so I’m not a reason “ you ask him .

“ you are but other than that how do I charge a phone with no charger “ he tells you

“ wireless or just ask . Your telling me Gwen, Miles ,Pavitr or Miles didn’t have a char-“ he cuts you off by causing you to walk backwards making you fall into the arm chair

“Your overreacting , so lets do each other a favor . You start to relax and be quiet “

“Make Me”

He squats down so he can hold your face , he goes into whisper , “You would love that wouldn’t you “ he lets go of you face and makes a slight grin . “I would do that for you … but nah you would enjoy it to much “ he smirks .

You cuff his face with your hands , and you start to smile. “I would love that, I would love to be gripping on the sheets holding myself back from moaning loudly , so we don’t get a noise complainant from the neighbors “ you smirk

“Oh do you , I got three words for you if you really want to go down that route…” you both go silent .

Beg For Me

[bleedingoptimism]

The Stray

part two

Steve, blushingly furiously, asks Max to take over pancake duty so he can put on a shirt.

And Eddie is both thankful and devastated about it until Steve comes back… and he’s wearing one of Eddie’s shirts and fuck, that makes it so much worse.

He’s always had a thing for guys wearing his clothes and Steve looks so fucking pretty with an old and tattered shirt from his first tour.

Steve catches Eddie staring at him and blushes again, “Sorry, I'm wearing you aren’t I?” 

‘Uhg why would you phrase it like that? That sounds so good. Yes. Please. Wear me.’

Eddie shakes his head and smiles at their guest, “Nah, it’s fine dude, you can do me whene- Wear me! I mean- wear my clot- Stop laughing Max, you little shit! I slept like two hours, okay?”

The three of them share a laugh and then, with all of their plates full, Max starts telling Eddie how she met Steve and the circumstances that got her to invite him over.

Eddie listens and starts thinking, shit, maybe he shouldn’t trust Max to be alone for such long periods of time. He worries about her, always has. But Max has always been independent and so fucking stubborn, toeing the line between proving how responsible she was and disobedience.

He tries to keep an eye on her as much as she lets him, he trusts Max to commute to college alone, to hit the skate park at any hour of the day. She used to get into fights at high school but went to therapy for her anger issues and doesn’t do it anymore.

He trusts her with her boyfriend. Or more accurately, he trusts her boyfriend. It took Max two whole months to tell Eddie she was dating someone and another two months to finally introduce them. And not because she was worried about what Eddie might think of him, oh no. 

She was worried Eddie would think Lucas was too good for her. Too pure. That she would corrupt him. (She was right about Lucas being too pure but Eddie would never think someone could be too good for her. In his opinion, she deserved every bit of good that came her way.)

So really, befriending a street performer sounded like something right up her alley but, taking a homeless man in…

Not that he can blame her, he thinks as he watches Steve shyly biting a pancake and getting progressively redder as Max dives into an action-packed story of him beating up three men to save her.

He knows Max like the back of his hand and knows exactly where she’s going when she talks about how kind, smart, and talented her friend is so he’s not surprised when she asks, “Can he stay with us for a while?”

“No, absolutely not.”

It’s not him who answers, but Steve. He’s shaking his head and looking at Max with big eyes, “I couldn’t possibly. I can’t take advantage of your hospitality any longer, I-”

“Oh, shut up Steve, don’t play hard to get. You have nowhere else to go! Just say yes.”

Steve seems to shrink into himself and looks between Max and Eddie, who gives him a little encouraging smile.

“What are you going to do?” Max presses.

Steve blinks at them sadly and he looks so much like a kicked puppy Eddie wants to make Max back off and hold him, so he stuffs his mouth with pancakes before he says something stupid.

“...I don't know,” Steve answers after a second, and Max huffs as if she is dealing with a child.

“Do you have anyone you could call?” Eddie asks him curious.

Steve’s shoulders tense for a second before he smiles apologetically, “Not anyone I’d want to find out about my… Situation”

“That settles it then!” Max says and claps her hands loudly making Eddie jump, he really did sleep two hours and he wants to go to bed now. Maybe Steve would be up for cuddles? Okay, no. He needs to go to sleep right now before his brain gets any more dumb ideas.

“You can stay in the guest room Wayne and mom use when they come over, no biggie. And don’t worry I’m not gonna let you stay here for free! You’ll chaperone me to school and the skate park and can do the groceries and cook while you look for a proper job! If anything I’ll be taking advantage of you and not the other way around,” Max tells him in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

Steve looks between the both of them once more before sighing and nodding once, a small smile on his lips that makes his eyes shine prettily.

He blinks a couple of times, his eyes looking wetter with every blink and he clears his throat and excuses himself going to the living room where his beat-up duffle bag and guitar case are, pretending to be tying things up while clearly drying his tears.

Eddie’s heart clenches for him but he looks at Max and shakes his head at her, “You know, your mom warned me once about me getting home one day and finding you with a stray puppy but,” he lifts his hand and points in Steve’s general direction, “That’s a grown-ass man.”

Max smirks at him, “Nah,” she says, taking Eddie’s plate and hers and starting to clean up after Steve, “He’s a puppy.”

to be continued!

part 1: 🎸

part 2: you are here!

part 3: 📓

part 4: 💝

coffee?☕🥐💕

[devilfic]

❝small favor❞

VI. growing pains.

parts: previously plot: you and peter are getting used to each other, but there are growing pains. pairing: mcu!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: mentions of several injuries, mildly suggestive content, hurt/comfort, peter being a problematic vigilante boyfriend (not telling you he got his ass kicked). words: 5k.

a/n: something a little shorter and sweeter (after the pain, of course).

You lift your head, heart hammering away, and meet the eyes of Peter Parker.

He fits him perfectly. The curls, his lips. But now there are eyes that fill in the gap, honey-color eyes that speak to that soothing feeling he gives you. He's leaning his forehead against yours now, looking up into your own eyes. You've thought about this exact moment happening before, but you had never gotten around to what you would say when it finally did.

Peter's thumb brushes up against your hip—having sneaked underneath the hem of his sweater during your reverie—and it jolts you back, "Well, come on," he nervously laughs, "don't leave me hangin'."

You take a handful of his hair in your grip, passing the silky strands between your fingertips and recalling the first night you'd ever felt them, "Why now?"

Peter's nose scrunches up, "I told you. I was never fooling you."

You shut your eyes, stretching your neck forward to brush your nose against his, "No, but... why right now? Why like this?

