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ervans · 10 months

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Care for You (Mizu x F!reader)

warnings: mentions of blood, wounds, and violence, soft sex, fingering (r! receiving)

a/n: wow. it's been a minute since i've truly sat down and wrote something. i'm absolutely obsessed with BES and mizu, i haven't felt so passionate about something since TLOU. this is my adaptation of what seems to be the most cliche scenario in this fandom so far: reader finding an injured mizu. i'm a bit rusty when it comes to writing so any and all feedback is welcome and appreciated, follows and notes as well. i have more ideas for works surrounding mizu (including a brothel fic muahahaha) so keep your eyes peeled for my posts :))

The sound of your sandals shuffling against the ground and your heavy pants were the only noises that pierced the otherwise quiet night. The moon, stars, and faint glow of your home in the distance were your only source of light as you trekked up the hill where the soft orange hue was coming from. The walk up this specific hill usually caused you no trouble, having done it dozens of times; however, this time was a tad bit different. Why? The limp, unconscious body that was currently draped over your shoulder.

Earlier in the evening you had heard a commotion down at the lake below the hill your home rested on. It was normal for stragglers, crooks, and opium addicts to travel through this part of Japan and mixing those groups of people usually ended up in some sort of fight. You had paid no mind to the noise, continuing with your cleaning. It wasn’t until you realized you needed more water for your tea that you made your way down the hill. As you reached the shore and saw the mess in front of you your stomach lurched.

Four bodies laid lifeless in front of you on the sand. From what you could tell they all had various stab and slash wounds across their bodies. Fifteen feet away from the tattered bodies lay another smaller one clad in baggy black trousers and stockings, a dark blue haori, and white scarf around his neck with a brown straw hat, round glasses with an orange tinted lens, and a sword, the telltale sign of a samurai on the ground beside him.

From where you stood you could see his chest still moving as he tried to shallowly breathe in oxygen from the air surrounding his struggling body. That brings you to where you are now, struggling up a damn hill trying to save this unknown samurai’s life. Was he responsible for the four bodies you had pushed into the lake? It didn’t matter to you; you weren’t one to judge in a world where it was kill or be killed.

You push the door to your house open and lay the injured stranger onto your mat near the fire. You start to boil water to disinfect whatever wounds he had and open a drawer to grab a needle and thread just in case stitches were needed. They very much were. You quickly realized the source of what seemed like never-ending blood on the top half of his body as you stripped the bloodstained clothing away. A gash about 4 inches long and deeper than you’d like it to be starting towards the base of his ribcage, skin around it starting to turn a yellowish color. It almost distracted you from the way the stranger was wearing chest wraps. Almost.

You frowned looking down at the shallow breathing of the samurai’s chest. Why would he need chest wraps? You thought, fingers brushing over the once white cloth now stained. Unless? You slowly started to undo the bindings, telling yourself you needed to anyways to properly clean the wound. As the cloth unraveled in your hands your small suspicion was confirmed. Two small breasts sat atop the chest of the slender samurai that laid before you, nipples hardening as they became exposed to the air. Your eyebrows raised, head tilting slightly to the side. A female samurai? How? Questions began to fill your mind as you started to clean the wound, gently washing it with the now hot water. It was unheard of for a woman to even touch a sword as it was said to make the blade impure. Where had this woman gotten her sword? Who did she get taught by? Clearly from the mess on the beach she knew her way around a fight.

You finished cleaning and stitching the larger wound and got to work on disinfecting the smaller cuts and scrapes on the upper half of her body. Once you were satisfied with your work, you began removing the woman’s trousers and stockings, revealing another deep gash running from the top of her knee down to her shin. Sighing you started the same process as her chest and prepared yourself for the unknown amount of time you would be caring for this mysterious female samurai.

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It took three days for the samurai to fully regain her consciousness. In those days you had changed the dressings on her wounds, forced broth and water down her throat for some form of sustenance, and carefully studied her whenever you found the chance to. You noticed small things others would easily miss. The way her face seemed like it was always in a permanent frown, her subtly toned muscles from what had to be from years of training, how her calloused hands would twitch in her sleep, stress being the cause of it you had concluded after watching her for a good hour whilst you sipped on your tea, and how insanely handsome she was. Wait what? Handsome? That thought scared you so much that you had refused to watch her for the remainder of the evening besides checking her wounds thoroughly before you went to bed. But you couldn’t ignore those thoughts that plagued your head as your touch lingered for more time than it should’ve.

You were sat cross-legged waiting for your tea to steep when you heard a thud from behind you. Quickly turning around to find what the source of the noise was, you were met with the samurai staring back at you, blue eyes shining in the dimly lit space. And oh, were they blue. You had never seen or known something could be as piercingly blue as the eyes that met yours.

“Who are you? Where am I?” The samurai demanded in a gravelly voice that sent a shiver up your spine. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer right away, mouth slightly agape with shock at the stranger who had, just minutes ago, been passed out. “I asked you a question, now answer it.” She said sternly after a beat of silence between the two of you.

You blinked, raising an eyebrow and rising to your feet. “Well that’s no way to talk to someone who saved your life now is it?”

The woman, stern frown never leaving her features, quickly looked around the room taking in her surroundings. She then looked down at herself, usual blue haori missing and replaced with a softer red one. You hadn’t wanted to leave her bare in the middle of your home and opted to dress her in one of yours while you worked on scrubbing the stains out of hers.

You saw her tentatively try to move, and the flash of pain the appeared on her face for just a second didn’t go unnoticed by you. She pursed her lips and looked back up at you. “Thank you for stitching me up, but I would rather not stay a hostage here any longer. I have more important places to be.”

Your eyes widen and you scoff. “Hostage? Are you fucking serious? By all means you can leave, makes my life ten times easier if you do.” You were lying, you quite enjoyed caring for the handsome samurai, but you would never admit that to her. At least not now. “Good luck walking on that knee by the way, I’m sure it won’t be any trouble for you though.”

You crossed your arms and leaned against the wall as the blue-eyed woman looked you up and down once more before attempting to get up. After a few minutes she was standing, hand against the top of the fireplace to keep her from falling over. You could see her chest rising and falling quickly from the struggle of just standing. She looked back over at you, still leaning with your arms crossed. “Where are my belongings?”

“On the table to your right.” You responded, eyes never leaving hers. You watched her glance over to the table. It was about five feet away; it should’ve been no problem for her to walk over and grab her things. Should’ve. It took her almost ten minutes to reach the edge of the table, her injured leg making it difficult to have a full range of motion. She opted to shuffle inch by inch over to the edge. By the time she got there she was out of breath, looking down at her hands placed on the wood in front of her. You hadn’t moved at all, the only change being your expression shifting from annoyance to amusement as you watched the fit samurai struggle.

After a moment she let out a shaky breath. You saw her knuckles tighten as if she was having an internal battle with herself. “Can you help me back to the mat?” She asked so quietly you almost missed it. You pushed yourself off the wall and walked over to where she stood, taking notice in the way her legs were shaking from lack of use over the past three days. She refused to look at you as you placed her arm over your shoulders and helped guide her back to the mat on the floor. “Thank you.” She muttered.

You looked at her, worry spreading across your features. “Of course. I’m here for anything you need. Consider me your personal caretaker.” You joked. “Although, a good caretaker should know her patients name.” Your words hung in the air for a moment before she responded.

“Mizu.”

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It had been three weeks since Mizu had introduced herself to you. She didn’t talk much about her personal life, which you respected, instead filling the silence between the two of you with your own stories from your childhood. In that time her leg wound had been healing considerably quick, mostly due to the bedrest you ordered her to stay on. The only time she was allowed to move her legs was when she needed to relieve herself or when you would do small stretches with her to keep her blood flow moving. After some time, she was able to get up and walk for short periods of time on her own. The only problem with her quick recovery in her leg was the fact that her chest wound had hardly any progress to it.

Since Mizu couldn’t walk for some time, she exerted all her energy to her upper half, much to your dismay. She would sit up on the mat doing stretches on her arms and shoulders, sometimes raising them so far up you were afraid a stitch was going to pop. It did.

Mizu had been practicing arm movements with her sword, stating that “If I want to achieve my goals, my skills must always be honed and sharp.” Bullshit you thought. She just wanted to aggravate you. How could you tell? The small smirk that would grace her lips whenever she went to pick up her sword, even after you told her it was dangerous, and she could hurt herself anymore. Alas, she was a stubborn woman and it’s how you ended up rushing inside from chopping wood after hearing a sharp yelp from inside your home.

She sat on her mat, one hand clutching the spot above her wound while the other reached for the needle and thread you always kept close by. Once you realized she was going to try to stitch herself back up you rushed over to snatch the needle from her hands and straddle her lap, careful of the wound on her knee. She looked startled for a moment before her whole face turned a deep shade of red once she realized the position you both were in. You had a faint blush as well as you plucked the thread from her hand as well.

“I’m not letting you stitch yourself. You’re going to make your injury worse.” You said looking down at her. She looked up at you with those damn blue eyes you could get lost in for ages, cheeks still red but an amused expression on her face.

“You don’t think I know how to stitch myself up?”

You laughed awkwardly. “Well, no. I just…you just…you just popped a stitch by doing something I told you not to do! How can I be sure you’ll do it correctly?!” Mizu laughed. A sound so beautiful you were sure it would play through your mind for months to come. “I guess you have a point. C’mon then doc, fix me up.” She smirked. You felt your face grow even hotter.

Still straddling her you pushed her robe off her shoulders revealing her chest wraps with blood from the reopened wound soaking through them. You gulped. To stitch her back up you’d have to remove her bindings. And this time she was awake. And would definitely take notice in the way your eyes would roam her chest. Sensing your hesitation, she smiled looking up at you. “What? It’s not like you haven’t seen them before, obviously you have, or I wouldn’t have stitches here.” She was teasing you, you realized. “Here I’ll make it easier for you.” Her hand reached around to begin to undo her wraps. You sat there dumbfounded as they fell to the floor and her breasts were exposed to you once again.

“You just gonna stare sweetheart or are you gonna patch me up?” Mizu’s teasing question broke you out of your trance as you swallowed thickly and got to work on restitching her wound. You felt her piercing gaze on you the entire time and did your best to try and ignore the warm feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Later that night after the excitement of the day you sat sipping on your tea while Mizu slept next to the fire. You couldn’t stop thinking about her. Those beautiful blue eyes, the way her lips turned up into a smirk whenever it seemed you were flustered, and the sound of her laugh plagued you. You hadn’t felt like this in a long time.

Suddenly Mizu woke with a gasp, shooting up from the mat. You turned to her startled as you took in her appearance. Eyes wide with fear, chest heaving up and down, and her hands gripping tightly onto her blanket. “Nightmare?” You asked softly as to not startle her even more than she was. She just nodded as she looked at you, eyes bright in the darkness.

You softly rose to your feet, padded over to where was sat up, and sat down next to her. Her eyes had never left your figure as you made your way to her. You looked down at the blanket, then back up to her asking a silent question.

Slowly she lifted the blanket up and laid back down, giving you room to scoot in next to her. You wrapped your arms around her and brought her closer to your chest in the most intimate position the both of you had ever been in. You had never slept as well as you did that night.

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It had been four days since Mizu’s nightmare, and every night since then you two had slept together, arms wrapped around each other. The dynamic between you had changed drastically, lingering touches and glances to each other becoming a new normal.

Tonight was no different to the past few. You lay facing Mizu while her back was turned to the fire, tracing circles into her rough and calloused hands. The silence was comfortable, but you chose to break it in that moment.

“When do you think you’ll leave?” A flash of hurt ran across Mizu’s face.

“I can leave whenever you want me to, I think I’m healed enough by now. Would you like me to leave tomorrow?” Your heart clenched at the sadness in her voice. You didn’t want that at all.

“No,” you whispered. “I don’t want you to leave me. Ever.” Her eyes softened, moving closer to you she brushed her nose against yours.

“Then I won’t.”

Your lips met her soft ones in a searing kiss, one that knocked the air right out of your lungs. You let out at soft noise as she titled her head, running her tongue across your bottom lip to deepen the kiss and ask for permission to enter. You parted your mouth for her, tongues running against each other as she rolled on top of you, straddling your hips. Her fingers ran down your sides and under your top, tips of them brushing the underside of your breasts as you pushed your chest up into her, silently asking for more.

She pulled away from the kiss, a trail of spit the only thing keeping you connected, and smiled. “I’m going to need you to tell me you want more. Tell me you want it and I’ll stay.”

You moaned at her words. “Yes! Mizu please I want it, I need you.” She leaned down to kiss you once those words left your lips, fingers moving up to circle and pinch your hardened nipples. You let out a gasp into Mizu’s mouth at the sensation and she smiled into you, moving her head to trail kisses down your face to your neck, sucking a purple mark just below your ear.

You raised your arms over your head as she stripped you of your top, eyes lingering on your now bare breasts. “Beautiful.” Was all she said. You let out a whimper at her words. She kissed down your shoulders to your breasts and licked a long stripe up your nipple, the sensation causing you to moan and buck your hips up into hers. As she continued her assault on your breasts, her hand traveled lower down your stomach and slipped her hand into your trousers to run a finger through your slick folds.

You were a moaning, withering mess below her at this point. Between her mouth on your tits and her finger slowly brushing against your clit, you weren’t sure how much more you could take. “Please Mizu. I need you, please.” You begged, grinding your hips up into her hand hoping she got the message. She did. Slowly she pushed her middle finger into your wet heat, savoring the noise that left your lips as she did. Experimentally she curled her finger, finding that spongy spot at the front of your walls.

It wasn’t enough for you. “More, I need more.” You whimpered. Smiling against your breast, she pushed another finger in, thrusting at a quicker pace. You were close, she could tell by the way your pussy clenched around her digits. You just needed one last thing to push you over the edge. Removing her mouth from your nipple, she brought her forehead against yours admiring the way your mouth was slightly agape and the furrow between your brows.

“Open your eyes. You’re to look at me when you cum.”

At her words and her thumb suddenly circling your clit matching the pace at which she thrust, your eyes shot open meeting her icy blue ones, the last thread keeping you from falling snapping.

“‘m gonna cum Mizu, fuck m’ gonna fuckfuck-“ You were sent over the edge, cunt clenching and gushing around her fingers while your back arched off the mat, eyes never leaving hers as she guided and talked you through it.

As you caught your breath, chest heaving, she peppered soft kisses all over your face causing you to giggle breathlessly. She smiled down at you as you looked up at her still panting. “Give me a second, let me return the favor.” She leaned down capturing your lips once again as she removed her fingers from your core, wiping the slick on her pants and rolling to lay next to you. She pulled you into her chest and nuzzled her nose into your hair.

“You’ve taken care of me these last few weeks, let me take care of you. We have all the time in the world, I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

And Mizu always kept her promises.

#blue eye samurai x reader #mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai #bes #blue eye samurai netflix #blue eye samurai mizu #mizu smut

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moonbeamsandmayhem · 6 months

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Idea for smutty request: virgin Eddie who has never even eaten a girl out so he asks if he can practice by eating reader’s pussy…. Ofc reader says yes cos she’s had a crush on Eddie for forever

a/n: I’ve been working on this for months. So for that, I apologize!

warnings: reader with titties, cunningulus, mentions of a shitty ex-partner. I think that’s it. Please let me know if I missed anything.

“You sure?”

“Ed—.”

He held up his hands in defeat, licking his lips anxiously. “I just wanna — I don’t wanna fuck this,” and he gestures between the two of you, “Up. Our friendship. You know?”

“I know.”

Eddie stares at you, deep brown boring into you as if looking for a flicker of doubt. There was none. Your friendship with him meant the world, and when he approached you with his request, well. You could never deny him anything. Your heart stammered and you could feel your cheeks heat, but you agreed.

His room had always been a safe space. The smell of old spice, burning wood, and Marlboro’s infiltrated your lungs, causing the tension in your body to uncoil. Ever the gentleman, Eddie made sure to clean up for you, have bottled water on the bedside table and extra pillows at the ready.

You started to shimmy out of your shorts, but Eddie’s hands replaced yours, fingers caressing every bit of skin as it’s revealed. “You’re so fucking pretty,” his tone is awe-struck as if he’s seeing you for the first time. Thighs squeeze together and he takes note, a sly little smile curling his lips. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“Nothing.”

He lifts a brow.

“Promise. Just never been referred to as ‘pretty’ before.”

The metal head blinks at you slowly as if he can’t process what you’re saying. “Not even Chad or whatever-the-fuck that dick ex’s name is?”

You shake your head.

“Asshole.” Eddie declares, strong hands finding yours, fingers threading together. “If you were mine… I’d tell you every damn day. You’re gorgeous. Not that you need my or anyone else’s validation.” His eyes soften, “Thank you for this.” It’s the first time you see a hint of vulnerability cross his features cutting through all the bravado. It makes your chest squeeze with affection.

He wastes no time, peeling away your underwear. You resist the urge to slam your legs together, shyness taking over. “No hiding,” as if he can read your thoughts, his eyes are the softest brown, pools of warmth you could get lost in.

Eddie kisses along your thighs, nipping gently, experimentally. Your breath hitches and he chuckles, hot breath fanning over you. A whine emits from the very back of your throat. “Sensitive little thing, ain’t ya?” He licks his lips before he leans forward, kissing directly onto your seam, head buried between your legs. He nestles his nose against the thatch of curls there, breathing in your scent.

Eddie’s breath is warm, the flat of his tongue dares to spread you apart for him, flicking upward toward your clit. He’s slow, calculated, watching your expressions for some guidance.

“Jesus Christ,” you moan, he takes a part of your labia into his mouth and sucks softly, humming around you , “you’re - you’re sure you’ve never done this b-before?”

You can feel him smile against your cunt, before his tongue dips, finding your entrance. You gasp, hands grabbing those wild locks of his, tugging sharply. He groans, deep and reverberating, the muscle curling inside of you, working in and out, searching for that spot. You grind your hips down, desperate for more friction. “God, Eddie - fuck -!” It doesn’t take much before you’re arching off the bed.

“Mmmhm.” He’s drinking you down, lapping and slurping at everything you have to offer. A calloused thumb finds your neglected clit, circling it in tandem with the actions of his mouth. Your own hangs open, spewing expletives, moans, praises, gibberish and Eddie revels in it.

The coil in your stomach snaps sooner than you’d like and you’re cumming, clenching around his tongue while white hot pleasure burns through you. He continues, working you through your climax until you’re pulling him off, tears streaming down your face. You both lock gazes, his cheeks are rosy, lips covered in your spend, eyes heavy with lust. As for you, your face is covered in a light sheen of sweat, your body flush.

Eddie makes his way up to you, caging you in between his arms, hair falling in curtains to frame his face. He reaches up to wipe away a stray tear.

It’s just the two of you against the world, all panting breathes and longing gazes.

He looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. For a second you feel a pang of fear that maybe he was having second thoughts. That this whole thing was a mistake and you should just forget it.

“Can I kiss you?” He finally asks.

You blink owlishly.

“Or - or we can not do that - that was a stupid suggestion, forget I said any- .”

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“Thank fuck.”

#dd writes #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson/you

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theeveninghour · 6 months

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All My Dreaming

Summary: You came to the Night Court as a fugitive and quickly became a valued member of the Inner Circle. Azriel’s love for you has burned brightly in his chest for nearly two centuries now, but when an unknown force threatens to take you from him, he must fight to keep you at his side.

Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader

A/N: I don’t use Y/N here just out of personal preference, but the IC do call reader “Little One” because she’s younger than them by like a century or so. Also, slight timeline deviation? I kind of just made the ACOTAR timeline work for me a little bit but the important bits are there mostly. If it’s not totally accurate, please suspend your disbelief and go with it. I also took some serious liberties with Prythian geography and Azriel’s shadows in this. I had to force myself to stop because I could’ve written five more scenes, so let me know if you all want a part two. I got nasty Azriel thots to spare, baby!

WC: 16.1k ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW: 18+, Minors DNI, violence, death, descriptive gore, lots of time jumps, torture, smut, p in v, fingering, porn with plot, mating, slow burn, angst, friends to lovers, declarations of love, loving sexy times, miscommunications abound, Azriel being a big ole softie, Azriel being a big ole bitch to bad men, Azriel really going tf thru it emotionally, and Azriel being mouthy as fuck. Just girly things.

Part 2

Azriel hadn’t seen you in four days. Nearly a week had passed since you’d left. Rhys mentioned a mission but no additional details, Cassian avoided the topic, knowing how frustrated his brother got when you were gone, and Feyre was decidedly unhelpful the few times he’d brought you up. His shadows searched aimlessly, they’d found nothing as far south as Winter Court, daring not venture into Autumn, and knowing damn well you’d never step foot into Spring. You were slowly driving him mad; the bond in his chest aching at the loss. Even if you hadn’t recognized the golden thread linking the two of you, he felt it.

Gods, did he feel it. He’d often lay in his bed at night, eyes tracing the intricate foil patterns of the ceiling tiles. When sleep evaded him, as it frequently did, he’d grasp the thread tightly in his minds eye and tug it experimentally, begging you to see, to notice it was him that loved you with a ferocity that rivaled the sun. Try as he might, the responding tug never answered, his call into the void not returning an echo.

The second it snapped for him, Azriel had resolved himself as unworthy, not of someone like you. You were powerful, breathtakingly beautiful, intimidatingly intelligent, and you regularly brought men to their knees, both in political circles and on the battlefield. Rhys relied on you as much he did Cassian and Az, you were a core member of his court, a valuable asset, and the love of Azriel’s life. Azriel avoided the latter subject entirely, choosing instead to silently stoke the ember in chest with unyielding affection; his own private paramour.

When you’d joined the Night Court, you’d been on the run from both Winter and Autumn Courts. Your father was a high fae noble in Winter that had attempted to arrange a marriage to the second youngest Vanserra of Autumn. The family’s brutal reputation was legend and you were terrified. You were young then, barely a century old, and upon your introductory visit to the Autumn Court, Beron sought to make an impression by presenting a welcome gift. That gift? The public torture and execution of a servant he’d deemed traitorous.

His gleaming eyes remained on yours with each cast of the fire whip he’d conjured using his cruel magic. He’d cracked it again and again until blood splattered and the servant was left flayed beyond recognition, flesh searing, and finger tips twitching from the remaining neurons firing in his brain. Only after his death did Beron announce his crimes. He’d stolen a parcel of food from the royal pantry to feed his wife and small child. Your stomach churned at the thought of the now widow and fatherless child waiting at home for the male that would never return.

It had all been a test to see if you were worthy of the most violent and petulant of the broody sons, and you’d passed, holding Beron’s stare and keeping your back straight as you faced his wrath head on. You’d cried yourself dry in your room that night though, sobs wracking your form until your chest ached, grief for the male that was lost. Fear settled into your heart, terror of the family you were set to marry into.

You’d ran at first light, leaving with nothing but the clothes on your back. Your Winter white blonde hair streaking across the red and orange forest as you bolted. Beron sent his dogs after you. You still had the scars lining your calves from where they’d gotten too close, brought you down into the dirt, jaws snapping and tearing at the muscly sinew there. But you’d fought. You’d kicked and clawed like a feral child of the woods, screaming with a sense of self preservation you’d never known you possessed.

Rhysand had found you half dead, starving and a little savage in the mountainous border between the Day and Night Courts. He’d made a bargain with you then; he’d save you, if you worked for him. Word had already spread of the ousted Winter female and spurned Autumn princeling and Rhysand was impressed you’d lasted in the wilds undetected for so long. The small star flecked tattoo of the Velarian night sky that lived on your wrist since was the only evidence of his deal.

You’d long moved past such a bargain. Rhys had offered to lift it half a dozen times in your first hundred years within his court, but you hadn’t minded. A reminder, you’d insisted, a mark of your loyalty to the family that didn’t lead you the wolves with such glee.

You’d settled into a routine in Velaris, training with the Illyrian brothers and charming Amren with your intelligence and wit. But you’d become the closest with Mor, who felt a kinship in your shared traumas. She’d soothed you in those first years, fiercely protecting her friend when Eris Vanserra had shown up in Hewn City as an emissary to inquire on your new position in the Night Court. It was that same night that Azriel realized how fucked he truly was.

Eris smirked at you and your back straightened, face growing cold. He spoke, “My brother was wondering where you’d scampered off to.” A laugh followed, “You couldn’t stomach our court, but found yourself bound to the Court of Nightmares? My my, what a wicked turn of events.”

Rhysand had spoken then, wearing his High Lord mask well, “Watch yourself, Eris. You know not what our Little One can do.” Eris laughed, the sound laced with the dark spark of a threat. “Little One? Fugitive and Night Court whore, I must tell your father. I’m sure he’ll be proud to hear of his daughter’s fate.” Azriel’s wings pricked, then fluttered, he would’ve killed Eris right then for you. Your hand came to rest on Rhys’ arm as you stepped around the throne to level your accuser with a look that should’ve turned him to stone.

“I am no male’s whore and I belong to no court except Night. Report what you wish to my father, to your father, your brother. May you all rot.” You’d spat at his feet then, and the room heated twenty degrees, Eris’ barely kept rage simmering under the surface, fire blooming on the fringes of his figure.

He stepped forward and Cassian, Azriel, and Mor all shifted, prepared to take out the threat. Eris’ eyes tracked their figures, gauging the situation. He knew better. Any attack here would mean war on his court and his father have his hide for that. You stepped forward to meet him, knowing he could make no move without endangering his position. You kept your spine straight and narrowed your gaze at him with such contempt he would’ve been impressed at the show had you been anyone else.

“I will say this once Eris Vanserra,” you held up one long manicured finger, and Azriel traced the action with thinly veiled obsession. “Leave my court or I will be the one to kill you. I’ll rip your spine from your body and I’ll do it with the same glee in which your father,” you’d spat that word, the hatred you held for Beron burning your throat as the words exited your mouth, “killed that male for feeding his family.” You took a step closer, summoning a dagger in your left hand, and rolling it your palm. “Trust that we have no tolerance for your family or your bullshit in these lands.”

Eris had good enough sense to step back then, peering around your form to where Rhysand sat, legs spread, slouched in the throne, smirking at your display of dominance. Azriel to his right looked on in pure male satisfaction, you were a powerful little thing and he was rather fond of you in that moment. Eris spoke up, “Should I note that the Night Court threatens other Courts for sport?” Cassian and Azriel rolled their eyes in synchronous fashion, but it was Mor that spoke with the dark edge of a threat, “Only ones that deserve such brutality.” Her father, Kier, stood in the gathered crowd and sneered at the tone of her voice.

You’d done the unthinkable then, winnowing behind Eris, grasping the male by his red hair and dragging the dagger to his neck, digging in enough to cause the male’s heart to speed, a line of scarlet leaking from the press of your blade. You could feel the heat in his skin, the flame licked at your hand as you released him with a shove.

You brandished your dagger as if it was an extension of your hand, the tip of the silver blade glinting with red from the now healing cut at Eris’ throat. “Come for me again and I’ll kill you.” It was then that Azriel noted the slight tremble in the hand at your right side and he wished on some distant star that he could reach out to you, soothe you, tell you that he was proud and you defended yourself and your court beautifully.

As if his wish was granted, he felt his chest give way to a canyon of emotion, heart stuttering as the bond fluttered and snapped, thrumming with affection for the female standing at the center of the room. He had selfishly allowed himself to hope it would be you, in the dark of the night when he was alone and his shadows whispered to him of your whereabouts. Since he’d met you, he fostered that small romantic notion of soulmates. His most private desire.

Eris whirled on you with a roar, grabbing your throat with hands of fire. Azriel felt the breath leave him, and he took two then three steps forward before he could think, hazel eyes alight with a fierceness you’d not yet witnessed. Your eyes found his and you held up your hand to halt his movements, the one that had trembled seconds earlier, now steady as a stone. You’d looked at Eris then, raising your chin defiantly, a slow smile overtaking your face as you once again spit at the Autumn male before winnowing back to your place in front of the dais. Rhysand raised to his feet then, taking steps down to meet you. His hand grazed your arm this time and his mind reached out, “Very good, Little One, very good.”

“As the lady said, Eris, come to my court in search of her again, and she’ll be the one to kill you.” Rhys circled Eris, tracking like prey. “But not before I sanction it for laying your hands on a member of my house.” Rhysand spoke with such quiet cunning, it was no wonder he excelled as High Lord. Eris snarled then before winnowing out of the Hewn City and Azriel quickly set his shadows to following him, ensuring he was actually gone.

You returned to Mor’s side and the shameless pride that set on your face the rest of the night made Azriel want to kiss you. Gods, he was fucked..

You’d flirted with him constantly in the first century you’d been in Velaris. You had laid it on thick too, dragging a long nail up his arm, your mouth sliding into a smirk after one too many drinks at Rita’s. Azriel had always feigned friendly indifference though, a mask he slipped on that was equal parts protection as it was self soothing. His only crack coming in the form of a slight tremble in his pinky as he tried to gather himself to avoid closing the space between you, touching, grasping, feeling.

He’d worn black leather gloves around you in your first few decades with them. His hands always held the most insecurity for him, the silver scars and warped skin a brutal reminder of his childhood. It was after training one day, as you all packed your small bags and threw towels into bins that you’d asked about it.

“I don’t mean to pry, and feel free to tell me to fuck off, but why the gloves?” You asked quietly leaning against a wall less than ten feet from him. He’d stiffened and breathed tightly, “it helps with the work.” That had always been his excuse, wearing gloves when killing helped reduce the touch memories associated with the act, and it was partially true. But he wasn’t on a mission right now, and you called him on that, “are you spying right now?” Your lips quirked, “should I tell Rhys?” Your words were mirthful, but your eyes held nothing but empathy for the Shadowsinger, sometimes Azriel wondered if that was your Cauldron blessed gift.

You’d reached down then, rolling up the left leg of your training leathers. You’d resumed your full height and rotated your calf outward for his eyes to survey the damage there. Ragged silver keloid scars marked the skin from your ankle to the soft back of your knee— a knee he’d admittedly fantasized about many nights in a row now. He’d selfishly thought about trailing kisses up your leg, pausing to nip playfully at the soft skin at your knee as he made his way north, up your thigh. He breathed deeply banishing those thoughts as he took in the site of your marred skin. Judging by the heavily keratinized markings, the injury had no doubt been painful when incurred originally. Azriel’s fingers twitched again, wanting to touch your face, hold you as he kissed away your grief.

“From Beron’s dogs,” you breathed, rolling you shoulders, as if shaking the memory from your mind. “They wouldn’t heal when I was out there,” you clicked your tongue, “granted I was starving,” you sighed, “but that’s a story for another day.” You looked at him then, and he had to steady himself at the emotions pooling in your eyes.

He’d already planned on killing Beron if the opportunity presented for what had happened with Mor, but for you, he’d make it hurt. He’d drag it out and make it slow. He’d torture him for days, flaying skin from bone, taking fingers then limbs and when at last he begged for death, Azriel would set the dogs on him and laugh as they tore him apart. He felt a long repressed need for vengeance creep up his spine, and he hated to acknowledge what its presence meant in regards to you.

“It’s okay, you know,” you’d said, head lolling to the side as you watched him, eyes swimming with a gentle affection, “I’ll never judge you for something like that.” Azriel squeezed his eyes shut as he turned his head from you and breathed in tightly. How did always manage to be so fucking disarming and vulnerable? That must’ve been a gift too.

He pinched the middle finger of the right glove and pulled it from his hand, grasping his now exposed fingers into a fist, knuckles cracking. He extended that arm out, palm up as he let you view his deepest insecurity, the thing he hated most in his appearance.

You’d stepped forward, looking at his palm. Your hands went to reach but you’d paused, looking to his eyes as you silently asked permission to touch. He nodded stiffly, watching you with the same intensity of an animal being hunted, prey ready to bolt at any moment.

Your fingers touched his hand, and he felt the connection race up his arm and to his chest, settling in his heart. Your eyes studied, and you rotated his hand, fingers gently tracing from his wrist, to knuckle, to fingernail in reverence. You covered his hand with your own, moving your eyes to his hazel ones. “Are they dead?” You’d asked seriously, and he stuttered a shocked laugh. “Yes, Little One, they are,” he answered, a small smile playing at his mouth. The two of you far too similar it seemed. “Good,” you’d said simply before kissing his knuckles and pulling the glove back on for him. The action was quietly intimate, and Azriel should’ve kissed you then. Mother knows he considered it, eyes watching you with rapt attention as his heart sped up and breathing shallowed.

“If you two are done flirting, lunch is ready,” Cassian announced from the doorway, breaking the spell you were both under. You’d jumped and laughed freely at the large male smirking at the entrance. You grasped Azriel’s hand tightly in affection before releasing it to turn on your heel to exit the room, passing by Cass with an eye roll, thumping him square in the chest.

Cassian looked to his brother as he walked into the room and his face split into a shit eating grin. “Let’s go, loverboy,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Azriel glared, scoffing as he followed behind you, praying to whatever Gods were listening that he’d get you alone again soon.

In your second century with the Night Court, you’d lessened the blatant flirting and settled into loving, easy friendship. You regularly attended balls and galas in Hewn City, fitting into such pomp with practiced ease, but always with a dagger strapped to your thigh, ready to cut a male down in seconds. Those events were almost routine at this point: Azriel would save you a dance, and you’d move together in a slow ritual that you’d both perfected over the years, he’d bow as the violinist played their final note and resume his place on dais at Rhys’ right. His eyes would follow you the rest of the night, as you spoke in an airy manner to various high fae, glaring at any male whose hands ventured too close to his mate.

Nights when the Court held parties at the House of Wind were different though. You were far less rigid, finding it easy to exist without scrutiny. Those were the nights Azriel’s eyes rarely left your form as he watched obsessively from the corners of the room.

“You’re staring,” Rhys chimed from his place next to Azriel, eyes not leaving the crowd as he spoke to the Shadowsinger, mouth smirking. Azriel was staring. You’d worn cobalt blue tonight, a lovely color on your skin. His color on your skin. Mother above, the male possessiveness that crawled up his spine was unreal. Mate, mate, mate, his shadows had sang in his ear. He wanted to pluck the eyes from every male in the room for even glancing in your direction. He wanted so much more than that too. Your breathy sighs as he marked you, your moan as he made you come undone, his name crying from your lips as he ate his come from your cunt after. Azriel had a million and one scenarios running through his head. He yearned to make each one of them come to fruition too.

He hadn’t answered Rhysand, so the High Lord tried again, “you really should tell her, but please,” Rhys closed his eyes with a grimace, “quiet your thoughts first, for Cauldron’s sake.” That got Azriel’s attention, his back straightening and mental shield slamming down. His eyes squeezed shut, almost as if he was in pain. “I cannot burden her with that now,” he said, “not with war at our doorstep.” Indeed, the second war with Hybern creeped ever closer, disappearances of other high fae occurring daily. Whatever they were planning across the sea, it was going to bring Prythian to its knees.

Rhysand sighed then, feeling older than his 500 years. “Be that as it may, we should hold those we love tighter.” Rhysand looked to Feyre at that moment, his eyes meeting his mate’s, as he sent a strum of warm affection down the bond. She smiled and returned it cheerily. He turned back to Azriel, “if it all ends tomorrow, I know my love and she knows me. That’s all we can ask for in this immortal life.” Azriel looked back to you, and your eyes were already on him, tracing the shadows that wound around his chest. You met his eyes and winked, before turning back to Mor and laughing freely.

“I thank the Cauldron daily it was you that found her in those mountains, Rhys.” Azriel spoke quietly, admitting a small secret he’d not told anyone. Rhysand softened, and clapped his friend on the shoulder, “As I am, brother.” Azriel nodded, letting the conversation die between himself and the High Lord as he drained the drink in his hand and moved down the steps in your direction.

You’d been in conversation with Mor when he approached. She was telling you of the seamstress she’d been seeing, and how happy she was. Azriel cleared his throat from behind the two of you and you turned to meet him, taking in his appearance with wide eyes. “Ladies,” he started, bowing to you and Mor, who snorted at the silly formality. “And that note, I’ll be taking my leave. I’ve got a lady to see,” she said with a wink and a flourish of her red dress. You laughed and shook your head before turning back to the Shadowsinger. He’d caught you staring earlier and your heart had nearly jumped into your throat, before Mor mocked you lightly, diffusing the tension.

“Hi Az,” you greeted softly, before dropping your empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and thanking them. Azriel watched you closely, noting the revealed skin that shifted with each movement, committing every angle and freckle to memory.

“You want to get out of here?” He dared ask, jerking his head toward the private balcony on the House of Wind. You raised a brow, Azriel? Asking you to leave? Together? You heart was back in your throat and you thanked the Mother that you’d taken your time getting ready that evening. Nodding, you grasped his arm as he offered it to you like a proper courtier. He walked the two of you up a round of stairs and away from the eyes he’d threatened earlier in the night. Voices dulled the more space you put between yourselves and them and you couldn’t help but start to sweat a bit at the thought of being alone with Azriel.

You’d been friends for nearly two centuries, but you’d always felt a connection with the male. Your heart thrummed with a warm, golden affection when he got close. It made keeping a clear head during training hard. It made sitting next to him at dinner difficult. And when he’d looked at you like you hung the moon as you danced earlier in the night, it made you want to take him to bed and ride him until he moaned your name. You breathed deeply. ‘Focus,’ you chided yourself, ‘he is your friend, for Cauldron’s sake.’

He led you out onto to the balcony and stopped at the railing before looking up at the star flecked sky. “This is my favorite part of the House,” he said eyes scanning the sky before looking back to you as you watched him. A blush crept up his neck, before he cleared his throat again.

“I’ve always wondered what it was like to be able to fly, you know,” you said quietly, removing your hand from his arm, rolling up onto your toes, leaning against the stone railing, and looking out on Velaris before scanning your eyes up to the three stars that shone brightly overhead. “When I was a child, I met a Peregryn from the Dawn Court and thought she had the most beautiful wings I’d ever seen.” You chanced a glance his way, “I’d not met an Illyrian yet.” You reminded with a smirk, bumping his arm with fondness. Gods, he was in trouble.

“I asked her what it was like and she said it was the purest sense of freedom possible.” You glanced down at your feet, “I spent the next year wishing for wings.” He mulled on your words. He wanted to say something cheesy as Cassian would, like ‘I’ll be your wings’ but he couldn’t, so you continued on.

