#like fuck all that my knee feels like it's on fire and my foot is aching and my HEAD barely escaped injury

[hummingbirdswords]

.

#injuring myself at 5 something in the morning wasn't on my bingo card and yet here we are #that thing they say about your life flashing before your eyes before you die sounds fake to me now #bc as I fell and barely hit my head on either the tub or tub my thoughts were how embarrassing it would be to found #with my toothbrush hanging from my mouth and yesterdays dress on #how inconvenient it would be for the roomie #like fuck all that my knee feels like it's on fire and my foot is aching and my HEAD barely escaped injury #my brain was more concerned with the fact that I was in the way and would be seen in an unflattering situation #always thinking about the important things hahahahaha #this week is canceled im really over it

[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. 

#acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel supremacy #i love this bat boy sm #azriel fanfic #azriel smut #hoo boy this is nasty #Save a horse ride a bat boy am i right? #bat boys #bat boys x reader #azriel imagine #acotar imagine #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #azriel acomaf #azriel acosf

[luvyeni]

ʚ : TEASING THE ENHYPEN HYUNG LINE IN PUBLIC ₊̣ !

warnings? handjobs , footjobs , namecalling , no penetration , public sex , heeseung cums in his pants

— 𖦹 ( the hyung lines reaction to you teasing them in public ) !

HEESEUNG ! he was trying to hold his composure , but it was kind of hard when you were stroking him through his jeans under the table , right in front of his friends. his face was red , and sweat was forming on his forhead — yet you sat there laughing with sunoo so unfazed , while he was about to blow his load in his pants.

"b-baby." he whispered in your ear , more like whimpered. "baby please i'm gonna cum , please stop." but you didn't listen , he could hold it much longer , he bit his fist , turning his head in embarrassment as he came. "we have to go." heeseung quickly got up , dragging you away. "that wasn't nice was it? making me cum like that , now don't give me those tears when i make you cum until you're begging me to stop."

JAY ! he wanted to jump across and take you right then in front of all his associates , put you right back in your place , make you beg for his cock like he always had you — instead , he had sit there , stoned faced as your stiletto clad foot rubbed up and down his calve , making it's way all the up to his cock , pressing down on it , you made eye contact with him , the anger in his made your panties soak.

your smirk pissed him off to the max , but he wasn't gonna let you win , he wasn't gonna cum in his pants like a amature. "that's all for today everyone , meeting over." you both got up , everyone walking out the door , you could feel him right behind you. he wasn't gonna let you get away that easy , before you could make your way out the door , he snuck up on you , closing the door , caging you in between. "you think you're so fucking funny princess , let's see how funny it is when the whole company hears you screaming my name like a whore."

JAKE ! he smirked , biting his lip as your hand came up to his crotch palming his cock , stroking him through his jeans , he knew the game you were playing and he loved it , he loved seeing you all needy for him , but if you want to play this game , he was gonna play to , but he was gonna beat you at it.

your skirt made it easy for him to stick his hands up your skirt , his smirk turning into a cheshire cat like smile. he leaned over , whispering into your ear. "dirty girl." he tapped your sticky cunt. "you aren't wearing any panties." he sunk a finger into your hole. "j-jake." you grabbed his wrist , but it didn't stop him , he removed your hand whispering into your ear again . "nah baby , you started this , if you're not gonna play fair why should i?

SUNGHOON ! you were playing with fire honestly , because he told you to stop the moment you put your hand on his knee he was slapping it off muttering a behave into your temple , you should've stop there , and listened , but you didn't , instead you kept going , and going , until your hand reached his clothed cock , squeezing it making him groan.

"you alright hoonie?" you looked at him with a smirk so sly he just wanted wipe it off your face. "so funny princess." he grabbed your wrist , stopping you. "i wonder if it will still be so fucking hilarious if i bend you over this table and fuck you like the whore you are in front of all these people."

©️LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #enhypen scenarios #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut reactions #enhypen reactions #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung hard hours #jay x reader #jay smut #jay hard thoughts #jay hard hours #jake sim x reader #jake sim smut #jake sim hard thoughts #jake sim hard hours #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon smut

[sassypossumm]

Dirty Talk

Miguel might be the top in your relationship, but not when it comes to dirty talk... (obv...18+) I refuse to apologize for my horny ass self...

It started out so simply, you wanted to try your hand at dirty talk, and of course Miguel was all for it...

At first, you were more than happy to let Miguel take the reins after your botched first attempt where you inadvertently referred to his cock as 'dumbo' and compared the sounds of your love making to a seal clapping its fins...

(He still hasn't stopped teasing you about saying 'sea world' when he orgasmed into your hand)

After that, he'd taken the firmly dominant position. And aft first... that was great, sure you loved beimg called his 'little slut', and you loved Miguel dearly, but you couldnt help but feel that he was holding back...

Hed start out intending to be degrading and rough, but once his dick was inside of you, he devolved back into your pussy drunk teddy bear.

And while you'd never complain about having him draped over you, pressing praises and affection into your skin as he slowly rocked in and out of you... you couldn't escape the morbidly curious thought...

What if he let go?

Which led to weeks of digging and research, because hell or high water, you just had to see that darker edge he kept hidden so well...

***

"Gonna cum for me, mi amor?" Miguel gripped your hips, titling them slightly off the bed to meet his lazy thrusts. You turned your face into the pillows and bit back a whimper.

"Don't hide those sounds." He growled, draping himself over you, humping his cock deeper. You whimpered, and your walls fluttered around his cock, dragging a throaty moan from his chest.

Oh, how you loved those primal sounds he made... and you needed more, it was never enough, nothing was ever enough with Miguel.

Nipping at your ear, he laced his fingers over yours and moaned again, flooding your body with tingly vibrations that your pussy constricting his cock mercilessly.

Another groan and his thrusts slowed as his jaw went slack and his eyes glazed over with just how good you felt.

"So good..." He whimpered, and you felt your teddy bear returning to his natural state. Fisting the sheets, you squeezed your eyes shut and sucked in a sharp breath before,

"I want you to fuck me." It was more of a whisper than a statement, but Miguel froze mid thrust, and propped himself up on his elbows, pearing down at you in confusion.

"I thought I was fucking you." His lips tipped up in a half smirk as he smoothed his hand down your hip. Shaking your head, you ran a hand through his damp hair and slid your hands down his shoulders.

"I want you to fuck me." Your voice dipped as your hands trailed up and down his arms, and you shivered as his hand tightened possesively around your thigh.

"Amor," He warned gently, stroking your inner thigh with his thumb. Wrapping your arms around his neck you tugged until he rested his weight more firmly against yours, effectively pinning you to thr mattress.

"I wanna be your cumdump...." You purred, nipping at his ear. Miguel's grip on your thigh tightened as he drew it up towards his hips. "Wanna be your fucktoy." You mewled, wrapping your leg around his waist, resting the heel of your foot lightly against his ass.

"You're playing with fire, muñeca." He murmured, voice strained. You bit down on his pulse point, drawing a pleased rumble from his chest, his hips rolling into yours. Heat pricked your skin, and taking a shaky breath you sucked at his ear.

"I want you to mount me... and fuck me like a bitch in-" With a primal grunt, Miguel easily flipped you onto your stomach. You squeaked as he tugged you up to your knees roughly.

"Wanna repeat that, querida?" He growled in your ear, sinking his fangs into the nape of your neck. A helpless whimper escaping our lips as he wound his hand in your hair and tugged until your back arched. "I believe...you were saying..." Your eyes rolled back when he nudged your clit with the head of his cock, little spurts of presume mixing with your arousal.

"Fuck me dumb." You whined desperately, dropping to your elbows, presenting your ass. Miguel ran a hand over the plush of your ass, grinning darkly when he spread your cheeks only to find you horribly aroused and puffy.

"My kittens grown quite the dirty tongue." He purred. You cried out as he slid his hard cock into you in one fluid motion.

"I'm going to ruin this pussy." His words reverberated through you with each sharp thrust of his hips, and you were still feeling the aftershocks the next morning when he carried you to the shower...

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #miguel imagine #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara smut #atsv

[mingtinysworld]

Lock your windows

Pairing: jung wooyoung x fem!reader

Genre: smut, "dark" romance

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: After a discussion with your experimental boyfriend, you two are able to play out one of your long awaited fantasies

Warnings: MDNI, CNC, "stalker" wooyoung, role playing?? oral (m/f receiving), fingering, mention of a safe word, it seems noncon but just read til the end please trust me😭

Network: @newworldnet

A/n: idk why but the idea of wooyoung being a stalker is so hot to me. I also know he would be such an experimental partner to have, it's driving me insane. I need him so very badly

You and your friends screech in laughter as someone says something hilarious. You and your friend group have been out for a couple hours now, drinking, eating, shopping, just having the best night out ever. The air is warm and stale, the humidity making your hair puff up in frizziness.

As you stumble along the path in your black high heels and sparkly silver dress you stand out, like a shiny pearl in the ocean. The glitter makes shadows on the dimly lit walls, making the light bounce off. You start laughing at something again when you suddenly stop.

A shiver slithers up your spine and makes the hairs of your nape stand up in alarm. Your friends realize you’re not following them anymore and they stare in confusion. They ask if you’re ok but you’re too busy looking around, trying to find the source of the eerie feeling.

You can’t seem to find anything in the shadows and tentatively take steps forward. Your friends look at each other with raised eyebrows but choose to shrug it off. You keep walking but you don’t say anything until you reach your doorstep. They say goodnight and leave you to your apartment.

You walk in and throw yourself on the cushiony couch, resting your eyes from exhaustion. You tap your foot quietly and hum a random tune that’s been stuck in your head all day when you hear a distant clatter from the direction of your bedroom and your eyes shoot open and foot stops tapping. You stand up curiously and walk towards your room.

As you walk in you can feel a cold breeze and you blink in confusion. You see that your window is wide open, blinds pulled apart. You don’t remember leaving your window open but you must’ve been in a rush and didn’t even realize. You shake your head at your inattentiveness and close it shut. You return to your spot on the couch and shut your eyes once more.

There’s clattering coming from the same direction again and you sit up in alarm this time. You warily go to your room, trying to inspect what the noise is. You see the window is open again, making the curtain billow in the wind.

“What the fuck.” You exclaim. You’re convinced you’re going crazy. You’re sure you closed it, but maybe the day is really getting to your head. You take a step and are thrown down to the ground in an instant. You gasp from the impact, managing to catch yourself on your elbows, but your knees are on fire from the carpet burn.

You try to turn on your back and find that your movements are restricted from a weight on your lower back. It feels like a boot is pressing you down, pushing the air out of your lungs. You breathe in tightly and your whole body tenses. You whimper in pain and the pressure lifts a little and you sigh in relief.

“Hi my love, we finally meet.” The stranger speaks with a low tone.

“W-who are you?” You wheeze out.

“I’m your lover of course, who else would I be?” He says matter of factly. You furrow your eyebrow in confusion.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” You try to talk without your voice betraying your fear. He chuckles at that and completely removes his boot.

