#v: she brought sun to the night

[theeveninghour]

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. 

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨Dress Up, Part 1: The Proposal✨

IT IS DONE HOLY SHIT! Yeah, I had to change this fic 3 different times, I'm really sorry this one took so long. Hopefully you all like this one and thank you for your patience <3

Consider this a reward for kicking Vox's ass in this poll and declaring our short king the ACTUAL hottest character in Hazbin Hotel lmao

Edit: This is now going to be a multi-chapter story! Look forward to more! Thank you all for the support 💖

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: Lucifer takes you dress shopping for a special night out, but for some reason he's been acting a little strange lately...

Warnings: 18+, smut, public teasing, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v

Lucifer excitedly told you that he wanted to take you dress shopping today. It wasn't out of the norm for you two to go out on the town and indulge on some sort of spending spree together. Plus Lucifer absolutely loved buying things for you; whether it be precious jewelry, beautiful flowers, or brand-new clothes. But you had to admit it's been a while since you've gone out, what with Lucifer spending a majority of time at the hotel assisting his daughter Charlie. You were so happy that they were able to rekindle their bond after so many years of being apart. You were more than happy to help with the hotel as well! You found ways to help Charlie with whatever she needed, which somehow ended up being more than you initially thought. It was exhausting to say the least, but you enjoyed it nonetheless! You were very much looking forward to going out today with your beloved king. And of course he was taking you to one of the most esteemed shops in all of Hell, Vivacious by Velvette. He truly spared no expense when it came to you.

But for some reason, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was…off about Lucifer today.

He didn't seem upset or angry or anything of the sort. More like, he was scared? Or perhaps nervous about something? You couldn't think of anything that could be making him feel this way. The hotel was doing great, Charlie and Lucifer’s relationship was better than it’s ever been, and you and Lucifer have been nothing but enamored with each other. You were just clothes shopping after all. You two had been dating for some time now; you remembered how Lucifer used to be all kinds of flustered during your first few outings. You thought it was adorable the way he stumbled over his words when he brought up the newest duck he had added to his collection or when he complimented every single outfit you’ve ever worn. He still did those things, of course, but he slowly became more and more comfortable and confident around you. But today was something you’ve never seen before. The wary smiles he’s been giving throughout day, the jitteriness of his movements anytime you approached him, his rapid speech patterns…was he hiding something from you? You intended to get to the bottom of it.

You walked down the streets of Hell with Lucifer by your side, his arm linked with yours. You stepped into the lavish shop, dresses of all kids hung from the racks: ball gowns, sun dresses, cocktail dresses; anything you could think of was there! Lucifer told you to take your time and to pick out as many as you wanted to try on while he waited for you by the dressing room. Despite the plethora of options at your fingertips, you only found yourself intrigued by a handful of dresses. Some with more material than others but you'd thought you'd give them a try regardless; you weren't shy when it came to your body.

You grabbed the three dresses that appealed to you the most and made your way towards the changing rooms. Just as he promised, you saw Lucifer standing at the end of the hall waiting for you. But he didn't seem to notice you at first, his attention was elsewhere. Next to the changing rooms was the most impressive collection of wedding dresses you'd ever seen in Hell and even on Earth, each more breathtaking than the last. You noticed Lucifer staring at the wall of dresses with an almost wishful expression, reaching out to touch one of the dresses' lacy sleeve, gently massaging it between his fingers. You smiled and quietly walked over to join him.

"They're really beautiful, aren't they?," you said, snapping him out of his trance and making him jump a bit. He smiled at you, his hand still holding onto the sleeve.

"Absolutely stunning," he beamed. Although, with the way he was looking at you, it didn't seem like he was referring to the dresses. You felt a small blush creep across your cheeks.

One of the employees walked up to you and directed you to an empty changing room. Lucifer waited outside patiently, smiling at you as you closed the sort behind you. The first dress you wanted to try on was a simple black sheath dress. Once you slipped it on, you reached behind of and attempted to grab the zipper. You can only manage to pull it up so far before it wouldn’t budge anymore, causing you to huff in frustration. Slowly, you opened the door to see Lucifer’s eager face staring back at you.

“I need your help, hon,” you admitted. “I can’t reach the zipper.”

Quickly, Lucifer stood up and followed you into the changing room. You turned your back to him and lifted your hair up and out of the way so the zipper couldn’t catch it. Lucifer placed one hand on your hip and the other on the back of your dress. You heard the zipper moving, but it only took you a second to realize it was moving in the wrong direction. Cheeky bastard, you thought to yourself.

“Up, Lucifer,” you said with a smirk, glancing at him over your shoulder. You heard a light chuckle escape him.

“Sorry, darling,” he apologized almost insincerely, peppering kisses down your neck, “can’t help myself when it comes to you.” Lethargically, he pulled the zipper up to the top, finally letting your hair fall back down. If he wanted to play games, you were more than happy to participate. Because you knew how to win. And just maybe, you could get him to admit to whatever he was keeping from you.

“I wouldn’t start something that you’re not ready to finish, sweet pea,” you threatened with a smug grin.

Before Lucifer could get a word out, you spun around and pushed him gently against the wall, eliciting a small yelp from him. You placed both of your arms on either side of his head, effectively trapping him. His eyes widened, sucking in a breath as he realized how vulnerable he was in this new position he had found himself in. His head and hands became flat against the wall as he looked into your now ravenous eyes.

“My love, p-please,” he began to stammer, “I-I didn’t want to-HNG,” you effectively cut off his meek pleas as your one hand traveled down below his belt. You maneuvered your hand up and down at an agonizingly slow pace. Nonetheless, you felt him start to harden underneath his pants almost instantly. You flashed a devious smile, but he didn’t see it, as he had screwed his eyes shut. Baring his clenched teeth, he tried desperately to hold his breath as to not make any lewd noises. You took that as a challenge, of course.

“So it’s only alright if you get to tease me, is that it, Luci?,” you questioned, leaning your head forward with your lips now pressed against his ear. “Now that doesn’t seem fair at all, does it?”

Lucifer gulped as you continued your teasing ministrations. “I’m s-sorry, sweetheart,” he looked at you doe-eyed. “P-Please don’t-mmph…don’t do this, not here. I won’t be able to hold back, not today…”

“Oh, I’m counting on that,” you retorted. “You know you’ve been acting out of sorts all day, don’t think I haven’t noticed. Maybe if you tell me what’s wrong, I’ll show you some mercy.”

Lucifer audibly gulped at your words. "It's…it's nothing, angel, I promise, I just-fuck," you pressed your hand in harder against the growing tent in his pants, silencing his response.

"You hesitated just now," you told him. "If that's how you want it to be, so be it. You don't have to tell me. But you're not off the hook, not by a longshot." You pulled away from him, giving him a chance to breathe normally once again. You gave a quick glance to the mirror to finally get a look at the dress you had adorned. It looked nice! But it came off as something you would wear in an office setting; not really your style. You looked back at Lucifer who was instantly frozen in place from your gaze.

"I'm not feeling this one," you remarked, "help me with the zipper?" You turned your back to him once more, feeling his hand tentatively grab the zipper. "You can only touch the dress, understand? I'm off limits."

"M-mhmm," Lucifer agreed. He behaved and only tugged the zipper down halfway until you could reach it yourself.

"Good boy."

You discarded the dress quickly, leaving you in only your lacy black bra and matching black panties. Lucifer forced himself to look away from you, trying to reach for the door handle.

"And where do you think you're going?," you asked coyly, stopping him in his tracks entirely.

“I umm, just uhh…giving you privacy?” He tentatively went for the handle again, but your arm shot out, keeping the door in its locked state.

“Oh, we’re way past decency here, Lucifer.” You maneuvered him away from the door and sat him down on the large white bench that was affixed to the wall. You leveraged your foot against the area just below his hip and rested one hand on the top of your thigh, the other on your hip. “Besides, you’re not really in any condition to be in the public view” leaning forward and shooting a quick glance down at his crotch, “now are you?”

Lucifer could only shake his head.

"Glad you agree," you smiled and pecked his lips, a pathetic little whine leaving Lucifer's throat. "I have a few more dresses to try on. You can look, but you cannot touch unless I say, alright?"

"Yes, love," he murmured obediently. You smiled and turned around to pick up the black dress you had let fall to the floor. You bent over slowly to pick it up, giving Lucifer a lovely view of your barely covered ass. You heard a deep inhale behind you followed by a shaky exhale.

You hung up the black dress and moved onto the next dress; a beautiful lavender colored Bardot dress with sleeves that hung off your shoulders. Luckily this one didn't have a zipper, you only needed to step in and shimmy it up your body. You adjusted your bra straps and hid them under the sleeves for the time being. You liked this one more than the last, you did as few twirls in front of the mirror checking every single angle.

"What do you think of this one, hon?," you asked, looking at his reflection in the mirror. It seemed as though he was gripping that bench with just a little too much force.

"Ravishing," Lucifer breathed. You had given him permission to look, and he was taking fully advantage of your generosity. He was chopping at the bit, fighting every urge to pounce right then and there. Lucifer's eyes were hungry, his lips curled into a smile to try and hide how badly he needed you at this moment. You admired his will power…but how strong was it truly? You made your way back towards him, chuckling playfully. Without warning, your knees found their way onto the bench, now fully straddling the mess of a man beneath you.

"W-what are you-mmph!" Lucifer tried to ask you but was cut short by your lips suddenly on his. You wrapped your arms around his neck and placed a small peck to his forehead.

"You always say just the right things, Luci," you cooed as you began to shift your hips against him. Hearing the mangled moans coming from Lucifer was nothing short of euphoric. You noticed he had released his grasp on the bench and began to move towards your hips. You gripped the back of his head, his hair firmly between your fingers, and tilted his head back gently. Lucifer grunted softly as you brought your lips to his neck. "Ah, ah, ah, what did I say, love? No touching," you scolded, now sucking and nibbling at his tender skin, desperately needing to mark him.

Lucifer whimpered and reluctantly brought his hands back to their original position on the frigid bench that paled in comparison to the feeling of your warm body that was pressed against him. "I-I can't do this f-for much longer, darling," he whimpered, "I can only h-handle- hnng, so much, I…ssshhhhhhiiittt-" Lucifer's hot breath became increasingly labored as you continued to rock your hips against his painfully growing bulge.

Just then, you heard the sound of a door closing. Someone had just entered the room next to you. With the threat of being heard now looming, you lifted yourself from his neck to see that Lucifer's eyes had turned an ominous red. It felt as if his slit black irises were staring straight into your soul, attempting to burn you from within. He was losing control fast. But you weren't done with him just yet. With a smirk, you placed a finger over his soft lips. "Shh," you whispered almost inaudibly, "you may want to keep your voice down from now on."

A low guttural growl erupted from Lucifer, not of anger, but of pure lust. His obedience hanging by the thinnest of threads as you removed yourself from his lap and stripped yourself of the purple dress. At this point, you couldn’t really care less about the dresses. This was much more entertaining.

The last dress you had grabbed was a form fitting strapless dress decorated entirely in ruby colored sequence with a long slit up the side. You held it against your body in the mirror, but something didn't look quiet right. But then in donned on you, and a devious thought had crossed your mind. You made your way over to Lucifer once more, noticing his claws were now digging into his thighs.

"Can you hold this for just a moment, dear?," you asked innocently. He looked up at you with his still crimson eyes, outstretching his hand silently. Once he was holding the garment, you reached around the back of your bra and unclasped it, letting it hit the floor with a soft thud. Lucifer's eyes became saucers, bunching up the dress in his hand with a clenched fist. Your soft and tender breasts were mere inches from his touch and yet he found he could only sit there motionless, writhing under each new temptation you threw at him.

"You…you are…" Lucifer began, finding it agonizingly difficult to steady his breathing.

You smiled and tugged the dress back from Lucifer's powerful grip. "The dress wouldn't look right with the bra on, silly! I should have brought one of my strapless ones, but oh well, live and learn!" You giggled to yourself and turned away from the fallen angel who's resolve was deteriorating with each passing moment. And with that final move, you had definitely won the game.

Or did you?

While you were mentally congratulating yourself on your perceived victory, you hadn't noticed that Lucifer had moved from his seated position, picking up every article of your clothing that you used to torment him. All you felt next was something wrap around your waist tightly. Was that…his tail?

"What the-AHH!," you tried to question, only to be pulled backwards through a portal that had been summoned, dropping the red dress in the process. The pale white dressing room vanished from sight and you were left standing in the middle of your bedroom. “Lucifer, why did you-" but you couldn’t finish your question. When you turned around, your lover was on his knees behind you, his demonic horns now on full display. He lifted his head, his eyes brimming with tears that threatened to fall at any moment. "Oh, Luci…"

"Please forgive me, I-I'm so sorry, my angel," he cried, "I know I've been acting strange all day and I know that you know I've been keeping something from you. I swear on my immortal life that I will tell you, but I'm begging you…" you kneeled down with him, cupping his face with your hand, "no more teasing. P-please…I-I need you…"

You gave him a loving smile and brought your lips to his. He melted from your touch, grabbing at your hand that held his cheek. "You know I love you, Lucifer," you breathed as you pulled away, "I'm sorry if I took things too far back there, I never want to upset you. You don't have to tell me anything if you're not ready to do so. I can wait. But first…" You stood from your kneeling position and offered him a hand up. The way his demonic form had taken over from just your teasing had you desperate for him beyond belief. Not that your previous bouts of teasing him hadn't worked you up already. You needed him too. Now.

You laid flat on you back against the soft sheets, beckoning him closer with a curl of your finger. Lucifer finally flashed you a toothy grin and in an instant, snapped his fingers, completely removing all of his clothing. Normally he liked to make a show of his undress, but you were both too far gone to care at this point. His tail swished behind him as he excitedly climbed up to join you in bed. He stared down at your crotch, licking his forked tongue across his lips. Without hesitation, he removed your panties and spread your legs apart, taking in the sight of your completely drenched pussy. He leaned down quickly and began to leave sloppy kisses and nips along your inner thighs before stopping right at your entrance.

You chuckled lightly at his eagerness to please you. "Luci, you know you don't have to do this. Especially not after what I put you through today."

Lucifer, in response, let two of his fingers slide against your folds, earning a hardy moan from you. "Trust me when I say this, darling," his voice was low, dripping with lust, "I will never deny either of us this pleasure." You felt his steamy breath against your womanhood as he looked up at you with half-lidded eyes, sending a shiver down your spine. "You may want to hold on, sweetheart."

Without another word, Lucifer ran his snake-like tongue against your cunt like a starved man. You arched your back in pure ecstasy, unable to focus on anything other than the way he was making you feel. He hooked his arms underneath your legs and brought you as close to his face as physically possible, digging his claws into your soft thighs and wrapping his tail around your calf. You realized what he had meant with his last statement and reached out to grip his devilish horns. Your grasp forced a moan out of him as he worked his tongue on your sensitive nub, circling it relentlessly. You knew how skilled he was with his mouth, but it never failed to awe you every time he used it. It wasn't long before you felt a different sensation, that of two clawed finger thrusting into you at a rapid pace.

"Lu-Lucifer, fuck, f-feels so good," you whimpered in between your heavy breaths, "right-SHIT… right there, d-don't stop, please don't stop!" Your pleas only fueled Lucifer’s hunger for you and his desire to make you come undone around him. His tongue and fingers worked in tandem, bringing you closer and closer to your release. Your knuckles were turning white with the amount of force you were using to hold onto his horns. You let one hand drop to tug at Lucifer's hair, another broken moan escaping him as you did. His fingers curled up into you, hitting your g spot repeatedly as his lips sucked on your clit with reckless abandon. That coil in your stomach was on the verge of snapping. "S-so close…gonna c-cum, fuckfuckFUCK LUCIFER!," was the last thing you could utter before your walls clenched around his fingers, feeling yourself pulsate with waves of pleasure. Lucifer helped you ride out your orgasm while lapping up every drop that escaped your body as if it was the nectar of the gods. Once your body finally relaxed, Lucifer removed himself from your thighs, your mess glistening off his chin. He flashed you a wicked grin before using his tongue to clean up the remains of your essence from his face.

The King of Hell crawled up the length of your body until he was hovered directly above you. "I can truly never have enough of you, my queen," he praised. Through your lustful haze, your barely rational mind latched onto what he'd just said. Queen?, you thought, he's never called me that before. Not that you minded in the slightest, you loved it, in fact. Regardless, you clearly weren't in any condition to question his choice of words. Not when you were desperate for his cock to be buried inside you already.

Lucifer caught your lips, his tongue begging for entrance, to which you happily obliged. You could still taste a faint amount of yourself on his lips as your tongues met in a fiery display of passion, twisting and fighting against each other as if trying to establish dominance of the other. You pulled his head closer as he devoured you, saliva dripping down the side of your mouth as his tongue explored every inch of your mouth. His tail refused to recoil as it kept its grip on your lower leg. His hard on pressed against your thigh and you were becoming increasingly impatient. You whimpering against him and bucked your hips up, essentially begging for him to take you completely.

“Please…” was the only word you could force out once you pulled away from his lips. Lucifer smiled, pressing his lips against your ear just as you had done to him earlier.

“Your heart’s desire is my command,” he cooed as you finally felt that familiar pressure between your thighs that you so desperately craved. You felt the head of his cock finally press into your sopping wet cunt, slowing inching himself into you he bottomed out inside of you. You moaned together, now feeling completely whole. Together as one again. Out of nowhere, Lucifer’s wings sprang out behind him once he was fully sheathed inside of you, adding a bright angelic glow to his otherwise hellish appearance.

He was beautiful.

He laughed awkwardly, a hard blush spreading across his face. You reached up and captured his lips once more. He hummed into you, folding his wings around you, completely blocking the outside world. In that perfect moment, the only thing that existed was you and him. After what felt like an eternity, Lucifer finally began to shift his hips, pulling himself out only to thrust right back into you. Slowly at first, relishing every single mewl and whimper you let escape your throat as he rutted into you. But it wasn’t long until his pace quickened, the sound of your slapping skin driving him to the brink. He rested his forehead against yours, refusing to look away from your loving gaze. You felt that coil in your stomach begin to clench once more, making it near impossible to form any coherent sentence, the pleasure his cock was providing was overwhelming you in the best way possible. He noticed this and brough his hand between you two and started circling your already overstimulated clit. You were not going to last much longer. And you could tell his composure was falling apart at the seams as well.

"Hng…fuck…me," Lucifer stammered, his breath hitching on every word "close…I'm close, g-gonna…c-ffffuuucckkk!" He resorted to latching his sharp teeth onto your shoulder, causing small patches of blood to flow out as he came, his hot seed painting your walls white. His wings twitched and spasmed when he finished inside you. His orgasm coupled with his hard thrusts and torturing of your sensitive nub pushed you over the edge for a second time, screaming his name as you clenched around his thick cock. Lucifer lapped up the blood he had drawn from you before he collapsed on top of you, his demonic form finally subsiding, as you both tried your best to catch your breath. You both laid there for a minute or two before even thinking about moving again. Besides, you loved the feeling of his full weight on top of you, it was comforting.

"Remind me to tease you more often," you joked, running your fingers through Lucifer's soft blond hair. He shot his head up and glared at you with a clear 'don't even think about it' look. "I'm kidding! Mostly…" Lucifer rolled his eyes playfully and planted a small peck to your lips. He finally found the strength to pull out of you and roll over onto his side, exhaling heavily.

"That…didn't really go as planned," Lucifer chuckled nervously. Up until now, you had completely forgotten what had even led up to this moment! You guessed you weren't getting a new dress after all, not that you minded, you had more than enough in your closet as it was. "What SHOULD have happened was you were going to pick out a new dress, I was going to take you out on a beautiful romantic candlelit dinner, and then I...I was…" he paused and gulped. "Oh, to hell with it!" He quickly sat up straight and turned to you, using both of his hand to grab onto yours. You sat up as well, your stomach filled with butterflies for a reason you weren't really sure of. "You were right, you know. I was keeping something from you. I am a very bad liar and I'm even worse at keeping secrets. Especially from you. You told me that I didn't have to tell you right now. But that was the problem! I was fighting with every fiber of my being to not tell you immediately! Because I love you with all of my heart and soul and I want to spend the rest of eternity with you by my side and...and..." he exhaled harshly. With a wave of his hand, a small black velvet box appeared. "My love," he opened the box to reveal a ring, "will you do me the incredible honor of becoming my bride?"

You looked down at the precious jewelry before you. A golden snake for the band, with its body wrapped around a beautiful ruby gem in the shape of an apple. Your eyes swelled with tears, you couldn't stop them from flowing down your face. Lucifer panicked and started to wipe them away.

"I-I'm sorry! Please...please don't cry! I didn't mean to-HMPH!" His apologies were cut short when your lips found his. After you pulled away, you laughed, tears refusing to stop. Lucifer's mouth was agape.

"Yes, Lucifer," you bawled, "yes yes yes, a million times yes! Of course I'll marry you, I've never wanted anything more!"

Lucifer sat there in disbelief. But only for a moment before joining you in your crying, wrapping his arms tightly around you, both of your sobs echoing throughout the room.

"You've made me the happiest person in all of Hell, my dear," he cried as he peppered kisses all over your face, clearing away more of your tears. "I love you, from now until the end of time. I promise to be the best husband I can possibly be."

"You're already the best person for me, my King," you smiled. "You don't have to change a thing. I love you, Lucifer Morningstar."