“When I was a little older, I witnessed a blue skinned lesser fae’s wings ripped from his body as punishment and it was the most gruesome thing I’d seen at that point.” You took a shuddering breath, “I cried for him that night. The lost freedom. How maddening it must’ve been.” You looked at him then and he watched you with furrowed brows. “How does it feel for you?” You asked softly, eyes tracing the shine of his wing. ‘Magnificent things,’ you thought. You remembered seeing his wings for the first time and thinking the Peregryn had finally moved to second place in your mind.

Azriel had to gather himself as he spoke, “It’s… everything.” He said quietly adjusting his body to extend a wing. “My ability to fly came in late,” he said, and your eyes widened, you hadn’t known that. “My childhood was… rough and I didn’t learn to fly until I was nearly grown.” He laughed, scuffing the toe of his boot, wings folding in behind him. “It was a lot of crash landings those first months.” You snorted, mental image of a younger Az, landing in a puddle of mud crossing your mind.

“I was never a proud Illyrian, not like the others,” he continued, “it was hard for me to reconcile my heritage and our traditions.” He looked to the cityscape then, “but the stronger I got, the more I understood why flight was so crucial to my people.” He looked to you, eyes shining, “it’s the closest we can get to the stars.”

You leaned over the railing again, staring wistfully at the night sky, the moon reflecting on your skin. “Will you take me someday? Flying, I mean.” Did you not know Azriel would give you the world? Of course he’d take you flying. He’d give you the moon, the stars, walk through fire and back, anything. He nodded, “you say the word, and I’ll fly you the the ocean and back.” The smile that broke across your face crippled him, his knees threatened to give way.

“Yours are my favorite,” you murmured softly, eyes glancing from his wings to his face. Azriel blushed in full, pink speckling his neck and cheeks as he laughed. “Don’t let Cass hear you say that, he’s got an ego,” he said, a smile remaining at his lips. You liked him like this the most. Loose, smiling, free. You reached up then, cupping his reddened cheek, thumb stroking. “I don’t care,” you said smiling, “it’s the truth.” Azriel swallowed roughly, staring at your eyes swimming with an emotion he knew, but was much too stubborn and scared to name.

Just as your hand went to retreat, he grasped it between his own. “You can touch them,” he offered, knowing damn well the implications, “if you want,” he added. Your eyes widened. Mor had mentioned once that Illyrian’s wings were ‘sensitive,’ was the word she’d used. It was a sign of great intimacy and trust to allow another to touch them. You felt the air shift between you two then, as you nodded.

He extended a wing toward you. This felt so much like the first time he’d shown you his hands all those years ago. Your hand crept forward and gentle fingers met the red gold membrane that stretched between two metacarpals. Your fingers traced the membrane in smooth circles, then traced up to the crest. Azriel felt his breath gutter out of his mouth in a loud, choppy exhale, and he felt himself harden at the sensation of your fingers against the most sensitive portion of his wings. You gasped and jerked away at the sudden noise, before apologizing. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten carried away.”

Azriel shook his head, “It’s not that, they’re sensitive.” There was that word again, only it made you think of how they’d been shredded before the King of Hybern, and you opened your mouth to apologize again, but he stopped you short. “I haven’t allowed another to touch them freely since my mother.” The admission floored you, your gut giving way with a breath.

You looked to his eyes then, the air between you had shifted again and you knew this was it. This was the moment you’d waited for, he was going to kiss you. Mother, it felt you’d waited a millennia, and he felt just the same. But that kiss never came. Instead, Azriel went stock still, his eyes now on the House behind you.

“Azriel?” You questioned. “It’s Rhys,” he said tightly, “he’s summoning me.” You understood then. He looked to you desperately, eyes a little wild and apologetic. “I’m sorry, I have to go to him.” You nodded, you both worked for the High Lord, you’d never get in the way of Azriel’s allegiance to his Court. “Of course,” you said quietly, taking a step back and swallowing down your disappointment.

Azriel took three steps towards the entrance then stopped. “I’ll take you,” he turned around, backing his way to the arched stone, but keeping his eyes on you for a moment longer. “When I get back, I’ll take you flying,” he offered. Another smile etched its way across your face and Azriel took a long moment to memorize it greedily. “It’s a date,” you said confidently. He beamed then, turning on a heel to pick up into a jog, Rhys no doubt shouting to hurry up.

That date hadn’t happened though. The second war with Hybern broke out days later and you both barely made it out alive.

When Feyre had come to Velaris after Amarantha’s defeat, you’d accepted her with easy friendship. You saw Rhysand, your longtime friend, overcome with love for his newly found mate, and you couldn’t help but love her as well. You’d shared your story with her and the two of you bonded deeply over her art. She’d offered to teach you to paint, and you began taking lessons in your off time. Rhys had been Cauldron blessed with her and you reminded him daily.

Later, when Feyre’s sisters joined their little unit, you’d been the first one to break Nesta’s tough exterior. The female saw parts of herself in you and you’d gotten her to crack a smile when you mocked Rhys’ High Lord voice at dinner one night. Elain had been a tougher sell, but you’d tried, along with Azriel, to bring the female out of her shell. The day she joined you in the library to read, you knew progress had been made, even if you two had only sat in silence a few feet apart, a small smile gracing her features.

You left her book recommendations with small notes and she began to do the same. Your friendship playing out in the margins of the library’s tomes. You won her over with silent conversation. Nesta noticed, of course, and she looked to you with gratitude as she saw her sister’s eyes brightened and skin began to return to its normal, healthy color. The night Azriel mentioned it as you walked down the hall toward the dining room for the family meal, you’d shrugged. “I met her where she needed me to,” you’d said quietly, glancing to your feet. Azriel smiled, a Cauldron blessed gift indeed.

Dinners at the House of Wind were by far Azriel’s favorite version of you. You’d laugh with abandon, smile splitting your face, showing every tooth as Mor cracked a joke and leaned against you for support, one too many drinks in her system. The first time he’d seen that smile, it blinded him, and he’d gone a little dazed, staring at you in wonderment. Rhys had interrupted his train of thought with an invasive insertion of “How quickly she reduced you to a puddle, brother.” Azriel had scowled at Rhys then, mental shields firming up, but not before he heard the distinct sound of his High Lord laughing at the Spymaster’s defensiveness.

Indeed Azriel was gone for you. When Cassian finally confronted him last year about the truth of his feelings, Azriel saw no point to avoid it any longer, not after his brothers had also found their mates. “Our souls are one in the same, she’s my mate,” he’d said pensively, as if he was letting his deepest secret breath in the light for the first time in centuries. Maybe he was. He’d made Cassian promise on his life not to tell anyone, and despite being the biggest gossip in the Inner Circle, he kept his promise. He was thrilled for his brother, knowing you were the perfect match.

Little did Azriel know, everyone else was already more than aware of his affections. Amren had figured it out a century prior when Azriel had tended your needs as you’d recovered from an injury sustained during a mission. He’d fretted around you like a mother hen, buying you flowers, sweets, and books while you were bedridden. The female had watched and hummed with a raised eyebrow as Azriel exited your room for the fifth time in one day, wringing his hands with worry despite Madja’s clean bill of health.

Feyre had figured it out the same year she’d returned from the Spring Court, just before the second war with Hybern. She’d seen the way his eyes had followed you in the war room Rhys had created to host strategy meetings. Saw him lean towards you when you spoke, saw his wings flutter when you finally cast your gaze to him, eager for your attention. More than anything, she’d seen his shadows, desperate little things, sneaking across the floor each night, sidling up your ankles and wrists, begging for your affection. You always laughed and nuzzled them as the wound their way to your hair and Azriel went a little soft at the sight.

When she told Mor, the blonde had laughed, “They’ve been circling each for two hundred years now, eventually one of them will cave.” Mor leveled a sardonic look at Feyre then, “and when they do, we’ll all have to relocate to the River House for a year lest we be subject to the frenzy.”

This mission should’ve been simple. Rhys had asked you to check out reports of rogue soldiers spotted making their way towards the border of the Night Court from the Day coastline. The intel he’d received had mentioned three to four maximum, all of them drunken ex-Hybern loyalists. It should’ve been a matter of locating them, spying for a day or two, then winnowing in to neutralize any threat. Gods, this was far from simple.

When you’d arrived in the region, the hairs on your neck rose, the air itself feeling off. As you tracked them, you’d noticed intentional attempts to throw you off course. A carelessly trashed map, crudely laid tracks in the opposite direction, Dawn Court wine bottles that had been emptied and tossed about. They knew you were there, and you quickly realized that a trap had been laid. You backed off them then, staying further than you’d have liked, but trying like hell to make them think you’d given up.

On your fourth night following them, you’d drifted away to an inn two towns over, desperately seeking a place to bathe and rest, even for a few hours. As you bathed, you felt watched in a way that discomfited you to your core, and your dagger stayed within arms reach the rest of the night. Suddenly, the role you’d played for the last two hundred years had left you entirely ill equipped for whatever was happening here.

You’d left out before dawn, refusing to lose an ounce of daylight, but as you hit the tree line, readying yourself to winnow out, you’d noticed it. Hanging from a tree, a hundred yards away was a piece of clothing, your clothing. Clothing that should’ve been in the pack at your back. Your breath shuttered out of you as you opened your mind to Rhys, asking for back up. You were in over your head and you knew when to admit it. There was no pride in getting yourself killed.

As you turned to move back to the inn where you could wait out contact from Rhys in a public location, you were met with a pair of shining blue eyes. You stepped back, keeping your grounding, readying for a fight. “You’ve been following us,” the stranger said calmly, beginning to trek in a slow circle around you. You opened your mind to Rhys again, “Help,” you called. Rhys answered this time, “Where are you?!” It was a frantic response, you never asked for help, Rhys knew this. “Just off the coast, beneath the mountain range, Day court border, 400 hundred paces from the inn” you spoke to Rhys in choppy thoughts, trying to establish a location before all hell broke loose.

“I have,” you finally answered the stranger, whose lips quirked at your voice. He stopped circling and resumed his stance in front of you, blocking passage to the inn. “Why?” He asked and you tried to keep your mind steady as you answered. “You’re trespassers in these lands” you stated simply, shrugging a shoulder up. He grinned then, “had your lot not gotten in the way of our King’s plans, these would be our lands. We were promised them. I was personally promised the Court of Nightmares.”

“Well,” you shrugged feigning indifference, “that’s not how the war played out, so I will have to ask you to leave,” you offered in your most bored political tone. The same tone you’d used with High Fae that ran off at the mouth in Hewn City. The stranger cocked his head the side then, eyes twinkling, “I don’t think I will.” At that moment, one by one, additional soldiers appeared from the forest line. One, then four, then ten, until near twenty stood around you, looking on with hatred.

Shit.

“We’d hoped for the Illyrians, but it seems your High Lord sent us a treat instead,” the stranger said with mirth. You steeled your spine, looking down your nose at the stranger, “They’re going to kill you, you know.” He’d laughed at your threat. “I think not,” he said as as arrow was released from your left, finding purchase in your shoulder. You folded over on yourself at the blow, and looked up baring your teeth, before drawing your dagger and rushing the stranger with a feral sound.

Five more arrows hit you before your blade could find its target. One into your hip, two in your back, a fourth piercing your in your upper thigh, until the last burrowed into the back of your knee, bringing you down in front of him — forcing you to bow to the stranger. The arrows were laced with faebane you realized as you’d begun to feel its effects in your blood. Your power waning quickly, thoughts becoming murky.

You released another shattered thought to Rhys then, “Tell him, please,” you begged raggedly. Rhysand came back with a rushed and tight, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” You shook your head, there wasn’t time. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” He responded but it muddled out, sounding like words shouted through a pool of water, then your brain fell quiet. The line severed.

The stranger lifted your head, hand wrapped around your throat, as he bent to meet your crouched form. “I’ll be sure to savor this,” he smiled and the hilt of his sword came in fierce contact with your forehead.

It was the early morning on your fifth day away when Rhys heard you. “Help,” it had come through so clearly that it startled Rhys awake and set his heart to racing. You’d only asked for help once, during the war when you were overrun and near death. You were in danger.

He’d sat up straight in bed, Feyre still sleeping silently at his side, hand resting on her pregnant stomach. “Where are you?!” He’d asked down the line, a little frantic, remembering the state he and Azriel had found you in last time. Gods, you’d been run through on a Hybern soldier’s sword, the damage was astronomical. Azriel had nearly killed everyone within a mile radius at the sight of you.

You recited your location in short bursts and Rhys focused on the bond of your bargain, using it to locate you with more precision. He reached out to Azriel then, “Get Cassian and meet me downstairs. Be ready to fly.” Azriel responded an affirmative and Rhys rushed around his room, grabbing his dagger lined belt, and using his magic to dress in his leathers quickly. He winnowed to the base of the stairs and was glad to find Cassian and Azriel waiting.

“Tell him, please” you begged into Rhys’ mind then, words growing ragged. Rhys’ eyes slammed shut with a wince and he attempted to reassure you, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” Rhys opened his eyes and looked to Azriel, who was watching him with anticipation. You responded again, words growing murkier, a little warbled. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” Rhysand felt sick. “We will find you and you will tell him yourself,” he spoke but the bond was dead, silent, foreboding. Rhys thought he might vomit.

He looked to Azriel again, “It’s her. She’s in trouble. We have to go.” Azriel’s face darkened with a thunderous ferocity. Mother help the males who’d harmed you. “Where?” He asked, voice deep with the threat of murderous violence. “The wilds on the border, off the coast of Day. I’ll winnow us as close as possible.” Azriel nodded his acquiesce and lifted a trembling hand to his hair, running scarred fingers through the strands. Cassian spoke then, “we will get her back,” he’d said softly as Rhysand put his hands to the two of them, preparing for the jump. “And we will kill every last one of them,” Cassian added darkly as blue-black shadows encased them and they disappeared.

You awoke with a start, gasping like you’d been underwater. Your shoulders ached from your position. You pulled on your hands only to realize you were shackled to a tree somewhere deep in the forest, the same forest you’d been on the outskirts of earlier. You looked up to the sky, trying to find the sun to gauge how much time had passed. The sun had long moved past midday and was sinking towards the evening horizon. Your throat tightened. Where was Rhysand?

“Nice of you to join us,” a voice spoke. It was the stranger again, he emerged from the camp set two hundred paces to your left, hidden by shrubs and underbrush. You got a good look at him this time. He was tall, leanly muscular in a way that reminded you of Lucien Vanserra. His hair was a dishwater blonde and lacked any sheen, falling in choppy dry waves around his shoulders. His face was gaunt, eyes sunken, bruised with a lack of rest, and his cheekbones were sharp, giving his face an angle that made him look harsh and unforgiving. Though he carried himself with confidence, you noticed a slight, barely there limp in his right leg, an old wound perhaps, one that never healed correctly. You noted that for later, if you ever got out of these shackles.

You leveled a glare at him that you hoped looked more fearsome than you felt. Mother, your bones ached and your wounds throbbed. “I left the arrows in, but broke off the shaft. Didn’t want to have you healing too quickly.” He spoke with nonchalance, while polishing a dagger, your dagger, you realized as your eyes focused. You pulled at the shackles above your head, and the stranger chuckled at your attempt.

“What do you want?” Your voice croaked, mouth dry from disuse. The stranger laughed, pointing the blade at you, “I want my fucking court and you’re the key to getting it.” You shook your head then, “I am nothing.” The words sounded foreign on your tongue, a lie on some level, you knew this, but you would be damned before you gave up your family. The stranger clicked his tongue at your response, shaking his head.

“Surely you don’t believe that? The High Lord doesn’t trust easily, you’ve been seen with his entourage. The Shadowsinger’s whore.” He squatted a few feet from you, eyes tracing from your tied hands down to your face, pausing at your breasts, before trekking down your stomach, thighs, and calves. He was sizing up how much fight you had left.

Your brain had short circuited though, the Shadowsinger’s whore. Mother above, you’d never even kissed. How long had this male watched you and your family? How had none of you seen it? A bitter laugh wretched from your lungs, “sorry to disappoint, but the Shadowsinger isn’t mine.” No matter how desperately I’ve wished it so, you added silently.

The stranger grinned then, “if you are truly nothing, then I’ll make this a little sweeter.” He took steps towards you, raising the dagger to rest at your chin, the blade pressing to the underside painfully. “You’re far too pretty to be nothing.” He ran the blade along the column of your throat, resting it against your sternum, between your breasts. You pushed yourself further into the tree, back protesting as the arrows burrowed deeper with the movement. You didn’t like the new angle this interaction had taken and your fight or flight instincts were screaming.

You attempted to reach out to Rhysand, but the bond was dead silent. Your breathing hitched at the realization that you were truly alone in this. The stranger chuckled, dragging the blade down your chest, slicing the leathers, letting the fabric fall open and reveal your undergarments to his greedy view. Your legs moved to kick, but you realized quickly they too were tied. The blade came to rest at your bare stomach, and the stranger dug it in below the navel, causing blood to pool there. You winced, but made no sound.

“Ah, I was hoping you’d be louder than that,” the stranger smirked, “I’ll have to try harder.” He backed up then and pulled a whip from his back pocket, unfurling it with a crack. Your eyes widened and you brain went silent, fear overtaking your senses. “There it is,” his smile gleamed with violent delight, “there’s the reaction I was hoping for.” He reared an arm back before cracking the whip in your direction. The leather made contact with your torso, a stinging slice appearing along your rib cage. You jerked, but bit your tongue.

He cracked it again and again until you were bloody, slices in your leathers, festering wounds along your breasts, ribs, and stomach. You’d counted to 25 lashes before your brain gave out and your vision blurred from the pain. You looked up to the sky wearily. The sun was gone and the stars were slowly appearing. You smiled at them, remembering Azriel’s words from that night all those years ago.

You hoped he’d forgive you for not telling him. You hoped he’d understand your fear in revealing that secret, that the bond had snapped for you during the war. When that Hybern soldier’s sword pierced your armor, running through your body to the hilt, and he’d let out a fearsome bellow from across the field at the sight. You felt it then, the golden strumming taking the form of a fated thread linking you two. You been near death when he and Rhys had found you and the only thing you could do was smile. Such an ironic thing it was to die in the arms of your mate.

Your head lolled to the side as exhaustion threatened to overtake you. “Azriel,” your thoughts ventured, calling down the bond he didn’t even know existed, “I love you.” Darkness swam in the corners of your vision but you swore you felt his responding tug. The Mother was kind for granting that hallucinative mercy in your final hours. Your body gave out, slumping against the shackles and darkness overwhelmed you.

Azriel was furious. No, furious wasn’t the word, he was a walking time bomb. You were gone. His mate was missing and he was going to explode. As he’d arrived with Rhys and Cassian to the location you’d given them, he could smell you. His eyes searched frantically around the scene before him until they zeroed in on an item hanging from a branch a few dozen paces out. Cloth of some sort? He approached and could detect your scent on it, realizing quickly it was your clothing. A ripped cotton blouse. His fists clenched and he vaguely heard Rhysand speaking to his left. “They must’ve captured her here.” Rhys crouched down to the ground, two fingers swiping the dirt there, before bringing them eye level to examine sample. “Blood,” he muttered, rubbing the hand on the leg of his pants, “she was injured.” Azriel’s heart thundered, he was going to fucking explode.