“Oh you’ll understand what I mean soon.”

He reaches down to turn you over. As you lay on your back in the dark room, you observe his face as best you can, the only light provided being the single lamppost outside. He has long jet black hair and dark glimmering eyes. His nose has a perfect point and his mouth is turned up at the corners in a sneer.

He also studies you in turn. Your beauty up close does not compare to the months of watching you from afar. The hundreds of photographs hanging in his room pale in comparison. He’s filled with so much pure excitement at seeing you face to face finally.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this moment. For the day I get to caress your face, for the day I get to hear your sinful noises brought out by me. I’ve been very, very patient and this is my reward.” He looks into your eyes deeply, as if he’s mentally willing you to believe his words.

You feel a shiver go up your spine as you realize that the man is completely serious. He truly believes his delusions and it isn’t up for a discussion. He looks down at his silver watch, as if he’s on a mission. With a growing dread and arousal you realize that he is on a mission.

You are the mission.

You continue to stare at him with wide, fearful eyes as he straddles your still form. He leans into your neck and just stays there, nose taking in your scent deeply. He inhales and exhales and groans quietly. With his mouth muffled against your collarbone, he speaks.

“I can just smell the arousal coming off of you. You really love this huh.” You let out a small whimper at that and he raises his head.

“Don’t worry angel, Wooyoung is here to take care of you. I got you.” He speaks with a promising tone.

He leans in once more and he can feel your rapid heartbeat, which only aids in exciting him further. He kisses you with ease, almost intimately, caressing your bare arms and leaving goosebumps in his wake. You try to use your knee to push him off and he growls into your open mouth. The sweet kiss turns into an animalistic one. He gropes your breasts and kisses you breathless. As he rocks back and forth across your abdomen you can feel his growing bulge.

You feel your cunt throb emptily, needing something you’re too ashamed to admit. You submit to his feverish kisses and try to relax your body. He notices the change and grins in response.

“There you are, my love. Let’s get to the bed, shall we? I’d rather take you on a softer material.” He mockingly pouts and furrows his eyebrows. He lifts you up with ease and gently sets you on the bed. His hands settle underneath your shirt, slightly tickling your stomach. You squirm in hopes that he touches you sometime soon, or else you’ll explode.

He trails down your body, reaching your flimsy shorts and teasingly blows air on you. You buck your hips instinctively and he holds you down, clucking his tongue in disapproval.

“Nuh uh baby, I thought you were gonna be good for me?” He cocks his head sideways, questioning you.

“Yes, yes, I will, I promise.” You babble, feeling fucked out already.

He gives you a soft smile and rubs your thighs soothingly before landing a harsh smack. Your body jolts in reaction but you manage to hold in your yelp. Without wasting another second he pulls your shorts aside and dives in.

You muffle your moan into the palm of your hand, feeling like you need to scream. The stimulation is making you feel relief but so much torture at the same time. Wooyoung’s expert tongue is lapping up your slick, almost like a hungry animal and when he looks up at you, his gaze is as sharp as a predator.

His finger finds your clit with ease and twists and pulls as you mewl pathetically. Not once does he come up for air, he practically buries his head in your pussy, prodding his tongue into every crevice.

“You taste so sweet mmhh.” Wooyoung moans into your pussy, sending vibrations up your body. He digs his fingers into your hips, holding you even closer. You have to bite on your hand now to keep yourself quiet. He slightly bites down on your clit and you let out a shriek. Your body jolts up and you cum with a shuddering breath.

He finally removes himself from you and stares down at the state of your cunt. It’s a sopping wet mess, covered in spit and slick. His face is also covered in your juices, and he greedily licks up what he can. You close your eyes in an attempt to recover, but it’s interrupted by his fingers.

He rams two fingers deep into you until he’s knuckle deep. He finds your g-spot immediately and you see stars, making you hold on to his wrist in a desperate attempt, but he simply pins your hand to your side. You grind your hips deeper into his fingers, needing to feel more. He reads your mind and adds in a third finger.

You moan at the stretch and clamp around him. He looks at your face intently, watching your screwed up face of pleasure. He wastes no time adding a final fourth finger. You gasp at the sensation and convulse from the intensity. Your whole body shakes as you reach the peak of your climax. You cry out and gush around Wooyoung’s slender fingers and he fucks you through your orgasm.

You groan lightly, feeling the energy escape your body. Wooyoung softly caresses your stomach to bring you down and you close your eyes and breathe out. He crawls to you slowly, and you open one eye from feeling the dip of the mattress.

Wooyoung takes your hand and puts it over his hardened bulge. He grinds into your hand slowly, letting out groans of satisfaction. Due to your exhaustion he chooses to go easy on you. He pulls down his pants and gets closer to your awaiting mouth. He slides in slowly, only going halfway. You let your mouth go slack and have him use you gently. He moves in and out, poking the inside of your cheek occasionally. You land a soft hand on him once more and attempt to help out. He throws his head back and enjoys the sensation of your warm mouth.

With a few more soft thrusts he pulls out of your mouth and cums all over your breasts. Once he comes down from his high he grabs towels to clean you up. He gently dabs at your used cunt and slick thighs, including your now cum stained breasts. You feel sleep calling your name and let out a content sigh. Wooyoung notices and lets out a giggle whilst cuddling up to your side.

"Thank you for trusting me baby." He expresses his gratitude by giving small pecks to your face.

"I told you I wouldn't have to use my safe word. You were perfect." You mumble, only half awake.

"I know love, but it's always good to be prepared. It would kill me if I ever hurt you." He speaks reverently, like you're a goddess to worship.

You give him a grunt of acknowledgement to let him know you're still listening even though your tired body is screaming for sleep. Wooyoung looks at your serene face, remembering how wild and frenzied you had looked only moments prior. Before you're completely out he leans down to whisper in your ear.

"I guess this is what happens when you don't lock your windows baby."

#ateez #mingtinysworld #ateez smut #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung

[bangtanflirt]

(Un)natural Instincts (Part 1)

I'm finally showing up in tags again woohoo! 🥳 Thank you guys for your patience!

angst, fluff, smut

Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.

Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.

Part 1 > Part 2

General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property, future smut (Minors DNI, 18+ content)

Specific Warnings: needles, torture collars, misogyny in the workplace, probably very inaccurate business talk (pls suspend disbelief lmao)

____

The day starts off as typical as any other, with your assistant bringing you your morning coffee. You mindlessly take a sip while scrolling through your emails, except what welcomes your lips isn’t the usual Americano, but some Iced Matcha abomination—disgustingly too sweet for nine o’clock in the morning. You look up, ready to give Assistant Min a piece of your mind, but instead see a woman in his place.

“Who are you?”

The woman flashes you a nervous smile, hands fiddling in front of her stomach.

“Yoongi-ssi had an emergency, so I’m filling in. I’m the new hire, S—”

“I don’t care what your name is, this isn’t my coffee order. Bring me my Americano before my first meeting.”

“I’m so sorry! I was taking orders for all the executives, so I got confused. I’ll bring it asap!”

She runs off, feet clicking with each hurried step of her heels.

You toss the unnaturally green drink in the trash, annoyed at the setback in your morning routine. After shooting a quick "Are you okay?" text to Yoongi, you're back to your work.

Emails pile up in your inbox as they do every morning, mountains of classified information that you need to comb through before your 10am meeting. It’s tedious, but it’s the family business after all. Your grandfather started Shin Investments in the forties, and your dad took the business to new heights when he took over, now with your parents retired and on some island in god-knows-where, it’s up to you to make sure the company doesn’t lose its footing in the venture capitalist industry.

It's twenty minutes later when your Americano does arrive. Your eyes narrow into slits upon holding the cup in your hands.

“It’s lukewarm.”

“Oh my god, I apologize! Mr. Han stopped me on the way here, briefing me about what to prep for the afternoon meeting. I did not mean to take so long! I’ll heat it up and bring it back.”

You wave your hand dismissively.

“No need. You’re fired.”

The woman almost stumbles on air at your words, catching her balance quickly.

“Miss Shin p-please..I really need this job! I won’t make a single mistake from now on!”

“Too late.” You reach for the cup, the second one of the day to end up in the trash. “Please leave before I call security. I have work to do and no caffeine to help me.”

She doesn’t leave, but rather falls to her knees, waterworks in full effect. You let out a irritated huff.

“Please! Please, I need this!”

You don’t pay the commotion any attention, used to such scenes happening in your office by now. You simply dial security.

Your receptionist watches the new girl get dragged out, eyes sympathetic as she’s tossed right in front of the front desk.

“She-she fired me…all for a cup of coffee…I’ve worked so hard to get into this company and she just…for a fucking cup of coffee!”

Mascara stains a black rim around her eyes.

“I’m so sorry Seulgi-shi. You don’t deserve that.”

“M-maybe I should go beg for a second chance after some time has passed? What if I come back in the eve—”

“You’ll be wasting your time. That would’ve worked with the previous bosses…but Miss Shin is as tough as it gets. It’s unfortunate, but I’ve seen countless people get fired for less than a cup of coffee—dragged out here just like you.”

You overhear the conversation, as the security guard didn’t properly close the door on their way out. You can’t say it makes you feel all that good, crushing some fresh-faced new hire’s dreams, but it sends a message. You knew what you had to do once the company was signed over for you—how you had to conduct yourself to survive. The world of venture capitalism was cutthroat to say the least, and still considered “not women’s business” by many. The sad reality was that, if you wanted to be taken seriously, you’d have to be feared—because respected was rarely an option. So, you play your role well and let the rumor mill do the rest, so everyone knows not to mess with the ruthless bitch of a CEO at Shin Investments.

You walk into the meeting room and the vibe immediately changes: the once lively room of everyone asking each other how their weekends went turns silent enough to hear a feather fall.  Only sound is that of your red-bottoms click-clacking and earrings jingling. You take your seat, motioning for the standing executives to do the same. They can tell you’re more irritated than usual, and that could easily mean a demotion with one wrong move.

“Everyone’s here so let’s jump into it: where are we with HoloPad?”

“We’re at the audit stage ma’am.”

“Still?”

The tension in the air is palpable.

“Th-there’s been some—erm—gap in the books. They are working on fixing it right now.”

“So they’re cooking the books?”

“I-uh-I wouldn’t say—”

“Calling it something else isn’t going to change the fact that they’re cooking the books Mr.Choi. Call off the deal.”

The executives stare at each other with dumbfounded faces, hushed complaints erupting at the table.

“But ma’am…the CEO is the heir of Jun Tech…it’s not advisable to ruin our relationship with them.”

A bunch of others chime in with the same sentiment, and you have the room of men turned against you as usual.

“Is that so Mr.Choi? Do you really advise me to invest millions into a venture that can’t even provide proper financial records? All to avoid making the Jun family angry? Mind I remind you that this is a business, not a family drama?”

“It’s just—”

“And all of you who agree with Mr.Choi here…don’t think I don’t notice the new watches on your wrists. Can’t be a coincidence, can it? Everyone who wants to continue with the deal happening to buy the newest Jun Tech watches at the same time?”