"And I you, Mrs. Morningstar."

~~~~

Congrats on becoming the new Queen(s) of Hell babes 😘

Taglist: @alastor-deer-demon @kermitdafroggy @thonethatflies620 @luc1fersducky @a-okay-rj @bat-boness @myhornybrainonlyknowsthis @misfitgirlwrites @animationmovieshipps @orbitinglumps @ramenkitten @blaackbiird @bigfatbimbo @lucisaspen @bvnnyangel @seulace9 (I'm sorry if I missed anyone!)

[ladyoftheblades]

comfort

aegontargaryen x aemondswife!reader

synopsis: the war had caused a shift in aemond, brothel visits, questionable behaviour toward his family most of all his brother, and now news of his lover. his wife had had enough, turning her attention to a lover of her own,none other than the king

a/n: i really hate this but wanted to get it out of the way to focus on new things 😙i finished this drunk off of cosmopolitans and crying my eyes out about my fate, so maybe aegons breakdown is a little ooc.hope you enjoy anyway. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE and im dyslexic.

warnings: smut, p in v, dacryphilia, mutual cheating, descriptions of wounds and scars(not too much tho)

it was a young and uneasy night, sunrays still gracing the sky, dousing kings landing in twilight. the princess sat at the library, the book in her hands long cast aside in favour of staring out of the window. it was a useless thing anyhow, having done little to ease her worries. today was the day she was excpecting news of her husband, aemond targaryen, to arrive from harrenhall.

she knew the rumors surrounding the castle, it was a cursed place, full of mysteries and withcraft. it was especially dangerous for targaryens, since the time of the conquest when aegon burned it down.

aemond had gone to claim it in his brothers name. but the hour ran late yet the messenger had not come. she sat and stared, all of the worst scenarios playing in her head, turning and swirling her thoughts, sending waves of nausea to her stomach.

truth be told, her husband had displayed some very unusual behaviour of late. since the murder of luke by aemonds own hand, he had taken to visiting a brothel in the city. her immediate reaction was one of anger but once her confidants informed her he was visiting the same madam, a woman named silvy, the one who lay with him for the fist time when he was but a child of three and ten, she understood. his actions were not born of lust but of trauma. he had always treated her with respect and love, so in spite of her initial anger she found it in her heart to forgive him, to overlook his slight.

but his strange behaviour had not ended there. the war was taking a toll on him, she could tell. he always had a violent streak, yet he held great mastery over it, always calm and collected, only rarely losing control. the war brought out those tendansies, warping him into a beast of unquenched anger. after the battle of rooks rest, due to his brothers injuries he had been named prince regent which only expedited the change in him.

the battle of rooks rest was the oddest of the ocuurances. princess rhaenys had passed, killed by the joined efforts of aemond and aegon, the king and his dragon sustained grave injuries, incapacitating them fully, yet aemond and vaghar came out of it almost completely unscathed. the lady attempted to coax her husband into talking about the battle, yet every mention of it caused him to break out in a fit of anger or storm out of the room immedietly.

not one soul but aemond could give a complete account of the events, for the king refused to speak with anyone, stating he needed rest. but the account aemond gave was....lackluster. something was off, piesces loose on the tapestry he had paited of the events. if one could poke at it it was sure to come undone, yet the regent allowed none of it. the small council could raise little question, he was -for all intents and purposes- their soveirgn after all.

time went on, the sun hiding behind the western sea, taking all semblances of light with it, the sky now completely black. quite an unpleasant sight. a knock sounded at the door, the princesses heart began to race with unparalleled anxiety "enter, please" she shouted.

she had excpected an envoy from harenhall, one appointed by her, yet none came, in stepped the master of whisperers, lord larys strong. "my lady" he greeted, giving his best bow. "lord larys. i excpected an envoy from harenhall, have you come in his stead ?"

"yes, my lady" he walked further into the room, slowly reaching her spot by the window, taking a seat with great effort. "i must inform you, the nature of the information...is quite sensitive" her anxiety shot through the roof, chest thumping at a hundred kilometers an hour.

"has something happened to my husband ?" she said urgently. "do not fret my lady, the regent is in good health" the air shifted, her anxiety had calmed but something else, something more unsettling took over. what could possibly be of such sensitive nature ?

"go on" she said. "my informats have made me aware of the princes recent behaviours, since taking control of the caste, maybe even pre-"

"oh quit your theatrics and spit it out" her tone was now damn near yelling. the man infrotny of her was stalling, but games of court had no place in the concerns of a wife at alarm. larys took a deap breath "your husband has taken a lover, her name is alys rivers. i am told she works as a milkmaid in the castle, though rumors have it she is a witch"

her heart almost stopped. a lover ? she could excuse silvy, they shared a certain history. a lover ? a paramour ? one that was unpaid, and there to whisper in his ears the gods only know what ? too far. she stood up suddently and began to pace back and forth infron of the window. she continued that way quite a while, not uttering a single word, only flailing her hands in erratic movements, trying to wrap her head around the information, attempting to make sense of the storm of information now revealed to her. larys remained calm. his composure was almost...unnerving.

eventually he attempted to pull her out of her trance "i understand this must come as quite a shock, shall i call for a maester my lady ?" she halted her movements immedietly, regaining contact with reality, yet ever in internal disarray. "no, that is quite alright my lord. who else knows of this ?"

"no one, of yet. i came to inform you first, though i doubt it will remain private for much longer" she looked to larys, a knowing look in his mischievous eyes. information was his trade, and he had provided elite services, a reward was in order. "i thank you for your service lord larys, you may take your leave, your loyalty will not be forgotten, i assure you" with that he was satisfied, giving a final bow, he exited.

with the bang of the door agains its frame announcing larys exit, the emotions hit her all the same. what was she to do ? this was not her husband. war changed the souls of men, bringing forth the worst of their humanity. the brothels she could forgive, the anger excuse, hells she could even overlook the lover, but all three combined ? an insult. a hurtfull, heartbreaking insult, one that could not go unaccouted for.

she had yet to bear aemond any children, if this whore were to come with child, if she was to have a son, it would put her position in danger. semblances of solutions to mend the problem, to find her an explaination at the lest, flew around in her mind, yet she was far too disturbed to give any of them proper consideration. still in that strange trance of betrayal, she began to walk.

her feet acted on their own, unattatche dand seemingly unaffected by the storm that was her mind. they took her out of the library, tracing a path around the red keep. she walked and walked and the more she walked the more she thought and the more she thought the clearer her head became.

power was getting to aemonds head but he was not the ultimate authority, the king was. the root of her husbands behaviour was the death, or rather the murder, of lucerys but rooks rest was the turning point. if he would not provide an explaination, his brother would.

she had shared few words with her brother in law, far and inbetween, aemond always coming inbetween them to root out whatever semblance of a relationship they began to create before it could sprout. but he was pleasant, a little inappropriate in his jests and brash to a fault. he spoke his mind, did as he pleased, with no mind for consequences. the only thing that kept him alive quite frankly, was his position as the fist son, now king. all those qualities, once considered faults, now sounded refreshing. a stark contrast to the lies and masked intentions of others.

the king had locked himself away from the world following the battle of rooks rest. she had heard the whispers of his state, his appearance made up to be groutesque and unnerving. "unlike anything come of our realm" she had overheard one maidservant say.

she traced a path to the kings chambers. security was never strong in the keep anyway and she had memorised the schedule of the changing guard. she reached the hallway of his chambers just as the guards were tuning the other end.

she hadnt much time, begining to advance when suddently three maids exited the chambers in coplete dissaray, clothes soaked and the king audibly yelling from inside the rooms. they began to run in the opposite direction, their voices somewhere between whispers and shrieks, full of terror. something was amiss with the king, even mose so than usual. no matter, she could use the opportunity.

slowly she walked to the rooms, quietly slipping through the door.

"I SAID LEAVE" shouted aegon imedietly upon sensing her presance. the sight infront of her was truly something... the king lay in his tub, his back to her, watter spilled all around, no doubt by whatever had transipired beforehand. his body had been badly burned, maelys managed to damage his body so much, armour melted into his skin. even with his back to her, tub obscuring his visage, the damage to his shoulder and neck was visible.

she took a step forth "im sorry to disturb your grace though i believe you never asked me to exit". upon hearing her voice aegon made an attempt to crane his neck and look at her, the tension to his burns making him wince in pain, immedietly turning back around.

"please, your grace, do not exert yourself" she said, tentatively approaching. she soon reached him, finally able to look at him whole. the water obscured his visage from the waist down but the sight of his face and chest made her heart swell with hurt. the burns consumed the entire left side of his chest, expanding to his neck, fully engulfing the side of his face, even parts of his nose.

thought what struck her most was not his gruesome burns, he was far from such. in spite of the burns his face held a certain beauty, even on the scarred side.

he moved, ignoring the pain, turning away from her quizical gaze. "please, leave, just leave..." none of the previous anger was present, voice laced with only sadness and embarassment. he was voulnerable, oh so voulnerable, exposed, completely at the mercy of the world and his surroundings. she took the kings aversion as a challenge. "oh your grace, please, allow me"

she fell to her knees, the fabric of her dress becoming wet at contact with the floor. "i have no need of your pity" he muttered, face still turned. "i do not pity you, your grace, the scars of war are to be worn as a badge of honor, as proof of your bravery"

she could not see his face still but something told her he did not share that same oppinion. his burns had healed in their majority, forming an angry red scar. some areas remained sensitive, mostly underneath his arm, must be the parts where metal melted into him, she thought. she looked to the desk behind her, an assortment of ointments placed atop.

she looked to the labels on them, spotting one which wrote "after bath". she took it and oppened the top, the smell surprisingly pleasant. "did the maesters instruct a certain ammount be used ?" aegon shook his head no. he was still somewhat uneasy, yet did not deny the assistance.

she put some on her hands and began to apply it to his torso. it must have worked instantaniously for the king eased, becoming accostumed to her presance, and moved his head to finally look at her. she did not return his gaze however, only continuing her movements.

he studied her hands with searing intensity, periodicaly giving satisfied hums. they kept like that a while, the king growing more and more comfortable as time went on. untill she reached his face.

by now it was near impossible not to look at him, yet she resisted. she completed his cheek, and moved to the area around his eye. before she could contunue though, he raised his good hand from the water and grabed hers. his fingers wrapped around her wrist threatening to leave a bruise. she paused, ever so cautious. "y-your grace, i cannot continue if-"

"Look at me." he comanded. she complied, finally looking in his eyes. they were absolutely beautifull, grayish blue hues morroring those of the sea on a moody day, color only accentuated by the candelight. they hid something, something intense yet he dared not reveal it to her, as if her learning of it would embarass him.

"what do you see when you look at me ?" he asked. she was somewhat taken aback by such a question, still she made no attempt to back away, in too deep already. whatever the king wanted she had to comply with. she took a moment to think, knowing the wrong answer might cost her her life. " a boy"

"is that how you see your king truly ? as a boy ?"

"my king is a fierce and brave warrior forged by fire and blood, the one infront of me named aegon targaryen is a boy"

his face began to change, the walls built around his soul slowly coming down, eyes verging on betraying their secret. he removed his hand from her wrist, allowing her to contunie apllying the ointment. she brought her hand forth to his eye, the king leaving a sigh of relief, tilting his head back. she turned around to place the jar to its place, by the time she turned to aegon once again he was looking right at her, head tilted back, eyes dark and playfull. if she looked closely she could even see a smile playing at his lips.

"comfortable, your grace ?" she said, attempting to match his playfulness. he gave a chuckle "very. you my lady ?"

"very" she mirrored his reply. she closed the distance between them, now putting her hand on the good side of his chest, begining to rub soothing circles on his alabaster skin. he enjoyed the contact, she could tell, the smile on his lips turning from one of mischief to one of satisfaction. she knew she could not keep it up for long, her visit was now devoid of purpose, she would have to come up with soemthing quick-

"i never did ask, why are you here ?" he broke her train of thought. she stopped the movement of her hand, moving it instead to play with his hair.

"i have been discarded by my husband im afraid and ... i understood you to be in a similar position. i thought... i thought maybe we could be alone together" she looked straight to his eyes as she uttered that, finalising her last word with an afectionate tuck of his hair beneath his ear. she waited, frozen, afraid of having said the wrong thing, the one that would set him off. yet as time passed, tortourously, kicking her gut harder and harder as it went on, his demeanor went unchanged.

"at first you think me a boy, and now discarded. i ought to have your tongue for that" he moved his hand, the scarred one, to cradle her chin as he delivered his words. yet his toutch was neither threatening, nor malicious. no, he was playing, he wanted a game but more than that.... he was looking for something in her. comfort she had provided already, trust, perhaps ?

she made no attempt to remove her face from his hand, the contact sending shocks through her body... it had been a while since her and her husband had been intimate... the sole attention of the king was something else entirely. "are you not, then ? discarded ? are you not lonely ?"

the game was on. he seized her up, looking to find what he wanted, she spoke again "if you have no need of company, should i take my leave ?" immedietly his fingers dug into her skin "i said no such thing" she gave a smile of satisfaction.

"you admit it then, you are lonely, just as i" her voice was laced with nothing but warmth, coaxing out of aegon his true nature, breaking down any remainants of walls around his heart. "just as you" he spoke, voice but a whisper, a glint of recognition in his eyes.

"we are one in the same. i see you as you are" her words rang true, they were one in the same, cast aside, stripped of their agency, starved of affection, all due to aemond. a wave of boldness washed over her. she moved closer to aegon, head resting on his shoulder, cautious not to disturb any parts not yet healed.

"why did you so rudely dismiss your maids ?" he took in a sharp breath "they thought of me as a beast. i saw it in their eyes, the disgust. besides, they knew not what they were doing, before they even began i could smell the incompetence. i could not allow they stay"

"then why allow me ?" she said, craning her head, looking now to his eyes. "i can trust you. as you said... you see me." she gave a small smile. he drank up the encouragement like a man starved.

"we may help eachother then. i see something troubles you, tell me my king, how may i be of assistance ?"

"my troubles are no secret, these scars trouble me, my face, my... my incapacitation." "oh aegon" she uttered quickly, moving from her spot on the floor, still on her knees, standing behind her king now, hands snaking around his shoulders unashamedly. her head went to his good side, chin toutching shoulder. "aemond may be regent but you... you remain king. ofcourse you are capable, you may rule from your own bed if you wish, council be damned."

a sob rattled his body. she pressed her arms further into him, attempting to stiffle his sadness for every tear of his shook her to her core. something about this man, with all the power of the realm at his fingertips being so voulnerable, putting his heart in her hands and trusting her to protect it, something aemond had not once done, it made her wish to hold onto him and never let go.

he began to weep openly, hiding his face in the crook of her arms. everyone looked at him and saw only what they wanted, be it a king, a rake, an incompetent fool... no one saw him for him, not even his own mother could recognise the pain festering in his body, the unfairness of the situation she put him in. he was given all the power in the realm with no say of his own fate. destined to live a life soely for the sake of others, faithfully serving the realm, his family, his mother, his counsil, never making a choice for his own. and then he was punished for it, punished for all he had no input in, by none other than his own brother, his own blood. ofcourse she knew naught of it, but the way she held him, so tight, so firm, as if she would take away all his pain and pour the love of the world on his skin the same way she had done that ointment, it only made him want to cry more, overwhelmed by the emotion.

she held him close and did not let go, not when the tears ran a salty stream on his face, not when the snot began to fill his nose,making his sobs sound all the more pathetic, not when his hands left bruising marks on her arms, possesively keeping them close, afraid they would be taken from him. she only endured, giving small tuts and shushes as well as little praises here and there.

eventually his sobs ceased, leving him sensitive, puffy faced and shuddering. she tennatively pulled her arms away, much to aegons disapointment, moving to the table once again,bringing a clean piece of cloth to his face. he took it greatfully and began to clean it somewhat.

"your grace ?"

"i just try so hard, all i do i do to please but-" tears threatened once again to spill from his pretty eyes, the princess would do anything to prevent such a thing.

"your grace, aegon, you neednt please anyone, you are far from perfect but you deserve to be treated well, to have your sacrifices recognised"

"they do not respect me"

"fuck them then. you are king, you may impose your authority over the council, you have a mind and a heart, and you can make as strategic a descision as any of them. i will be the fist to support you" his gaze fell to hers, blue eyes further acentuated by the redness brought about by his tears, mouth slightly open, heavy breaths escaping with great difficulty, his eyes from hers to her lips, to her eyes again. she moved her face forward, minimising the distance between them.

she thought of the correct words to say to comfort him, any plan of coaxing truth out of him long forgotten. she had come in with a plan, but his behaviour, his trust in her washed all of that away. she thought yet no words came to he

"aemond is a fool to hurt you"

"aemond is a fool to undermine you" his body reacted on its own, as if possesed by the emotions rooted in his chest so deep and so intense no logic could reach them, and so he kissed her.

his lips were so soft, having been spared, they moved on hers, full of raw intensity. practice attempted to prevail, aegons many conquests having taught him all he needed, yet could not, overrun by emotion. he had no control of his movements, kissing her now like a knight sworn to celibacy, unacustomed to the woea of women, wishing only to express his courtly love.

she pressed onto him harder, taking control of the kiss, hands falling to his face, one on his good side immedietly gripping his jaw, giving back the same desperation he had shown. immedietly upon the contact he oppened his mouth, leaving a whine and allowing her tongue acess. her other hand, ever so carefull not to hurt him, gently rested on his jaw, affraid of horting him.

he broke the kiss, speaking in between pants " my face is-is healed, do not hesitate just toutch me-" and so she did, ever so eager to please her king. the kiss deepened, all the sloppier, all the more desperate, all the more emotional, untill it was not enough to express their devotion.

"are-uh- are other... areas..healed, of yet ?" his face franticaly moving up and down, "yes, all the areas-" he chuckled, a hearty chuckle, such a lovely sound "all the areas of interest are healed, please "

she understood. she rose to her feet and began undoing her gown. aegon watched from his seat, staring patiently, adoration filling his beautifull ocean eyes. it took her a bit to undo the back laces of the dress, she hastily tore it from her body, heavy fabric immedietly falling to the floor, leaving her in only her small clothes, a sheer gown, off white in color, devoid of embelishments, but softly draping over her form.

her body was a painting, brought before aegon to feast his eyes upon. his patience was wearing thin. he moved his hand to toutch her, blocked by her stepping back "please, my king, allow me" he gave a small pout, obeying none the less.

she spared no time in giving him what he wanted, fulfilling finally their shared wish. one leg at a time, she entered the still-somehwat-warm water but faltered, hesitating to put her weight on him,ever so afraid of causing aegon pain.

he sensed her hesitation "its ok, just toutch me, please" desperation filled his body, threatening to chocke him, laced in every word from his lips.

she brought their faces together again, his mouth spilling desperation into hers with every kiss. her hands became unafraid, egged on by aegons words, resting on his chest, one of them reaching further and further down, tracing featherlike lines with her fingers, untill they reached where she wanted. she took aegons cock in one hand, halfhard already, leading him to release a pleading whimper. "good boy" she uttered.

caution thrown to the wind, the praise getting to his head, aegon moaned oppenly. as she began to stroke him, his moans got more and more desperate, each movement of her wrist sending waves of pleasure to his body. much like her he had been starved of affection, all sort of affection, he was desperate to take whatever she was willing to give. "oh gods-"

she shushed him by graciously placing her lips on his, resuming their previous kisses. but it was nowhere near enough for aegon. his hands found purchase on her gown, bunching up the fabric, tugging desperatly. he wanted, nay needed more. he began to tug the gown upwards, a pleading movement, asking of her to be as voulnerable as himself. she was oh so ready to provide.

she took his hands into hers, guiding them to take the gown off, finally it went up, revealng her stomach and breasts to him. immedietly he moved, taking her form into his arms, placing kisses on her colarbone, wasting no time to go lower and lower, reaching her breasts. he took a nipple in his mouth suching in tandem with her thrusts. the princess threw her head back, moaning with her full chest, uncaring of the world around them.

her hand never faltered, his cock began to twitch with his impending release. he detatched from her body, panting like a dog on a dry day, each inhale sending waves of equal parts oxygen and lust in his brain, making his vision hazy. he was not ready to give her up yet.

"p-please, please, im close"

she halted her movements. aegons disapointment traced a path from his abdomen all the way to his throat, releasing a pained whine. his hands moved on her back, clutching her sides for support, the pleasure so rudely torn from him and the previous exhaustion, leaving him stranded in the storm that is the haze in his mind.

"why my darling ? did, did i do something ?" it came out almost more as a cry than a question. "no, aegon, ofcourse not, youre perfect"

his chest fell in relief, lips immedietly finding hers, a kiss of graditude. a kiss of praise. "but im not done with you quite yet. i only wish to please my king after all"

her hand moved to his cock again, she pulled her hips down simultaniously, guiding it to her entrance. his tip barely teased her entrance and he was already a goner. he thrust his hips upwards, chasing the contact he craved so much. "patience, your grace"

she moved his tip forth, coming into contact with her pearl, sending jolts of pleasure to both of them. aegon was on the verge of becoming undone, barely clinging onto his sanity. she gave him a tutt, looking down onto her voulnerable king, his eyes already on hers, looking through his lashes, void of inhibitions and filled with unimaginable lust.

"please" he whispered, begging, such a man brought down by one woman, broken down onto the barest pesces of his soul by the world, pu to gether again by her toutch. "yes, your grace"

finally, finally, she brought her hips down. his cock entered inch by excruciating inch, untill finally she settled, having taken him whole. she resisted moving though, taking strands of silver hair on the nape of his neck, tugging his head to her chest, burrying it between her breasts. his desperatuon had reached a tipping point, this simple act sending him over the edge, sobs wreacking his body once again.

"ooh, my boy, did i pain you ?"

"it just, it feels good. youre so good to me" he muttered, head still buried in her chest and burrowing further, leaving sloppy kisses on her flesh and sucking marks surely with the intent to leave a reminder of him. "aww my darling, do not fret, i will take care of you, just you wait"

she gave his head little reassuring scratches, attempting to ground him somewhat, preparing the boy under her for what was to come. cautiously she began to move her hips. the sobs wrecking her own body just as much as his, only giving her more courage.

the water of the tub began to sway, more and more and more, she picked up her pace, moving her hands through his back, tracing the rough parts of his scars, the sensitivity of those areas adding to his pleasure. her pace picked up further, frantic hip movements rocking the entirety of the tub, the furniture begining to scratch against the floor.

aegon could take it no longer, amidst sobs and moans he began to move is own hips, matching the pace of the princess. his movements executed with no semblance of grace nor purpose, only focused on his own pleasure, seeking retribution for his lost orgasm.

the tub rocked, water splashing all around, aegons sobs turned to little whimpers, salty tears mixing with his spit on his ongoing assault to her chest. her movements began to falter, close to finishing, the white-hot pleasure in her abdomen threatening to burst. her body began to tremble lightly, yet she kept her composure, still in servitude of her king. he was in no better state, cock begining to twitch once again.

he was so so close, and not about to stand for this one to be taken away from him aswell. she took notice of the familiar signs he displayed "im close, aegon, so close"

he took this as a sign to let go, holding her body down with all the strength he could muster, forcefully, halting her movements, selfish for once, taking what he wanted. her orgasm hit her with that final forcefull push on his cock, pleasure exploding from her abdomen, rocking her body while from toes to fingers, face twisting in an expression of absolute extasy, brows knitted together and mouth slightly agape. aegon peeked from her chest, looking up to her face, illuminated by the candles, light softly cradling her features, exposing to his hungry eyes her beautifull expression, the mutters from his mouth a prayer to her beauty.

his own orgasm took over his body, sending a final sob through his mouth, a final wave of tears to his eyes, hot seed spilling inside of her.

they stayed that way a while, her hands cradling his head, his own softening on her hips, softly massaging them, attoning for the shelfish way he had taken his pleasure.

she craned her head down, giving a final kiss to his lips, soft and innocent, unlike any previously shared. he looked so utterly mesmerised by her, though he would not say it, she knew, the same as he did, she kew this meant so much to him. they remained that way, sitting in their understanding, she would do anything for her king and he anything for his lover.

she had come in search of answers to her husbands behaviour yet was left with something different, better. she had gained an ally, more than, she had gained her first genuine friend, her very own lover.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Heart V

Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: You're sick

Ingrid knew there would be health issues throughout your life. She knew that routine doctor's appointments would happen every year for you. She knew that the medication you took lowered your immune system.

She knew that at some point, you'd get sick.

She didn't realise it would be this quickly.

You woke with the sniffles which turned into a sore throat and then a headache and a bad tummy. It all spiralled from there.

It started on the weekend.

Saturday was spent going to a check up. Sunday was game day but on the drive home, you threw up all over yourself.

Monday was a day off and it was clear that you had no hope of getting better quickly. You were sniffly and tearful and it was an all-around bad time for everyone.

They take it in shifts with you. Ingrid stays with you for one half of the night. Mapi takes the rest of it.

There's twenty minute powernaps fitted in between it all when they can manage but most of their time is spent up with you as you struggle to find sleep.

"Mapi!" Ingrid calls," Come on, we've got to get to the car!"

She paces the length of the apartment with you in her arms. Your nose is all stuffy and you've woken up with the worst case of blocked ears of your life.

It's clear your ears are giving you the most grief. You whine and huff and desperately pull at them as if it will dislodge the build up in them.

Mapi's getting changed from her evening shift with you and Ingrid can do nothing but pace and pat your back in the hope of settling you back down.

It's been another bad night. You slept in short half an hour bursts in between crying, puking and crying some more.

Mapi skids into the room, still in her socks as she throws things into your bag, stocking up on medicine and water and your favourite toys. She hops around the room as she forces her shoes onto her feet before practically sprinting out of the door.

You make it to training just on time despite your awful wails the entire journey.

Patri and Pina both wince as Ingrid walks in with your sobbing form.

"What's wrong with her?"

"She's sick," Ingrid says plainly," Badly. The doctor said it's the flu."

As if to prove her point, you burst into a violent coughing fit and Mapi is instantly trying to soothe your throat with water as soon as it's over.

"Did you give her medicine?"

Ingrid angrily drops her bag into her cubby. "Oh, wow, Patri! What a revolutionary concept?! Giving medicine to my sick toddler! Why didn't we think of that?!" She snaps.

Ingrid sighs deeply as she looks at herself in the mirror.

"Sorry," She says after a long breadth of silence," I'm tired. I didn't mean to shout."

"No," Patri says quickly," You've clearly got a lot on your plate. I hope the little one feels better soon."

There's a respite briefly during training when you decide the hot Barcelona sun is perfect for napping in and you sleep under a tree nearby, wrapped up in a blanket despite the warm weather.

Mapi learnt very quickly not to fight you when you said you were cold despite the fever ravaging your body. All she can do is hope that the extra warmth breaks your fever so you can feel better when you wake up.

She's kind of happy with the outcome of your nap.

You've sweated out your fever which is good but you still feel bad. Your nose is still stuffy and you keep rubbing at your ears to unblock them.

The worst part of this now is that you've got clingier than ever before. You latch onto Mapi as soon as you see her and refuse to let go.

She's kind of glad all they're doing now is general fitness stuff because there's no way she could do anything technical with you still attached.

It's pushing it doing fitness stuff too but Mapi had come prepared.

It was an impulse purchase when you first fell sick and Ingrid had laughed until she cried when it arrived. Mapi was not dissuaded and she brought out her purchase, ignoring the snickering from Patri and Pina behind her.

With you still clingy and wanting nothing more than to crawl into Mami's skin, you let her manipulate your limbs into the toddler carrier.

She straps you in and then straps it to her chest.

She stands and has to find her balance quickly before triumphantly turning around to show everyone her solution.

They all laugh but Mapi doesn't care, not with the way you relax so easily against her and not when you fall into another fitful sleep.

[knoxic]

How to be a High Lady?

Eris Vanserra x Mate!Reader (f)

Summary: Reader's first meeting as a HL, Rhysand makes some comments and reader chews him out, then smut🤭

wc: 2,8k

warnings: oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v, Rhysand slander, might be some ??shit there sorry I wrote this instead of sleeping

part 2

How they met

Her expectations for her first meeting as High Lady weren't very high, obviously there would be judgment and doubt given who her High Lord is, surely there would be some snarky remarks.

༄

Eris had spent the last couple of day trying to remind her that she deserved the title, that she was already proving herself to be a good High Lady, that their court could already see it. Perhaps him being her mate had dulled the effect his words would have on her had it been someone's.

As soon as she accepted the mating bond Eris had took it upon himself to spoil her, never wanting to see her as low as she was when they first met, it was his personal mission to make sure she knew were she belonged, and that was right beside him, sitting in her throne wearing a golden crown made specially for her. He'd never let her doubt herself ever again, for he knew what she was capable of.

"That's a little questionable, coming from you," she ran her fingers through his hair, tucking a few strands behind his pointy ear, "But thank you, you always know what to say." She had received a pout and what seemed to be the best try at puppy eyes his fierce ones could manage.

༄

The rational part of her brain knew that being High Lady wouldn't be an easy feat, never mind being one in Autumn Court, but there'd been some noticeable change already. Bakers in the village she had visited days before greeting her with smiles and free pastries, farmers thanking her for being the reason Beron was dead and now they could receive a decent salary. Somehow, they respected her.

Almost a century ago, when Eris first brought up the idea of making her High Lady, she had laughed at how absurd if was, imagine, a High Lady in Autumn? Yeah, right. But he was serious, so serious he spent the whole night stressing on it, by the time the sun had risen she had decided to at least know more about what it took to rule a court. After days of researching in any library she could find in Autum, she realized a good part of what she'd "learned" were things she already knew but hadn't really thought about, others were hard concepts that she supposed would go to Eris when they became High Lord and Lady of Autumn.

She doesn't remember how nor when she agreed, but she did.

༄

As soon as they stepped foot in Day, their hands entwined, she felt some glances being thrown her way, whispers catching her ears when she sat beside Eris. His hand squeezing hers made her lock eyes with him, those amber eyes comforting any doubts she might had been feeling before.

"Hi! I don't think we've been introduced before, I'm Viviane." She had heard things about the female, how she took care of Winter when Kallias was stuck Under the Mountain, that surely wasn't easy, if someone deserved being High Lady it was her.

Viviane sat beside her, after pleasantries were exchanged conversations just flowed, their mates watching their interaction silently. It appeared that, as usual, the Night Court would be making their dramatic appearance being late to the meeting, and as everyone waited for them, the rest of the High Lords were simply talking between themselves or watching the others interact.

"It'll be nice to have another female here, there's too many males here." Viviane giggled.

"Meetings with Autumn's advisors already give me headaches, I can only imagine your suffering." They laughed a little before the room fell utterly silent. Night Court had arrived.

"We should do this again some time soon, just us." Viviane whispered and gave her a wink before straightening up in her chair and taking Kallias hand between hers.

Now it starts. She felt Eris tense beside her but didn't say anything, knew the image he still sell, instead, she watched Rhysand and Feyre marching towards their chairs, their hands clasped together, the Shadowsinger and the Lord of Bloodshed right behind them, and in the midst of them was... Morrigan.

As Rhysand sat, his eyes locked onto mine, a smirk dancing in his lips, glancing between Eris and me I could see the thoughts running in his head.

"Oh, Eris... Is that, the precious mate of yours?" His voice in a sickly tone of amusement, "I thought you'd hide her forever." He knew the game he was playing, his words were a simple attempt to test Eris, to paint an image that he'd lock me up like Beron did to his mother.

"Whatch your tongue, Rhysand, before I burn it to ash." Eris didn't falter, his tone still cocky as ever. He took great pleasure in showing her off. "But to answer your question, yes, she is my precious mate."

She could see that Rhysand had a bitter comment on the tip of his tongue but was cut off by Helion, who asked something she did not pay attention to, violet eyes still challenging her to look away first, perhaps he was trying to test her or for him it was simply fun to intimidate others. His mate made him break the staring, Eris' hand squeezed mine as soon as he did, I looked at him and the different between his and Rhysand's eyes was outstanding. Eris looked at her as if saying 'say the word and we'll leave' as he did everytime they were in public.

The rest of the meeting went by in a blur, so far she hadn't heard anything that required her to say something, so she was quiet, until Autumn was brought into conversation and Eris let out that she was now High Lady. Rhysand had laughed, laughed as if Eris had told him a joke.

"Really, a High Lady? In Autumn?" His right eyebrow lifted, "What are you playing, Eris? Do you think your court would like you more if you pretend she's in command? Come on..."

"Why did you make Feyre a High Lady?" Eris bit back but his voice remained cocky.

"Do not bring my mate into this."

"You bring mine, I bring yours." Eris tilted his head as if taunting him. "It's a fair question, she's a child–"

"Watch your next words, Eris," Azriel spoke for the first time, "One of them might get stuck in your throat."

"Why do you care, Rhysand? Why does it matter for you if I'm High Lady or not?" Her voice was low and calculated, if she raised it then the Shadowsinger would turn to her and Eris would lose his temper.

"It doesn't matter to me. Though I must say, only a fool would believe he made you High Lady for pure reasons–"

"Don't you think I'm a High Lady because I can be a High Lady?"

"Perhaps not. What do you have of so special you think you can be one?"

"My mate is a High Lord, according to you that should be enough," she continued before he could say anything, "But unlike Feyre I didn't turn High Lady overnight. Maybe I don't have anything special, I just spent decades learning what it takes to be a High Lord, studying the behavior of one and I must say yours is controversial, as was Beron but that's another history."

"What do you mean?" Rhysand had risen from his chair by now, the Illyrians behind him seething.

"Being a High Lord– or High Lady, means you take care or your court, therefore you take care of your people. Velaris is known for being a beautiful place but what of the rest of your court? Hewn City has been in shambles for centuries and you've been High Lord for almost 500 years, what have you done in that time to help them? Rhetorical question, nothing, at least nothing that matters anyway. About the Illyrian camps, the females now are able to learn how to fight but is it even worth it if you don't even have a safe home to go? So many things are begging for help but instead of helping, you just brag about your powers."

"What do you know about my court?" She could swear the room had turned a tad darker.

"Enough to know that, in spite of your judgement, we are doing a far better job at ruling than you are."

"You dare talk about my court and now you criticize the way I rule my own court?" The room was definitely darker, and colder, her left hand felt warmer than the rest of her body, courtesy of Eris. "Who do you think you are?"

"A High Lady."

The room fell silent for a moment, maybe her choice of words was too much for someone so new at this meetings. Rhysand still glared at her with those violet eyes promising death, two other pair of eyes shined behind him, calling for her to look, she didn't look away from Rhysand until a voice spoke up.

"She has a point. A great point of view, proves you're apt for ruling and wants what's best for Autumn, it'll be nice to see such a beautiful place grow." Helion voice was soft, albeit hesitant, and he seemed honest when his lips turned into a gentle smile, which she reciprocated easily. Mornings spent trying new pastries with Eris mother had them talking about her mysterious past lover who she'd then come to learn was Day's High Lord, perhaps that was why he looked forward to seeing Autumn grow, he was looking forward to the day she'd feel free. "I also believe the meeting is over, we should all get some rest for tomorrow, you're all welcome to stay here."

Eris stood up still holding her hand, a sign for her to follow, as they started walking towards the door his hand found place in her lower back, a small demonstration of protectiveness. She'd have to reward him later for being so patient today, not letting his temper get the best of him, at least for her first meeting.

༄

"You did so good today, my love." Eris told her as soon as they walked into their bedroom, his arms finding their way around her waist, holding her from the back, his straight nose nuzzled her neck the way he knew she loved.

"You think? Maybe I said too much..."

"Why, think they'll find out? Listen," he pulled back so she could turn in his arms but still held her waist, "Let them, you'll gain their respect a way or another, Helion already likes you, he'd be delighted to have a witch as smart as you to talk to about spells, the rest will follow suit."

"You know what I meant."

"I know, you did nothing wrong, your power gave you the knowledge for a reason, you used it to tell Rhysand how he's failing his own court, if anyone should apologize is him to his own people, not you." To make a point he gave her nose a small kiss, "But... I don't think he'll do anything at all."

"Yeah... He had many chances and time to change things, and he hasn't." She leaned her body against his, his hands moved behind her back and she felt her dress loosen up, "Thank you for behaving today, I guess you deserve a reward." She pulled back to smile at him, trying to appear innocent.

"Stop that," he laughed, "I wouldn't be opposed to that, but, I think I'd rather reward you. For standing up for yourself and your court, for not being intimidated so easily, you held you own and I'm proud of you."

Eris started pressing gentle kisses on her cheek and all the way down her neck while his hands slipped to her shoulders, pulling the fabric from her body and letting if fall to the floor. Her hands made quick work to unbutton his vest, wanting to have less clothing separating them.

His hands squeezed her bottom before slipping down her thighs and pulling her up, walking towards the bed while still kissing and nipping at her neck. One of her hands found place at the back of his head while the other found his cheek, a sign for him to kiss her lips.

