#berrywrites

leehan was equally as shy, but double as needy. the movie had long faded into his peripheral attention, and all of his senses were enthralled by you. the way your profile looked under the dim light of the tv, how soft your voice was when you’d explain your favourite parts of the movie, the sweet, intoxicating scent of your caramel perfume—it was all driving him insane, and he knew he just needed to suck it up and ask. you’d told him before, very patiently, that you’d wait until he was ready. but little did you know that he’d been the one waiting. and in his head, he was more than ready.

with your head resting on his shoulder and your knees pressed against his thighs, it was getting difficult to control himself. he was nervous, and shy—but his hormones had overridden his pride long ago.

tugging on the hem of your sweater to get your attention, he took advantage of how your head turned slightly to face him to lean down and press a kiss to your lips. you’d done this a few times, and leehan had developed a minor addiction to the feeling… one that resulted in him having to hide an embarrassing boner a few times.

you were surprised at the sudden kiss, but quickly melted into it. leehan attempted to prolong it, but truth be told, he had no idea what he was doing—you were usually the one to guide him. and noticing his hesitance, you did exactly that. holding the bottom of his chin gently, you moved your lips against his in a way that made it easier for him to follow along. you pulled away after a moment, and for the first time that night, you let yourself look at him—really look at him. and you knew you couldn’t dismiss his parted lips, flushed cheeks or dilated pupils for anything else.

“hannie,” you murmured, tilting your head slightly as your eyes flickered over his face. “do you want more?”

you’d never seen someone nod so quickly, a stuttered “yes” leaving his mouth before you’d even finished the question. chewing on your lip, you paused the movie before pulling him in for another kiss, this one doubly as bruising.

the kiss quickly turned into a messy makeout session, with you guiding leehan through it and leehan… well, he’d gotten hard embarrassingly quickly. he couldn’t help it—the feeling of your tongue in his mouth and your weight in his lap was too much to bear, and every second of it felt like heaven. when you pulled him down on top of you on the couch, he could honestly say he had no idea what he was doing, but him and his cock were enjoying it a little too much.

when you finally pulled away, leehan had never looked more wrecked in his life, and you’d only just started—saliva was dripping down his chin, his lips were red and plump from the kissing and his hands had a vice grip on the cushions next to your head. you’d waited for this moment for too long, and the bed felt too far away—the couch would do fine.

“you sure you wanna keep going?” you asked as you sat up slightly, tone contrastingly gentle compared to the activities which had taken place beforehand.

“please…” he murmured breathlessly in return, and you couldn’t control yourself much longer. you helped him take off his shirt and pants before getting naked yourself, feeling your ego inflate from the way his eyes widened at the sight of your body, and his hands twitched at his sides with the desire to touch but unsure of where. with your clothes now on the floor, you guided his hands up to your breasts, letting him feel wherever he wanted. leehan could swear his cock grew ten sizes from the feeling of your soft flesh in his hands. he’d imagined this, sure, but the reality was so much better.

there wasn’t much more foreplay to do—the both of you were turned on enough; you from having waited so long for this moment, and him from all the new sensations. you slipped on a condom for him, the heat in your core growing from his little moan and how his hands gripped your hips tighter. you guided him to your entrance, helping him shift his body so he was lined up.

“just push it in, baby,” you murmured your instructions, a small smile tugging at your lips at how he took a small breath as if to steel himself. he’d never looked so cute and hot at the same time. slowly, he pushed in, letting out a whimper at the incredibly new feeling of your tight, warm walls surrounding him. jesus—he swore he could die happy with his cock buried in your heat.

“good,” you praised breathlessly, hands trailing up and down his sides gently. the way his face scrunched up had your heart swelling with endearment. “when you’re ready, you can move.”

leehan opened his eyes slightly, eyes flickering down to where he was inside of you. he was honestly about to cum, but he didn’t want to say it aloud. with a hesitant look, he pulled out just enough to have you both feeling empty, before pushing back in. he let out an embarrassingly loud moan, his hand slapping up over his mouth as soon as he was back inside of you.

“let me hear you,” you laughed softly, reaching up to remove his hand as you observed his red cheeks. “you sound so pretty, hannie.”

your words made the heat grow inside him, and hesitantly, he started to move again, this time getting it more consistently. the sounds of your praise and breathy moans urged him on, the way you’d guide his hands to different parts of your body through the process had him ready to release after 2 minutes. and leehan wasn’t good at holding on.

“y-y/n,” he whimpered, rutting into you like a dog in heat. “c-can’t—”

“it’s okay, baby,” you breathed between pants, hands gripping his biceps as your back hit the couch periodically. truth be told, you were close too, and his inexperience and willingness only turned you on further. “let go for me.”

your words pushed him over the edge, and dropping his head into the crook of your neck, leehan moaned against your skin, the feeling of your walls clenching around him having him seeing stars. you came soon after, gently urging him to keep moving despite his obvious overstimulation. he slowed down soon enough under your guidance, before collapsing on top of you with a shaky whimper. the feeling of your hands gently tracing up and down his bare back grounded him a little, making him feel safe in your arms.