He set his shadows work, surveying the forest with rapid precision. They’d cover more ground this way, an army of three operating like a whole infantry. By the time the sun rose to midday, Azriel was ready to begin screaming. They trekked further into the forest, following a line of smoke that was miles deep, originating at a camp somewhere far into the wilds. His shadows murmured to him of a small band of males there, of you, shackled to a fucking tree, arrows buried in your back. He’d nearly lost the contents of his stomach at the information and set to a run alongside Rhysand and Cassian.

As the three approached the encampment, the sun was nearing dusk. Rhysand had commanded the halt and strategize. There were roughly twenty-five men, all armed. They couldn’t enter this blindly and infuriated, they would lose if they weren’t careful. Azriel hated admitting he was right, his instincts screaming otherwise. Mate, mate, mate, his heart pounded.

They backed off to a thousand paces out, close enough that they could hear if the troop vacated the premises. As Rhysand and Cassian spoke quietly, Azriel felt his heart thrum. The golden thread there had pulled him closer to you and he could tell you were still alive. Though Rhys couldn’t reach out through your bargain, Azriel’s bond was still alight and warm, he stroked it with gentle affection. You might not feel it, but Gods he would try.

As the trio retraced their steps to the camp, stars were just beginning to light overhead and Azriel grasped his daggers tightly, knuckles cracking around the hilt. He was going to kill them. Kill them all brutally for taking you, for touching what was his. When they were within a stones throw from the camp he heard it, heard you. “Azriel,” you whispered into his mind. He went stock still, spine ramrod straight, fingers trembling as they gripped his knives. The golden bond vibrated in his chest, and he felt you reaching out through murky waters, against all odds. “I love you,” you said with a soft exhaustion before your side went dark. Azriel’s breathing guttered and he felt high on mirthroot, sick from fae wine, and enraged to the point of explosion all at once. His blue siphons flared brightly from the surge of power. He closed his eyes and reached out to you through the bond, tugging on the thread connecting your souls. He was coming. He was going to save you.

Rhysand looked to him then, curiosity swimming in his eyes as he took in the Shadowsinger’s sudden stop. Azriel opened eyes, irises alight with fire and shadow, voice grinding with dark threat, “Let’s go.” Rhys nodded and Cassian drew his knives.

They moved with brutal efficiency, killing male after male until none remained alive. Some had begged, others shouted and scattered their belongings as they set into a run. His shadows had caught them, twisting around their ankles and dragging them back to meet their fate, daggers slicing throats from ear to ear until blood poured like a prized hunt being slaughtered, the Illryian’s hands grasping and snapping necks like twigs. It was a practiced routine for the three of them, who’d trained since they were teens.

As they stepped through the shrubs to find you, Cassian gasped and Azriel felt his lungs threaten to collapse at the sight. You’d been shackled to a tree at the wrists and ankles and whipped within an inch your life. Wounds glistened with blood along your thighs, soft stomach, ribs, breasts. There had to be thirty lashes. A knife wound was visible at your exposed navel. Your head hung forward unconscious and Azriel’s heart pounded. He wanted to vomit and his hands shook.

“She said you’d come,” a voice said, emerging from behind the tree you were bound to. The male held a dagger to your throat. This new stranger had to be the leader of this band of idiots. Azriel’s eyes followed the tip of the blade up his arm to the male’s eyes and a growl escaped him as he bared his teeth. The male laughed, “to think she said she was nothing and yet I have both the Shadowsinger and the Lord of Bloodshed before me to save her.”

Azriel’s mind latched on to that piece of information, turning it over in his head. You’d told this male you were nothing? Did you not know Azriel would do anything for you? You were everything. You were his love, light of his life, keeper of his soul, his mate. How alone you must’ve felt, how scared. Azriel’s eyes narrowed, he was going kill him.

Rhysand spoke then, emerging from behind the two Illyrian brothers, “And may I ask why you’ve abducted a member of my court?” He was in High Lord mode, tone bored, fingers picking at his sleeve. The Hybern male’s smile gleamed at the introduction, “just who I was hoping to see!”

“Hybern, the old fool, made a few promises in his last days as King,” the male spoke, digging the blade down to your chest, where it rested over your heart. Azriel stared at the blade, eyes tracing to the the hilt. That was your blade, the one he’d given you when you first arrived in Velaris, the one you wielded against Eris, the one you kept strapped to your thigh. Your own knife had been used against you.

“One of which was that I would inherit these lands after your lot were annihilated.” Azriel wanted to laugh at the male’s words, was he serious? “A dead king cannot honor empty promises,” he ground out eyes shifting to the male’s blue eyes. “A dead and headless king cannot gift you shit,” Azriel spat. The male smiled then, a feline grin growing on his lips. “Precisely Shadowsinger, a dead king cannot give me my due, but this little thing can help.” You’d made a noise then, something akin to a whimper as you came to. Eyes wincing then fluttering open as your irises found Azriel’s immediately, some preternatural magnetism existing between the two of you. Then you looked to Cassian and Rhysand, and your eyes swam with apology.

“She awakens!” The male sang, looking to you. Azriel jumped at the opportunity to send his shadows out while the male’s attention was elsewhere. They traced over the ground to you, circling the tree and working at your binds. He sent two others towards the distracted male. “Who knew the Night Court was so attached to a whore,” the male laughed, “I want my lands,” he fixed Rhysand with a glare, “you can have your plaything back in exchange for my seat, High Lord” he sneered.

Rhysand looked from you to the stranger to the shadow now creeping ever closer to the male. “You must be mistaken,” Rhys said then and Azriel’s shadows wrapped around the male’s neck and wrist simultaneously, whispering violence for touching their mate, forcing the dagger from his grasp and air from his lungs. Azriel tightened them until they heard bones crack in the male’s arm and choked sounds exit his throat, face reddening as oxygen was cut off. “I do not make deals with dim witted cunts,” Rhysand said darkness beginning to surround him, High Lord voice encroaching, “I do not entertain terrorists and I do not take kindly to threats on my family.”

‘Finish him,’ Rhysand said darkly into Azriel’s mind and the Shadowsinger moved with lightening precision, dagger find purchase as the male’s neck was sliced open and his right hand was removed from his body. The male’s body toddled forward with a choked gurgling, before falling to the ground, lifeless, blood pooling.

Azriel’s gaze fell to you and he softened. His shadows finished picking the lock of the shackles that held your arms and they clicked open, allowing your body to fall into his. “Azriel,” you breathed, voice weary with exhaustion, “I didn’t— I—“ you stuttered, pulling a shaking hand to his face. You swallowed, tracing his cheek with trembling fingers, “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” you murmured, your watery eyes searching his face, memorizing the details of his visage.

Azriel picked you up in his arms and unfurled his wings protectively. “I will always come for you,” he said vehemently, eyes watching your face with intensity. You smiled, a weepy trembling smile as you nodded. Rhysand reached the Shadowsinger’s side then and your eyes moved to his violet ones, “Hi Little One, I’m so sorry we’re late.” You let out a single watery laugh before wincing as the sudden expansion of your chest burned the wounds littering your chest and back.

“The arrows,” you gasped, “at my back,” you twisted in Azriel’s hold, “please get them out.” Rhysand leaned down to inspect the wounds. “Faebane,” he surmised, that’s why his connection to you had been severed. “We need to get her to Madja, now.” Azriel nodded, allowing Rhys and Cassian to move closer so the High Lord could winnow them home.

Landing back at the House of Wind had been chaotic. Rhysand shouted immediately to get every healer available and the dining room table had been lined with a sheet, turning the warm family room into a medical ward. You were laid facedown on the table and Azriel took to your side, scarred hands touching your face, keeping you awake as Madja worked to remove the six arrows burrowed in your body.

You’d screamed. The sound would haunt Azriel for centuries. You begged to make it stop and Madja had apologized softly as she worked faster to remove them while minimizing damage. “I’ve got you,” Azriel said softly, “eyes on me, alright?” He rubbed the hollow under your eye with a scarred thumb and you opened your eyes to lock on his. “No gloves,” you said, smiling tightly, before wincing as Madja applied local anesthetic to an arrow wound. Azriel smiled, eyes a little watery. “Not with you,” he whispered shaking his head, “never with you.” You smiled at him and the sight set Azriel’s heart to fluttering.

Later, after the arrows had been removed and wounds bandaged, you’d been given a strong herb tonic for pain that set your head swimming as exhaustion overtook you. Azriel carried you his room, laying you gently onto the mattress and covered you with the duvet. He leaned down then, breathing in your scent as he placed a kiss to your forehead, nuzzling his nose to the Winter white hair there. He would tell you. When you awoke, he would bare his soul to you.

You woke with a groan. Fucking Gods, your body ached with the effort it took to roll over. “Easy,” a voice came from the corner of the room. Your breath gasped out of you as your eyes raced to the figure there. “Azriel,” you breathed. The male smiled warmly at you and stepped forward to rest at the edge of the mattress. You pushed up in the bed, the wound at your shoulder screaming from the exertion. Once in a sitting position, you rested your back on the headboard as you looked at him. “For taking out a small militia, you seemed to be decently uninjured,” you said smiling tightly, memories of the stranger and his whip haunting your mind. He snorted a small laugh, “Yes well,” he looked down then, thumbs fiddling with each other, chest heating, “I had something worth fighting for.”

He looked back to you and your cheeks had grown pink, a small pleased smile at your lips. “I heard you, you know,” he said softly, turning enough to rest a hand on your thigh, thumb drawing small, soothing circles there. The heat generated in the touch sent a spark to your belly. Oh, you were fucked. “I heard you in my head, through the bond,” he said eyes watching his thumb as it traced on your bare skin hypnotically.

“You know then?” You whispered, breath skittering out of you. You were scared to death of the trajectory the conversation was taking, your heart preparing for the best and the worst simultaneously. Azriel’s eyes dragged up your form to your face and a smile broke over his lips, one that caused your heart to ignite. Your Mother had once told you the heart was an organ of fire and you’d laughed, never having cause to believe such a statement. You understood now.

“I—“ Azriel started, before clearing his throat, turning his body to face you in full, a knee pulled up on the mattress, touching yours. “In the whole time I have known you— two centuries, Little One,” he looked at you pointedly, “you have been my dearest friend, my greatest comfort, my confidant, and the person I admire most in this Gods forsaken world.” He breathed deeply, a whoosh exiting his lips as his hand tightened around your thigh. “The times when you were lost to me have been some of the most painful moments I’ve experienced.”

Your eyes began to water, and you moved a hand to rest atop his own, thumb circling the scarred skin at his wrist. He took a breath then and the air shifted between you, his mouth opening and closing, as if he was gathering his confidence for what he was about to say next. “I have loved for you so long that I’d given up all hope of reciprocation.” The words shattered through you as all air escaped your lungs, guts swooping down as heat alighted there. “I felt the bond the night Eris came for you,” he continued, eyes watching your entwined hands. Your body went still and a startled laugh exited your mouth. Azriel’s eyes flew to yours questioningly.

“Sorry,” you chuckled again, “I’m just realizing how fucking stupid we’ve been.” You lolled your to the side, watching him with loving eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for almost two centuries, Azriel,” you smiled, “I thought you wouldn’t want me.” Azriel’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing in disbelief, two then three times. You thought for a second to compare him to the guppy fish that swam in schools along the banks of the Sidra but refrained.

He pushed forward then, hands coming to cup your face, pinky and ring fingers resting in the hollow below your ear, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “How could I not? You’re everything,” he whispered, searching your face, conviction showing in his eyes. You couldn’t stop the smile that overtook your mouth as you spoke, “and you’re my mate.” His eyes moved to your lips, glazing before they moved back to your eyes. “As you are mine,” he spoke confidently.

Your eyes watched each other for a long second, “I really hope you’ll kiss me this time,” your hand trailed up his arm, fingers teasing. “Mother knows I’ve been dreaming of it for far too long.” He surged forward, lips meeting yours and you thought you might float away. You gasped and his tongue moved in, claiming your mouth, your taste with his own.

He pulled away minutes later, a little breathless, “Sorry to have kept you waiting, my love,” he spoke, resting his forehead to yours with a smile, watching your dazed expression, pink cheeks, as your lips split into a grin. Your hand moved to the front of his button down, fisting in the material there, giving an experimental tug. “Kiss me like that again and I’ll consider forgiving you.”

The laugh that came out of him was golden, and you pushed yourself to memorize it. Azriel, Lord of Shadows, Spymaster for the Night Court, Rhysand’s right hand and Illyrian warrior was soft for you. He loved you. He was your mate. You’d be giddy about it for the rest of your life.

Your healing had been slower than you would’ve liked. The faebane had done serious damage but with Madja’s help, the scarring was minimized. The lashes at your front took two weeks to heal, the arrow wounds took three. Three fucking weeks. Meanwhile all you could think about was your mate. He hadn’t left your side in the interim. Helping you take steps, applying the wound creams that Madja had left in small glass pots, keeping you fed, making you laugh, telling you how much he loved you daily. Mother above, you were going to ruin this male.

You walked into the kitchen at the end of week three, the only evidence of your wounds now in the slight limp of your right leg and twinge in your left shoulder. The marks at your stomach and chest had diminished into barely there, silver scores. Cassian was sitting at the small table in the corner as you entered. “Hi Cass,” you greeted, “seen my mate around this morning?” It was fun calling him that, a small part of your chest swelling with pride each time.

Cassian smirked, “He’s been…… out.” Your eyes narrowed, he was being evasive. “Out where?” You asked, grabbing an apple and hopping up on the counter to watch the male. He shrugged, “No idea, Little One.” You smirked, “I know where you sleep Cassian,” you started, “is it really wise to lie to me?” Nesta strode into the kitchen, “What’s he done now?” She asked laughing. “Hey! I’ll have you know I’ve done nothing!” The male exclaimed, “She’s interrogating me on the whereabouts of her maaate.” He dragged out the vowel of the last word mockingly. Nesta took her seat next to Cassian and laughed, “Ah, him.” She looked to you then, “he’ll be around to collect you soon.”

You looked between the two, suspicion dripping from your features as you took another bite from the apple in your palm. “You two are being weird,” you stated. Nesta shrugged, nudging Cassian who smiled at her. “Just wait,” she said softly, “maybe cook yourself a meal.” Cassian’s mouth quirked with a laugh he restrained. “Right, I’m leaving, cause whatever this is,” you waved a hand at them, “is deeply odd.” You hopped off the counter and strolled to the exit. You heard them laughing softly once you were out of the room, making you roll your eyes at their antics.

You’d gone to the library after leaving the kitchen and found Elain already there. Her eyes moved to you upon your entrance and she closed her book, middle finger marking her spot. “How are you feeling?” She asked softly, eyes surveying your body for lingering damage. You sighed, falling into the sofa across from her. “I’m better,” you said quietly, “the pain is gone, scars are minimal.” You turned your eyes to her, she looked brighter than the last time you’d seen her. “How are you?” You asked in return. She smiled sweetly. “Better,” she echoed you and you wanted to laugh. “I’ve been exchanging letters with Lucien,” she added and your ears perked up.

“That’s great, Elain,” you rest your chin on a closed fist, watching her. She shifted and sat her book to the side, page forgotten. “I want to tell you something,” she said quietly, fingers twiddling with each other. She looked... nervous? “I’m all ears,” you said softly.

“I had a vision while you were gone,” she started and took a deep breath. “It was so muddled at first, I couldn’t tell who it was, but then I saw you. Your hair was longer, you stood taller, and your belly was round.” The breath left your body in a powerful exhale. She looked to you again, eyes watching yours, “You were pregnant and happy and in love,” she said quietly, as if the words in themselves were fragile. Your hands trembled and you moved them under your thighs, her eyes didn’t miss the action.

“I couldn’t understand why the Mother would send me a vision like that, I saw Feyre’s pregnancy, but we’re sisters, you know?” You nodded. “Then I realized I recognized the tattooed arm I’d seen wrap around you, knew it was Azriel.” Your eyes watered, and you hiccuped out a small laugh. “I’ve known for a while you two were fated, but the Mother was telling me for certain. I hope you know how happy we are for you.” She finished and moved to sit next you, small hand touching your knee.

“When they brought you in that night, I thought the Mother had lied to me, that it was a vision of what could have been, that you wouldn’t make it.” You’d never heard Elain speak at length in this way, and you thought you might stop breathing. “I’ve never been happier to see you than when Azriel brought you in to read days later, my sweet friend.” You surged forward, throwing your arms around the female and she returned the gesture warmly.

You sat back and looked at her then. “Thank you,” you said, voice small, a little watery. She nodded before turning to resume her original spot at the end of the sofa, picking up her book and opening it to the page she’d left off.

In the hours that followed, you’d returned to the kitchen, grateful to find Cassian and Nesta had left. You took Nesta’s advice, gathering the ingredients to build a small berry tart. It had just gone in the oven when your mate appeared in the doorway.

“Hello love,” he said casually, leaning against the door jamb. You startled, turning on your heel to find him smiling at you. “Where have you been?” You asked walking towards him and running your hands around his midsection in a hug, head resting against his chest. His arm came around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your hair, breathing in your scent. “That, my dearest one, is a surprise.”

You looked up chin resting against his chest, watching his face. “It’d better be good, I baked for you,” you said, smiling softly at the Spymaster. His eyes moved to the oven then and back to you, irises darkening, as his pupils blew a little wide. “You… baked?” He asked disbelieving, “didn’t know you knew how to bake,” he followed up playfully. You gasped and shoved him, “for that, you can starve, have fun finding another mate to bake for you.” He laughed heartily and caught your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, eyes swimming with warm affection as he pressed a kiss there. Gods, the action made lust swoop in your stomach, heat spreading.

“The fool I’d be to turn away such a female,” he said, voice deepening, lips running across your knuckles with each word. “Azriel” you breathed. “Yes?” He offered in return, still smiling, moving your knuckles back and forth against his hot mouth. “Please tell me this surprise involves you bedding me.” A growl creeped out of his throat, the thought of you under him sending lust racing down his spine and to his groin.

“It might,” he said quietly, lips resuming their exploration, tracking small kisses from your knuckles, to the joint of your thumb, the inside of your wrist where Rhys’ tattoo lingered, up the soft skin of your arm, to your elbow, until he reached the skin of your shoulder. His lips traced over the raised skin there, a small nip above the scar as he traced north to your collarbone. You’d gone to putty in his hands, head rolling to the side to bare your throat. He pressed soft kisses there, pausing at your pulse point to trace the area with his warm tongue, a whimper escaping your mouth.

“If this is going to become a regular thing, I’ll need you two to relocate to the River House,” a voice came from behind you and you jumped in shock, but your mate, he let out a possessive growl before turning on the intruder. Rhysand laughed airily and folded his arms over his chest. “Easy, brother,” he smiled, causing Azriel to roll his eyes. You blinked a little dazed, and pulled away from the Shadowsinger. “You’re gonna make me burn my fucking tart,” you shoved him with an arm and laughed as you turned to resume your place at the oven.

Azriel instructed you to dress comfortably and be ready in a hour as he kissed your knuckles one last time and exited the kitchen. Butterflies roamed freely in your stomach at the thought of what he had planned. You’d returned to your quarters after removing the tart from the oven and portioning it into a small travel sized container. You were going to accept the bond, and your nerves were alight with anxious excitement. After you dressed in a lightweight linen dress, you packed a small bag with your remaining creams, and the boxed tart you’d prepared earlier.