As he kneeled on the bed and laid her down, he leaned back to pull off his vest and linen shirt, her undergarments following right after. Their kissed turned more more heated, his hands roamed through her whole body, gripping her tightly. When they pulled back to breath, his cheeks were a bright shade of red, as they always were around her.

Instead of going back to her lips, his mouth went to her stomach, kissing and licking, going up to her breasts and down her hipbone, his hands pulling her thighs up to rest on his shoulders while his mouth made delicate work of kissing her cunt. Pressing kisses and gentle kitten licks on her clit down to her entrance, teasing it with his tongue and going back to her clit, sucking harshly and soothing it with kitten licks again. When he deemed her wet enough, his fingers joined, middle and ring finger, clad with his wedding band, thrusting slowly and curving upwards while his mouth resumed licking and sucking her clit.

His unoccupied hand, which previously remained clasped tightly around the flesh of her tight, now brushed his fingers around her stomach, lightly running his fingernails through her skin making her erupt with goosebumps, his fingers thrusting into her quickening, her walls were squeezing him and he knew she wouldn't last long. Sucking specially hard on her clit and curving his fingers how he knew she liked, she came with a whimper, thighs shaking around his shoulders, he stills his fingers as to not overwhelm her but his tongue still licked her cunt, precisely avoiding her clit.

When she calmed down he pulled his fingers back and licked her clean of her cum, careful to not go so fast, when he was done he pulled back and leaned her body on hers so they could kiss, making her taste herself on his lips. Her hands roamed the expanse of his scarred back, up to the back of his neck and down to the waistband of his trousers, which she pushed as low as she could reach, a sign he took to get rid of them.

Him standing up gave her a full view of his body, he was lean and yet full of muscles, scars here and there that didn't compare to the ones in his back. General Eris Vanserra was handsome, High Lord Eris was still handsome but he was also elegant and charming. The Eris she had when they were in the intimacy of their bedroom was beautiful, a beautiful male and even beautiful mate and husband, he was a broken male that managed to stitch himself back together and remain good and he was beautiful.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He was kneeling back on the bed, his hands caressing her legs.

"Because I love you, and you deserve to be admired, Eris." She could swear his cheeks had turned a tad darker, even his ears were tinged pink.

Eris didn't say anything back, just leaned over to capture her lips, gentle this time, slowly parting them with his own and brushing his tongue with hers, licking and sucking on the tip of her tongue. When his hips touched hers she snuck a hand down their bodies to align his cock with her entrance, he gave a few small thrusts to tease her before fully thrusting himself inside her, when they did they moaned in unison. Together they were far from the people they were moments ago, together they didn't have titles or expectations to live up to, together they could just be and they didn't even have to say anything, their movements were unhurried and their sounds were quiet, all heavy breathing and small noises.

Eris' thrusts faltered every now and then, followed by a whimper of his own, one of his hands was tangled in her hair while the other held her face gently, stroking her cheek with his thumb while they kissed. Her legs kept to his sides, caressing him in any way she could, her kept changing between holding his arms and holding his shoulder or hair.

Their bodies had a thin layer of sweat, her cunt throbbing made Eris lose his rhythm, when he found he started thrusting faster, his hand is her hair tightened and they could barely focus on kissing, their mouths just hanging open with heavy breaths and the occasional stroking of tongues was they could manage. Their moans were getting louder, his hips meeting hers harder, their bodies slipping with sweat, his forehead met hers when they tipped over the edge, groans and whimpers mingling together through the bedroom. His seed hot inside her doing wonders to soothe her want for him.

When they calmed down enough to move, Eris rolled beside her and pulled to his sweaty chest, usually they'd bathe but they were both too spent to do anything else, at least for a while.

[cowboybeepboop]

Addicted

"But you're different. You've got me on my damn knees here, and I don't even care."

“On your knees? Now that's something I’d like to see.”

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut, romantic

Word count: 5.4k

Summary: A one night stand with Hangman leaves him desperate and begging for more.

Warnings: Public sex, making Jake beg, p in v sex, riding him, oral fem receiving, unprotected sex.

a/n: Not really much to say other than I hope you enjoy <3 Also send any requests my way, could be for anything :)

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the airstrip as the jets roared by, their engines a deafening symphony that seemed to shake the very earth beneath your feet. You had always loved this time of day, the way the light painted everything in hues of gold and red, making even the most mundane tasks feel like a scene from a Hollywood blockbuster. But today, the sight of the planes brought with it a feeling of anxiety rather than excitement. Training with Maverick was intense, and as one of the few women in the program, you knew you had to be twice as good to be considered half as good.

The bar was dimly lit, the kind of place where pilots went to unwind after a long day of pushing the limits of gravity. You scanned the room, spotting the familiar faces of your colleagues, all of them men. The only other woman present was Nat, known as Phoenix, a fellow Top Gun graduate who had become your closest ally in this male-dominated world. She sat at the bar, her eyes lighting up as she saw you, offering a nod that seemed to say, "You can handle this."

Bob, with his boyish grin and easy-going demeanor, was the first to stand up and greet you. He pulled out a chair, offering it with a gallant flourish. "You're looking as sharp as ever, Y/N," he said, his voice carrying a hint of admiration that made your cheeks warm. You sat down, grateful for the respite from the catcalls and lewd comments that had been thrown your way since you walked in.

As you chatted with Bob and Phoenix, you couldn't help but notice the blond man across the room, his eyes locked on you like a homing missile. You had heard rumors about him—Hangman, they called him—a cocky pilot with a reputation for leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake. His stare was unnerving, a silent challenge that seemed to say, "I'm going to make you mine." You ignored him, focusing on the conversation and the cold beer in your hand, but the heat of his gaze was impossible to ignore.

As you’re sitting with the two, talking, the man starts walking over towards you, coming to a stop next to Phoenix with a smirk on his handsome face. You look up at him curiously while Nat gives him a stern glare. “What do you want, Bagman?” she questions him with an accusatory tone.

He chuckles and rolls his eyes, standing beside her, leaning his hip against the bar. "Can't a guy say hello without getting into trouble?" He joked, his eyes flickering over to you.

He looked you up and down slowly, a cocky grin on his lips. "I don't think we've met before." He muses, extending his hand out. "I'm Hangman, but you can call me Jake."

“I’m Y/N.” you ignore his extended hand, leaning closer to Bob to add distance between you and Hangman.

He raised an eyebrow as you ignored his hand, a smirk playing at his lips. "Playing hard to get, huh?" He teased, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's cute."

He glanced over at Bob for a moment, taking his hand back and stuffing it in his pocket. "You two a thing?" He asked casually, his eyes flickering over to you again.

Bob opens his mouth to deny being with you. “Actually, yes we are.” you grin, taking Bob’s hand in your own. Right now you were relying on him to take the hint and play along with you.

Hangman's smirk faded slightly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you and Bob holding hands. He couldn't deny that he was a little surprised, he assumed you were friends. He tried to brush it off, but a hint of jealousy stirred inside him.

Unfortunately your plan to get Hangman to back off by pretending to date Bob, was going less than swimmingly. It seems he doesn’t care whether you're already spoken for or not. The evening drags on with him still sending heated glances full of desire your way.

Eventually, you decide to call it a night, as you say your goodbyes and start to head out of the bar, Hangman's attention is immediately caught by your departure. He watches you exit, his eyes following you as you make your way to your jeep.

He debates for a moment, contemplating whether or not to follow you. His desire wins out, and he makes up his mind to follow you. He says his own goodbyes to the group and discreetly follows you outside, keeping a couple of paces behind you.

“Are you going to say something? Or are you just planning to keep following me like some creep?” you lean against the hood of your car, arms crossing under your chest, eyes narrowing at him.

Hangman freezes as you turn around and call him out. He hadn't expected you to notice him so quickly.

He smirks and steps closer, closing the distance between you both. "Just admiring the view," he drawls, his eyes roaming over your form shamelessly.

“Oh is that so?” you hum, gazing up at him with an unreadable expression.

"Absolutely." He nods and leans against the jeep beside you, standing so close that your bodies nearly touch.

He looks down at you, his eyes darkening slightly. "You and Bob, huh?" He comments casually, a hint of a taunt in his tone.

“Are you jealous?” you reply with a teasing smile.

He lets out a scoff, pretending not to be affected. "Me? Jealous? Please." He rolls his eyes, but there's a flicker of something in his gaze that gives him away.

He turns to face you fully, his arm resting on the jeep behind you, trapping you in. "I just don’t get why you're settling for Bob." He says, lowering his voice. "What's so special about him, hm?"

“I’m not *settling* for Bob,” you hop up on the car, sitting on the hood with your legs crossed. “He’s a gentleman, very sweet, and damn cute.”

Hangman's eyes flicker over your body for a moment, watching as you hop onto the hood and cross your legs.

He grumbles under his breath, slightly annoyed that you didn’t seem to get his point.

"Yeah, Yeah, he’s sweet and cute, whatever. I can be sweet and cute too, you know. Sometimes." He counters, trying to sound casual and nonchalant.

“So you are jealous.” you giggle, leaning back on your palms, uncrossing your legs. “And what makes you so special?”

He glares at you, his jealousy bubbling to the surface. "I'm Hangman, sweetheart. I’m the best, hottest, and most talented pilot there is." He says confidently, his ego on full display.

He steps even closer to you, his body slotting between your legs now. He gazes down at you, his hand resting near your hip. "I could show you a good time, unlike Bob."

You flick your tongue out, licking your bottom lip. “A good time hm?” you wrap your legs around his hips pulling him against you.

A small gasp leaves Hangman's lips as you pull him closer, his body automatically responding to your touch. He places his hands on your hips, his grip firm but not rough. He looks at you through hooded eyes, his gaze dark and full of desire.

"You have no idea." He practically growls, his body pressed against yours.

“Sounds inviting,” you murmur, with a small smirk. “But I don’t make a habit of sleeping with coworkers… especially when I have a boyfriend.” your tone is teasing.

Hangman's eyes narrow as you remind him of your supposed relationship with Bob. He leans closer, his nose nearly touching yours.

"Please," he retorts, his breath lightly tickling your skin. "We both know you're not actually dating him. I saw the way he looked at Phoenix earlier. He's got it bad for her, not you."

“While that may be true,” you let go of his waist, pushing his chest with your hand. “My point still stands. I don’t sleep with my coworkers.”

Hangman stumbles back a step, a mix of disappointment and frustration on his face. "Oh come on," he runs a hand through his hair, "We're both adults here. Don't tell me you don't feel the chemistry between us."

He steps closer to you again, his hand reaching out to gently grip your chin, tilting your head up towards him. "One night, no strings attached. It can be our little secret."

“A one night stand..” you bite down on your bottom lip, “Are you sure you’ll be able to walk away after one night?”

He chuckles, his hand moving from your chin to cup your cheek. "Sweetheart, one night with me and you'll be the one struggling to walk." He says with a cocky smirk, his tone confident and full of male arrogance.

He leans in closer, his lips hovering just above yours. "I guarantee you'll be begging for more."

“I guarantee you’ll be the one doing the begging.” your hand goes to the back of his head, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. Hangman's smug expression quickly vanishes as you pull him in, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss filled with fire and desire.

He lets out a low growl, his hands grabbing your hips and pressing you even tighter against him. He devours the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a possessive fervor. As he finally breaks the kiss, his breathing heavy, he looks at you with feral eyes. "Don't underestimate me, sweetheart. I never beg."

“Get in the car,” you brush your hand down his chest, fingers ghosting over his erection. “Let’s go somewhere a little more comfortable.” Hangman's breath hitches as your fingers brush against his bulge, the touch sending a shiver through his body. He nods eagerly, a mix of impatience and anticipation on his face.

"Alright, alright. You lead the way." He steps back, letting you get off the hood and move around to the driver's side. He opens the passenger door and gets in, his eyes on you watching your every move.

The drive to the apartment is filled with tension, Hangman's hands occasionally drifting to your thigh or hip, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

As you enter the apartment and make your way towards the bedroom, Hangman's hands remain on your waist, his grip firm and possessive. He's practically glued to your back, the scent of his cologne filling your nose.

"You're driving me crazy, you know that?" He mutters into your ear, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck. You turn around in his grasp, pressing a heated kiss to his lips, your own hands sliding down his body.

He groans into the kiss, his arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you as close as possible. He returns the kiss with equal fervor, his tongue exploring your mouth with a possessive intensity.

His hands roam over your body, sliding down your curves and gripping your hips. His touch is almost bruising, his need for you evident in every move he makes. He walks you backwards towards the bed, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving small kisses and bites in their wake.

The back of your legs hit the edge of the bed, and Hangman guides you to sit down, his hands never leaving your body. He stands between your legs, looking down at you with dark, hungry eyes.

Hangman's hands, strong and insistent, began to pull away the fabric that separated your bodies, his movements quick and sure. Your shirt was the first to go, lifted over your head and tossed aside with the ease of a man used to getting what he wanted.

His eyes roamed over your bare torso, drinking in the sight of your firm breasts, the peaks of your nipples pebbled with desire. He reached for the clasp of your bra, his fingers deftly unhooking it before sliding the straps down your arms, leaving it to fall away and expose you fully to his heated gaze.

With a smirk, he went for the button of your jeans, his eyes never leaving yours. As the zipper lowered, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband and tugged, pulling them down your hips and over your thighs. You helped him, lifting your legs one by one, allowing him to remove your shoes and socks as well, leaving you in only your underwear.

His own clothes followed suit, the sound of fabric rustling and buttons popping filling the room as he stripped away his shirt, revealing the taut muscles of his chest and abs. His jeans were next, the leather belt unbuckling with a snap before the denim hit the floor, leaving him in his boxers.

He stepped closer, his hands sliding up your bare legs to the band of your underwear. With a single, fluid motion, he hooked his fingers in the fabric and dragged it down, leaving you completely bare before him.

You felt a rush of cool air against your skin as he stepped back to appreciate the view, his eyes dark with lust as they traveled over your body. You sat on the edge of the bed, watching him as he removed his own boxers, his erection springing free and bobbing slightly with his every movement.

Your heart raced in your chest, the anticipation of what was to come making your stomach flip-flop. His hand reached for yours, pulling you to stand and bringing your bodies flush together. His erection pressed against your stomach, hot and demanding.

You felt his breath on your neck as he kissed along your collarbone, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Your hand found its way to the back of his neck, holding him closer as he continued to kiss and nibble his way down your body.

The feel of his bare chest against yours was electric, sending waves of heat through you. His hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You felt his thumbs brush over your hardened nipples, and a moan escaped your lips as he rolled them gently, teasing and pinching just enough to make you arch into his touch.

He was methodical in his exploration, as if he were memorizing every inch of your body. With a sudden surge of confidence, you pushed him against the mattress, surprising him with your strength.

He chuckled, his eyes flashing with excitement as you slid on top of him, straddling his hips. You lined his hardness up with your wet heat, feeling the tip of him nudge against your entrance. The sensation made you gasp, your eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment.

Opening them again, you stared down at him, a challenge in your gaze. Without a word, you began to ride him, your hips moving in a rhythm that was both agonizingly slow and incredibly sensual.

He watched you, his eyes hooded with desire as he felt your wetness envelop him. His hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he held on for dear life, letting you set the pace.

His breath was ragged in your ear, his voice a low murmur of encouragement as you rocked against him. You felt him swell inside you, his length filling you completely, and you knew he was close to the edge.

You leaned forward, pressing your chest to his, your breasts smashing against his skin. The friction was maddening, and you couldn’t help but increase your pace, chasing your own release.

His hands slid up your back, gripping your shoulders as he pulled you down for a deep, claiming kiss. His tongue danced with yours as his hips began to meet your movements, the two of you moving in perfect sync.

The bed creaked beneath you, the only sound in the room aside from the ragged breaths and soft moans that filled the space. The tension grew, a coil tightening in your stomach, signaling the approaching climax.

You felt his muscles tense underneath you, his grip on your hips tightening, and you knew he was close. You leaned back, letting him take over, his hands guiding your hips as he drove into you with a ferocity that had you seeing stars.

Each thrust was a declaration of dominance, a claim of what was his. You threw your head back, crying out his name as the orgasm washed over you, your body convulsing with pleasure.

The world around you faded away, leaving only the feeling of his skin against yours, the sound of your mingled breaths, and the exquisite sensation of his cock buried deep inside you. As the waves of pleasure subsided, you collapsed against him, your chest heaving with exertion.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you tight as your bodies remained connected, both of you lost in the aftermath of the passionate encounter. For a moment, there was only silence, only the sound of your hearts beating in sync.

Then, with a soft chuckle, Hangman leaned his forehead against yours. "You're something else, Y/N." He whispered, his voice filled with a mix of awe and satisfaction.

You couldn’t help but smile, your breath still coming in short gasps. "I aim to please," you murmured, before pressing a gentle kiss to his neck.

He rolled you over onto your back, his body still inside of yours, and began to move again, slower this time, more deliberate. He wanted to savor this moment, to make it last as long as possible. He kissed along your collarbone, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as he thrust into you, his eyes never leaving yours.

The kisses grew more intense, his teeth sinking into your skin, leaving small marks. You didn’t protest, instead, you arched into the pain, your nails digging into his back as he claimed you once again.

This time, the passion was more intense, more raw, as if the first time was just the beginning of something much more powerful.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, casting shadows across the wall as your bodies moved together. The bed rocked beneath you, the headboard thumping rhythmically against the wall, a silent testament to the passion that had overtaken you both.

As the second climax approached, you felt yourself tighten around him, your body begging for release. He groaned, his movements growing erratic, his need for you consuming him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he reached his peak, filling you with his warmth.

Finally, with one last, powerful thrust, he stilled, his body collapsing next to yours. You both lay there, panting and trembling, the sweat from your bodies mingling on the cool sheets. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go.

__________

The next few weeks are filled with tension between you and Jake. Where you are seemingly unaffected by the night you shared, Jake can't shake the memory of the night he shared with you.

He replays every moment in his head, relishing every touch, every kiss, every sound you made. He tries to ignore the way his heart skips a beat whenever he sees you, the way his eyes keep finding you in a room, and the way his body responds to your mere presence.

You’re back at the bar, hanging out with the other pilots while playing pool. Jake can't tear his eyes away from you as you lean over the pool table, lining up your shot. He watches intently as your body moves, the way your hips sway, and the way the pool cue rests in your grasp.

He takes a sip of his drink, attempting to appear nonchalant, but his eyes never leave you, drinking in your every movement.

You notice his lingering gaze and shoot him a questioning look, feeling Bob’s hand snake around your waist as he pulls you into a hug. You lean into his embrace as he whispers a soft goodnight before he leaves.

Jake's jaw clenches at the sight of Bob's arm around you, a flash of anger and jealousy passing through his eyes. It takes all his self-control not to stride over and pull you away from the hug.

He watches as Bob leans in, whispers something in your ear, and then leaves. Jake's hands ball into fist, his knuckles turning white as he forces himself to stay seated. You walk over to Hangman, arms crossed.

“Jake, we need to talk.” your tone is firm. You’ve been noticing his lingering stares, the way he seeks out your touch and attention. It’s been a frustrating couple weeks.

Hangman looks up at you as you approach, his expression guarded. He knows exactly what you're talking about. The tension between the two of you since that night has been unbearable, and he knows he can't keep up the act much longer.

He tries to feign nonchalance as he responds, a cocky smirk on his face. "What's there to talk about? We had our fun, right?"

“Come on, outside.” you practically demand, glaring at him before leaving the bar. Hangman's cocky smile falters a little under your demanding tone, but he quickly recovers, grabbing his jacket and following after you.

Once outside, he turns to face you, hands stuffed in his pockets. "Alright, we're out here. What do you want to talk about?" His voice is casual, but there's a hint of wariness in his eyes. He knows this conversation is not going to go the way he wants it to.

“What’s your deal?” the two of you are off in a dark corner, hidden behind the bar. “You’re the one who said *just* one night, yet you can't seem to stay away.”

Hangman's jaw clenches, his carefree demeanor slipping for a moment. He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.

"I don't know, alright?" He snaps, his voice carrying a hint of defensiveness. "I didn't think it would be so damn hard to just walk away from you."

He starts pacing back and forth in the small corner, his body tense, like a caged animal ready to pounce.

You scoff, “You’re not the commitment type, so what exactly is this all about?” your gaze is hardened as you lean against the wall.

Hangman stops pacing, his back to you as he takes a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts.

"It's not about commitment, alright?" He says, turning back around to face you, his eyes meeting yours. "It's about you. I can't get you out of my goddamn head." His voice is hoarse, and there's a hint of vulnerability in his eyes that you've never seen before.

You look at him, eyebrows furrowed, expression full of confusion. Hangman steps closer to you, eyes searching your face.

"Don't look at me like that," he mutters, his voice gruff. "I...I don't know what I'm doing. I don't do this. I don't get attached, I don't get possessive. But I can't stop thinking about you, I can't stop wanting *you*..."

He reaches for you, taking a strand of your hair between his fingers, his touch gentle. "Please..." His voice is barely above a whisper, a plea. "Please don't make me stop." your gaze softens as he moves closer, desperate for you.

Hangman's plea hangs in the air, his voice revealing more vulnerability than he's ever shown before. He's practically shaking from the effort of resisting his growing desire for you.

He leans in, mere inches from your face, his breath hot on your skin. His eyes lock with yours, a mix of need and desperation swirling in their depths.

"I *need* you, Y/N," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "I've never *needed* anyone like this before. You're driving me damn crazy."

“And here I thought you weren't the begging type.” You hum, hands going to his muscular waist. Hangman's breath hitches at your touch, his body responding immediately to your proximity. His hands find your hips, pulling you closer to him.

"I'm not. Usually." He answers, his voice a low rumble. "But you're different. You've got me on my damn knees here, and I don't even care." His body presses against yours, his grip on your hips tightening as if he’s afraid you'll pull away.

“On your knees? Now that's something I’d like to see.” you tease, enjoying the feel of his body against yours.

Hangman's eyes widen for a moment as he registers your words, then his smirk returns, a challenge in his gaze.

“Is that right?” He drops to his knees, his hands gripping your thighs. He runs his fingers up and down your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

“I’d do just about anything for you, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips hovering just above your hip. You gasp, legs spreading for him.

“Yeah?” you guide his hand under your skirt, back pressing against the wall. Hangman's eyes darken as his hand moves underneath your skirt, his touch sending shivers up your spine. His breathing is ragged, his gaze hungry as he looks up at you.

"Yeah," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "Anything, sweetheart. Just tell me what you want." His hand moves higher, his fingers tracing the hem of your underwear. His tongue slips out, running along his lower lip as he watches your reaction.

“Jake,” you whine his name, “I need you,” your fingers move to his hair, pulling him close. Hangman lets out a low moan as you pull on his hair, your words making his chest tighten with desire.

"Yeah, that's it. Say my name," he practically growls, his nose brushing against your inner thigh as he presses closer to you.

"I'm goin' crazy here, darling. Tell me what you want." His hands grip your thighs, his mouth trailing soft kisses along your skin, moving higher and higher until he reaches the edge of your underwear.

“I want you..” you gasp. Hangman's lips move against you, his breath hot against your clothed skin. He pulls you closer, his grip tight on your ass, as if he can't get close enough to you.

"Do you taste as sweet as you look, sweetheart?" He murmurs, his teeth nibbling at the fabric separated you, you gasp in response desperate for more. "I'm dyin' to find out." The bulge in his jeans is now apparent, his desire for you straining against the fabric.

Hangman looks up at you through his lashes, his eyes filled with a combination of need and heat. He pulls gently on the fabric of your underwear, his voice rough as he speaks.

"Can I take these off, sweetheart?" His hand moves up your thigh, his touch gentle. "I need to taste you, every inch of you."

Jake's gaze is intense, his eyes locked on yours as he slides your underwear down, revealing your glistening core. You nod the cool night air that kisses your exposed skin, causing goosebumps to rise along your legs.

He kisses your thighs, working his way closer to your center, his breath hot and his mouth watering. As he licks you, you bite down on your bottom lip to keep from screaming out in pleasure.

His tongue moves in a slow, deliberate circle around your clit, teasing and taunting you until you can't help but whimper. He smirks, knowing he has you on the edge, and continues his sweet torture, his hands gripping your hips to keep you in place.

You lean back against the wall, supporting yourself as his mouth works magic on your body. Your legs tremble, and your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer as you feel the orgasm building deep within you.

His tongue slides into you, stroking you deep and slow, and you can't hold back anymore. You moan out his name, your body convulsing as the climax crashes over you like a tidal wave.

Hangman doesn't stop, even as your legs give out and you slide down the wall. He holds you up with one hand, his mouth still working tirelessly. You're lost in the sensation, your mind a whirlwind of pleasure as he devours you.

Finally, you manage to push him away, gasping for air. "Jake, enough," you murmur, your voice shaky. He chuckles, standing up and pulling you into a standing position.

"I'm not done with you yet," he says, his voice low and full of promise. He kisses you deeply, his tongue tasting the sweetness of your orgasm on his lips. You melt into the kiss, your body craving more of him.

Hangman's hands move to the button of his jeans, fumbling slightly with the zipper. His desperation is palpable, his breathing heavy as he works to free his erection. He pulls out his cock, thick and hard, the moonlight casting shadows over it.

You moan into his mouth as he lifts you off the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist. He presses you against the wall, your hands holding onto his shoulders for balance. His tip teases your entrance, coated in your juices from earlier.

With a gentle nudge, he slides into you, filling you up. Your walls clench around him, trying to keep him inside. He groans into your mouth, his hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm that has your toes curling in your boots.

You're both lost in the moment, the cool night air surrounding you as he fucks you in the alleyway. His movements are deliberate, each thrust a declaration of his need for you.

Your hands move from his shoulders to his face, your fingers tracing the contours of his jaw, feeling the stubble that's grown in since the morning. You break the kiss, panting for air as you stare into his eyes.

"I need you," you whisper, your voice filled with passion. Hangman's eyes flare with desire, his hips moving faster, his strokes deeper.

The bricks of the alleyway press into your back, but you don't care. All that matters is the feeling of him inside you, the way your bodies move together in a dance as old as time.

You can feel the tension building in his body, his muscles tensing as he fights for control. But you want more, need more. You rock your hips against him, urging him to go harder.

He obliges, his thrusts becoming more forceful, his hands gripping your ass tightly. You throw your head back, your moans echoing through the deserted alley as you reach for your own release.

Your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks, your body spasming around his cock. Hangman groans, his own climax following quickly behind, filling you with his warmth.

He holds you there, his body shaking with the aftershocks of pleasure. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of the moment etched into every line of his face.

Slowly, he lowers you to the ground, his cock slipping out of you with a wet sound. You lean against the wall, trying to catch your breath.

He tucks himself back into his pants, his gaze never leaving yours. "I can't get enough of you," he says, his voice gruff.

You laugh, the sound a little shaky from the intensity of the encounter. "Is that so?"

Hangman's eyes never leave your face, his breathing coming in ragged gasps. His hands grip your hips, his touch both possessive and gentle at the same time. He leans in, his lips hovering just above yours.

"Damn right it is," he murmurs, his voice low. "I'm addicted to you, sweetheart. Can't get enough." he kisses your shoulder, pulling your waist as he presses you to him.

[mechaknight-98]

Brave (NSFW) FT Jihyo

Part I

Author’s note: …I’m so whipped for this woman, but hey it’s not so bad

In the vast expanse of the galaxy, corruption and exploitation ran rampant, fueled by the four major intergalactic oligopolies. As a result, space piracy surged across every sector, becoming both a refuge and a rebellion against these oppressive powers.

Among the numerous pirate crews, some stood out for their strength and notoriety. The Marvelous Pirates were considered the premier crew to join, while the legendary Whitebeard and Gold Roger pirates were revered as royalty for their long and storied histories. Yet, there was one name that struck fear into the hearts of even the most powerful oligarchs: "Diabolos the Dreaded."

Little was known about Diabolos, except that he had brought three formidable privateers of the oligarchs to their knees. Then, one day, he vanished without a trace, leaving behind a legacy shrouded in mystery.

On a distant, uncharted planet, Jihyo woke up to the sound of her alarm, groaning as the morning sun streamed through her window. Another morning, another day in her idyllic paradise. She reached over to wake her sleeping boyfriend, only to find his side of the bed empty. He was already up and out, leaving her to start the day on her own.

As she searched for him, she felt around and noticed a note on the nightstand by his side of the bed.

"Work needed me there earlier so I can't ride in with you today, but I already made lunch and breakfast for you, Yo-Yo (picture a yo-yo drawing instead of the word yo-yo made with Jihyo’s favorite colors). -Dio" the note read.

Jihyo smiled at her boyfriend's thoughtfulness and kindness. She thought about how lucky she was to have found him two years ago while he was going to the restroom. As she got up, showered, and prepared for the day, she remembered that today marked their second anniversary and that she needed to find a gift for him. Unable to hide his enthusiasm and love for her, he had already taken her to a lovely dinner at one of the nicest restaurants in Seoul and given her a beautiful cobalt and silver dress that she adored. But she couldn't quite think of what to get him.

Despite being a sweet, big, lovable guy, Dio remained somewhat of a mystery to her. He loved the sea and night sky and enjoyed oceanic/astrophotography and graphic design, which he did for work at the nearby college's ocean and astronomy-related studies. Other than that, he was very reserved and guarded, and she knew little about his family or friends. she didn't have to worry about it too much as she had all day to think about it. As she moved through their homey apartment, she noticed all of the little memories that they had made over the years; the tickets and movie poster from their first date framed, the snow globe from their trip to NYC, the photo from her tour. all these memories made her smile, as she moved throughout their little abode. She smiled as she walked out ready to start the day.

While Jihyo was getting ready Diabolos was already neck-deep in his shift. The University had him taking pictures of a rare whale that had been sighted off the coast for them. After finishing up with the crew they smiled.

“Okay, that should be enough photos for now.” The leader and head of the oceanic studies department says. Dio nods as both get out of the water. The air is cold but refreshing.

“Hey, Dio. How did your date with your girlfriend go last night? She asked

Dio smiled, “Oh fantastic. She was so happy with how things turned out and you were right she loved the dress,”

The head of Oceanics nodded “Good. Oh hey, before I forget there was the lady she was looking for you. Her name was something with a V or B like Vol or Boljune or something.”

Diabolos tried to hide his anger.

“Oh really? Good to know.” He said through gritted teeth the calming waves of the ocean doing little to brighten his now dour mood. The head of Oceanics noticed this and responded,

“Is everything alright?”

Diabolos nodded and said, “Yeah just an ex.”

The head of Oceanics needed no explanation further. They sailed back to shore and docked the boat before uploading the pictures. While in the office the professor dismissed him saying, “Well that was all I needed help with. You’re free to go,” Diabolos nodding began to leave before wishing her well and going to see Jihyo.

On his way, Diabolos reminisced about better days with Voljune before everything went wrong.

The dimly lit cabin of the spacecraft was filled with the gentle hum of the engines as Diabolos sat across from Voljune. They were in a secluded corner of the vessel, far from the busy control center. Voljune, with her striking features and curious eyes, studied him intently. She noticed he was watching a spinning globe of Earth his home planet in his hand.

“You’ve always had a fondness for Earth,” Voljune remarked, her voice a mix of curiosity and nostalgia. “What do you miss most about it?”

Diabolos leaned back, a wistful smile crossing his lips. “A lot of things, really. But the music stands out. All of the music out here sounds in space it’s so samey and ostentatious. But then There’s something just something about earth music that always brings me back.”

Voljune’s interest was piqued. “Music? What kind?”

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, well-worn device. After a few taps, he turned the screen toward her, displaying a vibrant image of Jihyo from Twice, her radiant smile captivating even in a still photo. “This is Jihyo. She’s part of a group called Twice. Their music is… it’s special. It lifts your spirit, fills you with energy.”

Voljune leaned in, her eyes studying the image with genuine admiration. “She’s beautiful. You’ve got excellent taste, as always.”

Diabolos chuckled a hint of pride in his voice. “Thanks. It’s not just her looks, though. It’s her passion for music, the joy she brings. It reminds me of the best things about Earth.”

Voljune returned the device, a thoughtful expression on her face. “She must be quite extraordinary for you to speak of her like that.”

“She is,” Diabolos replied, a softness in his tone. “Being around her feels like being connected to Earth’s best parts. The joy, the culture, the life.”

Voljune looks at the picture more intently memorizing Jihyo’s features and characteristics “You know seeing her up close makes me realize you have…what’s the phrase you taught me… oh right a type, because you definitely have one.” Voljune teases.

Diabolos raises his eyebrows as Voljune drapes her arms around his shoulders and stares into his soft brown eyes, “You like strong women. Women who can fight for themselves, but ones who are soft and gentle. You also like fit with a big bust and wide hips, and a rather plump…” Diabolos cut Voljune off before she could finish. Voljune smiled at her favorite human and how he always flustered so easily.

“Regardless I miss home and hope I’ll be able to get back soon,”

Voljune nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Perhaps Earth isn’t as mundane as I imagined. You’ve certainly given me something to think about.”

For a moment, silence filled the cabin, punctuated only by the steady hum of the ship.

“You should come with me to a concert someday,” he suggested, breaking the quiet. “I think you’d enjoy it.”

Voljune laughed softly, a rare warmth in her voice. “I might just take you up on that offer. Who knows? Maybe I’ll become a fan.”

Back to the present day, Jihyo smiled when she heard that Dio was here to see her. She sent him up. When she saw him she ran into his arms and said

“You know I missed you this morning.” Diabolos smiled at Jihyo before bringing her in for a kiss.

“I know and I’m sorry, it’s just that Senwan discovered a new whale species and she wanted me to take pictures of the first in-nature sighting.” Jihyo pouted but it quickly turned into a smile as she said,

“Okay, but tonight and tomorrow you're mine.”

“But don’t we have the double date with Dahyun and Dracul?” Diabolos reminded Jihyo who nodded and cursed herself slightly.

“Right well then after Dinner you’re mine,” Jihyo said. She smiled as Diabolos looked at her with eyes full of affection and concern.

“My my I must say Diabolos you have outdone yourself.” Voljune rings out. In a flash Diabolos swings and takes out his imagined saber. He turns to see Voljune saunter closer her blue skin contrasting the pale beige light. She smiles at Diabolos. As she approaches the nearby plants wilt slightly in her presence. The air seems to grow colder around her.

“Good to see you haven’t lost your edge darling,” Voljune says.

“Dio, who’s this?” Jihyo asks and Diabolos moves to a protective stance that has him in between Jihyo and Voljune and says, “My ex!”

Voljune pouts, “Oh come on Darling. Don’t be like that after all you don’t even know why I’m here. It’s the least you could do after you disappeared.”

Jihyo tenses as she watches Diabolos cover her from this blue lady. She also wondered where he got the sword from, but she still trusted him.

“What do you want?” Jihyo asked which surprised both Voljune and Diabolos

“Oh my, she is a strong one. I guess I was right after all Darling you do have a type,” Voljune said with a smile.

“You heard her what do you want and be quick about it,” Diabolos said

“Well, I just came to warn you that my sibling is coming to earth to take over and find you.”

Jihyo watched Diabolos’ sense of self, his essence, darken with an emotion she’d only seen bits and pieces of whenever he woke up from a nightmare. She couldn’t place it and she didn’t like seeing him in that place. So she stepped in front of him

“Listen here, lady you are not about to come out of nowhere and talk to my man like that, and this sibling of yours better be careful because I am not letting either of you have access to him.” Voljune smiled. She knew her next host would be in case of emergency. She stared at Jihyo before sighing.

“Okay well then I’ll go, but darling you better watch out because my sibling has their eyes set on having you this time and not your mentor.” Jihyo watched nervously as Voljune left. She then turned to Diabolos furious and asked

“What was that all about.”

The darkness she saw earlier abated and Diabolos sighed,

“Do you want the longer version or the short version?”

“Short for now,” Jihyo said.

“Voljune is part of a "parasitic race that takes over people and runs a trafficking ring. She is the twin to another who took my body for a joyride They rule a major portion of the universe, along with 3 other big "oligarchy families."

Jihyo noticed Dio's eye twitch meaning he was hiding something. Jihyo scowled “Dio You’re lying. There’s more.”

Dio sighed unsure how to respond.

Jihyo relented in her stare when she saw his discomfort. She knew if she pushed her way through that she might really upset Diabolos. So she retracted. While this was going on halfway across the galaxy Narset watched a live feed of Earth with dispassionate interest.

Narset sits languidly on a floating chair, surrounded by swirling holographic projections. Her expression is one of utter disinterest as she gazes at the rotating image of Earth.

She idly flicks her fingers, adjusting the holographic displays. "This little blue planet," she muses, her voice dripping with condescension. "They call it Earth. Hardly seems worth the effort, doesn't it? I mean the dominant species are good slaves but so are several other planets."

