#that stone head lying on your pillow

[notmyneighbor]

Let Me in ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 3

Word Count ~ 2.5k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ blood and gore, body horror, character death, minor violence, dubious consent, sexual content

Also available on AO3

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

You sit on the side of the bed that had once belonged to Francis Mosses.

The comforter and top sheet have already been pulled down. You lean over to slide out of your low heeled pumps, tucking the pair of navy leather shoes neatly under the bed.

There’s a bible on the nightstand. A worn looking copy. Beside it a glass with a shallow amount of water resting in the bottom, the remnant of a late night attempt to quench thirst, perhaps.

The doppelgänger watches your movements. How methodical each action is. Slow and deliberate. You’re stalling.

He settles beside you and the mattress creaks as the springs are compressed. That odd sort of shimmer you’d noticed earlier outside the security booth outlines his frame for a brief moment. A surge of light and color as the skin ripples before settling. They still weren’t completely able to disguise what they were. All hope was not lost.

Your own fate, however, seems sealed. You lie down slowly, carefully. You feel as if you are laying yourself to rest in your own coffin. Turning your face ever so slightly to see if there is any trace of the man that had once slept here, some lingering scent or an indent from his face. Nothing but the fragrance of clean linen. The imposter moves as if to join you but you halt him, your fingers closing over his forearm. Your first time touching him and not the other way around. “Take your shoes off.”

The creature snickers, glancing down at the scuffed oxfords he’s wearing. Overdue for a shine. “What possible difference does that make?”

“It’s respectful. You never put your shoes where someone sleeps.”

“He won’t be sleeping here ever again.”

You inhale sharply, wincing. “Please just do it.” You can’t say why you’re so hung up on this. Only that it seems the right thing to do. A small thing in a sea of wrongs that you’re clinging to like a life preserver.

“Fine.” He acquiesces, bending to unlace them. There is no care in his actions. Just brisk, impatient pulls to undo the knotted ties. Then he is lying beside you. Your heads sharing the same pillow. Francis only used a single one, apparently. Preferring to slumber lying with his head and neck rather flat. You always used two fluffy pillows, minimum.

You can hear the sound of music starting to play, emanating from the resident’s apartment next door.

Mia Stone, perhaps. The blonde teacher who was Dr. Afton’s fiancée. You instantly recognize the musical artist crooning through the walls: Billie Holiday.

I say I'll move the mountains

And I'll move the mountains

If he wants them out of the way

You would have loved to play this record for Francis. You envision trying to dance in the cramped space of the living room, twirling around in his arms. “Did he really like my fragrance?” You know the creature could lie, of course. He’d say anything to manipulate you and get what he wanted. But you have to ask. Your heart won’t let you avoid the query.

The dark eyes of the pretender regard you. You detect no malice or dishonesty there. “Yes,” he says simply.

You close your eyes, sighing. “What else did he like about me?”

“Your smile, gifted once you were certain it was really him. The way you covered your mouth when you laugh, making some little relieved joke when you passed his identification and entry request back to him each day. The strands of hair that came loose around your face as the day wore on into late afternoon when he returned from his route. The—”

“—Stop. Please.” Tears well in your eyes. They didn’t sound like the kind of details the deceiver would create on his own. There was a note of truth to them. Genuine recollections. He truly was all that remained of Francis Mosses. A man that had been fond of you. You could have been with him, if only you’d been a little braver.

“You asked me to tell you.”

“I know. It’s just overwhelming.”

Like the wind that shakes the bough

He moves me with a smile

“Your kind is so fond of music. Your milkman was always humming. I don’t see the use for it.”

The your wrenches your heart. He wasn’t yours. Never would be. “It’s a way to expression emotions. When words alone aren’t enough.”

“Hmmm.” He reaches out and you flinch. “Why are you fighting this so hard? This is what you wanted.”

“I didn’t want Francis to die.” You pause, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “Why do you want this?”

”Curiosity. An experiment of sorts. There has never been a union between our kind. Not of this nature. A desire to know what it feels like. To see what might result.”

You shudder. An experiment. Using you like some kind of animal for breeding. A mere whim.

He reaches again and this time you force yourself to hold steady, your chin lifting with a short jerk of defiance. Your hair is his goal. Tucking it back behind one ear. Maybe something the milkman had wanted to do. There’s a sudden softness in the doppelgänger’s eyes. As if the human he’d once been was peeking through at you. You find yourself melting again, your defenses coming down.

I say I'll care forever

And I mean forever

He moves closer to you. Inching over across the white fitted sheet. A thumb strokes away one of the tears that has escaped its prison. He captures the other from the opposite cheek, bringing it to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the droplet. “Salt,” he says, recognizing the mineral.

He kisses you.

You’re not sure if it’s better to think of the man you had loved or not. Was it dishonoring his memory or was it a way to keep him present in some vague capacity? There’s no clumsiness this time. He knows the feel of your mouth. The way to shift against you. Tongue mapping past smooth cheeks and dragging along the carpet of muscle at the base of that maw. Maybe it was better to pretend this was Francis after all. You cup the back of his neck, fingers teasing the edges of his milk chocolate tresses. Curling slightly on the ends. It would be time for a trim soon. Would have been. The illusion you’ve created is crumbling again. Your lips falter, your hand dropping away.

Crazy he calls me

Sure, I'm crazy

Crazy in love am I

“Sweetheart,” the invader murmurs, tasting along your jaw, your neck. “I like the way you smell.” Speaking for himself, not Francis. You hear the sharp intake of air. The hand that had been casually laid across your shoulder slides down until it reaches your breast, gently kneading that globe through the layers of your bra and blouse. “Does this feel good?” His voice is octaves lower than you’d ever heard from the milkman. Slightly raspy and sultry, not unlike the singing voice that permeates through the wood and plaster behind the bed. You don’t dare answer, merely whimpering a little and he seems to take this as an affirmative response.

His hand leaves your breast and finds the top button of your shirt. Always sensible, pure white, part of the uniform standard the company requires. Another threaded plastic disc is pushed through the hole. He works his way down until all those that are exposed have surrendered, the remainder still tucked within your skirt. His fingers part the edges of the fabric encasing your torso, peeling them back to reveal the white satin brassiere beneath. He caresses you briefly through this slick material before tucking inside the cup until he brushes across your areola. Your nipple peaks beneath his ministrations as his lips move back to yours. He is surprisingly gentle, lightly pinching and rolling the aroused tissue. Your body betrays you, responding to the creature’s touch. You should be ashamed, disgusted. Instead you find yourself wanting more.

“Off,” he murmurs impatiently, plucking at your bra before his hand departs your chest. You struggle to sit up and he allows it, watching you pull your blouse free from your skirt and unfastening the cuffs before sliding it off your arms. With a swift gesture borne of long practice you easily pinch and release the hook and eye closures resting along the center of your spine, the cups immediately folding down over the underwire, the straps drooping over your shoulders.

The doppelgänger assists you now, sliding the brassiere off the rest of the way, exposing your chest to him. Your cheeks are pink, flushed like the nipples he’s toying with again, his head bending to suckle at one and a lick of flame sears your core. This is part of the invasive species’ learning process, you think. Taste as important as touch. His mouth moving not with the sole purpose of your pleasure in mind, but as a means to explore flavors and textures. Cataloguing. More of humanity’s secrets unveiled.

There is a song you don’t recognize playing next door now. Muffled voices. You’d had no idea the walls were so thin. Francis had never complained.

You’re shoved back down onto the pillow. His mouth wanders, back up to sample a collar bone, the hollow at the base of your throat, then dips in between your breasts and tastes the skin of your abdomen. You wonder if he can detect the floral soap you’d bathed with that morning, the traces of lotion you’d applied during your hygiene routine.

“I like this,” he says, his breath warm on your body. “You’re so soft. Smooth. Not like…I’ve never taken…” It had often been debated if there were sexes in their species. How they propagated. There was still so much unknown. Was there a reason he’d only chosen men to replicate? Was it simply because he was male himself? You could not explain how you knew it, but there was something distinctly masculine about him. Authoritative. Blunter than a woman would be. A lifetime of being raised to respect decorum had been firmly ingrained in you. Society valuing a woman who knows her place. Taught to be demure, deferring to the wisdom and guidance of their male counterparts. Serving and obeying, like you’re doing now.

The imposter returns his attention to your face. Licking your mouth back open. He likes this, you think. All of what you’d shared thus far, but perhaps the kissing best of all.

The background melody silences and you think you detect the front door opening and closing. You wonder if the couple will be going out to an early dinner. Curious when they find there is no one guarding the building. But not alarmed. Not yet.

Your skirt is being lifted, polyester dragged upward after the copycat’s hasty reach downward to gather the hem. Immediately sliding back down, stroking over your exposed thighs that are clad in nylons that stop midway across each of your upper legs. Nothing fancy, just utilitarian features in a shade of nude slightly more tanned than your own complexion. He nudges against the seal you’ve created by pressing your legs close together. “Let me in, sweet girl.” An echo of what he’d said earlier in an attempt to gain access to the building, now seeking entry into you. You feel your limbs parting for him nearly as promptly as you’d opened the door.

The pretender works his way back up to the fork of your body, teasing along the crotch of the white panties. You gasp and he smiles against your lips. His palm drags over the fabric until his fingers find the elastic waistband and he dips beneath it, running overly the neatly trimmed hair on your pubic mound, following the curve of that padded flesh until your sex is palpated.

Another gasp and a moan escapes you. “So wet,” he remarks, fondling the pink lips, parting the petals with his middle finger to slide through the slick arousal your body is creating, working the lubricant up and down, passing over the hooded nub and then delving back towards your entrance, where more fluid escapes.

It feels good and yet it doesn’t, his fingers too rough and just shy of where you need him. You squirm and wince at the harsh handling of your clitoris and he pauses, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Show me. Show me how you like to be touched.”

You reach down cautiously, guiding his fingers to one side of your sensitive bud, lightly pressing and rolling a fingertip so that your clit is ground slightly against the bone beneath. Alternating now, reaching back down to gather more of your slick before spreading it over that hooded button, a few direct strokes applied before beginning the process again. He replicates your actions and your body responds immediately, a hum of pleasure heating you. You close your eyes and you think of the milkman, the real one, with his kind smile and his tired eyes.

“Francis.” The name escapes your lips and you freeze, the rocking motion of your hips against the imposter’s hand abruptly ceasing. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Alarmed by how easily you’d allowed yourself to give in to the desire, accommodating this make believe passion.

“It’s alright, love. It’s me. I’m here.” His tongue laps at your ear, at the sensitive patch of skin behind it. You shiver and resume grinding against his fingers, letting yourself be deluded once more, your hand curling over his forearm.

“Francis,” you say again, hoping he can forgive you, in whatever form he now occupies, if he is saved as his faith professes he would be, finding redemption and peace, somewhere far from your sinning body that writhes in pleasure from his murderer’s touch.

You push against his hand and he allows it, applying force against the hollow cavity that leads to your womb. “Let me in,” he breathes, and you feel a finger invading your body, shoving through the narrow confines of that muscular tunnel. Withdrawing and spearing again, the digit saturated with your arousal. You moan and lift your pelvis to meet him. Curling inside, massaging that dip of spongy tissue. Crooking each time he enters as if he is leading you forward, beckoning, his thumb drawing circles over your clit. You feel as if you’re on the edge of a chasm, teetering on the rim, about to drop forward into heat and darkness. Keening now. Thighs tremoring violently. Your face turns and your teeth sink into the pillow. “There you go, love. Give it to me. Give in to me.”

The coiling pressure within you snaps and you find release at last, the fabric clenched in your teeth doing little to muffle the sound of your orgasm. You’re drenched in sweat, the aftershocks of your appeased nerves still sizzling through you. The doppelgänger cradles you through all of it, holding you as you ride the waves that exhaust your limbs, making you feel boneless and limp.

“Francis.” It’s a yearning plea, a futile prayer, answered by the thing that is not him, but masquerades as such, crooning to you, whispering false promises, draping you in synthetic affection, a lie you want so desperately to believe.

#thats not my neighbor #francis mosses #milkman #francis mosses x you #francis mosses x reader #milkman x you #milkman x reader #doppelgänger

[merakiui]

100%

yandere!malleus draconia x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, pregnancy, implied baby-trapping, captivity, very vague and slight implications of codependency, angst note - your mobile phone was at 100% when he took you away. with time, the percentage has diminished. so, too, does your hope for a brighter future.

The windowpane is spattered with rain.

Sitting cozy in a cushioned alcove, you watch the droplets slide down in regal rivulets, consolidating to form single streaks. The scenery beyond the window is bleak and dreary—a despondent landscape of gnarled, leafless trees and scratchy brambles stretching towards a dark, dismal sky. Sometimes you liken the rain to tears, wondering if Mother Nature weeps for all creatures or simply for you and your situation. Rare are the days in which the sun shines upon the craggy stone façade of your captor’s castle, and she is as benevolent as she is cruel.

For all of its sumptuous splendor, generational wealth filling the interior with priceless heirlooms and relics, it is an empty, cold structure. You’ve taken to enveloping yourself in thick furs, if only because these furs do not speak like the monster who so humbly offers his embrace. Though you’ve always considered yourself of strong, sturdy mind, your restraint is thinning. As the days pass and you shed clothing sizes like they’re second skins, you find yourself drawn to warmth.

Which is, ironically enough, contradictory to your current temperament. The windows, frigid like the grave, provide solace you cannot find anywhere else—for it is only tender warmth you receive from him. Had he not been so merciful, perhaps it would have been easier to shrink away and truly loathe him with every ounce of your being.

And yet, in order to escape the warmth which enshrouds, you seek the cold, bitter windows and their rain-weary countenance.

Lying beside you on the pillows, snoozing the afternoon away, a calico cat snores idly. She was a gift from him. You were neglectful of your mental health and thus, as per his guard’s suggestion, he sought to find a cat to cure your loneliness and inspire some form of happiness. You appreciate Silver—genuinely, you do—but the good luck a calico brings is not nearly enough to rescue you from captivity.

She was a stray, a scrawny thing with a limp and one bad eye. You took to her right away, scooping her up in your arms and lovingly naming her Cotton. Similarly, she returned your affections, rubbing her head against your palm and purring pleasantly.

Now she likes to nudge the dome that is your stomach, a great, round thing at only six months. Sometimes you think she’s more motherly than you are. You’ve never been able to care for much of anything. Plants wither under your touch, recipes spoil even when you follow them to the letter, and your electronics crack.

Your phone, more fractured than your very heart, is cold in your hands. The screen is blank; it’s dying. It was at 100% before. Now it’s been reduced to a sad 7%. There is no reception or connection to be had in Briar Valley. Your phone, once so powerful and all-knowing, is but a hollow shell. Useless. A digital photo album will expire at its final hour, and there’s no charger. He offered to use his magic to charge it, but he has never known his own strength and you couldn’t risk losing the treasured memories stored within.

Sometimes you’d return to old message logs and read through them. Now you can’t do that, lest you drain the battery quicker than intended.

“So this is where you’ve retreated,” Malleus notes, poking his head around the corner of a towering bookcase. Concern settles on his features. “Are you well? Sebek tells me you were absent for breakfast.” “I wasn’t hungry,” you mutter, watching his reflection through the stormy glass.

Malleus glances at Cotton and then at your phone as it rests in your clasp. “May I trouble you to eat just a little, if only some fruit?”

“I’m not hungry.” He nods, stalling. “Will you join me for lunch?”

“If I must.”

A small smile lifts his lips. “Are you cold? It can’t be very comfortable to sit there for such a long time. You’ll catch your death.”

“I hope.”

He tuts in disapproval and shrugs out of his cloak, draping it over you even though you’re already wearing a fleece robe. Malleus assesses you with a fleeting once-over.

“It doesn’t hurt to layer. You must understand where I’m coming from, dearest. Extreme temperatures serve to weaken those who are already so fragile.”

“I’m not fragile,” you snap, turning to scowl.

He doesn’t flinch at the heat smoldering in your eyes. “You’re human.”

“How many times did you have to practice that to come to terms with it?”

Malleus’s verdant stare narrows; his frown tightens. “It’s the truth.”

“I didn’t think you’d confront it.”

“I must if I’m to understand…” He exhales through his nose, deflating somewhat. “You’re in fine health. The physician tells me so. There’s no need to worry ourselves with ineffectual what-ifs.”

You turn your gaze on the sprawling forest next, unwilling to discuss the report and its subsequent conclusion: If she remains in good health and follows the recommended diet for an expecting mother, she’ll carry to term.

“My phone is dying, Malleus.”

“Is that not life? Lilia once said so.”

“My pictures… My everything is stored in this phone. It means so much to me.”

“Truly? Is there not a way to make physical copies of these photographs?”

“Unless Briar Valley has the technology to do so…”

“I’m afraid not.”

Malleus takes a daring step closer, endeavoring to comfort you. Cotton cracks her good eye open to peer at him. She hisses low in her throat, a protector standing small against something so tall. Pouting, clearly disheartened, Malleus heeds her warning and chooses to linger just within the bounds she deems acceptable.

“Yeah, that’s what I assumed.”

You heave a dejected sigh, your shoulders drooping. Seeking to cleanse your visual palate, you power the device on. 5% blinks back at you, an insignificant number sitting in a corner that you normally wouldn’t have paid much mind to. Now it weighs heavy, a reminder that the end is encroaching.

“I would’ve liked to keep these photos forever,” you whisper, mostly to yourself. Malleus hums his acknowledgement; you think he knows the feeling—or some variant of it, at least. “If I lose these pictures…”

“Do you not have memories?”

“I do, but it isn’t the same. One day I’ll grow old and my memory will be frail. I won’t remember nearly as much as I do now. Those memories will become ghosts and eventually I’ll—”

“You will not.” There’s a finality to the declaration—you won’t leave me; you won’t drain or die like this mobile device.

You rest your head against the window. The cool glass soothes your soul. I wonder what the others are up to right now… You place your hand upon your belly. I wonder if they’d have any good ideas for a name. I’m terrible at naming things. I can never pick something that feels right.

“I’d like to have a funeral for my phone.”

But maybe there is no right thing.

“Of course,” he agrees, perfectly serious. You will have that phone funeral, just as you will have every other request you make—however patently absurd it may seem. (Every other request except for freedom, of course.) “Materials may not have the same worth as a loved one, but the experiences they provide are just as valuable. Surely, no? Otherwise I would not feel so troubled when Roaring Drago…” Pausing to search for the placeholder, Malleus glances at your phone. “Perhaps there is no greater tragedy than existence itself.”

“It’s the most bittersweet burden,” you echo, scrolling through each picture with wistful remembrance. “But then I’d rather know the fleeting frivolity of life than endure hundreds of years of solitude. It makes me appreciate everything that much more.”

You stop at a picture of you and Malleus, a photo snapped by Lilia himself. Part of you often wonders why he chose you—why he adores you to such a degree when you, like everyone else, will inevitably perish. But therein lies the allure: That which is unobtainable is even more tempting. And because there is only one of you, a human destined to one day return to her home world, your very presence is more fleeting than a dream.

To Malleus, who has always dreamt, fond and fervent, of the unobtainable mundanity of normal life, you are a sweet, tangible blessing.

“Horns, do you think I’ll ever get another chance to have my phone at 100%?”

He softens under the nickname. It means more to him than his lofty station. “Would you like to know that joy?”

“It would be nice, yes, but then I’d just get sad when it reaches zero. I guess I should be grateful it’s stayed alive for this long. Sorry, it’s a stupid question. Just forget it.”

“Nonsense. There is no such thing.” He reaches to touch your cheek, but Cotton hisses again and so he refrains. She stands on unsteady legs and climbs into your lap, perching awkwardly in spite of your rounded belly. The sight draws a deep chuckle from him. “Your feline friend is quite taken with you.”

“It’s probably because I’m warm. She likes my belly a lot.”

“As do I.”

You roll your eyes.

“Your beauty is most beguiling. There’s a certain radiance to your person. It’s very charming. Do you not agree?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere—definitely not in Cotton’s good graces.”

“I’m simply voicing a fact.”

Your hand slides down from your stomach to pat Cotton. She purrs under your touch, and a weak approximation of a smile tugs at your lips. Amidst all of this sorrow, she is a glimmer of hope. In a way, she’s like you—a stray without a place in this world, snatched from the cobbles she once wandered and confined in a cage of royal opulence. Your similarities are striking, if not immensely devastating.

“Fact or not, I don’t care if I look pretty. It means nothing to me.”

“To be impartial towards appearances… Quite a noble mindset.”

I never once thought you were scary or strange, Horns. Even now.

You look at your phone once more. 3% flickers back.

You’re just lost, and in being lost you found me. But I was also lost. I never even belonged in this world to begin with…

“I’m not going to be a good mother.”

“You can’t know that.” 

“I can’t even take care of myself.”

“I shall care for you when you find yourself unable to.”

“I’d rather you not.”

With Cotton having curled on your lap, slumbering peacefully, Malleus chances to close the gap. His broad frame leans to make up for the difference in height, and he runs cold fingers along your cheek. He brushes away the tears you weren’t even aware you were shedding.

You grip your phone in shaky hands, your shoulders hunched. There’s a piercing ache in your chest, pain stabbing all the way through to your heart. It persists when you power it off, unable to delight in pictorial reminiscence for a moment longer. Silent like death, you sob; seismic dismay shudders through you in waves. Distantly, in a forgotten corner of your brain, you suspect this may be the last time you’ll ever use your phone. The last time you’ll ever look upon the photos you’ve amassed. Photos of friends, class notes, food. Photos snapped by mistake, blurry and unfocused. Photos taken when Ace and Grim stole your phone. Precious memories are preserved within the permanence of a photo album—an album that only remains everlasting so long as you keep your phone charged.

Your final shred of the world beyond Briar Valley vanishes in a blip, leaving you with the dark void that is an empty screen. Brutal is the agony, contorting your face, and you bawl like you’ve just witnessed the end of a life.

In a way, you have. You held it in the palm of your hands, and you watched it wither. Watched the percentages drop through numbers, double digits easing into singles. Watched every week and tried to spare your beloved phone of its fate. Watched and attempted to stall the impossible—a foolish undertaking. This was inevitable; you knew this, and yet you’re still mourning.

Perhaps that is the most tragic facet of existence. From the moment one is born, they are mourning. Humans mourn losing time—of allowing it to slip through their fingers when they should have put it to better use. Humans mourn aging even though it is celebrated yearly. Humans mourn for things that are inhuman—for robots stuck in an endless cycle of some menial task while gears grow rusted and systems shut down or trapped on a distant planet, never to return home. For the fruit that falls from trees and rots, trampled and forgotten. For the endings, good and bad, of novels. For art that will never see the light of day because it has been destroyed or stolen or silenced. For the friends they meet, have met, and will meet.

You mourn because you know it’s impending, and you spend all of your life coming to terms with it, only to break down when it finally happens because the truth of the matter is that you will never be prepared no matter how much you prepare yourself. You mourn because you’re a complex human with complex emotions, surviving in a complex world with millions of intricacies, and the only way to weather misery is to mourn.

To the little life cradled in your womb, who knows not of these difficulties yet, they cannot fathom the anguish that accompanies loss. And right now that is all you can hope for—a life without loss.

But that is impossible because loss is true to everyone’s experience. It is part of existence, and existence is inescapable.

Malleus does not gather you in his arms. He will do so if you ask, and he knows you want to ask, which is precisely why he waits. But you’re stubborn and you refuse to give in to the temptation, let alone grant him the satisfaction. It doesn’t offend him.

The windowpane is spattered with rain. So, too, is your phone, spotted with tears and snot.

Briefly, you wonder if you still look beautiful to Malleus.

Even at your ugliest, he would still cherish you. Desperately, as if he might lose you.

Knowing this does not soften the gutting grief.

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus draconia x reader #yandere malleus

[keraxxx]

Hate or Jealousy? -Part one

Pairing- Oliver Quick x F!Reader

Summary- When your cousin, Felix, invited his friend Oliver over to Saltburn for the summer, you hated him and didn’t know why.. you want to figure out his intentions.

Warnings- Cursing, possible mentions of ed, slightly bitchy reader(js spoiled n rich so), masturbation, possible stalking, not proof read

A/N-Happy new year! I hope everything is going well for you guys. I just watched Saltburn last night and OH MY GOD. I had to pause the movie a few times and think abt what I had just watched. Still an amazing movie of course and ik I had to write something about Oliver. so enjoy!! (inspo is from venetia and oliver's interactions.) word count- 1.4k

comment to be added to tag list. NEXT PART HERE

Requests are open!

—

For some reason, you didn't like Oliver. You didn't like the way he looked at you when Felix first invited him, it was as if he was trying to undress you with his eyes.. Did you hate him? Were you jealous of him? Or did you find him slightly attractive? You couldn't make up your mind. It was all over the place, emotions poking and showing on your face as you looked at him almost in a judgmental way. You think it was also the way he acted, all sweet and innocent.. his eyes showed someone different. He's hiding himself. but why?

Everyone is sitting at the table, Felix sat next to you and Oliver is sitting across. Everyone is conversing as normal, but you stay silent, nothing in the conversation is peaking your interest since your aunt, Elspeth, is just gossiping. You pick at your plate with your fork, unable to eat a single thing, your free hand messing with the silky fabric of your red dress. You look across the table and look at Oliver, practically glaring at him without a care. His features weren’t bad if you were being honest with yourself. It’s almost as if he knew you were looking at him because he diverts his attention to you quickly. You look back down at your plate, embarrassed he saw you. You saw him smile before getting back into the conversation with the family again.

After dinner, everyone disperses to their room and you walk back to your room. You sigh as you lay down on your bed, spreading out onto the duvet. You curl your pillow in your arms and rest your chin on it. Sighing, you kick your legs up behind you, swaying slightly as you think to yourself.. you think about Oliver. You couldn’t get him out of your head. Why was he so interesting to you? Something about him made you want to investigate him, figure out his intentions but it’s too early to do that now since he just got here. Time passes and you’re still lying down thinking about the whole situation, unable to sleep. Sighing, you hop off your bed and walk out your room.