You descended the stairs to find Azriel waiting at the base, his wings standing proudly behind him, shadows skittering around his feet. At the sight of you they raced to meet on the bottom step, running up your legs, around your waist and into your hair. A laugh escaped you as one nuzzled into the space behind your ear. Azriel watched fondly. “They love you,” he said smiling, taking a step to meet you, “ever since the bond snapped, I’ve had the hardest time reining them back from touching you.”

You reached a hand out to meet his, interlacing your fingers. “They’re cute, but you’re cuter,” you said with gentle affection. A shadow pinched at your waist and Azriel’s cheeks went a little pink as he laughed.

“Will you tell me what the surprise is?” You asked as he walked you toward the training balcony. “I’m afraid I’m very poorly dressed for training,” you joked. He snorted, “no, we’re not training.” He came to rest at the railing and then turned to you, running a hand up your arm, fingers moving to hold the back of your neck, warm palm heating the skin there, thumb grazing your jawline. “Amongst many things I’ve been terribly late for recently, I realize I owe you a date.”

Your face went a little puzzled and you looked to his eyes. “A date?” You questioned. He nodded, “I was supposed to take you flying.” Realization dawned on your features and a smile overtook your lips, each tooth shining in the setting sun. “I wanted to kiss you that night too,” you admitted laughing, remembering how desperate you’d been for his touch and attention. He smiled softly, “you have no idea how angry I was with Rhys for calling me away.” Your eyes widened, still in disbelief that this male wanted you return. It seemed both a millennia in the making and still so new and fragile.

Azriel snuck an arm around your waist and brought you up into the stretch of his firm body. His other hand tracing down your hip, then thigh, to curve under your knees as he picked you up. His wings unfurled and he shot into the air. A shaky laugh startled out of you and you gripped him tighter, your arms winding around his neck. His wings flapped in thunderous bursts, taking you higher, until you could see the entirety of Velaris spread below, the Sidra flowing like a snake through the winding city. Your breath left you in awe. “The Peregryn was right,” you said loud enough for him to hear and he smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

The flight was short, but it took you to the rural banks of the Sidra on the outskirts of the city, just before it emptied into the sea. You could see ships sailing into the harbor, moonlight beginning to trickle across the water. This was undeniably special, you thought, no one would see you up here and you felt like this was the edge of the world itself. You turned to Azriel, finding his eyes already watching you. “Thank you,” you said softly, leaning into him, his chin meeting your forehead as you moved your body to rest alongside the length of his. His hand came to rest at the small of your back, pinky stretching to graze the curve of your bottom. Wherever this was going, you were very interested.

He turned and grasped your hand, pulling you back up the hill and away from the view, towards a field of wildflowers and grasses. There, in the middle, a blanket had been laid out, small candles lit to illuminate the setting. A basket sat in one corner, a bottle of fae wine held within with an assortment of pastries, breads, and cheeses. You realized quickly that your mate, the male you’d loved for damn near two centuries, was courting you. The thought thrilled you.

He led you to the blanket and motioned for you to sit next him. “I must confess, I never took you for a romantic,” you said looking from the candles, to the basket, and then to him. He was watching you again. He smiled, laughing a bit nervously, “I’m a lot of things,” he said and your eyebrow quirked. “Oh yeah? Like what?” You challenged him and he loved you for it. You made him feel easy to love, you made loving fun and freeing. Azriel had once only thought freedom could be found in fucking and flying, then he’d found you and he knew it was there too. In the smile of your lips, in the thrill of your touch, in the ease of your love.

“Well,” he started, moving his wings to lean into you, pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder. The action caused you to shiver. “I’m a spymaster.” You snorted, “no shit.” A laugh rumbled in his chest. “I’m a bit shy as you well know, I’m quite fond of dancing, I’m—” he hummed the last letter, pausing his thoughts and moving his lips up your neck. “I’m in love with you,” he said biting into the flesh at the juncture of your collarbone and throat, cock hardening at the sound that rolled out of your mouth. “I’m going to take you right here, on this blanket, under the stars.”

You gasped, your hands moved find purchase in the hair at the back of his head, fingers winding through the strands, nails dragging at his scalp. His nose ran the length of your jawline before his lips found yours. He rumbled a small hum the instant his mouth touched your own. At first it was a gentle press, teasing you as he had done today in the kitchen at the House of Wind. The adrenaline racing up your spine made you feel like you might vibrate out of your skin. His hand reached up then, threading broad fingers into your hair as he took the kiss deeper. Tonguing the bottom of your lip until your mouth opened, his tongue stroking your own. Humming with contentment, he tilted your head, deepening the kiss at a new angle that had heat swooping down to your core.

You brought your left hand to his shoulder, fisting your fingers in the fabric there and pulling him closer. He understood your intention and leaned you back into the blanket, pleasure alighting each nerve as his body pressed into your own. He eased up on your lips and began a slow trek south, pulling the strap of your dress down the curve of your shoulder, leaving a love bite there that had you gasping. He kissed down the bust line of the dress, laving his tongue at the swell of your breast. Your breath was coming in pants and you pressed yourself up on your elbows as he moved further south, fingertips tracing the hem of your dress that had risen to the middle of your thigh.

He looked back to you and smiled, mischief playing in his eyes as he ran his hands up your thighs, the slow drag pulling the dress with it. “I’ve been thinking about your cunt for centuries,” he said, his lips on your knee, pressing insistently as they moved north. “I’ve been dreaming of making you come on my tongue since I met you.”

Your breath leaves you in one fell swoop as you feel his tongue at the juncture of your hip and thigh. His mouth was insistent at skin there, tonguing the lace of your panties before pulling them down your legs and off entirely. He picked up a foot, placing it to his chest as he traced the long line of your body with hungry eyes. You were panting already, dressed rucked up around your waist, straps fallen down your arms and breasts heaving. His gaze flowed south and landed on your pink cunt, glistening, begging for him. His eyes went back to your face then, and his titled his head to the side, “Will you let me eat your pretty little cunt?” He asked fingertips tracing the scars of your calf with reverence. He brought your foot up, kissing the inside of the ankle, then nosing his way over your scarred calf, suckling at the skin there. “Please,” he added, eyes moving back to yours as his mouth continued his ministrations.

“Mother above, Azriel,” you breathed and a laughed startled out of you, “you are mouthy.” He chuckled darkly then, nipping at your knee, taking special care to press a gentle kiss at the new scar there. “Is that a no then?” He said softly and your head fell back with a groan, exposing your neck to his view. “As if,” you said, head pulling back up and lolling to the side to rest on your shoulder. “I’ve thought about it too, and if you back out now I will explode.” He laughed again, freely this time, forehead resting on your thigh.

His eyes find yours again, and he kept them there as he traced his lips north. He nosed the juncture of your cunt and inner thigh, running a tongue along your mound. You gasped and eyes narrowed, watching him with rapt attention. He pressed a kiss to the top of your slit and his hands come up to open you to him, pulling the lips apart and tonguing the collected moisture there. Your head fell back as your elbows gave way, falling flat against the blanket.

“You taste better than I imagined,” he said before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. The moan that left you had his hips pushing into the ground to find relief as his cock begged for release. His tongue flicked against your clit as he sucked and hummed. He thought this might become his favorite place in all of Prythian. He thought that every bad thing that had happened in his life seemed insignificant now that he was able to worship freely between your thighs. He traced fingers up and paused to wet them on his tongue, before pushing his middle and ring finger in to the second knuckle, pulling them out and scissoring them back in again. His tongue found your sweet little button for a second time that night and he laved at it, listening to your cries as he pushed you to the brink. Azriel’s life had been a nightmare, but between your thighs, mouth on your cunt, walls fluttering around his fingers, he thought he’d been blessed by the Mother herself.

Your hips rocked up in time with his fingers and you cried as your gut twisted, the coil there tightening. “Az-“ you gasped. “Azriel,” you went a little whiny on the vowels of his name, and your hand reached down to thread your fingers into his hair, nails scratching and tugging the strands. He hummed, the vibration sending shocks up your spine. “Azriel, baby,” you gasped, coming up on an elbow again, rutting your hips into his face as he took you higher. He didn’t let up, suckling at your cunt, fingers finding the spongy spot on the backside of your clit that made the world go blank “Azriel!” you gasped again, hips stuttering out, “Fuck, fuck— oh.” In seconds you were reaching your peak, hips faltering, thighs twitching, toes curling into the hard planes of his back.

He pulled his mouth off of you, pressing kisses to your pubic bone as he moved north up your stomach. He eyes were alight with desire, the male was pure want and you were his last meal. He pulled his fingers from your cunt and trailed them up to rest at your neck as he slotted his body between your thighs and kissed you. The hedonism of tasting yourself on his mouth made you wetter, cunt pressing into the hard line of his cock, still restricted in his trousers. He moaned at the contact, mouth leaving yours to rest his head against your chin and gather himself. The sound sent a pleasurable shock directly to your core. You grasped the hand at your throat and brought his fingers up and to your mouth, tongue laving at them before taking them to the knuckle, and pulling back slow, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking, keeping your eyes on his. He bared his teeth the sight and ground his hard cock into you, the friction on your clit making your thighs twitch.

“My sweet little mate,” he cooed. “Love of my life,” he nosed your cheek, his fingers still in your mouth. “All my dreaming has been put to shame it would seem,” he pulled his fingers from your mouth and replaced them with his tongue, his hands flying to his belt. He growled in struggle and you ventured a laugh. His eyes found yours and his jaw ticked, “keep laughing, sweet girl, I’ll fuck your throat next and you won’t come.” Your eyes went a little wide and a feline grin appeared on your face. “Mouthy indeed,” you said with glee as he finally got the buckle undone and pushed the pants down and off.

His shirt went next and your fingers traced up his exposed arms to his shoulders. “I’ve seen you shirtless a dozen times, and you still take my breath away,” you said softly, a hand resting on his pectoral. He laughed and went a little pink, before he pushed your dress up your body and over your head, leaving you bare. “I’ve always been impressed by your ability to so disarming,” he said, mouth finding the space above your breast as his hands came to cup them, fingers toying with the nipples. “It’s my favorite thing about you, you see me in a way I can’t even see myself,” he followed up.

Your eyes watered at the admission and your hands found his face, bringing his mouth back to yours as you kissed him again, tongue entwining with his. Your hands grasped his shoulders, as your leg found his hip and you pushed him over, onto his back. Your hands came to rest on his chest as you settled your weight on his lower abdomen. You could feel his manhood standing to attention, insistent at the curve of your ass and you reached around to grasp it, pushing your chest out for his greedy eyes. Taking him in long strokes, you ran your hand up and down, circling your thumb around the head. His eyes screwed shut as his breathing shallowed.

“Wanna know a secret, baby?” You offered, rocking your hips in time with your strokes. He whined then, the Lord of Shadows keened a little whine for you that had you ready to come right there. “Last time we hosted a gala, that night before Hybern,” you were panting, “all I could think about was taking you to bed.” His eyes opened and hazel was gone blacked out in pure desire. His hands found your hips and his own began to move in time with you. “I thought about riding you,” you said, twisting your hand in a way that had his breath guttering out of him. “I thought you might love me in the way you looked at me.” His eyes softened and he leaned up, hands tracing up your spine as he pressed kisses to your chest.

“I loved you that night and every night since,” he said before tonguing a nipple and sucking it into his mouth. “That dress you wore, my color, had me hard for a week.” You laughed then removing your hand from his cock and bringing both to his face, so you could kiss him. His hands slipped to your ass then, palming the cheeks as his tongue moved in tandem with yours. When you moved back from him, a string of salvia still connected you two, you reached up to comb fingers through his hair gently.

“I brought you something,” you said quietly, looking to the corner of the quilt where your bag had dropped ages ago. His brow furrowed, confusion showing in his features. “You don’t have to, but I brought some of that tart. If you want,” you offered the statement nervously, as if there was still a chance for rejection. Azriel’s heart went soft and his brain turned to mush.

“You want to accept it?” He questioned, hands sliding up your back and to your waist. You smiled and looked at him incredulously, “Of course I want to accept it, it feels like I’ve waited a millennia for you.” You’d laughed a bit and that feeling of home raced through him again. Gods, he was fucked.

You leaned off his lap, pulling the strap of your bag to you and unzipped it. There, packaged in a little glass container, lay a small slice of the berry tart you’d fretted over earlier in the day. “Nesta made some stupid comment about ‘cooking’ when I’d asked where you were,” you laughed in hindsight at the female’s leading words. “She knew because Cassian knew, he helped me with the food and candles,” Azriel murmured pushing your hair up and over your shoulder.

He pulled the container from your grasp then and opened it before picking the pastry up with his fingers, the same fingers that had been inside you minutes ago. Eyes on yours he took the first bite, your heart thrumming as the golden thread of your bond lit up like the sunrise. His eyes never left yours as he consumed the pastry in four bites, swallowing and pulling his fingers into his mouth at the remaining sweetness there.

The bond between you two was shining, strong and thrumming with love. ‘Hi,’ you tried, your thoughts reaching out to him. He smiled, laughing freely, and his voice came through clearly, ‘Hi, Little One.’ You choked out a laugh, eyes watering as you leaned forward to kiss him, tasting the berries on his tongue. ‘Can I make love to my mate now?’ He questioned down the bond and you laughed again. His hands were already tracing your hips as you leaned forward, hand reaching underneath to guide him into your cunt. Lowering yourself down, you rocked forward once then twice in order to take him to the hilt.

Mother above, he was big. His cock was thick and filled you wholly, pushing against your cervix making your eyes flutter in pleasure. You thought of the comment Mor had made about wingspan once decades ago and you heard him laugh, “I’m flattered, truly,” he said playfully, reading your thoughts and nipping at your shoulder.

You rose up again and set to riding him slowly, hips moving in long strokes as his hands traced your ass, pulling at the flesh there in time with your movements. You gave a experimental squeeze of your walls, and he keened a loud moan that had you speeding up your flow. “You keep that up, Little One and I won’t last,” he panted at your throat. “That’s rather the point,” you laughed breathlessly, your own hand moving to cup your breast, the other sliding down to circle your clit. His eyes traced the view greedily, moving down to the point where you connected, watching your cunt take him in full, his cock glistening with your shared wetness. He bared his teeth at the sight, a rumble lighting in his chest.

Just as your walls began to flutter with your impending orgasm, he grasped you and flipped you to your back, pulling your hands from your body and entwining your fingers with his own on each side of your head. He ground his pelvis in deep and your legs hitched higher around his waist. “Azriel, fucking Gods,” you called out at the switch in angle, the tip of his cock grinding into your cervix. He hummed at your throat, teeth marking you there as his hips pulled out and pushed in, grinding each time he bottomed out into you. His wings flared behind him and you thought you’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

“You take me so well, my love,” he panted, “you were made for me.” You whined then, cunt fluttering around him as he bottomed out deep and held it there, grinding his pubic bone into your clitoris. The pleasure raced up your spine and you thought you’d never be able to leave this place, might have to keep him inside you forever. He growled, reading your thoughts. “You want me to fuck this cunt forever?” He asked aloud leaning up, pulling his hands from yours.

You whined at the loss, but the sound died as he pulled your legs up his waist to his shoulders, kissing the scarred calf. He drew his cock out, only to slam back in. “Fuck,” you moaned out, voice going up two octaves. “You want me between your thighs for the rest of my days?” He said again, hips moving faster, your hands moving to your tits as they bounced from the impact. His eyes watched the movement and he bared his teeth again, turning his head to bite into the flesh of your calf.

“Azriel!” You called out again, pleasure zipped up your spine and you felt your stomach tighten. “Az, baby, I’m so close.” He chuckled darkly. “Be a good girl and come on my cock,” he said as his fingers traced down your leg to find your clit, rubbing the bundle in quick, timed circles. “Az- I-,” you barely got the words out before your orgasm overtook you, a long moan exiting your mouth as your cunt tightened around him, he ground into you and worked you through it, before dropping your legs back to his hips and pistoning deeper.

“My sweet mate,” he gasped at the skin of your throat, mouth tracing up to find yours, hands finding purchase on your thighs as he pulled you open, allowing him dive deeper. “My darling love,” he moaned and his tongue moved with yours, your hips pushing up to meet his thrusts, walls fluttering against his velvet length with the remnants of your orgasm.

You ventured your hand up his shoulder to the base of a wing and traced your fingers up the membrane to the bone. His eyes twisted shut, and he keened a low primal whine that had your cunt ready to come again. At the tightening of your walls, he groaned dark and deep, shadows seeping from him, as he pushed in, grinding against the innermost portion of you. His hips pulled out slightly and then pushed back in as his cock kicked, come spurting against your walls. He panted against your throat as his hands released their hold on your thighs and moved up your body before grasping your throat. He moved up to lean over you and his eyes found your own. He gave an experimental thrust of his hips and your eyes widened. Fucking Cauldron, he was still hard.

He laughed then, nuzzling at your mouth as he nipped at your bottom lip. “I’m giving you five,” his voice was deeper than you’d ever heard it, “and then I’m eating my come from your cunt and fucking you until the sun comes up.”

You gasped out a laugh as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. ‘They call it frenzy for a reason,’ you thought, kissing along his cheekbone and to his mouth. Gods, you were fucked.

2K notes · View notes

peachigummi · 3 months

Text

here's a lesson ✎ mattheo riddle.

summary: classic mattheo coming to terms with how he feels about reader. slytherins are having a formal party - and guess what! someone else asks reader to the party, making him jealous!! mattheo tells them it’s a bad idea. yet, they still decide to go through with it. he obviously takes the opportunity to smugly watch from afar while trying to have fun himself. he’ll teach you a thing or two about what happens when you don’t listen to him 🤭🤭.

pairing: tutor / best friend! mattheo x fem! reader (one use of “y/n”)

warnings: mainly banter, mild jealousy (aka not too insanely toxic), mentions of alcohol/weed, spanking, spitting (one mention of it), fingering, unprotected piv, missionary (if it’s hard to imagine the position), pillow princess action ✨ (I’ll say this again, personally, ME, personally, me and I, could not ever let this slide when it comes to Mattheo, im too feral.), overstimulation, dacryphilia (i do think our dear matty would kinda really be into it), choking, eh kind of edging, praise!, creampie 🫣🤭🤭

note: im very sorry for not keeping my word about putting this out before my trip with my buds. althoughhhh i brought my laptop with me and here i am c: working on this for yall. i really hope you enjoy this, its a lengthy read because i just love tension so much.

word count: 11k+ (partially why this took so long to post im so sorry. lots of plot)

(trust i will never perfectly proofread my work at this point)

mattheo told me that he expects you to reblog, like & comment so you better do it. do you want to make him mad? (BWAHAHA jk...unless 🤨)

°. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂

Mattheo and you were seated on one of the sunny courtyard tables, papers and books displayed all out on the flat surface. You were distracted by your phone, paying little focus on the task at hand. You let out small laughs and smiles, Mattheo was watching you for a while now wondering what the hell was wrong with you. You would snort and shake your head, sighing to yourself. He didn’t like that someone or something was distracting you from him and your studies..of course the studies were more important despite listing himself first. He leaned over to grab your chin, forcing you to turn and face up at him, “pay attention.” Mattheo hissed.

You couldn’t help but blush as he did this, making you look into his deep brown eyes, “I’m sorry Mattheo…”

A small smirk appears on his face when he notices you blush, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. “You should be. You’re too distracted on that damn phone.” He continues to hold your chin in place.