"It might be obvious but I really, really like you. I... I just kept thinking that I really wanted to tell you, because you're this smart, ambitious, funny—amazing at baking, by the way—person that I didn't want to miss out on, but you don't really know Peter Parker. You know Spidey. You know Spider-Man. And that's a lot to live up to which is weird to say because it's... also me? And eventually, the more comfortable I got with you, the more the lines started to blur together. But I just worried that if I dragged it out any longer, I might set you up for disappointment and I just... wanted you to see me. Really see me. At least once, before I told you. Does that make sense?"

And you do see him. You're seeing everything you imagined and more mystery yet. The pictures in this room could only tell a fraction of the story of Peter Parker, your time with Spider-Man telling another. You let the little voice in your head that drives your curiosity get excited at unraveling it. Just this once. "I told you at the gala, didn't I? That if anyone in that room was you, Peter Parker would be it."

You hear a low grumble in Peter's throat, "Mm, yeah. Yeah, you did say that. You also said that... I'd be shaking and crying if you yelled at me-"

"That's irrelevant."

"You say that whenever I'm right."

"I say that whenever it's irrelevant."

"Yeah, but you do have a thing for me, right?" Peter smiles, taking your cheek in his hand. The bliss on his face knocks you right out of whack. The dresser digs into your back as you try not to get lightheaded just looking at him.

It's so unfamiliar to put a face—a whole face—to Spidey, and now you can see it all. Every wrinkle, every flutter of his eyelashes, every brow-furrow. Everything, everything.

Your lips part to tease him, but Peter's door suddenly shakes under three firm knocks.

"Hey. Is Harry. You okay?" Harry Osborn is slurring over his words, and you can tell he's got his mouth pressed up against the door because it sounds a little muffled when he speaks, "I'm really sorry."

Peter's shoulders had tensed at the knocks, pulling you closer to his body for the fraction of a second when neither of you knew it was Harry. But once he recognizes the voice, his mouth drops to your shoulder to muffle his laughing. You press your face into his hair to stifle your own, barely able to choke out a sincere, "It's no biggie, Harry. Really!"

"Ya sure? I feel really awful about it. May's... May said I stained the tablecloth too."

"I'm so sure, Harry."

"I can buy you a new shirt. As many-" He pauses to hiccup, "-as many as you want."

"You really don't have to!"

A few seconds later, Harry mumbles, "Are you mad at me?"

You whisper to Peter who is biting his bottom lip to keep from giving himself away, "Is he always like this when he's drunk?"

"After the tequila mellows out," Peter snickers, "he won't let it go until he makes it up to you, you know."

Through the door, you can hear Harry say something like "you really are mad at me" to himself. "Seriously, it's not a big deal, Harry. Look, I've already got a new sweater on and everything!"

You kind of hear Harry's question, but you notice Peter's reaction first. He stiffens, tilts his head toward the door, inhales deep.

The door barely cracks open a hair before Peter's webbed it shut.

The look Peter gives you tells you everything you need to know: Harry doesn't know.

Your mouth falls open as you slip from between Peter and the dresser and rush over to the door. You slip two fingers between the web and the door frame, testing the strength, and the lack of give is impressive. "Uh, sorry Har! I'm not decent right now."

"But you... you said... a new sweater-"

"Yeah, but..." You glance over at Peter for help which ends up being the absolute wrong thing to do. You'd taken your eyes off him during the mere second it took to reach the door, and now he's half naked standing in a pool of red and blue and frantically pulling a shirt over his naked stomach. You stare at the ridges of his abdomen as they flex, and even a little longer after Peter pulls a "You Compute Me <3" t-shirt down over it. He gestures vaguely at you, even as his cheeks go pink watching your eyes dart to his boxers and back up to his face, "...it got on my pants too?"

You hear Harry whine a little, thumping his forehead against the door, "I'm really sorry."

"If you think about it, it's kind of like payback. I spill my drink on you, you spill your drink on me. We're even now." You peek at Peter who's now bent over digging through his drawer for a pair of shorts and force yourself to keep your thoughts elsewhere.

"I'll buy you new pants, too. I'll buy you so many pants."

"The stain isn't even that bad! I'm just spot-cleaning it, really. You can go back to the party."

"Oh... well, I was gonna, but I can't find Pete."

You open your mouth to dig up some reassuring lie when Peter presses himself into your back, snatches the webbing off the door frame, and opens it to reveal a flustered looking Harry on the other side.

Whatever embarrassment he felt over the whole drink ordeal washes away instantaneously. He frowns, blinks, stands upright at once. He stares between you and Peter.

Peter is the first one to say something, "Hey... man. Hey. I'm here. You found me."

Harry raises a finger to point accusingly at you two, but nothing comes out of his mouth for a bit. Like he'd forgotten to say what he was thinking out loud, "Have you been here the whole time?"

You look at Peter. His right hand rests on the small of your back like an awkward prom date, and when he meets your gaze, a nervous laugh tumbles out of his mouth, "Yes... yeah."

Harry's eyes narrow, "Why'd you change clothes?"

"Hot flash."

Both you and Harry give Peter a bewildered look this time. How he'd kept his secret identity a secret this long was truly a plot armor miracle.

"I can take a hint, you know," Harry's demeanor deflates, even though he sounds less sad and more disappointed, "I just wish you guys would've told me you were dating earlier. I know I've been gone but I still wanna be in your life, Pete."

Your heart softens at that. You feel kind of terrible about how clumsily you've all stumbled into this moment. You feel Peter stiffen and swoop in to save him, "No! You've got it all wrong, we're not dating. We just... kissed. For the first time, actually. That's why I didn't let you in at first. It was... you know."

You watch Harry process it for a moment. Then, as if all transgressions had been forgiven, he smiles. With a deep bellow the whole house can hear, Harry turns to yell down the hallway, "That's 20, Leeds! I called it!" He gives you both a fleeting goodbye, throws in a "congrats", and runs downstairs.

You let the door quietly glide shut. Peter runs a hand through his hair, letting out a rough exhale. "So, Harry, one of your best friends since college, doesn't know you're Spider-Man? But I do?"

"It's complicated." Peter groans, "I didn't tell anyone at first. Not MJ, not Ned, not even May. Then it all just kinda happened. With Harry, though... it's not that I don't trust him, I just don't know how to bring it up."

You watch him take a seat on the edge of his bed, dropping his chin in his hand to look at you. You press your back to the door, "Bet him 20 bucks you couldn't crawl on the ceiling?"

Peter snickers, "Nah. I'd bet him 80."

"Speaking of: you wouldn't happen to know anything about that 20 Harry was talking about, would you?"