You sit on a stone bench near the garden, hugging your cold goosebump filled arms as you look out into the distance. You hear footsteps and turn your head to see Oliver, wrapped up in a blanket you assumed he took off his bed. You raise your eyebrow curiously as you look him up and down. “I thought you were sleepwalking.” He chuckles slightly and looks down at you timidly. “Yeah no.” You force a small smile. “Couldn’t sleep , that’s all.” Oliver unravels himself and puts the blanket over your shoulders. “It’s cold out.” He says in a soft tone, puffing out his chest as he inhales. You scan over his boxer briefs with a hidden smirk, his tone arms and stomach staring back at you. “Are you not cold?”

You snap out of your trance and look up. “I am actually. Thanks.” You laugh dryly as you maintain eye contact. Oliver doesn't break it, he keeps his blue eyes locked on yours with an almost untrue smile. "Are you not cold?" You laugh as you refer to his almost naked body. He shakes his head and laughs embarrassedly. "N-No.. i'm fine." You nod your head and eventually look away.

"I see why Felix likes you." Oliver hums in confusion. "You're different.." You stand up, hugging the blanket around you still. "But.. I see you, Ollie." You whisper as you get closer. "I see you hiding." His lips tug up into a small smirk. "Yeah?"

"Yeah.." You look him up and down one last time before walking off, taking the blanket he gave you. His eyes were burning a hole in the back of your head as he watched you with a smug expression.

-

Next morning comes and as usual, the whole family is gathered up again, eating breakfast. Oliver comes and sits in the empty seat next to you. You look down at your thighs and clear your throat before taking a sip of your drink. Oliver conversates with your aunt, attempting to be nice. You look across the table to Felix and hum knowingly. He laughs as he looks at you, shaking his head before going back to eating.

After eating, you, Farleigh, Felix, Venetia, and Oliver hang out near the small lake. You and Farleigh are sitting next to Venetia on the dock, her hair in the water as she lays on her back, Felix and Oliver sitting on some chairs by the side.

"I don't think I like him." You say softly as you look over at him and Felix conversing. "Well he is Felix's toy.." "And we know Felix doesn't like sharing his toys." Venetia says in a teasing yet sarcastic tone. "True.." You hum as you bring your knees to your chest. "You think he'll last long?" You look at them both and they quickly shake their heads no.

"I think Felix is gonna get bored of him soon. He's so clingy.. and he was a nerd no one wanted to sit with at college so." Farleigh shrugs as he tugs at his curls. You stifle a giggle and roll your eyes sarcastically. "Oh stop.. he's such a sweet boy." You say in a softer tone. "Lets not lie now." Venetia scoffs before she laughs. You look over at Oliver again and you can see him eyeing you down.. that same stare that he did when you first met. He's undressing you again. You look away with a small eye roll and continue your conversation with Farleigh and Venetia. "I swear he's hiding something.." You scoff as you look down at your knees. "He's always looking at me as if he's trying to see how much i'm worth.." Venetia lifts her sunglasses up to the top of her head and looks at him. "Maybe he wants to get in your pants." She teases. You and Farleigh laugh and you gently hit her arm.

Its dinner time again and this time you're wearing a long white dress with a fold-over off shoulder look. You're picking at your food, again, still processing Oliver in your head. He needed to get out of your head for god's sake, you didn't like the boy. "So Oliver.." Elspeth starts, "How are you finding it here?" She looks at him with a smile and he smiles back. "Uh- Yeah.. yeah it's nice. I get lost sometimes but I find my way." "Good." She smiles and takes a sip of her red wine. Oliver looks down at his plate with a smile as the small chatter around the table starts up again. He looks up at you and you look back. "Did you ever go to sleep last night?" He asks in a restrained voice, just loud enough for you to hear. You nod slowly. "Mhm.." He smiles at your response. "Good." His words stuck to you, as if he wanted you to say yes.. almost as if you obeyed him in some way. You look down and drag your teeth along your bottom lip, feeling some sort of arousal course through your body, finding its way to your core. You just had to get through dinner.

Dinner is done and thank god it was. You felt as if you were about to burst, it was dreadful. You go to your bathroom, making sure to shut the door, and draw yourself a bath. You run your hand under the water, checking the temperature and immediately hum in satisfaction. You strip yourself of your dress and undergarments, leaving them on the floor by the tub. You sink into the tub, moaning at the nice feeling of warm water against your frigid body. You hum to yourself as you snake you hand under the water and down your stomach, finding your swollen bud. You let out a soft groan as you slowly move your digits against your clit, your hips moving in rhythm. You tilt your head back against the edge of the tub, your mouth left open as you let out inaudible moans. You had yourself yearning for more, the only image in your head is the man you hate, Oliver. You replaced your hand with his, imaging he was with you at the moment rubbing your soaking wet cunt. You whined and moved your fingers faster, your legs lifting up slightly. You bite your lip and cursed to yourself as you felt yourself growing closer to release, your eyes fluttering close. You wanted him so bad but you fucking hated him.

Your whines and whimpers fill the bathroom, probably almost loud enough for the whole manor to hear. You could just imagine him kissing on your neck while he fingers you against the counter of your bathroom, forcing you to look in the mirror while you moan out his name. Your juices dripping down his hand and his groans against your neck vibrating your body. You feel a knot forming in your stomach and you eagerly buck yourself into your hand while you moan uncontrollably. Your back arches and you can your legs shake slightly as you finish. You pant, pulling you hand off your clit. You exhale as your eyes open slightly. Turning your head, you look at the door and noticed it was cracked open. You swore you had shut the door and you bite your lip nervously.

Was someone watching you?

-

#smut #x reader #fem reader #imagine #saltburn #saltburn 2023 #oliver quick #oliver quick smut #saltburn imagine #saltburn movie #felix catton #barry keoghan #barry keoghan smut

[anemptypuddingcup]

Blood is blood. No matter where it’s from.

Vampire Luffy & Law x Female Reader.

Comfort smut short.

‼️Blood warning. Reader’s on her cycle and needs pain relief.

Contains: Y’all this is a little icky yet still comforting. Vampire!Luffy & Law. Reader on her cycle. I think y’all know where this is goin. Heavy pussy eating. Law & Luffy fighting over pussy. Damn babies. Yo I’m not kidding when I say it’s icky, my brain on some crack or some shit- I recommend we don’t talk abt what Law does in the middle of the fic-😭 (Ima put a marker by the part to alert you.)

Raindrops hit the glass of the window as you lie there in the soft yet large and warm bed. You forgot how long it’s been since you’ve gotten out of bed, though you were a little bothered by the cold temperature within your room.

You tried to relax yourself in your bed but a painful little groan leaving your lips as you lie there in pain. Your cramps just refused to cease and you could barely move, the pain kept you frozen in your soft and comfy bed.

“Luffy…Traffy!”

You yell out for their names weakly and immediately hear their footsteps heading towards your door. Luffy pushes the door open and rushes in, his breaths a bit heavy as he stared at you in your bed. “Dumplin’! Sum happened!?” Luffy yells, his body in full alert mode. Law slowly enters beside Luffy, a sigh leaving him as he disregards Luffy’s ignorance.

“M-My tummy…” You whimper, holding your lower tummy as you let out a sharp whine. “Ah? Tummy ache?” Luffy asked, tiling his head. Law clears his throat before walking over to Luffy’s side. “She may be…experiencing some issues Mugiwara-Ya.” Law says, looking down at Luffy. “Like what? Ion know what else ta think other than a tummy ache.”

Law presses a palm to his face and sighs out before looking to you. “Her menstruation cycles on. Something all women go through.” Law tells Luffy, point a finger to him before poking his cheek.

“Her wha now? Mentos?”

“Her period. Is on. Mugiwara-Ya.” Law says firmly to Luffy, though Luffy still didn’t understand what Law was explaining. “Never mind. Though she seems to be in pain from her cramps.” Law points out, standing up straight and away from Luffy.

“Well, what can we do ta help? Don’ we have meds or sum Torao?” Luffy asked, turning over to Law. Law presses his fingers to his chin and sighs out in thought. “We do have painkillers, but I have a different solution. I’d rather try it first than give her painkillers.” Law says, his golden eyes peeking at your worried ones. You slowly sit up, a groan leaving your lips as you propped yourself up against your fluffy pillow.

Law trails over to you, his heels clacking against the stone floor before he stood there above your weakened little frame. “Follow my lead, Mugiwara-Ya.” Law says quietly, climbing onto the soft bedding. Luffy tilts his head and quirks a brow to Law, watching as he rested on your bed. Luffy follows Law’s lead, laying himself onto your bed as well and blinking blankly to you. The bed sinks beneath their weight as they laid flat on their tummies. Law reaches his hand to you and slowly peels back your blankets. You tug them back, pulling them up to your face.

“I-It’s cold…Traffy.” You whisper to him softly, not wanting to pull the blankets off. Law sighs and yanks the blankets back before lying his head against your thigh. His cold tatted hand presses up against your lower abdomen, a heavy hiss leaving your lips as you jolted harshly from the drop in temperature against your skin. Law rubs your lower tummy, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your panties while he massages your lower tummy with his palm. He was trying his best to help you relax before he went any further.

“Torao, don’ tell me we’re jus’ gonna comfort ‘er. Ion have an issue w’that though~” Luffy snickered, resting his head against your thigh while he looks up into your pretty eyes. You sigh out and rest against your pillows, mewling in pain yet slight satisfaction as Law massaged your tummy. “Is this helping?” He asked, quirking a smile to you. You shake your head and whimper out, yearning to turn over onto your side and curl up from the pain.

You try to turn over but Luffy groans out while Law presses a hand to your other thigh. “Ah ah, don’t turn over. I know it hurts but just wait a moment okay?” Law says to you, holding on to your thigh and squeezing it. You whine out in irritation and struggle against them both, not wanting to be bothered much more. Luffy looks at Law and blinks. “Torao, maybe we should get ‘er some meds now.” Luffy says, a bit worried by your pained whining.

“We are about the give her some treatment if she’d sit still.” Law groans out, his brow furrowing in slight irritation. Luffy groans softly as he sits up from your thigh, a soft groan leaving him as he got up onto his knees. Luffy cups your face and stares into your eyes, your whining still there though transparent and more quiet. “Cmon dumplin’, jus’ relax kay? Torao’s gonna help ya feel better~” Luffy says, giving you a soft little smile.

You huff out and look down at Law while Luffy does the same. “You’re helping me too idiot, get down here.” Law sighs out, pressing his palm to his face. Luffy snickers and gets back down with Law, looking up at you. His eyes stares at you cute tummy poking out from you sitting bent. Law traces his fingers along the hem of your panties before slowly sliding them off, a sticky trail of blood disconnecting from your cunt while you shiver in discomfort. Law and Luffy shudder at the scent of your blood and move in closer, huffing out in slight ecstasy from the scent.

‼️ Law slides his thin tongue along the pad of your panties, humming out in ecstasy as he tastes your sweet and rich blood against his tastebuds. He hums out and shudders from your delectable taste, trailing his tongue along his lips. The sticky mixture coats his tongue and throat and he exhaled shakily from the texture and consistency. “It’s even richer down here, and the consistency is just so fucking wonderful~” Law mewls, slurping up the rest of your remaining blood off of the pad before setting your panties aside.

You stare down at him with slight disgust but shrug it off, your mind too stuck on the pain to worry about Law’s little action. “Oi Toraoooo, I wanna tasteeee.” Luffy groans out childishly, his long fingernails scratching gentle along your soft skin. Law and Luffy looks back up at you before smiling all slyly at you.

You blink before looking away from them.

“May we? It may help with your cramps.” Law asked, looking up at you as he begins to press soft yet sticky and bloody smooches against your thigh. You groan out upsettingly and nodded, not caring what they’d do as long as the cramps had ceased and disappeared for the time being. “Y-Yes, anything please…I don’t want to keep hurting…” You whined out, pressing your hand against your head. Luffy and Law look at each other and grab your hips with Luffy moving in first.

“Want the first taste, Mugiwara-Ya?” Law asked, giving him a little smirk. Luffy shakes his head quickly, eager to get a taste at your blood. Law gestures him to your bare and sticky pussy and Luffy moves in closer to you.

He presses a soft smooch to your clit before sliding his long tongue along your sticky and bloody slit, moaning out softly from your taste. Luffy practically buries his face between his your legs, slithering his tongue past your entrance and slurping up your blood through your pussy. You mewl out softly as you felt Luffy’s tongue wriggle inside of your cunt, his tongue practically prodding at your g-spot and making you gasp out and arch your back.

“Mmgh~ L-Luffy~” You gasp out, pressing your hand softly to his head while he slurps at your pussy. Law moves in closer and tends to your clit, his mouth latched against your labia before he begins curling his tongue around your clit. You gasp out at the attention you pussy was receiving, your toes twitching and curling from the pleasure of both of their tongues tending to you.

“Oh f-fuck~ T-That feels so much better~ P-Please keep going~” You moan out softly, pressing both of your hands to their heads. They look up at you with their slit eyes and smile before focusing back to your pussy. Law gasps out and pulls back from your clit, looking to Luffy who was still moaning and slurping up the blood deep inside of your entrance.

“Oi Mugiwara-Ya, don’t hog it all to yourself.” Law huffs, gripping Luffy’s hair and pulling his head back and away from your pussy. You gasp out suddenly as Luffy’s tongue slid out of your pussy easily, a groan leaving past his lips as his brows furrowing with irritation. “I wan’ s’more Torao!” Luffy frowned, glaring at Law. Law grits his teeth, his fangs showing as he moves Luffy out of the way before moving his own face close to your entrance.

Luffy pushes Law, squishing his face against his as he moves back in closer to your entrance. You watched as they bickered and let out a worrisome whimper, pressing your hands to their heads again. Both of the bickering men slide their tongues past your entrance making you gasp suddenly before letting out a loud little moan. You arch your back as you feel both of their tongues wriggling and run along your sweet spot, biting your bottom lip form the pleasure.

Law presses his thumb up against your clit and rubs little circles against it, making you release your voice from the sweet attention. “O-Oh~ S-So good!~ Too much!~” You whine out, your brows furling from the pleasure while biting your bottom lip tightly. Luffy and Law mewl out, their hands clawing at your hips and coating your skin in scratches. You whine out and squirm a bit beneath their lips, your tummy growing hotter as you felt your orgasm building up deep inside.

“F-Fuck! I-I’m gonna cum!~” You moan out loudly, your hands now gripping their strands a bit tight while you huff out heavily. Luffy moves away from your entrance once again, moving Law’s thumb to tend to your clit with his tongue. He suckling and smooches at your clit, groaning out sweetly as he tries his best to pull your orgasm with his tongue and lips. “Cmon dumplin’, don’ hold it back from us~” Luffy whines, suckling on your clit a bit harder and sliding his tongue against it.

Law continues to lap his tongue against your g-spot, his hand pulling your hip closer into both Luffy’s lips and his. “I-I’m gonna!- M’Gonna!” You gasp out loudly and shudder against them, creaming around Law’s tongue while Luffy slides his tongue along your entrance to get a little taste of your entrance. Law pulls his face away and chuckles both his chin and Luffy’s sticky and covered in your blood and essence. “S’good aren’t you? Did that help your cramps precious?” Law asks tilting his head.

You nodded and lie back, a yawn leaving your lips as you grew…rather tired yet extremely relieved and satisfied. Law pulls back and pulls on Luffy’s collar, pulling him away from you. Luffy looks down and picks up your panties before sliding them back onto you, the pad cold and making you shudder as it met with your warm slit. “Rest well and please, don’t hesitate to ask for our help again, ________-Ya~” Law says, smiling as he got off of your bed.

You hum out before relaxing against your pillows, another yawn leaving you before you slowly shut your eyes. Luffy lord there beside you, wanting to relax and rest with you while you slept. “Are you staying in here with her, Mugiwara-Ya?” Law asked, turning back to Luffy. “Mhm…Wanna make sure m’dumpling’s okay…Wanna stay here w’her…” Luffy says sleepily, kicking off his sandals and laying his entire body onto your bed. Law sighs and nods before stopping at the doorway.

“Make sure you clean yourself up please.” Law says before walking out of bedroom, closing the door behind him. Luffy moves in closer to you but makes sure not to move his chin and mouth anywhere near you.

He relaxes with you, his back up against the headboard with his arm pulling you closer into his embrace.

#puddingspookyseries #puddingsperiodseries #dividers -> cafekitsune #one piece #one piece smut #one piece fluff #op smut #op fluff #one piece x female reader #one piece luffy #op luffy #luffy smut #luffy fluff #monkey d luffy #luffy x female reader #one piece trafalgar law #op trafalgar law #trafalgar law smut #trafalgar law fluff #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x female reader

[crashandlivewrites]

@soapsgf and I were feeling gay so we wrote lesbian fics for each other <3

Pairing: fem!Ghost x fem!reader (or rather, stone top butch Ghost x pillow princess reader)

CW: MDNI 18+ content, NSFW, cunnilingus, mention of a strap, relationship insecurities, Ghost communicating (?!?!), use of daddy one (1) time

Word Count: 2.1k (this was meant to be a drabble oops)

You were cuddled up on the couch late at night in your small flat you shared with your girlfriend, Simone, whenever she was back from deployment. Your hands had slithered their way underneath her jacket and shirt, leeching the warmth from her body as she had one of her muscled arms thrown casually over you, keeping you tucked into her side as her fingers traced mindless patterns over your body.

Playing on the tv was a reality show you enjoyed, yet tonight you weren’t really paying attention to it. Simone had even chimed in a few times, to show her interest in the show for you, but her statements and questions remained unanswered. It wasn’t until something ridiculous happened that would normally have pulled a barking laugh from you that she decided enough was enough.

Switching the tv, she placed a hand over your shoulder, shaking you lightly.

“You gonna tell me what’s been rollin’ in your head since I got home or not, pretty girl?” Her voice startled you, breaking you out of your daydream as you pulled back from her, furrowing your brows.

“What? I’m sorry, wasn’t listening.”

“Clearly.” She gave you a pointed look. “Wanna know what’s on your mind, lovie. You haven’t been right since I got back.”

“Nothing. Just tired. Been a long day.” You tried to dissuade her, waving your hand as you reached over her to take the remote, only to my stopped by her firm fingers on your wrist.

“I’m not stupid, nor blind, love. You haven’t been yourself. You’ve been quiet.”

Cursing inwardly, you looked away from your overly observant girlfriend, trying not to show your discomfort. Of course, she’d noticed the small things that no one else would. Your brows furrowed and you wrung your fingers as you tried to search for the right words. Simone just sat there, a reassuring hand against your shoulder, letting you know she was there to listen. She always was.

“It’s stupid… really, I don’t know why it’s affected me so much.” The hesitancy was evident in your voice, and her eyes narrowed slightly.

“It’s not nothing. It’s got you in a tiff.”

“It’s…” You faltered, eyes flicking around the room as you were unable to look at her. Only when her hand reached out to grip your jaw did you force yourself to meet her gaze and continue. “It’s about sex.”

“What about it?”

“I just… don’t you feel left out?” Her brows knitted together, and she angled her head, signalling for you to continue. “I feel like I’m always just lying there when we have sex. I do nothing. You’re doing everything, Simone, including getting me off but not yourself. Don’t you hate that?”

Her hand went soft on your jaw as her thumb stroked your cheek, eyes boring into yours.

“What stupid video have you seen now?” Blinking, you cocked your head and looked at her in bewilderment.

“How did you—”

“Doesn’t take much. Let me guess, some wanker of a broad on tiktok made a video about how pillow princesses are lazy and should do more work, hmm?” Simone leaned forward, getting into your space as you stared at her, dumbfounded.

“But isn’t it true?”

“I think you’re missing the point of the term, princess.” She elongated the term of endearment as her hand ran down your neck. “I like making you feel good. Just you. Besides, the way you sound when you come, who wouldn’t want to hear that?”

Your face heated and you tried to push her away in protest as she smiled, flashing a toothy grin before running her tongue along her lips. Though her words struck a chord with you, there was still some lingering doubts swimming in your head.

You could count the total amount of times you’d gotten her off with your own mouth or fingers on one hand. The queasiness in your stomach, however, didn’t fade with her reassurance.

“Do you not like me in that way?” Your voice was small and filled with shame, as if you already knew the question was stupid, but you couldn’t stop the feeling from clawing its way up. Simone’s eyes softened and her long fingers ran along the back of your head.

“Lovie, it’s not like that. You know it takes me a lot to want to be in the mood to receive. It’s got nothing to do with not wanting you. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“But your job is stressful! Surely you’d want some release when you come back?”

“You’re my release, princess.” She whispers, voice lowering as she leans in. “The way you’re so obedient for me, how you spread your legs so eagerly, how wet you get when my fingers barely graze your skin… you’re a fucking sight, princess. And you’re mine.”

The drop in her tone sent a rush of arousal through you. Pursing your lips and squeezing your thighs together, you whine in protest.

“I want to please you!”

“You do fuckin’ please me, lovie. The sight of you on our bed, legs spread open, begging for me to touch you like a good little slut. My good little slut. Makes my head spin. Hearin’ you scream my name as you squirt over my face? A fucking godsend.”

Simone was now shuffling over the couch into your space. You felt the sturdy armrest pressing into your body as you leaned back, face heating and heart thumping. True to her words, your legs were unconsciously spreading for her, accomodating her broad frame as she nestled between your thighs, her large hands caressing your pliant one.

“Simmy…” Your voice was barely above a squeak as she cocked her eyebrow up at you, the smirk on her face deadly.

“What is it, my little princess? What do you need?”

“You.” Simone hummed, shaking her head.

“More specific, princess. You know the rules.” Her hands slid up your thin shirt, tweaking at your nipples and drawing a gasping moan from you.

“Mouth… want your mouth Simmy please.”

“My mouth where?” She pressed, squeezing your tits now in her large hands as her mouth descended on the bare skin of your stomach, pressing soft kisses as she waits for you to reply.

Moaning both in delirious pleasure and frustration, you managed to lift your head up and look down at her with a frown.

“You’re so cruel.” You pouted accusingly at her, and she laughed darkly in response, but she didn’t make any further movements. Not able to resist any longer, you tilted your hips up so they were closer to her mouth. “Want your mouth on my pussy and want you to make me come.”

This time, your girlfriend grinned wickedly, adjusting you both so your legs were thrown over her muscled shoulders.

“My good fucking girl, using her words. Gonna reward you for that.” And she did.

Her lips immediately latched onto your clit after pushing your underwear aside, dragging her tongue up your slit as she moaned, fingers digging into the plushness of your thighs. Moaning into your cunt, she moved down, tongue lapping over your wetness as your fingers wound their way into her hair.

She usually buzzed it short whenever she left for the field, then let it grow. Right now, it was just long enough for you to tug at with your fingers as you cried out her name. Simone had always been godly with her mouth, and tonight was no different.

Tonight, she was taking her time with you, pressing soft kisses over your sensitive flesh, her tongue sliding languidly up your cunt, delving into your wet hole and groaning at your taste.

“So fuckin’ wet f’me lovie. Practically dripping on our couch.” Our couch, she says. You grin amidst the pleasure, thinking about how quickly Simone began to call your home hers as well.

Sucking your clit back into her mouth, she reached down so the pads of her fingers were prodding at your soaked entrance. Clutching at her hair, you rolled your hips, eager to feel the delicious stretch as she pressed her long fingers into you. But she didn’t. Instead, she clicked her tongue and pulled back.

“So greedy tonight, princess. What was all that talk about earlier? Wanting to do all the work? No sweets, you belong here, beneath me writhing and moaning like the little slutty princess you are.”

“Simone.” You whined, rolling your hips once more as your cunt throbbed in need.

“Look at you.” She cooed, grinning salaciously as her eyes raked over your body, clothes having been shoved haphazardly out of the way. “Looking like a proper slag now, princess. Cunt all wet and swollen, perfect tits out on display. Should take a photo.”

Your lips parted at the suggestion, the debate waging in your head.

“Is that what you want?” She hummed thoughtfully.

“Probably not. As much as I’d love to show you off and brag to the blokes that you’re a fuckin’ babe, you’re mine, princess. And only I can see you like this.” To back up her words, Simone’s teeth dragged possessively along your inner thigh, wringing out another moan from you.

Returning her attention to your clit, she flicked it with the tip of her tongue, the barest stimulation still sending shivers up your spine and making your thighs clench around her ears. Ghosting her middle finger down your slit, she pressed it inside you, groaning at the ease.

“Fuck lovie… never gonna get over that feeling.” She pressed another in for good measure and curled, making you squeal and grip her hair tightly, holding her face to your cunt as she ravished you.

“Please… oh god please Simmy. ‘m gonna come.” You panted, heat pooling in you. She pulled back, thumbing your clit as she grinned down at you, fingers still plunging into your slick hole.

“Yeah? You gonna be a good girl for me and come, aren’t you? Gonna make a mess all over our couch and make it smell like you?” Now it was her turn to moan as she leaned back down, alternating between her tongue and thumb as she spoke.

“Love the way you smell, the way you taste… I’d live off you if I could, sweet girl. My good girl. Mine.”

“Yours, Simmy… always yours.” You managed to get out, head spinning as your fingers tightened. You were spiralling, her attentiveness to you was unparalleled, knowing exactly where to press, flick, and suck.

Unable to contain the feeling, you cried out, one hand flying to grip the couch below you as your back arched and thighs trembled. You could feel your pussy pulsing around her fingers, clenching around them tighter as the coil in your gut tightened. Your body was tantalisingly close, perched on a knife’s edge before the spring snapped and you moaned her name as your eyes fluttered closed, head tipping back.

Simone hummed contentedly into your pussy, lapping gently as she worked you through your release. Once your body had sagged back down onto the couch and your walls had stopped spasming around her fingers, she lowered back down to place a soft kiss on the hood of your clit. Jerking from overstimulation, you whined softly, but giggled as you opened your eyes blearily to look up into her smiling face.

“So fuckin’ pretty, lovie.” She whispered before diving in to claim your mouth, tongue immediately pressing in so you could taste yourself. Pulling back just as quickly, her eyes darkened with lust, she looked down at you, head cocked slightly.

“Got an idea, princess. Since you had all that talk about doing some work in the bedroom, why don’t you get out that strap of mine that makes you scream?”

Drawing your lip into your mouth, you nodded eagerly, quickly getting up on shaky legs as you stumbled to the bedroom. You could hear Simone laughing as you walked, but you didn’t care. Returning, strap in hand, you held it out to her.