Five people, including Choi, scramble to take off their watches, heads down in shame.

You let out a hollow laugh. “You all are too dumb to even be bribed properly, I can’t believe it! Anyways, I expect five letters of resignation on my desk by tomorrow morning. This is me extending my grace for all the work you’ve done in the company so far, but if you don’t voluntarily leave, I will not hesitate to disgracefully remove you.”

That’s the last thing you say before click-clacking your heels out the room, not missing the outbursts of “bitch” and various other insults blaring from the other side of the door as soon as you leave.

It’s moments like these when you just want to call your father and have him step in to help, but you can’t. You can’t be seen as a fragile little daddy’s girl in a room full of bloodthirsty businessmen. You keep your composure until you’re in the comfort of your office, where you let yourself decompress for a minute. Only a minute, though, because your receptionist is soon knocking at your door to remind you of a charity event tonight—a reminder that would’ve come from the temporary assistant if you had not fired her an hour before.

___

The charity auction seems standard, with the usual crowd flaunting off their rare pieces of art and jewelry under the guise of doing something good. You’re not in a place to judge too much, considering you’re also here doing the same thing. You are the only one who seems to see how ridiculous it all is though, for the little that’s worth.

“Y/N! Long time no see!”

You’re immediately swept up into various groups of people wanting to “catch-up” (aka keep in your good graces for their next business venture).

Yup. A typical day.

Until Kang Byung-hun approaches you with that same condescending smile he gives you at every event. He’s a short, plump man, a little bit older in age than your father, and he’s a complete pain in your ass. The not-so-subtle jabs during formal dinners, gossiping behind your back, and overall misogynistic world-view makes you want to tear out your hair every time you see him.

“Mr.Kang!” You say in the cheeriest tone, smiling wide. He’s a pain, but he’s got a lot of influence, and you’d be an idiot to dismiss that.

“Ah Y/N. I see you’ve done yourself up for this event. On the lookout for a husband, are we?”

You keep your smile through gritted teeth.

“Just looking my best for the noble cause, sir.”

“I’m sure.”

The wait staff comes around with wine at just the right time, because god knows you can’t deal with this without at least some alcohol in you.

“Oh, I actually do have some business with you. Are you down to talk in private a bit later?”

“Why wait? Let’s talk now.” You’d rather just get it over with.

“It requires some preparation. Have to make a few calls and get some things here. I was going to put on a nice presentation in your office, but now’s a good as time as any!”

“Sounds good sir.”

What you wouldn’t give to just go home, take off these uncomfortable heels, and just face-plant on your soft bed right now. But nope, you have to wait around for this jack-ass to put on his little show. As much as he dismisses you, Kang Byung-hun is no idiot when it comes to business. Whatever his newest idea is, he knows Shin Investments is the best option for financing—especially in the bad state of the market right now.

So an hour before the party is supposed to end, you get a tap on your shoulder by Kang’s assistant, and promptly follow her to one of the spare rooms at the venue. Kang sits with a glass of champagne in hand, flashing a smile that you can’t stand. You take a seat across the circular table.

“We already exchanged pleasantries earlier, so I’ll just cut to the chase. I just got the patent for a new piece of revolutionary technology, and I’d like for Shin Investments to finance the project.”

“What type of technology are we talking?”

“How aware are you with the current market for hybrids, Y/N?”

You shrug nonchalantly. Honestly, the topic of hybrids makes you uncomfortable, as you think of it as unethical to own anything even remotely human, but you keep your personal preferences to yourself.

“I know it’s a booming industry, especially in the last three years. And I know the market is big for training tech right now.”

“Precisely!” He beams. “Training technology is in high demand. You saw how much of a hit the snake hybrid calming diffuser by Pet Armor was. Sold out in minutes! Not to mention raised the demand for snake hybrids in general. That’s when I knew I had to get in on the action and expand to the hybrid market.”

“So is that what it is? Is Pet Paradise launching its own diffuser? For a different type of hybrid?”

He shakes his head, “Nope. You know how I like to do things big, Y/N. A new hybrid diffuser is too small of a scale. What we’re creating will change the hybrid market forever.” He ends with a snap of his fingers, to which his assistant takes cue.

Before you can even process what’s going on, a leashed wolf hybrid is brought into the room.

Your attention immediately goes to the bulky metal collar around his neck, filled with buttons and stats.

“Meet Jungkook, one of the hybrids we’re beta-testing on. That magnificent thing around his neck is the Obedience Collar, and it’s going to blow your mind.”

You feel sick, dinner threatening to come up your throat the sight. The boy looks no older than twenty-one, and has more fear in his eyes than you thought possible. He’s trembling, eyes trained on the floor, trying to make himself small in the big room.

“Now, it’s no secret that wolf hybrids are amongst the hardest to train, that’s why they make the perfect subjects for this,” his assistant hands you an iPad as he talks, “first, I’d like for you to watch a video of Jungkook before he started wearing the Obedience Collar.”

You reluctantly click play, seeing the wolf hybrid with so much life in his eyes. Life and anger. He’s growling and punching his way through a team of researchers, thrashing around for his dear life.

“What a violent and unsophisticated creature he used to be!”

You have to consciously unclench your fists, making sure not to show your true feelings. It’s excruciating to sit there and listen when all you want to do is see how Kang would like it if a group of strangers got their hands on him like that.

“But now, with Pet Paradise’s newest invention, he’s the most timid little thing you could own!”

“A shock collar? Hybrid shock collars are already a thing, Mr.Kang.”

Your voice shakes slightly, and you hope no one notices.

“No no, that’s not what this is. A shock collar is a good training tool, of course, but it’s not the most efficient way to train a hybrid. If you swipe on that iPad, you’ll see the design of this collar is far advanced.”

So you hold your breath and swipe.

And whatever you’re expecting, it’s worse.

This isn’t a normal collar by any means, as proven by the product shots. The inside is lined with thin needles, which you can’t see as they are quite literally jammed into Jungkook’s neck right now.

Holy fuck.

“You see, Y/N, the Obedience Collar works from the inside. The collar is supplied with our newly developed synthetic hormones, which are injected into the bloodstream through the needles. The hormones are specifically structured to work with the DNA of most mammal hybrids, and can even make something as unruly as a wolf hybrid behave. The changes take effect within fifteen minutes of collaring! There’s a little hormone pack in the back of the collar,” he motions for Jungkook to turn around, and the boy obeys instantly, showing the rectangular box in the back of the collar, “those will need to be refilled every six months—which we’ll sell separately, so the business model is more than sustainable. Isn’t this a gold mine of an opportunity?”

Keep calm Y/N. Breathe. Compose yourself.

“Very impressive stuff,” you force out, “but I’m not sure Shin Investments is the right fit for this project. Wouldn’t you want a partner more familiar with the hybrid market?”

“Tsk tsk tsk, Y/N. What kind of venture capitalist is afraid of diversifying their portfolio? You can’t survive this industry if you only play in familiar territory—your grandfather and father both know this very well. Besides, I heard a rumor that the deal with Jun’s son won’t be going through. I’m sure the board members are having low morale right now…so why not appease them with an even better deal?”

You can’t stand the way he chastises you. What you can’t stand even more is that, from a business perspective, he’s making sense. You know a lucrative business when you see one, and this is definitely one of those. And as unintuitive as it seems, it’s all legal. Hybrid abuse isn’t really a thing the government concerns itself with, which is why the only real law is not to intentionally kill one, and even that is enforced loosely. There’s no rules being broken, no shady deals, just a proposal as legal as the meeting you had two days ago where a start-up pitched their new smart fridge. Except this time it’s not a smart fridge you’re discussing, it’s the life of a very scared and no doubt in pain hybrid, that’s standing less than five feet away from you.

Kang sees the gears in your head turning as you find any way to refuse this deal for a rational reason. So he starts playing his game of mind-chess once again, a game he’d mastered since before you were even born.

“Look, I’ll be frank with you. If you were any other woman, I wouldn’t even consider bringing this deal to you. Because we both know most women tend to be too emotional to do good business. But you’re not like that—hell, you’ve got more backbone than half the men at this party. So, what’s stopping you?”

There it was. The emotional card. The thing you were most concerned about, how showing even one ounce of emotion could be blown out of proportion because of your gender. You’ve worked too damn hard to create your reputation, and that’s why the next words out of your mouth spill before you can even think about it.

“You’re right, I was being too cautious. Let’s start with the proper procedures during work hours.”

Shit. He got you. Checkmate.

The man’s face erupts in the sleaziest grin possible.

“Perfect! You won’t regret this, it’s going to be big! In fact, I have one more surprise for you!”

You raise your brows, not needing anymore fucking surprises tonight.

“It’s Jungkook! He’s yours for the month!”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at that statement.

“Excuse me?!”

“It’s a token of our appreciation. You get to be the first ever person to own a hybrid with an Obedience Collar! You can see first-hand how remarkable the technology is. There’s five others from his pack that we can continue our tinkering on, so one less won’t hurt us. Don’t worry, the synthetic hormone part is fully developed, we’re just trying to make the collar look sleeker.”

It’s not uncommon nor unethical for you to be gifted prototypes. Businesses love giving you a taste of what you’re putting your money into, as a way to give you confidence in the product and maybe even open up possibilities for a bigger investment. But you’d never thought someone would give you a fucking hybrid.

You almost open your mouth to decline, saying something along the lines of not wanting the responsibility of a hybrid…but then something comes over you. You realize that declining means sending Jungkook back to the lab—and you just can’t bring yourself to do that. The damage you’re going to be doing by investing in this collar is going to be devastating as it is, no doubt making you the indirect torturer of many hybrids to come, but in some twisted sense of morality—you want to at least save the one in front of your eyes. Maybe even pretend that you have some good left in you.

“Thank you. I’d love to take him.”

___

The car ride back is silent and tense. Jungkook hasn’t said a single word, much less lifted his head to even look at you. He’s still trembling in the passenger seat. You have zero clue how to approach the situation. It’s not like you can take off the collar, as it’s a prototype with data still being transferred to the lab. You agreed to take him home to give him a better life, but you haven’t exactly thought far enough ahead as to how; judging by how scared he is right now, you know this isn’t going to be easy.

It's midnight when you reach home, and all you want to do is sleep. But you can’t yet, not until Jungkook is settled in. You lead him to a spare bedroom; it’s incredibly spacious and practically decorated for royalty, with a king-sized bed right in the center.

“This is where you’ll be staying.”

You see his head lift up for the first time, doe eyes scanning the room in disbelief.

“It’s late so we’ll talk more tomorrow, but for now sleep here. I don’t have nightclothes for you yet, so just sleep in what you’re wearing for the night. There are water bottles on the nightstand if you get thirsty. Do you need anything else before I head to bed?”

He adamantly shakes his head no, prompting you to exit. However, right as you’re about to walk out the door, you hear rumbling. More specifically, his stomach is rumbling. You turn back around.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

No response.