An attendant reports on Diabolos' activities on Earth. Narset waves her hand dismissively, scoffing, "That Diabolos… just a slightly sapient monkey with delusions of grandeur, but he was a useful monkey. Got me this body after all. I wonder how he survived the severing, but it doesn't matter too much. He couldn't stop me then. He won't now."

Narset leans forward, inspecting a holographic map of Earth with strategic points marked "I won't even need to dirty my hands," she says, a smirk playing on her lips. "Send one of those weak Bio-claimers. They'll handle this primitive world well enough."

She reclines back, turning her gaze away from the Earth display. "Why waste resources on a rock that poses no threat?" she mutters, her voice trailing off as she shifts her focus to more pressing matters in her empire like the regent ball she was to attend soon or any other number of things.

An attendant nods, acknowledging her command. "Yes, my lady. As you wish." The hologram of Earth fades away, replaced by other pressing concerns of the galaxy, leaving Narset disinterested and already moving on to the next item on her agenda. As she walks out she muses to herself.

"I wonder what Voljune sees in you little monkey."

Later that night back on earth the bio-claimer lands, and begins to destroy Seoul. The reason why Seoul was chosen as the target was because Narset figured that the best way to show Diabolos his inferiority was to send the Bio-claimer to his home.

The monstrous bipedal amalgamation rampages through the city. This leads to him interrupting Jihyo, and Diabolos' intimate times when they get the Evactuation notification.

Diabolos and Jihyo were making out and enjoying a late dinner since their plans got disrupted due to the monster. Diabolos gets up and goes to deal with it.

His walk to face the bio-claimer is like a block and a half away. Diabolos summoned his Imagine blade and then Slashed through the Bio-claimer in one strike before going back to Jihyo.

Jihyo paced the length of their small apartment, her eyes darting to the clock every few seconds. The distant sounds of chaos in the city had subsided, but Diabolos hadn’t yet returned. Her mind raced with worry, envisioning every possible scenario. She knew he’d return, but couldn’t shake the fear.

Suddenly, a soft knock echoed from the door, jolting her from her anxious thoughts. She approached cautiously, hesitating before pulling it open. There stood Voljune, her blue skin marred with bruises and cuts, her usual confident demeanor replaced by fatigue.

“Voljune?” Jihyo’s voice wavered with surprise and suspicion. “What are you doing here?”

Voljune staggered slightly, leaning against the doorframe. “I came to warn you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is just the beginning for Diabolos. It will only get harder from here.”

Jihyo’s heart sank, her concern for Diabolos magnified by Voljune’s words. “What do you mean?”

Voljune took a shaky breath. “Narset won’t stop. She’ll keep sending worse until he’s overwhelmed. If you want to help him, you need strength.”

“What are you saying?” Jihyo asked, a mix of fear and determination in her eyes.

“You need to merge with me,” Voljune replied, her gaze steady despite her injuries. “I can give you the power to stand by him.”

Jihyo’s mind spun with the implications. She barely knew Voljune and was wary of her motives, but the desperation to protect Diabolos overpowered her hesitation.

“I… I’ll do it,” Jihyo agreed, her voice firm despite the panic rising within her.

Voljune nodded, a hint of relief in her eyes. “This will hurt, but it’s the only way.”

As Jihyo steeled herself, Voljune stepped closer. In a sudden, fluid motion, Voljune’s form shimmered and dissolved into a blue mist, enveloping Jihyo. The sensation was both cold and electrifying, as if icy tendrils were weaving through her very being.

Jihyo gasped, clutching the doorframe as Voljune’s essence merged with hers. Her vision blurred, and she felt a surge of unfamiliar energy coursing through her veins.

Within her mind, Jihyo heard Voljune’s voice. “You love him too, don’t you?”

“I do,” Jihyo admitted, surprised by how natural the response felt. “I just want to protect him.”

Voljune’s presence pulsed with understanding. “We’re not so different, you and I. We both care for him deeply, even if our methods have been… complicated.”

“You’ve seen him at his worst, haven’t you?” Jihyo asked, feeling the weight of shared memories.

“Yes,” Voljune replied softly. “But I’ve also seen his strength, his kindness. That’s what drew me to him.”

“And you think merging will help?” Jihyo asked, a mix of skepticism and hope in her thoughts.

“Together, we can be stronger. For him.” Voljune’s voice was steady, and Jihyo could feel the sincerity behind her words.

As the merging process continued, Jihyo felt a sense of solidarity with Voljune. Their shared love and determination to protect Diabolos formed a bond that transcended their initial distrust.

When the sensation subsided, Jihyo blinked, feeling a new awareness and strength within her. She steadied herself, her heart still racing from the unexpected transformation.

Just then, the door creaked open further, and Diabolos appeared, his silhouette framed against the dim hallway light. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Jihyo, standing with an intensity he hadn’t seen before.

“Jihyo?” he asked, concern etched on his face. “What happened?”

Jihyo met his gaze, her voice steady as she replied, “I’m ready to help you, Dio. Whatever it takes.”

Diabolos’ mood soured as he saw familiar spots in Jihyo’s eyes. He stiffened, and Voljune knew she’d been caught, but she couldn’t really process that now as the merging process was still very new and Jihyo was her first human. As their memories and minds merged, Voljune got to see domestic Diabolos—how considerate and caring he was—while Jihyo saw Dreadful Diabolos, the warring pirate whose legacy tore through several planets and galaxies.

At first, the memories of Diabolos clashed in her mind, causing Jihyo to yell at Diabolos. “Don’t come near me, you lying monster!” she yelled, and Diabolos had to cool his temper, because the one thing he didn’t want to have happened occurred. Jihyo merged with Voljune, and he was having difficulty processing it, but he remained calm.

“Listen to me, Yo-yo,” Diabolos said, scratching his head, a gesture Jihyo recognized as him trying to find the right words. “He always does that when he’s about to say something important,” Jihyo thought.

But Jihyo and Voljune were still working on the kinks of this little endeavor and were still at odds.

“How dare you lie to us. You are a monster/hero. Why are you so different with her?” Jihyo’s voice was overlaid by Voljune’s. Diabolos’ eyes narrowed, and Voljune noticed the micro twitches in his jaw, the barely restrained anger simmering beneath the surface. “He’s holding back, trying not to lose control,” Voljune observed.

Emotions fought within him, but in a calm, stern voice, he said, “That’s enough.” It was a tone unfamiliar to both Jihyo and Voljune, but to them both, it radiated strength and authority. It served as an anchor point as Jihyo was able to calm down enough for the memories and the extra consciousness in her body to settle, and as they did, more memories of Diabolos flooded through. These memories didn’t show Diabolos as a conquering warlord or a caring worker but the human he was when he was playing a role.

They showed his heart, caring, competitiveness, drive, and determination, and in these moments, both Voljune and Jihyo saw Diabolos in his totality. This let them calm down enough to let the merge finish. As it did, Diabolos’s rage (and other confusing emotions) began to rise.

“Voljune, why would you do this?” Diabolos questioned, as he did he took a long drawn out breath, a sign that he was trying to think through his emotions.

Jihyo and Voljune looked at Diabolos with genuine surprise. The hurt in his voice and his expression were things he couldn’t really mask with anger nor his other emotions swimming inside. They saw them all, and Jihyo responded.

“I wanted to be by your side with this, and I was worried that I’d lose you if I couldn’t fight with you.”

Diabolos sighed, his shoulders slumping, a sign that Voljune recognized as him feeling overwhelmed. “I never wanted to have to fight or have you fight with me,” he said adamantly.

Jihyo scoffed and said, “Why not?” Jihyo and Voljune asked in sync. As more memories merged with each other, they felt their mutual love of Diabolos heighten their emotions.

“Because…” Diabolos stammered, his hand moving to his head again, a gesture Jihyo knew meant he was wrestling with his words.

Jihyo’s and Voljune’s tempers began to rise as all the memories of Diabolos giving her the “princess” treatment. “Because you think I’m dainty, that I can’t—”

Before she could finish that statement, the response she got was startling. “Because I’m evil, and no one should be stuck with me. Because I believe that everyone exists to hate me or make me hate myself, and for that crime they should be eradicated, and the only peace from those violent intrusions in my brain is from when I’m fighting or spending time with you. But now my heart’s all fucked up because I don’t want you to get hurt or strung up in my bullshit,” Diabolos yelled, his body tense, a raw display of vulnerability that both Jihyo and Voljune could feel.

Jihyo felt her heart race a little. Diabolos rarely cursed around her, especially with such force that she felt excitement and desire run through her body, which overwhelmed Voljune. She had never felt so desired, so needed, and that, in combination with the hormones dousing her, melted her mind to where all she could think about was throwing herself at Diabolos. But she pushed down both of their need for Diabolos right now.

As the rawness of Diabolos’ confession hung in the air, Jihyo felt a complex swirl of emotions coursing through her, intensified by Voljune’s presence. Her heart pounded, both from Diabolos’ words and the newfound energy within her.

“That's not what I expected,”* Voljune admitted quietly within Jihyo’s mind. “I thought I knew him, but this vulnerability and anger it’s… It’s something else.”

“I know,” Jihyo replied, her mental voice softening. “It’s why I love him. There’s so much more to him than the warrior he shows the world.”

Diabolos stood before them, his posture tense and defensive, as if bracing for rejection. But as Jihyo looked at him, she felt the internal conflict settle into a determined resolve. She took a step forward, bridging the gap between them, and reached out to touch his arm.

“Dio,” she said gently, her voice steady, infused with both her own emotions and Voljune’s. “We’re not afraid of your past. We’re here because we believe in you, in who you are now. We’re not leaving you.”

Diabolos’ eyes flickered with uncertainty, but Jihyo could see the hope buried beneath his defenses. He scratched his head again, a gesture of hesitation and thought, and she couldn’t help but smile at the familiarity of it. Despite all of these new things she was learning about him he was still the same easily flustered man she’d fallen for.

“We’re stronger together,” Jihyo continued her grip firm on his arm. “You don’t have to face this alone.”

Voljune added her voice to Jihyo’s, the two of them harmonizing in their shared determination. *“Let us stand with you, Diabolos. We can face whatever comes next together.”

Diabolos exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He looked at Jihyo, then at the reflection of Voljune’s presence in her eyes, and nodded, a silent agreement passing between them. He noticed Voljune’s color shifting from cool blues to fiery reds it surprised him as red was Jihyo’s favorite color.

“Okay,” he said, his voice still rough but more composed. “Together.”

Jihyo felt a warmth spread through her, the connection between them deepening with this shared understanding. She leaned into him, feeling his strength and vulnerability, and knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them side by side.

As they stood there, united in purpose, Jihyo and Voljune began to learn how to navigate their shared existence. They could sense each other’s thoughts, their hopes and fears intertwined, and they realized that together, they were a formidable force.

Voljune also realized that Jihyo would be her last host. This was the closest she had ever felt to a host and it frightened and excited her.

Diabolos wrapped his arms around Jihyo, pulling her close. The embrace felt different, with Voljune’s presence subtly altering the dynamic, but it was comforting nonetheless.

“We’ll figure this out,” Jihyo murmured into Diabolos’ hair, and he knew she was right.

“We will,” he thought, ready to face whatever the future held.

The next few days were definitely awkward between them. Voljune and Jihyo loved to tease and flirt shamelessly with Diabolos and this only increased as they would constantly egg each other on.

The afternoon sun streamed through the apartment windows, casting warm light on Jihyo and Diabolos as they lounged in the living room. Voljune's presence was subtle but noticeable to Diabolos, her energy blending seamlessly with Jihyo’s.

Jihyo stretched out on the couch, giving Diabolos a mischievous glance. “You know, Dio, I was just thinking about how much you love those rare steaks. Voljune and I were wondering if maybe you’d like to grill some tonight?” She tilted her head, letting the light catch her eyes, which now occasionally flickered with Voljune's fiery hues.

Diabolos shifted in his chair, trying to maintain his composure. “Uh, yeah, I could go for that. You know I can never say no to a good steak.”

Voljune chimed in, her voice echoing softly in Jihyo’s mind, “See how he tries to stay cool? Let’s push him a bit more.”

Jihyo leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as her cleavage peeks through. “And maybe afterward, we could watch that old space opera you love. Voljune mentioned she’s curious about why you like it so much.”

Diabolos cleared his throat, his cheeks tinged with a hint of red as he tried to look in the right places. “Well, it’s got great action and… uh, the soundtrack is pretty epic.”

Voljune added playfully, “He’s getting flustered. Let’s see what else we can do.”

Jihyo stood up and walked over to him, casually brushing her fingers through his hair. “And I couldn’t help but notice how you always scratch your head when you’re trying to figure out how to impress me. It’s adorable.”

Diabolos laughed nervously, reaching up to scratch his head unconsciously, realizing too late that he’d fallen right into their trap. “You’re both relentless, you know that?”

“That’s the point,” Voljune teased, her presence giving Jihyo an extra edge in their playful banter. “He likes the chase, even if he won’t admit it.”

Jihyo grinned, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind the chair. “We just love seeing you flustered. It’s nice to know we still have that effect on you, even after everything.”

She moved around to sit on his lap, her arms encircling his shoulders. Voljune’s energy added a subtle warmth, a comforting presence that enveloped him.

Diabolos shook his head, trying to maintain his usual cool demeanor but failing spectacularly. “You two are impossible.”

Jihyo pressed a light kiss to his cheek, her lips lingering longer than usual, sending a shiver down his spine. “But you wouldn’t have it any other way, right?”

Diabolos finally relaxed, a genuine smile breaking through his flustered facade. “No, I guess not. It’s… kind of nice having you both here.”

Jihyo rested her head against his, the closeness bringing a soothing calm over them all. Voljune’s presence added a gentle pressure, like a hug from within, reinforcing their bond.

Jihyo ran her fingers through Diabolos’ hair, her touch both teasing and tender. “You’re always so tense. Let us help you unwind.”

Diabolos sighed, leaning into her touch. “You’re too good to me.”

Jihyo chuckled, Voljune’s laughter echoing in her mind. “You deserve it, even if you don’t believe it yet.”

With the afternoon light casting a golden hue over them, Jihyo and Voljune shared a silent moment of triumph. Their connection was stronger than ever, and Diabolos’ flustered delight was proof of their successful teamwork. As they sat together, surrounded by warmth and affection, Diabolos knew he wouldn’t want it any other way.

That night Jihyo learned that living with Voljune inside of her was going to be an… adjustment. Despite their high compatibility, Voljune had never been in a human before so everything was new to her. The major thing was the sensitivity difference. At this point, Jihyo had been off of birth control for a while and was accepting of the fact that at some point Diabolos was going to impregnate her eventually which kept her normal most days and throughout most of her cycle. Voljune however had never experienced human female ovulation and it hit her (and by extension Jihyo) like a truck.

When Jihyo woke up in the middle of the night because of Voljune feeling her horniess for the first time it was unpleasant. To make matters worse Voljune had turned her body’s sensitivity and hormone up to 20. Her reasoning is that it would help her become stronger quicker as they become more symbiotic with each other.

“Fuck Jihyo moaned waking up from a disastrous wet dream that had her squirting all over the bed. When she stopped the sheets were ruined and her mind was mush. Voljune wasn’t much help either as both she and Jihyo were adrift in a storming sea of lust and needed Diabolos to ferry them to safe harbor. They reached out to his side of the bed only to find it empty. Jihyo worried as to where he was went to look around for him, as he was never up this late on an off day. Her fears were partially abated when she saw him standing alone on their shared balcony overlooking the city. She smiled but began to feel the heat rising within her. She needed him inside her in some way shape or form in the next fifteen minutes or she was going to do something drastic. Voljune was no help as she was so overwhelmed by the sensitivity of everything Jihyo felt like the fact that her shirt fabric rubbing against Jihyo’s nipples got her so wet in turn making Voljune even hornier for Diabolos making Jihyo even hornier and more sensitive. By the time Jihyo had located and began approaching Diabolos her panties and shorts were ruined. Jihyo approached Diabolos and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Everything okay Dio?”

“Yeah, Yo-yo just go a lot on my mind.”

“You wanna talk about it?” Jihyo asked.

She felt Dio ease and turn to her. He was taken aback by how flushed her face was and how hard her nipples were.

“Um, Yo-yo are you okay?” Dio asked concerned. Jihyo nodded then said.

“I do need you but it can wait.”

Diabolos made the executive decision to help Jihyo out before she exploded.

“No, I can wait it looks like you’re about to die from horny.” Diabolos joked. Jihyo smiled. Diabolos hadn’t really smiled so genuinely at her since Voljune arrived. Speaking of Voljune had never felt what she was feeling now, but the way Diabolos looked at her and cared for her (Jihyo) made her lose it. So lost in lust all she could say was “fuck me” repeatedly. Jihyo heard this and rolled her eyes before bringing Diabolos back into their love next. She smiled as she got on her knees.

“Can I please suck your cock?” Jihyo asked/begged. Diabolos was a bit concerned as Jihyo must have been hit really hard by her needs because this wasn’t a common occurrence, but he knew if he stopped or intervened here it would be a long day so he let her have her way with a gentle nod. Jihyo smiled as she yanked his shorts down along with his underwear. She marveled at his cock. The thick veiny appendage stood proud for her as it always did. She smiled before kissing it. Diabolos groaned. Jihyo smiled.

“Looks like you need this as much as I do.” She cooed before taking him into her mouth. She started slow. She ran her tongue all over his shaft as she bobbed around his rod. Jihyo’s mind began to blank as she slowly became sloppier and picked up speed. She kept bobbing as a long line of drool began to drip from her pretty lips to her chest. She knew what she was doing to Diabolos. She knew he was almost ready to fucking ruin her just one more piece was needed. She stopped sucking his cock eliciting a groan from him as she took her shirt off and started massaging her spit into her tits this lewd display served its purpose as Diabolos picked her up and laid her flat on the counter

Voljune and Jihyo breathed in deep. As they watched Diabolos’ his eyes were hungry as was his cock. As he lifted them he stuffed Jihyo’s ruined panties into her mouth. Her arousal scent hit her like a brick through a glass wall, as her snug walls let in their favorite occupant. Voljune and Jihyo moan in unison as he bottoms out in them. He thrusts slowly but Jihyo nor Voljune want it slow and easy they want him to fuck them.

“More” Jihyo moans as she feels Diabolos thrusting. Her insides begged him to be rougher. Her moans reach Diabolos' ears’ as he speeds up inside her. Jihyo moans euphoric as Diabolos picks her little body up to get better leverage as he ravages her. Jihyo and Voljune moan as he takes them.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Jihyo and Voljune moan in Jihyo’s mind together. Diabolos watches as Jihyo’s tits bounce hypnotically while he fucks Jihyo her walls are so snug that he can feel his orgasm build quicker than normal but he can’t stop. He keeps thrusting inside her Jihyo notices he’s close and takes out the panties unable to control herself she says to Diabolos, “In me.” Diabolos is brought out of his lustful haze for a moment only for Jihyo to repeat her words. Dio asks if she’s safe today

“I’m not safe babe.” She says

“Voljune has made me so wet and horny for you. Don’t you think I need no I deserve a creampie. I mean we’ve been together two years, don’t you think it’s time we start a family. So do it! Cum in me. Make me a mommy make me yours,” Diabolos loses control as he cums inside Jihyo hearing that. Her womb fills with his seed and she looks at him and smiles but she still sees his rampant lust which causes Voljune to make her even wetter for him. Jihyo moans as he continues thrusting inside of her. He sees now mixing with her viscous slick and pooling under them in a turgid and lewd sludge. Their bodies need more stimulation so Diablos continues thrusting inside of her. Jihyo moans as the sensation drives her closer to another orgasm.

“Cum please cum.” Jihyo moans as she reaches another peak. Voljune is numb inside from all the pleasure and intimacy of being with Diabolos and feeling him rearrange her guts was a euphoria she didn't know she needed. The pleasure tears through both of them as they are subjected to Voljune’s first orgasm in this body Jihyo and Voljune moan as they squelch and squirt all over Diabolos’ cock. All of this cumming on Diabolos causes him to fill Jihyo again as she moans and takes another load inside her. Diabolos overwhelmed falls back on the chair and stares at her beautiful tanned body now covered in a sexy layer of sweat. He grows hard again but is too tired to take action for now.

The rest of the day follows suit. Diabolos would recover Jihyo or Voljune would take their turn breeding him then he'd be worn out, they take a break until 2 am the next day. Where Jihyo wakes up so she can set her alarm to go to Dance practice later that night. In that quiet moment, she notices Diabolos’ scars and wonders how he got them.

The next day

Jihyo and Voljune arrive at the Twice practice studio is brightly lit, with mirrors lining the walls and a polished wooden floor ready for rehearsal. The energy is high as the group prepares for their latest routine.

Jihyo enters the studio, her gym bag slung over her shoulder. She’s wearing comfortable workout clothes, and her hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail. The other members of Twice are already stretching and chatting, filling the room with a warm and lively atmosphere.

"I see your companions are already here," Voljune observes, her voice echoing in Jihyo’s mind. "They seem quite enthusiastic."

"They always are," Jihyo replies with a smile. "We’re all really excited about this new routine."

“Jihyo!” Nayeon calls out with a smile, waving her over. “We were just talking about how you always bring the best snacks. Did you bring any today?”

Jihyo laughs and sets her bag down. “Of course! I’ve got some healthy energy bars and a few treats for later.”

"Your foresight is commendable," Voljune comments. "It seems they depend on you for sustenance as well as leadership."

"Snacks are the secret to a happy practice," Jihyo jokes internally, watching her friends dive into the bag.

As they finish their snacks, Jihyo leads the group in their warm-up routine. She moves with confidence, guiding her friends through stretches and exercises. The studio echoes with the sound of their synchronized movements and shared laughter.

"You lead with such grace," Voljune notes. "It's no wonder they follow you so willingly."

"We’re a team," Jihyo responds. "Everyone brings something special."

“Remember to focus on your breathing,” Jihyo reminds them, her voice encouraging. “We’ve got a long practice ahead, and we need all the energy we can get.”

With the warm-up complete, the music starts, and the group begins rehearsing their choreography. Jihyo is at the front, her movements precise and fluid. She radiates determination and joy, inspiring the others to give their best.

"Such artistry," Voljune remarks. "I see why you’re so passionate about this."

"Dancing is freeing," Jihyo thinks, her heart full. "It’s like nothing else matters."

“Great job, everyone!” she calls out after a particularly challenging section. “Let’s run it again from the top and see if we can make it even smoother.”

The members nod, determined to perfect the routine. Jihyo watches them with pride, offering tips and corrections where needed.

After a couple of hours, they take a break, collapsing onto the floor with sighs of relief and laughter. The room is filled with chatter as they sip water and catch their breath.

Sana nudges Jihyo and asks, “So, what’s new with you and Diabolos? Are you two planning anything fun?”

Jihyo smiles, her cheeks turning a light pink. “We’re having a rooftop dinner soon. It’s supposed to be a surprise, but I’m really excited.”

"I sense great affection when you speak of him," Voljune teases gently. "Your bond is strong."

"He’s… special," Jihyo admits, her heart fluttering at the thought.

The group erupts into playful teasing and giggles, their camaraderie evident.

As the practice winds down, Jihyo gathers the group for a final run-through. The room buzzes with focused energy, and their performance is seamless, a testament to their hard work and unity.

“Fantastic work today, everyone,” Jihyo says, clapping her hands. “We’re ready for the show, and I know we’ll be amazing.”

"You inspire them," Voljune says, a hint of admiration in her tone. "This is a rare and beautiful thing."

"We’re all in this together," Jihyo replies, feeling grateful for her team and the connection she shares with Voljune.

With that, they pack up their things, exchanging hugs and words of encouragement. Jihyo feels a sense of accomplishment and excitement for what’s to come, both with her group and her upcoming date with Diabolos.

Jihyo is walking home from the studio, the sun beginning to set, and painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. The streets are quieter now, the hustle and bustle of the day giving way to the calm of the evening.

As she walks, Jihyo feels the comforting presence of Voljune within her. The dance practice has left her energized but reflective, and she decides it's a good time to address some important matters with her new companion.

"Voljune, are you there?" Jihyo thinks, opening the mental channel between them.

"Always," Voljune replies, her voice gentle and attentive. "How are you feeling after practice?"

"Good, really good," Jihyo answers, smiling to herself. "But I've been thinking about how we’re going to make this merger work. I think it’s important to establish some boundaries and parameters, so we both feel comfortable."

Voljune’s presence shifts slightly, an indication of her attentiveness. "I agree. It’s a unique situation for both of us and understanding each other is key."

"First," Jihyo begins, "I’d like to have some privacy when it comes to my thoughts and feelings about certain things. There are moments that are just… personal, you know?"

"Of course," Voljune responds, understanding. "I’ll do my best to respect your privacy. I don’t wish to intrude more than necessary."

"Thank you," Jihyo replies, feeling a sense of relief. "And if there are times when you want to be more involved or communicate more directly, just let me know. I want to make sure you feel heard and included."

"I appreciate that," Voljune says warmly. "I’ll be mindful of when I interject. Your life is yours to live, and I’m here to support you."

As she walks, Jihyo considers the best way to share control over their shared existence. "When it comes to making decisions, especially about Diabolos and the others, let’s make sure we discuss things first. I trust your judgment, but I also need to stay true to myself."

"That’s fair," Voljune agrees. "And if there’s anything that concerns me, I’ll bring it to your attention. Our partnership should be built on mutual respect and understanding."

Jihyo nods, satisfied with their progress. "Also, if there are moments when I’m too overwhelmed or emotional, I’d appreciate it if you could help ground me. I think your perspective could really help."

Voljune’s presence feels reassuring. "I can do that. And if you find me becoming too intense or overbearing, please let me know. I’m still learning about human emotions and dynamics."

"We’ll figure it out together," Jihyo assures her, feeling a sense of partnership and camaraderie.

As they approach Jihyo’s apartment building, the conversation leaves her feeling hopeful about their future together. The city lights flicker on, casting a warm glow over the streets.

"I’m glad we talked," Jihyo thinks, a sense of gratitude in her heart.

"Me too," Voljune replies. "Thank you for trusting me, Jihyo. I’ll do my best to honor that trust."

As they approach Diabolos and Jihyo’s apartment building, the conversation leaves her feeling hopeful about their future together. The city lights flicker on, casting a warm glow over the streets.

"I’m glad we talked," Jihyo thinks, a sense of gratitude in her heart.

"Me too," Voljune replies. "Thank you for trusting me, Jihyo. I’ll do my best to honor that trust."

As Jihyo climbs the stairs to her apartment, she hesitates for a moment, considering how to bring up one last topic that’s been on her mind.

"Voljune, can we talk about something else?" she asks, a hint of embarrassment coloring her mental voice.

"Of course," Voljune responds, her curiosity piqued. "What’s on your mind?"

Jihyo takes a breath, feeling slightly awkward. "It's just… my body has been feeling super sensitive lately. It's like everything is dialed up to eleven, and it's kind of overwhelming."

Voljune’s presence shifts to one of understanding. "Ah, I see. My enhancements might be amplifying your sensory perceptions. I can adjust that for you."

"That would be great," Jihyo admits, relief evident in her tone. "I love being able to feel more connected, but it’s been a bit intense, especially during practice."

"I’ll make the changes gradually," Voljune assures her. "Let me know if you feel more comfortable."

As they continue their ascent, Jihyo notices a gradual easing of the heightened sensations, her body relaxing into a more natural state.

"Thank you," she thinks, a wave of relief washing over her. "This feels much better."

"I’m glad," Voljune responds warmly. "We’ll find the right balance together."

With their new understanding and adjustments in place, Jihyo heads inside, feeling more connected to Voljune and ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead.

As Jihyo and Voljune step into the apartment, the cozy space greets them with a familiar sense of comfort. Jihyo heads straight for the kitchen, setting down her bag and rolling up her sleeves.

"What should we make tonight?" Jihyo asks, surveying the ingredients in the fridge.

"How about something simple, like stir-fry?" Voljune suggests, her presence is a calming influence.

"Sounds perfect," Jihyo agrees, pulling out vegetables and beef (one of Diabolos’ favorites). As she begins chopping, a thought crosses her mind.

"Voljune, I've been wondering about Diabolos’s scars," Jihyo begins, her voice tentative. "They seem so… deliberate. Do you know how he got them?"

Voljune hesitates for a moment before responding. *"They’re from a process called 'the Severing.' It’s something my sibling, Narset, would do when moving to a new host. It’s meant to disconnect the host’s essence, and body by having Narset absorb the entire host. she does it because she never wants to face a face she's worn before. It is considered highly taboo in our culture

Jihyo pauses, her hand stilling over the cutting board. "But it didn’t kill Diabolos?"

"No," Voljune replies, a note of confusion in her tone. "That’s what’s strange. The Severing should have ended him, yet he survived. He is changed though. He was angirer after the severing, but he seems to have as you humans put it “mellowed out” I am glad you helped him there "

Jihyo pauses her chopping, “Diabolos angry. He was and is one of the kindest people I know.”

“I see that, but it's still strange his shift in both cases,” Voljune responds

As Jihyo resumes chopping, she ponders this revelation. "Do you have any idea why he might have survived?"

"I’ve thought about it," Voljune admits. "Diabolos has always been unique. His willpower, his drive… they’re extraordinary. It’s possible his essence was too strong for the Severing to fully take hold."

Jihyo considers this, her mind turning over the possibilities. "Maybe it’s more than just his willpower," she muses. "Maybe there’s something about him that we don’t fully understand yet."

"It’s possible," Voljune agrees. "There’s much we don’t know about his past or what truly drives him."

As they cook together, the rhythmic chopping and sizzling filling the kitchen, Jihyo reflects on Diabolos’s resilience. It adds another layer to the man she loves, deepening her appreciation for his strength.

*"Maybe we should just ask him.” Jihyo muses for a bit

Voljune stops their body with a jolt, “I don't think that's a good idea the last time I did that he went on a revenge-fueled rampage against Narset only to disappear for multiple years.” Jihyo laughed as their memories sorted themselves and the timeline began to make sense “While the violence and rage he displayed in Voljune’s memory was still concerning all the positive memories of him overridden her discomfort.

“Hey Voljune so how does this severing work and why is it so bad?”

“Well it's simple it's the process of my species overriding the host’s body to consume them to make my species stronger. Typically this is done as a way for one of my species to free themselves from a particularly nasty host but Narset used it as a show of dominance over her host and our people. I can't imagine the pain Diabols went through as his body was turned into a feeding ground for my sibling. It is the highest violation of our symbiosis accords.”

Jihyo nodded before asking, “Diabolos survived that?”

“Yes but as you have seen it wasn't a completely painless survival.”

“Whatever the reason,"* Jihyo thinks, "I’m grateful he survived. I can’t imagine my life without him."

"And now, you’re both stronger together," Voljune adds, her tone warm.

The door opens as Jihyo and Voljune finish cooking to a very relaxed Diabolos entering. Jihyo smiled seeing him.

“Hey Dio how was your day?” she asked with a happy smile.

Diabolos brightened and said, “Oh it was the best they asked to do photos for the zoo and I got to take pictures of the cutest panda.” Diabolos said as he showed Jihyo Voljune took over for a brief moment and said,

“It's good to see that you found other uses for your recon skills.” Diabolos looked into jihyo's eyes and through her eyes Voljune got to see a glimpse of the “Dio” that came home to Jihyo every day

“Are you jealous Jihyo?” asked internally. Voljune felt A little bit more of her consciousness merge with Jihyo's lessening the boundaries between them. She couldn't describe what she felt besides happy. She smiled at Diabolos but then pouted as she remembered and in a spontaneous instance of them being fully synched and their memories fully merged they asked

“Babe, why did you leave? I missed you. You left me all alone. What happened?”

Diabolos was taken aback as he watched this surreal experience of Jihyo+. Seeing the hurt in her eyes his heart softened towards both girls.

He sighed and said, “I wasn't really in a great place emotionally or in any way really. I had just been severed after Narset ripped Gira out of me and severed me leaving major parts of my psyche/personality and overall sense of self were gone besides anger. Anger that was fueled by hatred of Narset. Enough Hatred to reduce a planet to ash.”

That explanation startled both girls but they let him sit in his silent turmoil as he fought with his past.

They watched as he got up and went to the shower. Curious they approached the door and heard silent sobs in the bathroom.

Jihyo asks Vlojune if he will be okay,

Voljune hesitates “I'm not sure. As long as I've known him he's struggled with escalating things too far, and the isolation it causes. He lives life at maximum everything and it's vibrant it's beautiful but it's intense. He can't turn off that thing that pushes him. That thing that drives him. It's made him do some truly amazing things and some truly awful things. You and I share that trait with him but whatever it is it consumes him and keeps him awake at night. What haunts his nightmares is just how much he likes giving in to that thing inside him. When we talked earlier about his survival I wasn't surprised he survived he very nearly expunged my brother from himself at numerous junctures out of sheer will. What surprised me about it was what he did after.”

Jihyo listened and then asked, “What came after?”

“That is a story for another time,” Voljune said as the two set him a plate.

A few nights later Jihyo takes Diabolos for his surprise birthday date.

The rooftop garden is bathed in the soft glow of evening lights. The table is elegantly set with a variety of Diabolos’s favorite dishes. The city skyline provides a breathtaking backdrop, with twinkling lights mirroring the stars above. Soft jazz plays in the background, adding to the ambiance.

Diabolos arrives early, his nerves evident as he adjusts the table settings and glances at the sky, anticipating Jihyo and Voljune’s arrival. He fidgets with his cufflinks and checks his reflection, trying to look his best.

Jihyo and Voljune arrive, Jihyo is dressed in a flowing, elegant dress that compliments the evening’s mood and her delectable curves. Voljune and her agreed that tonight they were going to spend the whole night setting Diabolos’ heart ablaze. Her eyes shine with excitement as she spots Diabolos. She gives him a warm hug and a quick, affectionate kiss, while Voljune’s presence subtly enhances her confidence. Diabolos’s cheeks flush with a mix of surprise and pleasure.

As they sit down, Jihyo serves Diabolos his favorite dish with a teasing smile. “I hope you’re hungry, Dio. I made sure to get everything just the way you like it,” she says, her voice playful. Diabolos smiles grateful for Jihyo. The last few days had really been weighing on him and whenever that happened violent intrusive thoughts began to pile in his skull.

Voljune chimes in through Jihyo, “And don’t think we forgot about your tendency to hoard the last sweet. You might have to share this time.”

Diabolos laughs, visibly flustered. “I’ll try to be on my best behavior,” he replies, playfully rolling his eyes.

During the meal, Jihyo and Voljune decide to play a game of truth or dare. Jihyo starts, “Okay, Diabolos, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Diabolos replies, bracing himself.

“What’s one thing about yourself you’ve never told anyone?” Jihyo asks, leaning closer, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Diabolos hesitates, then admits, “I used to have a secret hobby of painting landscapes. It was a way to escape everything else.”

Voljune, through Jihyo, whispers in Diabolos’s ear, “Dare him to sing one of his favorite songs.”

Jihyo grins mischievously and says, “Alright, now for a dare. Sing us a verse from your favorite song.”

Diabolos chuckles, his face reddening, but he obliges before belting out the first of “What Was All About” by Sum 41, causing Jihyo and Voljune to laugh and cheer him on.

Jihyo’s smiled “You're quite the singer have you ever thought about being a trainee?” she asked teasingly. Diabolos shook his head exacerbated before saying an emphatic no.

As the night progresses, Jihyo and Voljune use their combined knowledge to touch on personal topics. Jihyo softly says, “I remember you mentioned how hard it was to balance your career and personal life. How do you manage it now?”

Diabolos smiled and said, “It's simple one step at a time, plus I have the best girlfriend in the whole universe, and yes I'm not being hyperbolic.

Voljune adds through Jihyo, “And what about those quiet moments you cherish the most? We want to hear about them.”

Diabolos smiles and holds Jihyo’s hand. She and Voljune jump at the gentle strength behind his grip.

“I will never forget the time you waltzed into that in-n-out with Sana and the rest of the girls and you sat right across from me with this big toothy grin.”

Jihyo laughs as she's genuinely touched by the gesture.

Diabolos looks touched by their interest and shares stories of his struggles and triumphs. He appreciates how they blend their knowledge to create a more profound connection.

During a lull in conversation, Jihyo gently brushes a strand of hair from Diabolos’s face, her fingers lingering. Voljune’s influence makes the touch more intimate, and Diabolos shivers slightly, his breath catching.

Voljune subtly guides Jihyo’s hand to rest on Diabolos’s arm, enjoying the way he responds to the contact. “You look so handsome tonight,” Jihyo murmurs, her voice infused with affection. Diabolos smiles and then says, “You know yo-yo you look absolutely stunning tonight as well.” Jihyo smiles as she gets up to kiss his cheek.

As the music changes to a slow, romantic tune, Jihyo stands and extends her hand to Diabolos. “May I have this dance?” she asks with a playful smile.

Diabolos takes her hand, and they move to the center of the rooftop. Voljune’s presence adds a radiant quality to Jihyo’s graceful movements, making the dance fluid mesmerizing, and glowing literally. Diabolos is drawn into the rhythm, his initial awkwardness melting away as he holds Jihyo close.

After dancing, they find a cozy spot on a plush blanket, lying back to gaze at the stars. Jihyo snuggles against Diabolos, her head resting on his shoulder, while Voljune enjoys the peaceful moment. They share their dreams and fears, their voices blending in a harmonious conversation.

As the evening winds down, Jihyo and Voljune share a tender kiss with Diabolos, their affection evident. Diabolos wraps his arms around them both, feeling the warmth and connection they share.

Jihyo whispers, “We’ll face whatever comes next together.”

Diabolos nods, his heart full of gratitude and love. “Together,” he replies.

They sit quietly for a moment, the stars their only witness, knowing that whatever challenges lie ahead, they will face them together.

[angelpregdreams]

a blessing

content: rapid fpreg, cult-y vibes, labor, birth, birth of an entity's offspring, uhhh not-super-happy ending???

wc: 2500+

When she was a little girl, Dove would be brought to sit in the middle of the town once a month. Her nanny, the person charged with her care and preservation, would painstakingly ensure she was sitting still and kept her eyes averted from the townsfolk. Dove’s veil was always drawn over her face, obscuring her from being viewed fully by anyone. 

That was her life. From birth to her first bleed, Dove would have to sit and be stared at once a month. Her nanny never gave her the reason for the action, nor did she explain why it suddenly stopped when blood came from her body. 

Dove sighed and fiddled with her fingernails now. Realizing that it was far more common for those in her home to avoid answering her questions, than it was for them to give her any answer - let alone one she could believe. It was a point of contention she had been headstrong about, especially lately. Everyone had gotten quieter around her and it had begun to weigh on her mind, making it the only thing to fill her days. 

Her nanny, Wynn, was the only one permitted to talk to her once the sun had set, and being kept locked away in her room most of the day, it all left very little access to any conversation. Dove tried not to dwell on her loneliness, but as the years continued to pass by and less and less people were allowed to even be near her…it was getting harder to ignore.

As she continued to worry at her nails, Wynn came around the hallway - giving the girl a hard look as she did so. “Stop picking, Dove. You know better.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dove replied instinctively, pulling her hands apart so she could tuck them up under her thighs. “Forgive me.” 

Wynn nodded once, the hard look fading as she stared at the young woman. The nanny came up to the chair Dove sat at, holding her hand out. “You’re forgiven, sweet girl. Forgive me for being so strict. It has been…a long week.” She said, squeezing Dove’s fingers as the woman put her hand in her’s, “it will all come to pass.”

“I know,” Dove said, although she wasn’t quite sure she did know anything, “am I due for dinner soon?”