It was a mean thing, cruelly thick and curved, large enough to hit that spot inside you that made you cream with ease, and she knew it too. Standing up, Simone loomed over you, shucking off her jacket and pants revealing her hulking frame, she tugged on the strap before sitting back down on the couch, legs spread in a way that made you want to crawl between them and worship her. But she had other plans.

“Want you to ride me, lovie. Ride my cock until you can’t take it anymore and need me to take over. Wanna watch that pretty face fall apart as you realise you can’t come without me, then I’ll plow you into the couch.” Whining softly, you crawled into her lap, positioning yourself over her strap.

“Be a good girl and ride Daddy’s cock, like a pretty little slut.”

#crash writes #cherry 🍒 #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #ghost smut #fem!ghost x reader #fem!simon riley x reader #call of duty #call of duty smut

[prazinos]

Love At First..Sight?

Summary ~ You’ve been pining over Ajax Petropolus for what feels like forever. But there’s no way he could reciprocate your feelings, right? You would actually be surprised

WARNINGS ! ~ Minors DNI | Sexual Innuendos | Fluff

You always liked the young gorgan boy with his sweet smile and lovely sense of humour. You’ve had a tiny crush on him for a while but you’d never act on your feelings of course, but your friends were getting sick of you pining over him

‘Oh my god Y/N just go and talk to him, he won’t bite!’ Bianca groaned, you ignored her attempts at trying to get you to fess up ‘the worst he can do is say no!’ She continued.

‘What’re we talking about?’ Enid asked walking over to the table you, Bianca, Wednesday and Xavier were sitting at. Bianca groaned rubbing her eyes with her hands

‘I believe they’re talking about Ajax, Cara Mia’ Wednesday said, not looking up from her book. You watched as Enid’s eyes lit up from the nickname, and you wished Ajax would call you something like that. Enid sat down next to Wednesday resting her head on Wednesdays shoulder grimacing at what Wednesday was reading.

‘Okay listen, Y/N, you are gorgeous, funny, kind, smart, what’s there not to like?’ Bianca asked

‘I don’t know, I just don’t think he reciprocates my feelings’ you respond gloomily.

You walked next to Bianca in the large, long hallway. Thinking about Ajax once again, what can you say? He was gorgeous and you’ve always seen glimpses of his snakes when one of them comes out from under his beanie but you wondered what he would look like without the beanie. Granted, you would be stoned but you think being stone for a few hours is worth seeing his ‘hair’.

You and Bianca finally arrived to Serial Studies and watched as Bianca ran to sit next to Xavier, which confused you. While yes they’re on good terms and are friends after they broke up, she’s never rushing to sit next to him.

You look around the room for a free seat and notice there’s only one. Next to Ajax. You glared at Bianca and Xavier who both just snickered.

As you sat down Ajax gave you a tight lipped smile before writing down some notes.

You finally heard the sweet melodic sounds of Nocturne in A minor. Signalling that class was over, you quickly walked out of the classroom not being able to control the blush on your neck and face. You practically ran back to your dorm slamming it shut with your telekinesis and had a pillow to fly towards you before screaming into it, what if Ajax realised you had a crush on him? What if he thought you were weird? What if-

You heard knocks on your door and you groaned, walking over to it before swinging it open

‘Enid we’re not supposed to hang out until seven’

You cut yourself off when you noticed that there wasn’t a bubbly multi colour haired girl standing in front of you, instead a tall lanky snake haired boy stood before you. Your eyes widened before he spoke

‘Hey uh-sorry I didn’t mean to intrude I just noticed that you kinda dropped something and I’m here to, you know give it back’ Ajax said awkwardly, you looked at his outstretched hand taking the piece of paper that was being held.

You unfolded it to realise it was a drawing that Xavier had done for you, it was of yourself and Ajax sitting on a windowsill drinking from plastic cups, talking. Well you were laughing. Something that had actually happened at a party, Xavier had drawn it for you for your birthday and you had kept it in your notebook because you love looking at it.

Ajax must’ve noticed your flushed face and he stepped inside, and closed the door

‘Look um Y/N I was never gonna say anything but I um-I think you’re really pretty and cool and smart and god you always make me laugh and sometimes when im lying in bed thinking about you I wonder if your thinking about me and it sounds crazy I know but-‘

You cut him off by shoving him against the closed door with your telekinesis and grabbing him to pull him down by his collar before kissing him,

He froze at first before relaxing into the kiss and moving one of his hands to your jaw, then your cheek. You smiled into the kiss as did he. You don’t think anything could feel better than this.

After what felt like forever you finally pulled back feeling lightheaded after kissing for so long. You opened your eyes only to jump back in fear

Ajax looked mortified as he heard hissing and looked down to see his beanie on the floor. What he didn’t understand was how you weren’t stoned

After your initial shock and after calming down realising you weren’t stoned nor were going to get stoned, the snakes looked at you in almost admiration,

Ajax was still frozen still, did you think his snakes were weird? Terrifying?

‘They’re so cute oh my god’ you said reaching out to his head, the snakes allowed you to lightly pat them with the tip of your finger and Ajax relaxed ‘i don’t even know how I’m not stoned’ you continued.

Ajax smiled as his leaned down to kiss you again. You giggled into the kiss as you felt the snakes tickling the sides of your face, Ajax broke away laughing as well and he hugged you.

‘panemorfi’ he whispers into your hair

‘What?’

‘Gorgeous’ he smiles down at you. You smile back a warmth covering you from head to toe, you always thought it was cute how Wednesday called Enid Cara Mia but being called panemorfi by Ajax it was something else, the way it rolled off his tongue sent shivers down your spine.

You glanced at the clock before glancing back down at the boy who was asleep, his head resting on your stomach. You smiled as you stroked his snakes carefully and lightly. But the sweet moment was cut short as Bianca, Xavier, Wednesday and Enid burst through the door.

You were quick to pull the blanket over Ajax as you didn’t know if he would still stone them while asleep.

‘We’re supposed to be hanging out Y/N, what do you think you’re doing?’ Bianca asked

‘I-um nothing I guess I just fell asleep’ you answered hoping to be convincing

‘You’re a terrible liar Y/N’ Xavier sighed.

All of their eyes widened as they noticed your blanket move that couldn’t have been you. Then they heard yawning

‘What? Why am I-‘

You cut Ajax off by grabbing the beanie you had next to your pillow and shoving it over his face

‘Woah what were you guys doing?’ Bianca asked smiling wickedly

‘I believe the term is cunnilingu-‘

Wednesday attempted to answer before a hand was slapped over her mouth by Enid

You pulled the blanket down revealing Ajax and everyone gasped, Ajax smiled sleepily at them yawning again

‘He wasn’t doing anything I swear he was just asleep on my stomach and he had his snakes out and I didn’t know if they still work when he’s asleep’ you answered.

‘What that’s not possible just say that he was getting a taste of your-‘ Xavier groaned as Enid elbowed him in the stomach.

‘Actually it is possible, some have the ability to not be stoned if the gorgan is in love with them’ Bianca said casually.

You looked down at Ajax with wide eyes as he looked up at you, he looked so cute like this, he looked like a puppy and you smiled at him before tapping his side telling him to get up. He rolled off you before you went to your closet, quickly changing (out of sight) and back towards your friends.

‘You’re welcome to join us Ajax’ Xavier said smiling

Ajax nodded, adjusting his beanie before jogging over to you guys.

As you walked down the hall you, Wednesday, Enid, and Bianca walked in a line and behind you the boys were talking. Faintly thought you all heard a disturbing conversation.

‘So dude do you have like snakes for pubes?’

‘XAVIER!’

A/N ~ Wow two in like a few hours although this one isn’t smut ! Also please know I did use google translate </3

I also will be doing requests as soon as I do a post about boundaries and stuff <3

Thank you whoever said Cara Mia was Italian not Spanish oh my god I’m an idiot 😭

Please let me know if you enjoyed this by Liking, Reblogging, Commenting, or following!

Cara Mia ~ My Beloved {Italian}

Penamorfi ~ Gorgeous {Greek}

Thank you my loves <3

#ajax x reader #ajax petropolus #ajax petropolus x reader #wednesday the series #wednesday tv show #wednesday x reader #Xavier Thorpe x Reader #nevermore #fluff #Ajax fluff #Ajax Petropolus fluff

[roosterbruiser]

For the requests: Hangman's girlfriend (also a pilot) overworking herself and passing out and he just takes care of her? There's not enough soft hangman out there

𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮

𝐚 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

When you come to, you're laying on something hard. A groan falls from your chapped lips as you throw your arm over your face to shield yourself from any onlookers.

Before you even open your eyes, just between that strange blackness and the blinding sun seeping in from the windows, you remember what happened. You achingly, embarrassingly remember what happened.

You fainted. You fucking fainted like one of those ditzy girls in the movies from the 40s. You, a Lieutenant Commander and Top Gun graduate and permanent member of the Dagger Squad, fainted in front of everyone.

It's enough to make your cheeks red.

You've been a bit overworked as of late.

You're the maid of honor at your best friend's wedding and it is rapidly approaching, practically licking at your heels at this point. You're also teaching a new course at the academy that has proven to be rigorous--especially when you're in a room with 20 beta versions of Jake Seresin, who you already get enough of between base and your shared home. Additionally, Jake has been talking about the two of you moving out of your house and into something with more space. You know that he isn't just talking about space for your stuff, either. And although the prospect of sharing a life with Jake is downright butterfly-inducing, you've just got a lot on your plate.

You're spread thin. Entirely too, too thin.

You'd simply been strolling along the tarmac after a successful training simulation, listening to Bob talk about the most recent Ted Chiang book he'd just finished. You were hungry, having not had lunch yet, and you were probably a touch dehydrated, too. You'd accidentally left your water bottle at home that day and didn't care to buy any plastic bottles from the vending machine. And you hadn't slept very well on account of planning a road trip to Las Vegas for the bachelorette party after the bride had a change of heart. You'd also just pulled a solid 8-G's in your craft. No big deal, you could handle it all. You always did--Hell, it was your duty to handle it all.

Until you couldn't. It wasn't even a slow decent into it--one minute you were listening to Bob's sweet voice underneath the San Diego sun and now you're blinking up at the ceiling in the infirmary.

"Fuck me," you grumble, shaking your head.

"Not in front of Nurse Bledso, angel," you boyfriend murmurs. You know without even glancing in his direction that he's grinning at Nurse Bledso. "How you feelin'?"

You realize, suddenly, that your head isn't lying on a pillow. It's lying on his lap--that hardness beneath your head is the powerful muscle of his thigh.

You're still getting your bearings as you blink at the tiles on the ceiling and the crisp white walls and the bright lights. You feel moderately okay besides the headache pounding behind your eyes and a tender spot across the knuckles on your left hand.

But then you see Jake. He's looking down at you already, calloused fingers carefully raking through your hair. His face is very soft, eyes swimming with concern and brows knit just slightly.

"Like I fainted," you mumble, frowning.

He looks up at Nurse Bledso, who's watching the two of you from her desk, shaking her head softly.

"She's still got her wits about her, nurse," Jake says, mockingly wiping sweat from his brow. "Thank God!"

You just shake your head softly, biting your lip when he smiles down at you again.

"Did everyone see it?" You ask.

Embarrassment is what you feel most predominantly. Sure, there are still knots in your shoulders and there's still a stone sinking in your belly and you have a sheen of cold sweat over your pasty skin, but what's really bothering you is the thought of collapsing on the tarmac in front of all your fellow Navy-members.

"No," Jake says quickly, seriously. He understand you--he knows you better than anyone in the world, probably--and knows that he shouldn't chide you about this. "Promise, angel."

You sigh in relief, swallowing hard.

"Feel like my head should hurt more than it does," you say, reaching up to check for tender spots. There are none--at least not on your scalp or face. You'd assumed you were going to wake up with stitches in your face or on a little patched of shaved hair on your head. "Did it bounce off the tarmac?"

Jake's cheeks grow a bit pink as he shakes his head, continuing his soothing motion of combing your hair. He must've taken it out of your bun for you and worked all the gel out of it knowing that a tight hairdo would do very little to help your headache.

"I caught you," he says, shrugging gently.

He's a little bit embarrassed about it. It surprises you, because if your boyfriend has been anything in the years you've been together, he's been cocksure and corny. Always very sure of himself and in control, Jake loved to be chivalrous and do things like pull your chair our or open your car door--and he did it all with a mega-watt grin. But right here in the infirmary, holding your heavy head on his lap, combing your hair carefully--he feels that it's a vulnerable thing to admit to you.

Jake had been watching you from the moment your jet landed. He was always watching you--it was just something that happened naturally. He'd always listen to the comms when you were in the air, he wandered out to the tarmac when he know you'd be landing soon, and he was always angling his face towards the sky when you were soaring inside it. It wasn't an accident that he was servicing his plane as you were due to head back on base.

He knew something was wrong as you walked past him without even glancing in his direction. It was like you had tunnel vision (which you legitimately did). He wasn't a fan of the paleness of your face in comparison to the flush in your cheeks or the little stumble in your step. Already he was walking towards you, meaning to innocently ask you if you were doing okay, when you dropped like a goddamn sack of potatoes.

He didn't even realize what he was doing, his body just responding all on its own, until his knees were scraping against the concrete and he was cradling your limp form in his arms. Bob turned around just in time to see it, gaping at you and Jake.

"Jesus, Jake! Is she okay?" Bob asked worriedly, dropping his helmet on the tarmac.

Jake looked down at your parted lips and slacked brows, assessing you for any external damage. He was worried he had been just a fraction too late--that maybe your head had scraped the concrete or your face had collided too hard against his elbow. But you looked fine--well as fine as you could when you were unconscious.

He carried you to the infirmary, both his knees throbbing. He knew as soon as he felt a sticky warmth on his calves that his knees were scraped through his flightsuit. But it didn't matter to him--not when you were so entirely limp in his arms. He hated to see you so helpless.

"You caught me?" You ask quietly, knitting your brows.

He playfully pinches your nose, still being very gentle with you as he mockingly rolls his eyes.

"Is that so hard to believe, angel?"

You're at a loss for words. An overwhelming feeling is washing over you, one that is choking you up and inducing tears on your waterline and making a puddle of something sticky-sweet settle in your belly.

"No," you whisper, voice cracking. "That's not hard to believe."

If you two were alone, Jake would have no issue leaning down to kiss you. Hell, he wouldn't even mind kissing you in front of Nurse Bledso. But he knows that you care about professionalism--being a woman in the Navy, you worked hard to get the respect you should've just been given--so he refrains. But he knows--and let's face it, you know just as well--that you're in for a proper spoiling tonight. Sure, Jake would chastise you for your late lunch and for not simply sharing his water bottle, but more than anything--he was just going to thoroughly take good care of you tonight. Maybe he'd even make you take the day off tomorrow. He was heavily considering taking over your duties as maid of honor temporarily just to take the pressure off your shoulders--well, that and he knew he'd look good in that olive green dress.

"How's the knee, Lieutenant?" Nurse Bledso suddenly pipes up, glasses perched low on her nose.

Jake cringes, nose wrinkling. Thanks for that, Nurse.

You try to sit up slightly, furrowing your brows as Jake sheepishly sighs and presses you until you're lying back again.

"They're fine," he tells Nurse Bledso before looking back down at you with his eyes wide and calm. "They're fine, angel."

But it hurts you to think about Jake getting hurt. And God, you're laying on his legs right now--you're worried you're going to wound him so you start to sit up again before he carefully puts his palm in the middle of your chest and guides you back against his lap.

"But Jake," you try, but he shakes his head softly.

"M'right as rain, angel. Worried about that hand of yours, though."

As if on cue, the knuckles of your left hand are suddenly throbbing. You hesitantly bring your hand to your vision, expecting some sort of nasty gash, but it is bandaged in a pristine white wrap.

Jake carefully takes your wounded hand in his, inspecting it as if he's the one who bandaged it.

"Sorry I didn't get there in time," he mutters to you, looking down at you again.

He's truly sorrowful--your poor, sweet hand got injured. If he had just leapt forward a moment earlier then he could've collected all your limbs and saved you from any hurt at all. It makes his throat ache when he thinks about the scars that will mark your knuckles now.

But you are swooning on his lap.

"Baby, if you hadn't been there, my brain would've been mush," you reason, wrapping your fingers around his.

He sighs. He supposes you're right. Things could've gone a lot worse if he hadn't been there precisely when he had been. He loves Bob and he knows Bob loves you, but Bob was none-the-wiser as he moseyed on beside you. When it came to your safety, there was only one person in the world he trusted and it was himself.

"Don't have much faith in old Baby On Board, do you, angel?"

That has you grinning, laughter tumbling out of your dry mouth despite the throbbing in your temples.

Oh--Jake didn't know his shoulders were practically up by his ears until they relax at the sound of your laugh. You're okay. You're really okay. He knew you weren't seriously injured or sick--logically, he knew that. But carrying your limp form across base and having to let the nurse take over had proven to be more difficult than he cared to admit. He loved you more than anyone--anything, really--in the universe. The thought of something as simple as dehydration and stress hurting you the point of serious harm was making his head hurt.

"You sure your knees are okay, baby?" You ask this softly, concern written all over your features as your laughter dies off and your smile fades. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

He shakes his head at once, his heart sitting in his throat. Here you are in the infirmary and you're asking how he is. It's laughable, really--but it's so you. And he loves you so much.

"Gonna take a lot more to take me down than some silly old scabs, angel," he sighs, carefully kissing each of your wounded knuckles over the thin cotton wrap. "Hell, I'd break both my knees to catch you."

You want to roll your eyes--but you can't. You know he's telling the truth. He'd do anything in the world to hold you safely in his arms.

He's surprised when you lean up to kiss him. It isn't a steamy kiss, isn't one that would lead to anything more. It's a chaste and sweet thing, your hand resting on his cheek, your lips dry. But it makes him giddy anyway.

"Gonna make me start calling you a hero now?" You tease, affectionately swiping your thumb across his cheek.

He grins, chuckling.

"Now? You weren't calling me one before?"

There's that laugh of yours again--it's enough to make Jake release a breath that's been sitting in the middle of his chest since the two of you came into the infirmary.

"Someone's gotta deflate that ego," you tease, resting your cheek against his thigh.

He's still combing his fingers through your hair. And as he's gazing down at you, all the upset of the day fades. You're okay. You're here in his lap, teasing him, kissing him. He caught you. He caught you.

here is my tag list!!

𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧, 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬! 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲, 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐛!

if you liked this, consider checking out my Jake x You story!

#jake hangman x y/n #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin smut #jake seresin top gun #jake seresin x you #hangman?? more like hang that man's penis...in my mouth #hangman top gun #top gun hangman #hangman seresin x reader #hangman angst #hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman fluff #hangman smut #jake seresin fluff #jake hangman fic #jake hangman imagine #hangman imagine #marry hangman :) #m answers #loved this

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x Third-oldest-Archeron-sibling!Reader: Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 3

A/N: I think reader is beginning to realise something was up with Azzie’s behaviour…

Apologies if you’re not a gold-jewellery person (I’m not either, don’t worry)

Warnings: general angst because you sickos love it for some reason (it’s affectionate, I swear), Pity Party by Melanie Martinez vibes, Elain, 5.6K words

-Part 2- -Part 4-

You keep your eyes shut, hoping to waste another few hours, sleeping.

You want this day to be over as quickly as possible. It could never go fast enough.

Twenty-two.

Once, it was a third of your life—a quarter, if lucky. Now it’s a mere spec. A pebble beside a milestone. What is twenty-two in the face of immortality?

Awareness zips across your skin, feeling the soft drag of cotton against your toes; the warm wrap of your nightdress against the backs of your thighs. Remember how fingertips felt scraping up the skin, and tuck beneath the duvet, curling into a tight ball. Seconds tick by, slow and painful, each dragging its feet through a swamp of mud, tip-tapping and traipsing their dirty boots through your mind. You won’t get back to sleep.

But you don’t move, either.

Weighted like a stone in bed, bones made of lead, pressing you into the mattress. Even your sheets feel like soft shackles, binding your body like fine rope. A silky cocoon of your own making.

The sun rays slide down the wall, slithering across the rug, finally extinguishing as midday dawns in the city. Still, you don’t move.

Sweat beads beneath your arms, trickling down to your elbows, gathering behind your knees, saturating the sheets, making them sticky. It’s not enough to make you shift. You remain lying in the puddle of discomfort.

You push deeper beneath the duvet, temperature rising as the cotton clings to your body, sticking to you when you move to roll over. Frustration bubbles, and fizzes, then tears drip down your cheeks. They roll back into your hair, falling into your ears, and you sob harder.

The imagined smell of clean pillows, and crisp sheets revolves in your mind, and still you stay. Living through fantasy, counting the seconds.

Afternoon hits, and you’re still in bed.

Rolled onto your stomach, salty water sliding down your under arms, you turn the page. The parchment is dry, leeching moisture from your fingertips, making them feel pruny. The tears start rolling again.

Evening begins, and you’re stomach sobs with you, gnawing on your bones, as though eating itself with hunger. Sweat has dried, leaving your skin clammy and suffocated. Finally the thoughts start rolling in. The humiliation of rejection further dampening your cheeks. Merely picturing hazel eyes… You shut the book, and struggle out of bed.

The sheets are indeed tangled, wrapping and binding your limbs to the point you simply drop to the floor, hitting the wood painfully, skull clunking as your elbow whacks the bed frame. You lie still for more minutes. Wallowing. Eventually drag yourself out of the mess.

First, open the curtains wider, taking in the orange and pinks of the sky, the full, billowing clouds fluffing the cobalt… Blue siphons glitter behind your eyes, water spilling as your lip wobbles. They blaze with vibrant fury, simmering with unfathomable darkness, and the curtains snap shut.

You remove your night dress, throwing it into the wicker basket, dragging yourself to the washroom as your head pulses and aches from lying down too long. Heat ravishes your skin, a fresh wave of sweat coating your body. Water washes over your back, pouring down your front, bathing you until clean. Not an ounce of grime left marring your body.

You try the windows again, the heavens filled with orange and blue, purply-greys rising with the oncoming night. How have you nearly slept away the day? And yet it’s still not over.

Voices echo from somewhere below you—the kitchen. You cover your face with your hands, exhaling heavily. They’re all there. All waiting just beneath you. Knees nearly buckle.

Heart spikes in your chest at the thought of…

Birthdays used to be wonderful, full of gifts and vibrant colours, smelling of fresh flowers and tasting syrupy and sweet. Now they’re wretched and dull, a pressure around your throat as another year ticks by and nothing’s changed. You’ve done nothing. Sat around, taking up space, draining money, expending resources. And nothing to say for it. Just a stack of books by your bed, selling second after second, minute after minute, draining the days away. Draining the years away.

Muscle trembles, bones crumbles as you land on the floor, curled into a ball before the mirror, unable to look at the waste you’ve become. Everything has a function, everything has some sort of purpose, some duty to fulfil, executing their actions with mechanical precision. Moving because they have to. It’s what they’re formed to do. Yet bring choice into the equation, and everything stops. It becomes unreliable, and uncertain. Unpredictable.

So much choice it’s overwhelming. So many pathways, so many decisions. So many conclusions. Everything would be so much simpler if will was subtracted from the sum. Leaving you with narrow walls to keep you on course, the gust of wind propelling you forward. Without those things, your actions are your own, and you’ve plummeted from the path.

Mind buzzes and whirrs, firing off thoughts and clipped phrases, one blending into another. Chaos and mess fusing in a liquid covalent bond, linking their talons through sinew and cartilage. Hooking into your brain. Ripping into the tissue. Licking their fingers clean.

Three knocks tap to your skull, tripping through cartilage, tumbling to stone.

“Hello?” You call, forcing your voice to be even. Balancing out waves, crests and troughs synchronising.

“Are you going to be up soon? I haven’t seen you all day!” Feyre.

You scowl, hunching over yourself, nails raking through your hair, pushing the dried tails from your face. “I’ve been up for a while,” you reply, shortly, “reading.”

“Well, we’re having dinner together tonight, and it’s nearly ready, so come down soon!” She calls back, and you can imagine the way her ear is inevitably pressed flat against the door. Busybody, like the rest of them.

When you don’t reply, she steps back, walking away down the hallway, returning to the kitchen where the laughter blares and bubbles.

You slump over, spilling across the floor as you lie, limp. Strength falling from your muscles, as though they’re delocalising from your flesh and bone. You imagine sinking your hands onto your thighs, how your meat would come apart like perfectly prepared pulled pork. How your gluons would simply release; allow you to dissolve onto someone’s plate, drowned in gravy and dusted with rosemary.

Thoughts ebb and flow, trickling through your conscious like thickened cake batter over the edge of a mixing bowl, dripping from the table to splatter on the floor. Only to be wiped away seconds later, cleanly obliterated. Tiny explosions blow behind your eyelids, prickling until salt stings and spills.

The sun sinks, darkness settling like a veil over the city, horizon dimming to deeper, inky greys. Shoulders ache, bones grinding against one another, catching muscle and flesh between them. Still you lie, unmoving. Light, shallow breaths evenly dripping from your lips.

Another set of knocks in the same cadence. “Food’s ready!” She calls. The words thud dully in your ears, landing at the dried up base of the well. Prevented from settling deeper. “Will you be down soon?” She asks hopefully, voice blaring through your carefully cultivated silence. “Be down soon,” you call back, letters automatic and mechanical. Precise and unthinking. Words lilt and inflect, while your features remain stiff, eyes unseeing as they stare out.

She traipses away again.

Your mind falls back to sleep.

Tumbling through portals, falling into vortexes, tripping down tunnels. Flying through secret hatches in time, spilling across horizons and shooting up, up, up into the atmosphere.

Thoughts waver and crumble, disintegrating into galaxy coloured sprays of starlight, swirling and exploding like the movement of the Starry Night. Feyre had showed you that one, once.

When was the last time you’d had time to spend with any of them, individually? Now with Nyx around, her attention is spread thin. Navigating wife, sister, and mother. High Lady, too.

Mother, Wife, High Lady. Then Sister.

Maybe you were being harsh on her. After all, what do you know about having so many roles to play? Having achieved all those titles, fulfilled each one and continuing to do so while avoiding jeopardising another. Would you be able to handle what she does? A year younger than you. Already with a husband and a child. A whole Court at her fingertips.