“If you’re hungry, you need to tell me.”

Those words seem to turn some gears in his head, as he utters his first words of the night.

“I’m hungry Miss.”

It catches you off guard how quickly he gets the words out, much different from the no-speaking rule he had enacted on himself up until now.

That’s when the realization hits you.

If you’re hungry, you need to tell me.

It sounds like a command, and that damn Obedience Collar is sure to make him comply.

You let out a defeated sigh before guiding him to the kitchen. Your cook has already called it a day, so you prepare one of the few things your tired brain can handle—frozen waffles. You toss them into a toaster, drizzle some syrup, and pile on a generous amount of whipped cream before pushing a plate in front of the awestruck boy.

“Eat up.”

With the eagerness in which he digs into the plate, you’re sure he’d be the same way without the direct command.

And that’s how your first night with Jungkook goes, with you making sure he’s fed and in his bed before heading to your own. You notice he’s trembling a little less. Baby steps.

____

A/N: If you're liking this fic, please let me know! I love and appreciate every interaction!

#bts ot7 x reader #hybrid bts #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #hurt/comfort #unnatural instincts

[billiedeansbitch]

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞 (𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰)

(𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

NEXT PART>>

Summary: The one where in Larissa sex life is no longer boring or Larissa took chance on a young shapeshifter who had a massive crush on her.

Warning/s: PORN WITH MASSIVE FEELINGS. G!P READER.

(Ao3 link)

Her thighs trembled, threatening to close around your head and her breath shook with every movement of your tongue against her hot, wet cunt, so soaked with her own arousal and your spit making it so easy for you to penetrate her hole.

“Darling, please.” She pleaded, her voice barely a whisper and her breath stuttered, her back arching off of her seat. “Please.” She repeated. The bucking her hips to receive more of that pleasure betrayed the hand that was pushing your head off from her cunt. She was overly stimulated, her pussy clenching tight around you as you fuck those fingers deep and hard into her, paying no mind to her pleas as your focus was zeroed on giving her the best pleasure you could give.

“One more, Larissa. Come for me one more time.” She shook her head, mouth falling open to protest but before she could get the words out, her own moans interrupted her, spilling out much louder this time. It was like throwing a tank of gasoline to an already blazing pit of fire. The way she breathlessly called for your name on repeat, her fingernails digging to your scalp and fisting your hair in a tight firm grip, oh, it fucking did it for you.

She watched you,  though she was struggling to keep her eyes open, as you finger her until she had tears rolling down her cheeks, “Darling, please, no more.” and the heel of her foot dug on your back, “No more? Oh, baby, but look at you. You really don’t want me to stop, do you?” It was easy to manipulate her body into coming for you for the fourth time. You almost groaned, feeling her body tensed beneath your fingertips. 

When you pulled, Weems could barely form a cognitive thought let alone move a muscle. Her legs, shaky.

Right there, still half naked with her thighs smeared with the proof of your worship, Larissa felt nothing but a limp doll: overused and overfucked.

It wasn’t like she was going to complain but she knew her body would give her hell the next day for all the stunts you both did in her office before moving back to her quarters and though there was one spacious bed, you insisted to fuck her on the couch with her back turned, kneeling, and holding for dear life on backrest while you took her from behind. You had one hand guiding her hip as they slammed right back to you and the other fisting her silver tresses.

She came faster in that position, and yours came mere seconds after, filling her pussy with so much cum it dripped down the insides of her thighs and onto the premium leather. 

Larissa’s knees were still flaming red after bearing her weight for the longest time you’ve fucked her but she was keen to ignore the pain and the visible bruising when she buried your face in her pussy to lap the juices that still leaked from her in retaliation of what you did to her. It was only right to clean up the mess you made and that was how you ended up where you were right now: in between her legs, grinning like cheshire cat with a cum-smeared face.

“Are you hungry? I’m hungry,” you stood up with a popping sound from both knees, “Jesus, how old does my body think I am?” 

Larissa kept her eyes fixated on your physique; shamelessly bare and sweaty, setting her on the edge of yet another urge to pounce on you like a woman starved. Whatever you were muttering went past her ears, her eyes lingered on your breasts down your soft belly before it dipped to the appendage hanging in between your legs. So fucking irresistible. To be honest, you could just stand there and do nothing and Larissa might just have her fifth. Good Lord, what are you turning her into? Some sex-crazed bitch.

She’d been thinking less with her head and more with her cunt and honestly she couldn’t blame herself if you looked like that.

Larissa bit her lip, unable to resist the tempting visual before her. 

From the floor, you picked up your shirt and slid it over your head and straightened it out around the torso. “I’m gonna go out and get us somethin’ to eat.”  next were the pair of sweats, drawing the strings tight before you made a knot to secure it in place. 

“Hmm?” she mindlessly hummed, watching you tuck the strings inside the waistband.

“Food. I’m gonna go get us some food, you craving something in particular?”

“No...” Her mind still clouded with post-sex haze that much was clear.

“How about fish and chips? I heard lots of good things about the newly opened business just ‘round the corner.”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay, I’ll be back in… say half an hour?”

When Larissa snapped from whatever incantation you put her, you were already grabbing your keys and a couple of bills to shove them right in your pocket.

She smiled when you walked up to her and kissed her cheek, “I’ll be as fast as I can. Go shower while I’m gone and then maybe we can watch a movie while we eat, yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan, sweetheart.”

You were about to pull but she was quick enough to catch the neckline of your shirt and drew you closer, pecking your lips one more time. “What if we both shower together? it will be quick I promise.”

“As tempting as you may be, I need to feed my woman, she gets grumpy and blames me when she’s hungry.”

With one last peck, you were out of the door, grinning and humming to the last song that was stuck in your head.

–

The mirror reflected a blurred image of her, right where she stood in front of the sink wrapped in her robe ready to pick up her toothbrush when suddenly Larissa took notice of how there were two in the holder: one for her and one for you. She took hers, put some toothpaste and started brushing her teeth.

Larissa leaned her lower back on the sink, and took her time to look around her. Two claw clips, two robes, two towels, two different mouthwash (you claim hers was too minty for you so you brought your own) there were always sets of two anywhere she looked around not that she mind that. 

She spit the foam and rinsed her mouth. When she walked in her bedroom, she saw the little trinkets you left on the left bedside table, more hair clips, elastic ponytail, your little lighter, the keys to your apartment, even your phone was there. Your side of the bed was unmade and she could see fallen hair strands on the pillow case where it was still dented in the middle from the last time you laid there. 

You had made your mark everywhere and she could feel her heart leapt to her throat.

Tomorrow would mark six months of your ongoing little arrangement with her and yes sex was good—well, actually, it was the best. Larissa had never felt the real pleasure of fingers and mouth until you came alone and shattered her years of boring sex life. She no longer needed to make a trip to the store in the middle of the night to buy batteries because her vibrator died in the middle of chasing her orgasm.

Fuck, you were too good for your own good sometimes and after making her come in the first five minutes of touching the first night, she knew she needed to keep your around.

She was still dressed in her robe and drying her hair when you came back. 

“Oh God, I’m starving. I need my calories now.”

While you put the take outs on the coffee table she went to grab a bottle red and two mugs. 

From the kitchen she still had a nice view of the living room, and she watched you with a starved look as you removed your hoodie, your shirt lifting up in the process. Oh, yes, she’d have her dessert later.

“If you were to undress me at least do it with your hands and not your eyes.” Larissa’s face visibly turned red, “And let me eat first then I’ll let you pounce on me.” You chuckled, shoving fries into your mouth.

–

On Monday morning, the woman was greeted with a massive file of work she had to go through, she meant to bring these home for the weekend but her plans went in a different direction when you called asking her if you could steal her for some late lunch at the restaurant nearby the campus.

When you both returned though Larissa wasn’t ready to let you go, she pulled you and locked her office before crashing your lips together, your hands bunching the skirt up around her waist and slipping your hand inside her underwear. You ended up pressing her on the wall, too impatient to even wait to settle down somewhere comfortable. With her legs spread and facing the wall, your hips pressing to her backside and her lustful eyes only intensified when she felt the growing bulge until it was hard and poking, begging to feel the softness of her cunt, to be swallowed deep and to cum inside.

With her underwear pulled down around her gorgeous claves, you took her with long deep strokes, face buried on the crook of her neck.

Her face went red recalling what happened that whole afternoon, how you both couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. She hadn’t been with anyone in a long time and it embarrassed her how the briefest touch of your hands to her thighs, or the whispers on her ears calling her pretty or hot had her panties always in twist…and on the floor.

She sighed, sitting down on the fine leather seat and started working. 

Maybe if she got it done early she’d call you. 

–

Larissa, however, was consumed by her work, forgetting other things that didn’t exist within the walls of her office. By the time she had a moment to herself after signing and writing corresponding emails and polishing her report for the upcoming board meeting, it was already four in the afternoon, her lunch was barely touched sitting in the corner of her desk.

The woman sighed, pushing her seat a little away from her desk and reached for her phone. She raised a brow seeing there were no text messages or even a single missed call from you. 

Usually there was at least one message waiting for her but today, there was none. She felt a pinch in her heart. No, no, she shouldn’t, she was not entitled to be upset, you weren’t her girlfriend. You two were just fucking around and maybe lately you had became a little too affectionate, blurring whatever rules you both had agreed on. Larissa felt like it was her fault, she let herself be enamoured, let herself to be too vulnerable for you. She let herself be comfortable. 

Rule number one: Never be too comfortable.

Well fuck.

It was another two hours more of work when eventually her body screamed for comfort and some proper meal. She switched the lights off and locked her office, calling it a day. 

—

When she arrived and put her car into park, her heart dropped. The lights were on and her front door was unlocked. It would have been wise to call the authorities immediately but she felt like this wasn’t an attempt to rob her. She slowly and gently pushed the door open, tiptoeing past the threshold but then the floorboards creaked.

“‘Rissa, is that you?” It was you. She knew your voice from every pitch no matter the distance. It was also impossible that she might be dreaming about this.

And before she had time to pinch herself, she heard the unmistakable padding of your feet across the floor as you approached her, and then there you were, in the flesh, right before her eyes. “Baby, hi…” all the anger and stress she felt within the day all subsided as a tender, sweet smile welcomed her. 

You had a spatula in one hand, and you were wearing one of her old Nevermore shirts. Her brow raised at the lack of underpants but that wasn’t her main concern at the moment so she willed herself to look up.

You then stepped closer to kiss her cheek, your freehand grasping on her arm as you stood on your toes trying to reach for her. 

“Okay lady you gotta bend down so I can reach you and don’t tease me about shifting. I'm too lazy and tired to do that.” 

Her body listened, bending down she felt your lips. “I hope you don’t mind, I used the spare key you gave me. I know I should at least let you know but I have a problem…”

“You’re here.” she mumbled, still in a state of shock.

“I am. I wanted to see you and I’m sorry I know, like I said I should have texted you first but my phone fell in the bath yesterday. I was taking some nasty shots for you but it slipped. I put in a bowl of rice in an attempt to salvage it but it was helpless. I hope you didn’t think I was ignoring you.”