“I was just asked out on a date…I mean I think it’s a date…” you move his hand away from your face, going back to your phone. You scroll up on the message thread and push it toward him to look over.

Mattheo’s smirk vanished and was replaced with a look of irritation, first when you pulled away from him, and secondly, after reading the message exchange. He pushes your phone back at you, looking at your eyes with annoyance. “Why would he do that? Why would you say yes?” He asked with a snarky tone, clearly not pleased about you being asked out by someone else.

Mattheo had been your tutor at first, but eventually you both became close friends through the forced proximity. Your grades were much higher because of him, and despite not needing him as much for that purpose - you both still hung out with each other. To be truthful and completely honest with yourself, it was because you had a fat crush on him…but it never turned into anything more. So you just enjoyed being his friend.

You decided to jump back into the dating scene after the unsuccessful attempt (as if you even tried confess to Mattheo and turn your relationship into something more; you needed him to make the first move), but it was a struggle because well…you were with Mattheo most of the time. At this point people thought that you had an open relationship, where he’s the one going on dates with different girls and not you. People didn’t approach you, not romantically. So naturally, you were in a state of giggling surprise when you were asked out.

“It’s Charlie…do you know him? Yay big, muscular, dark headed, dreamy bedroom eyes…he’s a Ravenclaw.” You describe him while showing Mattheo goofy photos of Charlie that he had sent you.

He clenched his jaw, clearly not liking the way you described him. He pushed your phone away again, not wanting to see more of the guy. “Yeah, I know him. He’s in my class.” He said coldly, looking at your eyes with irritation.

“Really - what’s he like in it?” You leaned into Mattheo, excited for more information on Charlie.

“Why would you want to go out on a date with him?” Mattheo ignored your question.

“Why not? It’s been so long since I’ve been with someone…” you rolled your eyes, “you wouldn’t understand since you’re always going out.”

He huffed as soon as you mentioned him going on dates. It wasn’t exactly untrue, but the fact that you were going out on a date with someone else now annoyed him more than he’d like to admit. “Because you could do so much better than him and besides, who says I always go on dates?” Mattheo crossed his arms, looking slightly defensive.

Yeah - like I could be dating you!

You let out a sigh. “Mattheo don’t even play games with me right now. You literally went on a date with my childhood best friend last week! And you knew how much that pissed me off.”

He couldn’t help but wince slightly as you brought that up, clearly regretting it. “Okay fine. And? That was last week.”

“I heard from a little owl that Margie has been begging you to take her to her grandfather’s funeral as a date!” You blurt out almost laughing, “can you imagine how insane that sounds!? Bless her grandfather, may he rest in peace…but goddamn Mattheo, these girls are shameless when it comes to you.”

He rolled his eyes, he had to admit, he couldn’t believe just how desperate some girls were when it came to him. “Yeah, don’t remind me. I’ve told her multiple times that I don't want to go with her, but she just won't listen. She’s persistent as hell!”

You nudged his side playfully, “you’ve got to admit it’s kind of funny though.” You smile at him. It was easy to get him frustrated, but at the end of the day you didn’t want him to feel that way. It was bad on the body to be so angry all the time.

He groaned, but couldn't hold back his chuckle. “Yeah I suppose it is a little funny…and annoying. Mostly annoying.” Mattheo said in a slightly lighter tone. While he did love to have girls practically throwing themselves at him all the time, it did get to be too much sometimes.

“But yeah…Charlie asked me if I wanted to go to our own Slytherin party…like duh I was already going!” You paused going back to your notes, comparing them to Mattheo’s, “I mean could you imagine me turning him down and still having to see him in my own common room?”

He huffed again, not liking how you brought the conversation back to Charlie. “Well you could’ve at least pretended to think about it. Don’t want him to get the wrong idea.” He really didn’t like the idea of you going to this party with him, but he didn’t want to come off as too possessive either.

“Wrong idea? I think I like him. He’s funny…smart..and seems nice enough.” You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling down at your notes, “no one ever approaches me…they’re too afraid of you.”

Mattheo’s eyes narrow slightly when you admit this, and when you list what his good qualities were. He clenched his jaw, “What, you mean you actually like him? Really?” There was a hint of jealousy in his voice that he couldn’t quite completely hide.

“Oh c’mon Matty, it’s not a crime.” You put your hand behind his back, rubbing circles to calm him down. “Let me just take a chance. If things go bad then you can rub it in my face okay? You can tell me that I was ~dumb~ that you were ~right~” You say in a singsong voice, knowing how much he liked teasing you when it came to showing how much better he was than you.

He couldn’t fight staying irritated when you touched him like that. It was slowly calming him down, “fine, fine. I’ll let you have a chance with this guy.” He spits one last time. “If things go bad I am most definitely going to rub it in your face. I guess I’ll have to go to this party to watch you.”

“That’s my boy.” You put your head on his shoulder before returning to your notes, “Now how do I pronounce this incantation?”

Once you finished your studying together, you both walked to the great hall to have dinner. You were both back to your usual joking selves. You sat down at the Slytherin table, there was a louder buzz than usual, everyone seemed excited for the weekend to start.

“I guess everyone’s excited for tomorrow.” Mattheo said, watching you sit down first before he did.

“I have this new dress just for the event too! I love how there’s a solid theme this time around. It’ll be fun to see everyone dressed up all spiffy.” You say excitedly, being easily influenced by everyone’s energy. You grabbed Mattheo’s plate, serving him his food first before grabbing something for yourself.

“Oh, a new dress? I bet it looks good on you.” He smiled at your excitement, but he was still feeling slightly annoyed and worried at your choice of date. He tried not showing it. He watched as you served him his food, his eyes unable to hide his affection he had for you. You always took good care of him. He took a deep breath before speaking. “I don't want anything bad to happen to you at this party. I know you’re excited and everything, but just be careful alright? I’ll be there watching but…I’m going to be outnumbered. There’s going to be lots of people and not all of them are good.”

You notice his change. You set his plate down in front of him and feel his forehead with the back of your hand. “Mattheo are you okay?”

He batted your hand away when you checked his forehead, clearly not liking being fussed over. “I’m fine. I just…don't trust other guys around you. They’re animals and they might try something with you, especially since you’re going to wear this new dress that you’re so excited about…” He could just imagine the looks you’d be getting already.

“Oh stop it Mattheo. I appreciate your concern, but it has nothing to go with the dress. Literally everyone is going to be dressed up, it’s going to be fancy. Here, if it makes you feel any better I can show you my dress beforehand for your approval.” You try hard to keep yourself from rolling your eyes, Mattheo had good intentions but he didn’t need to worry.

He smirked, he liked the idea of being the one to approve your dress, even though he knew he was being overbearing and overprotective. “Yeah, I think that would make me feel better. I mean, I need to make sure the dress is appropriate and not too revealing, you know?” He couldn’t help but relish having that power over you.

“It really isn’t though, it’s perfect and beautiful. It shows the perfect amount of skin to make it fun.” You bite your finger and wink at him. You took your own plate now, choosing your usuals.

Mattheo watched as you filled your plate, his eyes unable to resist roaming over your body for a moment as you leaned over the table, “perfect amount of skin, huh? I’ll be the judge of that.”

You knew that Mattheo was staring at you, so you wiggle your hips a little before sitting down. You smack the side of his head when he continues gawking, “tame yourself, Riddle.” He chuckled when you did this. He was going to make a snarky remark when Theodore came over and interrupted you both.

“GUYS PLEASE!” Theodore said, putting an arm around each of you, “hurry up and finish eating, I need help with the common room set up.”

“Damn it, Theo, can’t you just wait? We’ll help you set up the common room, just give us a break for now.” He didn’t like being interrupted when he was enjoying your presence.

You look at him, “Teddy, we still have a full day. Don’t be so worried. You’ll have more hands to help you now that everyone is done with Friday classes.” Theodore wanted to lead this event, he had complained for too long that Slytherins needed to reestablish a sense of powerful class and elegance. “You’re looking pale. Come sit, eat. You can’t miss your own party.” You pull Theodore down to sit in between Mattheo and you.

Theodore slumped down in the seat, grumbling about how stressed he was about the party. “I just want everything to be perfect, okay? This party needs to be one to be remembered, we can’t be known for having sleazy ones. Ugh…who am I kidding, knowing our house, everything is going to turn out terrible -”

“Teddy, no it’s not.” You take his plate, filling it with different proteins to give him energy. “Look around, everyone is excited. They’ll all be more than willing to help. We all know this party is going to be different from the rest.” You hug him after setting his plate down.

He looks around the Great Hall, feeling the buzz. “I guess you’re right.” He looked down at his plate and began to eat, taking your advice to give himself some energy.

You couldn't help but ruffle his hair knowing how stressed he was, “please take care of yourself okay? We’ll help. Mattheo and I will go with you after this.” Theo didn’t mind the hair ruffle, he actually cracked a smile at your concern for him and the fact that you were trying to take care of him when he wasn’t. If it wasn’t for Mattheo’s not so subtle possession over you, Theo would have made you his by now.

You lean backwards over to slap Mattheo’s arm subtly so he could say some words of encouragement.

“Damn it, woman, quit slapping me.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, rubbing his arm where you had slapped him, giving you a mock-hurt look. You glare at him, go on say something nice! “Alright, alright. Look, Theo, you’ve always have great ideas for stuff like this. This party will be a success, okay? Just relax and take it easy, we want to see you at your own party tomorrow.” He was sounding a bit mocking, but he was sincere.

You smile at him, pleased with his words.

Draco suddenly popped up in front of the group, “which should I wear…!” He looked nearly as panicked as Theodore did. The three of you looked at the two suits he was holding up. They were literally identical down to the cufflinks. You wanted to snort.

“Seriously, Draco? Those suits look exactly the same. Just close your eyes and pick one, geez.” Mattheo spoke up, finding it amusing how ridiculous Draco was over such a trivial thing. You were trying your hardest to hold in your laugh, your mouth was cupped by your hand.

“You guys suck.” Draco said before making his way to Astoria. We watched as she looked just as confused as we did, but she pointed at one of them. He visibly looked immediately relaxed. Draco was hopeless sometimes.

“Seriously, Draco can be such a drama queen sometimes. He couldn’t even pick an outfit without needing Astoria’s help. He’s so dependent on her sometimes.”

“I kinda love that for them though…” You stared at the two love birds before returning to your plate, rolling the grape around with your fork.

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, giving you a smirk. “You’re such a hopeless romantic. Always swooning over other couples and their lovey-dovey moments.” He felt a little pang of guilt, for not allowing another man to get close to you so you could experience that. We shook his head when he thought about that, trying to get rid of the feeling.

“Shut up Mattheo.” You stabbed the grape, putting it into your mouth begrudgingly. As you did so you looked toward the Ravenclaw table, seeing that Charlie was already staring at you. You wondered for how long he was watching you. You blushed and waved.

Mattheo let out a soft sigh, he enjoyed knowing he could rile you up with his teasing. He followed your gaze and saw you looking at Charlie, who was staring at you lovesick. “Oh great, there’s your lover boy, looking at you like a lost puppy.” He snickered, hating it.

You dropped your smile when you pried your eyes off Charlie, “blah blah blah.” Mattheo was lucky Theodore was still silently munching on his food in between you two, or it would have earned him another smack on the head or an ear pull. “And who are you taking as your date?”

He just shrugged, “I literally made the decision to go to this party once I found out you were going… with someone. I will have to just go solo.” He said with a smirk, clearly enjoying the idea of being able to flirt with other girls without the constraints of being tied down to a date, “that way I can have freedom to do whatever I want.” He felt that pang of guilt again for his hypocrisy.

“Fair enough.” You knew how much he liked to flirt, it boosted his ego. “Just don’t get beat up when you hit on the wrong girl. I won't be there to stop that fight, I wouldn’t want to ruin my hair and dress.”

He laughed, amused with your warning. “Please, doll. I know how to pick the right girls to flirt with. I’m not worried about getting beat up by their partners. They always fall for my charm.” He said, clearly confident with his ability to charm anyone, even those with jealous partners.

“Who falls for your charm? The girl or their partner?” You laugh.

He didn’t like your sarcastic response, “Oh ha ha. Very funny. Obviously, I meant the girls. But let’s be honest, there have been a few of their partners who have fallen for me as well. I’m just that irresistible, you know?”

“Actually…I do believe that. All hail king Mattheo.” You move your hands up and down in his direction.

“Can you two shut up?” Theodore blurted with his mouth full of food, “I’m trying to think here.”

You both stared at Theodore, then looked at each other one more time sharing a silent agreement. Mattheo smacked Theo’s back while you pulled on his hair. Theodore groaned in surprise. Before he could properly react, the two of you had bolted out of the great hall.

Mattheo and you made it down to the dungeons, having ran the whole way. You pointed at Mattheo to say the passcode, you were too out of breath.

He laughed, enjoying your flustered out-of-breath state and how you were leaning against a wall. Clearly not conditioned like he was. He was hardly winded, “Viper’s Den.” Mattheo opened the door for you, you followed him inside.

“Wooaahhh! What the hell does Teddy need help with? This looks amazing.” You looked around the heavily decorated room. You twirled around taking in the sight, there was no way this was the same common room.

Mattheo stared at your reaction with a smile, barely noticing the room. He had to peel his eyes away from you when you stopped twirling. “He outdid himself.”

He looked around nodding in approval, “Oh! Come over here!” He beckons you over to a corner of the room. He gestures over to a table that had a clear covering over it. It had an array of sweet-smelling treats. There were honey buns, chocolate cakes, berry tarts, and everything in between. It was like a little piece of sweet heaven. He began to peel back the covering when you slapped his hand.

“Stop it. Wait for tomorrow night.”

“You’re no fun. I just wanted a small nibble, we didn’t even get to have dessert at the great hall.”

You look around again, there was an identical table. “All that’s missing is the drinks…you know I heard another rumor that those Hufflepuffs want to help out too with some herbs. If you catch my drift.” You smile at him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“Maybe we can get high again! It’s been so long!” You laughed at the last time Mattheo and you partook in their drugs. You had a sleepover in Mattheo’s dorm for three days straight. Surviving on just water and sleep.

He nodded in agreement, clearly remembering the same thing. “Oh yeah, that was fun. I would love to have another sleepover like that again.” His grin got bigger as he reminisced. He thought about how you both slept on his floor together because the bed was too small and he kept falling off of it. He remembered you being so attached to him that night, being a needy mess. But he was all for it. He couldn’t wait to blow the smoke into each other’s mouths once again.

The door opened, snapping him out of the train of thought, it was Theodore. He looked annoyed but glad to see you both there. “Good. Here’s what I need you two to do.” He started to list things off. Mattheo groaned, but got to work, knowing the promise you both made to him.

You got out of the shower, it felt good. It was an intense session. You used your best soaps, exfoliators, you shaved, you slathered on a scented lotion that had a light shimmer to it. You went to town manicuring your nails, curling your hair, and doing your makeup. You would have normally been tired of all this work, but this event was special for you. It was a chance to actually dress up for once and pamper yourself.

You took your dress, carefully folding it over your arm. You took your heels in another hand, going out of your dorm and locking it. You headed the opposite direction of the hall towards Mattheo’s room.

Mattheo was in his dorm, getting ready for the party too. He was carefully putting on his tie in the mirror, making sure it was perfect. He looked himself over, admiring his reflection with a smirk. He heard a knock on the door, and he called out, “who is it?”

There were people starting to scurry around between dorms too, so it wasn’t out of place that you were standing outside of his. There was a small commotion downstairs as people made their way into the Slytherin common room meeting with their dates and friends.

“Matty, it's me. Open up, I'm here to fulfill my promise.” You couldn’t help but lightly laugh at the fact he wanted to make sure your dress was ‘appropriate’ enough.

He had been waiting for you to come by, “Oh, doll. You’re finally here, huh?” He made his way over to the door and opened it, revealing you there.

You push past Mattheo in order to enter his room. You didn’t bother waiting for permission to enter. You set your dress down on his bed, putting the heels on the floor.

Mattheo laughed, enjoying your eagerness to get ready for the party. He closed the door behind you, locking it to ensure privacy. “Someone’s in a hurry, aren’t we?” He teased watching you, looking over your shoulder to get a glimpse of your dress.

“I mean not anymore no, I was actually taking my sweet time.”

He sensed your annoyance immediately, “what did that jackass do?” Mattheo went to stand right behind you, trying to mask his rising anger at the possibilities. He took a strand of your hair, admiring how soft and perfect the curl was. It bounced lightly in his hand.

You shrug. “Charlie messaged me saying that he’ll be here in like two hours-” You weren’t able to hide your disappointment, especially with Mattheo who could read you easily even without legilimency. “-even though the party is basically starting now.”

Mattheo’s smirk faded as you mentioned that, looking away from your curl in his hand he scoffs, “two hours? Seriously? Isn’t he supposed to be your date? What’s his stupid excuse?”

“Beats me.” You turn around to face your best friend, you couldn’t help but let a smile erupt on your face as you really noticed him. “Mattheo..!” You whistled, “you clean up real good.”

Just that easily, his smirk returned, clearly enjoying your compliment. “Yeah, I know. I look damn good, don’t I?” He said just as cockily. He made a show of straightening out his tie and smoothing his hair down. He had already been pleased with how he looked, but it felt even better hearing it come out of your mouth.

He went with an all black outfit, even his shoes were surprisingly clean and polished. You reached out to him, putting your hands on his shoulders. You inspected his front, flipped him, checked out his back. His toned muscles were peeking out from under his dress shirt. It was amazing, his wide shoulders and small waist. His biceps were being contained just right. You smoothed the fabric down. You turned him to face you again, feeling proud.

Mattheo had let you inspect him without a peep. Enjoying the way you ran your hands over his body, admiring every single detail of his outfit. He tried to act aloof and nonchalant, but he couldn’t help feeling flattered by your attention. “Having fun, are you? Admiring my good looks, princess?”

“Actually yes. I have nothing snarky to say.” You laugh, “okay okay maybe one-” Mattheo raised his eyebrows for you to continue, “-are you sure they didn’t have maybe a half size larger for your dress shirt? Or did you purposely go smaller? You look massive..”

“Oh, shut up. This shirt looks perfect on me.” He wasn’t actually offended, he enjoyed the banter with you “…But yeah I did go for a smaller size. Clearly it was a good decision if I have your attention.”

“Yeah yeah whatever.” You look at his hair, he had slicked it back, but you could still see the ends of his hair wanting to curl back. You loved his curly hair. He looked so…so hot right now. Thank God, you were starting to take those private occlumency lessons with Professor Snape so this idiot couldn’t read your mind. Plus you made him promise you to not enter your mind after a mishap two years ago.

He smiled as you noticed your gaze lingering on his hair. He ran a hand through his hair, slightly messing it up, causing some of the curls to revert back to their usual state. “What, you'd rather have my hair like this, huh?”

“God, fuck yes. Mattheo thank you for doing that. It looks much more natural on you. The pomade does help define them much more though.” You smile up at him too, “anyway!” You turn back around to face your dress, but in reality you started to feel yourself blush like you were running a fever.

Mattheo noticed the hint of a blush appearing on your cheeks just before you turned away from him, “are you blushing? Is someone a little flustered, hmmm?” He teased.

You choose to ignore his comment. “I’m going to use your bathroom, I don’t trust you enough to just close your eyes for this.” You take your dress and heels into his bathroom and close the door quickly.