Are you done with the nosey speculation into other people’s relationships, or is that how you’ve found yourself filling your time?

You blink, his voice ringing in your mind.

Is that how you’ve come to preoccupy yourself? Complaining about her success? What happened to being happy for her achievements? To being proud of your sister? At what point had it become a competition?

When had you started comparing yourself to them?

A stone sinks in your gut, plummeting through your stomach, dropping to your toes. Do you really fill your time by examining them? Analysing their relationships, dissecting their dynamics?

Go on, he’d said. Go on and tell me why I’m undeserving of her.

It had really come out so wrong. You hadn’t even planned on confessing to him. Had planned to keep it all to yourself. To wallow and drown, quietly, in your own secret corner.

You think you’re deserving of me?

He replays on an invisible symphonia, spinning through your world, making you dizzy as the sound whirls.

You think you’re deserving of me?

I think it’s cruel to continue asking after her when I so obviously answer every question you have just so you might pay me a little more attention.

Well done. Just open up your chest for him. Hand perfectly poised to pull your life’s muscle from your ribs. Instead he’d left it intact, an open wound to fester and turn gangrenous over time. To scar, deeply. To burn and burrow its way into your marrow. To turn bone deep, so you can begin to understand what you’d struck at.

You’d be better off turning your damn affections somewhere they’d actually be appreciated.

If you were even half the female she is, I’d be tempted to show a little interest.

How quickly the conversation had turned sour. How quickly it had flown off the pathway. How quickly blades had been drawn, poison tipped arrows fired.

At least she has someone interested in getting her into bed.

I doubt you can say the same.

A triptych of knocks lands on your door, making you flinch.

“Are you still coming down?” Feyre calls, “the food’s going to start getting cold!”

It takes a moment for your limbs to unfreeze, unstick themselves from your mind’s trap. “I’m—…” You’re not going down there. Not into that room, filled with so many people. She calls your name, a little confusion shining through, dragging you from your haze.

“I’m getting tired, Fey,” you manage back, not quite disguising the bone-deep fatigue that’s riddling your body. “I think I’m just going to go to bed,” you call.

“Oh…” she sounds surprised. A little crestfallen. “Are you sure? I mean, I haven’t seen you in a while, and we’re all down there, so…it would be nice. To spend time with you.”

You’re quiet, unable to formulate an appropriate response. You can hear her hesitating, too.

Then. “Can I come in?” She asks softly.

You freeze up, taking in your state. Clean, but messy. A few too many things out of place to be okay. Before you can skilfully deny her, she continues on. “I—… There are some things I want to ask you about.”

Her voice is soft, and quiet. Navigating High Lady and sister. Maybe you don’t give her enough credit. Then again, she should obviously be playing your sister right now.

“Let me put some more clothes on,” you respond with, swallowing as you get to your feet, picking up a few books here and there; grabbing your sheets to return them to the bed. Quickly, you shuck on a dress, tying your hair back into a neat-ish knot. “Okay,” you call, “I’m dressed.”

The door swings open, and her eyes scan the room, darting about before settling on you. She’s dressed nicely—she’s always dressed nicely. Whether it’s a jumper and slippers, or some kind of gown, she always looks lovely. Disgustingly put together. “What is it?” You ask, feigning sleepiness.

She shrugs casually, closing the door behind her. “I wanted to see how you were doing,” she explains, walking over to your bed. “Can I sit down?” You nod in response, then hesitate. “Maybe take the chair. It was boiling last night.” Her lips lift, a faint smile on her mouth, blue-grey eyes sparkling, “it was, wasn’t it? Rhys is going to show me how to put a temperature-maintaining ward around our bedroom. Nyx severely dislikes the heat.” Her voice lilts with laughter, and it’s easy to forget what she’s gone through. So easy to disregard every bloodied fragment when you see that smile.

“So?” She asks, conversationally. “How have you been?” You wince and her brow dips almost imperceptibly, “I really want to go to bed.”

“Oh.” She blinks. Nods slowly. “Okay.” She seems slightly upset at your not-so-subtle dismissal. At least it was gentle.

Feyre stands, runs her eyes over the stacks of books beside your bed, “have you read all these?” A heavy sigh blows from your chest, posture dissipating as your spine slouches, “Feyre…”

“Right. Yes. If you’re sure,” she says, watching you carefully. Intently. Eyes sharp. “I’m very sure,” you reply, managing a weak smile, hoping fatigue will cover for you.

She nods then, heading for the door. She stops, and you nearly groan.

“It wouldn’t…I mean, would it help if there were less of us?” She asks slowly. This time, you do groan. “Oh my gods, Feyre. I am tired. Please let me sleep.”

“So you’re not coming down at all? Even just s few minutes? Be with everyone for a bit?” She pushes, and irritation bubbles in your chest. You want to be done with this conversation. You don’t deign her with an answer. You’ve said what you want to, you’re not going to repeat yourself.

“If Azriel wasn’t there…” she says softly, taking a hesitant step toward you. You stiffen, blood freezing. “What do you mean.”

Feyre blows out a breath, brushing down her top, smoothing the nonexistent creases. “I’m not blind,” she murmurs, eyes latching onto you. “You’ve been off these past few days, and Elain—”

“What did Elain say?” You ask, skin leeching of warmth. Feyre pauses, watching you quietly. “Feyre,” you say, a little surprised at her hesitance. “If Elain said something, it’s fair for me to know.”

She sighs again, “I need you to be calm. I don’t want to argue with you. Not today. Not any other day, but particularly not today.”

“Sure. That’s why you brought this up when I’m obviously tired and irritable,” you shoot back.

She just observes you steadily, unfaltering. It makes you want to shift, and fidget. “Tell me what she said. I’ll be calm,” you say, finally, quieter than before. Still, she’s silent. Watching, weighing, judging. Busybody.

Finally, she opens her mouth, and her words nearly knock you off your feet. “She saw you in the library. Heard what you said to him.”

The floor opens up beneath you, and you spiral down. She heard your conversation with Azriel.

The nosey bitch. She had no right to pry like that. And then to bring it to your sister. The youngest of all of you.

How much more humiliation do you have to take?

“She what?” You whisper, unable to speak through your anger and hurt. Feyre gives you that look again, calming, steady, scolding. “You said you’d be calm,” she reminds, quietly. “Please keep your voice down.”

“That was none of her business!” You explode, voice raising as your hands scrunch into fists, sorrow giving way to rage. “And none of yours either, High Lady.” You spit out the title, so betrayed, and confused, you begin to switch off. It’s none of their business. They’re your emotions. Yours. Not things to be traded, and gossiped about. To be tossed around over some family dinner.

“I’m worried about you,” she says, brows curving with concern. “We all struggled with the cauldron. We struggled through the war, and everything that came after. But you’ve never shown any signs to warrant anxiousness.” Pain glimmers in her eyes, watching you steadily from across the room. Your room.

“Don’t use that as an excuse,” you bite back. “Don’t use it as an excuse to stick your nose into my life like that. It is my life.” Your voice wobbles, but remains strong, blaring through the space. “What happened between me and him is none of your concern. My relationship with Elain is none of your concern. Stop trying to find an issue with me. Something for you to fix, and put back together, so I can become part of your pretty, perfect family, too.” You nearly shout the end, vision blurring around the edges.

She blanches a little, “you need to quiet down. I will not be shouted at. You’re a grown woman, you can talk to me like one.”

“Treat me like one!” You nearly scream back, tears spilling. Her brows knot together, looking confused and disappointed. “I act, just like you,” you cry. “I’ve dealt with my own issues. I’ve kept them to myself. I’ve made. sure. not to be a burden. To you, or to anyone.” The words spill out, one after another. Brutal, and jagged in the light.

“I’ve been as cooperative as I can, I give answers if I have them, and I look for them if I don’t,” you sob, thinking of all the times he’d asked a question about Elain, so you’d repeated them back to her, stealing that information back for him. “I’ve never gone mute like Elain, I never sparked up like Nesta, I never spiralled into a depression like you. I kept myself intact. All by myself. And yet I’m the one everyone treats like a girl?” You shake as you cover your face with trembling hands, a small crack finally appearing in the damn you’ve been consistently reinforcing.

You push away your tears, trying to shut off the waterworks, finally meeting her glazed eyes. They clear when they realise you’re watching her.

“I can manage what happens between Azriel and me. It’s my business,” you repeat, the odd tear spilling as your lip wobbles. “I know I’m nothing compared to Elain. I know Mor would outshine me if I were next to her,” you cry, breaths heaving in and out in frenzied, uneven pants. Feyre’s eyes glimmer with pain, and she steps closer, arms widening a little. A silent offer. You ignore it.

“I know he doesn’t—” A sob cuts you off, lungs spasming as more walls break down, dissolving with the torrent you’ve kept at bay. Your shoulders hunch, eyes squeezing shut as you bite your lip.

“Nobody ever does,” you cry, softly, wrapping around yourself, back curving as you fold in on yourself. “He doesn’t even—… He’s never asked anything about me, but he knew…” I’m never the first choice.

Maybe the competition had been going on for longer than you’d realised.

Your voice grows softer, and her shoulders loose their tension, silence stretching through the room. Utter, devastating silence.

Not even a single, muffled laugh.

Your heart drops, stomach rising up into your throat.

You take a step forward, eyes wide.

Then vanish.

You reappear exactly one floor below, the silence not fitting in with a group of eight preternaturally still bodies. Seven pairs of eyes turn to you, filled with guilt. Almost instinctually, you seek out the darkest corner of the room, hazel piercing into you. Sharp and accusing.

You stumble under its intensity, flicking between the remaining pairs of eyes that seem to be pulling away from you. Lips part is surprise, flitting from violet, to grey-blue, to cocoa, returning to hazel.

“Good evening entertainment, huh?” You whisper, lips trembling. You don’t even know who to look at.

The High Lord opens his mouth, but Nyx begins screaming, shrill and cutting in the quiet.

Your jaw snaps shut, comprehending what just happened.

A heavy breath of air puffs from your lips, before you winnow yourself back upstairs.

Feyre’s already given you your privacy by the time you return.

————

A clock chimes somewhere in the house. Three in the morning.

The forced laughter and quiet shuffling of people had vanished around one. Two hours ago. Your stomach growls in the darkness.

How long has it been since you last ate?

You shake your head, not caring. You’re hungry, so you’ll get food.

On quiet feet, you pad into the hallway, peering both ways before tiptoeing down the corridor, listening for the sound of movement. Nothing. Silently, you descend the stairs, walking along another corridor that leads you to the kitchen. Stop in the doorway.

A cake lies on the table in the living room—adjoined to the kitchen. A polite pile of presents is stacked neatly beside it, a dull ache pressing down on your chest. Even from across the room, you can make out the pretty details. The pure white fondant, the foundations to the wobbly yellow and orange marigolds made from icing sugar, royal blue frosting squiggling the boarder, artfully dripping down the edges, like tears spilling over.

Stepping closer, the flaws become apparent, clearly decorated by people unaccustomed to creating cake toppings. The uneven petals, a dash of light blue marring the white fondant, the obvious blending point between yellow and orange. You wonder how long it took the three of them.

Sighing, you take a seat around the table, a single candle magically appearing and lighting atop it. You murmur thanks to the house, take a deep breath, and sharply puff the air out. It extinguishes instantly. Smoke drifts up in shadowy strings, the red ember winking out, and you pull the candle from the cake. A small knife appears at your side, and you cut a small chunk from its centre, getting the better part of a marigold at its tip.

It’s good—not too sweet, not too dry. Has weight to it, pleasantly spongy. The flavour lovely and—

Your vision blurs as you taste the vanilla, tiny pockets of jam infused throughout the cake. It’s the same as the recipe Elain practiced in cupcake form for a month. Practiced and persisted endlessly. Sampled until you both deemed it perfect.

No, you don’t forgive her for eavesdropping, for tattling to your sister, for being the reason the whole family now knows about your messy rejection. How unappealing you are. But she’d made this perfect for you, had practiced this recipe to death…and it counts for something.

You finish off the slice, ignoring the slight salty flavour that occasionally dripped over your lips, choosing to focus on the taste of the bespoke cake, instead.

Sitting a while in silence, thinking about everything that’s happened, you put it aside. Shift awkwardly toward the neat stack. Almost immediately drawn to the small royal blue gift box. It fits in your palm and you don’t need to read the note to know who it’s from. A tule bow is tidily pressed on the lid, shifting through vivid purples, reds, and pinks. Azriel’s gift.

It is stupid to be excited for his present?

You bite your lip, and shakily remove the top, peering down at the deep blue, satin cushion. A fearful smile lifts the edges of your mouth—disbelieving.

Inside the petite box, nestled within the plush pillow, are a pair of pearl earrings. They’re fashioned into small tear-drop like stones, golden hooks appearing at their crest. You pull them carefully from the cushion, holding them up in the moonlight, staring in wonder. They’re simple, yet elegant. An understated, subtle kind of beauty. The kind you only notice when you look closely.

You admire them for minutes, before raising them to your ears, neatly sliding them into the tiny holes. A comfortable weight, fun to play with, and tug on. You’re already in a better mood than when you came down here, a quiet smile on your lips as you remember their pretty shine.

Moving onto the next one, you begin filing through the gifts: A romance book from Nesta; from anyone else, it would have been obnoxious and self-centred, but you know how much she adores those books, and wants you to experience their happiness.

From Feyre, a miniature painting: Starfall rendered in blues, yellows, and oranges, in place of the irradiated greens and iridescent golds.

A silver embossed bookmark from Rhysand (spelled so you’ll never loose or misplace it, he’d written), making you smile.

From Cassian, necklace, a circular glass pendant hanging on the bronze chain. Peering into the glass, you can make out a small map of the world, containing the courts, the continent, and Hybern. Stretching down to the Mortal Lands too—acknowledging your past.

A small pot of crimson nail polish from Mor, coupled with a pink lipstick, making you laugh quietly. Attached is note saying she owes you a shopping trip—promising not to hijack it for clothes; to let you wonder about the various book stores.

And a 10,000 piece jigsaw from Amren—you can hear the challenge radiating from her as you pull the ribbon away.

All wonderful; all thoughtful. The seven pairs of guilty eyes that had been listening out of concern.

You rest your face in your hands, unable to resolve their opposites. The eavesdropping, but the clear attention they’ve all paid. Even if you’re in Rhys’ Inner Circle, you’d always thought you were somewhere measuring the circumference. Apparently they disagreed. You’re just as at its centre as they are.

Hot, wet droplets splash onto the wooden table, and you sniff quietly, taking long minutes to expel the sadness from behind your eyes. Finally, once they’ve dried, you reach toward Elain’s present. You’re not sure you want to see what’s inside, with how complicated your relationship has become. Still, you pull the lilac bow loose, raising the lid from the box. You stand up to look what’s contained within.

Your eyes bulge from their sockets, jaw dropping open as you see what’s inside. Slowly, carefully, you raise the mechanism from the padded inside of the box, setting it reverently on the table. Only then do you allow your hands to shake.

Sat politely before you, is an orrery.

Fingers tremble as you touch one of the planets, pushing it gently. When it moves, the cogs at its base align with one another, clicking together as each of the globes move harmoniously, spinning at their assigned paces. You wonder how accurate the spin is, what machinery they’ve used to delve so far into the universe. How wonderful it must be to live and explore.

Tears splash onto the table as you stare at the contraption. So incredible, rendered with such loving care you could cry. You are crying.

You peer closely, picking out the planet you’re on, how the world is carved into it: the land, the equator, no split lying between the previous human and faerie realms—the wall now gone. You thumb at the other spheres, staring with wide eyes as you trace small indentations made in their surface, peering and spinning the moons that rotate each. It’s utterly breathtaking; you have to blink away more wetness.

Seconds tick by, minutes draining in the blink of an eye. A clock chimes four in the morning and you’re still studying the mesmerising mechanism. How many centuries of research have created the stunning contraption? How many people dedicated their lives to discover the knowledge that is now rendered so extraordinarily before you? The detail is mind blowing, the loving rendition of the solar system, sitting on the table in a kitchen. Absolutely incredible.

You scan the array of gifts—the thoughtfulness and care that has gone into each and every one. The attention, the affection. All pieces of yourself, like looking at tiny fragments of your soul.

Muscles stiffen, eyes flicking to the empty, deep blue box. The royal blue cushion that you’d smiled so widely at. How giddy you’d been. It shrivels and warps besides the other gifts, an insult to compare them. While their gifts are clearly bespoke; unique; picked out with you in mind, the pearls…

Sorrow flushes your cheeks as you thumb free the earrings, staring at the demure jewellery. Beautiful, feminine, expensive…

Painfully generic.

A final smack in the face.

“You’re awake.”

Eyes flick up to meet cocoa. Lashes damp. Pearls tucked back in their box.

Elain walks forward on silent feet, gliding across the floor until she’s the other side of the table. Her eyes flick down to the cake, and a faint smile appears on her lips, “you had a slice.” She smoothes down her skirts, elegantly descending into a seat, “happy birthday.”

Pressure heats behind your eyelids, vision blurring, then spilling over. You bury your face in your hands as you sob, teeth biting into your lip as you try to quiet them, attempting to stop the cries that are leaking. You sniff, rubbing your skin until it feels raw. Hot and irritated from brushing tears away. Elain sits quietly, waiting for you to ready.

Once the sobs have dulled enough, you dry your eyes once more, looking at her. “Why did you tell Feyre?” You manage, throat wet, voice a little nasally from crying. Nose blocked. “Why did you listen?”

“She was worried. She asked about you, and I mentioned you’d seemed startled finding me and him in the library,” she answers calmly.

“It was none of your business,” you moan quietly, brushing away more tears. “You had no right to eavesdrop on us like that.”

Elain’s brow furrows, “I didn’t eavesdrop. All I heard were the things you said to him while I was in the room.”

You blink once. Twice.

She sighs. “I left as soon as I was out. You were in need of privacy.”

“But Feyre said you saw…what happened in the library,” you stumble, unable to bring yourself to say his name. “I did see you in the library. When you came in. And then I left.”

You blink again.

She hadn’t heard anything you and Azriel had said to one another. That was why he’d looked so accusatory. You’d gone and opened your mouth while everyone was listening. And your reaction…it didn’t make him look good.

Tears spill again as you bury your head in your hands. Shoulders shake and heave with sobs, hot liquid running between your fingers as they splash into the pool on the wooden table. He’s probably furious with you for being so oblivious. He would have noticed immediately. You cry harder.

A hand lands gently at your back, rubbing in soothing patterns. Staying beside you until you calm down. “I’m sorry…” you cry weakly, voice rasping in the silence. “I’m so sorry, ‘Lain. I thought… I’m so sorry…” Tears drip-drop steadily, but you regain control of your voice. “It’s okay,” she murmurs, and you feel her slide into the chair beside you. How long has it been since one of you cried in front of the other, unprompted? You can’t remember.

Maybe that’s what has you standing from your seat, pulling Elain with you as you cry into her. She’s stiff for a moment, then her arms slide over your shoulders, your own wrapping around her back, allowing the tears to pour. The world naturally leaning toward chaos.

After what feel like forever, you step away, drying your eyes once more.

“How are you feeling?” She asks gently, hand on your shoulder, thumb rubbing soothingly. “Better,” you sniff, managing to keep your eyes dry. They’re going to puff up badly, though. You snivel again, pushing the loose hairs from your face, wet with tears. “Thank you for the orrery,” you manage, softly. “Really. It’s so… I can’t even begin to explain how incredible it is. How great a gift it is. Thank you.” You hope you can at least begin to have her understand how much you love it through the sincerity in your voice. So she can hear it, even if you can’t explain it.

She smiles faintly. “I’m happy you’re happy.” It’s so Elain you nearly start crying again. “Nuan made it—she’s very skilled in her work.”

Nuan, who’d created Lucien’s eye. She must have…

Her eyes flick away for a moment, as if reading the question in your gaze, but return. “He and I… Things aren’t as tense as they once were. We’re… We’re doing better.” You stare at her, lips parted.

So she’s no longer after Azriel.

A wave of horror crashes over you as you comprehend the thought. Repeat it in your brain. Subconsciously, she’d been your saboteur. You’d seen her as competition, convinced you had to be better to keep his attention. How infatuated you’d become.

Two years you’d wanted him. Two years of late night thoughts, secret wishes, and strict obedience to him. Two years of living for someone else.

Such an idiot.

You’d been so happy to give as much as you could. To be as compliant and accommodating as possible. And he had fully taken advantage of that.

How much more is there for you to realise about him?

How much further does this have to go?

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

CBMTHY Taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke

#CBMTHY #CBMTHY Part 3 #Azriel #azriel shadowsinger #Azriel angst #angst #acotar #multi-part fic #Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You

[bloatedandalone04]

Love Language

➪the one where you’re all clay needs to keep himself calm before surgery (and after).

Warnings: sam does not exist here (sorry not sorry f that b), mentions of surgery, surgery topics, hospital themes, anxiety, clay's surgery is successful and his mother is still alive, heart transplants (you saw the movie, you know how it goes), heavy topics, 'what is the healing process of a heart transplant' was definitely googled more than once while writing this.

Word Count: 2.3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

The sun peered into the room through the thin, white curtains - the same ones Clay has begged you to let him replace more than once now. It heated the room to the perfect temperature, not too cold while also not making you break out into a sweat. 

Lying fast asleep beside you was possibly the most beautiful man you had ever seen. His face was pressed to the pillow, his arms lifted and hidden under said pillow as he often fell asleep on his stomach, the front of his body pressed to the mattress. 

You reach over and gently trace your index finger over the various freckles that scattered his back before laying your palm flat against his skin, the faint beat of his heart bringing you a sense of comfort you never knew you needed. 

The glow of the sun made his skin look golden, his face relaxed and his hair messy from moving in his sleep. 

In other words, he was just perfect. 

You lift your body, your elbow digging into the bed as you hold yourself up. Unable to stop your wandering lips, you lean over and press a kiss to his bicep, and another to his shoulder blade.

Though your touch was feather light, it still woke him up as though his body couldn’t help but react whenever you showed him any type of affection. His eyes opened in a squint due to the light that invaded the room, the corner of his lips turning upwards in a boyish grin. “Hi,”

“Hi,” you murmur back, trailing your hand further up his back before tangling it in his light hair. 

He gives you a look that has your heart swelling before he lifts his head just to bury his face back in the pillow. You grin at his shyness, a personality trait you would’ve never imagined he had. With billions behind his name, a successful mother, a future set in stone, and a whole city that belonged to him; you expected him to be arrogant, spoiled, ruthless, even.  

But no, he was none of those things. 

He was kind, had the persona of an angel, something that prompted you to give him the nickname, your angel. He had a smile that could make any okay day an amazing one, the charm to sweep anyone off their feet, and a heart as big and sweet as anything in the entire world. Even though his heart was fragile and could betray him at any given moment, he still didn’t let that change his view on the world, the beautiful thing it was. 

To put it simply; Clay Beresford was the embodiment of everything good in the world, a light so bright that he had no idea just how much he lit up the darkest corners of damn near everyone he’s ever met, a man so perfect you found yourself believing you were stuck in a dream every time you woke up next to him. 

Massaging your fingers into his scalp, you fill with a sense of happiness at the content sigh that escapes him, silent in sound but evident in the way his shoulders raised and dropped slowly. 

You move closer to him, brushing your nose against his arm. “Why are you hiding from me?” You ask quietly, your hand flattening out his messy hair. 

He lifted his head just enough for him to be able to murmur, “I’m not hiding from you, baby,” the corners of his lips turned upwards as he continued, “Just from your awful excuse of a curtain.”

You gasp, taking your hand away from his head to give his shoulder a gentle push. “Hate them all you want,” you shrug, meeting his eyes when he turned his head to look at you. “I’m still not letting you buy me new ones.”

Clay laughed quietly, shifting so he was now on his back. His right hand came up to grab your left one, his eyes fixated on the large diamond that found home on your finger. 

With your free hand, you reach over and gently press it against his shoulder, your fingers firmly poking against the few small knots you felt. “What are you thinking about?” You nearly whisper, afraid as though you would ruin the peaceful atmosphere if you were to talk at your usual pitch. 

His blue eyes met yours once again. “You,” he simply answered and you felt a heat rush to your face. Keeping your hand locked in his, you lean down and press your lips to his mouth, an innocent kiss that grew heated when his left hand grabbed your hip and pulled your body on top of his. 

Your upper body was covered by his white dress shirt he wore to the dinner party last night, the shirt being the first thing you grabbed once you woke up this morning, while your lower half was covered by a thin black lace.

Clay has told you many times now that he loves the way you look in his clothes and it brings out a possessive side he never knew he had. You were just so beautiful, and you looked past his family drama and his heart problem and chose him. 

There weren’t words that are strong enough to describe his love for you or how much he adored you. You were one of the few things in his life that felt normal and right, and it was no surprise that he couldn’t hold back on asking you to be his forever just eight months into the relationship. 

You started out as his mom’s assistant. Lilith was a sweetheart right at the start, showing you around her massive house with the patience of a new teacher, smiling at you and encouraging any questions you might have had. 

You remembered exiting the kitchen and entering the front hall just as Clay returned home, his eyes tired and his form slouched. It was almost comical how quickly he straightened up and how wide his eyes opened. Lilith’s dismissal of his sudden appearance was one you’ll never forget. “Oh, that’s Clay, my son. Don’t worry, you won’t see much of him,”

How wrong she was.

From that day on, Clay did any and everything he could to see you, even for just a split second. He’d prolong quick conversations, give you a long answer instead of a short one to any question you had, and was always there to greet you when you arrived in the mornings. 

You were kidding yourself when you made a promise that you wouldn’t fall for him. You fell for Clay hard and fast, and it seemed as though he fell for you just as bad. When you became official, you quit being Lilith’s assistant as you felt weird about it and didn’t want your source of income to be from his mom.

No matter how much money the Beresford name had, you still felt cheap whenever Clay or his mother offered to pay for something. You knew it wouldn’t faze them, and you appreciate their kindness, but you refused each and every time. 

“You do realize that you’re entitled to my money once we’re married, right?” He’d ask you every time you refused to let him pay for you.

You always respond with, “Yeah, well, we’ll figure that out when we get there,”

His hands slide up your back when you break away from his mouth and begin placing kisses along his jaw. You move onto his neck and shoulders before moving further down and stopping right above where his heart was beating in his chest. 