“Not tonight, sweetling. Tonight…” Wynn trailed off, tugging Dove up from her seat, “tonight, you will be a part of a feast.” 

Excitement made Dove’s eyes grow wide, eagerly rising to meet her nanny. A feast meant more people, and less rules. Being a part of a feast was always a highlight for her, as it broke up the monotony of the exceedingly dull every day. 

“Now come on,” Wynn continued, “let’s get you dressed.”

Nearly an hour later, Dove finally joined those in the massive dining hall, taking her seat at the foot of the table, which was customary. She was dressed in pure white, her veil, nearly opaque, and drawn over her face. There was no ability to see her face, but her dress was revealing. A deep V showed off her cleavage, her body displayed through the nearly sheer, white dress she was placed in. Wynn had her clothing picked out for her already, meaning Dove simply had to deal with it.

Those around her chatted happily with one another, all of them dressed in dark blue. Dove tilted her head in slight confusion, knowing the dark color was only used to indicate nights of honor. Now that she considered it, she was unsure of what this feast was intending to celebrate. 

Dove looked for her nanny, but couldn't find her familiar face. Heart beating rapidly in her chest, she began to worry. Has the night finally come? She wasn't warned at all, no one…no one told her. Tears pooled in her eyes but she sat back in her chair, knowing no one would be able to see them. 

For hours, food was passed around, people spoke in jovial tones, and some even came up to her directly. Dove did enjoy the attention, fawning under those that would actually look at her, however she began to notice the heavy absence of Wynn the longer the night went on. 

When her nanny finally reappeared, the dining hall went silent. 

Dove swallowed thickly as Wynn strode towards her, the woman's heels clicking with each step. She flinched when her nanny reached out a hand for her to take, but didn't recoil away. Wynn's hands were soft as always, and silently, Dove appreciated that constant. She led her out of the dining hall, the feast’s guest trailing behind them just enough to let Wynn speak to her quietly. 

“You will be introduced to Our Lord tonight, sweetling.” Wynn whispered, guiding Dove out into the courtyard. “You know what is expected of you, yes?” 

Nodding, Dove responded with words a few seconds later, “yes, nanny. Remove my clothing, except my veil, then I climb onto the altar. After that I lay on my back, close my eyes, and open-” She stumbled over the last few words, feeling her stomach twist awkwardly, “a-and, open my legs.” 

“Good girl,” Wynn praised, patting her hand. She stopped at the edge of the grass, looking at the hedges that made up the Altar Garden before glancing at Dove. “You were raised to do this, my sweet girl. You're a woman now at 25…and being a woman is very hard. But you know your body is built for this…for what it will go through.” 

Her nanny released her hand, looking away and back to the hedges, silently urging her to go forward on her own.

Dove hesitated, feeling the eyes of the rest of the guests on her back as she deliberated stalling as long as she could. One of her feet moved forward on its own and suddenly, Dove was walking past the hedges and into the garden properly. Silently, she came around the corner, stepping into the private garden. Her eyes never left the altar in front of her, but her body trembled slightly in fear.

Remembering her duty, Dove nodded once to herself, resolved to her fate - whatever that may be.

With shaking hands, she plucked her shift over her shoulders and let it slip to the ground. Her body bare, but her veil still in place, Dove released a breath to will away her nerves. It didn’t work, she realized, as she was climbing up to the flat surface of the altar to the Stag Lord. Her muscles were still tense, even as she laid out on her back. There was a moment where her body felt like it was falling as she spread her legs apart, causing her to gasp in shock and try to catch herself. 

Dove blinked quickly, suddenly aware of her body, still laying flat on her back and not falling from the sky. Only now she wasn’t alone - the guests from the feast were at the foot of the altar, knelt in reverence from the view between her spread thighs. She knew she couldn’t move, she was always told not to move on the altar until she was given permission to do so, but the urge to snap her legs shut was strong and one she had to fight. 

Attempting to regulate her breathing at her sudden panic, Dove dug her nails into her palms, trying to keep herself grounded. 

It didn’t help when her belly began to feel warm, a soft coiling of comfortable warmth pulled at her core. Unable to contain her gasp of surprise at the rolling of her stomach, Dove snapped her mouth shut after it happened. Someone had heard it in the crowd and several murmurs broke out amongst the guests. Her cheeks red from embarrassment after her outburst, but happy to have her face be hidden, Dove closed her eyes again and began to pray.

The tugging and coiling in her belly was distracting and she fought the urge to wiggle her hips, unsure about the feeling she was having. Her womanhood tingled and she gasped, tossing her head back onto the stone under her. 

The crowd only seemed to become more exuberant as her noises got louder, Dove not really understanding but doing as she was told, remaining on the altar.

Just as quickly as the warmth came and made her belly flip in excitement and…anticipation, it disappeared. Leaving her in a panting mess, Dove blinked away shocked tears, urging herself not to cry. Either in excitement or nerves, she wasn’t sure, but she prayed not to break down into tears.

The crowd seemed to come back to silence as the minutes passed, and through the small bit she could see through her veil, they returned to kneeling positions. It looked like they were in prayer, some of them weeping through their words. 

Dove’s brows came together in slight confusion, first at the prayers and then by the sudden pressure building in her belly. She grunted and wiggled her fingers slightly in discomfort, the pressure nestling deep in her core and adding weight to her middle. Dove blinked, watching in slight wonder as her middle began to swell outwards, more and more pressure building between her hips.

Making a noise of displeasure, Dove spread her thighs wider apart in an instinct she couldn’t describe. “Wha-what is…?” She was able to get out before another coil wrapped around her belly making her whine in desperation. The weight continued to grow, but instead of answering her worried pleas, the guests continued their prayer. Even as Dove begged for them to explain what made her belly swell outwards so much it put strain on her hips and lower back. She felt a constant stream of tears on her face, moving and shifting uncomfortably under the new weight, but she never got off the altar. In all of her discomfort, Dove never disobeyed. 

“She’s blessed.” One of the guests whispered, the only words she could catch before the swelling continued. This time her belly looked full term and a few weeks, the pressure in her womb was new and unfamiliar. Something felt like it sat directly between her hips and the weight of it forced her legs as wide apart as they would go, her cheeks burning in shame at her display. The crowd didn’t seem to mind however, their eyes downcast even as they murmured amongst themselves. 

Dove wasn’t sure when the pain started, but the weight in her belly shifted and she felt a sudden gush of fluid from her womanhood. She whined in embarrassment, screwing her eyes shut as if to will herself away from this place, away from the eyes on her that felt too heavy to be human. Dove grunted, feeling her newly swollen middle clench in pain. Her focus on the crowd around her began to wane and she turned inward, feeling every shift in her belly from whatever made it swell outward. 

The pain made her insides clench, and she felt something settle deep between her hips. It made her cry out in surprise, the spread of her body around what was coming out making her body flinch. Her womanhood felt like it began to pulse, an ache creeping between her hips. 

“A blessing!” Someone cried out, the only words she caught before another pain made her groan, and jerk her hips downward. 

She grumbled deep in her chest at the words they uttered in awe. The pain that had attacked her so suddenly felt very much not a blessing. Something felt like it was trying to tear her apart, that whatever was in her womb was going to tear her apart. Dove let out a sharp cry, feeling her stomach tense and the stretching feeling, the one with her hips feeling like they were being stretched apart, increased. In a nearly dazed state, Dove went with her body’s instincts, and pushed. 

It hurt.

Everything in Dove’s body hurt and screamed at her to stop this, but she didn’t know how, except to get rid of what was inside of her. Pushing seemed like the most logical thing to do, the only thing she could think to do in her current state. The crowd of onlookers disappeared from her mind then, focusing only on herself, this horrible pain, and whatever was inside of her desperate to come out. 

Pushing again and again with her pain, Dove screamed and arched her back with the last push, feeling her womanhood spread apart. Her folds parted and when a small sliver of the head was visible, the crowd began to murmur in excitement. It broke her concentration, making her flinch and drop her head back onto the altar with a groan. There was no comfort, even as her body struggled to relax between pains. Dove whined and felt her body tense with another crippling pain, forced to push with it against her will. 

Mentally she was fighting this, but her body was going with what was dealt to her. Frankly, it made her furious. Her devoted service was repaid with this? She thought. The Stag Lord was unkind in his justice.

Dove screamed and pushed, her pussy burning as it was pulled tight around the blessing that was coming from her body. Something was tugging on her womanhood as she pushed down, like her folds struggled to part fully around it. 

“Nughhh!” Dove cried, drawing it out to a harsh scream as she pushed again and felt her womanhood give. The blessing hung out of her, making her drop her knees farther apart as she felt the thing between her legs, tears spilling down her cheeks. 

What was hanging out of her moved and Dove whimpered in surprise. The stretch of her womanhood was lessened now but still it felt too heavy in her core, the weight of it too much for her body to handle. 

Another pain made her moan, eyes screwing shut. The urge to push returned after a few moments of her trying to catch her breath, the pain accompanying it. Pushing gave her little relief, the thing in her fighting every single one it seemed. The noises she made got louder and she couldn’t control how her muscles twitched upon the altar. Dove was far from her perfect self, instead, she was exposed, vulnerable, and disheveled. A mix of angry tears joined her pained ones and she cried out, pushing.

She continued to push even as the pain passed, and her body finally released its hold on the blessing inside of her. It slipped from between her legs, upon the altar, in a gush of fluid. When it cried sharply, like a baby would, Dove felt herself freeze. 

Finally, everything settled into place in her mind and she continued to cry, realizing what had just happened. The Stag Lord had used her purity, taken it, and brought forth his offspring with it, and it made her sob. 

The crowd erupted in cheers and cries of happiness. The blessing between her trembling legs also cried out, until it was shushed by someone just out of Dove’s vision. Wynn approached her and brought a thin sheet to cover Dove, whispering sweetly in her ear. 

“You did beautifully,” Wynn cooed, “you’ll do even better next time.”

[minhosimthings]

D!ck

Symphony Smut Series Day 3: Doja Cat and Starbo3's D!ck

Lyric: She actin like an addict

Pairings: Husband!Sunoo × fem!wife!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, pheromone usage, p in v, oral (f receiving), dom!Sunoo, sub!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, spitting, sort of a breeding kink, brat reader, swearing, french kisses

A/N: and day 3 has come! I loved writing for Sunoo, cause I've never written for him before and also CAUSE HE'S MY AGE YAAAS. So have some pheromones even though Sunoo doest need those for me to cling onto him

THE SYMPHONY SMUT SERIES MASTERLIST

Buisness trips. So boring weren't they? For the wife of a man who was constantly on them, it was even more so.

"Sunoo another party today?" You're sighed, falling back on the bed as your husband laughed and adjusted his tie in the mirror.

"Im sorry darling, but I've got to attend." Sunoo fixed his hair, carefully combing down a cowlick, "Would you like to come too? You know that blue dress has been laying idle in your cupboard for a long time."

"It's turquoise, Sun." You grumbled, getting up and giving a quick kiss to your husband, before fumbling with his tie, "I'll wear it, only if you agree to give me what I want tonight."

Sunoo chuckled and leaned closer, basically pinning you against the wall, before going in for a deep kiss. His tongue collided with yours painfully, giving you the taste of something you've been wanting to devour for weeks.

"Ngh- Sun" you wanted him to eat you out right there and then.

"Tch tch impatient aren't you?" Sunoo chuckled. You could feel his erection press against your sweatpants, rubbing arousal into you.

"Tonight sunshine." Sunoo caressed your cheek, "I promise. Tonight after the party. Get all pretty for me alright?"

The night was coming too slow for you. All throughout the day, you did nothing but laze around, annoy the cook into teaching you how to make lasagna, failing at making said lasagna, and then speed running a Pokemon game.

But the real treasure of the day were the few minutes before you were getting ready.

Patting down the creases of your perfectly ironed dress, you admired yourself in the mirror, doing a little spin for yourself, and watching as the fabric perfectly spun like a Disney scene. The pearls on your neck stood out too, with their gliterry sheen and the gold embossments.

Reaching into your perfume drawer, you spotted a green coloured tube, which was labelled 'Oil perfume'.

You chuckled at that. Oil perfume, your ass. That, you were certain, was the 'special' perfume Sunoo has gotten you from Italy.

Chuckling like a villain to yourself, you took the greasy substance from the tube and applied it to your neck and wrists, where you knew Sunoo would kiss you, inhaling the intoxicating perfumes of the pheromone, and maybe he'd give you your cake earlier than before.

"Darling, you look stunning." Sunoo greeted you, as you stepped out of your room into the hallway.

"Thank you Sun." You giggled, promptly lifting your wrists up for Sunoo to kiss.

"Nice perfume." Sunoo kissed your wrists more harshly than he usually did.

"Fuck you smell so good."

You had no time to think about anything, as the next second, you were against the wall with Sunoo an inch from your face.

Your tongue danced with his in what seemed to a synchronized tango, the two of you treating each other with as much love and affection that your bodies could exude at the moment. His hands toyed with the hem of your dress, his fingers drawing small circles on your thigh. You brought your hands up to his face when you two pulled away from the kiss, pressing your lips against the tip of his nose. His lips connected themselves to your mouth once more, a smile on his face as he did.

He led you to the top of the bed, laying you down slowly as his body hovered on top of yours. He took a moment to take you in, how the light coming from the curtains accentuated your every feature. He leaned in, pressing a small kiss to your forehead and moving on to your cheeks. "You’re so breathtaking baby." he whispered, his mouth coming to yours as he kissed you with such an intensity you'd never faced before.

He undid your dress after you gave him a curt nod, tossing it off to the side. He pressed his lips to the side of your neck, leaving wet open-mouthed kisses on the surface. You moved your neck to give him more access, offering what you could of your body so he could take. his hand moved downward, cupping your breast in his grasp. His fingers rolled around the nipples, pinching and tugging them the way that would have them hardening underneath his grasp. He bit down on your neck, his tongue running over the affected skin to soothe the sting a bit. His mouth moved down to your other breast, engulfing it and treating it the same as the other one.

You brought your hand down to his hair, grasping at the strands as his teeth gently tugged on your nipples. The buds started to erect with every swipe and lick that he took at them, his eyes locking on yours with every movement that he took. Your mouth slightly parted, your breathing starting to grow a little heavier as he stimulated your nipples. He pulled away, leaving a small kiss on the top of your breasts before pressing his lips against your stomach. He trailed kisses all the way down to your cunt, stopping where he knew that you needed him most. His lips moved to your inner thighs, pressing kisses against the delicate flesh. He bit into your right thigh, his fangs leaving their indenture when he pulled away from you.

His mouth eventually did make itself to your cunt, his tongue swiping across your folds to collect the slick that had accumulated. You closed your thighs around his head instinctively, watching as he looked up at you while licking a stripe up your pussy. "Always did taste so good for me, could spend hours buried in this pussy," he spoke up, his tongue going inside your hole after he finished with what he had to say. Your hands made their way to his hair, your fingers gently stroking his hair as he started to push his tongue in and out of you. His eyes rolled to the back of his head when your slick coated his tongue, often taking more pleasure in this than you. "Oh fuck, right there," you moaned out, your voice sounding needy as you felt his tongue hit that one spot inside of you.

He moaned, feeling your body shudder beneath him, your muscles clenching tight around his mouth. He moved faster, his fingers digging into your hips as he pressed his tongue deeper, relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure. "That's it, baby," he growled, his voice low and raspy.

You were right at that moment, feeling your belly pressurize as Sunoo moved like a maniac around your clit. But-

"Oh fuck this." Sunoo spat at your pussy, "I need you inside me."

Your eyes are fixated on his cock that yearns to be inside of your warmth. He pumps his length a few times, drops of precumming spilling out of his sensitive tip as he slowly lines himself up with your drooling entrance. You mewl out lewdly as he pushes himself in, filling you up completely and your palms fly up to his shoulders for purchase. 

You're thankful he prepped you a little bit earlier otherwise you're not so sure if you could take him in one go like this. after a few heartbeats, he rolls his hips slightly, his pelvis rubbing against your puffy clit and you moan softly. 

He picks up the tempo, his thrusts now faster and harder as the room echoes with the sounds of your pleasure and the bed creaking. his strong arms move your legs up to rest on his broad shoulders, making the position more intimate but most importantly, making it easier for him to go deeper.

Sunoo's nostrils are flared, taking in the sweet poison of your perfume. He didn't know what was making him act like this, but he loved it.

The kiss on your neck was gentle and innocent compared to the sinful actions being committed with each of his powerful thrusts. With every single drag of your tight cunt against his dick, constantly clenching around him deliberately which forced out a long string of groans as he felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge.

He dotes on the sound of your sweet voice calling out his name in a choked whisper, your nails clawing down his back. Your cunt pulsing around his cock. Your juices spilling from your hole as he thrusts into you like there's no tomorrow.

"Fuck Sunoo!" you cry as you cream around his cock, cunt tensing around him which pushes him over the edge too. He lets out a broken moan as his warmth fills you up. he stays inside of you for a few moments, not wanting his cum to go to waste. 

"So I guess we'll be skipping the party today?" You look at your husband cheekily.

Sunoo glared at you and gripped your waist more tightly.

"You used that perfume didn't you?" He poked his cheek with his tongue, "Didn't know you were such an impatient slut for me."

"Don't worry darling.

I've not even started yet."

[sinsofsummers]

cool about it

3.4k | boston!joel miller x f!reader

summary: it’s that day again. you don’t know why joel’s so withdrawn, but you help him manage it in the best way you know how. based on 'cool about it' by boygenius. warnings: angst angst angst, angsty smut (sorry), 18+, mdni, implied age gap (joel 50s, reader late 20s) grumpy & sad joel, drug use, alcohol use, oral (m receiving), p in v, creampie, shoulder kisses, pet names & slight praise, body worship kind of, feelings but also joel is bad at feelings, established...situationship. thing. pining (but don't tell them that). romance?? how dare you accuse them of such treachery note: i am so sorry...this is pure unbridled self-indulgence. pls forgive me. also this is set in boston qz, reader and joel have a similar relationship to the one he has with tess, but she doesn't exist in this au (i'm so sorry). also i am kind of so proud of this one

It's been years since you met him, since you've begun to crack his otherwise hard exterior, helping him shed every icy layer to reveal the tired, aging man beneath it all. You've both gone to unbelievable lengths to protect one another against any trouble, or enemy, or plague, that has cast itself in your way. Each night concludes with your limbs tangled together, hands tucked safely within each other's reach. A promise, so quiet it's hardly binding—I've got you.

You've never defined exactly what it means when he calls you sweet pea, or when his lips drop a chaste kiss to your forehead in the morning, or when his hand lingers on your elbow a little longer than normal in the QZ. It never needed to mean anything, so the two of you never spoke about it. You belong to him; he belongs to you.

And yet, every year, on the exact same morning, Joel Miller wakes up a stranger to you. His eyes return to the icy dark depths that you met him with, and his hands find purchase in his pockets rather than absentmindedly rubbing circles on your skin. Every year, without fail, he retreats to his past, a place he won't ever let you see, despite your every wish.

i came prepared for absolution, if you'd only ask

A few years after you met him, you had tried asking him to explain, to let you into his head. It wasn't an attempt at intimacy, or a vulnerability that resembled anything that you hadn't seen from him before, but he'd done nothing more than shake his head.

"M'fine," he'd said. The entire day, every time you asked, no matter how softly, his answer remained unchanged. "Don't feel much like talkin'."

So instead of talking, you'd resorted to letting him come back to you on his own time, in his own way. With rough hands pushing you down to lay on your back, his eyes far away even as he brought you to the edges of bittersweet ecstasy. His kisses were always softer, more distracted. But it was the only communication you ever got out of him on those days.

When he rolled over at night, his hands curled into loose fists, you let him be. He never refused your touch, but you knew enough to recognize when it wouldn't come as any comfort to him. Not on those nights. Never on those nights.

The closest you'd get to falling asleep in his arms on those nights was with a hand placed purposefully between your chest and his back, just close enough that he might lean into it, should he shift in his sleep. And in those soft brushes of skin against cloth lay a million questions.

Forgive me, you'd begged inwardly one night. Forgive me for not understanding, and I'll forgive you for not sharing.

When the sun rose on a new morning, he was always back to the man you were used to, that you had grown dependent on. When his hands reached for you, and when his mouth painted swirls on your chest, you knew that it was out of want for you, not to distract himself from the ghosts of his own past.

He always praised your body's reaction to him, and you always relished in the way that his hips rocked against yours, stretching you out for him—tongue, fingers, his hard intrusion—on those mornings after.

You'd left it at that, for a year or two.

once i took your medication to know what it's like

He'd been resorting to more intense solutions when you decided to do it. When that day came as it always did, you watched as he drowned out the hours with whiskey and pills. You never knew where his supply came from or who was responsible for getting him his drug of choice; you could only sit idly by and watch his features droop from the effects of the dangerous combination, shuffling to your shared bed before he'd pass out until the sun rose on the next morning.

It only took three instances of this before you'd resolved to go through the day exactly as he would, as if it might help you understand. Perhaps it wasn't anything you were meant to understand, but you'd grown weary of seeing him motionless for hours on end. Usually, you never said anything. You didn't really believe he would take enough to cause any real damage; you were blindly faithful in his will to live.

"Joel," you'd said one year. That was all. One syllable, so familiar, and yet it bled with enough warning in your tone that he paused. Don't.

Glass raised, the rim already pressed to his lips—the lips of which you knew every crack and curve—pills already dissolving on his tongue, he'd paused. His eyes never looked at you, though. He sat there, frozen but for the whiskey sloshing gently in the glass before he resumed, swallowing the dark liquid in one go. With hardly a glance in your direction, he'd collapsed to the bed.

You didn't know exactly why you did it, or why it had been that year that you'd become fed up, but you couldn't ignore the fear that struck your chest when you saw him hit the mattress. Before you knew it, you'd swallowed the pills, scowling at the burn of whiskey down your throat.

It had never been your choice of liquor, but you braved the sting in your foolish hopes that it might tell you something about the gray-haired man in your bed. Like drinking his whiskey might envelope you in his arms and whisper his secrets to you.

Laying down beside him, you'd curled up to his side. He was already deep in his drugged slumber; he wouldn't be conscious enough to move from your touch. With a hand on his chest, poised over his heart to reassure yourself that he still had one, you closed your eyes and succumbed to the heavy press of sleep.

When he woke, saw your own empty glass and pill bottle left open on the table, he shook you until you startled awake. Eyes bleary, the effects of the drugs wearing off, you caught him staring down at you, his nose brushing your cheek and his lips a hair's breadth from touching yours.

"Don't ever fuckin' do that again, sweet pea," he snarled, but his words held no malice. You tried to ignore how big his eyes were, pupils blown wide.

You'd wanted to snap at him, to tell him the same thing, but you heard the desperate begging in his voice. The unspoken please. So rather than causing a scene, you'd nodded slowly and let your fingers brush the hem of his shirt. "Okay," you'd whispered. "I won't. Never again, Joel," you repeated, a mantra as you slipped your hands underneath his shirt.

Sliding his arms under your body and pulling you to him, he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, then your cheeks, both of your eyelids. He finally bent to your lips, chasing the taste of you and finding only his own mistakes on your tongue.

The day had passed. He had survived. With the gentle lull of his hips slotting against your own, he had breathed shakily into your mouth as your hands wandered along his skin. Like clockwork, Joel Miller had returned to you, if only for a short while.

i ask you how you're doing, and i let you lie

One day, the pills ran out. The whiskey didn't do anything on its own, so Joel was stuck to find something else to distract him. Whether you were the one that flushed his pills or found who was supplying him, you'd never admit. It was much too close to a confession of something than either of you were comfortable with, so you'd stayed quiet. Helped him find a new vice.

These days, you've lost count of how many years you've seen him withdraw into himself, a shell of the man you know. You've stopped trying to follow where his mind goes when the sun rises on that early autumn day, and he's never made the attempt to explain. For just one day a year, the two of you are silent except for a few mumbled words. Your hands rarely touch on those days, always a few centimeters from each other as he sits at the table.

A reminder. That you're there, that he's there, and that the day will pass. It always does.

His new vice becomes you before long, and you can manage that. He's never particularly rough on those days, anyway; he just needs your body to distract his mind. It takes him a bit to sink into the comfort of your curves, but you always help him get there. Until he's twitching under your hands and letting his eyes flutter closed as you expertly undo his jeans.

You never make him fuck you when he's like this, but you're happy to oblige when he slips a hand between your thighs, reaching for your core and always finding it ready for him. If it pleases him, you let him take whatever he needs.

With whispered moans that make your chest constrict and rough fingers pressing bruises to your hips that he'll kiss away the next morning, he gets through the day.

Today, you know it's not one of those mornings. He's already been awake for a while when you open your eyes, based on his tense posture as he sits on the edge of the bed. He's facing the window, which means his back is to you, withholding his face from yours.

Of course, you don't need to look at him to know what his face will look like. His chin is tucked toward his chest, and his eyes will be closed, hands clenched together as if in prayer. But you know better than to think of Joel Miller as a spiritual man. Whatever faith he might have had all those years ago has withered into scraps. His only faith is in your constant presence in his bed each night.

You sit up slowly, and the sound of rustling sheets makes him twitch his head to the side, the sight of his jaw ticking the only acknowledgement of you being there. With slow movements, you move to sit behind him, your legs on either side of his hips but never close enough to touch. He's gotten better at allowing for a few more moments of contact, and you think this means he's making progress.

How could you ever be sure, though? When he still won't reveal the pain of today?

"Did you wake up to see the sunrise?" you ask gently, leaning forward and bracing your hands in front of you, waiting. His response will determine how you'll distract him for the coming hours.

As usual, Joel doesn't say anything, but his back reclines an inch. It's all you need.

"I'll bet it was real pretty," you continue, trying to keep your voice soft. This is one of your many routines; you lift your hands and press them to his back, just enough for him to feel your fingertips. You don't know if he listens to anything you say, or if he even cares. This part is just for you. This is how you get through these days.

You lean just a bit further, letting your forehead rest on his shoulder. Your hands slide around his middle and your stomach flips selfishly at the feeling of his muscles tensing beneath your featherlight touch. Reaching down for his lap, you rest your palm against his jeans, feeling him twitch against your hand. There he is.

Maybe it's sad, maybe it's fucked up, but fuck what anyone else would say. This is what he needs, the only thing that helps him stay out of his nightmarish memories, whatever they may be. You'll never ask him to show that side of himself, not anymore.

Pressing a kiss to his shoulder, you deftly work the button on his jeans, pushing the zipper down and reaching into his waistband until his half-hard cock comes free. It rests heavy in your hand, and you're comforted by the weight of it. His shoulders are too broad for you to see it, but you're not bothered by this. With another kiss, this one landing on the soft skin of his neck, you give him a languid stroke.

Joel's chest rises and falls as he breathes, and you can feel his arousal stirring as he grows firmer in your grip. His hands begin to unclench, but his fingers remain flat on his tights, never touching you outside of where your legs are hooked to his, your chest flush with his back.

The room is silent except for his breathing, every second getting more shallow. You can feel the tension in his back release a little, and you let your thumb rub a slow circle over the slit on his tip, precum just starting to leak onto your hand.

You stay like this for a few minutes, one arm wrapped around his stomach and your other hand on his cock, tugging slow enough not to overwhelm him, and fast enough to keep him pulsing in your hand.

Only when his hips buck involuntarily do you let go, moving from your place behind him to the floor. Your knees hit the wood hard, but you ignore the pain as your hands slide up his thighs.

His own hands remain still on his jeans, and he lets you interlock your fingers with his own. A small mercy. Today might not be as bad as the years before, and you dip your head to lick a stripe from base to tip before closing your mouth around the head of his cock.

Joel's fingers twitch in your grasp, and you squeeze back, hardly noticeable. Just enough to act as thanks. Thank you for letting me do this. For you.

You never look up, afraid of what his eyes will betray when your mouth is around him. You know this is only a distraction, a slow respite from his thoughts. So you ignore the impatient pulse between your thighs and take him as deep as he'll go, your hopes lifting when you hear his shaky sighs.

One of his hands released yours and lands on your head, smoothing your hair as his hips fight to keep still. Your head bobs up and down, your spit mixing with his precum to leave a shining mess on his shaft.

He pats your head softly, the wet sounds of your mouth on him the only noise in the room. But then he's opening his mouth, and he's combing his fingers through your hair, and he's mumbling, "thank you, sweet pea," just quiet enough that you think you're imagining it.

Maybe you did. He doesn't say it again, and you don't look up to see how wrecked he looks. You're content to remain on your knees the entire day if it means he can relax, let go of whatever's haunting him.

But then he's pulling your head back, his cock leaving your mouth with a wet pop. Hands under your arms, he tugs you to stand in front of him. This time you do let yourself look at him, but his eyes don't lift to meet yours. He tugs your shorts and panties from your body, and once you step out of them he splays his hands on the backs of your thighs to pull you onto his lap.

His head is still tipped toward where your bodies rest against each other, rocking your pelvis against the length of his cock with a shuddering sigh. But you don't mind the view; you sit just a few inches taller than him in this position, so you can brace yourself against his shoulders, your chin resting against the top of his head.

He reaches down to rub a few quick circles on your clit, and you let him move your hips when he's ready, lodging his cock at your entrance. You're dripping, you have been this entire time, but you'd shoved down the heady desire that had punched its way through your body until he was ready. Now, with his hand guiding his tip into your sopping cunt, you let out a breath. There he is, a voice in your head repeats.

He pushes your hips down at an agonizingly slow pace, your pussy swallowing every inch of him, the sounds of your moans colliding at the feeling. "So good to me," he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your sternum and tilting his head back, closing his eyes. "Perfect."

You know that he doesn't think he deserves your praise, but you give it to him anyway. "That's it," you hum, squirming with his cock buried to the hilt. It's all you can do not to lift your hips and drag yourself up and down his length. "Take what you need, Joel."

He never lasts long when he can feel your walls squeezing his cock for all it's worth, your body betraying you when your mind just wants to remain warm and wet and ready for him all day long, until he's ready to be done with you. But with one look at you, his dark eyes finally connecting to yours, he blinks. "Thank you, sweat pea," he murmurs again.

You lift your thumb to his forehead and you trace the lines on his weathered skin, watching as your touch releases the tension from his face. All that's left is his desire, his need for you, however distracted it may be.

Joel lets himself enjoy this, as he rocks his hips into yours, the head of his cock brushing that spot deep inside you until you're shaking in his hands, forehead tipped against his as you let your moans fill the space between the two of you. He lifts your hips, pulling you nearly all the way off of him until he shoves you back down, the delicious squelch of your pussy on his cock wrenching a knee-buckling groan from his lips. "Where?" he asks, as he does every time.

You don't need to tell him, but you do. "Fill me up, Joel," you coo, a shot of pleasure spreading throughout your entire body. "Come with me, I'm right here with you."

"That's it, darlin'," is all he groans before he's wrapping his arms around your back, tugging your chest to him in a tight embrace. His face disappears into the space between your breasts and you feel his entire body quiver with yours as you reach your peak. Warmth floods your core as he spills his release into you, your walls fluttering with the intensity of your orgasm. You pull him to you, returning his near-painful embrace.

You're as close as lovers, as close to one another as you can physically get, but it'll never be enough.

The high after he comes inside you is fleeting. Only a few minutes pass before the line inevitably returns to his brow and his frown deepens after he softens. He doesn't lift you off of him, though, so you soak up the feeling while you can.

"Better?" you whisper, eyes locked on his.

He nods slowly after a moment, his mouth set in a grim line. "Always," he mumbles gently, his hand cupping your jaw as his thumb strokes your bottom lip. He presses his thumb into your mouth to the first knuckle, letting you taste salt and old sweat and your nectar on his skin.

You know better than to believe him, but you don't argue. Not today, never today. So you lift the corners of your lips in a sad smile and pretend that it doesn't feel like water rising in your lungs every time this day comes.

but we don't have to talk about it

i can walk you home and practice method acting

i'll pretend being with you doesn't feel like drowning

tellin' you it's nice to see how good you're doing

even though we know it isn't true

Joel will never tell you what's on his mind. Never today. September 26th won't ever mean anything to you, so why would he bother? For him, it's everything and nothing all at once. Brown curls and sparkling young eyes and blood crusted on his arms and the unforgettable weight of death in his arms.

Another year older, he sighs, his heart clenching in grief. Another year older, and another year further from everything he's lost.

tysm for reading, here's a box of tissues. :') i love u all

[andreafmn]

Kinktober ⛓️ Day 3

Word Count: 2.5K Paring:  Lip Gallagher x Fem!Reader Prompt @kinktober2023: Hate Sex WARNINGS: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI),  p-in-v sex, foul language, reader is technically underage

Summary: There is no one that (Y/N) despises more than Philip Gallagher, but having his brother as her best friend forces them in close proximity more than they would like. Or maybe they do?

A/N: This is set some time during season 3 so Lip is around 18 and reader would be 17 since she's contemporary with Ian's age, so do with that what you will.

<- Previous

“Yo, Ian,” Lip’s voice rang through the house. “You’re girlfriend’s here!”

“Oh, fuck off, Lip,” (Y/N) said as she bumped past him into the Gallagher home. “I know you wish I was here to see you, but I don’t do charity work on Tuesdays.” 

“Fuck you, (Y/L/N). You’d be lucky if I was the one you were studying with.” 

“Of course, the genius Philip Gallagher that doesn’t even want to go to college,” she snickered, stopping at the rest on the stairs. “I’ll take my chances with my own brain. Thanks.”  

“You’ll regret helping Ian with math,” he called as he walked to the front door. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

With an exasperated scoff, (Y/N) walked up the rest of the stairs, clutching her backpack tighter than she should have. She didn’t understand why she and the older Gallagher son didn’t get along. She had a wonderful relationship with everyone else in the family –even Frank was courteous enough with her– but something never clicked with Lip. Every time they were in close proximity, they would bicker and fight until someone else got in the way. It made it especially difficult when (Y/N) came over to spend time with Ian. 

She would never say she hated Lip. But the sentiment was close enough that others would notice. Between the terrible side-eyes and the snide comments, being around the two could easily become suffocating. Granted, everyone but them knew what was truly happening. They had met their match in each other but were too stubborn to admit it. 

“You ran into Lip, didn’t you?” Ian chuckled as his friend walked into his room. “It’s all over your face.” 

“Unfortunately, I did,” she sighed, plopping down next to him on the floor. “But he seemed to be going somewhere, so I didn’t have to talk to him for much.” 

“Just long enough to make sure you got annoyed. Perfect mood to study Geometry with you.” 

“Fuck you, I’m always a delight.” 

“Sure. Until you spend a second with Lip, and then everything goes to shit.” 

“Shut up, Ian,” she said, rolling her eyes. “If you want me to help you study, you’ll stop talking about your despicable brother, Phillip.” 

Hours passed between textbooks and worksheets, notebooks and loose papers, and somehow the bright afternoon sun had shifted into night. Ian had already gone to bed, tired from a long day of shapes and mathematical equations. Almost everyone in the house had done the same, tucked into bed early, which was a luxury for anyone on the South Side. 

Meanwhile, (Y/N) was still wide awake, taking advantage of the tiredness of the family to use up what was left of the hot water. She could have gone home, to her packed house and probably cold water, but she found comfort staying with the Gallaghers. The family was a melting pot of chaos, there were more fights than a WWE ring, and every single day brought a different kind of adventure. Her house had all of that, except the real warmth of a family. And being there made her feel like she was a part of something. 

The water ran across her skin, soothing the tight muscles that stiffened her body. The smell of soap filled her nose as she lathered herself, and she was glad that the bar seemed new still. They were small luxuries that she was grateful she could partake in every once in a while. And in the quiet of the night, it was almost peaceful.

Until a sound that did not fit into her spa-like scenario filled the air. From behind the curtain, she could hear a strong stream of liquid falling into the toilet. But she knew she had locked the door —not that it would have worked in that house anyway. 

She moved the curtain slightly to reveal Lip standing in front of the toilet. “What the fuck are you doing?” (Y/N) exclaimed, making sure her body was covered. “Can’t you see I’m using the bathroom?” 

“You’re in the shower. Toilet was up for grabs.” 

“Why couldn’t you have gone downstairs?” 

“Because I was already upstairs,” he shrugged, shaking his cock above the toilet as he finished. “Stop gawking, (Y/N). I know it’s impressive, but staring is kind of rude.” 

“Fuck you, Lip. I’ve seen better,” she said, closing the curtain to conceal the way her skin was flushing. “I’ve definitely been with better.” 

“Keep telling yourself that,” he snickered, turning on the sink. “But we both know the guys you’ve fucked are not exactly Adonises.”

“You’re such an asshole, Lip,” she scoffed. “If you’re gonna be here, at least pass me my towel.”

“Why should I? You can just step out.” 

“You’re not seeing me naked, Lip.” 

“It’s only fair,” he chuckled. “You saw mine, I get to see yours.” 

“Stop being a perv, Lip. I’m not one of those chicks you fuck for fun. I actually have standards.” 

“Right, and they’re so high, right?”

“They are.” 

“Is that why you fucked Billy Spencer two months ago or lost your v-card with Jesse Suarez in his car? Yeah, those standards are skyscraping high.” 

In a fit of rage, (Y/N) ripped the curtain open and sauntered out of the tub, getting as close to Lip as possible. “You don’t get to fucking judge my decisions, Philip,” she spat, jabbing her index finger against his chest. “Who I sleep with or don’t sleep with is none of your business. And you sure as hell are one to talk. Your list is not the most pristine, either. Starting with Karen, for example.”