“N-no, no, of course not.” You almost broke my heart.

“Good because I would never do that. Ever.” You kissed her light on the lips, merely brushing your lips together with no indicated force. Larissa felt herself quickly melting away in your touch. 

“I was going to call you at work but I don’t remember your number. Sorry.”

“And you drove all the way from the city just to tell me this?”

“Yes and I’d have to drive back again in the morning because I obviously have work but…yeah, I drove all the way just to tell you this and I cooked dinner and cleaned your house.”

Larissa felt like you were rambling too much so to cut you out of your own misery, she pulled you into a kiss, a long deep one with both hands cupping your face making you gasp before you were able to reciprocate.

—

Larissa could still feel the ache in between her thighs as she sat in the toilet. It was eleven in the evening and you were currently passed out in her bed, audibly snoring. She might have fucked you too hard, all of the frustrations were channeled in the way she took you and rode your lap resulting on multiple orgasms and it wasn’t like you were stopping her.

When she finished cleaning her hands and was ready to go to bed, something struck her in the midst of exiting the bathroom…her period two was weeks delayed. 

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems imagine #principal larissa weems #larissa weems #gwendoline christie imagines #larissa x reader #gwendoline christie #larissa weems smut #Some g!p action #smutty smut smut #Finally my thoughts has turned into a written fic #billiedeansbitch

[sunflowersteves]

hey love!! if you're still taking miggy requests, can I request Miguel and short reader? (like 5ft)

He's being his usual grumpy self, but every time he sees them clambering on the counter to reach something high up or grabbing a chair to reach a high place, his stern expression just breaks and he usually covers his face to hide his amusement.

He also teases them for being short and if their romantically involved he definitely uses his height to his advantage to make them weak in the knees /.\

Or whatever you come up with it! 💕

Thank you!

tarren my love, i squealed when i saw u requested something of miguel. as a five foot zero inches girly pop, i was MADE to make this fic

warnings || reader is short, height differences, fluff, making out

masterlist

Miguel let out a long sigh as he closed the door to your shared apartment. It was well into the evening—11:45 pm, as it read on the clock, to be exact.

He could feel the rage and anger that still sizzled through his veins. Today was hard. Today was a shit-tastic day and was full of fuck ups upon fuck ups.

So, he probably slammed the door much louder than he anticipated. The sound made you jump in the kitchen, startled by the booming sound.

You were so engrossed with checking the oven that you hadn’t even looked up at the clock in over an hour. A smile slowly crept up onto your cheeks, though. You knew that particular sound.

“In here, baby.” You called. Your voice echoed across the apartment, and it seemed to put him into a trance.

He slowly sauntered into the spacious kitchen. He could almost feel how all of his ire had prodded its way through every single step he was taking.

It felt heavy. All of it felt so heavy.

He walked through the doorframe, huffing out a breath, and then immediately stopped in his tracks at the sight his eyes took in.

You had been baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies before he got home. It was supposed to be a surprise—and supposed to be done—but you had forgotten one ingredient.

Salt. You always put extra flakey sea salt on top of the gooey chocolate cookies. Then, to your dismay, the salt that you had needed was unfortunately on the very tippy top of the biggest cabinet in the kitchen. You were on the highest part of your tippy toes, and an arm stretched out as far as it could reach.

Miguel’s entire anger dissolved at that very second. You gave out a quick huff before stretching out your fingers just a little bit more.

Unfortunately for you, you didn’t grow any inches.

Miguel smiled. He turned his head, and he smiled. His lips curled at your continuous attempts to reach the salt.

It was so fucking cute. He swore his heart could burst. Little did you know that you were the only one that could truly do this to him. He had to turn his head to look away from you before he burst out laughing.

“Let me get that.”

You could feel him hover behind you. His tall stature sent shivers down your spine. Your head didn’t even reach the middle of his pecks, and god, did he relish this.

He loved the way your body curled up against his—so small and so perfect. He loved the way your hand just about fit his palm (he might have been a bit dramatic, here, but still).

He pressed his chest up against your body. You gasped at the full pressure of his chest and hardened stomach up against your back. His arm followed your own, and his hand brushed up against your fingers. Your whole body felt like it was going to catch on fire. You were so sure.

“I’ve always got you, sweet thing.” He says before swiftly taking the salt down.

“Thank you, baby.” You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You were too dazed to do anything for just a moment. As if knowing that, he smirked.

“Next time, I’ll just get the stool.” You say more to yourself. God, he was so distracting. It was insane.

He scoffed. He was not going to tell you that he had gotten rid of all of the stools and ladders in the apartment. “Why need a stool when you have me?”

~

“Should we go to bed, baby?” You ask after finishing the last cookie you had set aside. Miguel’s favorite was always right after they came out of the oven. He liked them hot and gooey.

His eyes locked with yours. “I don’t know, sweet thing. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the thought. “What do you mean?”

Before you could even finish your sentence, Miguel is standing up. With habit, you’re standing upright with him.

He just smirks. He knew you’d follow him.

He immediately towers over you—dominating—and staring intensely into your eyes. “You missed something when I got home.”

You blinked. You blinked again. Your mind was blank.

You open your mouth to respond, but he’s quickly crowding your space. Your mouth quickly snapped closed, and your breath shallowed at how large he is.

Now, he’s pushing you, ever so slowly, to the nearest wall. “You forgot to greet me with a kiss, hmm?” He chuckled darkly into your ear. “How could you forget?”

He takes your wrists and traps them against his large hands, and places them above your head. He pressed hot, wet kisses on your jaw and they start to lean down to your neck.

“Look at you. I haven’t even said anything, and you’re already a puddle.” You open your mouth again, but nothing can come out.

Your mind is blank, and all thoughts and feelings are rushing about the man in front of you. He was just so tall.

His lips crashed against your own and it took all of the breath out of your lungs. His tongue swirled against your own, and his hand squeezed the base of your wrist.

Your lips molded against one another as he nipped and sucked. It was heavenly. He was heavenly as his body seemed to press further into you and the wall.

He bit against your lip and pulled back, but before you could even react with a small moan, his lips are back onto yours in full force. His smooth lips caressing each and every part of you.

Suddenly, his lips disconnect from yours. He takes a good look at you and smiled. You were entirely kiss-drunk on him. Your lips were swollen. Your chest was heaving up and down. Your eyes were completely hazy.

It was a sight to see.

“Let’s get ready for bed, querida, yeah?” Your body was screaming at you for letting his arms detangle from your body.

His whole form sauntered off, and you were left there by yourself, flushed up against the wall. Your chest heaved up and down—reeling in the feeling of his body pressed up against yours.

You never wanted that feeling to go away.

“Yeah. Bed.” You whispered—the biggest smile spreading across your cheeks. Every night, his large arms wrapped around your shoulders and stomach. You would sleep like that all night.

“Bed sounds good.”

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel o'hara fluff #spiderman 2099 fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #across the spiderverse fanfiction #across the spiderverse

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 40

part 1 | part 39 | ao3

They're lying on their backs, Steve's head on Eddie's shoulder, Eddie running absent-minded fingers through Steve's hair. Led Zeppelin plays on low from the radio beside them, and the conversation ebbs and flows in sleepy bursts of disjointed thought. Talking just to talk. Because they like it; because they can.

"...Did you see Wheeler almost eat shit in the paint aisle this morning?"

"We should paint some stars on my ceiling. Make 'em glow in the dark..."

"God, what I would not give for more pizza."

"Who even eats cold pizza?"

Eddie shifts beneath him after a while, sitting up to bounce his legs and get the blood flowing again. With his weight leaned back on his hands, Steve can't help but notice the long line of his torso. Everything on display through the thin undershirt: the smattering of dark ink, the outline of his ribs, the cut of his slim waist. Steve wants to touch him.

"You know," Eddie says, surveying the empty room, the vinyl glinting in the lamp light, "it's really not half bad for a bunch of kids who thought they were gonna be hanging ornaments all day." He knocks his knee against Steve's leg. "I'd say you're well on your way to making this mobile house a mobile home."

Steve snorts at that, and Eddie pinches playfully at his side until the snort turns into a really undignified laugh and Steve rolls in on himself, curling toward Eddie, begging for mercy.

"You want to tell me what brought all this on?" Eddie asks. His voice is quiet and welcoming, eyes sparkling with some gentle offer of reprieve. The first rest stop sign after a hundred mile stretch of empty road.

Steve's mouth works; opens and closes and opens again, like it'll prompt his voice to sound or his brain to figure out the words. He still doesn't know how to explain — the fear, the paranoia, the way this place was starting to cling to him like black mold. "Just..." he shrugs. "Needed it, I guess."

Eddie gives him a long look. Unwavering and piercing; there's more pus in the wound that he's trying to lance, but he doesn't seem interested in drawing blood tonight.

He releases Steve from his gaze and goes back to his casual stretching — rolling his neck, popping his shoulders, shaking out his legs, his ankles, his feet — and then he gasps "Steve!" in a delighted tone that Steve does not care for at all. Usually means he’s about to get teased within an inch of his life.

"Hmm?" Steve lifts his head to look.

Eddie’s wiggling his right foot, drawing attention to the outer edge of his borrowed sock. "Is that a hole I see?"

Steve follows his line of sight, and sure enough, there's the smallest little tear by Eddie's pinky toe. “Oh, fuck off,” Steve rolls his eyes, “you can barely even see that.”

Eddie spreads his toes out wide, making the hole more obvious. "My, my, my,” he tuts, shaking his head with a big, disappointed sigh.

"You're such an asshole,” Steve mutters. Eddie's beaming; Steve flips him off.

"Well congrats, baby boy,” he drawls like a fucking pest, “now you're officially trailer trash."

"Hey!" Steve’s not sure if he likes that. Makes him blush to his ears; makes something sour roll in his gut.

Unfortunately it also kind of makes his dick twitch.

"Oh?" Eddie leers. His eyes dart to Steve's crotch, and then he shifts so he's hovering over Steve with Steve flat on his back, face on fire, pulse kicking hard. A vein throbs in his inner thigh. "Don't worry, Stevie." Eddie bends to nip at his jaw. "I meant it as a compliment."

"How is that a compliment?" Steve wants to sound annoyed. Is annoyed. But Eddie's skimming a light hand up his side, barest pressure that leaves a trail of tingling warmth in its wake, so the words come out more breathy than he intends.

"Because," Eddie whispers. Steve can feel his smile pressed against his skin. Eddie kisses up his jawline until he reaches his ear; mouths at the lobe and sucks it between his teeth, a sharp bite that makes Steve hiss. "All my favorite things are."

Steve bucks under him. "Trash?" he asks, breath catching.

Eddie's tongue traces his ear. "Mhmm."

His hand wanders to the hem of Steve's shirt, worming his fingers underneath, tickling the trail of hair below Steve’s belly button as he explains that all his favorite things are second-hand. Recycled and discarded items he’s restored with loving care.