Peter's cheeks go pink and he drops his head in his hands.

Boldly, you press off the door and saunter over to him, dropping to your knees at his feet and resting your folded arm on one of his legs. He peeks through his fingers to look at you and then quickly closes them again. You tug his chin toward you and his hands have no choice but to fall away, revealing his wobbly, embarrassed smile and the blush that had spread up to his hairline, "Parker." Is all you say.

He tries to hold out and bless him, he's really cute when he tries, but he turns to mush after holding your stare for too long, "The guys thought it'd be funny to make a bet on when I'd... give in."

"Give in? To what?"

Peter wails and throws himself back on the bed dramatically, flopping like a fish. You crawl up onto the bed beside him with a shit-eating grin. He tries to throw his arm over his eyes but you pin his wrist beside his head while he debates between looking at you head-on and staring up at the top bunk, "Hey, don't hide from me," you whine, "tell me."

Peter grumbles something sarcastic under his breath but it hitches when you throw a leg over him, straddling his lower half and blocking his view of the box-spring. You think his pupils blow a bit wider, "To you," Peter's voice is tender now, careful and vulnerable, "I... kind of told everyone I wanted to make a good impression on you. Or a better impression than the last two. And Harry's been teasing me about it all day so I thought I'd just spite him for it and... and then I... put on the suit. And something stupid happens to me when I'm around you, but if I hadn't, I don't know if I would have had the courage to kiss you."

You slip a hand up Peter's chest, "If it makes you feel better," you lean down to peck his lips, "it was a damn good kiss."

"Yeah?" Peter's voice pitches up a little, cracking on the word.

"I've gotta tell the Web-Blog about it now. Full disclosure."

Before you can even giggle about it, Peter has you flipped on your back, pressing his mouth to yours in a dizzying kiss that shuts you right up.

You have not heard from Peter in 12 hours.

For normal couples, 12 hours without speaking wasn't the end of the world. Jobs, family, friends, alone time; it was reasonable—healthy even—for normal couples. 12 hours was nothing.

But you and Peter were not normal, and 12 hours for you was four days in normal couple time.

It had started the night before. Peter had promised he'd swing by for your usual debrief, a little later than usual due to where he'd be patrolling, and you had reassured him it was fine. You'd made tea and prepped the couch for the possible (inevitable) sleep-over, and waited. And waited. At some point, you'd passed out exhausted on the couch thinking that he might swoop in around three a.m. with snacks and an apology, only to wake up hours later to sunrise and nothing. No one. Cold tea and a couch only you slept on.

You'd shot off a text (well-concealed concern, of course) hoping he'd gotten some well-earned sleep after patrol, dancing around the missed date. It was fine, you were sure. It was only eight in the morning and he didn't have a tight schedule like you.

But by the afternoon, there is no response to your text.

You just about gnaw your fingernails off before Jameson recommends you take a walk to gather your bearings, or "you're shaking like my wife's teacup poodle off half a shot of espresso, go somewhere I can't see you."

Halfway down the block and no less nervous than when you left, you call the only person you know who might be of help, "Hey, Ned. Are you busy by any chance?"

"Nah, you caught me on my lunch break. What's up?"

You press your back to a storefront window, letting the city pass you by, "It's Pete. He was supposed to come by last night for our weekly debrief but he didn't show. No text, no call, nothing. And he always does his best to let me know if he can't make it."

"Hm, that's weird. Did you try calling him?"

"I... texted him? Assumed he was just too tired last night and slept off patrol at his place. But it's been a few hours and he still hasn't responded. I didn't wanna seem like a clingy partner if he was just busy but I'm getting worried. You haven't heard from him, have you?"

You can hear Ned's computer chair squeak on the other end as if he'd shot up in his chair. "That's... not like Peter."

Your stomach turns to lead, "Ned, you don't think-"

"Hold on." You hear rapid typing on Ned's end, "I traced his phone back to his apartment." You would ask how he managed to do that so quickly, especially at work, but you supposed you'd rather not know, "He's there for sure. Or his phone is, at least. Log shows he definitely took it with him on patrol."

You frown, "Really?"

"It showed him returning home at one this morning. It's still on. Last location ping was half an hour ago. Doesn't seem like he's used it, though. No calls sent out, no texts either."

"You're scary good at this, Ned."

You can hear the pride in Ned's tone as he types some more, "Look, I'm gonna give him a call and see if he picks up. If he doesn't, I'll head over to his place and see what's going on for myself. I'll let you know if I get anything out of him, alright?"

"Alright. Good. Be careful."

"Hey."

"Hm?" You bite hard into your bottom lip.

"Don't pull an Aunt May on me."

"What's an Aunt May?"

"The whole pretending you're not freaking out when you really are freaking out thing. Classic May."

"Can you blame me, Ned? I'm... I'm new to this. I don't know the protocol for dating a-" You bring a hand up to your mouth to muffle the rest of your sentence, "-vigilante. I don't know what's too much or- or..."

"If it helps, I hear there's no protocol at all. Pretty disorganized system, if you ask me. Many a couple left asunder." You choke on a little laugh, "It's gonna be okay, okay? Peter likes you a lot. It's probably nothing. Don't stress yourself out. I'll talk to you later."

The phone clicks. You feel like you should be surrounded by silence after that but the city bustles about you as if you're not even there. It's overstimulating, but you don't think you'll find much refuge back at the Bugle either.

And you would go, you would if you could. You'd be meeting Ned halfway if you knew where Peter lived but it was embarrassing. You hadn't worked up the courage to ask and Peter had never invited you over, and so now you're stuck on a street corner twiddling your thumbs wondering if your boyfriend might be hurt or worse while you mull over being too forward.

You wait five minutes, but no updates from Ned. 10, and nothing still. A half hour passes and you think you might actually vibrate through the floor with worry when you get a single text from Ned. It's an address.

Jameson hadn't been too happy when you took the rest of the afternoon off, but you'd promised to edit a particularly scathing piece about Spider-Man in exchange and, well, he couldn't say no to that.

As you knocked on the door of apartment 215, you could hear quarreling voices behind it come to a halt. Then, unmistakably, your boyfriend asks, "Who is that?" Your saliva gets stuck in your throat. You have to force down a swallow, the pressure building in your nose and behind your eyes as footsteps draw near to the front door. You hated that this would be the first time you stepped foot into Peter's place: unplanned, uninvited.

Ned is the one to open the door. His disappointment is palpable but very clearly not aimed at you. He blocks the doorway, dropping his voice to a whisper, "I know it's a lot to ask, but please don't panic. Not yet."