“Don’t you fucking talk about her,” he said through gritted teeth, pushing back on her as she had. “You don’t talk about her.” 

“What? You can dish it out but can’t fucking take it, huh?”

“I can take whatever you fucking throw at me, (Y/N). I ain’t scared of you.” 

“Maybe you should be,” she continued. There was almost no space between them. She had him pressed against the wall, their noses almost touching as they heaved in anger. “There is no one else that can put you in your place like I can, and you know it.” 

“I don’t need you to put me in my place.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’re so fucking infuriating!” 

“Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?” 

Lip’s next move was a surprise to her. She was expecting him to keep yelling or stomp out of the bathroom. Instead, he placed a hand on either side of her face and crashed his lips onto hers. He was all kinds of rough and forceful, clashing teeth and lips together without any care. But somehow, (Y/N) found herself kissing back just as roughly, grabbing onto the lapel of his jacket. 

But it wasn’t until she felt the roughness of his hands on the skin of her back that she realized she had jumped out of the shower, naked and still dripping with water. She jumped away from Lip as though his touch was fire and scrambled for her towel, trying her best to cover her body from him.

“Why are you covering yourself now?” he laughed. “I already saw everything, (Y/N).”

“Fuck you, Philip.”

“I was gonna let you,” he grinned. “But it looks like you got performance anxiety. Maybe you’re not as good as guys say.” 

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but I’m great in bed,” she argued. “But I would rather do it with someone I actually like.”

“It’s just sex, (Y/N),” he countered. “This is not to fall in love.” 

(Y/N) kept quiet for a beat, thinking over the boy’s request. His reputation for being a good lay preceded him, and she would have been lying if she said she had never thought about it. But the fact that his personality was almost revolting made her wonder if it was worth it. 

“God, you’re so fucking infuriating,” she said before doing the same thing he had done. “This means nothing. You’re just convenient.”

“Right,” he chuckled against her mouth. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Oh, shut up already.” 

“Make me.” 

Her lips did all the answering, molding to his mouth perfectly, their tongues dancing together in perfect symphony. If she had believed in fate and the alignment of the universe, she would have deluded herself into thinking that they were meant to be. 

Lip’s clothes were rough against her unclothed skin, the zippers and the fabrics scratching at her body and rubbing the most sensitive parts of her body that were exposed. Warmth pooled between her legs with the kiss alone, and her body’s reaction scared her. It was almost instantaneous, and it had been the first time it had happened. 

“It’s not fair that I’m the only one that’s naked,” she said breathlessly.

“Do you ever stop fucking talking?” 

“Not when my mouth’s unoccupied,” she snickered. “And I have a lot to say.”  

“You’re too fucking much,” he grumbled as he took off layer after layer of clothing, letting them fall to the floor. “Now come here.”

He kissed her roughly again, pressing his chest as close to her body as he could, his hands snaking to the small of her back. As their mouth moved in synch, they walked backward until her back was pressed against the wall, the coldness making her skin erupt in goosebumps. But his hands were enough to build a fire inside her. The way they mapped every inch of her body and worked in tandem with his mouth to find her most sensitive spots. 

Lip nipped at her jaw and her neck, traveling down to her collarbone as his hands tweaked the hardened peaks of her breasts. Somehow, he was able to annoy her within an inch of raging ire and could bring her to the brink of orgasm with just his mouth and hands. 

In a swift move, Lip turned (Y/N), bending her against the wall as he pulled the zipper of his pants down. The clothes pooled at his ankles as he held his cock and lined himself up with her wetness, running the head across her fold and teasing her clit. 

“For someone that is just doing this out of convenience, you’re really wet,” he chuckled darkly. “Have you been dreaming about this?” 

“I could ask the same of you, Philip,” she retorted. “Because for someone that doesn’t really care, you’re really fucking hard.” 

“I’m only just a man, (Y/N).” 

“How about you shut up and prove it already, then? Maybe…” 

(Y/N)’s words died in her throat as she felt him sink into her completely, stretching her walls like no one had done before. He took the air out of her lungs, a moan getting strangled in her throat at the suddenness. 

Lip didn’t move instantly, allowing her body to get used to the size. At least, that was what he would have said if she had asked. Truthfully, being inside her was the most overwhelming experience he had ever had. He needed a moment to compose himself before he busted too early. The last thing he needed was for (Y/N) to have more ammo against him. He enjoyed their bickering reparté, but he had quite the reputation when it came to sex, and he wouldn’t let her ruin it. Even if his body was trying to betray him. 

Once he felt he could control himself, he started moving hips, quickly setting a pace that had (Y/N) letting out a string of moans that he wanted to listen to for the rest of his life. Her hands gripped the towel bar before her, her knuckles turning white from the tightness. She met his every move, pushing against him as he pummeled into her. 

“Harder,” she meweled. “Fuck me harder, Philip.” 

Lip did exactly as told. Skin met skin at a rapid pace, filling the otherwise quiet room with pants, moans, and slaps. Even her using his full name did not put a damper on his mood, rather loved the way it sounded in her mouth. And for the first time, it didn’t sound like she was saying it with  hate. At least, not completely. 

He snaked his hand around her body, his hand finding the mound of her clit and pressing two fingers on it. They circled and rolled the bud, making her walls clench around him as he pistoned into her. He knew both of them were reaching their end. The tightening of her cunt and the tightening of his balls told him enough.

“Fuck, don’t stop, Lip. Don’t you dare fucking stop.” 

“I wasn’t planning to.” 

And he didn’t. He kept thrusting until (Y/N) let out a pleasurable yell that had him covering her mouth. As he did, she bit down on his skin unconsciously, making him moan and awakening something in him he didn’t know was dormant. It brought him right to the brink of his end, and it took everything in him to leave her warmth and explode all over her ass. 

His body slumped over hers, absentmindedly kissing the skin of her shoulder as they both came down from their orgasm. They felt comfortable in their silence, their pants synching and their bodies melting against each other. If they could have, they would have fallen asleep in that very position. 

But a knock on the door startled them apart.

“Yo, I need the bathroom,” Carl called from the other side of the door. “I’ve gotta piss real bad.” 

“Can you go downstairs, Carl?” (Y/N) asked. “I’m just finishing up in the shower.” 

“Ugh, fine! Just hurry up. There’s more people in this house, you know?” 

“Yeah, sorry!” 

After wiping themselves down, Lip and (Y/N) started getting dressed, neither meeting each other’s gaze. “We don’t speak about this to anyone,” she finally said. “Especially not Ian. And this can’t happen ever again.” 

“Sure,” he mumbled. “Whatever you say.” 

“I’m serious, Philip,” she pleaded, placing a hand on his chest to get his attention. “If Ian finds out, I’ll never hear the end of it.” 

“I won’t say anything,” he laughed, looking at her in a way he never had before. “But I wouldn’t mind if this happened again.” 

“Are you serious?” 

“What? The rumors are true. You are a good lay.” 

“You’re not too bad yourself, Mr. Gallagher,” she grinned before stopping at the door to exit first. “But I don’t think this will happen again.” 

“Keep telling yourself that, (Y/N).” 

“Fuck off, Philip,” she whispered from the end of the hall before disappearing into the boys’ bedroom, leaving Lip to think of just how he could make this a repeat situation.

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[chestharrington]

Infatuation || Gator Tillman x Reader

Part One: Fixation

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: SMUT (f!masturbation, fingering, unprotected p in v), mild/implied stalking, abuse of power, brief non-sexual choking, harassment, slut shaming, misogyny, unplanned pregnancy, implied/referenced abortion, unhappy/ambiguous ending

Summary: As you face the consequences of your unsatisfying encounter with Gator, he finds new ways to worm his way into your life, for better or worse.

A/N: Here is the highly requested part two :) Thanks for all the love, and I hope you enjoy! This can be read as a finale of sorts to this story, but if there is interest I can write a "wrap up" epilogue :) Anyways, enjoy!

As it turns out, Gator Tillman beating the guy you were dancing on within an inch of his life wasn’t exactly good for your career. And the fact that you had technically stolen that guy’s money was the shit icing on the shit cake. 

The club was crowded, maybe more so than you were used to, but you couldn’t find a single patron who wanted you for a dance, or a private dance, or even a second of eye contact. 

And, really, you should have seen it coming just based on the general trajectory of your life, but by the end of the night, you were fired. Apparently, that stint with the realtor and Gator had harmed the stellar reputation of the business. That was bullshit anyway. Like, four people had OD’d in the bathrooms, and plenty of old guys had heart attacks on the floor. 

The problem wasn’t that the realtor got the shit beat out of him. No, plenty of guys came in, got drunk, and wanted to prove how tough they were. The problem was Gator, but, more than that, it was a fear of the Tillman’s getting too close. 

You left the club with maybe thirty dollars in tips and a box full of your shit, which you unceremoniously dumped into the trunk of your car. It was past five in the morning, which meant the sun would start creeping over the horizon soon enough. 

As you drove back into town, you couldn’t help but pull over at the twenty-four-hour diner. The homey interior glowed through the windows like a siren song to weary travelers. It always smelled like coffee and grease, and there were always oldies playing on the jukebox. You sat down in a booth and practically melted into the seat. 

The older woman taking your order seemed nice enough, though there wasn’t anything about working at the asscrack of dawn that brought a smile to anyone’s face. 

“Does Sarah still work here?” You asked, glancing back behind the counter. 

“Quit.”

Well, there was that. Your ex-husband’s skanky mistress wouldn’t be showing her face to ruin your night (or, technically, your day) even further.

There was a sign on the counter— Now Hiring! Probably in Sarah’s position, if you had to wager a guess. You chewed on the inside of your lip. It wouldn’t be glamorous, but it would be a hell of a lot better than it had been at the club. 

“You’re really hiring?” You eventually asked the older waitress as you nursed a cup of hot chocolate. When she brought out your meal— a big stack of pancakes and the greasiest pile of hash browns the world had ever seen— she placed an application and pen down right beside it. 

They really must’ve been desperate, because you got the call the following afternoon that they’d like to interview, and even that wasn’t formal. You walked in, got a three-page employee “manual”, and that was that. 

Things seemed to be getting better… at first. A new job that had significantly fewer creeps, and free food once a shift. You got to wear flat shoes and real clothes, which was also a plus. A little less money in your pocket, but it was more stable. 

Occasionally, you’d get a tipper who thought it was cute to leave a fake $100 bill with a bible verse on the other side, or an old man grabbing at your tits and ass “accidentally.” Spills and messes were more frequent than you expected— and usually wound up on your apron or soaking through your shoes.

The good with the bad. You had to keep reminding yourself to take the good with the bad.

It was a few weeks of getting on your feet before Stark County’s finest walked through the doors, boisterous and loud. You hadn’t noticed, hadn’t even thought to consider that Gator might visit the town’s best source for greasy comfort food. 

When you came out from the back of the diner, your eyes caught him immediately, sitting in your section. You swallowed, grabbed your order pad and a pen, and approached. 

“Good mornin’, officers.” He looked up at the sound of your voice, a sly grin spreading across his features. “Do y’all know what you want, or can I run through the menu for you?”

One of the other men just snapped his fingers at you. “Coffee all around.”

You swallowed and nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll get that right out.”

You heard them snickering as you left, accompanied by loud whispers of don’t you know who that is? 

Gator was staring at you, maybe he had been the entire time and you just hadn’t let yourself look. “We’ve missed you at the club, sweetheart. Wanna give us a twirl for old time’s sake?” His grin was smarmy as he looked you up and down, reaching over the table to place down the mugs of coffee. Your blouse gaped open, giving him a glimpse of your cleavage and a remarkably unsexy comfy bra.

As you reached to place the last mug down, Gator slapped your ass hard, making you spill the hot coffee across the table. His little friends laughed as your face burned hot. You did your best to mop up the mess of coffee, but it wasn’t enough and the table was left sticky and gross.

“You’re not gonna get a good tip if you’re so clumsy,” one of them said with a grin, holding up a dollar bill. It felt slimy, like you were back in the club entertaining them for singles. 

An hour later, you had coffee and grits spilled on you, as well as a plate accidentally knocked off the table to shatter on the floor. They laughed at you on your hands and knees, picking up pieces of the china from the black and white tiled floor. And at the end of it all, unsurprisingly, there was no tip, no thank you, no anything.  

You wish you would’ve spit in their food, but there was always next time. And you knew there was gonna be a next time. 

But Gator didn’t like sharing, especially not his playthings. One morning of watching his friends make your life hell had been enough, you supposed. The next time they came in, they were nothing but respectful. All yes ma’am, no ma’am, thank you ma’am. The message was clear enough. He wanted you all to himself. 

After a day on your feet, all you wanted to do was watch a shitty reality show on the couch you’d stolen from your ex-husband. You smelled like the deep fryer, which made you nauseous, but you knew if you took a shower, you’d pass out shortly after.

There was a loud knock on your door that nearly made you jump out of your skin. You stood, wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, and opened the door just a crack. 

“We got a tip that you might be harboring illegal contraband on the premises.” Gator was leaning against your doorframe like he owned the place, his foot carefully wedged between the door so you couldn’t slam it closed. 

You grit your teeth. What bullshit. “You don’t have a search warrant, asshole.”

He gave a careless shrug. “Eh, maybe I don’t, but who fuckin’ cares about that?”

You stood firm, holding the door in place as best as you could while he pushed against it. “Gator, no. Whatever game this is, I don’t wanna play. I have a headache, and I’m exhausted, so—” He gave a firm push on the door, and your strength failed you. You fell to the side as he barreled his way in, making a beeline towards your bedroom.

The door slammed shut, followed by the click of the lock turning. With a groan, you went for the coat closet and retrieved a wire hanger that you could finagle the lock with. After a moment, the lock clicked again and you pushed your way into the room. 

What the fuck? He was rifling through your dresser drawers, tossing things onto the ground at random. You doubted he was even really looking for anything in particular. Gator’s priority, above all, was to be a creepy nuisance.

“Gotta be thorough,” he said with a smarmy grin, finally recognizing your presence. “Interfere, and I’m bringing you in for obstruction.” Like the perv he was, he was digging through your panties, grabbing handfuls of lace and cotton. He continued on, throwing things onto the floor just to piss you off. After he’d successfully wrecked one dresser, he moved to the nightstand. 

He smiled victoriously and dumped the contents of the drawer onto your bed. Your cheeks flamed with embarrassment at the sight of your modest collection of sex toys, right there for him to see. 

“There we are. This goes against the city ordinance prohibiting the ownership of more than two personal pleasure devices,” he said matter-of-factly.

“That’s not a thing,” you argued with a scoff.

He grinned. “Oh, it is. My dad worked to codify an ordinance to fight obscenity. And Jesus Christ, sweetheart, this is obscene.” He surveyed the pile picking up the devices with amusement and a hint of disgust. “Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ fiend by the looks of it. What’s this even do?”

You grabbed at the vibrator in his hand, but he held it up above your head with a grin. “You’re a fuckin’ pervert,” You hissed.

He pressed a button and it buzzed to life, which only made his amusement grow. “You know, if you found yourself a man, you wouldn’t need any of this shit.”

You rolled your eyes at the notion. Half that stuff was collected during your marriage, not that it mattered. Jack was worse in bed than he was at being faithful. You grew to relish in the nights when he was in some other woman’s arms and you could finally find some release. 

And you especially relished an opportunity to relax and relieve stress when Gator was hellbent on ruining your fucking life, which was all the time. 

You crossed your arms and glared up at him. “That’s a crazy thing for you to say considering you didn’t even bother to get me off.”

He wrinkled his face in annoyance, dropping the vibrator back onto the bed. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about? You came probably, like, three times.”

You could have laughed. “Whatever. Just write the goddamn citation and leave me alone.”

“Maybe I’m concerned about you,” he said with a shrug. “I mean, if you’ve got this many sex toys, that’s some kind of perversion or somethin’. You’re sick in the head. What kind of officer would I be if I punished you for that?”

He grabbed another one off your bed, a rabbit vibrator this time, which only seemed to confuse him more. “Besides, I don’t think you can really afford the fine for breaking this law. I mean, with what you’ve got here, you’re looking at thousands.”

Anger flooded your veins. “Bullshit,” You snapped. “You’re lying.”

“I mean, you can find out tomorrow,” he replied with another stupid fucking shrug. “Or I can forget I ever saw ‘em. Up to you.”

You swallowed hard, already getting a warm, overbearing feeling in the pit of your stomach. Like your body wasn't sure if it wanted to jump his bones or kill him. “And what exactly would make you do that?”

He smiled, showing off his canines. “I mean… now I’m a little curious. Tell me how you use some of ‘em.” He waved the rabbit in his hand. “This one especially. Looks like some kind of fucked up torture device.”

You huffed with annoyance and reached up, grabbing it from his hands. “This one, I mean… this part goes in, and this part stays out.” You explained with vague gestures toward the toy. You grabbed another off the bed. “And this one is, like, just a standard, like, you know. It buzzes. And that one like, kind of thrusts a little bit. I—I don’t know what the fuck else to tell you.” Just seeing him standing there beside the toys made your brain go a little fuzzy with desire and mortification.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between the two of you. “I think I’m more of a visual learner, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low. He reached up, brushing a lock of your hair from your face, and you did your best not to lean into his touch. Why did you want that? “So why dontcha take off your clothes, lay back, and do a little show and tell, huh?”

The moment of hesitation in your brain dissolved in an instant. You wrinkled your face in disgust and shoved him back. “Ugh. Fuck that, and fuck you.” 

Anger flashed across his face, only for a moment, before he masked it with his usual shithead attitude. “Oh… I get it,” he said, looking down at you. “Probably on your period with all the attitude you’re givin’ me. Forget it, I don’t even wanna see that nasty shit.”

You narrowly avoided him as he shoved past you, heading back towards the door. The scales of kiss versus kill had firmly tilted towards the latter at his last comment. Anger unlike anything you’d ever felt flooded your veins. 

Without thinking, you grabbed a book off of the coffee table in the living room and threw it at him as hard as you could. It collided with the back of his head and he swore loudly. 

“You’re fuckin’ crazy!” His hand went to the crown of his head and came back covered in blood. “What the fuck is wrong with you, you stupid bitch?” You grabbed another book and raised a brow in challenge. “Whatever, you’re not even worth it anyway.”

He slammed the door on his way out. The squeal of his tires as he peeled out was music to your ears. 

Later, you sighed as you collapsed atop your bed, exhausted from the long process of cleaning up the disaster he’d left in your room. But despite how tired you felt physically, your mind was still racing with thoughts of Gator. 

The worst person you’d ever met, who somehow still managed to light every single one of your cells aflame with need. You didn’t want to be with him, obviously. He reminded you of all the worst parts of your ex-husband. And yet… you were staring at the ceiling thinking about the next time you’d see him and all the bitchy things you could get away with saying to him. 

With a huff, you reached into your bedside table and grabbed the first vibrator you could get your hands on— simple, without any bells and whistles. Whatever. You were pissed at yourself as you stripped off your pajamas, then your bra… and then your panties. 

Stupid fuckin’ man. Your head fell back against your pillows as soon as the vibrator touched your clit, and you couldn’t help the whiny moan that escaped your lips. Your free hand rested on your breast, kneading softly until it wasn’t enough anymore. 

Your legs spread wider, hips canting up to seek out more as you began pinching and tugging at your nipples. The plain vibe wasn’t close cutting it, even at its highest setting. All it was good for was working you up to the point of dripping with arousal and needing more. 

You clicked it off and sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. Maybe he was right. Maybe you were a little sick in the head. Why else would you be thinking about him right then?

You reached back into the drawer, fumbling blindly until you retrieved the rabbit. It slid in without any resistance with how worked up you were, and you let out a contented sigh at the full feeling.

The second you turned it on, it felt like liquid electricity was dancing through your veins. The external vibrator was positioned just right, so intense that your thighs were trembling. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered, back arching slightly. Maybe you could’ve let him watch you. It would’ve taught the asshole what it actually looks like when a woman cums. 

You could almost imagine what he’d say too— encouragements veiled with insults. Takin’ it like a fuckin’ slut, aren’t ya? Look right at home on your back like that, spread out all nice and pretty. 

You thrust the toy shallowly, eyes rolling back as it brushed against your sweet spot. You could’ve really drawn it out and made an evening of it, but fuck it. You wanted to get off and go to sleep. 

You held it just right, so the vibration was focused on your g-spot and clit simultaneously. It was so intense that your moans were pitchy and whiny, hips canting as you got closer and closer. 

With a moan more like a sob, you came, the pleasure so intense you had to pull out the toy altogether. As soon as it was out, wetness sprayed from you, making a breathless moan slip past your lips. 

Your fingers rubbed at your clit, prolonging the orgasm and making your cunt gush and leave a puddle beneath you on the sheets. When you finally came down, it was with shaky breaths as your body trembled with aftershocks. 

You laughed weakly at the ridiculousness of the entire night up until that point, unable to move for a solid few minutes until the fog cleared from your mind and you reached over to turn off the toy. Your legs wobbled as you stood to clean yourself up and change the sheets.

Well, at least if you were going to get arrested for possession of obscene materials, you got the best orgasm of your life out of it. If only you hadn’t been thinking of him the entire time. 

——

By noon the following day, you hadn’t received any citation, or been walked out of the diner in handcuffs for your depravity. A quick Google search proved your suspicions that the obscenity ordinance was complete bullshit. Which, you know, made sense considering the sex shop and strip clubs within county lines. 

When Gator showed up in his regular booth towards the end of your shift, you did your best to ignore him. One of your coworkers brought him out his artery-clogging usual order, and you were mostly convinced that you might be able to slip out the back without even having to utter a word. 

And yet… Outside, Gator was leaning on your car, fucking around with your radio antenna absentmindedly. 

“Can I help you, Deputy?” You asked, arms crossed as you squinted against the sun. Your entire body was achy and you just wanted to get home.

He made a vague gesture towards the front bumper. “Headlight’s out.”

You glanced at the front of your car, which was mostly held together by zebra print duct tape and sheer force of will. “Yeah, well, some fuckin’ pervert told me I should save my money to pay for some citation he’s writing up for me.”

Gator grinned. “Oh yeah… I decided to let you off with a warning. For the assault too. My head fuckin’ hurts, you know.” You rolled your eyes, pushing him lightly so you could open your door. “Y’know, you’re being ungrateful. Why don’t you be a good girl and say, ‘Thank you, Gator.’”

You hated the way your heart raced just hearing those words coming from his mouth, but you pushed it down and pulled open the door. “Go fuck yourself, asshole.”

A smug smile spread across his lips. “That’s an interesting choice of words, isn’t it? Bet you had a real good night after I left, didn’t ya?” 

He was looking at you like he knew, which he couldn’t have, but he also definitely did. You made a face as you slammed the door shut and flipped him off through the cracked and peeling window tint. 

There was one bar in town that was a certified Gator-free zone. Apparently, he’d gotten into a nasty fight there, slammed a guy’s head into a pool table a few times, sent him to the ICU for a week. Most people don’t realize that the actual table part is made of a giant slab of slate, but a lot was learned that day.

You sat at the bar, eyes trained on the photo of Gator on the Do Not Serve bulletin board. He could be kind of handsome when he wanted to. In that picture he looked a little younger, a little more serious. Maybe a little softer if you really wanted to believe it (which you did). 

Maybe it was the fact that you had conned the guy beside you into buying you all your drinks (of which there had been plenty) or maybe it was the weird mood you’d been in for the past month, but you really wanted to just wash all of that gel out of his hair and wash his face and maybe buy him a pair of pants with the normal amount of pockets. 

“Did you hear what I said?” The guy sitting beside you— Noah? Nathan?— asked. 

You tore your gaze from the photo and turned to him, batting your eyes a few times for good measure. “Sorry, I think I’m just a little buzzed.” You smiled flirtatiously and nudged his arm with your own. “You were talking about… a trip to New York, right? Some sort of walking tour?”

He smiled, nodding enthusiastically before continuing, going on and on about things you were mostly half-listening to. He was smarter than most people you talked to, not surprising after you clocked the giant gold college ring on his hand. Mid-conversation, you grabbed his hand in yours and marveled at it, playing up how impressed you were just to make him feel important. 

His family is from around here, but he lived in Minneapolis. He was in town visiting while his mom was recovering from surgery. He showed you pictures of the cows on his mom’s land, of the view from his apartment, and of the dog that was waiting for him back at his mom’s place. He was sweet, which made you feel guilty for using him to forget all about Gator. 

“Do you want to maybe come back to mine?” You asked, playing at bashfulness. He nodded enthusiastically, looking like you’d just offered him a winning lottery ticket. 

In bed, he was generous and eager to please, making sure your needs had been taken care of before his pants were even off. You were so worked up and sensitive that you came twice from his mouth alone, not that he was even particularly that great with it. And then he was inside of you, and you came again, which probably gave him quite the ego. 

It had to be some kind of fluke. He was a sweet guy, but he wasn’t exactly a sex god.

But there you were, boneless and panting and flushed and sweaty as you both came down. He was red in the face, fumbling for his glasses so he could really see you.

He wanted to talk and stay up the rest of the night with you, which should’ve been nice. Really, you wanted to be excited. He even tried to ease you into his arms, hold you against him all nice and cozy.

You couldn’t fucking do it. 

“I’m just gonna grab some water, alright?” You said before hopping out of bed. Your robe was slung over the back of a papasan chair in the corner. You tied it loosely and made your way out of the bedroom. Needing space, and distance, and god, you didn’t even know.

A sane person would have turned back around, spent time with him, and gotten to know him better. Maybe even wake him up in the morning with coffee and pancakes, or a second round in the shower. But you just wanted to be alone.

The knock on your door shouldn’t have been surprising. You had been pretty loud, even louder than the previous night alone. You tied the robe a little tighter and went for the front door, opening it a crack. 

“Look, I’m sorry, I know we were l—“ You trailed off when you caught a glimpse of who was outside. “You’re kidding me.”

Gator stood on the porch, arms crossed and looking irritable. “Got a noise complaint,” he said, glancing between you and the house behind you. “You alone?”

“No,” you replied, crossing your arm. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

He scowled at that, and you recognized the way he was feeling almost immediately. Oh, he was jealous. A tiny laugh escaped you, which only served to piss him off more. 

“What’s so fuckin’ funny, huh?”

“Nothin’,” you replied with a shrug. “Is that all, deputy?”

He puffed on his vape and the sickeningly sweet smell of watermelon or cotton candy or whatever the fuck made your stomach turn. You gagged, mouth turning into a frown. “Do you have to blow that shit right in my face?”

“Nope,” he said while repeating the same action. The smell was overwhelming. You could almost feel alarm bells going off inside.  “Whatever. Better go on and send your fuck buddy back to whatever hole he crawled out of.”

In the back of your mind, you could hear Gator going on and on, talking about how he bet Noah (how did he know his name?) didn’t even make you cum, and that his dick was small, and he’s probably just some big city loser who comes out here for an easy fuck. But that was in the back of your mind. All you were focused on was the overwhelming smell of sugar as he fucking huffed his vape, and the sinking feeling in your gut. 

Nausea clawed up your throat, and a familiar feeling of panic settled over you. You clapped your hand over your mouth, but it was no use. The contents of your stomach spilled onto the floor as you vomited right onto Gator’s boots. 

He swore loudly and colorfully, stepping out of the puddle at his feet. You wiped at your mouth weakly, and you would’ve said something like I fucking told you so, but you just felt awful. 

“That’s so gross,” was all you could offer. “‘M sorry, Gator.”

And then you were crying your eyes out, and he was walking you inside so you could sit down, and that made you cry more. 

“Jesus, you’re moody, huh?” He asked, but the bite in his voice was nearly gone. “Stay here, alright? Before you make an even bigger mess.”

You sniffled and nodded. You saw Noah stepping into the living room, wearing his actual clothes again, which was a relief. You didn’t really want Gator seeing him naked. 

“Is everything okay?” He asked, taking a few steps forward. 

“I’m fine, I’m just embarrassed,” you said, voice croaky with tears. “I just got sick from the drinking, I think.”

There was a noise from the kitchen and Noah furrowed his brows. “You have a roommate?”

“No, he’s—“ you trailed off, unsure of what to say. “He was here to handle a noise complaint, and I kind of puked on his shoes.”

Gator walked into the room, then paused at the sight of Noah. His face furrowed in blatant judgment. He handed you a sprite, then went straight back to staring at Noah.

“Who’re you?” Gator asked, his arms crossed like a club bouncer. 

“I’m Nick.” Oh. Well, at least you were close.  

“You should head out, dick,” he said, standing taller, trying to appear more imposing than he really was. 

Noah glanced at you and hesitated until you gave a tiny nod. “I had a good time,” you offered. “Sorry about… all of this.”

He scribbled his phone number onto your grocery list by the door, offered a wave, and then headed out, leaving you and Gator alone. For better or worse. 

It was quiet as you sipped your sprite, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“Are you pregnant?” He asked suddenly. “And don’t fuckin’ lie.”

“What?”

“You’re acting all bipolar, and you're puking over my vape, and your tits look bigger.” You glanced down at your boobs with a frown. They did? 

“I’m not pregnant,” you replied defensively. “I got my period, like, right after we fucked.”

He shook his head. “I don’t believe you. You wanna know what I do believe?” You didn’t, but he was going to tell you. “That you pocketed the money for the Plan B, ‘cause you want to get pregnant and blackmail my family.”

You scoffed. “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”

His jaw ticked with annoyance as he looked down at you. “Take a test.”

“Whatever,” you said with a shrug. “I’ll buy one after my shift tomorrow if you’re so fuckin’ worried about it.”

He shook his head. “Fuck that,” he said while tapping away on his phone. “You’ll just lie about it. I’m doordashing this shit.”

You would’ve protested, but what was the point in that? You had nothing to hide— certainly not blackmail. The idea of purposely letting yourself get knocked up by Gator Tillman almost made you want to puke again.

You had finished your Sprite by the time the poor kid arrived, probably seventeen, with his face burning red as he handed Gator a bag from the twenty-four-hour convenience store. Gator slammed the door and dumped the contents of the bag on the coffee table. 

Two boxes of pregnancy tests, a monster energy drink, and a pack of cheese bugles.

You grabbed the boxes and trudged towards the bathroom attached to your room while Gator followed close behind. You went to shut the door, but he held it open. 

“No fuckin’ way,” he said firmly. “If I leave you’ll just fake it.”

You rolled your eyes, the irritability you felt close to reaching a boiling point. “I’m not pregnant! I don’t want to be pregnant, least of all with your fuckin’ kid!” 

When he didn’t move, and, to his credit, stayed completely stoic. You huffed and turned. “If you’re not gonna leave, you can be useful. Hand me one of the little cups beneath the sink. Next to the mouthwash.” He furrowed his brows, but obeyed. “I’m not pissing in front of you.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen worse.” You closed your eyes, doing your best to ignore him and just pee into the fucking cup. The whole situation was so infuriating that you just wanted to scream. Once your shy bladder got over itself, it was easy enough. Dip the tests in the cup, cap them again, lay them out and try to forget they’re there. 

You’d taken plenty over the course of your marriage— and you hoped for the same result then that you did before. 

“What’d it say?” Gator asked as you washed your hands. He was squinting down at the tests, trying to discern what was happening. 

“It’s not instant. You’ve gotta wait three minutes,” you said. After drying your hands, you looked at him again.

Really looked. He was all fidgety, a little pale. His lip was bleeding where he’d been biting at it. He was just as anxious as you were, but you doubted it was for the reason he was saying. 

“You kind of want one, don’t you?” You asked, meeting his gaze.

He scoffed. “No. I hate kids,” the words came out quickly, defensively. He was lying, and he was just as bad at it then as he was every time before. “Besides, what the fuck would I tell my dad if I knocked up a stripper?”

His words should’ve had some bite to them, but he just reminded you of a skittish animal lashing out at anything near it. You leaned against the doorframe and sighed. “You’re pushing thirty, Gator. Who fuckin’ cares what your dad thinks about you?” Gator rolled his eyes, because you just didn’t get it, or whatever. But you knew plenty about outrunning parents and the weight of expectations. About outrunning the weight of not being what they wanted.

You looked at him again, narrowing your eyes. “What do you really want, huh? Outside of making my life hell, terrorizing the town, and making your daddy proud?” You paused, but were met with silence. “If you’d just try to be a decent human being for once, you might find a nice girl who wants to be with you.”

“And that asshole you brought back here and fucked was decent, huh?”

“I think so, yeah,” you replied.

“And you’re gonna see him again? ‘Cause he’s so nice?”

“No, Gator, I’m not gonna see him again,” you said sharply. “I’m not, because he deserves better than a second night with someone who didn’t want to be around him.”

Before he could respond, the timer on your phone went off, louder in the tiled bathroom. Your hands fumbled as you turned it off, heart pounding with nerves. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, just look,” Gator said, clearly annoyed by your hesitance. You watched him flip them over, one by one, all reading the same result. 

Positive. Positive. Positive. Positive.

Gator squinted at the lines, then at the back of the box, a few times until it settled in. 

“Goddamn it!” He shouted, slamming a hand against the counter. You flinched, but couldn’t bring yourself to react further than that. “I told you to take a fucking Plan B, didn’t I?”

You swallowed hard, doing your best to remain calm. “You did, and I did. Maybe, if you didn’t want to knock me up, you should’ve pulled out like I told you.”

He rolled his eyes. “You know, it probably isn’t even mine,” he said, glaring in your direction. “You let that asshole from the bar cum in you tonight?”

Your cheeks burned hot. “You’re disgusting,” you sneered. “And, no. I don’t make a habit of letting guys fuck me raw.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, but you were so willing to give it up for me, huh?” He grabbed your arm, hard for the briefest second before his grip softened. “See, this is why I know you’re tryin’ to fuck my family over.”

You gave an exasperated groan and yanked your arm out of his grasp. “One, you didn’t pull out. Two, how exactly am I gonna blackmail your family if there’s no baby, you fucking idiot?”

His expression softened slightly as he considered your words. His brows furrowed in confusion, as he looked back at the tests. “Those are all positive, that means you’re pregnant.”

You gave a long exhale and met his gaze. “And it’s early enough that I can still have it taken care of. Maybe not in this fuckin’ state, but my car can still make a trip to Minnesota. Probably.”

He processed the words and the implications before shaking his head. “No.”

You raised a brow, taken off-guard by that single word. “I’m sorry?”

He shook his head. “I said no. You’re not doin’ it.”

You scoffed incredulously, blinking away your confusion. “Five seconds ago you wanted to punch through my drywall because you thought you were being blackmailed. Now you suddenly care about the sanctity of life? Give me a break. You nearly beat that guy to death in front of me at the club, and from what I’ve heard, you’ve done worse than that.”

”It’s different,” he argued, annoyed that you called out his hypocrisy.  “It’s mine, so I should have some sort of say.”

You swallowed hard, staring at the curtains near the window so you could avoid his eyes. “Exactly. It’s yours. I don’t want to have your baby, Gator. I don’t want to bring another goddamn Tillman into the world.”

He had you pressed against the wall before you even had a second to realize he was moving. Your head knocked against the drywall, making you yelp. One hand was wrapped around your throat, keeping you pinned to the wall with a light amount of force. “I could stop you,” he finally said. “I mean… really stop you. Make it so you can’t leave. Could keep you at the ranch, make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t, because that would mean involving his father. Knocking up a stripper doesn’t exactly give men like his father warm and fuzzy feelings. 

When you swallowed, your throat bobbed against the palm of his hand. Your eyes trailed up, landing on his as your breathing came out in pants. 

His mouth was on yours suddenly, claiming you with a searing kiss. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, making you moan.

He’d never kissed you before, not once. You hadn’t even thought he’d want to. But there he was, groaning into your mouth as he made out with you.

“Gator—“ you gasped as he ground against you, already rock hard without any real coaxing. He shut you up with another kiss, hungry and messy. 

You got the message— no more talking about that. He pulled the tie of the robe you wore and it fell onto the ground in a pile, leaving you completely bare. 

He pulled back from the kiss, eyes raking over your body hungrily. Big hands traced over your skin, making you shiver. A gasp escaped you as he squeezed your tits. 

“They really are bigger,” he said with a wry laugh.

“Shut up,” you snapped, head knocking against the wall as you tossed it back. 

“You’ve got a bad fuckin’ attitude. But I can fix that.” One of his hands moved down your body, cupping your cunt, fingers dipping into the pool of your arousal. “You get this soaked for that asshole?”

You whimpered as his fingertips teased your entrance, just shy of everywhere you needed him. Just shy of slipping inside, purposely avoiding your clit. He locked eyes with you, his gaze intense. 

“Don’t be shy, you can tell the truth,” he said,  continuing to tease with featherlight touches. You could feel just how wet you were getting— dripping embarrassingly down your thighs. 

“Only ‘cause I thought about you,” you admitted. A sly grin spread across your face. You’d never let him have an easy win. “You’d probably be one of the best fucks I ever had if you bothered to make me cum.”

“Don’t fuckin’ piss me off,” he said with an eye roll. He thrust his middle finger inside of you, and you moaned softly. “Such a goddamn liar.”

He was a little more gentle with you, despite, well, everything. Warming you up with one finger before adding a second. Moans fell from your lips as he curled them just right, the cocky expression he wore told you he was dead set on proving that he really was top-ten material. 

His thumb brushed against your clit, making your legs tremble. You couldn’t help but clench around his fingers, your entire body overwhelmed with need. Maybe it was hormones, or maybe it was all the tension between you, but your entire body was aching for him. 

“Close,” you gasped out. Your open, panting mouth was like an invitation. He kissed you deeply, his tongue licking into your mouth as he continued fucking you with his fingers. When he pulled back, his eyes locked with yours. 

“That’s it,” he practically cooed. “C’mon, give it to me.” You moaned, walls clenching around his fingers as you grew closer and closer to the edge. He tried to pull his hand from between your thighs, but you grabbed his wrist and shook your head. 

“Gator, don’t fuckin’ stop until I tell you to.” His cheeks went pink, eyes flashing with something unfamiliar. 

Your moans grew pitchy as you got closer, hips canting against his fingers, shoulders digging into the wall as your back arched off of it. 

You barely had time to gasp out a feeble, “‘m cumming!” Before your climax hit.

Broken moans escaped you as pleasure radiated through you. His fingers kept their pace, and every brush of his thumb on your clit made spots dance across your vision. When you were finally spent, you had to tap his wrist weakly. “Okay, that’s enough,” you managed. 

He was coated down to his wrist with sticky arousal, which made you look away with heat burning in your cheeks, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