A small bit of sadness filled you as your mouth hovered over that place, your hands pressing into the sheets on either side of his body. Clay noticed this, but before he could ask you what was wrong, you leaned down and placed a kiss to the skin of his chest, just over where his heart is. 

He held back a shiver as you placed another kiss and then another, your eyes closing when you felt his hands reach up to caress the sides of your face. Butterflies are set loose all over his body as you kiss him with a feather light touch, acting as if you’d break him if you were to be even the smallest bit rougher with him. 

“Hey,” he quietly said, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that fell from your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Shaking your head, you rest it against his chest, the faint beating against your cheek making you smile slightly. “I just love you,” it was hardly audible, but he heard you as clear as day. “So much.”

“Baby,” he says quietly, brushing your hair away from your face as he tries to get you to meet his eye. “Now it’s your turn to tell me what you’re thinking about.”

You wipe away your tears and clear your throat. “It’s nothing,” you answer, looking up at him and caving at the look he gives you. A shaky sigh leaves your lips as you crawl over his body and move to lay on your side next to him. Your fingers trace over the skin you had just kissed while his rubbed soothing circles onto your shoulder. “I was just thinking about how much I will love your new heart, maybe even more than I love your current one.”

Clay grinned down at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “There’s no doubt in my mind that my new heart will love you just as much as the old one does now,” he says quietly before adding, “Thank you for never giving up on me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

-

Clay spent a week in the hospital, his pager going off a few hours after you and him got out of bed after your heart to heart talk. 

His surgery was a success, his body taking the new organ with no problems at all and rendering him a new man.

You were by his side throughout the whole process, your own heart beating rapidly during the five hours he was under. The sense of relief you felt when his doctor came to the waiting room to inform you and Lilith that it was a success was indescribable. 

He woke up an hour or so after the surgery, and a couple more later you were finally allowed to briefly visit him. You instantly started crying, which caused him to cry as well, still a bit drowsy and high off the medication. 

Despite the doctor’s request of not getting too close to him, you couldn’t help but press multiple kisses to his face, working carefully around the ventilator, before settling on holding his hand as gently as you could. He looked so tired and weak and worn out, making your heart break the smallest bit as you thought about the long road to recovery he had ahead of him. 

Now, four weeks into his recovery process, he was doing well. He would have multiple pain sessions everyday where his chest would ache beyond anything he could ever describe. During those moments he would tightly hold your hand or wrap his arms around your middle while pressing his body to yours until the pain subsided and the quiet groans faded. 

You grew closer than ever. You had taken an LOA from your job at the small café downtown to take care of him, looking after his every need with no hesitation. He was in bed for the most part, only getting up to walk the short distance to the bathroom attached to the bedroom or up and down the hallway outside the room to keep him somewhat active. Even then you were no more than a few feet away from him, a nervous look on your face and a crease in your brow

Secretly, the days you spent with him in bed was your favorite way to pass the time. Like right now, your chin resting gently on his shoulder while your index finger lightly ran up and down the scar on his chest. The bandage and stitches had long since been removed and all that was left was a long line from the start of his chest down to just above his lower abdomen. 

Today was a good day as he hadn’t felt a single ounce of pain yet, his arm wrapped around you and his fingers lazily tracing shapes on your bicep. His half lidded eyes stared at the ceiling, the only sounds filling the room being your breathing and the low hum of the air conditioning. 

Breaking the silence, you keep your voice quiet as you ask, “How are you feeling today?”

Your head lifted slightly with every breath he took, his shoulder rising with every inhale. Just being able to feel him breathe made you fill with a sense of happiness, the stress of the whole thing fading away with every day that passed. “Good,” he answered, his lips turning upwards when he added, “Better than ever.”

You close your eyes at that, exhaling quietly. “Good,” your hand moves from his scar and rests on the skin above his heart, the faint but strong beat making you smile. “You’re still you.” You say quietly and lift yourself up, propping your upper half on your elbow.

Clay furrows his brows as he watches you lean down to press your lips over his heart. He was brought back to the morning of his surgery, just hours before he got the page that a transplant was available, where you did exactly what you were doing now, but on his old and weak heart. 

“My angel….New heart, new life,” you continued, kissing his skin once more before meeting his eyes. “Still the same you.”

Clay lifted his hand to stroke your cheekbone with his thumb, the rest of his fingers curling under your jaw. “I’m still me,” he confirmed, matching your small grin with one of his own. “And my heart still loves you just the same.”

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen gif #hayden christensen edit #clay beresford #clay beresford x reader #clay beresford imagines #angst #fluff #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine

[daydreaming-nerd]

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 6

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 7, Part 8

AN: Y'all I love Eris so much I hate making him a villian here. Someone comment some Eris fic ideas so I can write something good about him.

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexisim, heavier SA in this one, Smut

Word Count: 7,094

I woke up the next morning to warm, strapping arms wrapped around my bare skin. The velvet stone of Cassian’s bare chest pressed against my back. The sheets were so disheveled from last night's escapades that they barely covered our bare bodies. I felt a soft kiss being pressed to my cheek and I turned to find Cassian beaming down at me. 

After admitting our feelings for one another, we spent the rest of the night wrapped up in each other's arms just enjoying each other's warmth. I didn’t mind the comfortable silence. I had been waiting to fall asleep on the general's broad chest. I intended to savor every moment.

 I still couldn’t believe the events of last night. How his hands felt roaming my body. The fire his lips left on my skin. The feeling of him inside of me. Everything about him was addicting, and I found myself wondering when it would be appropriate to ask for him to touch me again. 

“Good morning beautiful,” Cassian smiled down at me pressing a kiss to my forehead. 

“Good morning general,” I smiled back brushing a lock of dark hair out of his face. 

The second Cassian and I finished last night he looked at me differently. Like I was his whole world. Not that he hadn’t always looked at me that way, but this time it was different. As if finally having me made him a changed person. 

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked, his eyes raking my body looking for any sign of injury. 

“A little sore,” I admitted shifting my legs between the thin sheet. “But nothing I can’t handle.” 

“It won’t be like that next time,” he assures me, pressing another kiss to my forehead like he can’t help it. 

“Oh, there will be a  next time?” I smirk and Cassian rolls his eyes. 

“I’ll have you for as long as you let me princess,” he beams. “I wasn’t lying last night. I really do love you with all that I am. I never want to be parted from you.” His eyes shone with such love as he reiterated every word. 

While I didn’t doubt his love, it was comforting to hear again in the light of day when the effects of too much wine had worn off too. 

“I love you too Cassian,” I smile pecking his lips as I feel his arms hold me closer. My stomach gurgles, telling me it’s time for sustenance. 

“I think your stomach likes me too,” Cassian laughs, pressing a hand to my abdomen.  

“Well you were touching it last night,” I mused, pressing a kiss to his lips earning a growl from him. He pressed me further into the mattress and the feeling of his bare body on mine was enough to make the blood flowing through me heat up. “Cass, wait I have to pee,” I giggle, pushing him away.  

“And you have to eat,” he laughs, rolling off me. “Go ahead, the bathrooms over there. We can get breakfast when you’re done.” 

I stand and become acutely aware of how naked I am. I search the floor for something, anything to cover me up, and find Cassian's shirt lying on the floor. I quickly throw it over my head, aware of how his burning gaze watches my every move.  

“Fuckkkk,” I hear Cassian groan behind me. 

I turn to find him face down on his pillow, wings splayed. 

“What?” I laugh making my way towards the bathroom. 

“You’re wearing my shirt and it’s turning me on. That’s what.” he groans into the pillow. 

“Well then maybe you can help me take it off when I get out,” I smile before closing the door. 

Cassian’s bathroom was surprisingly neat. For a male who was always on the go, it surprised me. My eyes looked at the enormous bath, one clearly made to accommodate his wings. On the edge lay a bar of soap, clearly what that cedar smell was coming from. His scent was strongest in here. I did my business and washed my hands in the intricate sink that was much like mine. 

I surveyed myself in the mirror. My hair was a mess and my lips looked like they had been kissed thoroughly, which they had. I thought about the night, from how it ended going back to how it started. 

Eris.

The ring. 

My blood ran cold as the once joyous look in my eyes faded. I was an engaged woman who had just had sex with another man. Cauldron save me. But Cassian wasn’t “a man” he was everything. I loved him with everything I was. I had loved him for so long now. 

As I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror I couldn’t help but think of my people. The children in the street I saw the day Rhys told me Eris wanted to marry me. The sour taste of guilt filled my mouth. I had chosen Cassian over saving my people, over saving my brother. Oh gods what have I done? 

The guilt came first, but the reasoning came second. I had to find a way I could have it all. Autumn Court armies to save my people and Cassian to save me. There had to be a way. I just wasn’t sure of how. I only knew what had to be done now. 

I exited the bathroom no doubt looking more somber than I did when I entered it. My eyes were fixated on a certain black dress at the edge of his large bed. I felt Cassian’s eyes follow me all the way to the dress as I picked it up and fished the gaudy ring out of the pocket. 

“What is that?” he asked, scooching up the bed curiously. 

“It’s my engagement ring,” I deadpanned, slipping the ring on my finger once more. My eyes turned to Cassian who had thankfully put on pants while I was in the other room, not that his muscled chest wasn’t distraction enough. 

“Are you going to give it back?” he asked and I could hear the layers of uncertainty in his tone, It nearly broke my heart in two. 

“Not yet.” I sigh, inspecting the ring on my finger. “For now we will have to go on acting like nothing is happening. I can’t tell Eris yet. I need to find a way to get more armies for our court.” 

Cassian stands and I can feel his tension radiating throughout the room, the presence of a general making itself known.

“You know that Eris won’t just give us armies without something in return,” he says, his tone trying not to waver. 

“You’re right, but that doesn’t mean I can’t change the contract,” I say turning to him. “All he seems to want is a son. Maybe if I can give him one he will let me go and we can-” 

“No, absolutely not,” Cassian’s rough voice cuts me off. “I won’t let you pay for armies with your body. Not when the troops I’ve trained are ten times better fighters than the Autumn Court armies,” he argues, coming to stand in front of me.

He takes his hands in mine, thumbs brushing across the band on my left hand. He’s practically begging me to look at him but I can’t face the embarrassment I feel. Not when he’s so honorable. 

“I don’t doubt your abilities Cass, but it’s about numbers right now. Hybern has more bodies than we do. We need more soldiers.” I say quietly. 

I know that I’m right, but pushing Cassian away feels like the most wrong thing I could ever do, and I can’t decide which feeling should prevail. 

“I would rather die than watch you carry Eris’ son,” he says shortly like the words themselves are cutting his mouth. 

My eyes finally meet his, and in that deep hazel lies a worry by the likes of which I’ve never seen. “Do you love me, Cass?” I ask, trying not to tear up. 

“You know that I do,” he assures me, moving a hair out of my face. 

“Then I need you to trust me. I need you to understand that the safety of my court matters to me. I love you Cassian and I want to be with you always. I’ve denied myself of you for so long that I know I can’t stay away from you now. But just like it’s Rhys’ job to be High Lord it’s my job to be a Princess.” I start watching his eyes soften already. “Give me time to figure this out. I’m going to find a way that I can have you and have my court safe. I just need you to give me time and I need you to believe in me.” 

Cassian’s eyes soften and his hands move from my own to my back, pulling me into a hug. I can’t help but wrap my arms around him as well, remembering a time when it was all I wanted. 

“I understand, and I trust you y/n,” he says into my hair and I feel my body relax. “I only have one condition.” 

“Anything Cass,” I say into his chest. 

“That we continue this courtship in secret,” he states. “I know it’s a lot to ask but I don’t think I can stay away from you y/n.” 

I can’t help but smile at his words. “Of course Cass. I had no intention of being without you,” I say now staring up at him. “Besides, it might be fun to have a secret relationship,” I smirk, leaning in for a kiss. 

Our kiss was halted by commotion erupting from down the hall.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Azriel’s voice boomed from the living area down the hall. 

I pulled away from the kiss and Cassian and I’s eyes met with a confused glance, both our brows furrowed. My mind races through the night's events trying to figure out what could’ve made Azriel so upset. Then it dawned on me.

“The puppy!” Cassian and I both exclaimed in unison. 

I pushed myself off Cassian making a beeline for the door. My bare feet padded down the carpeted hall toward where I left the little pup. Curse Cassian and his glorious body and his delightful cock for making me forget about the little furball I left sleeping by the fire. 

I turn the corner to find Azriel holding the pup in one arm as he inspects the whiskey glass I broke when Cassian had me on the counter. Azriel’s jaw drops and I look down to realize that I’m still in Cassian’s shirt. As if in queue the general himself rounds the corner half-naked. My eyes flitted to Azriel’s other hand which had a chewed-up boot grasped in it. 

“Oh, Az I’m so sorry,” I say, padding over to pluck the pup from his arm. She greeted me happily, licking my face as she had done a thousand times before. 

Azriel inhaled sharply and twisted his face, “I love y/n, but you reek of Cassian.” he cringed. 

“Hey!” Cassian protested from the other side of the room. 

“We are the worst secret keepers in the world,” I laugh, turning to Cass with the puppy in my arms. 

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” Azriel laughs. “But I need to know why there’s a puppy here.” 

“Cassian got drunk and stole it from Eris for me,” I laughed, placing a kiss on the puppy's head. 

“Well if you need to find her a home I know someone,” Azriel said, stepping closer to brush a large hand over the pup's face. 

“Really?” I asked Cassian who was watching his brother expectantly. 

“Yeah, I just came from Windhaven. There’s a little girl there who just lost her mother. I think she might need a new friend,” Azriel smiled at me, petting the pup again.  

I looked at Cassian, my eyes already pricking with tears at the thought of giving a little girl some hope. He just gazed at me like I put the stars in the sky, or wrote one of those damned war books he loved so much. I’m not sure what changed last night for him, but I would never protest the way he looked at me now. 

“You want to go to Windhaven little girl?” I asked the puppy, and all I got in response was another big lick.

Cassian's pov:

“I can’t believe you finally did it man!” Azriel cheered enthusiastically, clapping me on the back.  

We had just given the little girl her new friend and were now inspecting the camp. I wished I had Rhys’ ability to show people things mind to mind, Y/n would’ve loved the sight of that little girl seeing the puppy for the first time. Her eyes lit up and I could tell that she hadn’t felt true happiness for quite some time. She said she was going to name the puppy Mira and then proceeded to talk Az and I’s ear off about how they were going to everything on earth together. Y/n would’ve loved to see the puppy find a happy ending, but I didn’t want her anywhere near this camp. 

“Yeah I guess I did,” I shrugged. 

I knew that I should be more enthusiastic about finally being able to be with y/n, hell I should be in a temple on my hands and knees thanking the cauldron that she's my mate. But there was a lingering fear and sadness that I would still lose her to Eris despite it all. 

“Why don’t you sound excited about this? This is the girl you’ve been pining over for years and now she’s your girlfriend,” Az pushed my shoulder trying to snap me out of my funk. 

“She’s not just my girlfriend Az,” I admitted, kicking a stray rock out of my path. 

“Wait what,” Az said, footsteps coming to a halt on the gravel path. “She’s your-” 

“Mate,” I cut him off. “Y/n is my mate,” I say and I can’t help but smile at finally getting to say the words out loud. 

In an instant Azriel’s arms were thrown around me nearly tackling me to the ground, “Cass I’m so fucking happy for you. You both must be so happy,” he cheers and I feel the sadness creeping in again. 

“She doesn’t know yet,” I tell him, stepping away from his embrace.

“What do you mean she doesn’t know?” Azriel says furrowing his eyebrows. 

“The bond snapped for me and not her,” I say sitting down on a log. “I was going to tell her, but she is still dead set on getting us those armies from Eris and she was so passionate about saving her people I couldn’t bring myself to complicate things for her. She’s going to try to negotiate with Eris so we can be together and still have the Autumn Court’s alliance. But, she needs time to think of a plan, that’s why we can’t tell a soul about us, not even Rhys. I’m worried I’m going to lose her Az.” 

Azriel sits down on the log next to me and places a comforting hand on my shoulder, “Trust her Cass, she’s a princess she knows what she’s doing,” he assures me. 

“I just don’t understand why she won’t just call off the engagement!” I sigh, running a hand through my hair. 

“She bears a burden we will never fully understand. So does Rhys. All we can do is be here for both of them and show them support,” Az says, turning his gaze to the valley below us. 

My head hears his words and understands them. I know why this matters to y/n and I know that no matter what I say we really do need more soldiers. However, it doesn’t stop my heart from lurching just thinking about how Eris will treat her while she figures out her plan. Gods this is so wrong…

Wrong 

Wrong 

Wrong 

Wrong 

y/n's pov:

I had never worn red in my life. 

Night court black was always my color of choice and at times I would branch out to blues or darker shades of violet but never red. Yet here I found myself, clad in a burgundy dress. 

Apparently becoming Eris' fiance came with certain aesthetic changes that were out of my control. Yesterday a whole trove of dresses in varying reds and oranges and even a few gold ones were sent to the house. Some were labeled for certain events, like the upcoming engagement party that was occurring at the end of the week. Others weren’t labeled for anything, like the one I wore now. Nevertheless, I hated every single one of them. 

“Any particular reason why you’re wearing red today?” Cassian smirked from where he stood in the foyer, his chest puffing up with male pride as his siphons seemed to glow. 

I realized that he thought I had chosen red to match his siphons. My cheeks flushed at the comment as I peered down at the gossamer fabric. Red wasn’t just the Autumn Court’s color, it was Cassian’s color, and suddenly I didn’t mind the change so much. 

“Unfortunately no,” I sigh, taking his hands in mine. “Eris sent a bunch of these over, it seems I’m already expected to assimilate into the Autumn Court culture.”

Cassian smiles at me putting his hands on my waist, “Well you look lovely in my color darling,” he says nuzzling my neck and I’m immediately put at ease. 

I tilt my head up to place a loving kiss on his lips, relishing the feeling of him moving against me, his hands gripping my waist tighter. It was likely the last kiss we would have today. I pulled away to admire that beautiful face. 

“Now remember we have to act like nothing is going on between us,” I remind him. “That means if Eris touches me in a less than polite way you can’t intervene or you’ll blow the whole operation.”

“May I imagine all the ways I wish I could intervene if he does?” Cassian smirks, pressing a kiss to my forehead and holding me close. 

“Only if you tell me about them when we get home,” I laughed into his chest. 

“Done deal princess,” he chuckles, letting me go. 

I check to see that my engagement ring is on and the glamour to hide my scent from Eris is up before Cassian scoops me up and launches us into the sky.

As we fly over the mountains and valleys I can’t help but let my mind drift to my current running plan. I figured the best course of action would be to make Eris realize how poorly matched we are. He might want to be the “first” to bed me, but after that, he’s still married to me and he certainly wouldn’t want to spend the rest of his life with me. Not when I hated him. If I could scare him with the permanence of marriage maybe he would back out altogether. Then we could try and renegotiate for some of his armies.

We land firmly on Autumn Court soil and like always Eris is there to greet me within moments. I let my hand rest on Cassian's shoulder for as long as I possibly can and the second I have to reach for Eris I already find myself missing the warmth of him.

“You’re a vision in Autumn Court red my pet,” Eris muses, pressing a kiss to my lips.

“I was surprised you sent me so many,” I say, looping my arm in his and letting him lead me through the castle. 

“Well now that you’re officially mine it was time to start decorating you,” he smirked, glancing down to the ring on my left hand. 

It took everything in me not to roll my eyes at the comment. “Well they certainly are beautiful,” I say shortly trying to not let my disdain show. 

“You’ll have many more after we are married of course,” he replies. 

My stomach lurches at the thought of the wedding taking place in just a couple weeks. Dear gods, I hoped this ramshackle plan of mine worked. I wanted to bring up the idea of marriage now but my thoughts were cut off as we rounded the corner to find a large banquet hall full of large three-tier cakes. Four or five servants rushed about fixing each cake and setting up the plates and forks. As we approached the table I ran my hand along the thick tablecloth admiring the details on each white frosted cake. 

“You sure are hungry,” I joked with Eris glancing behind me to see Cassian standing in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest. 

Eris let out a chuckle, “I can assure you it’s not the cakes I’m hungry for my pet,” he says low into my ear, his proximity suddenly way too close for comfort. 

“We have a grand selection of cakes for you to choose from,” interjected one of the servants who was helping set it up. I had never been so thankful for an interruption. “The one before you is red velvet with a white chocolate buttercream.”

If I had to deal with Eris today at least I would get to do it with cake. I grabbed the pre-sliced cake before me and went to take a bite. I hated to admit it, but it was incredible. The sugary, spongy cake melted in my mouth and the sweet frosting made for the perfect companion. 

“What do you think little flame?” Eris asked, finishing a bite of his own.

“It’s incredible,” I nearly moaned, trying not to talk as I savored my second bite. 

“If you like that one you might like the chocolate raspberry with the same frosting,” she said, handing us each a plate of another cake.

Once again the dessert melted in my mouth, somehow even better than the one before it. The servant left us to bring out more flavors while we spent the next few minutes comparing cakes. Eris was being uncharacteristically normal and I started to wonder if he had regretted his behavior at the ball. If he had he didn’t acknowledge it. 

We approached the last cake on the long banquet table and I couldn’t help but notice the intricate designs piped onto each tier. Large white leaves cascaded down each level like fresh ivy. If I didn’t know it was frosting, I would’ve thought it was hand-carved marble. 

Suddenly Eris’ presence behind me was more than stifling as I felt the heat radiate from his body. He reached an arm around me to wipe a finger through the intricate design of the pastry. He stood next to me and almost as if on instinct my eyes fixated on his. His once amber eyes were a darker color than usual and I knew it wasn’t because of the lighting. 

“Open,” he instructed, holding his finger close to my lips.  

My mind told me to fight, scream, kick, and run into Cassian’s arms. I could sense the general's burning stare to my far right. But as if I was puppeteered, opened my mouth and closed it around Eris’ finger. The flavor of sour lemon coated my tongue, how fitting. He pulled the finger out with a pop, his eyes darkening at the sight of the leftover frosting on my lips.

“Good pet,” he smirked before taking my hand and wiping one of my fingers through the frosting so he could do the same to me. His mouth wrapping around my digit had me ripping my hand from his grasp in panic.

“Eris I want to talk about the wedding,” I said foolishly, acting on pure emotion. 

“What about it little flame?” He asked, resting his hands on my waist.

I took a second to ground myself, taking a deep breath to keep myself from lashing out and acting like a fool. If I wanted this to work I had to be dignified and collected. I had to make sense. 

“I just want us to really think about it,” I start as he nuzzles my neck. “I mean marriage is forever.”

“It better be,” Eris says, pressing a kiss to my temple, his hands wandering up and down my waist possessively. 

“Forever's a long time, I’m just not sure-” 

“Are you saying you don’t love me?” Eris cuts me off stepping back to look at my face. 

I scan his face, trying to decide if I should tell him the truth. This conversation was not going the way I wanted. 

“You know that I don’t,” I say calmly hoping he’ll see reason.  

Eris’ eyes darken again the silence so heavy between us the only thing that can be heard is the clattering of plates and forks that the servants are cleaning up. I look for a hint of anger within those auburn eyes but all I find is a simmering calm. One that doesn’t ease my nerves. 

“Leave us, all of you,” Eris orders the waitstaff. The sound of hurried steps echoes about the room as Eris keeps his eyes on me. “That means you too filth,” he turns his head to Cassian. 

I turn to meet his eyes as he scans me for any sign of panic. But I just nod at him to follow Eris’ orders. I don’t know what comes next, but I do know that if Eris finds out even the smallest information about us Cassian’s life will be forfeit. 

Cassian nods back before stepping outside the double oak doors and shutting them. 

The air in the room thickens and I swear the candles lighting the chandelier above us start to dim like all the life had been sucked out of the room. Eris stepped closer to me and I felt my backside hit the edge of the table as he loomed over me. 

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear, pet,” he grated. “The second I slipped that ring on your finger you became mine. My property. Mine to own. If you don’t love me now I will make you love me if only to have that much more control over you.” he said, slipping a finger under my chin to force my gaze upon him. 

“I could never-” 

His hands slipped under me, placing me on the banquet table, “I would be careful what you say little flame,” he growled, hiking my skirts up so he could run a hand over my thigh. 

“Eris you can’t fuck me we aren’t married yet,” I gritted as he started leaving open mouth kisses on my neck. 

“Who said anything about fucking you?” he sneered in my ear hand moving up the inside of my thigh to cup my sex. “I just want to play with my new toy.” 

I was petrified. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t even think as his hand slid into my panties and up my folds. A low groan rumbled from his chest. This time I didn’t stop the tears as they fell silently down my face. 

Cassian's pov:

I had been in battle before. I had seen friends and fellow soldiers die right next to me and whenever it happened I was filled with an insatiable rage that had me killing everything within a 10-foot radius. 

Nothing compared to the fury I felt now. 

He’s touching your mate.

He’s touching your mate.

He’s touching your mate.

It was like my biological makeup was forcing me to tear the doors from their limbs and rip Eris to shreds. I could feel everything. Her ice-cold fear mixed with moments of pleasure that I knew were beyond her control. 

The sound of shattered glass on the marble floor reverberated from the other side of the door…

I swear my blood started boiling beneath my skin as I felt every emotion she was going through. The only thing keeping me in check was the knowledge that if I betrayed her trust, I would never regain it. That thought made me equally sick so I chanted the only thing I could think of in my mind. 

Hold on baby

Hold on baby

Hold on baby

y/n's pov:

The bathwater was scalding hot. Just like I had instructed the house to make it.

When it was time to go Cassian had asked me if I wanted to talk about it but I just couldn’t face it. I couldn’t admit to him what had happened. I just felt so dirty, and if I was even going to speak to him I had to feel clean again. This is how I found myself flying home with him in silence before making a beeline to the bathroom to jump in a boiling hot bath. 

Well, his bathroom to be exact. For some reason being in an abnormally large tub felt more comforting at the moment. As I at in the middle of the pool-sized tub I started to feel Eris’ hands being washed off me. 

The experience was horrible. 