What no one had seemed to tell Ned in his 20+ years of living is that prefacing something with "don't panic" often had the opposite effect. Your heart rate spikes. It stutters when Peter calls out your name weakly.

All the swirling fear you'd been bracing for hits you at once. Peter is curled up on his two-seater—a cramped, dingy thing—looking like death itself. He hadn't even taken off the suit fully, the upper half bunched up at his waist like he'd only had the energy to get it down that far. His chest and torso are littered with fresh scars, some more ghastly than others, few hastily covered in a concoction of ointments and bandages that sit in a pile by the couch.

You rush past Ned and collapse on your knees beside it, "Peter?"

He winces. His face is bruised, mottled around the eyes and mouth and nose. His hand shakes as you reach for it.

You turn to Ned, "What happened?"

"Fisk happened," his best friend grumbles, "a lot of Fisk happened, apparently."

You remembered what he'd said about patrol last night. He was over in Hell's Kitchen, checking on some suspicious activity by the rail yard. Your heart jumps in your throat. "Fisk was there?"

Peter lets out a shuttering breath, "Overseeing transport."

You glare at him with more heat than he probably deserves right now, but you're beginning to tremble with rage and you've nowhere to put it, "Did you know Fisk was there?" Peter does not answer. He doesn't even bother to look at you anymore. "Peter."

"I had a chance," he coughs, spit dribbling from the corner of his lip that you quickly blot away with your sleeve, "to catch him in the act."

"He could've killed you!"

Peter can't argue that. You want him to; you want him to tell you that it wasn't so much of a close call. It'd put your mind at ease, keeping every other possible scenario at bay. He can't even do that.

You hover a hand over his cheek but can't bring yourself to touch him, afraid to irritate the bruises there. "I'm taking you to a hospital."

"You can't." Peter and Ned's voices ring out in unison.

"Then we'll take you to... to somewhere. The Avengers facility, some top-secret resort on an island I don't know the name of. Something. Peter, you could've died."

"And I'll heal," you watch Peter press himself up on his elbows, but he wobbles under his own weight and drops back down into the cushions, "it's just gonna take a while."

"Tell him he's being ridiculous, Ned."

Ned frowns from the hallway, arms crossed over his chest, "He is. But he's not going to leave the city. I've... tried."

You bite your lip, "Then what if we get someone down here instead? They come to Peter."

You see the cogs turning in Peter's brain, trying to strum up some kind of excuse, but you're already stealing his phone from the coffee table and scrolling for her contact before Peter can stop you. If you weren't so worried about his health, you'd have hesitated before dialing her number. You jump up from the floor and to your horror, Peter tries to follow you.

He stumbles—of course he does, he's barely able to stand upright—and at the very moment he reaches for your arm, the phone picks up, "Peter? It's been a while. How are you?"

"This isn't Peter, this is... this is a friend of Peter's," Peter's fingers still on your elbow, his chest pressed to your side, and you can feel him struggling to keep his weight off you to stand. Both you and Ned force him down onto his bed. "Listen, I'm sorry to bother you, but he got hurt really bad last night and we could use any help we can get. Is it possible you could send someone over? Anyone who can help?"

"Um," Pepper Potts sounds stunned, "is Peter there? Can I talk to him first?"

You reluctantly hold out the phone to your boyfriend, daring him to ignore the determined look in your eyes. And, to his credit, he does try.

"He's recovering quickly, though it won't be as quick of a turnaround as he's used to. Make sure he takes these every six hours and keep an eye on his liquids," Dr. Said places a bottle in your hand, her tone just barely betraying the exhaustion she feels after working on Peter for hours, "I would recommend no heroing until he's fully recovered, but this isn't my first rodeo."

You wonder how many heroes Dr. Said has fixed up in her time. Pepper had said she'd send over an "expert", though she'd never had the pleasure of working on Peter.

You walk her to the door and lock it behind her when she leaves, and it's only then that you realize the sun has begun to set, the buildings across the street reflecting fleeting sunrays through Peter's living room window. You're careful maneuvering throughout the place: shutting blinds, flipping on lamps, picking up his suit and discarding it in the laundry bin. It's only one room—Peter's apartment—so he watches you the whole time.

You're thinking about what to say now that it's just the two of you (Ned had gone back to work after his lunch break ended), but Peter beats you to it, "I won that," you look at Peter sitting up in bed, then follow his finger to a shelf above his desk scattered with trophies, "at my middle school mathletes competition. The one next to it was for 2nd place at our science fair; I would've won first but the soda dispenser on my ice cream float machine malfunctioned and sprayed root beer in the principal's eye."

You snort, "Pity. You kept the trophy but not the machine?"

"I kept it! It's probably in May's attic buried under my basketball participation trophies." Peter smiles for the first time since you'd gotten here. He pats the bed beside him.

As you crawl into Peter's bed, he tells you about everything else; his rug is from a garage sale (and no, those weren't bloodstains, just a freak accident with tomato paste), he'd had his bed since college but splurged on a new mattress with graduation money, he paid a little less on rent now in exchange for letting the landlord's daughter take his bike to work sometimes (swinging was faster anyway).

The little details end up not being very little. There's so much of him here, packed into this tiny one-bedroom. The half-baked Spidey gadgets scattered across his desk and the science beakers in the kitchen sink... it's so much more than what you imagined.

You curl into Peter, laying flat on your side as he tucks his arm underneath your head. He must've run out of things to point at because it's silent between you both for a good while. The sun has fully set by the time he speaks again, "I wanted this to go differently."

"This?" You mumble.

"This. You coming over for the first time. I would've liked to have... don't know, vacuumed. Changed my sheets. Washed the blood out of my suit," you both laugh at that, "I would've made you dinner. I've got tons of recipes saved on my phone."

"Oh yeah? What would you have made me?"

"Ugh, there was this uh... this pasta chip thing? You boil pasta noodles, season 'em, throw 'em in the air fryer and they come out all crunchy. I would've borrowed May's fryer and went to town."

"That sounds really good actually."

"Yeah, I gotta-" Peter reaches for his phone on the windowsill but stretches himself too hard. You sit up a little to press your hand to his shoulder, worrying over his irritated stitches, and he sinks back into the headboard in defeat, "I gotta show you. Sometime."