Steve’s breath goes harsh and ragged, and he tries not to think about how that might apply to him.

Discarded.

Restored.

Favorite.

Maybe even—

He can’t let himself think the word.

—

part 41!

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #my fic

[lovingmattysposts]

You don't know me 17

P1 P2 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8 P9 P10 P11 P12 P13 P14 P15 P16 P17 P18 P19 P20 P21 P22 P23 P24 P25 P26 P27 P28 P29 P30 P31 P32

pairing: y/n and chris sturniolo

summary: you and chris came from two different sides of the spectrum when it came to the social scale. You had the perfect life, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect parents, but when you start to peal back that layers things got messy. Your life was set and stone, your future was set and stone. That was until he comes and changes everything.

warnings: MENTIONS OF BEING ROOFIED! panic attacks, mentions of therorectically being taken advantaged of (Not in detail it doesn't actually happen!!!), mentions of a funeral and losing a loved one, mentions of death.

Something was wrong, really wrong. I felt like I had just drank an entire bottle of vodka but not a drop ever touch my lips. My vision was going in and out, but I was approaching Chris’s house.

Focus.

Just focus.

I closed my eyes to regain my sense of vision before shaking my head and taking a breath. I walked up to the gate before pushing it open. Friday night? Chris had to be outside by the fire.

I stumbled into the backyard before glancing around. The fire wasn’t lit and there was no sign of Chris. “Fuck” I felt my eyes water. I’d walked all the way here and there was no way I could walk all the way back.

I took a breath falling into one of the chairs by the unlit fire. I put my elbows on my knees and pressed my face against my hands.

Why do I feel like this?

Why can’t I focus?

Why do I feel plastered?

Something’s was wrong.

Where’s Chris?

I felt the tears burn at my eyes as I lifted my head. I leaned back looking towards the woods behind his house and I froze.

His place.

I stood up before walking towards the woods. He had to be there, where no one would find him. I just hope he’s okay.

I pushed into the woods, dodging branches and leaves and I walked. Just trying to push them out of the way, but I felt one scrape my arm, drawing blood.

“Fuck” I cursed as I looked down at my arm, moving my finger over the cut. I looked up to the clearing. Chris’s long shaggy hair hung low as he looked off to the stream.

I swallowed as I stepped forward. I looked down at him, slightly relieved that he was here. But also a burning in my chest thinking, Why didn’t he come?

“Chris?” My weak voice spoke. He didn’t speak as he looked down. I just stared at him before loosing my footing slightly but regaining my balance.

That caught his attention.

He glanced up at me.

I blinked down at him. “Why didn’t you come?” I whispered looking down at him. He just looked at me. “You’re drunk” He stated looking back down at his feet. I blinked at him.

I wasn’t drunk, I hadn’t had a sip of an alcohol the entire night. I sat down next to him. “I told you I don’t drink” I mumbled as I looked off the the stream, blinking, it slightly going blurring.

He stayed silent next to me as I waved in and out of consciousness, blinking over and over just trying to focus. He mumbled something next to me.

“Y/n?” His voice rang. My head turned and I raised my eyebrows. “You aren’t even listening” He mumbled shaking his head. I swallowed feeling tears weld at my eyes.

“Chris, I’m-I’m trying” I said shaking my head looking at him. He didn’t know how hard I was trying. It took every last drop of energy to get here. Focusing on what he was saying when I felt like I was going to pass out was making me panic.

And I didn’t know why.

I placed my hand to my chest.

“Chris” I whispered. He glanced over to me. I swallowed.

“Something’s wrong” My voice broke

Chris pov

“Something’s wrong” Her small voice cracked. I stayed looking at her as her vision was trained in front of her, her hand pressed to her chest. I just stared at her.

She closed her eyes whining.

“Y/n? What’s wrong? Did you take something?” I asked quickly seeing she wasn’t kidding. Something was definitely wrong. She shook her head as she squeezed her eyes shut.

“—Can’t see” she choked her eyes fluttering.

My fight or flight mode struck agaisnt me.

“She’s dead”

I stared at her dad in the face. Not moving, not blinking, not thinking. My mom’s arms came around me. I just stared at Rose’s dad’s teary eyes.

“Overdose” He choked. I didn’t feel it, but I felt wetness against my cheek indicating I was crying, but I couldn’t feel anything. I felt like I couldn’t even feel the oxygen trying to come through in my lungs.

My eyes glanced over to the hospital doors. The hospital that layed the dead body of my girlfriend. And there was nothing I could do.

I’d never felt so broken or so helpless in my life.

“You-You didn’t drink anything? Take any pills? Anything?” I said grabbing her shoulders. She whined as her body fell limp against mine.

“Y/n, answer me” I said loudly as I shook her shoulders as her head moved back and forth. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“Sprite” She mumbled her eyes closing. I shook my head looking at her. “Y/n, k-keep your eyes open for me. Please.” I said my eyes filling with tears.

She mumbled incoherently to me, her arms falling limp. “Sprite that’s it? That’s all you had?” I questioned, holding her up. She whined as she laid there, helpless.

That’s when it hit me.

She was roofied.

My veins lit on fire.

My jaw hardened.

“Y/n, who gave you the sprite?” I said down at her. She looked as if she was asleep. She hummed. I took in a breath before standing up and then bending down and picking her up in my arms.

She whined and pressed her face into my chest. I held her close to me as we walked out from the woods.

I could feel her breaths against me. It made me feel better knowing she was just out of it, but alive. I hugged her closer to me as the thoughts ran through my head.

“Didn’t come” She mumbled. I looked down at her. “What?” I whispered. “The one person I wanted” She whispered. I swallowed as guilt ran down my veins.

I hated my mind. It was one of things I hated most about myself, along with the long list of other things. I hated the way I acted, I hated the things that I said, the way I acted. The way I let my mind consume me. All of it.

I just didn't think I could have handled knowing that she loved me while seeing her with someone else. It would have killed me. It would have made me do things I regret.

Last night after the painful walk home knowing that it was starting again. The horrible gut wrenching game of love.

Two people falling in love, it's suppose to be beautiful. It's suppose to be the happiest time in your life, but it never was for me. Love had never bought me anything but pain.

My heart was too big, my heart would get to into it. I would put my soul into the person I love, whether they knew it or not. In one case, Rose knew it. She knew it all too well. In this case, she doesn't. Y/n doesn't know. The last thing I possibly wanted to do was tell her.

I hated the situation I was in. I absolutely hated it. Sleeping alone every single night staring up at ceiling, wondering when she was going to break up with him. Knowing there was someone else, was something my mind wasn't prepared for.

I thought I was. Looking into her eyes as she peered up at me, kissing me like I was the only one. Was enough for me to rule out the sleepless nights and heart wrenching questions, just to have her.

The worst part about it was if I could go back, I would agree to it over and over and over.

That's what I hated most about myself.

I pushed my backdoor open, her in my arms as we walked through the living room. I thanked the lord that my grandpa wasn't sleeping on the chair in the living room tonight, because I had no idea how I was suppose to explain this one.

I sighed as I walked down the hallway and into my room, pushing the door open. She whined in my arms and twitched around. I looked down at her scrunched face. She lunged forwards slightly. Shit.

I pushed my bathroom door open, placing her onto her feet, but her knees bent and she fell against the ground. "Shit Y/n" I said I grabbed her arm before her head hit the ground.

She started to gag again before lunching forwards starting to throw up

She clenched forwards grabbing the toilet before throwing up lifelessly against it, slightly missing it and puking on herself. I swallowed as I pulled her hair back.

I was deathly afraid of throw up.

I turned my head as she puked, breathing in. She groaned leaning back before falling against me, as if she barley had control over her limps. I froze as she laid on me, I closed my eyes.

She started to cry which made me open my eyes.

"I hate-" She mumbled. I blinked down at her. "You hate what?" I whispered. Tears streamed down her cheeks. "My life" She cried. My heart broke as I looked at her. Her makeup, once perfectly done, now smeared across her face. On her birthday.

I felt a lump in my throat.

Focus.

"Y/n, I have to get you out of these clothes" I whispered pushing her hair behind her face. She let out a breath, unable to move. I grabbed the bottom of her shirt before lifting it off her head, careful not to get any of the puke on me or on her.

I threw the shirt in the trashcan in my bathroom as she started to shake from the cold air around us. I hooked my arms under legs as I stood up and carried her out of the bathroom. She didn't react, didn't move as I carried her.

I laid her across my bed, and her head fell back and her arms laid lifeless.

I looked down at my feet.

Imagines of Rose's funeral shot through my head. I took in a breath as I sat down next to her. I shook my head as I placed my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath as tears filled my eyes.

She looked like Rose. As lifeless as she was.

I shook my head trying to focus, trying to wipe the horrible thoughts from my brain but I couldn't breathe. My breathing was in and out and I was way too aware of my heartbeat.

Y/n's okay.

She's breathing.

She's alive.

She's not going to die, Chris.

But I couldn't even look at her.

The worst realization of the night was this moment. Because I knew that losing Y/n would feel the same as it felt to lose Rose. That scared me more than realizing that I was in love with her.

I wiped my face.

You're stronger than this Chris. You're stronger than your thoughts. You need to calm down, breathe. I stood up walking over to my desk before pulling out a pill bottle and pulling it open.

I hadn't needed this in a while. The panic attacks don't come as often anymore. Not since the first year moved here. I pulled out a pill and swallowed it, leaning against the desk just trying to calm down.

I hated taking these, they made me tired. They numbed me, but I guess that was a better feeling than feeling like my heart was going to beat out of my chest.

I took in a breath holding it in for a few seconds, like my therapist taught me all those years ago. The one my parent's sent me to before they gave up and sent me to live with my grandpa. I let it out.

This can't be happening right now, you need to be helping Y/n.

Like you couldn't do with Rose.

I looked up at the ceiling. No, no, no. Don't think like that. You're stronger than these thoughts. Control them.

"Chris"

I snapped my head towards the bed. Y/n was turning over, her eyes closed. I walked over to the bed. "Yeah?" My voice broke. She swallowed. "Cold" She cried. I blinked at her before nodding.

Chris fucking focus.

"Okay" I swallowed leaning over her. "I'm gonna get you changed okay?" I said looking down at her face. She let out a breath and nodded. I nodded back as I leaned down to her feet, pulling off her shoes.

What would have happened if she didn’t come here?

I clenched my jaw as the thoughts ran through my head of the possibilities as she laid unmoving beneath me.

The thought of someone taking advantage over her made the panic attack fade away and anger run cold through my veins.

I looked up at her. "I'm gonna take your jeans off and get you some sweatpants and a sweatshirt is that okay?" I asked softly. She hummed, her eyes remaining closed. I tried to shake the angry thoughts.

I hated that this happened, but it always did. Every single emotion I've ever felt always turned into anger. I reached up unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them down. She barley moved.

"If anyone ever hurt you I would put them six feet in the ground" I said quietly. She didn't respond, as I pulled her jeans off. I stood up walking over to my drawers and pulling out a pair of my sweatpants and a sweatshirt before walking back over to her.