While he fingered me he allowed his hands and his mouth to run over every square inch of my body. My neck, my legs, my waist, the swell of my breasts. The only saving grace I had was that he didn’t take my dress off, but what comfort was that really? 

The worst part of it all was that I came for him. Something I wanted to reserve for Cassian and Cassian alone. The look on my face when I came undone, the sounds I made, all of those belonged to Cass. Yet, Eris had now borne witness to it, and I wondered if my general would still want me. 

A light knock sounded at the door. One I declined to answer. 

The door creaked open and from the side of my eye, I could see a tall figure in the doorway. His hair was swept up in a bundle at the base of his neck, red siphons glowing. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Cassian asked quietly, like if he spoke too loud I might shatter into a million pieces. 

“Not really,” I deadpanned, still unable to meet his gaze.

 I felt him kneel down beside the edge of the bath and in that moment I knew that he was aware of what transpired behind those closed doors and it took everything in me to not spill my guts. 

“Why my bath?” he asked, sensing I didn’t want to talk about it.

The subject change had me turn my eyes to him. Swirling around in that shade of hazel that made my stomach flip was all the sadness in the world and I cursed myself for being the reason that was so. Gods, I was a fucking monster no matter what I did. If I left Eris to be with Cassian I would bear the blood of thousands and if I stayed with Eris then I would watch the love of my life and the most honorable man I know be torn to shreds. 

“It’s bigger,” I shrug lifting my hand from the water to place it on his forearm that rests on the edge of the tub.  

He glances down to where our skin meets and I see his eyes go wide at the angry red color of my arm. 

“Y/n the water is too hot you’re burning yourself,” he fussed, placing a cool hand over the irritated skin. His eyes were glassy with worry and it drove a stake through my heart.  

“I don’t care,” I uttered. “I need the feeling of his hands all over me washed off.”  

“Then let me help you,” he says softly, grabbing a washcloth beside him and the bar of soap. “This is all I have,” he holds up the cedar-scented soap. “Do you want me to go to your room to get you something better?” 

“No, that’s fine,” I nod to him.

He lathers the soap in his hands and rubs down my shoulders, his strong fingers rubbing the tension from my muscles. The familiar smell of cedar surrounds me and I take a deep breath to bring the familiar smell deeper into my lungs. 

Cassian takes his time washing every inch of me, all the while his eyes looking for marks that Eris might’ve left of me. Like if he saw even the faintest bruise he would fly back and put his head on a pike. Cassian touches me like I’m made of glass and could shatter at every moment. Even while washing the most intimate parts of me he never made it feel sensual, it was just care, and love. 

He used the small bowl at the side of the tub to rinse the soap out of my hair, finally cleansing me of Eris at last.

“Better?” he asked, his voice less timid than last time. My body had loosened up, signaling I was coming back to myself. 

“Much better,” I smiled at him. “But I would be astronomically better if you were in here with me.”

“Can’t say no to that,” he smirked, rising from his knees to tug his clothes off. 

I couldn’t help but stare as he meticulously de-robed himself. Every gracefully carved muscle, every scar, the way that he moved. It was all so captivating. I had seen him bare before, but that was in a heat of lust. Seeing him like this? He was a work of art and I desperately wished I was an artist so I could paint him. 

He slipped into the tub behind me, arms instinctively wrapping around me to cradle me to his chest. On instinct, I flinched. Not because I thought Cassian would ever hurt me, but because I felt like I still carried the weight of what Eris had done to me. 

“You don’t have to feel guilty about what happened, you know?” Cassian said as if sensing my feelings. “You were a victim y/n. If I had been given permission I would’ve torn him limb from limb for touching you like that.” 

My body relaxed against his words but it didn’t stop the thought that plagued my mind, “he made me cum Cass.” I whispered. 

“That was your body’s natural reaction. You can’t control that,” he assures me, holding me even tighter. 

A beat of silence passes and I can’t help but remember the feeling of coming undone for Eris. 

Wrong. 

Wrong. 

Wrong. 

It felt so wrong when it happened. I had never been more ashamed in my life. I had promised that all of me belonged to Cassian and yet my own body betrayed me. I knew Cassian was right, it was just my body reacting, but it still happened and it raised one question…Did Cass still love me knowing that I had been defiled by another man?

I knew it was pathetic to ask. I felt like an idiot even bringing it up. But I wouldn’t know peace until I heard his answer.

“Do you still love me?” I said quietly, like if I said the words too loud they would turn around and bite at me. 

“Gods y/n of course I still love you. Sometimes I love you so much I can’t breathe, it’s like the words get caught in my throat and they suffocate me,” he says burying his head into the crook of my neck. 

I turn in his grasp to face him, water splashing around and spilling onto the tile floor. He looks so vulnerable like this, and it only makes me love him more. The fact that my mighty general would be this vulnerable for me, and only for me.

“Eris might take, and take, and take from me until I can figure this out,” I say, my wet hand caressing his cheek. “But all the while, I want you to know that every square inch of me belongs to you, Cassian. When my body leaves this world, my soul will stay with you, for to separate the two would be sacrilege.”

“Y/n,” he breathes softly before pressing his lips to mine. 

The feeling of his skin against mine is enough to cloud my head. The love is so strong, so real, the realest thing I’ve ever known. The kind of love that inspires books and sonnets. The kind of love that weaves its way into mythology forever recited by drunken men in taverns. 

I feel his arousal grow beneath me and my body goes weak at the knowledge that it happened just kissing me. 

“Fuck,” he hissed pulling away to peer down. “I’m so sorry y/n, I know you don’t want to given all that you went through-” 

I cut him off by pressing my lips to his, earning a low groan from deep in his chest. Maybe he’s right and I shouldn’t want this right now. But I do. I want him, I want all of him and I wonder if I’ll ever be truly sated. 

My hand ghosts over his chest, past his abs, and towards his cock. I pull my mouth from him to watch his face as I hardness beneath my fingers. In one swift motion, I line myself up and sink down onto him. 

“Oh fuck,” he moans, his eyes blown wide as he grips my hips sliding me up and down his length.

“Cassian,” I whisper long and low feeling every solid inch of him fucking into me.

His hands roamed my water-slick skin, making it easy for him to touch every inch of me. I would never get tired of this, of feeling so full. Of feeling completely and utterly one with him. I slammed my hips down on his, not caring about the massive amounts of water splashing over the edges. My hands roamed all over his body, loving the feel of every muscle beneath my fingers. 

“It’s like you were fucking made for me,” Cassian groans moving a wet hair from my face so he can press his forehead to mine.   

I place my hands on his abs to help move myself up and down his cock. My fingers secretly commit every single muscle to memory and I swear one day I’ll get myself off on his abs alone. My eyes open just enough to watch his face contorted in pleasure. His eyebrows furrow as if he’s trying to keep himself from losing control. 

I slow my movements, unable to keep the pace I set. His hands fly back to my hips holding them in place and suddenly he’s fucking himself into me at a rate that has my body going limp. The only thing keeping me up? My hands braced on his pecs.

“Oh gods Cassian!” I cry, my voice broken up as he hits me so deeply I never thought possible. 

“Cum for me y/n,” he grits out and it’s enough to have me seeing stars. 

“Ahhhh Cass!” I cry, cumming all over his cock eyes brimming with tears from the sheer pleasure.

He struggles to thrust back into me from the way my orgasm constricts around him. But I feel his thrusts start to falter as his head falls back on the edge of the tub. He cums in me with a groan so deep and primal I swear I could fuck him again if my legs weren’t so tired. 

I let my upper body fall onto his chest, and the sound of bathwater spilling reverberates around the room. I try to catch my breath as I think of how badly I already need him again. Even in a way that’s not sexual. I just need him near me, need his skin on mine, and for the life of me I can’t explain why. Was sex always like this? Is this why my parents kept me so sheltered? Because if I knew it would be like this I would never be able to stop? 

“Is it always like this?” I panted trying to regain my strength as I slumped onto his chest. “Was it like this with your other partners?” 

“Gods no, you’re my-” he pauses as if he’s thinking of the right thing to say. “You’re the love of my life. It’s not like this with anyone else.” 

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop needing you Cass,” I say, pressing my lips to his chest already craving the feel of him. 

“I feel the same y/n, I feel the same,” he says, kissing my brow. 

“Take me to bed?” I ask quietly.

“Of course baby,” he chuckles, standing out of the tub and taking me with him. 

I had been sleeping with Cassian for the past three nights after the ball. At first, I tried to sleep in my own bed, ignoring how badly I wanted him to hold me. I didn’t last long, as an hour in I found myself tiptoeing to his bedroom down the hall to crawl under his sheets. Before I could even lift a hand to knock he ripped the door open. Apparently, we both had the same idea. So he swooped me into his arms and tucked us both into bed. 

After that, neither of us even tried to pretend we didn’t want to fall asleep next to one another. 

Cassian dried me off with a fluffy towel, still careful as ever with every touch. After drying himself off he carried me to his bed where we snuggled down beneath the sheets just like we had that first night. 

I took a deep breath, running my fingertips up and down his arms as he spooned me from behind, his breath hot on my neck. As if in response he took a deep breath in, as if to savor me. 

“I can’t tell if I love how you smell like me or if I miss how you always smell like jasmine and amber.” he smiled into the crook of my neck. 

“I like smelling like you,” I laughed snuggling into him more.

Cassian pressed a kiss to my cheek and pulled me impossibly closer to him. As sleep settled deep into my bones I felt him curl a wing around me, like a second layer of protection. At that moment I slept soundly, for no sadistic prince or wicked dream could find me here. 

In that embrace, amidst the warmth and love, I found solace, knowing that in Cassian's arms, no darkness could ever touch me.

Part 7

Taglist: @crystalferret202, @nickishadow139 ,  @graceshifts , @writeroutoftime , @heyyitsnat21,  @stinkinstuffie , @lilah-asteria , @12358 , @fxckmiup, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @mybestfriendmademe, @anxious-study, @bxm-1012 , @mal-adaptive-dreams ,  @sh4nn ,

Permanent Taglist: @fides25, 

#cassian smut #cassian #cassian acotar #cassian x you #cassian x reader #cassian x reader smut #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #rhysand x reader #rhysand fluff #rhysand smut #rhysand #rhysand angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x reader smut #azriel smut #a court of thorns and roses

[m00nsbaby]

Clumsy.

Marc Spector + Steven Grant x F! Reader. (Ft Jake Lockley) Next part to Sleepwalking. (Or "Already over" part 3.)

Final part. Clumsy II.

Tags & warnings. Sensitive themes, mentions of emotional distress, mentions of mental health, angst but not as bad as the other parts lol.

Word count. 3.2k

Summary.

I flew too close to the sun, Fell back to earth like a stone. I got too high on myself, Too young and stupid to tell. I was bound to make a mess of things, Mixin' fireworks and gasoline, Never meant to make you fall with me.

Your definitive breakup with Steven marked a point of no return for all three involved in the situation.

Marc had to force himself to learn to live without crossing a word with Steven, and his solitary life suddenly felt emptier than it had ever been. All of a sudden, it felt as if there was a void in his chest that nothing could fill, not alcohol, not Layla's occasional company, nor missions that put his life at risk.

Marc's biggest fear came true when he realized he had lost his routine completely. His life had taken that 360-degree turn he never wished for.

"Steven?"

"Mhm?" He didn't even raise his gaze from his book to look at him in the mirror's reflection in front of him; he simply turned the page slowly.

"Did you tidy-up?"

"No."

The only thing that broke the silence for a few seconds was Steven's page turn, while the other observed the apartment that seemed slightly tidier.

The topic wasn't discussed further. In fact, nothing else was talked about, and Marc silently observed, as he had for the past month, wondering if he was going crazy, if Steven was lying to him for the sake of it, or if his chronic depression was clouding half of what he did during the day.

That day, he didn't claim the couch; as it started to get dark, he chose to 'disappear' rather than spend another night listening to Steven's sobs as he clung to the scarf you had forgotten in his apartment, the one that no longer smelled like you.

If broken hearts had a scent, it would probably be what was impregnated in the yarn of it, Steven's tears mixed with his own cologne.

And a hint of whiskey, from the nights when Marc would steal the garment while asking himself over and over again, 'What have I done?'

The next day, to the surprise of neither of them, more things seemed to have changed during the night. Steven had woken up wrapped in his bed's covers, not on top of them, wearing his favorite pajamas, and your scarf neatly folded on the nearby piece of furniture.

More organized books took their place on the bookshelf where they belonged before Steven had started piling them up on the floor.

"Steven?"

"No." His head remained on the pillow, his eyes still closed. He was tired of answering Marc's questions, which, in his eyes, never made sense.

Who cared if a book was here or there? He didn't even remember what he had eaten for breakfast the day before, if he even had breakfast at all. With even less reason, he would remember if he got up in the middle of the night to rearrange things in the apartment.

Steven didn't take long to fall asleep again. The only slightly bearable aspect of this situation was that, for the first time in their lives, both Steven and Marc were starting to sleep more, enough hours at night and a few extra in the afternoons. It turns out life becomes more tolerable when you're not aware of what's happening around you.

Even counting the vivid dreams, the constant dissociation that was nothing new for them, and the lost time that could be used for anything other than sleeping.

You were... better, all things considered, as it had been exactly 26 days since your breakup with the person you would forever consider the love of your life.

Of course, you still cried at night… and sometimes in the afternoons, rarely in the mornings when the sudden realization of what had happened struck. But taking care of a pet proved enough to keep you distracted for most of the day. Thanks to your little ball of fur, you managed to get up in the mornings and took constant showers just to go out for walks with him.

The only contact you maintained with Steven was once a week when you sent him a photo of the kitten. You always picked the best one for him, and he patiently waited to ask you a thousand questions he knew wouldn't really have answers.

No matter how desperate he was to have you back, he would always respect your decision to want space. He'd sooner die than make you feel uncomfortable, and he genuinely preferred anything over risking the only contact he had with you. So, he never pushed much further, although he never forgot to make it clear how much he missed you.

He's beautiful! Looks so much like his mom. (You) How's he doing, apart from being really cute? How are you? I hope you're doing incredibly well because I'd hate it if you weren't. I miss you so much, and I know Marc does too. Do you think it's possible for us to talk one of these days? If not, I understand. It's not a problem for me to wait if you change your mind at any time. I'll always be waiting for you. ❤️ Have a great week.

Unfortunately, in every moment you assured yourself you were moving on from Steven (and maybe even Marc), you found yourself smiling at his messages, even when you weren't willing to reply.

Marc ended up losing his last remaining shreds of sanity when a month and a week had passed since he last saw you. He was doing his best to reassemble the pieces of his life that had fallen apart, but unfortunately, every time he tried to put a fragment back together, another seemed to crumble.

When Layla welcomed him, she didn't kiss his lips as usual, and mentally he thanked her for it. Physical contact with her hadn't felt the same for a while.

It's funny how at some point in his life he had found himself deeply in love with his wife's small but strong hands. Now, he could only think about how rough she felt touching him and how they didn't compare to your hands when you used to play with Steven's curls.

It was torturous realizing that there was nothing that didn't remind him of you.

"We need to talk," she said, turning her back to him. All Marc could see as he entered the apartment were her curls.

"What's going on?" He knew exactly what was going on, of course. He had been waiting for this for a while now.

"We can't go on like this, Marc."

In a horrible déjà vu, he could swear you had told him something similar, or maybe it was Steven, who was attentively observing the scene from the headspace.

"What do you mean, Lay?"

"You know what I'm talking about." It hurt him to realize his tears no longer had an effect on him. When did he stop loving her? "You're not the same after what happened."

The upside was that this was the most they had talked since they started their relationship, without shouting or either of them storming off.

"It's like you're not here. You come, we have sex, and then what?" There was that irritated look, filled with resentment that maybe he deserved. He had seen it in you, in Steven, and now in Layla.

Marc was so tired of fighting that he had no strength left to keep his pride up. He nodded silently and decided to take whatever she had to offer. Maybe receiving a bit of the pain he had distributed among different people would be enough to heal one of the million wounds inside him.

"Is it because of her, huh?"

'It's not about her, it's that I'm falling apart inside.' He thought.

After denying it for so long, he never thought that the first time he would acknowledge his feelings for you would be to Layla.

He nodded.

"You're broken, Marc." And he was, there was no denying it. "You're so shattered that you hurt everyone who tries to get close to you." If she only knew the pain he had caused Steven, she might turn the metaphorical knife she was stabbing him with. "You're going to end up alone, Marc Spector, completely alone."

When did she start hitting his chest accusingly? No idea. He had disassociated after hearing the word 'broken' from someone other than himself.

"Marc?" Steven's soft English accent called his attention from the other side of the room. His tear-filled eyes couldn't locate which reflection he was calling from. "Let's leave."

And that was another stab right in the heart. After all he had done to hurt Steven, was he still trying to protect him?

Maybe he really was the awful person life was trying to prove him he was.

"I'm sorry." It was the only thing that came out of his throat, his voice nearly inaudible due to the painful knot within.

Layla laughed at him, as was logical. How foolish he had been to think that saying sorry was enough to fix such a huge mistake.

"Let's leave." Steven's voice was so reassuring it gave him the strength to move his legs that seemed rooted to the ground.

"You understand that I'm breaking this up, right? I don't want you to come back here."

He felt like he was running out of breath when he nodded. He barely managed to clumsily leave the place; he was so confused. What hurt so much? As curious as it might sound, the breakup wasn't his main problem.

Maybe it was realizing everything he had caused through his mistakes, that everything could have been resolved if he hadn't been so stubborn.

The pain in his knees momentarily brought him back to reality. His body was giving up, and he could swear he was about to throw up in his now ex-partner's building. He didn't want to forcibly trigger a switch with Steven, but when the flashes of white and black appeared in front of his eyes, he knew it was better to just let it happen.

A week later, your hair was dripping as you rushed to open the apartment door, having just stepped out of the shower. You expected to find your upstairs neighbor, that sweet elderly lady who occasionally stopped by to ask for things like sugar or eggs. It was the highlight of your week, as it often resulted in desserts gifted to you a few hours later.

Ah, and she adored Sekhmet, who was already by the door acting as a second doorbell, eager for you to open up.

"You better not run off, silly," you said before swinging the door open.

You almost screamed curses until your lungs gave out when you found him on the other side. Holding a bouquet of yellow flowers and wearing black leather gloves you'd never seen before.

"Steven?" you whispered, more to yourself than to him, and almost immediately shook your head. He didn't have Steven Grant's perpetual shy or embarrassed expression.

Nor did he have Marc Spector's eternally furrowed brow, a look of constant stress. Although, right now, without any knowledge of what was going on, he was your best guess.

"Marc?" The only sound for several seconds was the purring of Sekhmet, rubbing against his legs repeatedly.

What a traitor.

He seemed just as surprised to see you, as if he hadn't been the one knocking on your door. You furrowed your brow when he offered his free hand.

"Jake." You took his hand to shake it. "Jake Lockley."

"Are you kidding?" That was all you said, not even annoyed or scared, just confused.

When he shook his head, you accepted that answer because you knew your boys well. Neither of them would joke about something like this. But what the hell was going on?

"Come in." You did your best to smile as you stepped aside to give him space when you noticed his intention was to enter your apartment.

"Ah, I… These are for you." He extended the flowers, and your chest tightened. It was like seeing Steven on your first date, but with an extra dose of confidence. "The yellow flowers are for an apology. They symbolize hope for a quick reconciliation."

You took the flowers in your hands and looked at them closely for a few seconds. They were beautiful.

"And why would you have to apologize to me, Jake Lockley?" You closed the door behind him. Being disoriented helped you take in this situation better because if it weren't for that, you'd probably be in the middle of a crisis.

You cleared your throat as you leaned your back against the apartment door. You studied him closely, and there was no doubt in your mind.

That wasn't Marc, and definitely not your Steven.

"Marc's foolishness," he commented. The yellow suited your complexion. He noticed when you brought the bouquet closer to smell it. When you closed your eyes and took a deep sigh Jake thought he fully understood why Marc and Steven's lives were now in pieces.

He would be too if he had lost you.

Thankfully, they had their protector, the one who didn't give up at the first obstacle, luckily for Marc since Steven seemed as persistent. And he seemed to have watched enough novelas to have the smooth talking of a 90s casanova.

His plan was trying his best, though, you were the first girl in Jake's life. And considering the circumstances, probably the only one.

"Marc is forgiven," you smiled with a weight on your chest as you placed the flowers on the central table in your small living room. The cat wouldn't leave Jake alone, and you knew it was because, to him, Jake was Steven, the one he missed so much. "When Steven and I…"

His gaze refocused on you. He wanted to let you know his full attention was fixed on you.

"Shouldn't you explain your presence first, Jake Lockley?" You questioned with that same smile that revealed how emotionally and physically exhausted you were. Still, he nodded, running his fingers through his curls to put them back in place.

An action that made you audibly swallow.

The hours passed quickly. It turned out that Jake spoke about everything that Marc and Steven seemed to keep to themselves. He knew very well that based on the memories of both boys, there was no one better than you to understand his situation.

You learned that Jake was a protector for both of them, and neither Marc nor Steven were aware of him until now. His priority was the two of them, and he knew you perfectly from both of their points of view.

It was surprising to you, but somehow comforting to know that there was someone to take care of Steven when you couldn't. Jake confirmed your theories that he was as hurt as you were by the breakup, that he missed you as much as you missed him.

Oh, and in the same vein, you understood that he had felt the need to take control more in the last few days. It seemed Marc wasn't in the best condition either. Ironically, you could believe everything Jake said, even though you had only known him for about three hours. But Marc remorseful? That part sounded like a fairytale to you.

"I'm here because I need…" He cleared his throat, his fingers playing with each other. A while ago, he had gotten rid of his gloves. "I would like to." He corrected himself. "I would like for you to give Marc a chance to talk to you, hermosa."

You wondered if he was trying to sweet-talk you or if the endearing nicknames rolled off his tongue so easily because he still shared a body with Steven and Marc.

"I can't do that right now, no, I hope you can understand why." You cleared your throat. Your nerves stood on edge when Jake got up to sit on the couch next to you.

He offered you his hand, and you looked at it doubtfully.

"Jake, no."

"Please."

Those stupid gigantic brown eyes were fixed on you, and beyond the expressions that differentiated Jake from others, all you saw was Steven's sweet gaze.

Your Steven.

You swallowed hard and reluctantly gave him your hand.

He cradled it between his palms.

"Marc is devastated." His fingers gently tightened around yours. "And don't get me started on Steven. I can see that you're not well either."

His voice was so soft. Velvety.

You allowed yourself to be fragile in front of him because how could you lie? You were breaking apart, and the loneliness, not having someone to tell every night how much you missed the love of your life, was killing you.

A pout formed on your lips slowly.

"Please, I need you to listen," he whispered as he leaned down to meet your sad, wounded gaze. "Would you do that for me? I'm begging you."

Your eyes were brimming with tears as you looked at him, for the third time, forced to face this awful situation. Once again, it was your responsibility to be reasonable and tolerant, to swallow your pride, and worse, trample your dignity.

For Marc, again.

"I can't. I won't."

He drew your hands closer and gently kissed them, your fingers, your knuckles, the back of your hand. All while maintaining eye contact.

"Hermosa? You don't have to do anything." You were breaking his heart. "Just listen to him, okay? Not now."

When you hesitated again, he knew he had to play a low blow,

his last card.

"For Steven, could you?"

With a sob, you nodded, and Jake didn't hesitate to encircle you with his arms, pressing you against his chest.

"Shhh, hermosa." You didn't have memories of yourself in this situation. You were usually the one offering comfort, not receiving it. It felt good, for once, to have support and companionship.

It didn't last long before you decided to regain your composure. With a red nose and teary eyes, you straightened up, and Jake let you go without protesting.

"Do they know you came?"

"I told you, they don't know about me, darling." He covered his hand with his jacket sleeve and wiped the tip of your nose. In any other situation, you would have refused and said that was gross, but at that moment, the gesture just made you smile childishly. "I'll call you, okay? So you and he can meet and… talk."

By this point, it seemed like a work arrangement, but you had no choice but to accept it. You nodded in silence and did your best to smile at Jake, who looked at you with compassion, although mentally you were confusing it with pity.

"I have to go; they think… they're sleeping." He elicited a very slight laugh from you. If you were confused, you didn't want to know what it was like for them. You just nodded and opened the door for him to leave.

You said goodbye with an almost awkward hug because while he wondered why his arms clung to you as if they were Steven's, you questioned whether this was just a formality for Jake. Whether he just wanted to go back to his normal life, and that's why he was doing this. Either way, you appreciated the gesture, or whatever it was. At least the company in the afternoon had been nice.

You had a lot to think about, clearly. Nothing was stopping you from ignoring Jake for the rest of your days and never clarifying the darned conversation he wanted you to have with Marc. However, deep down, you did want to lay everything out when it came to him.

Needless to say, you cried all night, confused, hurt, sad. Just like the previous nights, with Sekhmet in your arms, meowing because he missed the smell of Steven.

Just like you did.

i know i know this feels like we got nowhere but i have to get you ready for the end of this, ok?? from now on everything depends on marc so lol good luck for y'all

LOVE YOUUU thanks for following this thing that was supposed to have just one part lol the next one will finally be the end >:)

#moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you #moon knight x y/n #moon system #moon system x you #moon system x reader #moon system x y/n #moon boys #moon boys x you #moon boys x reader #moon boys x y/n #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x y/n #jake lockely x reader #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x you #oscar isaac x reader

[forever-rogue]

Good evening I see ur wanting Rockstar Eddie requests 👀 what ab some humorous, sexy tension between him and his stage manager who's sick of him messing around and it comes to a head at one point. How it ends is up to you ;3

AN | I’ve decided that I love every version of rockstar!eddie. 18+ only 🥰

Warnings | Language, Smut [unprotected piv]

Pairing | Rockstar!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 4k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Are you serious, Edward?" You walked into his luxury apartment and saw that it was almost completely dark. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance, "Edward!"

"'m right here," you heard his slow, rough drawl coming from his bedroom, "no need to yell, babe."

You set your bag on the counter and practically stomped your way over to him, almost bursting into his room in anger, "I'm not your babe."

"But you sure are one," he grinned at you from under his wild mop of curls. He was still lying in bed, shirtless and only wearing a pair of boxers. You tried not to stare at his body, but found it a difficult challenge, "now relax and c'mere!"