Peter is avoiding your eyes but you can see the swirling pools of shame and embarrassment in his. While Dr. Said had worked on his injuries, he had said next to nothing. Just stared at the ceiling, or at her, or at you. It was unnerving. He never passed up an opportunity to joke—especially at his own expense—and yet... "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

Peter winces at your question. Still refusing to look at you, the arm around you tightens and loosens. You brush your fingers against his bandaged cheek and for a second, he instinctively bumps into it. "I didn't want to worry you."

"And Ned? MJ? May? You couldn't tell them either?"

"I... I just needed to sleep it off."

"Pete," You nearly growl his name, enough for him to actually look you in the eyes this time, "don't bullshit me. Not after today."

Peter swallows. He believes your threat unsaid, and buckles, "I'm sorry."

The tightness in your frown softens, "Why?"

Peter laughs but you can tell there's very little humor in it. A defense mechanism, maybe, or his feelings are just that absurd, "I never set out to tell anyone that I was Spider-Man. I mean, I thought about it all the time but it all just kind of... happened. Before May, before Ned, before... Tony, it was just me. If I beat up a bad guy, it was between me and whoever managed to catch it online. If I saved a little old lady, it was between me and her. If I got hurt, it was just me. I learned to handle that."

You think back to what Peter said, about how he'd been Spider-Man since he'd started high school. Imagining a younger Peter—the Peter in those family pictures at May's—beaten to a pulp most nights makes you sick to your stomach. "But you've had Ned, and MJ and May for years. Don't you-" You don't get the chance to finish your question. The look Peter gives you is your answer.

"I love them but they're not... they didn't sign up for this. I did. When I fuck up, it's me. It's just me. It has to be."

"And the other heroes? I'm sure the others would help."

"The others have bigger fish to fry than me," Peter chuckles, "and I swore I would take care of New York. It's my home. So that's what I'm going to do, even if I have to do it alone."

"But you're not alone." You take his free hand in yours, fingers intertwining despite the splint on one finger. "Pete, I'm not asking you to let me out in the field with you in a dollar store knock-off of your suit, I'm asking that you just tell me—tell us when you need help. If things get dicey, say something. I'd rather know than find you in a ditch somewhere because you were too-" and you want to say proud, but you fear it'll burn the wrong way, "-too worried about us worrying. We're here for you. I'm here for you. I care so much about you that I think my heart might explode."

"Whoa, hey," Peter's eyes prickle with tears as he laughs, releasing your hand to cup your cheek, "telling me that kinda proves my point, you know that right?"

You can't help but smile, "I can't help it. You do crazy things to my feelings, Parker."

Peter draws you in for a kiss, then two. Your shoulders sag with the weight of the day and you try your best not to lean into his bruised shoulder. "I'm sorry. I should've sucked it up and said something. Ignoring you was a jackass move."

"Yeah. It was."

"I'm really sorry."

"I forgive you."

Peter's eyelashes flutter open but he keeps your noses pressed against each other, "You wanna sleep over?"

You raise an eyebrow, even as your heart accelerates, "Easy there, tiger. Make me dinner first."

Peter wiggles his injured hand against your cheek, "Uh, chef's on sabbatical. Will takeout suffice?"

You press a kiss to his nose. "Sounds good to me, handsome."

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return: Month 1

Stories around the Breakfast Grill

Part One | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

This idea was sent to me by my good friend @kimahrii and by Anonymous! CW: Some light reader past trauma Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 2.7k

“Thatch!” you yelled, peeking your head inside the kitchen. “Fruit for breakfast again?! Where’s the bacon?”

“Sorry kid,” Thatch apologized, scooping a strange liquid into a bowl. “We’re out of charcoal.”

You scowled. “So make more.”

“We could…but were out of wood, too.”

Your eyes grew wide. “We’re three days from another island!”

“We have food! Just not anything to cook with.”

Ace popped his head in next to you. “You could use me!”

The cooks in the kitchen froze at his words, trying to decide if he was being serious or not. On one hand, the day would be hard without protein. But the last time someone tried to cook food…

You laughed. “Thatch doesn’t let people do that.”

“No,” Marco appeared from the supply closet, clearly digging for his own rations. “Thatch doesn’t let you do that. Since you almost burned down the ship last time.”

You pouted at him, your cheeks turning bright red in remembrance. “I was eleven!”

“And a walking fire hazard,” Marco grumbled and went back to the storage closet. Ace was grinning at you, but he could tell you were embarrassed, so he didn’t want to press the story any further at the moment. 

“So, eggs and bacon?” Ace walked to the cooler area and reached for the eggs and meat. Thatch scowled at him but passed off the paste that he had been preparing to another crewmate, and picked up a frying pan. 

“I’m cooking,” Thatch said, gathering a few ingredients. “I don’t trust you heathens to do it properly.”

“Yay!” you cheered. Thatch always came through for you, in some way or another. You were a lousy cook anyway, even if he had tried to teach you.

Ace wrapped his arm around you and led you out of the kitchen and onto the deck, both of you thrilled with the victory.

“Grab some water buckets!” Thatch called after you. You rolled your eyes but did as you were told.

You and Ace headed up to the secluded part of the deck, buckets in hand. Ace laid down on the deck, giving you a wink and placing his hat atop your head as he spread out. 

“So,” Ace said, bathing in the morning sunlight. “You’re gonna have to tell me about this fire hazard thing, you know.”

Before you could answer, you heard footsteps coming up behind you. 

“She was a fire hazard for years,” Marco griped, sitting down next to you. You groaned, wanting to crawl away and find a hole to hide in. Marco knew it all, and he certainly wouldn’t spare the details. 

A chorus of voices laughed from behind him, and you realized that Ace would now have an audience as he was cooking the food. Surely everyone was coming to see if he would suffer the same humiliation as you had in the past. 

“She burned everything she touched when she was younger,” Marco said. “And oh boy, you couldn’t criticize her at all without getting a flaming rock shot at you. Thankfully her aim wasn’t very good.”

“Really?” Ace was grinning, looking over at you. You tipped his hat lower to avoid making eye contact with him, but you could see him trying to catch your attention.  

You could feel your cheeks starting to burn, and you could hear the sound of your hair around the tips of your ears starting to fry. You could only hope that Ace’s lucky hat wouldn’t have burn marks when you returned it to him. 

Curiel laughed. “She was! How do you think Thatch got that scar around his eye?”

You stared at the ground, knowing you were giving yourself away. Most of the commanders didn’t even notice your embarrassment. They loved making fun of you, even if it was a sensitive subject in your mind. 

“Ah, it’s no biggie.” Thatch gave you a playful wink, sitting down on the other side of you. “I gotta think of a cooler story though. Telling people I was beat up by a seven-year-old doesn’t sound as cool as you think it does.”