I reach down, wiping the mascara under her eyes, she didn't react. I sighed as I pushed the sweatshirt over her head and pulled it over her body. She hummed and hugged her arms together.

I moved her legs before pulling the sweatpants over her body and pulled the covers down and pulled her legs under them, before pulling the covers up to her chin.

She rubbed her head against the pillow as her mouth fell open and breathed softly. I just watched her as she so easily drifted into her sleep. I moved my hand over her head softly.

"Why did you have to fall in love with me too?" I whispered softly.

Y/n pov

I groaned as I woke up. Wow, I feel awful. My mouth tatses--

I froze when I saw a pair of blue eyes staring down at me. My body stiffened when I realized where I was. I swallowed as I glanced down to my clothes. Not my clothes. I looked up at him.

His knees pulled to his chest, staring down at me with dark bags under his eyes. Saying nothing. I sat up and rubbed my eyes.

"Who gave you the sprite?”

I glanced up at him and furrowed my eyebrows. "How did I-"

"Y/n" He stated cutting me off, his eyes boring into mine. I swallowed. "Who gave you---" He said raising his eyebrows. "The sprite" He finished coldly. I swallowed as memories of last night washed over me.

"There are bruises on your neck" He stated. My hand came over the sore skin around my neck. I felt my hand start to shake. "Chris" I breathed shaking my head. He just stared down at me with an expression I couldn't read.

I swallowed looking at him.

He knew the answer.

He pursed his lips and nodded before sitting up and standing off the bed, grabbing his keys. I jumped forward grabbing his arm. "Chris, don't" I cried, pulling him back. He shook me off as he marched towards his door.

I ripped the covers off of me as the door slammed harshly.

I ran after him and caught him halfway down the hall, pulling him back. He turned and looked at me.

"Chris I don't know that it was him" I lied looking at him. He stared at me. "Don't lie to me" He said harshly. I swallowed shaking my head. "You lie him, you don't lie to me" Chris said shaking his head. I pulled his arm, backing up.

"Can we just talk about this please?" I said my eyes filling with tears. He blinked at me. "Please don't hurt him" I whispered. He looked down at his feet.

"If you hurt him, he's gonna hurt me" I said softly. He closed his eyes and swallowed. "I'm not gonna sit here and not do anything" He said looking up at me. I bit my lip and looked off to the side.

"Why didn't you come?" I asked looking back at him. He stared at me. "That's what you're worried about? Why I didn't go to your party? Not the bruises around you neck and the fact that your boyfriend fucking roofied you?" He yelled at me.

I stepped forward wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him into me. He froze under my touch. "I need you to just let this go okay?" I said my eyes filling with tears. "I need you to just be here please. I don't wanna talk about what happened. I don't wanna remember it, i just want it to go away. Chris I need you to let his go" I whispered against him.

His chin fell against my shoulder as I held him, but he didn't hug me back.

"Do you love him?" He whispered against me. I closed my eyes and swallowed.

"I don't think love's suppose to feel like this" I choked back a sob. He sighed as he pulled me against him. I almost fell completely against him. "Why didn't you come?" I whispered against his shoulder.

He sighed as he buried his face into my hair, letting go of a breath.

"I don't wanna talk about it" He mumbled. I swallowed before nodding as we just stood in the empty hallway, two empty people with broken hearts trying their best to fix everything that was broken inside of them.

fucking long ass tag list: @sleepysturnss @frankdelreyy @ahastrns @lavie627 @bernardstrombonixx @creamoncreamoncream2 @sturniolossmut @sturniololol @chrisstopherfilmed @l9vesick @sturvoblur @7tee3n @stylesnsturnz @nick2thick @chrizzypooks @sturniolosmind @m4tthewsgf @lookingatsab @mattscokewhore @lovergirl4387 @fake-sturniolos @theweeknd-fan @leahdsullivan00 @3iysian @angelworldspost @user25701874 @niastqrniolo @sturnnai @christinarowie332 @sturniofilmd @lexisecretaccx @sturnioloslife @rosiegirl80 @miastromboli @st7rn @sophie21153-blog @poopiannrose @jindoritheworld @pinkpearlsrry @justaslvttygirl @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @bernardenjoyer @livluvschris @mattestrella @erodaangel

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo

[repulsiveliquidation]

Fire and Ice

Alexia Putellas x Reader [SMUT!]

um, based on this ask. i couldn't stop thinking about it so here's a little thing i've whipped up when i really should be sleeping. anyway, enjoy!

“what do we have here?” you say, looking down at a tied-up and blindfolded Alexia Putellas sitting prettily at the foot of the bed. She whines, licking her lips as you circle her. she’s naked, arms tied behind her back just tight enough for her to want to put up a fight.

You drag a finger over her cheek, nail lightly scratching her face. she gasps and melts into the floor a little, knees giving way. Alexia feels the black rope burn her a little as she squirms, ears strained and lips searching for you as you tease her into the second hour of a scene.

You lean down to her ear, nibbling on the shell before licking around the outside. Alexia moans too loud for such a simple act, her senses incredibly heightened after being teased, in actuality, for days. She’d been a downright brat since being cleared to be on her feet and back to her normal self since the exploratory surgery on her ACL leg, teasing and being a fucking whore any chance she got.

First, it was the teasing in bed. Kisses in the morning to wake you for training, only to leave you in bed to ‘hurry for rehab’.

Then it was the half-finished showers after you both got home from training and rehab. Suggestive touches and not-so-innocent fondling before she rushed out claiming to have a media schedule she forgot about.

The last straw was her trying to leave, mid-fuck while being uninterested the whole time, to meet María and Ingrid for lunch at their house. You called them and canceled, bringing you to your current situation.

“Please, mi amor…”

“What for Alexia? You did this to yourself, darling.”

“I need you, I’ve needed you the whole week…” she whines, huffing loudly when she feels you stand up and walk away. She knows you’ve left the room as your footsteps diminish out the door. She hears the rummaging clear as day, before the distinct click-clacking of your heels as you walk back into the room.

“Where did you go?”

“I’ve got a little treat for you, my girl. I think you’ll like this one.”

You pull off the blindfold and she blinks hard to adjust to the light. You’ve got a glass of ice in your hand and a smirk on your face. she puts two and two together, heart pounding hard in her chest.

“No, no please…” she begs, shuffling back before meeting the bedpost.

“Oh yes, Alexia. On the bed, that’s a good girl.”

You help her up and settle her on her knees, the ropes around her making her a little unstable but the perfect doll to use how you want. This is, after all, what she was craving from you; you were merely fulfilling her wishes.

She shudders, the cold air from the room hitting her dripping folds. Her neck strains as she tries to look back at you and watch when you get an idea. You leave her, walking over to the full-length mirror, and position it where she has a perfect view of both you and her.

She looks up at you with glassy eyes, puckering her lips for a much-needed kiss. You oblige, leaning in and giving her a searing kiss. She melts again, smiling into the bed when you let her go and slip behind her once again.

You pick up an ice cube, clenching it in your fist to melt it a little before holding it over her asshole to drip onto. She cries out, flinching at the cold water and the hard shudder that erupts through her body. You take the ice cube and rub it over her folds slowly. It's cold but worth all the sounds that Alexia lets out, her little whines and whimpers are music to your ears.

The ice cube melts and drips everywhere, so you take another and slip it into your mouth. You swirl it around and cool your mouth, before kneeling behind Alexia and slurping at her clit. She cries out your name and desperately tries to hold onto something, letting out a frustrated growl when the restraints burn her skin a little.

You spread her wide open, much to her embarrassment to see in the mirror, and slurp coldly at her pussy like it’s your last meal. She can only bite the sheets, tears forming in her beautiful amber eyes.

“Crying already, bebé?” you tease, caressing her ass as the last bit of the ice cube melts down your throat tasting much like your girlfriend. You take another, standing up this time. She likes this part and you know it, hands paying more attention to her ass to signal to her what you’re about to do next.

“Ready, Ale?”

“Sí.”

“Remember your safeword, mi vida?”

“Sí, mariposa.”

“Perfect, my beautiful girl.”

You take the now much smaller ice cube and slip it over her asshole. She gasps and grins, knees opening wider as she sinks into the bed. You rub her clit to give her a little bit of a distraction as she gets used to the sensations, the ice cube steadily melting over her asshole.

You gently nudge it into her, her second hole opening up so easily for it to merely slip in. You groan when she swallows it up, grinning smugly when you catch her eyes watching her asshole clench rhythmically in the mirror.

“Does that feel good, bebita?”

“Sí, eso se siente tan jodidamente bien!” she yelps, before making a futile attempt to escape her restraints.

You grab them and pull her back onto your tongue that you have stuck out. It slips right into her ass, tongue digging deep into her to slurp at her messy hole. She cries out, tears now cascading hot and fast down her face. she’s in pure bliss, eyes rolled into her head as you tongue-fuck her ass.

Her pussy is not forgotten, two of your thick fingers dip into her to press hard against her sweet spot. She doesn’t even have the time to tell you she’s coming, but you know she does when she squirts all over your arm and face.

You grin and push her through it, tongue slipping deeper into her ass as the tight ring of muscles rhythmically clenches around it. her pussy becomes creamy and gushes the more you finger her, you finally stop when she begs incoherently in Spanish.

You pull away and untie her, rubbing her raw skin gently. You look into her eyes and see a glint of mischievousness, cupping her cheeks and kissing her. you smirk at her knowingly, hands caressing down her muscular body before grabbing her ass.

“You want your ass fucked, don’t you?”

“Please, mi amor. Loved your tongue but wanna be split open on your big cock,”

Your eyes go dark and it excites Alexia, she eagerly gets on her back and pulls her legs open before you can even ask. She looks absolutely perfect, pussy glistening and leaking down onto her slightly gaping asshole. You rub your fingers over it, slipping a fingertip in. She moans, rocking down slightly onto it. you kiss up her chest, suckling on a breast before pulling away to grab the strap.

She doesn’t move a muscle, eyes glazed over with lust and submission as she gets a little high off the sound of your harness being strapped in. You appear above her in less than a minute, her favorite dildo lubed up and ready to go between your legs. She pulls herself open a little more to get her asshole angled better, you lean down and give her a little suckle before pressing the tip into her.

She sighs, feeling the burning stretch of the toy inside her. You caress her thighs and kiss her chest to distract her, she feels her heart swell at your caring nature, despite being in a scene. She relaxes and slowly takes more of the toy, soon enough the whole thing makes her feel fuller than she has all week. It’s a mind-numbing sensation, one that sends her head into a deep spiral.

“Move…” she whines, “please move before I die.”

“Of course, my darling,” you whisper into her ear, pressing her legs back for her now as your hips begin to slowly thrust into her ass. She lets go of her legs and holds onto you, throwing her head back as she lets herself fully enjoy the sensation of having you in her.

“Fuck!” she cries out, head whipping up to look at you. She’s got tears in her eyes again, her gorgeous hazel eyes boring deep into yours.