"Absolutely not," you went over to the window and pulled the curtains wide open, letting in the bright sunlight. He groaned and burrowed his face into his pillow, "its noon, why are you still in bed?"

"Tired," he waved his hand dismissively, "long night."

"Drunk or high?"

"Why not both?"

"Eddie," his name fell softly from your lips as you sat at the edge of the bed.  He pushed his curls to the side and peeked at you with one eye, "I…listen, I don't know how to say this any other way but…"

"But what, sugar?" He'd always had a penchant for nicknames but especially nicknames for you. It still made your bones tingle, despite the fact that you'd known him for almost five years now.

"If you keep this up, I can't work for you or Corroded Coffin any longer," now that garnered his attention. He sat up, his lips in a pout as you picked at a loose thread on his comforter, "I can't be your manager if I have to keep babysitting you, Eddie. Taking care of you is like watching a child and honestly I'm tired of it. Tired of seeing you run yourself into the ground with all the alcohol and the drugs and…everything. You need to get your act together. I know you're a rockstar and whatever, but you can do it smartly too."

"Babe-"

"I'm not trying to change who you are," you swallowed thickly, "but I know you can do better. I'm tired of making excuses to cover for you, having to practically drag you out of bed, rescheduling meetings because you didn't want to show up, and doing damage control all the time. That is not what I signed up for."

Eddie suddenly felt stone cold sober as he studied you. He could see the look of pure disappointment on your face as you clearly tried not to cry. He hated seeing you cry; the realization that he was the one causing you the pain was a harsh reality check. He reached out for your hand but stopped himself, "what are you saying?"

"I'm saying…get yourself in check or I'm quitting," you slid off the bed and gave him a serious look. The man in question paled, "I'm serious, Eddie. If things don't change, you can look for a new manager."

"What about the rest of the guys-"

"They already know how I feel," you threw your head back and exhaled slowly, "they're not the problem. And honestly, Eddie, they're getting a little fed up too."

"Oh."

You stood up, hands on your hips as you bit your lip. Eddie looked nothing short of desperation.

"So…there it is. Prove to me you can make some changes or say goodbye," you walked towards the door but paused for a moment before turning back to him, "I'll see you at soundcheck tonight then. Six o'clock and don't be late."

You didn't wait for him to say anything before walking away. As you opened all the curtains on your way out and grabbed your stuff, you could hear him murmuring to himself. 

"Don't let me lose you," you whispered softly before shutting the door behind you and listening to the lock click.

"Fuck," Eddie rubbed at his throbbing temples before lying back down against the pillows. If you, one of the few people that had stuck around and been his rock, was at your wit's end, he knew something was wrong. He couldn't lose - he couldn't imagine a life without you in. Something had to give, "fuck."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You glanced at your watch, nervously pacing around as you waited for Eddie to show up. The rest of the band was already set up and waiting to practice. Gareth caught your eye and the two of you exchanged a worried glance. Was he going to show up?

A quarter after the hour you gave up on waiting, "go on and start…I guess we'll have to have this session without a singer and guitarist."

"You could step in," Jeff shot you a sweet smile as you shook your head. You played guitar, one of the many things that drew Eddie to you in the first place, but wouldn't call yourself an expert by any means.

"Maybe some other time," you promised, "I don't know how helpful I'd be tonight."

"You're-"

"I'm here!"

You all whipped around to find Eddie running in, guitar in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. He stopped in front of you and held out the flowers, trying to catch his breath, "Eddie?"

"Here," he panted through a grin, "I'm here. These are for you."

"O-oh," your eyes widened as he handed you the bouquet, which you shyly took. Your cheeks warmed up at the gesture, but you tried to remind yourself that one sweet gesture didn't make up for the last couple of years, "thank you. What's the occasion?"

"There wasn't one," he caught your eye and you saw that his eyes were clear and bright, which you hoped was a good sign. He turned to the rest of the band, "come on then, no time to waste."

After listening to them practice for a while, you decided to excuse yourself. They would be okay without you; you offered them a small wave before heading out. 

When you made it home, you put your flowers in a small vade and set them on the dining room table. Upon inspection, you realized that they were all your favorites. Of course Eddie remembered. He was a good, kind man underneath it all and always had been…lately he'd just been a little off track.

A knock at the front door startled you and you hesitantly walked to the door, looking through the peephole.

To your surprise, your favorite rockstar was on your front doorstep. He looked so beautifully out of place in your quiet little suburb. He always wondered why you preferred to live on the outskirts of the city rather than in the thick of it, but the beautiful quiet nights like this helped him see the appeal.

You opened the door and his face broke into a huge grin. He looked you up and down, "you look cute."

"I…" you looked down and realized you were in a ratty pair of pajamas - little shorts with a well-worn and oversized Corroded Coffin shirt. You rolled your eyes playfully before shaking your head, "what's up, Eddie? Do you…wanna come in?"

"You sure?" He raised an eyebrow, leaving the choice with you. But you didn't hesitate to nod as you stepped to the side.

He followed you into the living room and made himself comfortable on the oversized, comfy chair opposite the couch. A wave of nerves washed over you for a moment. Why were you suddenly feeling this way? He'd been in your house on many occasions and you'd spent so many thousands of hours in each other's company. He shouldn't make you nervous anymore.

But deep down you knew why.

"Everything alright?" You asked softly as he took a moment to exhale before nodding.

"I just wanted to apologize," he seemed to find everything interesting except for your face, "not just for today but for…fuck, the last couple of years. You're the last person I want to hate me. And I wouldn't blame you if you still did."

"I don't hate you," you promised, voice sweet and saccharine, "I could never hate you. Even if you've been a dick. You're still my favorite person underneath it all. Rockstar or not."

"I'm working on it," he was trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in his stomach at the words favorite person. You were his too, and had been since the day he met you, "I think the last couple of years have been hard. It feels like so much has changed."

"That's a part of life, babe. The rest of the guys getting married and having kids isn't a bad thing and doesn't change the band or who they are," you knew that had been a bit of contention for some time now, even if he hadn't wanted to admit, "you're still one of the most famous rockstars in the world. But it's still okay to change. You're Eddie fucking Munson, come on! You don't need to party, drink, do drugs or sleep around to stay relevant or young or anything."

"Yeah, I guess I've always known that," he scratched at the back of his head nervously, "it was just hard to accept the idea I guess."

"I hate to break it to you, but you're not exactly a fresh-faced and young musician. You've been at this for like fifteen years now…things were going to change eventually. And that's okay," you'd scooted closer to him, "its all okay and it's going to be okay. You've got us, you're not alone."

"You…" he trailed off softly, "how have you stuck around me for so long?"

"Eddie," your heart felt like it was about to help out of your chest. You definitely weren't about to spill your deepest secrets to him. He might have been your friend but he was also your client, "I…"

"Hmm?" He was absolutely pushing your buttons, trying to encourage you to let it all out. You were almost positive that he knew how you felt about him…you doubted you were that subtle.

"You know why," you grabbed one of the pillows and tossed it at him. It hit him square in the face but made him laugh nonetheless, "I'm not saying it, you dick!"

"Say it," he slid off the armchair and sat next to you, "please?"

"Fuck, Eddie, I-" instead of saying another word or letting him get a word in edgewise, you took his face in your hands and crashed your lips onto his. Your actions caught him so off guard that it took him a moment to react; for a moment you’d worried that you’d overstepped. 

But he quickly returned your kiss, large hands - rough and calloused but still so gentle - found your hips as he pulled you onto his lap. He practically groaned as you settled onto him, looping your arms around his neck as you refused to break the kiss. Eddie would never admit how long he’d dreamed of his moment, about how many songs he’d written about you. He knew that he didn’t really have to tell you - you already knew. 

You felt his hands snake up your shirt, fingertips ghosting over your soft, supple skin. Your skin was practically on fire and you wanted more, more, more. You could feel how hard he already was under you, how his lips tried to taste every inch of your skin. And god knows you wanted him and needed him so badly, craved him, but you couldn’t do it. 

Not now. 

“Eddie,” you put your hands on his chest and gently pushed him back. He stopped immediately and looked at you in concern, worried that he’d overstepped and made you uncomfortable. 

“What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing,” you whispered, touching his face and brushing your thumb over his cheek, “really. I-I want this…fuck, I’ve wanted this, you, for so long…”

“Why do I feel like there’s a but coming?” he laughed softly before resting his forehead on your shoulder. You loved the way his soft curls tickled your cheek, “baby - baby.”

“Not tonight,” you rubbed his back gently before lightly scratching at his scalp, “I don’t want to just rush into this and have it turn into…a one-time thing.”

“It would never be that-”

“Yeah?” you bit the inside of your cheek as he nodded, “good. But…I still. Eddie, prove to me that you’re willing to step up and make some changes. One good day isn’t going to change everything after so long.”

“I will,” it wasn’t even a question in his mind. If his choices were to keep going as he had been or to keep you, it wasn’t even a choice. The corner of your mouth quirked up into a smile and Eddie couldn’t help but kiss, “I mean it.”

“We’ll see,” there was a teasing lilt to your voice that made you both laugh, “until then…I think it’s time for you to go home, rockstar.”

“They’re going to have a field day with this you know,” you raised an eyebrow in confusion, “when you actually let me take you on a date. Tabloids have spectuling for years.”

“How very scandalous indeed,” you snorted in amusement, as you got off his lap. You could see how hard on and cringed slightly when you realized how uncomfortable it must have been…oops. You reached for his hand and pulled towards the door, “you assume I’ll agree to a date?”

“Yes,” so confident and sure, “I’ve asked before…you never said yes though.”

“It wasn’t the right time.”

“Now is?”

“Maybe,” you opened the door and he stepped onto the porch, surrounded by the cool evening air and chirping crickets, “I’m gonna make you work for it, Edward. Not just for me, but for yourself. I want you…to be the best you for you.”

“I know,” he smiled and looked up at you from his lashes, “but you’re it too. Waiting for you.”

Well he definitely knew how to make you swoon. Then again, he’d been doing so for years now, even if he hadn’t realized it.

“Good night, Eddie,” you leaned against the door and sighed softly.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he took a step backwards and offered you a crooked smile in parting along with a little wave. 

You returned it before closing the door and leaning back against it. 

Well. This night had gone very differently than you had anticipated. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Over the next couple of months, to your surprise and delight, Eddie really did make some positive changes. The thing was that you didn’t want to change him, that was never the question. He was still the boy you’d started crushing on almost a decade ago. It was kicking the unhealthy habits that were no good for him that you wanted.

You asked him to prove it to you, that he was serious about slowing down on the partying and the hard lifestyle and recommitting to Corroded Coffin. 

And prove it, he did. He also hadn’t asked you out again, or tried to even kiss you. He was going to let you make the decision of when - and if - you were going to broach the subject again. 

One night, everything seemed to come together perfectly. The band had played a sold out and successful show in New York City, which was a win in and of itself. Then he did the unexpected and performed a new song, one you hadn’t even heard, and dedicated it to you. 

That was enough to make you feel everything all at once. That was when you knew. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Munson!” you caught him as you walked backstage after the show. He turned around at the sound of your voice and his pretty face broke into a huge grin. You ran over to him, practically jumping into his arms and knocking him over. He caught you, the two of you giggling at each other like mad, “you’re an asshole!”

“How am I an asshole?!”

“Because you weren’t supposed to make me cry,” you brushed some sweaty curls out of his face, “I can’t believe…you did that. For me.”

“It’s all for you,” he kicked open the door to his dressing room and stepped inside. He slammed it shut and locked it, keeping away prying eyes and ears. He set you down gently before kissing you, taking your face in his face and refamiliarizing himself with your lips, “baby.”

“Ask me,” you pulled back and practically beamed at him, “ask me how I feel about you.”

“How do you feel about me?” he held your waist, his heart beating wildly and threatening to burst out of his chest. He’d been waiting for this moment, and he’d pictured it probably a hundred different times and yet, he never imagined this.

“I love you,” there it was out in the open. It was terrifying and electrifying all at once. Eddie’s honey brown eyes widened in surprise and there was only a moment of uncertainty in them before his expression softened. Hardcore rockstar turned ridiculously soft, “umm…yeah. That’s ugh…how I feel.”

“Good,” he pressed his forehead against yours, “because that’s how I feel about you, sweetheart. I love you…have for a long time.”

“Me too,” you rocked back and forth on your heels, insides bubbling with butterflies and anticipation. 

You hesitated for just a moment but the two of you were so in sync that you leaned in to kiss each other at the same time, accidentally bumping noses and clicking your teeth. A nervous laugh escaped your lips as he quickly kissed you again. 

He picked you up, carrying you towards the couch without skipping a beat. You were all tangled in him and kissing him fiercely. Eddie plopped down and settled you on his lap, hands already working under your shirt and exploring your skin and mapping it all out with soft touches. You leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering shut as felt him trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck, making it a point to leave a constellation of lavender love bites in his wake. 

“Eddie,” his name was a breathy whisper as you tugged at the hem of his t-shirt. He leaned back from you for just a moment before hastily ripping his shirt off and tossing it to the side. The sight of his pale, inked skin made you practically feral. You’d seen him shirtless countless times but never in this context; you wanted to map out every inch of skin with your lips. 

“May I?” he reached for your shirt and you nodded, holding up your arms to help him. Not that it mattered, but you were suddenly so glad you wore a pretty, lacy matching set. His eyes grew back as he groaned, “you’re killing me. Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

Your face warmed up under his praise and he grabbed your chin and turned your face to meet your eyes, “Eddie-”

“I mean it,” he whispered, “and not just because my dream girl is sitting half naked in my lap.”

“You’re making it really hard-”

“I think that’s you,” he cheesed at you as played along by moving your hips along his. He hissed and threw his head back, “fuck, you’re playing dirty.”

“Maybe so,” you reached behind your back and undid your bra, tossing to join your shirts. His eyes grew wide as saucers and he felt like an awkward teenage boy again, “I hate to ruin the romance, but I really want you inside of me.”

“Y-yeah,” he sucked in a breath as you reached for the waistband of his jeans, popping the button and lowering the zipper. You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up when you saw that he wasn’t wearing underwear, “what?! My jeans are tight.”

“You’re…something else,” he rucked your shirt up to your waist, smirking at the pretty pair of panties…that he quickly tore off you,”Edward!”

“I’ll buy you new ones,” he growled as he went back to kissing you, lips trailing along your collarbones, “I’ll buy you all the pretty lingerie you want as long as you wear it for me.”

“What if I want nothing but granny panties?”

“Whatever you want,” he promised, “you’ll look gorgeous in whatever.”

“That’s the perfect answer,” you reached down and took his length in your hand, practically causing him to have a heart attack as you stroked him a few times. He was biting his lip to hold back his moment but then quickly changed his mind and let it all out, “hmm, you sound so pretty. But I need you inside.”

“I don’t - fuck - I don’t have a condom-”

“I’m on the pill,” you promised, “I trust you’re clean?”

“Got tested the day after you kicked my ass,” he winked, “and there hasn’t been anyone else.”

“Good,” you shifted so you could line him up at your entrance and slowly sank down on him, causing both of you to moan at the feeling. It took a moment to adjust to him - he definitely wasn’t lacking - but once you did, he felt so perfect, “you doing okay?”

“Yup,” he nodded, his face contorted in a look of pure pleasure, “you just feel so good, I-I need a moment or this is going to be over very quickly.”

“That’s okay,” you kissed him sweetly, brushing your knuckles over his cheek, “we’ve got plenty of times to do this again.”

“Is that a promise?” this time it was your turn to kiss him, to mark him up as you pleased to let everyone know he was yours. You nipped at his soft skin before soothing it with your lips, “I-I see that’s a promise.”

“Of course it is,” you started to move slightly, but Eddie was not having it tonight. Tonight he really just needed you. He put his hands on your hips, holding on so tightly that you were sure you’d be sporting finger shaped bruises tomorrow - not that you minded. 

“Sorry baby,” he started to fuck into you, hard and fast, causing your eyes to almost roll back. You moaned as he touched your clit and fucked you; the delicious warmth was starting to radiate out throughout your entire body as you soon felt him twitch inside of you, “fuck, I-I’m not gonna last. Where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you rolled your hips in time with his, closing your eyes as you felt your release start to wash over you, “inside, please.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” his flopped against the back of the couch as you felt him paint your insides with his release. You came along with him, leaning his body as you rode out your orgasm, his deft fingers still touching your clit. At some point you had to push his hand away before the overstimulation was too much. 

You all but collapsed against him, and he wrapped his arms around you. Eddie could feel your grin as you trailed your lips along his neck, “that was-”

“Amazing?’ he finished for you, turning your face up to his so he could kiss, “I can’t wait to do that again.”

“Me too,” you admitted sheepishly, “and if you still wanted to go out on that date….I’m free whenever.”

“Oh, I’m taking you on all the dates,” he playfully scoffed as though that had ever been a question, “and going to show everyone that you’re mine.”

“I’m proud of you, Eddie,” those words had way more of an impact on him than you could have expected. He practically preened under your praise, “you really made a lot of changes and I can see that you’ve been happier. That makes me happy too.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he traced aimless shapes into your back, “seriously. You’re the best thing in my life. I love you, really.”

“I know,” you pressed a sweet, saccharine little kiss to his cheek, “I really love you. Can I ask for one thing?”

“Anything.”

“Round two?”

“Fuck yes.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson imagine #rockstar!eddie #joseph quinn #st

[lovebugism]

BIZARRE LOVE TRIANGLE | in the middle

summary: when steve and eddie fight, they leave you right smack dab in the middle of it pairing: steve harrington / f!reader / eddie munson warnings: the tiniest bit of angst, barely proofread word count: 1.8k a/n: one like and i turn this into a whole steddie series

Nobody ever said relationships were supposed to be easy. Actually, they were pretty fucking hard. Two different types of people, sharing one space, each with one half of their heart with the other — it’s bound to get a little exhausting at some point. But add a third person to that equation and ‘a little exhausting’ becomes completely cataclysmic. 

But that’s the thing about Steve and Eddie. It was rarely ever like that between the three of you. You guys loved and cared for each other equally and that was that. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Steve didn’t feel cramped when another man entered the relationship. Eddie didn’t feel less loved because he weaseled his way into the pair of you a little later than he would’ve liked. Neither of them felt like it was a burden to share you. It was just your own little thing and it was perfect.

That didn’t mean they didn’t annoy the ever loving shit out of each other, though. There was always lighthearted teasing between all of you, but it was different with Eddie and Steve. There was always a sense of competition, an air of dominance that one always tried to overshadow the other with. All this time later, they hadn’t yet run out of stones to throw, always equipped with some sardonic jab (or more) to pelt the other with.

But sometimes they poked too hard. Sometimes the stupid joke really hurt.

It wasn’t a rarity for them to get angry with each other, that came with the package of relationships, all wrapped up with a sparkly little bow. But they hardly ever fought like this.

Most times, stupid squabbles were all too quick to simmer.

Eddie would drive around with his radio turned all the way up until he blew off steam. You’d stress clean until the house was sparkling to distract yourself from your own mucky thoughts. And Steve would usually just linger around until someone finally bit and asked him what was wrong so that he could berate everyone with the speech he’d been prepping in his head.

Even when it was hard, it was still so easy.

But Eddie was strange. Anger washed off of him like water from a duck’s back. For a guy who spent seven years in high school, he was strangely mature — he knew people said shit they didn’t mean and that you and Steve sometimes just liked to push his buttons for the hell of it. It was usually insanely easy for him to let things go. He didn’t get mad very often. 

But when Eddie Munson was mad, he was fucking pissed. 

When he trudges into the bedroom that night, after spending the entire day absolutely fuming at Steve, he carries a thundering storm cloud with him. 

You’re tucked safely in the middle of the mattress, sitting in wait for both your boys, and watching silently as he makes a b-line for Steve’s side. He grabs his pillow and the spare blanket he always had to use because you and Eddie inevitably stole all of the covers. Like a child, he drops them to the floor at the foot of the bed on his way to his own side. And without a word, he sheds the shirt from his back and peels away the blanket to get into bed beside you. 

He’s radiating warmth like a space heater and he’s all tense like you’re lying next to a rock — a big, angry rock, with wild curly hair that somehow always gets in your mouth come sunrise.

“Eddie,” you start meekly, bringing your knees to your chest. Your eyes glimmer with uncertainty, as though you were poking a sleeping bear. In some ways, it felt like you were. He’s facing away from you now and you have to fight the urge to run a hand over the expanse of his bare, freckled back. You fear in some roundabout way that in stewing in his anger, he’s found a reason to be mad at you too.

“He can sleep on the fucking couch for all I care,” he grumbles into his pillow.

“He’s been apologizing all day,” you try and defend the lone boy downstairs. “Just let him come to bed.”

“No. I’m still mad.”

“…Do you even know why you’re still mad at him?”

“Yeah I do! Because he—” he lifts his face from the mattress to turn and look at you. You watch his anger ebb into a look of confusion, face scrunching as he tries to remember what Steve had done in the first place to get him so messed up. He comes up short. You bite back a smile. He turns away, mumbling, “—Doesn’t matter. ‘M still pissed.”

Steve doesn’t come into the bedroom for a while. You have your eye on the flashing numbers of the clock on your bedside table in anticipation for his arrival. He waits twenty minutes exactly after Eddie to come up. Maybe because he was waiting for the boy to calm down. Or maybe because he was waiting for him to fall asleep. Either way, he wants to avoid another argument.

But you — you haven’t moved an inch. You’re still propped up against the headboard, resting your head on your bent knees in wait for him. You know you’re not getting any sleep if he’s not beside you, there’s not a point in trying.

“He still pissed at me?” Steve wonders into the darkness as he lingers in the doorway. The silhouette of him is lit by the dim light in the hallway.

You nod, sheepish and shy.

“And I guess he wants me to sleep on the couch?” he asks with a breathy laugh, motioning to his pillow on the floor as he walks further into the bedroom.

Again, you nod.

“That’s okay,” he mumbles softly to himself. You can hear the hurt in his tone, like he understands why but feels like sting of it anyway as he collects his bedstuff. “I would probably make him do the same—”

You rise from your sacred spot and move to the edge of the mattress. You wrench the cushion in his hands in your fist before he can walk away. He turns to you, soft looking, a little sad, and in desperate need of a kiss.

He furrows his brows down at you, like he’s worried something might be wrong. Because, of course, Steve’s got his own inner turmoil to deal with, but he’s always concerned about you most of all. “Yeah?”

“You two are being childish,” you say to him and to the (fake) sleeping boy on the other side of the bed, staring up at him, trying your best to look stern. “And I get it, but it always leaves me in the middle, and it sucks.”

Steve deflates with a sigh. 

Fights were different when it was just the two of you.

Both of you were angry, both of you were sad, both of you were hurt. You could so easily fall into the cycle of selfishness in your heartache without having to worry that someone else might be affected by it. But here you were now, stuck between a rock and a hard place because your favorite boys were too stupid to make up with each other.

“Oh, baby,” he hums quietly, somehow more saddened by the crestfallen twinkle in your eye and the fact that he’s hurt not one, but two of the people he loves most in the world. 

He sets the pillow and blanket on the bed, freeing his hands so he can wrap them around you. He tucks his face into your neck and finds a refuge there, feeling stupid for depriving himself from such a gentle softness while he spent all day stewing in his rage.

You feel the deep exhale leave his nose and fan against your skin when you bring your hands to his hair, entwining your fingers between the chocolate strands.

“I’m sorry,” his apology is muffled against your shoulder. “It’s not fair to you—”

“Jesus, you guys don’t need to get all weepy about it. Just get in the fucking bed,” Eddie finally concedes from beneath the covers, though still in his grumbly thunder cloud mood.

It makes you beam anyway, knowing it’s partially because he was feeling left out.

Steve watches the grin form on your lips and the way you rush back to your spot on the bed, all excited like it’s the first time you three are sharing one. He can’t help but smile too as he follows in behind you.

A sigh spills from his lips when he’s finally beneath the covers and close to the both of you, settling his tired bones for the first time all day.

“Wait,” you complain softly into the silence, displeased at they’re going to sleep without having said a word to each other. “You guys have to kiss and makeup.”

“No,” Eddie’s quick to reject.

Steve smiles sadly when you turn your head to look at him. “He said no, babe.”

“But you have to! That’s the rule!”

No one moves for several long moments. Steve idles and waits for Eddie’s reaction because the whole kiss and makeup thing requires a second party, after all. And you’re waiting for both of them to come to their senses with an atmosphere of childlike doom and gloom radiating off of you. 

Eddie can feel it from where he lays next to you. He’s not even looking at you and he can see the pout on your lips and the worried frown settled between your brows. It makes him sigh because he couldn’t avoid you even if he wanted to, always so effortlessly in tune with what you’re feeling even in his annoyed stupor.

There’s no way he’s getting sleep when his best girl is upset.

With a rather dramatic huff, he rises. Steve tries to not look too smug when a grin pulls at the corners of his lips. He leans on his elbows and catches the boy’s lips halfway, sharing a brief but no less loving peck over top of you. 

You look like sunshine personified, practically lighting up the darkened room with your wide smile, as you watch them lock lips just over your own face. It’s like falling in love with them all over again. “I’m never gonna get tired of that,” you beam with hopeless adoration, grateful for the ebbing tension.

“We know,” Eddie quips. His signature grin returns, the anger all gone. It crinkles the corners of his eyes.

The two boys press their lips against your cheeks next, sprinkling wet kisses to the blushing apples of them most ardently, until your face is softly scrunched between them. You giggle with mirth and feel them smile against your skin.

This is how you want to be in the middle of them. Forever and ever and ever.

have any more steve thoughts? or just thoughts about my writing/requests in general? leave them here if you want! ꒰◍ᐡᐤᐡ◍꒱

#two posts in one night??? it's more likely than u think #stranger things imagine #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #steddie x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine #steve harrington imagine #eddie munson angst #steve harrington angst #published by bug #st drabbles

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Alright, real full hc ask & this time it's full of angst >:D

So, one night MC has a really bad nightmare where the M6 die horribly, and wake up from it in a panic that only increases when they realize their beloved is not in the bed with them.