The rest of the crew laughed, and you gave a polite smile yourself, trying to bury the shame you felt at that story. You had never meant to hurt Thatch, and seeing that scar made your mind cloud with guilt some days. 

You felt a hand wrap around yours, giving you a light squeeze. You met Ace’s eyes finally, and he gave you a little smile, letting you know it was okay. He wouldn’t judge you. He wouldn’t laugh at you. 

“Let’s get crackin’.” Thatch passed the eggs over to you, along with a bowl and a whisk. “Just scrambled today. Nothing fancy.”

You gave a nod and released Ace’s hand to pick up the eggs and begin preparing breakfast. You had done this a million times before, ever since you could remember. 

When you were little, Thatch pulled up a chair for you to stand on and taught you how to crack an egg. People told him it took you 5 times longer than anyone else in the kitchen, but Thatch made you stick with it, even when you were ready to explode with anger. You had been mad at him then, but now you could crack eggs more skillfully than most of the cooks in the kitchen. 

Thatch began preparing bacon while you cracked the eggs, and Marco began cutting scallions and mushrooms to add to your bowl. 

Thatch looked around nervously. “We’ve got water, right? In case it gets out of hand?”

“Dude,” Ace laughed, looking very nonchalant as he got comfortable on the deck. “Stop freaking out. I can handle it.”

“Heard that before,” Thatch mumbled, shooting a glance your way. “Okay Ace, light it up.”

Ace skillfully created low flames from his torso, keeping them contained but burning hot. Thatch carefully lined the bacon on the pan and then placed it on Ace’s stomach, watching it carefully. The second division commander gave a light chuckle, but kept the flames under control. 

Thatch still didn’t seem convinced, though. He didn’t take his eyes off it, looking for any sign of disaster. 

“Relax, Thatch,” Ace assured him. “You can put the bacon right on me if you want.”

Thatch physically grimaced at the offer. “That would be a major health hazard. When’s the last time you even showered?”

Ace bit his lip, trying to recall. “Do I have to answer that?”

Thatch gagged at his answer, but Marco chuckled to himself as he examined the vegetables, clearly lost in his own world. “Y/N, do you remember that month you dressed up as a scarecrow?”

“Because of the seagulls!” Rakuyo chimed in. “You were…four?”

“Oh,” Ace grinned, looking up at you. You didn’t look as mortified as you had for the previous story, and Ace was dying to hear more about your childhood. “A scarecrow, huh?”

“Yeah,” Rakuyo said. “She thought the seagulls were going to eat our vegetable garden, so every day she dressed up as a scarecrow to keep them away.”

“Too bad she didn’t realize that once we left land, we left the seagulls too!” Vista bellowed, joining in on the fun. “But hey, she was determined to stand there all day. She was convinced that standing there kept the seagulls away!”

“You guys told me it was working!” you blushed, your cheeks glowing from embarrassment.

“Damn straight we did,” Marco said, adding his ingredients to your bowl. “Kept you out of our hair for most of the day.”

You rolled your eyes. “How did I even like you as a kid? You were so mean to me! And you weren’t even a good babysitter!”

“Oh my god!” Jozu yelled, laughing to himself. “Do you guys remember when Marco let Y/N have 3 shots? He got a six-year-old hammered!”

Now it was Marco’s turn to turn red. “Now, now!” Marco defended. “That was not my fault! I turned away for thirty seconds!”

Ace was clearly humored by the story because his flames shot up, increasing the heat level.

“Hey!” Thatch hissed. “Keep it under control.”

You must’ve really scarred that man. In more ways than one. He was paranoid about everything now.

“You know what she told me?” Marco continued. “ ‘It’s in a little glass so it must be for little people.’ Three shots. In thirty seconds. And it was the good stuff, too!”

“I think I recall her claiming it tasted like candy juice,” Thatch chuckled.

“Coconut juice,” you corrected. “But it was sweet like candy.”

“You were drunk off your ass!” Marco yelled. “At six years old! And you were a mean drunk, too!”

“Shouldn’t have let me drink, then,” you shrugged, grinning at him. It was nice for the heat to be on someone else. 

“Why do you think you weren’t allowed at parties until you were 13?!” Marco hissed. “Man, I was in so much trouble that night.”

“If I recall correctly-” Fossa had a grin on his face, showing he definitely did remember correctly. “Marco was put on babysitting duty all night for the drunk kid.”

“God, I didn’t sleep a wink! That was one of the scariest moments of my life. I thought for sure you were going to die. But you didn’t even throw up! You just giggled yourself to sleep and then slept like a rock all night!”

“Even then, you could handle your alcohol,” Thatch chuckled, bumping his shoulder against yours. 

“And then that time you ran away!” Marco groaned. “That was probably the most scared I’ve been in my life, actually. God, I was sure I was Pops was going to kill me for losing you.”

Ace perked up, interested in your rebellion. “Ran away?”

“I was five!” you shouted. “And you weren’t listening to me!”

“We had to go grocery shopping, which you agreed to do!”

“I was bored! I would’ve found my way back!”

“Like hell you would’ve,” Marco shot back. “You would’ve found your way straight to a Naval Base.”

“Oh, I will need this story,” Ace said, instantly intrigued. He tried to turn to face you and Marco, but Thatch smacked him back into place. 

“You have food on you, in case you forgot,” Thatch scolded. “Stay still.”

“She ran from Marco and got picked up by some bounty hunters,” Jozu explained, ignoring the ongoing bickering you and Marco were partaking in. “They were taking her to a Naval Base to turn her in for her bounty.”

Ace raised his eyebrow at you, trying not to laugh. “How’d you get away from them?”

You shrugged. “They ran off. Marco grabbed me and took me back to the ship before they came back.”

“That is not what happened,” Marco cackled. “That is not what happened at all.”

A few others joined in on the laughter, but you didn’t understand. That’s exactly how you remembered it. “What are you talking about?” you asked, looking around. 

“Don’t act modest!” Rakuyo called out, like he was trying to pull out a story that you weren’t aware of. 

“Come on,” Ace begged. “Tell me.”

“I don’t…” you trailed off, looking at Marco for help. You really thought that was the story. You were certain Marco had rescued you.  

Marco watched you closely, trying to see if you were bluffing. “Holy shit,” he mumbled after a few moments.  “Did nobody tell you?”

“When exactly was that supposed to come up?” Thatch replied softly, taking the scrambled eggs and pouring them into the pan. 