With a pout, “Hey, I'm totally trustworthy! I swear I won't peek-” He began to say before hearing you lock the door. There was no point in protesting.

You undressed, leaving your pajamas on his bathroom floor. You slipped quickly yet carefully into the black satin dress. You had forgotten that it was a corset back and would need help clasping it together. You held the back together with your hands, admiring the vision. It was a long gown, with a slit running up your right leg and stopping just below your hip. You put on a matching black set of heels. You thought you looked very pretty, a rarity on your behalf. You made sure your hair and makeup were still fine. You went to crack open the bathroom door, taking a deep breath, still holding the back of the dress together with a single hand so it wouldn’t slip off. “Matty?”

Mattheo was already waiting patiently outside of the bathroom door, drumming his fingers on the wall as he tried to ignore the image of you undressing just on the other side. He perked up when he heard your voice calling out from behind the door, a smile reappeared on his face. “Yes, doll? You done yet?” He was unable to keep the eagerness out of his tone, so he went and put his hand around the door, trying to make you open it wider so he could see all of you.

“I actually need your help…” You let him open the door, “I forgot this was a corset, and not a zip up. I need you to clap me in.” You laugh, “I mean clasp.”

He laughed at your little Freudian slip, he was amused at how you got those two words confused. He wondered what you really wanted, but he also pushed that thought back too. He raised a single eyebrow as he took in the sight of you. His eyes widening in surprise at how stunning you looked. The dress hugged your curves in all the right places, and the split on the right leg gave him a glimpse of your smooth skin. “Damn princess, you look…beautiful.” He said this, his voice growing a bit huskier as he approached you. He pulled you by your waist so you would come out of the bathroom and into the well lit bedroom instead.

“Thank you…I think so too..” You blushed as he complimented you, letting him pull you closer to him. Mattheo turned you over so your back was turned toward him.

“I’m very happy you think the same.” He gently gathered your hair, pulling it to one side so it was out of the way.

“It might be a little tricky.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure I can handle it.” He moved your hands out of the way, so the dress split open, stopping at the small of your back. You held the front of the dress up to keep it from falling. Mattheo nearly started to salivate at the sight of your bare back to him, how it exposed more of your skin to him, he was loving the view. He hated having to fasten you into the dress instead of just slipping it off and skipping the party. Mattheo mentally slapped himself, to stop thinking about you in that way.

“Everything okay?” You say, feeling a bit self conscious as Mattheo paused for a moment. He cleared his throat. He started at the bottom of the corset, fastening you in carefully. His hands graze your bare skin occasionally, sending shivers down your spine. He made sure to not pull too tightly, asking you throughout the process if it was enough. “I don’t know if I should be mad or grateful that you know how to do this.” You close your eyes at the feeling of him working on you.

“Why would you be mad? I have a lot of hidden talents.” He finished up the corset, taking a step back to admire his handiwork, “there we go. Looks good and perfect…and secure.”

You let your hands fall to the side, trusting that it wouldn’t fall down now. You gave a small twirl to Mattheo, ending it with a curtsey. He kept a smile at you, his eyes turning a shade darker. You look at the mirror admiring how you looked now that you were finished. You readjusted your hair. “So I'm assuming that this dress is appropriate enough for this event…for you?”

“Appropriate? You look amazing. You’re going to put every other witch at this party to shame. You look like a true goddamn princess, one that I want all to myself.”

You felt your heart skip at his words, it felt different. It was all you could ever ask from him, God if only he liked me back, you thought. If only he wasn’t just saying this because he was your best friend. You go to wrap your arms around him, giving him a tender hug. He wrapped his arms around your waist in return, pulling you tighter into him. Mattheo closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the feeling of your body pressed against his. Your sweet scent was driving him crazy.

He buried his face in your hair, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within him. There was no denying how much he cared for you, but he was still struggling to acknowledge his true feelings for you.

You gave his biceps a gentle squeeze, pulling back, “shall we head down?” You smile at him.

He nods in agreement, returning your smile with a smirk of his own. “It’ll be an honor…and respecfully, fuck your ‘date’ for not being here, but also I wouldn’t want it any other way. To just walk you down, is an honor in itself.” Mattheo held his arm for you to take, offering to escort you to the party downstairs.

You roll your eyes, but you don't want to admit that you agree with him. You started to have your own doubts about Charlie, maybe it was kind of stupid to think…you could..fall in love with someone else. You had to at least give him a chance..right? You ended up taking Mattheo’s arm, linking elbows, while you placed your other hand on his forearm.

Mattheo could sense your uncertainty in your date, he wanted to just flat out tell you again that he wasn’t worth it. He couldn’t wait to rub it in your face, but deep down he didn’t want to see you hurt. He covered your hand with his own. He was cherishing this moment, feeling a small sense of triumph.

The party was already in full motion by the time you went down the stairs. People were going around laughing and dancing. The refreshment table was already nearly half way empty. You had to wonder if people showed up earlier than expected out of the excitement. You felt people stare at you and Mattheo. His grip on you was gentle, yet firm and possessive. Mattheo himself could feel, and see the envy, coming off the people as their eyes roamed over you. You could say the same thing, but you thought the looks were because you had Mattheo’s attention, and he was dressed up as well.

You both walked over to the drink table, each of you grabbing a glass of whatever was closest, “cheers to a good evening.”

He clicked his drink to yours, “Cheers.” He tilted the drink into his mouth, still scanning the party as he did so. He was mentally taking note of those eyes that lingered on you for too long.

“Mattheo, I know this is supposed to be a party…but can I ask a lesson from you right now?” You ask, setting down your empty glass. Already feeling the warmth from the drink start to take effect.

With an eyebrow raised again, intrigued by the idea of teaching you something in this setting, “A lesson, huh? Sure what do you want to learn?”

“Can you teach me how to dance?” You blush, “I know just how ridiculous that sounds but I usually just sit around and smoke at parties…so this feels new.”

He laughed, but not in a mean way. He found it surprisingly cute how you requested this, especially considering your usual party habits. “It’s not ridiculous at all. I'd be happy to teach you.” He held out his hand to you, gesturing for you to take it. “May I have this dance?”

You took his hand, “I like this version of Mattheo, so elegant and charming.” You cooed playfully, following him onto the dance floor.

“Careful doll, compliment me too much and I might start to think you actually like me. Romantically.” He teased, unable to resist throwing a playful jab.

You couldn’t say anything to that, you only blushed further, if only you knew how much I really liked you Mattheo, so ironic of you to say that.

Mattheo was loving the effect his words had on you, “What, lost for words now? Something tells me there’s no comeback for that one?”

“So…so what’s the first step?” You change the subject back to the lesson on dancing.

He shook his head, but understood you wanting to change the subject. “First step to the classic ballroom position - holding each other firmly.” He adjusted his grip on your waist and took your hand in his, positioning you in the correct dance position.

“Okay, easy enough.” You looked into his eyes, one hand on his shoulder. “I swear I was probably born with eight left feet, I’ve never thought to dance.”

He chuckled again, finding your honesty endearing. “Don’t worry, princess. You’re in good hands. Just follow my lead, okay? We’ll start with the basic steps. First, step backward with your left foot as I step forward with my right.” He gently guided your movements, slowly moving in unison with him.

You couldn’t help but look down at your feet as he began to show you more steps. You started to get the hang of it, only after a couple accidental steps on his own feet. Though you didn’t apologize so much since he was finding it so fun to tease you earlier.

Mattheo was just so stricken with you, he would only chuckle and sigh as each time you stepped on him, finding your clumsiness adorable. “Thanks for ruining my shoes.”

“I’m doing it on purpose at this point.” You look back at him smiling. He feigned a look of shock, pretending to be offended.

“Ah so you’re doing it intentionally? That’s playing dirty, doll.” He spun you around before bringing you close to him. You rested your head on his chest, you could finally reach it comfortably with the height the heels gave you. You closed your eyes, listening to his heart.

His breath hitched, he liked the feeling of you being so close to him. The way your body fit against his perfectly. He dug his fingers deeper into your sides as he dipped you backwards, using it as an excuse to get even closer. His face was dangerously close to yours.

You forgot how to breathe for a second as you watched Mattheo. You noticed a slight change in him, something only you could notice. He had gotten…nervous. He pulled you both up right again. When he did this you noticed Charlie standing behind him, clearing his throat. “Sorry for being late… My roommate had an urgent matter. I came as fast as I could.”

Mattheo’s body tensed as he heard Charlie’s voice behind him. His grip on you tightened, protectiveness seeping into his touch as he reluctantly pulled you back away from him. He hated that he actually ended up showing, having to interrupt the moment he was sharing with you. He plastered a fake smile on his face as he turned to face Charlie, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Ah Charlie. Finally decided to grace us with your presence huh?”

Your date gave Mattheo a confused look, he didn’t seem to really be intimidated by him. Which made sense, if he even had made the effort to ask you out on this date knowing full well he would have to face The Mattheo Riddle. A fact other guys were immediately put off by. “Yeaahh..” He scratched the back of his head, “um thanks for keeping Y/N company for me.” He let out a small laugh, offering his arm to you just as Mattheo had done.

Mattheo didn’t bother hiding his annoyance at Charlie’s casual demeanor, especially as he offered his arm to you. His jaw clenched visibly, fighting the urge to snap at him. He kept his composure the best he could, maintaining the strained yet police facade. “No problem.” He said tersely, his gaze flickering between you and Charlie with a hint of possessiveness.

Almost reluctantly you go to take Charlie’s arm. He smiled down at you, he brought forward his other arm that was hidden behind his back this whole time. “I brought this for you…” it was a single rose.

You smiled while taking it, “thank you, this is beautiful.” You look back at Mattheo, “I’ll talk to you later? Enjoy yourself Matty.”

Oh how Mattheo wanted to bash at Charlie’s face with his fists. He watched as you thanked him for the rose, his eyes darkened with jealousy and frustration, that wasn’t even your favorite flower, not even in your favorite color. How could some jackass not bother to learn what your favorite flower and color was. He wanted to tear you away from him.

“Yeah, enjoy yourself man. Thanks again for warming her up for me.” Charlie said to Mattheo, pulling you away from where you were originally dancing. You let him guide you away, but couldn’t help looking back, seeing that Mattheo was already facing his back towards you both. You looked down as his fists were clenched, knuckles turning white. You couldn’t help but feel guilt.

Charlie was just like a prince, he was actually really sweet and thoughtful past the lateness. Plus, his excuse made you think that he was loyal to those he cares about, to tend to their needs first than his. You both had danced to a couple of songs (thanks to Mattheo for teaching you). It was fun. Whenever Charlie spun you around or hugged you close to him, you couldn't help but look around for Mattheo subtly. You saw him enjoying himself, he was talking to a couple of girls.

In reality Mattheo’s eyes scanned the room for you as well, he would only pretend to focus on the conversation he was having with the girls. Barely making an effort, and yet they were in hysterics laughing. It kind of annoyed him how easy it was. His focus kept drifting to your location. He hated seeing you with Charlie. He hated seeing you in someone else’s arms, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Not yet, at least.

Between songs Charlie would grab a drink, and it was starting to really add up. He began to get sloppy and step on your toes. He’d apologize but do it immediately after. You stopped dancing, telling him that you both should just sit down for a while. So you guided him to an empty couch.

Mattheo watched as you and Charlie made your way to the couch, a mix of relief and frustration coursing through his veins. Finally there was some distance between the two of you, but he didn’t like that your date was making a fool of himself as he kept drinking. He was leaning against a wall, keeping a watchful eye on you from afar. The girls by his side kept rambling and rambling and he was only paying attention to you, scoffing at the state Charlie was in. It was getting ridiculous. The girls rolled their eyes at Mattheo, hating that he wasn’t engaging in the conversation so they left him.

As the night went on, you began to like Charlie less and less. The more his drinking caught up to him, the more he just seemed like an idiot. It was quite the change. The first half of the night with him was great, he was able to hold a solid conversation just like normal. He would ask about you, wanting to learn about what you were into, but now he kept going in circles. He would only talk about himself, it got boring. Fast.

Charlie’s drunken behavior was becoming more apparent, he was slurring his words and regressing into mindless rambling. Mattheo clenched his jaw as he saw you grow more disinterested in your date by the second. It was clear you were bored and fed up. He was tempted to intervene, to find a way to end this date early. But he also wanted to teach you a lesson. That you were supposed to really be with him, and not some dumbass, especially one who couldn’t handle his alcohol.

You were getting embarrassed, people must have thought it was weird that Mattheo and you arrived at the party together and now you were with other people. You knew this by the curious glances they were making at me. They probably couldn’t help but wonder about the dynamic we held.

A pretty blonde girl went up to Mattheo, blocking his view of you, “Hi..I couldn't help but notice you almost…sulking in this corner…can I ask for a dance?”

He gave her a lazy smirk, looking her up and down before responding, “sure, why not.” He pushed himself off the wall, downing the rest of his drink before offering his hand to the girl.

You continued to sit there bored, your chin resting on your hand. The major downside to people not wearing uniforms was that you didn’t know who belonged to which house. You wished you could just dump him with someone that would know him.

As you look around you notice Mattheo dancing with a girl, it wasn’t the type of dance he had taught you. It was the kind that would be best suited for our regular ‘trashy’ parties.

Mattheo’s smirk wavered slightly as the girl pressed herself up against him, grinding against his lap shamelessly as they danced to the music. He chuckled quietly to himself, amused by her boldness. He ran his hands down her sides, fingers lingering on her hips. His gaze wandered over to you, his expression faltering slightly when he noticed how bored and annoyed you appeared to be.

You notice Mattheo make eye contact with you, you give him a friendly wave, watching him handle the girl. You turn away before scowling to yourself.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?” Charlie breathed out, his hot breath bitter from the alcohol. He leaned over the couch to put his face between your neck. You shrugged him away uncomfortably. This didn’t stop him though, he gently put a hand on your jaw, making you look at him “pay attention.” It was major deja vu, but with the wrong person. Very wrong person. Charlie leaned in to kiss you, but you quickly stood up leaving the rose he gave you on the seat. He kept leaning to the point he just ended up face planting onto the couch seat.

As Mattheo danced with the girl, he happened to look back up at you, catching it in time when Charlie tried to kiss you. His fingers dug into the girl’s hips as he felt anger and jealousy. The girl let out a small moan. “Ouch Mattheo. Give me a warning next time.”

The drunken fool didn’t deserve to touch you like that. He stopped letting the girl grind on him for a moment, but then he noticed how you got up not letting him finish that kiss. He laughed to himself. The girl looked behind at him confused, but she turned around to wrap her arms around his neck, rubbing her breasts against his chest now. “Unless you want to take this upstairs?” she said, trying to get his attention again.

You walked over to the refreshment table, not caring one bit about leaving Charlie behind after that stunt. He could fend for himself. Thank God there was still some weed left, thank you Hufflepuffs! You thought, kissing the air. You set down a paper, neatly tucking in the weed, carefully licking it shut. As you did, you watched Mattheo. At least one of us was having a good night.

“Maybe later, sweetheart.” Mattheo said to the girl, he didn’t care for her advances at all, but he just wanted to play along. He responded with a sly smile as she rubbed against him.

You looked back down at the fairly fat joint you made, you wanted to light it but you felt guilty. You wanted to get high with your best friend. It was so fun last time. You tucked the joint behind your ear, preparing another one for him. We would have to get high on a different day. With the two joints, you moved them into your corset, just on the side of your boob as you had no pocket or bag with you. You looked toward the drink table, considering but being put off with how it made Charlie. You still grabbed a drink just to hold onto and not look awkward.

Mattheo caught you putting what seemed like joints into your dress, he smiled knowing you were probably thinking about him. His attention was divided between the blonde girl and you. He smirked to himself, seeing your disapproving face when you went to grab a drink. He found your sudden dislike of alcohol funny.

You stood there with your drink, not taking a sip out of it. You just bumped your head to the music. You noticed Theodore and made your way over to him. “Hey Teddy, I’ve got to give it to you. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. You did great.”

He smiled at your compliment, he took a sip of his own drink before responding and gesturing around the room that was filled with students dancing, chatting, drinking, and just having fun. “I know, thanks for your help with finishing it. I’m glad everyone is enjoying themselves…” He hesitated a moment, “but you seem a bit…bored. Where’s your date?”

You just pointed behind yourself with your thumb, “ick.”

Theo laughed at your bluntness, looking over at Charlie’s direction. He was still sitting alone on the couch, face in his hands, “dumbass can’t handle his alcohol? And Mattheo?” You pointed in the other direction. He let his smile falter a bit, knowing his friend was just using the girl. “Ah~ so can I have a dance with you then? You look amazing.” He looked you up and down.

You nod, putting your glass down, and taking a step close to Theo. You put your hands on Theo’s shoulders, as he put his on your waist. You swayed to the music as it changed to a slower song. You put your head on his chest as you did with Mattheo. You let out a small sigh that was concealed with the music, you were definitely going to get an earful later.

You both danced to a couple of songs, before you pulled away from him, “thank you for dancing with me. I think I'm going to retire for the night. My feet are killing me…though I liked dressing up, I’d rather stick to sneakers.” You laugh straightening out Theo’s tie and collar.

“Of course, any time. I’m sorry your date kind of ruined your night, but you really do look gorgeous tonight, cara mia.” He looked down at you, his tone sincere.

Giving him a friendly kiss on the cheek, “goodnight Teddy.” You made your way up the stairs back to the dormitories. As you go up, you look down at the party once more. Charlie was just now sleeping on the couch, you rolled your eyes. Mattheo had his face buried in the blonde girl’s hair. You sighed. Mattheo’s dorm room was closer to the stairs so you made your way over to his room, your pajamas were still in there. With your luck he had not locked his door.

Mattheo kept his eyes trained on you as you went into his room, he couldn’t help but feel a little excited at the thought. It sent a thrill through him. His mind started to wonder, why you decided to go in there instead of your room.

When you stepped in his room, you breathed in deeply. It had such an intoxicating scent. Sometimes you went nose blind to Mattheo’s smell, but being in his room where it was the most concentrated almost made your brain fuzz. You went into his bathroom, looked at yourself in the mirror, man what a wasted outfit.

He couldn’t wait any longer, the thought of you inside there by yourself was driving him crazy. He pushed the blonde girl to the side, mumbling an excuse about needing some air. He made his way towards the stairs, shoving people to the side, determined to get to his room as quickly as possible. As he entered inside, he noticed the bathroom light on, the door cracked open.

Bending down to pick up your pajamas that you left on the floor. You debated on changing out of your dress, but knew just how long it would take if you were to do it by yourself. You would need to wait for Mattheo, but you also didn’t want to be in his room if he decided to bring that girl up here for the night. You notice one of his shirts on the floor too, you picked it up. You wanted to smell it. Fucking weirdo, don’t do it. Do it. Don’t do -

Mattheo pushed open the door quietly, peering inside to see you holding one of his shirts in your hands. You jumped at the sound, “oh my god, shit!” You dropped the shirt back on the floor along with your pajamas.

He leaned against the doorframe, watching you with a smirk, “you didn’t expect me to find you in my dorm, love?” He laughed sarcastically.

You peaked behind him trying to see if he brought the girl over after all, “no I didn’t..I thought you were still going to be downstairs. I was just getting my pajamas and shoes.”

The smirk on his face widened as he noticed you peering behind him, he laughed and shook his head, “I got tired of dancing with her. She’s a little too clingy for my taste.”