“Come here” he said suddenly, voice low. “It’s easier if you show me from here.”

“From where?”

He looked at me like I was slow. Then patted his thigh.

“In my lap.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He gave a casual shrug. “Unless you want me to stab myself with this thing.”

I snorted. “Crochet hooks aren’t sharp, Az.”

“Still might manage it.”

Shaking my head, I stood and climbed carefully into his lap. His hands settled naturally at my hips, helping me balance. His body was all hard muscle and heat—like sitting on a furnace made of shadows. I leaned back against his chest, letting him wrap one arm around me while the other held the hook.

“Comfy?” he asked, his voice right in my ear.

“Very.”

“Good. Because I plan to hold you hostage until I finish this row.”

I laughed again and reached for his hand, guiding it carefully with mine. His fingers were warm, rough with scars and years of training, but they moved with surprising gentleness when I showed him where to pull, how to loop, how to keep the yarn from getting too tight.

“Like this,” I said, shifting slightly to get a better angle. “Pull the hook through… then yarn over… yep, like that.”

Azriel hummed low in his throat. “I think I’m starting to get it.”

“You’re doing great,” I said softly, twisting my head just enough to catch his eye.

His hazel eyes met mine, golden-brown and steady. “You’re a good teacher” he said, quiet and honest. “But it might just be that I like having you in my lap.”

I rolled my eyes trying not to smile but before I could respond the peace shattered with a bang as the door swung open to the living room.

Cassian’s voice rang out. “What in the name of the Cauldron—?”

Cassian stood there, staring at us. Shirtless, of course, his chest and arms still sweaty from training.

He came to a halt, mouth parting slightly as he took in the image of the feared Shadowsinger… hunched over a growing patch of crocheted yarn, my hand steadying his wrist.

I could see it building behind Cassian’s hazel eyes—wicked amusement mixing with something softer beneath.

“Oh no,” he said at last, a grin slowly stretching across his face. “Has the Spymaster been domesticated?”

Azriel didn’t look up too focussed on his work “If I had a dagger right now…”

“You’d crochet me to death?” Cassian shot back, flopping dramatically into the chair across from us. He reached down and picked up a spare ball of yarn, turning it over in his massive, calloused hands. “This is it. This is my favorite day ever.”

“It’s for his fingers,” I said, pointedly ignoring the smirk he shot me. “The scarring gives him stiffness. This helps keep the dexterity.”

Cassian’s face did something then—softened, just slightly. His gaze dropped to Azriel’s hands, and for a second, a beat of silence passed between them. An understanding. One brother to another.

Then, of course, he ruined it.

“So,” Cassian said with mock-seriousness, tossing the yarn from hand to hand. “What’s he making? Wing warmers?"

Azriel finally looked up, his expression almost bored “You know, I could just stab you.”

“I knew there’d be a threat,” Cassian said brightly. “But it loses its edge when you’re holding… that.” He pointed at the hook Azriel was attempting to loop through the hole.

Azriel didn’t even look up. “You’re jealous because I can make things with my hands that don’t involve punching.”

“I am a little jealous, actually,” Cassian admitted with a mock pout, throwing the ball of yarn into the basket by my feet “Does this come in a colour that screams Commander of the Night Court?”

“It screams something,” Azriel muttered, finally looking up with a smirk. “Mostly that you talk too much.”

I laughed then, the sound escaping before I could stop it. Cassian gave me an exaggerated wink.

“Don’t encourage him,” Azriel said dryly, though his lips found the top of my head and pressed a kiss there “Next he’ll want a crochet battle.”

Cassian perked up. “Wait, is that a thing?”

“It is not a thing,” I said, exasperated.

Azriel shook his head, but even he couldn’t suppress the amusement in his expression.

Cassian’s teasing faded into a fond smile as he watched Azriel fumble another loop, my hands steadying his, voice soft and patient.

Cassian stood up and stretched, cracking his back with a grunt. “Alright, before I start crying or worse, crocheting, I’m leaving"

He was halfway out the room when I lobbed a yarn ball at his head. He caught it with a grin and vanished down the hall, still laughing.

Azriel let out a long breath and relaxed into further into the sofa taking me with him.

“He’s never going to let this go,” he murmured.

“No,” I agreed. “But he’s happy for you.”

    Molly spun around to face whoever had spoken – or, tried to. Moving without a corporeal body was odd, so his spin turned into more of a gentle drift. He felt weightless, but not in a liberating way. He felt disconnected, from himself and from his surroundings. He felt cold, except in his extremities, which was an odd reversal. At least he was fully clothed; Molly wondered if his bet with [Circus person name] was still good, because Molly just won.