Turns out the M6 are just in the next room over getting a drink or something, & have to rush back to the bedroom to comfort MC

The Arcana HCs: M6 when MC has a nightmare of them dying

~ @themushroomgoesyeet here are your headcanons, friend, thanks for the lovely ask! ~

CW for descriptions of loss, grief, and panic. more notes at the end regarding the content of MC's nightmare

-- to set the scene --

It's dark. Dust and smoke settle in your lungs as you stumble through the streets of Vesuvia, trying to get through the press of bodies making a hurried trek towards the docks. You just want to get to your shop, you just want to see the lantern and your beloved's face in the window, you just want to be -

Home.

Your body goes still, cold as the grave as your blood sinks into your feet. Home is gone, the splintered apothecary's sign creaking as it swings from the chunk of rubble on the sidewalk. You stumble forward into the charred pile of wood and stone, searching for a sign, a scrap, anything, to tell you that something has survived. That someone has survived. It's hard to recognize it at first, coated with the same grey dust and poking lifelessly out of the rubble, but as you crouch for a better look, there no mistaking the thing you've lovingly grabbed a thousand times.

It's their hand.

You jolt awake when your voice chokes on a scream. The room's gone dark, the bed you're lying in is missing a body, and the pillow by your head has gone cold. You're not sure what comes out first - the panicked sob from the horror of losing them, or the fearful cry of their name as your nightmare seems to come true.

Julian

He's going to feel bad about this for weeks - he'd stayed up researching in his medical textbooks waaay past when he'd promised to come to bed

He thought he heard you call his name, and, surprised at how late you're awake, he came upstairs to see if you needed anything

As soon as he gets close enough to hear you panicking, he's bursting into the room so he can pull you into his arms

He's asking what happened right away. He's not going anywhere or trying to move you until you can talk to him

He's also going to ask you what the dream was about, if all you can say at first is "nightmare." He's learned the importance of voicing your fears and he doesn't want to leave you alone in that story

The best active listener. Brushes your hair out of your eyes, sighs and winces with every horrific detail you share, and murmurs empathetic responses to each description of loss

Ultimately ends up talking through your fears with you. He knows you've had to watch him die before, he understands why reliving it would be so traumatic, and he wants to help you process it

He'll guide your hand to his pulse point and breathe in time with you, reminding you with every exhale that he's alive and well

Asra

They'd fallen asleep next to you earlier, but they'd also told you before bed that there would be a celestial event tonight that they didn't want to miss. They're stargazing on the rooftop

He's jolted out of his reverie by a sudden, sharp tug on his bond with you. He can feel your magic scrambling for any sign of his presence and the underlying panic and fear

They don't hesitate, they're running down into the house and sprinting for your room as fast as they can to make sure you're ok

As soon as he spots you, he's putting himself where you can see him and asking if it's okay to hold you. He's quick to check you over for any injuries while he asks you what's wrong

Once they know it was a bad dream, they're taking you by the hand and collecting pillows and blankets to take to the roof. They've already got tea and snacks up there from their stargazing session

He buries you in a pillow pile with him under the night sky, where there's nothing to see but the stars and each other, and pulls your hand to his heartbeat while he tangles all your limbs together

They remember what it was like to lose you, and the comfort they craved from you as they grieved. It's oddly cathartic to give you what they needed and stay with you as you go back to sleep

Nadia

Her insomnia was acting up again, so rather than idle away time in the dark, she went across the hall to her office to get some work done. There's always a stack of proposals waiting her approval ...

She had a hard time hearing you from two rooms away, but you sounded so urgent she put her teacup down immediately and hurried over to investigate

You can imagine how her heart wrenched when she saw you sitting up in her bed, wearing the same expression she used to feel when she was trapped in a coma full of nightmares

To say that she's beyond sympathetic is an understatement. She's climbing in bed next to you and pulling you into her lap right away

She'll hold you until you calm down, and then invite you to come sit with her in her warmly-lit office and share her tea

If you want to talk and process what you dreamed about, she'll listen closely and come up with ways to help you feel safer

If you want to focus on something else, she'll pull out her favorite book of Prakran poetry and read you her favorite verses

And if you're too tired to think and just want to sleep in peace, she'll lay you down on her sofa with your head in her lap, gently petting your head to the sound of her quill on the parchment

Muriel

He'd woken up because he was thirsty

Normally, you keep a jug in the hut filled with drinking water, but it hadn't been replenished before bed so he went out into the clearing to draw some more from the spring

When he came back inside to see you huddled and sobbing in the furs, his first instinct was to look wildly around the room for any signs of danger and violence while he reached for his staff

Once you spot him and show relief, he gets a better idea of what's happened and joins you on the bed while he quietly asks if you're okay (you're obviously not, but it's the best he comes up with)

He knows what horrific nightmares are like. He's not going to let you hide away and work it out by yourself

As soon as he knows it'll help, he's holding you as closely and firmly as you need him to

He'll settle against the wall by the bed, wrapping both of you in the weight of the furs while Inanna lies across your feet

And then he'll tell you in a low, rumbling murmur about all the good things you have around you, replacing each bleak image with your warm, safe reality. You have the soft clothes on your back, the sound of Inanna's panting, and the brush of his lips on your face

Portia

She woke up annoyed because Pepi felt the need to sit on her face and screech into her ear until she refilled her food bowl (in classic cat fashion, said food bowl wasn't even completely empty)

She was too sleepy and distracted with her task to hear you, and didn't know what had happened until she walked back into the bedroom and saw your state. Once she did, she was wide awake

Immediately turns on all the lights to make it easier to stay present and asks you whats wrong

A nightmare? She doesn't get many of those, but from the look on your face, it must have been horrific. You need a change of scenery and lots of tender loving care before she goes back to sleep

She'll set you both up in front of the fire in the living room, carding her fingers through your hair and bathing your face while you calm down enough to tell her more

Once you've told her everything, she's finding you both a distraction. She's making hot chocolate while you read aloud

She doesn't want you to have to go back to sleep in the same spot where you panicked, so she sets up a pile of blankets in front of the fire and snuggles up with you before falling back asleep

Pepi feels so bad she brings you her catnip toy to help you relax

Lucio

He had to use the bathroom

Which, at the particular inn you're staying at, involves him leaving the rented room and walking down the hallway because he doesn't like the lingering smell of using the chamber pot by the bed

When he walks back in to the sight and sound of you panicking, he starts panicking too. If it could scare you, it must be horrifying

The sound of him panicking is enough to ground you in the present, and he's never one to resist you yanking him into bed

Nor is he one to resist you holding him close. Squeeze him as tight as you need to, MC, he'll squeeze you right back with no complaints. Though he's still worried and confused

Pesters you until you tell him about your nightmare - which, after the warzones he's participated in, isn't hard for him to imagine. He's a little shaken up too by the time you finish

Spends the next several hours telling you why what you saw isn't going to happen. You're the best magician there is, MC, and he's the best fighter, and together you're too strong to die (again)

He'll offer to keep watch, if it'll make you feel safe enough to sleep again, though he'd rather doze off together

Holds your hand every night for the next few weeks

A/N: if the content of MC's nightmare sounds familiar to you, that's because it's a fraction of the horrific reality that thousands (if not millions) of people have been suffering through in Gaza since early October. I haven't been sure how to carry my real-life concerns into a space as relatively insignificant as a headcanon blog, but here we are.

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

[indiefilmfatale]

one, two, three (eddie munson x steve harrington x afab fem reader)

gif by acecroft ^ READ PART TWO HERE <3 plot: a casual smoke sesh with you, your boyfriend eddie, and your best friend steve turns into something...... less casual lol content warnings: smoking/drug use, voyeurism (eddie loves to watch), dirty talk, heavy petting, begging, fingering, overstimulation, eddie calls reader baby word count: 2.6k a/n: i hope yall like my first one shot! the ones been brewing for a while. it's pretty drawn out but i think its worth it smut below the cut!

Eddie's bed was probably your favorite place in the entire world.

It was an odd choice for a favorite place. His mattress wasn't anything special, probably over a decade old. His pillows are too flat for you. He doesn't even have a top sheet, just sleeps with the same old quilt every night. But damn it, every time you got in it, you either got high or got fucked. So yeah, it was your favorite place in the world. And it only gets better when your favorite people are in it too.

You sat on the end of the bed, facing the headboard, your legs criss-crossed. Eddie was on your left, laying down but propping his torso up with his elbows. His feet press against your hip, occasionally rubbing them softly against you, just to let you know he was thinking about you.

Steve was to your right. He laid flat on his back, hands plopped casually on his chest. It was rare, just the three of you hanging out without Nancy or Robin. Not that you minded, it was nice to have the occasional smoke session without Robin's constant babbling. She got ten times more talkative when she was high, but you'd also be lying if you said you didn't miss it a little bit.

Still, you were content. Sitting between your favorite boys, passing around the second joint of the hour. You were all substantially stoned already, but it was a Saturday, and the second joint was just sitting there.

And in the midst of the smoke, and jokes, and Eddie's little touches– the conversation seemed to have somehow drifted into unknown waters.

"Is it weird to not want to cum for like, a while during sex?" Steve eyes are staring at the ceiling. "Like I like it when a girl," He paused, not because he didn't know what to say, but he didn't know if he should say it. "Makes me.... wait for it?" His hands fly to his face, pressing against his eyes firmly. He lets out a groan, "I don't know what I'm talking about, nevermind."

You found it intriguing that Steve was so skittish when he talked about sex, since he seemed so experienced. Your mind drifted to the image of a girl on top of Steve, grinding slowly, tortuously slow, as his face contorts. You felt a twinge in your core, then pushed the thought away.

"No, it's not weird at all." You comforted Steve, your voice dragging slightly due to the pot. Eddie, who currently had the half-gone joint in his possession, nodded to agree with you– His lungs too filled with smoke to speak.

Steve didn't take his hands off of his face. "Well what do you know about this? You're a.. girl. You don't have to worry about cumming because if you do–" Steve raised his arms to emphasize, jerking them in a circular motion. "You can just do it again. And again."

Eddie cuts him off, "And she does." They burst into a fit of drug induced giggles.

"Eddie!" You exclaim, surprised. Both of you rarely mention any details of your sex life. But you didn't scold him, instead just playfully rolling your eyes. Something inside you didn't mind that Steve knew, maybe you were even a little excited about it.

His hand outstretches toward you, handing you the joint as the laughter dies down. "Sorry, baby, I think there's truth serum in this batch from Rick."

"You might be onto something there." Steve says as he sits up, leaning against Eddie's headboard. You watch him as you take a hit, adjusting himself to get comfortable. He finally rests his head back, staring forward in thought.

You didn't realize you had even been staring for that long until you saw Eddie in the corner of your eye, head rested in his hand, watching you watch Steve. You catch his gaze and his mouth flicks into a small smile. Then you watch him turn to Steve, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Isn't my girlfriend fucking gorgeous Steve?" Eddie asks as you take another hit. You chuckle modestly at your boyfriend, then watch Steve's eyes focus on you. You hand him the joint, but don't break eye contact.

A sweet smile spreads on Steve's face, holding the joint close to his mouth but not bringing it between his lips just yet. "Yeah, she's beautiful, Eddie." He agrees, nodding. He smokes.

You look back at Eddie, who's full-on smirking at you now. Eyes scanning your body hungrily. Hovering his hand casually over his mouth, he grazes his bottom lip with his thumb. You could tell he was turned on.

You got an idea just as your eyes traveled back to Steve, who was still looking at you. Not in the same way Eddie was, more like he was trying to figure something out. Like he had somehow never noticed how pretty he found you. It had always been secondary to his relationship to you. He knew you were with Eddie, so it didn't matter if he found you beautiful or horrendous. Until now.

He handed the almost-roach to Eddie, who was a master at smoking the very last bit of anything. He finished it off and pressed it firmly in the ashtray on his nightstand. For a moment, as the smoke whirled above all of you, nobody knew what to say. You were all stoned and confused and a little bit horny.

You decided to make the first move.

You unfold your legs from under you and walk on your knees towards the head of the bed. Eddie scoots over to make room for you, his eyes not leaving your face for a moment as you focus in on Steve.

You smile sweetly at him. You watch him let out a small exhale. A calmness washes over him. He suddenly remembers, Oh, right, it's Y/N. Nothing to be nervous about.

"Can I kiss you Steve?" Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Steve's jaw drops only a bit. You watch his eyes dart to your lips, then meets your eye. He nods.

Before you lean in, you look at Eddie, who's pupils have dilated more than you've ever seen. His mouth is also slightly ajar, just like Steve's.

You flick your brow up, silently making sure you have his approval. Eddie nods, bringing his hand around and caressing your shoulder.

You turn back to Steve. You both lean in, very slowly, but there's a hesitance between you. You think, Fuck it. You press your lips against his, firmly. It's a bit awkward at first, but then you open your mouth to kiss again, and suddenly you are sinking into it.

You had figured Steve was a good kisser– You can't really invent make-out spots without being a good kisser. But it still felt like a pleasant surprise.

His hands know exactly where to go. One is behind your head, pulling on your hair to the rhythm of the kiss. The other hand holding your waist. His tongue, ever so shyly, slips into your mouth. You return the favor.

Steve's lips drift to your cheeks, then to your neck. You let out a soft moan, and the small sounds ignites something in everyone. You turn your head to the left slightly, both giving Steve a better angle and you a better view of Eddie.

Your eyes traveled down Eddie's tattoo'd arm, down to his hand, where he was groping himself over his jeans. Your mouth falls agape.

Steve pulled away, hand still holding your waist. You turn back to him and place one slower, more sensual kiss. You then leaned down and held your face close to Eddie's, hovering in front, eyes darting from his eyes to his lips. "I love you." You whispered.

The hand that was on his groin reaches back up to the back of your head. "I love you so fucking much." He kisses you, and it's like you're returning to him after a long trip. You grip both sides of his face, pulling him into you.

You underestimate your own balance and when leaning into Eddie you tip your whole body to land flat on your back between both of them, with a giggle. Eddie giggles with you, and you sink into his kiss again. He's now at the perfect angle, lying sideways toward you, right hand roaming your body like a man on a mission to find something.

You feel another hand snake around your waist, and soft breath against your neck. As you kiss Eddie, Steve plants wet kisses from your ear to your collarbone, where the neckline of your shirt is.

You felt goosebumps rise on your legs and arms. You had never kissed anyone while someone else kissed your neck, and it felt so good you began to breathe hard.

Your core is aching at this point, begging to be touched. When you open your eyes from the kiss, and Eddie's head pulls back a bit, you notice Steve has gotten into almost the same position as Eddie, just on the other side of you. He's still kissing your neck.

"Too many," You pant, your eyes fluttering shut.

"What, baby?" Eddie asks, an amused smile on his face. He lovedseeing you so turned on you couldn't function properly. And no one had even touched your pussy yet.

You huffed as Steve went to town on where your neck meets your shoulder, leaving a dark spot when his lips released the skin. "Too many clothes." You finally managed to get out.

Steve and Eddie chuckle in sync. Steve lifts his head, looks at your shirt, then looks at Eddie. "Do you want to do the honors?"

"Hey, I get to do this, like, everyday. Go right ahead my friend." Eddie jokes.

Steve's brows furrow for a moment, then he looks at you. "Jesus christ, every day?" He asks you.

You, completely blissed out, shrugs. "More or less."

"You guys are like bunnies, seriously. Okay, here, sit up." Steve slides his hand under your back and pushes you upward. Gripping your top and lifting it over your head in the process. Steve's eyes are glued to your tits as he tosses the shirt to the other side of the room.

You watch him watch you as you take your bralette off. Then you look at Eddie, who has the same dumbstruck look on his face every time you take your bra off in front of him.

"Well I'm not going to be the only one with my tits out." You reach for Eddie's Hellfire shirt and pull it off him, exposing his toned chest. Steve takes his shirt off quickly and efficiently. You glance down at the hair thats grown over his pecs, and can't help but bite your lip.

"God I'm the luckiest girl alive, aren't I?" You ask nobody in particular.

Eddie smiles widely, placing a sweet kiss on your cheek before all three of you lie back down.

"Can I?" Steve lies down in closer, his hand waiting patiently for approval a foot away from your boob.

You smile, then nod. His hand reaches up and slowly massages your left one. His head leans down and places a soft lick on the nipple. You puff out an exhale, your head falling back.

As Steve sucks on your nipple, his hand pinches and brushes the other. You remember your boyfriend's hard cock and reach for it, gripping him through his pants. Eddie lets out a soft groan, sending fireworks to your slit. You feel your wetness soak into your panties.

Your legs tighten against each other. "Somebody touch me, please." You whine.

Steve looks up at you excitedly, then at Eddie who had that same amused smile on his face. He begins to unbutton your jeans. "She likes it when you rub her clit really slow at first." He pulls down the pants zipper.

He then reaches for Steve's hand, that was still resting on your boob. Steve is confused, until Eddie brings the hand down to where your panties peak out of your pants. Eddie lifts the fabric and guides Steve hand into your folds.

You're watching in total awe, until your feel firm fingers circle your clit. Both boys turn their attention to you, their hands lap in your underwear together, as you let out your first real moan. It's high and needy and raises in tone at the very end like a question. Your eyes flutter shut.

"Slower," You hear Eddie instruct, and Steve follows.

Your body jerks, your head pressing hard against the pillow in pleasure. "Sh-it." You groan.

Eddie's face breaks into a smile once more, this time with a sense of pride. He loved that he knew how to pleasure you so well that he could teach it to somebody else and still drive you wild.

"Now one." Eddie gripped Steve's pointer finger and guided it downward toward your entrance. Slowly, Steve's finger glides inside you. You let out a guttural moan.

"Two." Eddie says. Steve adds a finger. You moan even louder. "Fucking shit," You say under your breath.

"Does she always swear this much?" Steve mumbles to Eddie, chuckling.

Eddie grins, "Pretty much, yeah."

“Shut up," You whine between breaths. Eddie is pumping Steve's fingers into you. Then Eddie's hand lets go of Steve's and returns to your clit, circling around it at the same slow pace as before.

"Oh god, Eddie, fuck," Your back arches. "This feels so fucking good."

Eddie, never losing tempo with Steve, kisses your neck, paying extra attention to the sensitive spots he can see Steve already covered. You couldn't stop moaning, your hips now grinding against both of their hands. Eddie's head rises, his lips a centimeter away from your's. "Are you ready baby?" Eddie asks, and you know exactly what he's talking about. You nod furiously.

Eddie looks at Steve, and with his free hand, holds up three fingers. Steve takes his hand out of you and looks at your eyes.

You smile at your best friend and kiss him on the lips, placing a hand on his cheek. "I need you, Steve, please,"

Steve smiled, and obliged. Slowly at first, he slides three fingers into you. You gasp, gripping onto Eddie's shoulder. Eddie has to hold back a laugh, he just loves seeing you like this.

Steve pauses, waiting for you to exhale, before moving his hand again. He curves his fingers upward, touching the roof of your pussy and brushing your g-spot just how you like it.

"Yeah, just like that," You whine. Steve leans down and once again paints your neck with wet kisses. The only sound in the room is the quenching of your soaking wet pussy around Eddie and Steve's respective hands, and your feral moans as you feel your climax growing closer.

Eddie's clit rotations grow faster, and Steve matches his pace. Eddie's lips press into yours, your kisses sloppy from lack of focus. Suddenly, another wave a pleasure washes over you. Your mouth falls open, lips still touching Eddie's but unable to kiss.

Your eyes squeeze shut, and Eddie's goes even faster. You hear Steve groan against your ear, and his hot breath hits your neck, and suddenly you're seeing stars. Your moans are drawn out and lazy and loud, and your body goes stiff with pleasure. "Fuck me, I'm cumming."

Eddie's smile grows wide, and he slows down. Steve follows his lead, waiting a beat than pulling his fingers out of your pussy. You sigh, blissed out.

"The three of us should smoke together more often." Steve jokes, lying back next to you. Eddie does the same. The three of you stare at the ceiling.

You hum, then sit up. "Okay, your guys' turn."

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddue munson fluff #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #eddie munson x you #stranger things one shot #stranger things smut #x reader

[munsoninthedark86]

Burnin’ For You(Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)

warnings: smuttiness, rough sex, Eddie being a little dom, unprotected sex, creampie finish, mentions of smoking weed.

word count: 1.3k

pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

It’s sweltering hot outside. As a matter of fact, it’s even hotter inside. You can feel your brain practically melting, or maybe that was the weed. Or it might be a combination of the weed and the Black Sabbath album playing in the background. You’re lying on Eddie’s bed, a fan is blowing in your general direction. Eddie sits on the edge of the bed, playing his guitar along to the album. He mutters a few song lyrics here and there, but he’s mostly just trying to cool off. You’re both unsure of what to do at this point. The sun is just starting to set and you could make your way to somewhere cooler, but you’re both too stoned to even drive anywhere.

“Hey, whatcha thinking about?” Eddie asks as he turns to look at you. You raise your head slightly from the cozy pillow.

“Not thinking. Too hot to think,” you whine softly, and Eddie smirks.

He removes the guitar strap and he brings his precious guitar to its faithful resting spot. You wouldn’t even dare touch the thing. You know that guitar means everything to Eddie.

When he looks back at you, his eyes widen. You look so damn beautiful on his bed like this. You’re just in a t-shirt and some panties. Not that he’s never seen you like this, but it’s always such a pleasant surprise for him. You wink playfully before sitting up, and he watches as you stretch.

“I’ve got an idea of what we can do,” you purr softly. Eddie sits down on the bed again, and he can sense that sexual tension building in the air.

“Oh? And here I thought it was too hot to think,” Eddie teases. One of his hands soothes up your ankle to your thigh.

“Well, it might be a little too hot for this then,” you say as you bite your lip. He chuckles ever so softly before leaning in to kiss you.

You feel those fucking rings on your hot body, and it makes your heart race like nothing else. Eddie was the only one to make you feel this way. He only had to touch you, and you felt like you were jolted alive by a livewire. You let out the most pitiful moan when he begins playing with your pussy through your panties.

“This wet already? Baby, why didn’t you say something?” He muses as he continues to rub your swollen clit through those cotton panties that are just stuck to your wet lips.

“Didn’t wanna bother you, Eddie. You were so concentrated,”

Once again, he kisses you. This time, he’s pushing you back against the mattress and he’s unbuckling his belt. It’s a process to get himself undressed as he continues to kiss you. You taste so good. Like that cherry chapstick you always wear and the faintest trace of weed. He doesn’t even remember what kind of strain the two of you were smoking. He just remembers how it made you so good and high that you took off your clothes.

But now, he’s going to peel off those soaked panties. And when he does, he shoves them into his pocket. He wants to keep those so badly. The nights that you aren’t here, those panties will definitely come in handy.

“You can always bother me for this, princess. You know I won’t let you down,”

The next kiss is frantic and hungry. His tongue slips into your mouth, and his hand hurries to push his pants down past his ass. It’s all he needs to be able to slide into you with ease. He loves that he can just fuck you like this. Just quick and easy, ready to pound you into the mattress until you’re crying that you can’t take it anymore.

He reaches between the both of you to guide his thick cock to your folds. You’re so fucking wet, and just for him. Only for him. You’ve never been wet for anyone else. Not in the way you’re wet for Eddie. He smirks when he feels you quivering, and he doesn’t hesitate any longer to push the head of his cock into your tight hole.

“Jesus christ,” Eddie grunts. “How the fuck are you this damn tight every time?” His eyes roll back in his head as he bottoms out. It’s so fucking warm and tight. How is he supposed to last?

You let out a soft giggle, and Eddie swears he’s died and gone to heaven. You’re perfect. Everything about you really excites him. He’s always had a thing for you, but it has become even more apparent in the last year. You feel him twitching deep inside of you, and you let your hands soothe down his back.

“How am I supposed to fucking last in your tight cunt, baby? Fucking temptress.” Eddie grunts as he tries to thrust into you, but your walls squeeze him too good.

“I thought you’ve been practicing.” You ask, and he blushes.

“With my fucking hand? Baby, it’s really not the same at all. You make me wanna blow my load so fucking quick.”

Your hands cup his ass and you pull him even deeper. You don’t care that he cums quickly, because Eddie has a short refractory period. He can get so hard so quickly. Even after he paints your insides white with his hot cum. When your nails dig into the meat of his ass cheeks, he knows he needs to fuck you so good.

“You think you’re in charge, baby? Just because you’ve got the tightest cunt I’ve ever had, it doesn’t mean you get to call the shots.” He warns, his tone a little more gruff now. You let out another giggle, and he thrusts into you even deeper.

Your mouth falls open, surprised at his brutal move. His eyes are alight with the lust and love for you. His hips begin snapping at this new pace. Fast and desperate, and he can’t help the whines that fall from his lips. If he’s going to cum quick, he’d rather have done it while fucking you so hard.

His rings feel so good on your body again, and then your wrists are pinned to the mattress. You whine at the lack of being able to touch him, but he shushes you with a kiss. Sloppy and wet, and a string of saliva connects the two of you when Eddie pulls away.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” Eddie cries out, his balls getting so tight. He’s so fucking close, but he’s tempted to make you cum.

His hand trails down your abdomen once more, pulling on your perked nipples and then his thumb comes to bully your aching clit. The sounds of your wet skin slapping together fills the room, and it’s almost louder than the metal album you have playing presently.

“Eddie,” you whine. You feel yourself getting so close to the edge. “Please, baby. Lemme cum,”

“That’s what I like to hear, princess.” He doesn’t stop his pace.

A few more swipes of his thumb on your clit, and you feel that coil in your stomach snap. Your vision cuts to static as Eddie pounds into you through every single wave of white hot pleasure. You cry out his name, one hand coming to tangle into his messy mane of hair.

“Can’t hold on any longer, princess.” Eddie groans. He lets go of both your wrists and you pull him into you even deeper.

His hips snap into you a little more sloppy until you feel that familiar warmth filling you up. He grunts with every single shot of his cum, and you moan along with him. It feels so good to be filled with his cum. You’re so damn happy you decided to get on birth control. Even if it was only just for Eddie to feel as good as you do.

He’s panting as he comes down from his high. Everything is so sticky and warm inside of you. He loves that he can finish inside of you. It’s such a messy treat for him.

“Damn,” you breathe out. “It’s hotter here than it was in the first place.”

“You were right, it’s too hot to think.” Eddie mumbles, and he begins rutting into you once more. Maybe one more round couldn’t hurt…could it?

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