“Yeah? Well at least you didn’t have to endure a drunk.” You go to pick your pajamas again. You make your way to his desk to take off your heels. His eyes looked at your legs. There was a pause between you two. “Go on Mattheo, rub it in my face.” You huffed, rubbing your feet, closing your eyes, “let’s get it over with.”

“Oh, princess, if you insist.” He moved closer to you, standing behind you. He leaned down, bringing his face close to your ear, his breath against your neck. “I told you so.”

You kept your eyes shut, clenching them a bit hard. “T-that’s all you got?”

He brushed a strand of your hair from your face, his fingers tracing down the side of your neck. His tone was low and husky as he spoke into your ear “Oh, you know I’ve got plenty more where that came from. Want me to teach you another lesson?”

“What do you mean?” You looked up at him, your heart took a leap.

It was now or never for Mattheo. “For not listening to me.” He firmly grabbed your wrist making you stand up from the seat. He instead took you place, he sat down looking at you expectantly as you were now standing by his side.

“Mattheo…what do you mean?” You almost stammered on your own words.

“It’s a yes or a no, darling. Do you want me to teach you a lesson? I am your tutor after all, right?”

“-and best friend.” You looked at him, still very much confused, but you felt a sense of excitement of the unknown. He rolled up his sleeves to his elbow carefully as you thought it over. Why is he being so…so.. “Yes.” You blurted.

“Good girl, this is the lesson I’m going to teach you. It’s going to be about listening to me, because I know what’s right for you. The first part is having you admit to yourself that I was right and you were wrong. I don't want to have to tell you. You tell me instead…go on.” In a quick motion he brought you down and bent over on his lap. You didn’t have enough time to react to what was going on, but your heart was starting to race. You could feel one of his hands rubbing your ass just above the thin satin fabric of your dress. You turned to look back at him, and he was staring at your ass, but had to quickly meet your eye. “Go on.” He gave your left cheek a rough squeeze.

You closed your eyes, before opening them and answering. “Mattheo you were right. I was wrong.”

“Wrong about what?” He said, squeezing your ass again, then tracing a single finger along the slit of your dress. Touching the smooth skin of your thigh.

“About my date…I was dumb to think it was going to be an amazing date. But it wasn’t.” You sighed both at the turn of events with Charlie, and because of Mattheo’s touch.

“And I warned you, didn't I? That you could be with someone so much better than him, didn’t I?” He nearly spat out the last words in emphasis. Squeezing your ass harder this time, his nails are able to dig into you through the dress.

You don’t respond, you’re too focused on his touch. How he was handling you. Your thought process was going in about a thousand different directions right now. When Mattheo didn’t hear you he swiftly pulled your dress over to the side by the slit, exposing your ass to him. You stopped breathing. He sucked in air through his teeth at the sight of your perky round ass in a black little lacey thong. He gave you a sharp smack on your ass, you yelped not expecting it. “I asked you a question, darling.”

“I uh…Yes. Yes Mattheo, you warned me. You did warn me that I could be with someone better.” You whined as he smoothed out the area he just hit.

“Have I ever done wrong by you?” SMACK! He hit the other cheek this time. You slapped your hand over your mouth to stop you from crying out loud, but he quickly pushed it away from your face so you could answer him.

“No..y-you haven’t.”

“Then why didn't you listen to me?” SMACK! You cried out again as he hit you. Again he rubbed it out.

“I- I…don’t-” you began to say - SMACK!

“Does he know the reasons why you cry?”

You opened your mouth to try and respond but was spanked again.

“Does he know what makes you laugh?”

SMACK!

Your legs were starting to tremble due to the mix of pain…pleasure…the excitement of it all. It was so confusing. Well it wasn’t confusing to see Mattheo so angry, but towards you it was new. It was turning you on, and you knew he was enjoying himself too. Not only because he did enjoy inflicting pain onto others, but because you were starting to feel him get hard from underneath you. His dick was poking up into your stomach. You were sure the pressure of your weight on him was sending him over the edge. You looked back at him, biting your lip. He just looked down at you, quite darkly. His hand was removed from your ass, leaving it red and hot. Surely there was bruising and welts from his work.

Mattheo’s lips twisted upwards in a smile. Then pulled your hair back, twisting it around his hand. This causes you to strain your head backwards. He bent down to whisper against your neck, kissing it. “I can promise you this, no one is ever going to make you feel the same as I will. I’ll do anything for you.”

You nod, your eyes going wide at his confession. You were about to respond to him but once again you were silenced when he let go of your hair, and pushed your head back down. His hands went over your sore ass and and he hooked his fingers around your panties, shimmying them down your thighs and off of you. He stealthily stored them in his pants pocket.

You felt a cool breeze as you were exposed to him now. Especially because of your growing wetness, which Mattheo could now see. “M-Mattheo… can I please speak now?”

He shook his head, “Not now, darling.” He leaned to the side, putting one hand on each ass cheek. His gaze quickly looked over at you, your head was still hanging down. He returned to what he was doing, and he slowly spread your ass, showing himself your pussy. He groaned at the sight. He smirked, liking that you were enjoying this treatment. “Fuck, baby. It’s so pretty.”

You couldn’t help yourself, but at his words you arched your back to further show yourself to him. You felt your face get hot, this was Mattheo. Once a stranger. Once your tutor. Now your best friend. The guy you’ve developed a massive crush on. He chuckled at your action, he was so tempted to break the promise you had in regards to him trying to read your mind. He wanted to know what you were thinking of all this.

“I promise you won’t need him after this, ever. You will never think about him ever again. Only me.”

Mattheo crept his fingers closer to your heat, so he could spread it further. You scrunch your eyes closed as he was getting closer to where you wanted to be touched. God you wanted to be handled like this by Mattheo for so long. So many nights you had spent alone in your dorm touching yourself and imagining it was him. You wondered if he ever had those moments (he definitely did). You were snapped out of that thought when you heard him spit onto your cunt, you felt it tickle into your hole.

“Go on, say my name, Doll. I want to hear my name coming from your lips.”

“Mattheo..” You breathed out shakily. “Shit mattheo… please touch me.”

SMACK! That was all your plea earned you, another slap on your ass, “You don't get to order me around…but alas I was going to regardless. You’re so impatient.” He ran two fingers along your wet folds, smirking at the idea that his spit was just sitting inside of you currently.

“M-m-matty.” you moaned out. He was a sucker whenever you called him that, so he dipped a finger into your core. You moaned out again, especially when he began to probe around feeling your gummy ribbed walls. You reflexively clenched around his finger. He breathed out, imagining how it must feel around his cock. He curled his finger inside of you. “More-more please.”

He sighed, with his free hand he grabbed your hair in his fist, “stop telling me what to do.” Once again, despite his words he still gave you what you wanted. He pulled out his first finger, just to shove two back in afterwards.

“Oh my god.” You moaned out. He smiled, moving his fingers deeper inside you. Your precious little cunt was making unholy sounds from how wet you were. Mattheo loved the sound of it, he could tell that his dick was just leaking with precum. He didn’t know how much longer he could take.

Mattheo was just being relentless with his pace, fingering you. He tried holding you down by leaning on you with his body weight, but you were wiggling too much from pleasure. You felt like you were about to cum. But he would sometimes take his fingers out just to spread the wetness around your lips, massaging it in before continuing. It was driving you absolutely nuts. Eventually you were able to reach your high, cumming down his fingers. He sighed, just as satisfied with the sight of your slightly creamy cum that was now going down your thighs when he pulled his fingers out of you.

“Princess…I really like you, you know? Like really like you. I’m not just saying this…for what we’re doing.. And sorry for a lack of better words..I can’t- I can’t think straight right now. I just want to bury my dick deep inside your pussy.”

“Don’t worry…Matty..” You tried to catch your breath, trying to bring your heart rate down. Mattheo helped you turn around and sit on his lap, making you straddle him. You looked down to his lips, smashing them with yours. The kiss was hungry. Each of you kept biting the other. Mattheo with his clean hand turned your head to the side, kissing and biting down your neck. “I like you too…I have for a while now.. I just..I didn’t think you felt the same.”

Mattheo looked up at you, as you admitted back to him. He was relieved you felt the same. He smiled sweetly at you, your usual best friend peeking out for a moment. He hated that he kept you waiting for so long as he sorted through his own feelings for you, and it only took some jackass taking you out as a date for him to learn this. Just as you had been, he was ripped out of that thought when he saw that you took the hand that he used to finger you, putting the two fingers inside your mouth. Cleaning yourself from him.

“Oh fuck, darling.” his jaw hung low, groaning with the sight. His eyes glued to where the two digits were disappearing between your lips. He took another sharp inhale, unable to tear his gaze away. He pulled them out of your mouth, leaving a trail of spit to fall onto your chin. He tried to regain his authority, he cleared his throat, “W-What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Can I please suck your cock?” You smiled sweetly at him again, batting your eyelashes.

He breathed out, his voice low and almost hoarse as he spoke, his words coming out in short bursts “n-no princess. I’m trying to teach you a lesson. You’re supposed to be good and pay attention to what I'm doing.”

“Okay Mattheo…sure.” You agreed to play along. He put his arms around you, lifting you up easily. He got out of the seat and walked over to his bed, setting you down in front of it. He turned you around so your back was towards him and he pushed you down onto the bed. Keeping your head flat against his comforter with one hand. You inhaled, taking in his scent from his sheets. You let out a small moan.

He knew what you were doing, “for your information…I knew you wanted to sniff my dirty shirt that I left in my bathroom. You freak.” He brought up how he caught you when he returned back to his dorm after the party. He couldn’t resist a little banter despite how heated things were getting between you and him.

“Shaddup!” You said muffled from your head being pinned down. You felt him move your dress to the side, tucking it under your hip, making sure it was out of the way, “do you want to help me remove this…?”

He smiled at you again, shaking his head, “no..I actually want to fuck you in your dress. You look too beautiful in it to let it go to waste. A real princess.” You couldn't help but love the sweetness in that. He momentarily let go of your head, so he could unzip his pants and pull it down. He also took off his dress shirt, exposing his toned torso and abs. He used his knee to open your legs apart further, he pumped himself a few times, needing to feel some relief already. “Spread yourself to me.” He commanded bringing your hands to your ass. You did what you were told, you arched your back again, spreading your pussy for him. You felt Mattheo rub the tip of his dick around your wet entrance, then rubbing it around your clit before using his full length to use your wetness to lubricate himself.

You wanted to turn around to look at it, you wanted to see if you could take him. You always wondered what he was packing. You wanted to know how long it was, how thick it was, what color it was, how it would feel inside of you. You were feeling a slight headache, then the realization hit you. You were going to stand straight up when he pushed you down again, “Mattheo!”

“Okay okay..i’m sorry. I know I promised, but I wanted to know what you were thinking.” He said not so guilty. “Buuuuut know that I know.. I want you to see me fucking you. I need to see your pretty face-” He turned you around, lifting you so that you were now sitting forward, facing him on the side of the bed. He was smirking when he brought over a pillow to put just underneath the small of your back. He pulled you by your waist so your ass was barely hanging out of the edge, it was a perfect height to his hips, “-I need to see how you look when you take me.” He pulled your legs so that they were resting on his shoulders.

Fuuuuck. You thought as you looked down at his twitching dick. He was so big and girthy. His cock slightly tanner than the rest of him, his tip as pink as his lips. God the lips you stared at all the time, day to day. You felt nervous, he would definitely be the biggest you’ve taken. You felt a ringing in your ear again. You rolled your eyes, knowing he was reading your mind again.

“I know you can take me, sweetheart. You’ve done everything I’ve taught you so well.” Mattheo stroked the side of your face gently, with warm eyes. You couldn’t fathom the duality of this man. He was doing this while his other hand was adjusting his dick to your entrance, carefully dipping the tip into you.

You looked down away from his face to watch him enter you. “Please take it slow…I’m-”

“There’s no reason to be scared, of course I will take it slow.” He said this, but hated it. He just wanted to fuck you senseless. He looked away from your face, looking at your pussy. He tried pushing himself in slowly, but you were not letting him in. “You're so tense, please relax for me.” He moved over to suck on his thumb before moving it to your clit and rubbing slow lazy circles, earning him a moan from you. He smiled, continuing his work. He wasn’t even trying his best and you were already shaking again.

“Matty… I think..I think-”

“Oh no you’re not.” He stopped just as you were about to come to your next high. “Next time you cum, it’ll have to be on my dick.”

You whined and wiggled against him. He took this opportunity and really pushed himself, leaning down into you. You held him by his shoulders, biting him on his bicep. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer into you. All you felt was pain at first, and he wasn’t even moving yet too. You said a silent prayer to yourself.

“Shit. You’re so tight. When was the last time you were fucked…? Actually please don’t tell me I don't want to think about another person doing this to you.” He said one hand on your waist, the other on your hip, pulling you closer so he could really be balls deep into you. He tried not to get angry at the thought. “It feels so good, damn. So warm. Baby, can I start moving?”

You felt so full. So very full with him all the way inside you. You felt his cock twitch impatiently just as you had been earlier, maybe more. You felt bad for Mattheo, you also wanted him to feel good, but it was almost unbearable. You nod, “you can Matty.”

His eyes snapped up at yours. He didn’t like your uncertainty, but he really needed to feel relief. He almost felt sorry for you, but he was way too horny to fully care and to just pull out to make you suck him off. “I’m sorry Princess…I’ve been wanting and needing you like this so fucking bad.” He began to pull his hips back little by little, going in and out of you. He sighed, moving your legs back up on his shoulders, he kissed your leg.

“No, dont app-” You gasped when he slapped his hips against you, “-ologize. I-I want to make you feel good too. I want you to use me…” He smiled at your words, despite your not so hidden worries. You were a fool for him, and he loved it. He loved it because he was a fool for you too.

While you loved watching him fuck you, loved hearing his grunts and sighs. It was still so much for you. You turn your face away from him, biting on your finger. The other hand, covering your face. When you were just focusing on just the physical, not the visual it helped relax you. The pain began to disappear, especially once you started to get used to his size and the pace. Mattheo was definitely stretching you out. You whimper at the thought, at the pleasure that was starting to hit you like a pulsing wave.

“W-why are you hiding your face?” He grunts, slowing his movement, “Don’t hide it, I want to see your expression.” He pulls your hand away from you. His eyes widened when he saw your cheeks were stained by your tears. He completely stops, midway pulling out. “Princess, are you alright? Am I hurting you?! Oh my god you should have told me if I was-”

“No please- please don't stop. It just feels that good.” You reassure him by pulling yourself forward so that his cock would reenter you. You went back to biting your finger to hold back your cry.

Mattheo smiles at you, a sense of relief rushing through him. His smile turns into a smug look. “You’re still so pretty when you cry. You scared me.” He leaned back down, licking the tears off your cheeks, not minding the salty taste one bit. He moved to suck on your neck, he pulled your other hand down that you were biting on. “You sound so beautiful too, especially when your cries are just for me. Don't hold them back. I want to hear how you feel about me, how I'm making you feel..”

“Matty, please just keep fucking me.” You moan out, moving your hips against him.

“As you wish, just don't tell me off later if you can’t walk. You asked for this.” His smirk and cockiness returned. He pulled your legs forward so that they were being pressed up against your chest, really exposing your pussy to him. He didn’t hold back anymore.

“Yes mattheo, I’ll tell you again that you were right. That you’re always right. I will always listen to you.” You moan out, knowing he loves the sense of control. You arched your back off the bed, so he would keep hitting your sweet spot directly. You felt your eyes lul back. You tried to keep your eyes open to watch him slamming his dick into your sweet sopping wet cunt. Each time he pulled out of you, his own member glistened.

“That’s my fucking girl. You’re taking me so well.” He spread your legs away from your chest so he could lean back into you once more, he kissed your forehead. “Oh this - s is this is so frea k…freaking ba-bad” He began to get sloppy with his movements. He wrapped both of his hands around your throat, to choke you and also to steady himself.

“You’re cock feels so good inside me Matty, so good. It feels so euphoric, it’s so filling.” You choked out through his grip around your neck. You saw him look down at your pussy again. He let go one hand and pressed down just under your belly button. “Fucking shit Ma-Mah-Mattheo.”

When he did this, he saw the way your own pussy was gripping onto him, he smiled at the sight. “You’re being so greedy now aren’t you? You just can't enough huh? You like me treating you like this, you’re so dirty.”

You keep moaning his name, not being about to think about anything but how he was fucking you so well. Just as you had always imagined and wanted. You were just so focused on the pressure he was creating in your belly, the all too familiar twisting and knotting as you felt getting closer.

“Shiiiit~ your pussy is suffocating my dick darlin’. Are you about to come around me? Am I making you feel that amazing? Please don't hold back now, I'm all for it.” He moved his hand back to paying attention to your clit, but he paused before continuing his motion much more slowly. “Are..are you on any birth control?”

“What?” You were kind of dumbfounded, he asks this now? He just stares back expectantly. “Yeah I am..” You kind of gave him an attitude because he was denying your next orgasm with this sudden questioning.

He squinted a bit, “why?”

“Matt- what? Just what? My periods hurt like hell and this is what helps me dur-”

“Can I creampie you then?” He nonchalantly says interrupting you, returning his attention back to your clit, smiling.

You throw your head back, you were slowly but surely returning to the state you were in before he suddenly stopped.

“I asked you a question… Please don't make me ask again..” He said, closing his eyes, needing to know your answer before he thrusted faster. He needed to know what to do now that he was getting close. God he hoped you would say yes. Mattheo wanted to see your little cunt filled up with his cum. He wanted to see it drip out of you..He looked at you realizing you had been shaking from sheer pleasure. The reason why you weren’t answering him was because you had came around him without him fully realizing it while in his own thoughts.

“Mattheo..”

He looked at you quite lovingly, tucking your hair back into place, “I’m right here.” He gently taps on your cheek, trying to pull you from your trance, “I’m right here, open your eyes. Look at me.” You open your eyes slowly to him, giving him a fucked out smile. He smiled back at you, “that’s my girl.”

“...yes fill me up with your cum. It’ll be an honor.”

With that he did not need to be told twice, his smile widened. He kissed you on the lips before ramming himself back into you. He still didn’t give up on the attention he was giving your clit. It was starting to ache by how overstimulated you were. It was so red and swollen. There was no way in hell you were going to tell him to stop. He was just using you like a toy at this point, and you were loving it. He had your legs pressed together and to your chest again, you were hugging them for dear life. You kept calling his name, begging him to fill you. “Princess, I love you so much..I lovee - I love yo u.” He stammered out “I love you..m-more than anyone i n my l-life.” He shook, and stayed still a moment as he came.

“I love you too.” You said, a little sadly as he pulled out of you. He gave you another kiss on the lips, before just peppering your face with kisses.

“You’ve always been mine, you know that right?”

“Mhmm” You close your eyes.

He sighs contently, kneeling a bit. He watched as his cum started to be squeezed out of you. He thought he would love it, but he just wanted it to stay inside of you. He brought his two fingers to your hole, scooping up the cum that escaped and pressing it back into you. He curled his fingers once more, starting to pump in and out carefully. You moaned out, grabbing his wrist. You opened your eyes and he was already looking into yours. He smiled his devilish smile. Oh fuck…

“Yeah, I'm not done with you just yet, princess.”

With that it was like he was trying making up for lost time with you.~

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