He grabbed your jaw and turned your face back to look at him, wearing a smug expression. “Don’t act all shy now. Tell me you want more.” Bold of him to assume he could make you cum again. But you nodded anyway. You’d like to see him try, at least. 

“I want more,” you said, even though it killed you to just give in so easily. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip, before he pressed a little more and breached the pouty seal of your lips. 

“Yeah? Your friend didn’t wear you out before this?” He asked, his voice dripping with a false sense of concern. He pushed his thumb a little deeper, pressing down on your tongue while you sucked on it. You had a pretty good sense of what he was getting at, but a hot need was bubbling up in your stomach and you couldn’t deny yourself any longer. “I’m just saying, sweetheart. Takin’ two cocks in one night is… well, it’s pretty fuckin’ slutty.”

At his words, you bit down on his thumb until he withdrew it with an annoyed huff. “You wanna leave?” You asked, raising a brow. He shook his head. You stepped around him, settling in the middle of the bed. “Take your clothes off then.”

He was quick to undress, clumsy in his haste. His vest knocked against the wall and sent a picture frame tumbling off its hook. He stripped off piece after piece in a sort of never-ending Russian doll until he was finally naked and standing there waiting for you to compliment him, or something. 

You took in the sight of him hungrily, and the hormonal neediness of it all made you want him more than you had before. “You’ll do,” was all you said, smirking as he pinned you down against the mattress.

“You’re such a bitch,” he said, but there wasn’t any real malice in his tone. Actually, you were pretty sure he liked it about you. You spread your legs to accommodate him, shivering as he rocked his hips just so and let the head of his cock brush against your folds. “But you want me so bad, huh? Just need me to fuck that attitude out of you, don’t you?”

You whimpered when he pressed himself against your center, only letting the tip slip inside briefly before pulling back out. He raised a brow, wanting to hear you beg.

”Gator, if you don’t get inside me, I’ll call Nick to finish the job.”

You would have laughed at how quickly he buried himself within you after that if the force of it hadn’t punched the air from your lungs. His pace was brutal, and the sound of his hips slapping against the plush of your thighs with each rough thrust made sheepishness settle warm in your chest.

“You act like— fuck— like you don’t want me, but I don’t think this pussy got that memo.” A smirk played at his lips as he railed into you, soft grunts punctuating each thrust in. You wrapped your legs around him, pressing with your heels to encourage him deeper. 

He was such a self-assured asshole, but, fuck, if that didn’t turn you on. He had one of your hands pinned to the bed, fingers tangled with yours. 

“Go ahead and touch yourself,” Gator instructed. 

He didn’t have to tell you twice. As soon as the words passed his lips, you moved your free hand between your thighs to circle your clit. The feeling was damn near euphoric. Breathy moans fell from your lips as your head fell back against the pillows.

And Gator was fucking eating it up. 

“That feel good, huh?” His voice was breathy; his words were punctuated with moans and fucked-out pants. “Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight, sweetheart. You’re really lovin’ this, huh? Bet you wanna be stuffed full of this cock every day. Coulda had this again a lot sooner if ya weren’t such a bitch all of the time.”

You could feel yourself reaching your finish, but you couldn’t find the words to tell him. Each moan slipping past your lips was even more debauched than the last as he buried himself inside your needy cunt. 

“It’s too much, huh?” He asked, fucking you with a relentless need to cum. With each thrust his cock kissed your cervix. “You can take it, can’t you? Made just to take this cock inside your needy little pussy.”

Your eyes rolled back as your walls clamped around him, your finish so close you could have sobbed with relief. You came with a cry of his name, which would have been mortifying, had you been in a mindset to retain your pride. 

“F-Fuck—“ He cried out, his hips stuttering. “Holy fuckin’ shit— gonna cum— fuck—“ He buried himself in you with one final, rough thrust before he went still, collapsing atop you with his full body weight. 

He laid there, panting hot breath against your neck until he came back to his senses. He gave one final wet kiss to your throat before rolling over with a pleased sigh.

“You finally know what it feels like,” you mused, staring up at the ceiling. 

Gator furrowed his brows as he turned to look at you. “I’ve fucked you before, it’s nothin’ special this time.” 

Gee, thanks. “I meant you finally know what it feels like for a girl to cum while you’re inside her.” You grinned as you watched annoyance twist his features. He rolled his eyes with a huff, but didn’t seem too pissed off at your jab. 

It was contentedly quiet until you remembered the pregnancy tests sitting on the counter just one room over. Your stomach twisted with guilt as you looked over at him, his hair a little messy, cheeks flushed from exertion.

It would’ve been nice if things were different.

“I’m moving,” you said finally. “Back to Texas, I think. Maybe even somewhere new. As soon as I’ve saved enough for a down payment.”

Gator turned quickly, anger making his brows furrow. “Leaving?”

You swallowed hard. “I’m getting out of Lehigh, and I think you should too. This place is poison. You know that.”

You watched him swallow, jaw ticking as he stayed quiet. You let the quiet linger in the air, nearly choking on it before he finally spoke. “This is where I belong.”

You nodded and said nothing else. When you woke up in the morning, his arms were around you, and he was drooling into the junction of your shoulder. His hand, flat on your tummy, almost made you yearn for that picture-perfect Tillman family, the one he thought he wanted so badly.

You couldn’t bring yourself to wake him up. When he left, he didn’t say a thing. It felt definite.

[maryangelex]

Never Let Me Go (Pt. 6)

John Price x f!Reader

Summary: the next morning with Price settles you're his girl

warnings/tags: nsfw!!, creampie, praising, handjob, p in v sex, fingering, cowgirl

a/n: it's finally here!!! im sorry for the wait!! and this will be the last chapter of this series :,) i feel like there isn't more to say for john and this reader, so i hope you lot enjoyed it!!

song for this chapter is She by Harry Styles!!

You woke up the next morning with an unfamiliar warmth next to you. The feeling of a solid mass pressing against your back; a large appendage that resembled an arm draped over your waist. Your eyes adjusted to the sunlight that penetrated through the curtains on your window.

You brought a hand to your face and rubbed at your eyes before looking down to find a man’s arm was what was anchoring you in your sleeping position. John’s arm, you reckoned, and the color of your cheeks was a stinging red. You bit your lip to withhold the smile that grew on your face as the memories of last night flooded back into your mind.

It was difficult to contain yourself from squealing giddily at the realization.

With as much care as you could muster, you gently and slowly rotated your body under the crushing weight of his arm to face him. John stirred in his sleep lightly, making you freeze and hold your breath for a second. But he only sighed and stayed in his peaceful sleep, out like a light. You turned fully to face him, your eyes gleaming at the sight of his face.

His lips were in a pout, slightly parted as light snores escaped them. His lashes were long and fanning over the apples of his cheeks almost. You’ve never seen someone look…so pretty, while they slept.

One of your hands came up to his face, your gentle fingertips dared to ghost over his features. You carefully brushed the messy hair on his forehead, then trailed down to trace his long nose, his bearded cheeks, his velvety lips.

Would it be wrong to kiss him, you wondered. You didn’t want to disrupt his slumber, you liked the intimacy of being bundled up in his arms as he was in such a vulnerable state. But you dared to regardless. Once again with the gentlest movements, you planted your lips over his cheek. You took a beat to test if that woke him up, but all you got in return was the tightening of his grip on your waist.

It only encouraged you further, and you followed with another kiss, this time to his forehead, your hand caressing his hair once more. He stirred a bit more and your smile grew wider, your heart was fluttering with adoration.

God he’s just perfect, all you want to do is kiss every pretty thing about him.

You went to lean in a third time but a gravelly hum stopped you on your tracks. John’s eyes stayed closed, but a smile tugged at his cheeks and a husky chuckle rumbled within him. His arms encapsulated you impossible tighter and closer to him.

“I could get used to wakin’ up like this,” he said, his voice raspy with sleep and almost a whisper.

You giggled and matched his low tone, “morning, John.”

He adjusted his head on the pillow and let out a pleased sigh. One of his eyes opened up to a mere squint to look at you, the rays of sun making his crystal eyes shine. He grumbled out a good morning

You cupped his cheek, your thumb caressing his skin. His large palm rubbed the skin of your bare back, making goosebumps scatter around your body.

Your front was pressed flush against his chest and abdomen and, well, you shouldn’t be surprised at the feeling of his morning wood pressing against your belly. You bit your lip at the sensation, feeling your core grow slick.

John chuckled again, “Sorry, love…can’t help it.” His voice was a slur as he gradually began to wake him more and more.

“Don’t mind at all,” you cooed. You felt bold enough to snake your hand down his front until it reached his pelvis. You stopped there, and your fingers raked through the patch of course hair that was forested there.

John let out a pleasant, heavy sigh. His member twitched against you, as if asking to be touched.

Your eyes were fixated on his face, watching the microexpressions as he reacted to your touch.

“About last night…” you started, “is that something you’d like to do again?”

John’s smile grew into a smirk, his nails ran up and down your back tenderly, “would you, princess?”

You responded by letting your hand trail lower; dainty fingers wrapping around the base of his hardened cock and giving him one, two painfully slow pumps.

John sucked in a breath at the feeling, a hand now coming under your hair to hold the nape of your neck.

“Does that answer your question?” you teased.

"Bloody hell, love," he breathed, his husky voice almost a growl as the grip on your neck tightened, "what I wouldn't give to wake up to you like this every mornin'."

His words made you melt. The idea of having John like this, the realization that last night was most definitely not a one-time thing, and that you had a man like him eating off the palm of your hand; all yours to enjoy.

It only spurred you on, and you let out a soft mewl in response as your hand stroked up and down his shaft, watching as his lips parted and hearing his breath hitch at the feeling of you.

John's other hand snaked down to your thigh, grabbing the underside of it to lay it over his hip. He pulled you closer as you worked on him, his nose pressing against yours before he leaned in to kiss you. You felt the hairs of his mustache graze your upper lip, his plush lips against yours turning into a sloppy kiss when his tongue pried into your mouth. Now you knew he was growing desperate.

The hand on your thigh traveled up your quad, squeezing and massaging it before it made its way to your sex. You were soaked and bare and the feeling of his hand soothingly massaging you through your folds made your whole body shiver.

It made you think about the night prior, how John had been the first man to make you feel this good, this satisfied. Like the strange loneliness you had felt when you first met him was completely gone; like he's been the missing piece in your sweet but mundane life. The man set you alight like a burning pyre whenever he was around, more so when he put those tender but calloused hands on you.

You keened at the feeling of his middle and ring finger pads rubbing tight circles on your clit, spreading your slick and coating your pussy with it. Your hand on his cock similarly smeared his precum, and the two of you panted into each other's mouths.

You let out soft sounds as he kissed you sloppily, a mess of tongue and teeth telling you just how desperate John was for you.

"Never felt such a perfect pussy," he slurred, "come 'n ride my cock, pretty girl."

His breathless words made you whine, and you did not hesitate to press your hand against his chest, indicating him to lay on his back as you straddled his lap.

Any ounce of self-consciousness or shyness was absent in you. You presented your naked body to John, the body he had ravaged multiple times by now. Your hips ground onto his, making his cock glide between your folds as you teased him before granting him entrance.

It made John let out a needy groan, his hands holding onto the plump flesh on your hips as he guided your hips to grind with more pressure on his leaking cock.

"C'mon, sweetheart...stuff this cock in that pretty pussy...'s all yours, do whatever you want with it." You never thought you'd make John so desperate, but you couldn't deny you desired his cock just as much.

You lifted your hips and took hold of his cock, aligning it with your entrance before you slowly sank down on it. Your mouth fell open and so did his as he watched you with lust-blown eyes, how your pussy swallowed him whole.

It made John let out a moan and fuck it did something to you.

"Fuckkk, baby, tha's it," he looked up at your face with shameless want.

You bottomed out, sitting on his cock for a moment before lifting yourself only to sink back down, bouncing on him at a selfish pace.

You indulged in the way his lips were parted and exuded moans, how his hands stroked up and down your sides and curves tenderly as your hips bounced on his cock and ground down into his hips.

How his blue eyes devoured you and the way you moved.

Those starved eyes had been on you since the moment he stepped through the doors of your cafe, and they only grew hungrier the more you spoke, the more time you spent together.

And fuck were you proud of yourself for having this man under you, cock buried deep inside of you and letting you fuck him; letting himself belong to you, never to let you go.

Your pace grew sloppier and desperate as you fucked yourself with his cock, and John wouldn't have it any other way. His hand scaled up your body and splayed on the valley between your breasts, feeling the way your heart raced. Your head was thrown back as you lost yourself in him.

"That's it, baby, that's it," he babbled, "makin' me feel so good, love. Perfect fuckin' pussy made just for me, yeah?"

You nodded drunkenly in response, feeling his hips move under you to meet your rhythm. You took his hands in yours and laced your fingers with his, using his hold to increase your pace and reach your climax.

All you heard were John's mumbled praises and encouragements, too drunk on your pussy to be coherent. The two of you were pushing for each other's orgasms until it was finally there.

Both letting go in tandem, feeling the wave of pleasure wash over you, and feeling the way he stuffed you full.

You were both breathless, your sweat-coated body collapsing over John's, who took you in his arms with a husky chuckle of his, wrapping them around you and kissing your temple and burning cheeks.

"My perfect girl," he crooned, and you responded with a pleasant, tired hum as you melted in his embrace.

His girl, you thought. Yeah, you were his and it couldn't feel more perfect to be his.

You relished in the way he kissed your skin, the praises he whispered to you, and the way he whispered that he couldn't be more in love with you.

[toodelusionalforreality]

Arsonist

Azriel x Reader(N)

Summary: With time Azriel's feelings grow and become clearer. He struggles with the dilemma of revealing the bond to his lover and leaving it upto fate.

A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. I've read this so many times for edits and I'm not even sure if it's any good. I appreciate all the love for Absolution, and this one offers a glimpse to their relationship in the past.

@theflowerswillbloom for you, love. Hope you enjoy.

Word count: ~5k

Warning: 18+ NSFW, intimacy+angst+smut, f!pleasures, p in v. [too many he/she/names??]

Documenting, filing, and cataloguing—the simplest of tasks for a seasoned Spymaster—should have taken no more than a few hours at best. And yet, Azriel glared at the stacks of paperwork sitting on his desk. As soon as he arrived home, he set out to clear them in hopes of sneaking out before any of his brothers pestered him about his recent disappearances, not that his affair was a secret. Half a day later, there he was in his gloomy office with nerves on edge. 

A simple mission of surveillance had turned into a hunt of hostile outliers along the southern borders, stealing weeks from him. Luckily, he hadn’t promised N an early return. He felt guilty nonetheless for leaving her with no word.

A sadistic part of his heart wondered if she cared about him—lying awake in bed, listening for footsteps on her stairs, or rushing home to see if he was waiting for her.

Once, he returned from a similar mission earlier than expected and let his shadows stalk her for two days to see how she spent the days without him. That night, Azriel decided he was a twisted man.

Sometime after noon, he accepted his fate. He had half a mind to fling the papers into Sidra and run to N’s smithy to surprise her. How childish of him. A grown man excited to watch his lover’s face break into a kaleidoscope of emotions. N wouldn’t run into his arms, he knew, like the romantics fantasised. She was not a woman of such calibre. 

N embraced every fleeting moment with a nonchalance that bordered on lethargy. And it seeped into their relationship as well. She loved him simply—with her generous compliments, intentional touches, and domestic ease around him. She always had a smile for him. Her hands always found his hair or cheek when they lay in bed together. Sometimes, they ventured as far as his scarred ones, brought them to her lips that delivered the faintest of kisses before she drifted to sleep. Her words were nothing but genuine and certain. 

Azriel could vividly see the expression on her face if he materialised before her. She would look at him with sincere eyes, bright as the morning sun, and the corners of her lips would tug into a smile. ‘So how long do I get to keep you this time?’ she would tease.

Maybe, Azriel thought, that is enough.

Knowing she missed him dearly enough to mock his departure every time. But she also kissed him every time, she held him to her chest every time, and she looked him in the eye when they made love every time.

A cool shade fell over the room. His eyes strained to find the lines and curves he marked in black. Sweat trickled from behind his ears. Gone was the unforgiving sun crisping anything that dared set foot on the ground. With a roar of thunder that shook every stone in the walls, rains poured down. N. Azriel gathered the papers away in no order and left for the one place he knew her to be. 

Standing in front of the locked doors, he felt like a fool. The rain beat down on his leathers, mocking him. The heat from the forge radiated out of the grilled window. She was there and had left not long ago.

What did he come here for? To protect her from a rain? Or did his heart latch onto the only viable excuse presented to him at the moment? Yes, he thought, that must be it.

Azriel headed down the path to her home at the centre of the square, a long walk from her shop on the outskirts of the town. I like to work in the quiet, she had said, imagine how tempting it must be when someone’s bothering you and you have molten iron in your hands. He knew she could fight, but the last thing he suspected of his delicate lover was making tools of death and destruction. 

He hurried, short of sprinting, to catch her before she was soaked like a street rat, cold and wet. He let out an amused chuckle looking down at his own leathers. The things the woman made him worry about.

N had left earlier than usual. The way she moved, she should be home. But when Azriel’s steps faltered along the wet roads, he wasn't sure.

The streets were bare except for the few still seeking shelter from nature’s onslaught. Save for the stark silhouette of buildings and blobs of life that swished and slashed through, nothing could be seen past the wavering white veil.

A lone figure caught his eye. Edging along the walls, it braved the storm—an arm pressed to the forehead, another around the torso, shoulders hunched forward and face averted.

She looked worse than a drenched rat. Her clothes clung to her, too light to protect her from the prick of rain. The satchel across her body sagged and sagged, the seams threatening to burst at the bottom, pulling her down with it.

Azriel cursed himself. He closed the distance between them in quick strides and stretched a wing over her head. It didn’t offer much protection, but it allowed her to look up at the godsend cover and face him with a knowing smile.

The space between her brows furrowed and her eyes crinkled at the corners. Drops of water tugged at her eyelashes for mere seconds before making their descent down her pale cheeks. Her braid turned into a tangled mess, tendrils sticking to anything in their path like claws curling into her skin.

‘Want me to take you home?’

She nodded once, without hesitation, without a thought. He smiled and took her in his arms. She was shaking. Azriel preferred flying above the clouds, but he decided against it.

Between ‌her two broken breaths, his shadows dropped them on the landing in front of her house. N clutched his arms as her feet steadied under her. Letting go of him, she removed her satchel. Her arms strained under its weight. It hit the floor with heavy, contesting clanks. Probably leftovers of her day’s work that she couldn’t leave behind unfinished, even in her hurry. 

‘When did you return?’ She asked, removing her muddied boots. The leather fought worse than her bag. 

Azriel followed her cue and removed his own filthy one. ‘This morning.’ As he took off his other boot, N unbuttoned her pants. He lifted a brow. 

She chuckled, her lips trembling from the cold. ‘I’d hate to clean the house in this weather. Take your clothes off too.’ 

He gave her a dirty grin before he looked over his shoulder. The staircase behind him led to the bar downstairs. He didn’t care to be seen naked. But N? She was only for his eyes. He adjusted his wings to span the width of the narrow space, hiding her from any intruders’ view.

‘No one comes up here at this hour,’ she said as she moved on to her shirt and the tunic underneath. Her legs gave a tremor even with his warmth next to her. 

Just an inch of her bare skin made Azriel’s mouth water. And she stood there in her underwear. Mother, how much he missed her. His eyes wandered over her body—pale, cold, wet—unabashed as he undressed and tossed his clothes next to hers.

N shook her head, a faint smile on her lips. She opened the door to her one-room apartment, undoing her braid. He held on to her hips and trailed her, planting kisses on her shoulder. Her hand found his as she led him into the bathroom. It was bright, unlike his own, white and pristine. It was spacious but not enough for him, for his wings. And yet, Azriel followed her without a complaint, like a starved dog catching the scent of food after days of hunger.

Hot water hit their naked bodies. He traced his rough, scarred hands along her skin. Firm, littered with healed cuts and white scar tissue, still the softest he ever had the pleasure to touch. N shoved his hands away as she lathered herself, only to laugh when they found her again. Azriel didn’t mind that he tasted more soap than her skin on his lips with each kiss. Gods, was he desperate. 

Usually, she queried him about his day, or why he took so long. Or made a crude comment about how much she needed him only to hear him growl with desire. That day, she smiled and cleaned them both in silence with no words to distract him from her soothing touch. A proper tease.

When he wrapped his arms around her stomach and tugged her against his chest, she smacked at him. His wings flared, sending bottles off the shelf nailed to the wall. His shadows caught them before they hit the bathtub on the other side of the room.

‘Stop it,’ she giggled, soft and sweet. ‘You’re wrecking the place.’

Azriel buried his nose into her hair. Covered in soap, he still smelled her past the fragrance of jasmine. Sharp and clear, with a hint of melting iron. ‘I’ll buy you a new place.’

She laughed. A full, open laugh that shook her body. Azriel smiled. His heart tightened in his chest.

The bond was meant to tie him to her, draw him to her. He was prepared for the craving for her body, the lust that devoured him. But this was deeper. This ran in his very soul—taking his breath away unless it was the same air she breathed.

N turned around and pushed him a step back. ‘A minute, Azriel. Give me one minute,’ she said through her little laughs. She stood under the shower, tipped her head back, closing her eyes.

She didn’t understand it. She wouldn’t know his need for her unless she felt it too. She loved him though. She never said those words. But he saw the signs. In the looks she gave him, in her smiles, in the way she cared for him sometimes after long missions.

Azriel waited for the bond to piece together for her. Eighteen months. And he hadn’t told her about his torment either. It was his to bear for the time being.

He held his breath and watched the heat bring colour back to her skin, her cheeks coming alive—supple and flush. Her hair shone brighter. Her body stopped shivering and yet she draped her arms below her ribs. 

Divinely simple and utterly bare only for him.

‘Your minute’s up,’ he whispered and stepped up to her, his hands on her hips.

She opened her eyes. ‘Hi.’ She smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

Finally.

She pulled him close by his elbows. Water ran down his back and wings. She turned them around and backed away. Azriel blinked. Her laughs filled the room. N stood by the door and dried her hair. 

‘You tricked me,’ was all he said. His hands were immobile by his side, too shocked by what she had done, by what he hadn’t noticed. He was a spy, for Mother’s sake.

‘I asked you nicely.’ She patted down her body, her teasing eyes on him. ‘Now get done quick. Or do you want to stand there all night?’ And she walked out.

Azriel narrowed his eyes at her form disappearing beyond the threshold. His wings twitched, and he rolled his shoulders. He was quick, alright. He turned off the water and was out and on her in a blink. N let out a yelp when her back collided with his dripping chest. Azriel sucked on her—her neck, her shoulders, her arms. He didn’t care. As long as he had her warmth and taste. 

‘Fine, I’m sorry.’ Another laugh escaped her lips as she struggled to break free of his hold. 

Crazed like an addict taking his first hit after withdrawal, Azriel gasped against her skin. ‘Only because you asked so nicely.’ He loosened his grip. 

N faced him. She held the towel to his body—drying his neck, chest, arms, and back—slowly leading him to her bed. She left his wings untouched. She took her time while Azriel peppered pecks on her face. Anything to quench his thirst. 

‘Do you care so much for me?’ He smiled into a kiss he left on her ear. Her attention made his heart flutter.

She grinned, ‘Gods no, I don’t want you to ruin my bed.’ 

‘Your bed gets ruined every time I’m here,’ he said, teasing the shell of her ear with his tongue. A shiver went down her spine, and Azriel basked in the scent that filled the room. Her scent. The one that cried out for him, desperate and needy as him.

N tamed her face, wearing the mask of a woman who had an agenda. She pushed him back and he fell onto the mattress. She moved between his legs, a knee perched at the edge of the bed, and caressed his cheek. Her eyes were soft and caring.

He wished for nothing more than to stare into them all his life. One look at them and every moment in his life he felt unloved and unworthy was erased from his being.

His wet hair stuck to his forehead, their tips scratching at his eyelids. N brought the towel to his head. She was as gentle as ever, but Azriel couldn’t waste a second without gazing at that beautiful face of hers. He shook out of her hold, ducking his head and turning. 

‘Stop acting like a child,’ she laughed.

He grunted, ‘You’re smothering me,’ but it sounded like a whine to his ears.

‘Then stop moving!’

With a sigh, he gave up. Gods, what he wouldn’t do for her. He sat still and N allowed him the mercy to look at her. He rested his hands on her thighs, rubbing circles with his thumbs. He couldn’t help the sighs that left his lips every minute. He smiled up at her, capturing every feature on her face with the eyes of a devotee graced upon by his benevolent god. 

When N deemed him less of a sodden pup, she ran her fingers through his damp hair. She untangled each strand carefully, tugged them away from his eyes, and let them fall in their natural disarray. Her nails raked through his scalp, from his hairline to the base of his neck.

Azriel purred under her fingers. It took everything in his body not to fight against her ministrations and crush her body against his. His wings fluttered.

N looked at them and back into his eyes. Azriel nodded, his wings opening into a spread close to his body, close enough for her to reach. Droplets littered the membrane, too light to slide off under gravity. She barely touched the towel to his wing, and it twitched. She waited for a breath and tried again. This time, it held still. She repeated her movements, each time more careful than the last, from one spot to the next as gingerly as possible. 

Azriel closed his eyes. His hands smoothed over her waist, his fingers digging into her tender flesh, and pulled her close. Warmth from her body hit his face. He leaned forward, resting his forehead between her breasts. He felt her heart beat under her skin. Steady, lulling. 

That’s when he realised. It wasn’t lust that drew him to her or his bond. It was her—the solace she promised—a world far away from the treacherous reality he endured in his job, away from the nightmares of his past that haunted him, away from the loud and rush of this unjust one. 

With her, he could be still. 

With her, he could breathe. 

With her, he could just be.

She froze every minute he spent with her, entrapping him in her delicately spun cocoon of comfort. She didn’t need her words, her touch or her body. She breathed and tension in his body and soul melted away. The ghosts that followed him around faded into nothingness. Every pain in his mind, forgotten. 

She offered him life. Ecstasy at its purest.

The fabric that separated her from his wings was gone, discarded. Her fingertips grazed the outer curve of his wing. Azriel buried his face into her chest. If she allowed, he would crawl into her soul and stay there in its protection, in its everlasting, glowing warmth. He wanted nothing more than her in his life. He feathered his lips over her sternum. His wings wound around them, begging for more. He tugged her closer and pressed a kiss to her heart. The one he yearned to possess. 

N settled on his lap. Her delicate body pressed against his desperate one. Azriel looked up. With a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose, she nudged him out of his swarming thoughts.

‘You’re a handful, you know that? You don’t make it easy to care for you.’

He smiled. ‘I missed you.’ He smiled a lot around her as if she drew each one out from the very depths of him.

Mischief sparkled in her eyes. She rolled her hips against his, ‘Oh, I can feel that.’

Azriel groaned and eventually laughed. ‘You’re naked in my arms. And you’re touching my wings. Can you blame me?’ His eyes darkened when she moved her hips again. ‘Kiss me. Now,’ he growled.

And for the first time that day, N obliged. She kissed him long and slow. Her lips were soft, plush, and pulsing with life. Her breaths warmed his skin. She pushed her body into his, and for the first time that day, she set her desires free. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her fingers laced together on the back of his neck, pulling him close. She leaned back when he dipped and chased him when he pulled back. It was a dance she was a master at, syncing to his body’s rhythm as if she knew it better than him. 

Azriel adored her tender love, but he needed more. He grabbed her damp hair into a fist. N whimpered into his mouth and he swallowed it whole. He was determined to lay claim to every inch of her soul if that’s what it took to make her his. He tugged her hair, and she arched her back with a long moan. He ran his teeth along her beautiful neck she offered for his taking. Her hands only pulled him closer. 

His mate. His willing prey.

N wrapped her legs around his waist. Azriel crawled deeper into the bed and laid her down gently. He pulled back to admire her one more time, stroking her cheek as she smiled. He pecked her lips once and flipped her onto her stomach ripping a choked gasp from her.

‘Trust me?’ He breathed against her ear.

She nodded. He kissed the side of her neck, her shoulder, and all the way down her back, enjoying every shiver that rattled her to the core. He sank his teeth into her waist just to make her yelp and glare over her shoulder. When he soothed the spot with a lick, she rolled her eyes smiling. He kissed all the way up until he found her lips again. His body relaxed against hers with careful pressure. He sighed.

‘I missed you,’ he murmured below her ear. 

Doubt crept into his pathetic heart every time she eluded his words. Once in a while her feelings crept over the string between their hearts like a spider, too little a thing for him to notice, but present nonetheless. Invisible and lurking, and always out of his reach. With the bond in place for him already, though he should have been able to feel her emotions, he barely did.

He needed to hear her words. He needed her to say those words and some more.

‘Then what are you waiting for?’ She asked, as breathless as he.

Azriel chuckled darkly, ‘Tell me you missed me.’ His shadows emerged for the play. They swept her hair aside for their master to suckle on her neck.

‘I’ll show you if you stop teasing.’

The seduction in her voice alone tempted Azriel to destroy her until she was a mess for him, whimpering and declaring her love for him.

He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her face close. ‘Words first,’ he growled as his other hand closed on her breast. A thumb ghosted over her nipple before he pinched it between his fingers.

N looked over her shoulder, her eyes dark and wide. ‘I missed you,’ she kissed the corner of his lips, sucking on the skin she could reach. Azriel eased his grip and then she spoke again, ‘So much that I was dreaming of your fingers every night.’

Azriel laughed. His body shook over hers, the sound reverberating through her being. ‘Such a tease,’ he closed his eyes and nuzzled into the side of her face, ‘You sure do know how to get your way.’

He slipped his fingers between her legs and hummed as he ran a digit along her slit. N held her breath, her hands clawing at the sheets. He caressed the inside of her thigh until she whined. When he tucked his hand under her leg and pulled it aside, N gasped at the cold air’s kiss on her wet core.

Azriel breathed in her scent—a fresh, sharp, intoxicating sweetness that ensnared his senses right before she stole pieces of his soul. He teased her entrance with his fingers, her lips smooth and slick against his scarred skin. When he slipped them inside, her breaths shuddered into broken mists.

He worked her with slow and deliberate strokes, for his own sanity than hers. He etched every groove and bend of his favourite maze into his memory. He kissed her lips as he pulled his fingers out and spread her slick onto his neglected cock. The moan that tore from his throat was one he would be embarrassed for life. But her mesmerised eyes on his lips erased any notion of it.

He grabbed her hip and entered her slowly as she welcomed him with a sigh. He stayed still, listening to her stuttering breaths against the echoes of rain.

So intimate, so real. 

N laced her fingers with his on her hip. ‘I missed this,’ she whispered.

This.

Not 'you'.

Ignoring the stab in his chest, Azriel grasped her hands in each of his and tucked them under her chin. He pulled out until the very tip and drove back in. Her moan pierced through the cries of the storm. He repeated his movements, sliding out with care and sliding in with fury. His breaths turned into groans, angry and beastly. He bit into her neck, her shoulder, between her blades to stop more desperate words from spilling out.

N touched his knuckles with her lips. She covered his hand with kisses, from his wrist to fingertips, worshipping every inch of his marred hand. She let her tongue slick over a particularly ragged part of his skin whose mere sight blurred his vision with vengeance for what he had endured. 

Azriel pinched his eyes shut. Letting go of her hand, he clutched her jaw. ‘Don’t,’ he hissed.

Foolish woman. She leaned into his hand as if it wasn't that of a killer, as if it wasn’t capable of offering nothing but a sweet embrace. She carded her fingers through his hair, cradling his face close. And brushed her lips over the length of the fingers that ghosted over them.

‘Azriel,’ she uttered his name as if it soothed her. As if she had been waiting for this moment just like him.

His hip bucked. ‘Say it again, say my name.’ 

‘Azriel.’

‘Again,’ he said against her skin, his voice coated in desperation.

‘Azriel.’ 

And she chanted his name with each breath.

His thrusts faltered. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair. He wasn’t a worthy contender for her vicious tenderness. Yet, she gave it to him in earnest. ‘Touch yourself for me,’ he whispered in her ear.

Her hand obeyed. She moved her leg higher, offering her every depth to him. She circled her clit slowly, with the slightest of pressure. Her slick trailed down her fingers and she writhed under him. She gave him her moans; she gave him her body; she gave him her pleasure.

‘That’s it, baby. Make yourself feel good.’ He hummed at her misery, his cock delivering the faintest taste of what he suffered at her ignorance. 

Her cunt pulsed around him, gripping him until pleasure laced with pain with each slide. N whimpered and arched her back, pushing her hips into him. His hand on her jaw slipped to her throat, the only thing that kept her from curling away from him. She stared into his eyes, baring her soul for him. Her legs trembled, desperate to close, and his shadows crept up to hold them in place. She gasped when a few wisps searched for her soaked fingers and circled her skin. 

‘Shh,’ Azriel kissed her temple, ‘I know.' He pressed his tender lips to her cheek, a devastating contrast to his thrusts, ‘Come for me.’ 

And after a breath, she did.

The bond reeked of desire.

His and hers. His desperation, her relief. His longing, her content.

Azriel sank his teeth into her shoulder, hard—injecting the venom coursing through his veins into her, poisoning her with her own medicine, sharing the agony she inflicted upon him.

His heart was a house on fire, the mating bond a fuse, and she, the one with a match.

He pried her fingers away from her core and shoved them into his mouth. He purred at her taste, his chest rumbling against her back. With two staggering moves, he attained the same heavenly pleasure she did.

His hands wrapped around her, his legs intertwined with hers, and her body reaching out to his in a way that could only be described as a lover’s despair—the way they were meant to be. One and whole. Every breath, shared and stolen. Every touch, burning and soothing. 

Their moans stopped and their breaths calmed. Finally, the sounds of the world rushed back to his ears. The distant echo of the angry rain, the soft music from the bar below, the ghostly whispers that never turned into anything coherent. N sagged into the bed, loosening her grip on his fingers. 

Azriel eased her leg, massaging it with a careful hand. He kissed her cheek. ‘Talk to me,’ he said, ‘You okay?’

N nodded. ‘That was. . .’ she said between breaths, ‘intense.’

‘Good intense?’ He smiled against her shoulder, kissing the spots left by his canines where blood threatened to break through her skin.

‘“You should go on long missions more often” intense.’ 

He nipped her ear. ‘Say the word. And I will take you any way you want, whenever you want.’ He rolled onto his back, adjusting his wings under him. N looked at them with fascination. He pulled her to his chest, ‘Don’t unless you want to go again.’

She chuckled. ‘I can’t even look at them?’

‘You can do anything you want to them,’ he murmured to her lips, ‘Just give me a warning.’ His wing draped over her, the curved tip grazing up her leg as if agreeing to him, consenting to her. 

They remained silent for a long time, tracing swirls on each other’s skin. A moment frozen in time, drenched in comfort and warmth. Azriel ran his fingers through the lengths of her hair, damp more from his sweat than their shared shower. Every inch of her was marked by his presence. He smiled.

‘Azriel?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Next time come by sooner so that I can stop worrying.’ She was watching the rain through the glass door that stood between them and the balcony. Before he could remark, she added smiling, ‘The weather is nice.’ 

Azriel glanced over his shoulder. Winds howled—changing course every minute, spouting rain in every direction. The metal bird feeder suspended from the ceiling rattled and screeched. It swayed wildly close to breaking off its hinges. Water trickled along the walls, moving steadily towards the threshold.

He looked back at her and lifted a brow. ‘Nice? You’re about to be flooded.’

‘Maybe,’ she smiled up at him. Pulling a blanket over their bodies, ‘But I can do this,’ she wrapped an arm around his torso, pressing into him with a long sigh.

Azriel trailed his index along her cheek, down her jaw. He ached to let his will crumble and give in to his impulse. He only did it thrice after the bond snapped for him, too afraid to feel the nothingness again. He called to her through the bond—a gentle caress, begging her to follow him, pulling her closer than his physical body allowed, breaking the laws of the real world. 

He rested his finger on her heart hoping to feel something on her skin. An increase in heart rate, a hitch in her throat, or maybe the thrum of the bond’s stupid song that left him sleepless at night. Azriel would accept anything.

But her heart beat steadily, unaware of his desperation. The bond shimmered with his love, the light weaving through the thread until it met with her void again.

Ironic. The one born with the shadows had a heart aglow with love. And the other—warmth and light incarnated, had hers hidden in darkness. 

N placed a hand on his chest and perched her chin on it. She looked at him with curious eyes. ‘What?’

You’re my mate. 

The words were at the tip of his tongue. Three words and she would put him out of his misery. She would accept him, even if the bond never snapped for her. She would hold him close, kiss his lips, and tell him she loved him. She would rid him of some of his darkness.

A smile graced Azriel’s lips. He brushed her hair away from her eyes.

‘You hungry?’

[pedropascallme]

Thank You, Mr Miller

Pairing: dbf!Joel x f!Reader

Summary: "'So, what, I let you treat me like a whore and now you’re hiring a new babysitter?' You goaded him. Initially you thought this was the wrong thing to do—his brow raised in surprise at your words, and you’d considered the possibility that maybe this wasn’t what he had in mind, that it wasn’t what he wanted. But he grabbed you by the wrist, stroking your skin gently with his thumb."

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), age gap (reader is 20-22 age range, Joel is mid 50s), dom/sub dynamics (dom!Joel x sub!Reader), kinda brattammer!Joel? fingering, oral (f recieving), p in v sex, degradation, praise, little bit of cum play, Joel is talky when he's horny, no outbreak, if I missed anything else please let me know!

AN: Here it is...the moment you have all been waiting for...the long awaited part 2 of Yes, Mr Miller!! I hope you all enjoy <3

You woke up with your blankets pooled around your ankles. The heat from the fabric wrapped around you made your feet feel heavy under the sun shining in through your window.

You felt simultaneously drunk and deliciously sober; the daze and amazement at the events of last night washed away to reveal the underlying satisfaction of having finally gotten what you’d yearned for so deeply for so long.

Grabbing your phone off the nightstand, it finally registered to you how late you’d slept in; your parents had left for the day, for work and their respective errands, leaving you to sleep the day away despite more pressing matters. Your phone buzzed in your hand.

Still seeing you today?

Joel’s name lit up the screen and you felt yourself kick your feet, hearing the text in his voice, southern drawl and all. The thrill you’d experienced the night before hadn’t subsided, and the thought of being alone with him again, so intimate and passionate, made you bite your lip as you typed out your response.

Yeah. Gimme an hour.