“What?” you demanded. “What happened?”

“You killed those guys,” Vista said, chuckling at his own words. “After you ate that fruit, you set off an explosion. Marco went to investigate, and found you at the heart of it all.”

“No.” You laughed nervously, looking around the deck at everyone’s faces. Vista was always making up absurd stories; making fun of how gullible you could be. You refused to fall for it again. “I was five. I couldn’t have done that.”

“You did.” Marco leaned across you and grabbed a piece of bacon from the plate. 

“No,” you reiterated. “I remember you coming and getting me. I remember-”

“The crater you left? The ash? How exhausted you were after?” Marco asked, pressing you to remember. “You told me that those guys were trying to grab you, and then they just disappeared. You think they had time to run away?”

You knew he was right, but you didn’t want to believe him. 

It’s not like it mattered. You had killed plenty of people, both accidentally and intentionally. And those two men weren’t good people. They had wanted you dead. You were just a kid when it happened, too. It was so long ago, the details were fuzzy when you thought back to it. 

But still. How had you not realized that they had died by your hand? Had you chosen to be oblivious for this long? Had a part of you realized what you had done and tried to block it out?

“Badass,” Ace said. He patted your knee gently, bringing you out of your thoughts and back to the present. 

“Yeah.” You gave a weak smile, trying to show that it wasn’t bothering you. 

Thankfully, Thatch finished up his breakfast cooking at just the right time, and everyone immediately forgot what you had been talking about. They were far more interested in food than in embarrassing stories from your childhood. 

Ace extinguished his flames and jumped up to grab food. You watched everyone, trying to force yourself to move, but you couldn’t. You were stuck thinking about those men. 

Thankfully Ace fought the other commanders for double portions and came back with plates for each of you. 

“You okay?” he asked, sitting down next to you. 

“Yeah.” You shook your head a little, trying to clear it and the old memories that had resurfaced. 

“It was nice hearing about your childhood,” Ace said, picking up some bacon. “You sounded cute.”

“They’re going to pay for those stories,” you grumbled, shoving eggs into your mouth. 

“I was told they have some really old bounty posters of you too. I heard you might even be missing a tooth in one of your younger ones.”

You shot him a glare. “You better not go looking for them.”

“Oh darling,” he shot you a mischievous grin. “You know that the first thing I’m going to do after this. And I can’t wait to see them.”

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[bougiebutchbinch]

Im sorry but what about pro-ship? ...You would also cheer people who create it?

And by pro-ship i mean incest, pedophilia, rape, abuse and glorifying all of these things.

I just want to know, no vitriol, no hate.

Okay, so, this is a MASSIVE topic and my thoughts are complex. So, just for the purpose of answering this ask, I'm gonna focus on the biggy here - fictional depictions of pedophilia.

Under a cut because this got long!

I don't wanna read anything that glorifies fictional child sexual abuse in a completely played-straight way. That's a big ol' nope.

But there is a world of difference between depiction and glorification. And I don't think people writing about a horrific situation have to constantly shove it down your throat that Pedophilia Is Bad? This sort of thinking leads to incredibly cringey moralistic fiction that is, frankly, dull.

I love dark fiction! I love gothic novels, and horror, which include rape and incest and abuse and child sexual abuse and all sorts - not all of which is demonised! Some of which is wholeheartedly glorified in order to disgust you!

Some content is meant to disturb you and gross you out and make you look at your own internal 'ick' reactions! Or it's designed to give you the 'fascinated horror' people often get from looking at a car crash with multiple fatalities. That sense of intrigue when faced with taboos is a natural part of the human experience. So long as it is only engaged with in a fictional setting, it's a helluva lot less harmful than rubbernecking out the window of your car at a crash site and causing another accident.

Playing with people's disgust can be very interesting and fun, from a writerly perspective! You can create all sorts of really disturbing horror for the precise purpose of making your audience uncomfortable, and no one is actually being hurt!

Art isn't just about happy emotions, y'know? Lolita isn't pro-child-sexual-abuse despite being written from the perspective of a pedophile, and I'd wager that very, very few people who paid to watch The Human Centipede actually have a scat fetish. They're drawn in by their disgust and revulsion - like many people are to darkfic!

Now, if someone is legitimately creating content that seems to be glorifying fictional child sexual abuse, I won't interact with them for personal trigger reasons. But at the end of the day.... I don't know their story? I don't know why they're doing that.

What I know is: when I went through the worst, most traumatic experiences in my life (which, no, I will not be discussing further x) reading about the same horrible stuff happening to my blorbos legit helped. And not just the stuff where it was depicted realistically, as a horrible traumatic experience, but the stuff where it was 'glorified' too, because it made me feel less alone and awful for having lived in that situation and for having told myself it was normal and healthy.

When you're in a situation like that, sometimes you legitimately cannot tell you are in deep shit. Fics that try to point out that you are in deep shit, invariably feel like they're preaching. A balance of fics that try to point out that, y'know, Abuse And Pedophilia Are Bad - delivered alongside fics that depict that sort of relationshp as ay-okay, actually helped me come to terms with some of the shit in my life. Reading both sorts of fic together, it didn't feel like I was being constantly told I was a Victim.

I think, at the end of the day, fiction affects reality. Just look at propaganda and the affects of white supremacy and homophobia on Western Canon! But it's not a 1:1 impact.

It's more important to encourage readers to use critical thinking when engaging with fiction, than it is to harass writers who have created content that disgusts you.

You don't know why they're creating that content, and you don't know how many people it's helped - and, so long as it's properly tagged, people who need to avoid that content due to triggers can do so!

Obligatory: if someone uses a fic with an underage pairing to groom someone, that is incredibly fucked up and disgusting. But literally anything can be used to groom kids, sadly. You could point at literally anything, and at some point, it will have been used to further a child's horrific and very real abuse.

Overall, if you actually give a shit about protecting kids, I think there are far more important things to focus on. Such as:

Educating communities about how the vast majority of child sexual abuse comes from close family friends and family members, not strangers sending kids fanfic on the internet.

Educating communities about how the word 'pedophile' has been purposefully corrupted by right wingers to demonize completely innocent queer people because think of the children. This isn't to say there isn't a very real problem with child sexual exploitation & abuse, but we should perhaps be a little wary about throwing around a word grounded in serious reality to refer to fictional scenarios, and enforcing the very Right-Wing idea that 'thinking about [x] act is the same as doing [x] act'.