    The person who had spoken was half-elven, with long black hair and pale features. They wore variations of navy and grey and black – goth enough to put Yasha to shame. The only saturated color on them was a blue feather woven into their braids. And flowing behind them was a cloak that looked more like a pair of wings than anything, but the material was so dark it hardly shinned in the dull light.

    “Again…” Molly repeated. Great, even in death his past was inescapable. Perhaps that made sense. It was in death that his past had been lost.

    The half-elf cocked their head to the side. “Lucian, right? You seem different. More… colorful.”

    Yeah, it definitely made sense for his past to catch up to him here. Now Molly just needed to figure out if it was worth it to lie to a… grim reaper of sorts. If it was smart to do so, which it probably wasn’t.

    “I’ve been wondering,” the half-elf continued, “as has the Raven Queen, how you went back last time.” They stepped closer, and Molly saw a hand drift towards sheathed daggers. “I am very familiar with clerical revivals, and whatever you did was nothing like that. However you wormed your way out of paying the price last time, you can’t escape your debt here.”

    Molly sighed. A weird sensation, when he didn’t exactly have lungs. “Wish I could answer you, friend,” he said, not wishing that at all. “But it appears the price I paid for returning last time was my memories.”

    The half elf stopped. They looked Molly up and down, as if the signs of falsehood would be apparent on his skin.

    “Mollymauk Tealeaf,” Molly offered, extending his hand, which was slightly see through. “Everyone calls me Molly. And you are?”

    “Vax’ildan,” the half elf replied. “Vax, for short.” He took Molly’s hand in a vice-like grip. “I do hope you know how unwise it would be to lie to the Champion of the Raven Queen.”

    “Please, I’m not that much of an idiot,” Molly said.

    “Really? Because the fact that you’re here a second time leads me to believe you are ‘that much’ of an idiot.”

    “I was trying…” Molly paused. What had he been trying to do? He knew how little blood he had left – he was always far too aware of his body – yet he had used his blood to hurt Lorenzo anyways. He had killed himself. For what? “I was trying to save my friends.”

    He had tried to save them. Tried, and failed. Touché, Champion.

    But Vax’s eyes immediately softened. He let go of Molly’s hand. “Your friends?”

    Molly nodded. Any sense of theatrics he had put on before were washed away, not that he had much before. Death, as it turns out, was a sobering experience. “Yes. Three of us got kidnapped, and the four of us left, we were trying to rescue them for some bastard slavers. But we were far out of our depth. What were we thinking?” he hissed. Gods, not only were they assholes, they were all idiots, too.

    A hand touched his shoulder. “Do you believe in them?” Vax said.

    Did he…? What kind of question was that? Molly believed them to be stupid, disjointed, haphazard at best and completely chaotic at worst. They had issues with money, and trust, and being trustworthy. Not to mention the unique emotional shortcomings of each and everyone one of them, Mollymauk included. He also believed that they were his new family, after the Circus fell apart, and maybe it wouldn’t be too farfetched to believe they felt the same way. Beau had her Freudian slip just the other day, and clearly something was keeping Caleb here despite his night time mutterings about leaving.

    “Yes,” Molly said, “I suppose I do believe in those assholes.”

     If Molly could talk to them again, he’d stop with the polite pretenses, stop pretending he hadn’t heard all the things he wasn’t meant to have heard. Dammit, someone needed to start these conversations before they were beyond repair.

his head falls back against the pillow as a shuddering breath leaves his lips, his eyes fluttering closed as his hands grip your hips tightly. he's sure to leave a bruise tomorrow, but you don’t mind.

you roll your hips down onto his slowly, your walls soaking up his cock as you place your hands on his chest for leverage. your thighs are already burning from the workout, but seeing leehan’s nose scrunch up and his plump lips part to let out another heavenly noise makes it all worth it.

“f-fuck, y/n…” he whimpers, eyes squeezed shut as you lift your hips up just to drop back down onto him. “please… don’t stop.”

you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, rolling your hips around again as you reach down to pry his hands from your hips, watching as he opens his eyes in confusion. you guide them up to your breasts, and his pupils dilate as he lets his hands engulf your flesh, squeezing gently at the same time as you rock your hips, eliciting simultaneous moans from the both of you.

“mm… close…” he mumbles out the word so quietly you barely hear it. you pick up the pace a little, bouncing up and down and causing his tip to graze your sensitive spot. soft pants fill the air in between the sounds of his cock sliding against your walls, and leehan’s hands tighten around your breasts as you feel his cock twitch inside of you, his release following seconds after he moans your name.

you finish soon after, slowing down to a stop before carefully lifting yourself off leehan’s body. he grunts softly from the change in pressure, dragging you down to lie against his chest as his hand traces gentle circles into the small of your back, silently thanking you for making him feel good.