~~~

The path to the Miller household felt longer today. Maybe it was the bubbling combination of nerves and excitement that you felt low in your stomach, but you kicked at the stones on the path, picking lint off of your skirt and trying not to let your hair fall victim to the humidity.

You hesitated before knocking on the door, unsure of whether or not you should change such a miniscule habit under even these circumstances.

You knocked anyway.

Joel answered, wearing a t-shirt that hugged his arms and abdomen, allowing you to admire his wide frame and the small scars near his elbows.

“Think we’re a little past knockin,’ darlin.’” He smiled down at you, and you flashed a shy smile that didn’t fool him for a second.

“Just wanted to be polite.”

“Yeah, I bet you do,” Joel licked his lips, “c’mon in.”

You followed him through the living room before stopping him at the foot of the stairs.

“Where’s Sarah?”

“With Tommy. Been buggin’ me to see him—knows he’ll do whatever she wants him to.” He scoffed.

“You do whatever she wants you to.” You grinned at his hypocrisy.

“Within reason.” Joel smirked.

“So, what, I let you treat me like a whore and now you’re hiring a new babysitter?” You goaded him, swatting at his chest. Initially you thought this was the wrong thing to do—his brow raised in surprise at your words, and you’d considered the possibility that maybe this wasn’t what he had in mind, that it wasn’t what he wanted. But he grabbed you by the wrist, stroking your skin gently with his thumb.

“F’I recall correctly, you loved bein’ treated like a whore.” Joel brought your hand to his lips, kissing each individual finger before letting it drop at your side.

“W—I might have…” You felt shy again, peeking up at him from under your eyelashes to watch the way his eyes darkened. “I think you liked it more.” You smiled, smug, but still carefully monitoring his reactions. Joel closed the space between you; your eyes came up just below his chin, and when he leaned down you could feel his breath on your face, his nose a hair’s width from your own.  

“I think you’re mighty confident for someone I had beggin’ for more less than twenty-four hours ago.” His arms wrapped around your waist, but he didn’t move to kiss you, letting his words hang in the air.

“Mr. Miller…” You whispered, unable to make more than a peep with strong arms at your side and fierce eyes boring into you. Your hands came up to steady yourself on his forearms.

“Go on, darlin’,” he remained the same stoic, hard to read man you had come to admire, but you could see the anticipation building in him; with his lips parted slightly you could see his tongue trace over his teeth, wanting, waiting. “Beg.”

“Want you…” You tilted your chin up, hoping he would finally give you a taste of what you craved, “need you. Please.”

Joel finally gave in, pressing his mouth to yours in a heated exchange of spit and teeth; you could taste the smell of the cologne he wore and the mint of his toothpaste, and something that was so purely Joel. Your arms came to perch on his shoulders, lifting yourself up enough to match the fervor with which he was kissing you, letting your tongue dance across his lips and in turn letting his own lick into your mouth. In the light of day, there was something so much more profound about exploring each other—it felt less secretive, less taboo, and much more affectionate than the moments you had shared in the car last night. You moaned into his mouth, letting him capture and savor the sounds you made for him.

“Good girl,” Joel hesitantly broke away from you, your heavy breath matching his, “jump up for me, sweetheart.” You felt large hands grab the meat of your thighs, and you squealed as he hoisted you up to rest your legs around his waist, “Doin’ this right. Takin’ you to bed.”

You hummed, kissing his neck while he maneuvered up the stairs, feeling a small swat on your thigh when the love bites you gave him nearly made him miss a step.

You didn’t realize that you had made it into the bedroom, too busy sucking at the exposed skin he had foolishly granted you access to. It wasn’t until he dropped you onto the mattress that you realized he had stopped moving.

“Try’na kill me?” He huffed, “kissin’ me like that while I’m walkin’ up those crooked ass stairs?”

You scooted up the bed towards the headboard. “Shouldn’t’ve picked me up if you didn’t want my kisses, Mr. Miller.” You shrugged, enjoying the way his nostrils flared when you teased him. He grabbed your ankle, pulling you down the mattress, and you yelped at the sudden movement. Joel spread your legs and leaned over you.

“When did you become such a fuckin’ brat?” He pulled up your shirt, exposing your bare, braless chest. He let out a dry laugh, “Knew you were getting’ fucked today, didn’t even dress yourself properly.” The words were muttered, mostly for his ears as appreciation for the easy access you were granting him. He dipped his head down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, his hand grabbing at the other one.

“Oh—! Yes, yes…” You felt his teeth brush against the pebbled flesh before his tongue swept over it in a soothing circular motion. The hand on your other breast pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, before releasing it to engulf your entire breast and squeeze.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Joel moaned into your flesh, sucking hard on your nipple and making your back arch into him, the feeling of his mouth on your chest had pleasure pooling in your lower stomach. “Dreamed about these pretty fuckin’ tits.” He resumed his movements, switching sides to pay more attention to the breast he’d been squeezing.

“Yours,” you combed your fingers through his hair, “all yours.” You moaned when he began to suck bruises onto the plush skin of your breasts, pulling at his hair gently in appreciation.

“That’s right, honey,” he came up to kiss your neck, “who do you belong to?” His hand came down to the hem of your skirt, flicking it up to allow his fingers to trail over your ruined, dainty cotton underwear. “Who’s this pretty li’l pussy belong to?”

“You—fuck—you! Please, you Mr. Miller. Please, please, please.” Your cries became repetitive when you felt his fingers press carefully against your clit, his calloused skin drinking in the moisture that seeped through your thin panties.

“I know, sweetheart.” He fell to his knees in front of you, pushing your skirt up your hips and out of his way to let him worship you properly; his hands toyed with the waistband of your underwear, and you grabbed limply at his wrist to spur him on. He all but ripped the fabric off of you, letting it dangle loosely around your ankle before you kicked it off and across the room, bringing your legs to his shoulders. Joel brought his face to your core, inhaling deeply, savoring your scent.

He brought two fingers up to pull you open wider for him to see. “So pretty, darlin’,” his fingers left your lips, trailing up and down your inner thigh before you felt the whisper of a touch on your entrance. “So easy to get you wet, princess. Eager li’l whore.” You squirmed, sighing softly at his words and trying to get what you needed.

Clearly eager in his own right, Joel’s tongue came down to lap up the juices pooling over your slit; you felt the muscle trail up to your clit and your legs folded and tightened around his neck, thighs squeezing his head in reaction to the sudden friction. Joel chuckled, arms wrapping around your legs to pry you open and allow himself space to bury his face into your cunt. You felt him suck on your clit, mouth closed around it, while his tongue came down to swipe over it. The back and forth combined with the pressure his lips sucked over you made your head swim, and you reached down to grip at his curls. He released you, spreading his tongue over your hole once more to explore the flavors you gave him. You felt him push into you, and you whimpered at the small but pleasant intrusion. The scruff of his beard rubbed into your thighs while he fucked you with his tongue, his nose occasionally bumping your clit as he tasted you.

“More…” You whined, one hand buried in Joel’s hair while the other pawed at your breast.

“Greedy li’l thing,” Joel kissed your clit softly before turning to place open-mouthed kisses on your thighs. “Tell me what you need, darlin’. More what?” His words were gentle despite the underlying need that laced them.

“You—anything...just want more.” Your words sounded out from your blissed-out haze, and Joel relished the opportunity to see you this way.

“Gonna be good for me? Keep your legs spread if I give you my fingers?” You nodded furiously, making a pathetic show of your obedience by widening your stance around his shoulders. Joel grinned, placing two fingers in your mouth. “Suck.” You coated them, and when he pulled them out a thin strand of saliva kept your mouth connected to them. Joel dipped his hand down to your cunt with the other still holding your thigh to the side, pushing both fingers into you and scissoring them slowly before drawing them in and out. Gasps escaped your throat when he curved them, his mouth returning to your clit while he stroked your most sensitive spot.

“Please, please, please—” You couldn’t think straight, so intently focused on the way his tongue felt against you, the rhythm of his fingers matching your steadily increasing heartbeat.

“Please what, darlin’?” Joel taunted you, speeding up the pace at which his fingers pumped in and out of your heat, “You wanna cum for me? Be a good girl like you were last night?”

Moans fell freely from your mouth, warmth building in your abdomen and spreading to the tips of your fingers. “Please, Mr. Miller…” You begged, fisting his hair in a subconscious attempt to lessen the overwhelming pleasure despite how badly you wanted it to continue.

Joel growled against you, his fingers curling more fervently. “Go on, then. Cum.”

You didn’t have to be told twice; your legs flexed then went limp around his neck, back arching into his hand and mouth, riding out the high he had gifted you.

“Fuckin’ pretty when you cum,” Joel praised, slipping his fingers out of you and moving down from your clit to lick the juices dripping from your entrance. “Taste so good, honey.”

Your skirt rested on your stomach, shirt still pulled over your chest, and you felt so utterly content with the feeling of having Joel whisper sweet nothings to you from between your thighs. You feathered your fingers through his hair, silently urging him to come up, letting out a small whimper when he licked small stripes over your clit before coming up to face you.

“Sweet girl,” Joel pecked kisses on your face, “not actin’ so tough now that you got the attention you needed.”

You giggled quietly, pulling him down for a kiss and scratching shapes over his back, still full of want even after he’d made you cum on his tongue. Your hips bucked up lightly against him.

 “Pretty li’l whore needs more?” Joel groaned, pushing his growing erection into your thigh, and you whined. “Use your fuckin’ words.”

Your palms fell flat on his back, and you pulled him in tight against you, tilting your head to whisper your wishes in his ear. “Want your cock, Mr. Miller.”

It was like watching a man possessed; Joel stood, leering over you as he pulled off his shirt, undoing his fly in one swift motion. He pulled you towards him, letting you sit up so that he could strip you of your own clothing. You shimmied out of your skirt before lifting your arms up to let him take your shirt off. He threw it to the side, and your hands drifted over the bulge in his jeans. You looked up at him, batting your lashes.

“Christ, you’ll kill me.” Joel took hold of your hands, throwing them behind you and encouraging you to lie back down. His hands kneaded your thighs, pulling them open again so that he could situate himself between them. You watched him free his cock from the confines of the denim, your lips parting and mouth watering.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about Joel’s cock before; it was the subject of all your fantasies. But now, watching him stroke himself above you, you felt unbridled desperation take hold of you. His hand wrapped around the base of his thick length, tip flushed red and veins running down the sides—you had never wanted anything more in your life.

You wiggled your hips, the pitiful noises you made doing nothing to encourage him to fuck you, only making him laugh over you.

“Told you to use your words,” Joel leaned over you, hand wrapping around your cheeks to certify that your focus was on him, “or do you just like bein’ difficult?”

You hummed at the way he spoke, thick accent coating the filth he said in sweet molasses. You blinked at him in faux innocence, “Can I have your cock?”

“Where are your manners, girl?”

“Please, Mr. Miller,” you spoke slowly, purposefully giving your voice a sultry edge, “can I have your cock?”

Joel straightened, taking his cock and running it through your folds, letting you coat him in your cum. “That’s what you want, sweetheart?” You felt him press his tip to your entrance, “Need this young cunt nice and full of my cock?”

Your restraint faltered, now purely focused on getting what you needed, and you couldn’t help the whimpers you let out, or the way your once teasing words turned into sobs of “please, please, please!”

Joel pushed his length into you, letting you acclimate to the feeling inch by inch; his brow furrowed, eyes closed, and your mouth fell open at the way he speared you so perfectly. “Goddamn, so fuckin’ tight f’me,” Joel groaned, bottoming out. His dominance faded slightly when he brushed the hair out of your face, “Feel good?”

“So full…” You breathed out, your hand falling flat against Joel’s lower stomach.

“S’what you wanted, ain’t it?” Joel bent himself forward, pressing his cock into you further, and you moaned out. “Wanted to get filled nice ‘nd deep?” There was that authority.

You nodded, nose brushing against his. “Fuck me—please fuck me.” You mewled, now accustomed to the stretch and longing to feel him wreck you. “Want you to break me, Mr. Miller.”

Joel let out an ungodly growl, immediately beginning to thrust in and out of you. “Fuckin’ slut—this what you needed? Big fuckin’ cock stretching this pussy out?” He lifted your legs over his shoulders, the angle lifting your bottom half off the bed and giving him more space to pound into you. “Pretty young thing doesn’t know what to do with this kind of attention, huh?”

His taunts had a shred of truth to them; your tongue lolled out from your mouth, spit drifting down over your cheek, and your eyes, though hooded, couldn’t hide how they rolled back with every deep push of his cock. You whined, trying to string together a sentence as best you could, but all you could manage was a continuous chant of “yes, yes, yes.”

“So pretty when you’re getting’ fucked,” Joel rambled, unable to keep his thoughts to himself when your pussy squeezed him tight, “you like this, princess? Like lettin’ a man twice your age use your cunt like this?”

You moaned, arching your back in wordless approval. Joel wasn’t satisfied with this, pulling out and smacking his cock against your clit.

“Asked you a fuckin’ question, girl.”

You cried out for him. “Yes! Yes, I fucking love it—please, I’m sorry, keep going!”

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought.” Joel reached around you, gently maneuvering you onto your stomach. “Put your knees up for me, baby.” You obliged, tucking your knees under yourself and keeping your back arched for him. He slid back into you, the head of his cock nestled perfectly against your g-spot in this position. You felt hands pull the hair off your neck, and Joel came closer to whisper in your ear, “Can I fuck you like this, darlin’?”

You hummed an affirmative, “Yes, please,” and pushed yourself back against him, letting the curve of your ass rest against his hips. Joel grabbed at the skin of your hips, squeezing at the soft flesh and watching the way your ass bounced against him.

“Fuck—yeah, like that, honey, that’s right. Fuck yourself on my cock.” You sped up, eager to impress Joel with your servility and delighting in the way you could feel every inch and vein of his thick cock with every movement you made. You rested your head on the mattress, arms spread out above you, and you could hear Joel’s deep moans of approval and praise.

“So perfect for me, s’so good.” His head fell back and his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass. He began to guide your hips at a faster pace; big hands holding your waist, pulling you flush against him. He watched with dark eyes the way you squirmed on him during an especially deep thrust, the way your fingers grasped at whatever they could find and your moans got higher in pitch when he fucked into your sweet spot.

“Feels so fucking good, Mr. Miller.” You mumbled into the bedsheets, voice uneven with the way your body bounced with every push of his hips, “you feel so good.”

“Needy girl, you feel good?” Joel cooed, “you gonna cum for me again? Let me feel you soak my cock?” He sped up his movements, his fingers moving down your body to apply pressure to your sensitive clit. Your toes curled, eyes watering at the overwhelming enjoyment that coursed through you; you lost any remaining control you had, legs uncurling beneath you, mouth producing whimpered gibberish. Joel held your now straight legs, using them as leverage to force himself deeper into your cunt. “My good girl, there you go. Cum for me, darlin’, lemme feel you squeeze me nice ‘nd tight. Show me again how fuckin’ pretty you look when you cum for Mr. Miller.”

You felt your legs tremble, eyes shut tight and pathetic, wanton moans escaping you. His fingers continued to massage your clit and with one last thrust of his cock you felt yourself let go completely. You screamed out cries of his name, whole body shaking around him as he continued to fuck you through the intensity of your climax.  

“Fuck—fuck, so good—perfect fuckin’ girl.” Joel groaned, leaning forward to press his chest into your back, each thrust sloppier than the last as he approached his own release. “Where do you want my cum, sweetheart—tell me what you want.” He was practically begging, so close to his high, awaiting your command.

“Cum in me,” you spoke barely above a whisper, “please cum in me, Mr. Miller—need it, please.” Your legs still trembled from the aftershock of your orgasm, the light, airy feeling clouding your mind, coming down to earth only to provide necessary details; “On the pill.”

Joel kissed your neck from his perch behind you, thrusts messy and cock throbbing. “Yeah? Gonna let me cum inside you, princess? Fill this pussy up, fuckin’ mark you?” He got faster, sloppier still, and you whined in encouragement. He pushed himself deep into you, and you felt his cock stir when he let out a low groan of your name, coating your walls with his spend, rocking his hips against you to keep his load deep.

He slumped over you, breathing hard. You reached a hand up to pull gently on his hair. “Heavy.” He smiled through his gulps of air, slipping his cock out of you with a hiss, rolling off of you and pulling you against his side. Your hand cupped his cheek while his own hand roamed the side of your body.

“Was that—do you feel good, darlin’? Wasn’t too rough, was I?” His other hand came up to stroke your hair, eyes searching you for signs of hurt or regret.

“Perfect,” you kissed his chest, “felt perfect.” You felt his cum dripping out of you, thighs coated with the sticky moisture.

“Yeah?” Joel smirked, nosing the top of your head. He removed his hand from your hair, dipping down between your legs and pushing a finger into you to feel the slick mess you'd both made. “Then what do you say?” His hand came up to your face.

You cuddled closer to him, letting the heat and sweat from his body sink into yours before wrapping your lips around his offered finger and tasting the milky combination of your cum and his. “Thank you, Mr. Miller.”

[highladyandromeda]

Shadows of the Heart

Part 6

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: After years apart, Y/n returns to Velaris, bearing the weight of sacrifice and secrets from her past. Reunited with Rhysand and his Inner Circle, she navigates the complexities of rekindled friendships and unresolved tensions. 

WC: 3.6k

Warnings: mentions of wounds hurting, but nothing particularly graphic but it is located on the arm.

[Prologue], [Part 1], [Part 2], [Part 3], [Part 4], [Part 5]

The House of Wind, perched high above the glittering city of Velaris, offered a view that could steal the breath from the lungs of gods and fae alike. Yet, the sight of the ten thousand stairs winding down to the city dimmed the splendor of the vista before Y/n. Memories of youthful races with Rhys and his sister, of nights spent laughing under the stars until they were too intoxicated to winnow home, brought a nostalgic smile to her lips. There was a particular memory, hazed with the fog of drunken mirth, of them staggering up these very stairs, each step a battle against gravity and their swirling heads, pausing periodically to empty their stomachs into the bushes that edged the ascent.

She considered, not for the first time, leveraging those memories to coax Rhys—or even Mor—into assisting her down, no questions asked. 

Cassian, too, would have offered a lift without a second thought, especially after her rigorous training session with the Valkyries that morning. But admitting, even silently, that she couldn't manage on her own was a concession Y/n wasn't ready to make. Not after her display of strength and defiance the day before. Her pride, stubborn and fierce, whispered warnings that Rhys and Mor would see right through her, and Cassian...well, Cassian might not connect the dots immediately, but word would spread.

Biting her lip, Y/n weighed her options. It was only ten thousand steps. She wasn't so frail, so weary, that the descent seemed insurmountable—though the unhealed cut on her arm begged to differ. She had concealed it beneath thin bindings and a long-sleeved blouse of pale blue, cropped at the waist and chosen in the hopes it wouldn't appear too out of place on such a warm, sun-kissed day.

"Are you headed to town?"

Y/n looked behind, half-expecting to find Azriel clad in his typical leathers, silently admonishing herself for letting him surprise her once more. Instead, she found herself caught off-guard by the casual attire he donned—a black pair of pants and a navy shirt loosely tucked in, revealing a hint of his Illyrian tattoos at the v-neck. Her gaze lingered a moment too long, tracing the intricate designs across his skin and the way his shirt clung to the contours of his well-defined chest. 

Azriel's smirk, a rare break in his stoic facade, acknowledged her wandering gaze. Before the silence stretched too thin, he offered, "Would you like a ride?"

The question hung between them, weighted with unspoken implications. Y/n turned back to the stairs, the vast descent looming before her. 

"Y/n?" His call, soft yet insistent, pulled her back from the edge of her thoughts.

He had stepped closer, almost as if drawn by her hesitation. 

"No...I mean, no thank you, Azriel,"

At the uncertainty in his gaze, she felt the need to elaborate, “I wouldn’t want to hold you up, I’ll go myself just…a bit later”

Her excuse sounded thin even to her ears, yet Azriel's offer remained, undeterred by her wavering resolve. "It would be my pleasure to escort you. They say the view is even more spectacular by air."

Y/n seized the opportunity, masking her relief with a playful curiosity. "They?"

Azriel's cheeks tinged with red, his words stumbling over themselves. "You know, Mor, Nesta, Elai—" His voice faltered, a rare display of vulnerability.

"Very well," Y/n conceded, allowing him a graceful escape from his flustered explanation. "I wouldn't want to be late for our meeting. And, I suppose it's been ages since I've seen Velaris from above. Only if it's no bother to you."

"No, it's no bother at all," Azriel assured her, his words tumbling out with an eagerness he couldn't mask.

Y/n positioned herself, lifting her arms in readiness. Azriel's touch was gentle yet firm as he lifted her, a care in his hold that sent an unexpected warmth flooding through her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, resisting the urge to draw closer, to seek comfort in the strength of his embrace.

Instead, her eyes traced the tattoos she had glimpsed before, a silent admiration for the art that marked his skin. Around them, Azriel's shadows danced with a life of their own, keeping her secure and holding her hair from flailing in the wind. 

In the silence that enveloped them, Y/n could discern the faint, rapid beating of Azriel's heart, its rhythm slightly too hurried for an Illyrian warrior on a leisurely flight. But Y/n kept her thoughts to herself, knowing that her heart was perhaps skipping as well.

Upon reaching the bustling heart of the town, Azriel gently descended, allowing Y/n to stand on her own. His arms reluctantly released her, a sense of loss washing over him as the warmth of her presence receded.

"Thanks for the ride, Azriel," her gratitude lit up her features with a warm smile.

"It was my pleasure," he managed to reply, his voice steadier than his racing heart.

Seizing the moment before doubt could diminish his resolve, he found himself suggesting, "If you'd like, I could show you around as well... around Velaris and its newer sights, after you're done with your errands, of course."

Y/n paused, her gaze sweeping over the town's lively expanse before settling back on him. "I'd like that," she agreed, a softness in her voice that coaxed a hopeful glimmer in Azriel's eyes.

"It's been so long since I've seen Velaris, I’ll meet you back here in an hour?”

As she stepped away, Azriel realized then, with startling clarity, that he had no actual business in the town. Yet, the prospect of spending more time with Y/n, of reintroducing her home seemed like the most significant task of all.

He should use this period to plan. To think about the places in Velaris that would spark interest in her eyes, the hidden corners and new developments he'd watched over from the shadows. It wasn't just about filling the time; it was about crafting moments that might bridge the gap between them.

As he lingered in thought, Azriel's attention was momentarily drawn to his shadows, which had, unbeknownst to him, begun to reach out towards Y/n's departing figure, specifically curling towards her left arm. With a subtle command, he reeled them back, a silent acknowledgment of her right to privacy. Despite his longing for closeness, he respected the boundaries between them, even those unseen.

Y/n was ashamed to admit it, but she double-checked every reflection she saw, cautious of any lurking shadows. The idea of anyone, particularly Azriel, tracing her steps to this particular location filled her with unease. Besides, she was embarrassed at the several missed turns it took before she finally arrived at her destination. Velaris had indeed changed; the streets still boasted their characteristic cobblestone pathways and white marble houses with green roofs. Yet, the atmosphere was distinctly different—teeming with fae from all corners of Prythian. It was a strange notion, to feel like a stranger in the land she had once called her home.

This sandstone building, however, was unchanged, just as she remembered it from all those years ago, tucked away in a nondescript corner. The walls were still lined with shelves that reached up to the high ceilings, each crammed with jars and bottles of varying shapes and sizes, filled with mixtures of different herbs. In the center of the room, cozy couches were draped with handwoven throws inviting patrons to sit and bask in the tranquility of the space. The soft glow of lanterns cast a gentle light, already comforting her tense nerves. 

“Just a moment!” she heard stepping in, before being greeted by a High Fae woman with dark skin, spindrift hair now touched with grey, and brown eyes that still sparkled with an inner warmth, despite the new wrinkles framing them.

The shock of recognition was mutual. “Y/n?” the woman exclaimed.

“Madja! It’s been too long,” Y/n said, moving in for a hug.

They embraced warmly before Madja pulled back, eyeing her with a mix of suspicion and affection. “It’s never been good when you’ve entered this store,” she remarked, an eyebrow arched in playful admonition.

Y/n laughed, the sound mingling with a sense of nostalgia. “Rhys and I weren't that bad, were we?” she quipped, attempting to deflect.

“Oh no,” Madja shot back with a smile, “You both were absolutely terrible.” Her tone softened, betraying the fondness behind her words.

Memories of past injuries, ranging from the ridiculous outcomes of foolish dares to the more serious wounds acquired during brutal training sessions, flashed through Y/n’s mind. She nodded, conceding the point. “But you were always there for us,” she said, gratitude lacing her voice.

"Yes, always there—mostly wondering which of you would walk in next, and whether I'd need a broom or a stretcher."

Then Madja’s expression turned more serious. “How can I help you today, Y/n?”

Fidgeting, Y/n glanced around the shop before responding. “I’m just here to look at some herbs...” Her voice trailed off, unconvincing even to her own ears.

Madja’s gaze narrowed slightly, but not unkindly. “Planning to brew your own tonic, are we?” she teased before adding, “If you need something for sleep or pain, I can prepare it for you. Discreetly, of course.”

Caught off guard, Y/n hesitated, then muttered something about merely experimenting in her free time. However, to divert Madja’s prying eyes, she offered a truth and quickly agreed to the offer of a sleep tonic. “Yes, that...my insomnia has been relentless lately.”

Madja nodded, her expression softening into one of understanding. “I’ll prepare something for you. No one needs to know,” she assured. 

While Madja busied herself, Y/n’s gaze wandered across the shelves, laden with jars of herbs, vials of potions, and artifacts of healing and magic, feeling a bit overwhelmed. She’d never admit it out loud, but her alchemy and potions for healing weren’t particularly up to par. For poison, well she already clocked 5 different ones she could create from the herbs she’d be able to identify thus far.

But for healing, and particularly for a wound that she’d not thought twice about before, with her magic and fae heritage naturally taking care of it; she realized then that she should have made a stop at a bookstore or visited the library this morning. 

By the time she had gathered the herbs she hoped would do, Madja returned, handing Y/n a small, unmarked vial. 

“Take two drops before bed,” she instructed, her voice low. “And Y/n,” she added, her eyes meeting the sorceress's, “whatever you’re facing, remember you’re not alone. Velaris isn’t just a city; it’s home.

Y/n’s heart clenched at the sincerity in Madja’s words. “Thank you, Madja,” she said, her voice thick with gratitude. She paid for the tonic and her bundle, seeing Madja’s impartial glance as a sign that she hadn’t chosen anything too offputting.  

Stepping out of the shop, Y/n took a deep breath, the air of Velaris filling her lungs, mingling with the scents of the river and the blooming night flowers. The city might have changed, but its essence, the heart of it, remained the same—a haven for the lost, the brave, and those in need of healing.

As the agreed time approached, Azriel's gaze was constantly drawn towards the path Y/n would emerge from. The anticipation had woven a tapestry of nerves and excitement within him, a feeling unfamiliar yet thrilling. His shadows, ever-present companions, danced around him with an energy that mirrored his own. When they alerted him to her presence, a wave of something akin to relief washed over him. 

She was making her way towards him, her steps confident, yet he noticed something different—a bag clutched in her hand, an addition to her ensemble.

Curiosity piqued, Azriel couldn't help but ask about the bag as soon as greetings were exchanged. "What's in the bag? If you don't mind me asking," he inquired, his tone light, trying to mask the depth of his curiosity and concern.

Y/n glanced down at the bag, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "Oh, just some cosmetics," she joked, her voice laced with humor. "I felt my complexion still looks very pallid. Thought I might need a touch-up if I continue to stay in the illustrious night court."

Azriel, taken aback by her answer yet finding it endearing, responded without hesitation, his voice sincere. "You look beautiful, Y/n. You don't need anything more for that."

The moment the words left his mouth, a warm flush of embarrassment colored his cheeks, mirroring the blush that bloomed on Y/n's face. Azriel couldn’t help but feel pleased with her reaction, though he tried to ignore how he longed to see where else that rosy hue would appear. 

Seeking to recover from the moment, Azriel cleared his throat softly, gesturing towards the city. "Shall we begin our tour? Velaris has much to offer, and I'd like to show you everything I've planned."

Y/n nodded, her smile bright, the earlier blush still present but accompanied now by a look of genuine happiness. "I'd love that, Azriel. Lead the way."

As they ventured into the heart of Velaris, Azriel found himself sharing stories and lore of the city, each tale carefully chosen to entertain or spark curiosity in Y/n. He noticed how her eyes lit up with each new sight, her laughter more melodious to his ears than any music. It was as if, with her by his side, Velaris transformed into an even more magical place, its beauty magnified through her presence.

“It’s said that this fountain,” Azriel gestured to an ornate structure, water dancing under the sun’s fading glow, “was built by a high lord as a tribute to his mate’s beauty, which he believed surpassed even that of the Night Court’s stars.”

Y/n’s laughter, light and infectious, filled the air. “A high bar for beauty,” she remarked, her gaze lingering on the play of light over water. “Do you think such comparisons are fair, comparing someone to the stars?”

Azriel found himself caught in the depth of her gaze, her curiosity igniting his own. “Perhaps not fair, but it speaks to the beholder's awe. Don’t we all aspire to find a love like that, where the connection is so intense, that it could rival the stars?

But just as their souls seemed on the verge of whispering secrets only the heart could hear, the boisterous cry of a vendor shattered the stillness.

"Delicacies of the night! Taste the wonders of Velaris!" His voice, loud and full of life, tore through the tender veil of connection they had cocooned themselves within.

In an instant, the world rushed back in—a flood of sounds and lights, washing away the moment of intense closeness they had found. They were left adrift, surrounded by the vibrant chaos of the night market, the poignant ache of a moment lost too soon lingering in the air between them.

The day gave way to evening almost without notice, hours spent in exploration and shared discovery. 

Azriel led her through the vibrant heart of Velaris, showcasing the city's architectural marvels—the four Palaces. They spent the most time at the Palace of Thread and Jewels, a bustling market square alive with the hum of creative energy. Here, amidst stalls adorned with fabrics that whispered tales of distant lands and jewelry that sparkled with the promise of untold stories, Y/n came alive in a way Azriel hadn't seen before.

He watched, fascinated, as she engaged with the vendors, her knowledge of gems and textiles flowing effortlessly, her eyes lighting up with each piece she examined. Her hands, graceful and assured, would trace the lines of cloth, her touch eliciting stories from silk and satin alike.

In one of those quiet moments, shared over a stall draped in velvets and brocades, Y/n turned to Azriel, a softness in her eyes. "When I was much younger," she confessed, "I dreamt of being a fashion designer. I wanted to create clothes that weren't just worn but experienced—garments that would steal the breath from those who beheld them."

Azriel's gaze softened as he listened, the ambient noises of the marketplace fading into the background. "That's a beautiful dream," he responded, his voice low and thoughtful. "The clothes we wear can speak volumes, tell stories, and even protect us. Your designs could have done all that and more, I believe."

She laughed, a sound that mingled with the evening air, rich and full of possibilities. "Maybe in another life, Azriel. For now, I'm content with my path, though it's nice to dream a little."

As they continued to explore the stalls, Azriel couldn't help but see the market—and Y/n—in a new light. Every thread, every jewel, seemed to hold a piece of the dream she had shared with him. And in that moment, he made a silent vow to himself to support her dreams, in whatever form they might take, hoping that they could come true with him at her side. 

As the gallery’s doors closed behind them, Azriel realized the day had slipped away into the evening, the sky a canvas of deep blues and purples. “You must be hungry after our day,” he said, the thought striking him with sudden concern. “Would you join me for dinner?”

The smile Y/n offered in response, wide and genuine, set his heart racing. “I’d love to, Azriel. Thank you.”

Choosing a quaint restaurant known for its exquisite cuisine and intimate ambiance, Azriel had such joy when she accepted his invitation. However, as they approached the entrance, he reached out to gently guide her by the arm, a gesture meant to be polite. To his surprise, she recoiled—a flash of discomfort shadowing her features.

Throughout dinner, Azriel couldn’t shake off the feeling that he had overstepped, his mind replaying the moment she flinched. Despite the array of dishes that graced their table, she barely touched her food, her usual spark dimmed to a quiet reserve.

“Y/n, if I did something earlier to upset you, I apologize. It wasn’t my intention,” he ventured, hoping to bridge the silence that had settled between them.

Y/n shook her head, offering a small smile. “No, Azriel, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just not very hungry tonight, that’s all.”

Despite her reassurance, Azriel couldn’t help but feel a gnawing insecurity for the rest of the evening, wondering what unseen barriers still lay between them. The night that had started with laughter and shared secrets now seemed cloaked in a quiet tension, and Azriel found himself wishing for the ability to read her thoughts, to understand her silence.

As they stepped out of the restaurant into the velvet night, the streets of Velaris were bathed in the soft glow of starlight and lamplights, casting ethereal shadows around them. Azriel, still filled with guilt from the earlier incident, searched for words to lighten the mood and make amends. He longed to suggest they fly back, to offer her the breathtaking views of Velaris by night from the sanctuary of his arms. Yet, the memory of her recoiling from his touch echoed loudly in his mind, a reminder of the boundaries he feared to overstep again.

With a heavy heart, he proposed instead to winnow them back, a quicker, less intimate mode of travel. "We can winnow back, but it's a bit of a drop—we'll land on the balcony. I'll need to hold you for just a moment to manage the descent," he explained, trying to mask his disappointment.

Y/n, fiddling with her bag, offered a small nod, her voice quiet.

"That's fine. I'll just hold onto your arm. I should be okay with the drop," she replied, the simplicity of the arrangement failing to hide the distance it imposed.

As they landed with soft thuds on the balcony, Azriel couldn't help but notice how the moonlight painted Y/n's features, highlighting her beauty yet highlighting her pallor. She thanked him, her voice a whisper against the night, as she turned to leave. The urge to reach out, to bridge the space between them with a touch, surged within him, but he halted, his fingers hovering mere breaths away from her shoulder. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier," he found himself saying again, the words heavy with unspoken feelings.

Y/n shook her head, a gesture of dismissal or perhaps forgiveness, Azriel couldn't tell. "I'm just tired, that's all. The day finally caught up to me," she offered, her voice carrying a fatigue that went beyond the physical.

The silence that followed was filled with things unsaid, with Azriel's silent plea for understanding and Y/n's unspoken reassurances. When he hesitantly asked if she was still alright with him assisting her with her research, she nodded, her agreement to meet at the library the next day offering a glimmer of hope, a possibility of redemption.

As she retreated into the night, leaving Azriel alone with his thoughts on the balcony, he watched her go with a sense of loss.

A/N: Hi eveyone!! So I'm not really sure how I feel about this chapter. Tbh I had a lot of writer's block and I wasn't really sure where I wanted Y/n and azriel to go during these chapters. But I do LOVE a blushing Az!!!

I have plans for future chapters and I really want to add in some more snippets about Y/n and Rhys as children and teenagers, messing and playing around with each other. Let me know if you have any ideas you'd want to read!

For my tag list, I tagged everyone who asked and those who commented on the previous parts. If you'd like to be included, please just let me know. 💕

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