Focusing on children themselves. We should support good sex & relationship education, so children know their bodies and understand appropriate cultural norms. We should educate children about their rights, and give children broader community support structures so that they feel empowered to disclose abuse. Offering time or money to shelters is a great way to actually support survivors.

Ensuring there are safe and free refuges for children who are being abused IRL, places where they can stay away from family & other potential abusers - i.e., public libraries, community centres, etc. - or at least know there are other witnesses. Volunteering at your local library and donating can genuinely make a difference to abused kids - and all kids in general!

Dismantling cultures of silence around abuse in your personal community. Do not just tell the women in the group to avoid Joe because he has wandering hands. Tell Joe that his behaviour is inappropriate and will no longer be tolerated.

TL;DR - personally, please keep any/all sexual content involving fictional underage people FAR away from me, and do not send me any rape or abuse scenarios (unless we're brainstorming whump as friends, in which case, you can just gimme a warning).

But I am also against harassing artists and creators unless they are harming real children in measurable ways.

[nicoline1998enilocin]

I was wondering if we could include Moon, the cat, in a story too? So I was wondering if you could write something like cuddling with Tony and Moon with this prompt >enthusiastic cuddles accompanied by squeaky noises<, but maybe the noises are just the kitty being talkative lol. In case you can't/don't wanna write for Moon, it's okay, no biggie! You can write just for Tony or feel free to ignore this request too, no pressure! Thank you anyway!

A Sunny Secret || Part 1

PAIRING || Fiancé!Tony Stark x Fiancée!Fem!Reader

WORDCOUNT || ~ 975 words

SUMMARY || Your mornings always start the same: Tony asks for a few more minutes of cuddles, followed by a shower as you get ready for work and breakfast prepared by your husband-to-be. However, they’re both much happier this morning than usual, and you can’t get enough of it as you look at your two favorite boys being silly as ever.

RATING || Teen (T)

TAGS || Canon compliant. Established relationship. Former Sugar Daddy arrangement.

A/N || This is written for my Summer of Drabbles. Nonnie, I have been looking forward to this drabble since receiving your request! I feel honored you requested our little Moon, and I’m happy to include him! This story is proofread by the amazing @ccbsrmsf1 for which I'm forever grateful 🤍

Photo: Source || Other graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Tony Stark || Sugar Daddy!Tony Stark || Summer of Drabbles

A groan is heard in the entirely dark bedroom as your alarm goes off, letting you know you must get up soon for a 24-hour shift on the surgical wing of SHIELD's surgical department. You have landed a residency there with some help from your now fiancé, and you're nearing the end, as there are only a few more weeks ahead of you before graduation and the official start as a surgeon, also within SHIELD.

Thankfully, the medical wing is located in Avengers Tower, which means you have the luxury of sleeping in a bit longer today, and Tony, your fiancé, will make good use of the few minutes he has before you need to get up and shower, while he will prepare breakfast for you. This routine has quickly become something you both enjoy before he goes back to bed, as it gives you some much-needed quality time before it's time to head out, and you cherish it every single day.

Once you get comfortable again, Tony wraps a strong arm around your waist before pulling you against his body; the warmth and the soft hum of his arc reactor are immediately noticeable as he does. A smile spreads over your features as you lean into it, and the soft kisses he's placing on your shoulder make you feel very loved as you shut your eyes. You always set two alarms in the morning so you can get some cuddles before getting up.

"Hmm, five more minutes, Sugar," Tony grumbles, and you extend the alarm for five minutes, not wanting to get up either. Once that's done, you turn yourself around to face him, and a small smile tugs at your mouth as you study his soft features, the darkness of his eyes, and the lines forming his expression. Your fingers glide over the stubble on his cheek, the feeling of it making you smile even more.

"I can't believe I got so lucky, Sugar. Each morning, when I wake up next to you, I feel like the most fortunate man on earth, especially when I think about the fact that you're mine," he tells you, and your cheeks start to heat up at his words. His gaze is locked on yours as his fingers gently dig into the soft flesh of your hip as if he's trying to remember this moment forever, but it's rudely disturbed when your alarm goes off, and you finally have to get up to go ahead and shower.

"What would you like to have for breakfast this morning, Sugar? Moon and I will be sure to have it ready for you by the time you're done with your shower," he says while you walk to the attached bathroom. You stop at the door's opening as you think about it, your index finger tapping your chin as you do.

"Some yogurt with berries and granola, please," you tell him, and with an agreeing hum, Tony gets up, pulling on a pair of the sweatpants you love so much. They span around his thick, muscled thighs perfectly and highlight his large bulge as well, and you often take a few seconds to look at it, especially when he's not wearing underwear.

While you're in the shower, your fiancé makes his way to the large kitchen as he passes Moon's large cat tree. He's already awake as Tony walks through the door, and he jumps into his arms skillfully before purring loudly, making Tony chuckle.

"Good morning to you too, Moon! Let's make some breakfast for Mommy, okay?" Tony asks as he nuzzles his face into your rescue cat's soft, dark fur. A long meow can be heard throughout the penthouse, making your fiancé laugh as he pulls back, but Moon isn't as enthusiastic as he looks at Tony, his eyes squinting a bit as if he's trying to say, 'You do that again, and you're not going to be happy.'

As soon as they get to the kitchen, Tony walks to the large fridge to get the things he needs before putting Moon and the ingredients down on the counter and turning on the kettle to boil some water for your tea. Your cat watches with a skillful gaze while your breakfast is being prepared. Tony practically floats around the kitchen at the thought of what he's about to do today - picking out another kitten to gift you when you graduate in about two months.

"What do you think, Moon? Would you like to get a little brother or a sister?" Tony asks as he puts your bowl and cup of tea on the kitchen counter, perfectly timed as you turn off the shower. As you take your time to dry off, do your hair, and slip into your scrubs for the day, Tony is waiting for his coffee machine to make his morning cup of black coffee, while Moon needs more attention.

Without warning, Tony scoops him up before blowing raspberries in his side, making him meow loudly as a way of 'complaining,' though he doesn't do anything to warn him off. Just as you're about to walk into the kitchen for breakfast, you're met by the sight of Moon meowing loudly, his tail wagging like crazy, and your husband-to-be laughing between giving more raspberries and playing with your beloved cat.

"Good morning to you two, as well!" you say dryly while sitting down, and both Tony and Moon look at you simultaneously, making you smile.

"Don't stop on my account; I was enjoying seeing you two doing… whatever this is," you tell them with a wave of your spoon, a smile still on your face. Seeing how happy they are together makes you happy, too, and you're excited to see how close they've gotten since you have adopted the little guy.