“Does that feel good, baby?” you ask her, leaning back to thrust harder into her now. Alexia doesn’t answer, instead nodding her head hard as she reaches between you and her to flick at her clit. She rubs at the same pace as your thrusts which sends pure ecstasy throughout her body.

Suddenly, much to her surprise, you slip two fingers into her pussy to fuck alongside her ass. Alexia comes almost immediately, legs flailing the moment your fingers drag across her sweet spot.

“what the fuck was that?” she asks once she’s calmed down and a little coherent, tucked tightly against your side with her face hidden in your neck. She had a tight grip on you, leg thrown over yours tangled perfectly.

“did you like it?”

“like it? we’re never fucking any other way ever again.”

"are you sure about that?"

"okay no, but this one we're totally doing again. once i regain the ability to sit properly of course.

#alexia putellas #bottom alexia #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas x reader #liquidation asks #woso x reader #woso soccer #woso imagine #woso fanfics #fc barca femeni #woso smut #alexia putellas imagine #barcelona femeni #barca femeni

[peachdues]

HALL OF GILDED BONES — NSFW TEASER

Yandere Seelie!Kyojuro x Reader • Victorian AU

A/N: a little teaser of the absolute psychological fuckery that will be my next monster-fucking fic. Not proof read in the slightest.

Be warned: this is a yandere fic. Very dark themes ahead.

CW: READ THE FUCKING WARNINGS • Dead dove, do not eat • yandere!Kyojuro •reader is asleep the entire time • non-consensual oral (F!receiving) • non-consensual somnophilia • masturbation • non-consensual fingering

this is all thanks to @kentohours

It is hot, even for late summer. The air is thick and humid, and it seems no one can escape the constant sheen of sweat that clings to everything and everyone like a second skin.

The night offers little relief. And so, even those who make up London’s high society risk leaving their windows unlatched, desperate for air to circulate through their stuffy homes.

Kyojuro smirks to himself as he silently floats down to Y/N’s small balcony from the spired roof of her family’s magnificent townhouse. Never before has he been so grateful for such an unprecedented heat wave to strike the city, for he is able to stride into his beloved dove’s bedroom with ease, for once not having to use his magick to push her window open and allow him entry.

The moon hangs fat and silvery in the sky, and its watery light illuminates his way as he crosses over the threshold into Y/N’s bedroom. Kyojuro summons a silent wind to push the doors of her window shut, a silent click of the latch confirming that his nightly visit with her will not be disturbed.

He’s as quiet as a mouse as he steps down from the small ledge of the windowsill. His ochre eyes glow in the dark as they scan the room for her, narrowing when they find her sprawled out across her mattress, atop her blankets.

The poor thing; even she, too, seems to be struggling with the abnormal heatwave that’s befallen the city.

He already finds himself growing hard with each step as he draws closer to her sleeping form. His mind is wild with options for the night — shall he take his cock out of his trousers and hold it to her lips like last time, or shall he tease both her and himself by ghosting his fingers over the sumptuous planes of her body, never allowing himself to fully touch her, yet still giving himself a sinful taste of her skin?

His nostrils flare, eager to scent out her intoxicating perfume, but then his eyes widen, and he swears he feels his pupils blow wide.

The heat has made her scent all the more potent, and Kyojuro feels drunk as he approaches the edge of her lavish bed.

A simmering fire courses through his blood at the sight of her legs, parted and open, and the papery linen sheath she’d worn as a nightgown that has ridden up her hips. A thin sheen of sweat coats her skin, making it shine in the moonlight, and her cheeks are flushed from the heat.

Devilish girl, he thinks as he perches one knee carefully at the foot of her bed. How can she expect him to be restrained when she has quite literally spread herself out for him, in offering?

The mattress dips slightly below his weight but his love does not stir, too lost in the deep throes of sleep to sense his presence in her chamber — in her bed. Carefully, so carefully, he climbs onto her bed, mindful to keep his weight off her, though everything within him screams at him to lay out atop her and take her once and for all.

But he won’t; not yet, not when the sight of her maiden’s blood on her fine sheets might give rise to alarm among her servants. He will not risk her being sent away before he has properly seeded her, and so, Kyojuro will be patient, even if it kills him.

Besides, he thinks as he settles at her feet, his nose skimming along the length of her calf. He wants to know her body thoroughly before he gives her his cock — he wants to know every sensitive spot, to know how to make her gasp and twitch and beg for him to gift her release.

His hand ghosts up the inside of her right leg, pushing it gently. It falls to the side, bent at her knee, and she is now spread for him, ready for him to feast.

His mouth waters at the sight of the thatch of curls sitting at the apex of her thighs. With a shaky exhale he surges forward and presses his nose right against his center. The scent of her sweet musk sends his eyes rolling back in his head, and he feels a slight dribble of saliva escape his lips before he can stop it.

His hands curl under her thighs, holding them wide open as Kyojuro exhales softly against her, allowing the moisture of his breath to dampen her skin. He runs his nose along her center one more time, and then, with the tip of his tongue peeking out from between his lips, he traces up her slit in a single, tender stroke.

One hand leaves her thigh to fist at her sheets. His skin stretches taut over his knuckles as he fights to keep his moan locked tight in his chest, lest he risk waking the entire household. Beneath him, Y/N twitches, something like a whimper vibrating in her throat.

His eyes flick up to her face, wide in disbelief. Even in sleep, her eyebrows are furrowed, and her pretty lips are turned into a pout as her body spasms again.

Quickly, he brings his mouth back against her and repeats the movement, licking up her seam with more pressure before he lets his tongue circle the small pearl he knows lies right at the very top of her beautiful sex.

This time, Y/N’s hips jolt, almost as though in demand. Below the diaphanous fabric of her nightdress, her breasts pebble, and a soft moan slips out of her mouth as she bucks again.

He can hardly contain his excitement. Very well, my dove, he thinks with a soft chuckle. I shall give you what you desire.

His golden eyes lower to her center and his nostrils flare wide. There, mixed in with his own saliva, is a wetness of her own.

The scent is unmistakable; her pleasure.

A low growl hums in his throat as he surges forward and latches his mouth against her. He pushes her thighs over his shoulders, one by one, and when his hands are free they join his mouth, parting the lips of her cunt, spreading her wide for him to feast.

And feast he does; every lap of his tongue, every movement of his jaw and his lips fills his mouth with more of her honey. His tongue sinks into her entrance and Kyojuro nearly comes apart right then; her muscles instantly close around him, sucking him into her heat and the thought of her walls clenching and tightening around his cock sends him into a frenzy. His hips grind hard against her mattress in time with the fierce movements of his tongue. Above his mouth, his thumb swirls around Y/N’s sensitive little bead, gathering and spreading more of her wetness with each fevered rotation.

Y/N’a breathing gradually becomes labored as he works, until she is panting and writhing against her bed. Distantly, his ears pick up on the increased tempo of her heart as it flutters like a bird against her sternum.

Rationally, Kyojuro knows he should tread carefully — that if he continues this impassioned frenzy of his mouth against her cunt, he risks forcing her awake and will reveal himself far earlier than he intends.

His greedy hands begin roaming her body, groping and smoothing over her soft curves. As one palm flattens against her stomach, he can feel her muscles clench and flex as the movements of his mouth and tongue intensify. Soon, she is vibrating beneath his hands, and as taut as a bowstring.

Blissfully, she remains asleep despite how her body draws closer to its release. He’s thankful; he’d always known that one could dream vividly of pleasure and feel its effects in reality, but he’d always assumed there was a limit; a point at which the brain would force the body awake, to realize that the intense pleasure it was experiencing was not, in fact, real but a trick of the mind.

But this lovely little human was living proof that his theory had been wrong; for she remained steadfastly asleep, her eyes moving quickly behind her lids as she dreams even as her body bucks and twists under his ministrations.

Besides, he thinks as he presses the tip of his nose flush against her sensitive nub, his mouth continues to work steadily at her. Her pleasure was not mere fantasy — it was real, and it was because of him.

The slick walls of her heat begin to flutter and pulse wildly around his tongue, and Kyojuro knows she is only seconds from release. He drags one hand to her lower abdomen, his palm resting flat and pressing down as he rocks his face harder against her, the other resting on her hip to keep her locked against him. Between his own legs, his cock has grown painfully hard, and the Seelie prince cannot stop himself from grinding into her mattress, desperate for friction and relief.

The thumb of the hand on her abdomen stretches and presses sharply down on the little pearl at the top of her sex. With one, muted grunt, Kyojuro plunges his tongue as deep as it will go into Y/N’s cunt and curls it, and it’s over.

His darling little dove arcs sharply away from her mattress, a faint cry falling from her lips as Kyojuro feels her release slam into her. The walls of her cunt seize around his tongue and pulse, and he greedily laps up every drop of her sweet wetness that gushes into his mouth.

Her climax is his heaven; his eyes roll back into his skull as he loses himself in the heady scent of her, mouth noshing away between her legs in an effort to make it last as long as he can afford. He fights the urge to sink his teeth into the meat of her thigh, desperate to mark her, but unwilling to drag his mouth away from paradise that is her sex.

Finally, the last wave of her climax rolls through her, and Y/N collapses back against her bed, limp. Kyojuro tears his mouth away from her center with a ragged pant, his eyes round and full of awe as he gazes upon her sleeping face.

Magnificent; she is utterly magnificent. The sweetest little creature in all the realms, and utterly and completely his.

Shakily, he rises to his knees, a storm of devotion and adoration churning violently within him. His eyes drop to the seat of his trousers where his own desire for her stands painfully proud. He grimaces; now is not the time for him to take her, but neither can he go back to fucking his own hand as he stands beside her; not after experiencing the euphoria of her sweet sex.

His gaze lowers to the sacred place between her thighs, and his cock throbs. Before he can think the better of it, his hands are fumbling with the fastening of his trousers and he pulls himself free, his length springing against the taut muscles of his stomach. A bead of wetness has already gathered at his tip, and he hissed as his thumb swipes over it, sensitive and desperate.

He gives himself a gentle pump and shifts, positioning his knees on the outside of either of her thighs, still spread against her bed. With a shaky breath, he lowers his cock to her center, and nearly swears at the heat that pulses off of her, practically singing for him to cast aside all reason and plunge himself into her.

A curse burns in his throat as his teeth sink into his lower lip, a metallic tang coating his tongue. No, Kyojuro will hold back — he must.

Below him, his beloved’s breathing has evened, signaling that she has slipped back into her oblivion once more, and her lack of awareness only makes him harder, makes his balls feel heavier and fuller.

Slowly, he traces the aching, swollen head of his cock up and down her cunt, her wetness gathering at his tip. With a shudder, he begins working his cock, his hand spreading her slick along his length until he, too, is covered in her release.

Kyojuro presses the tip of his great length flush against her nub and grinds. Instantly, Y/N’s legs twitch once more, and another surge of her wetness gushes forth and coats him as he continues fisting at his cock. The added lubricant results in a dull schlicking sound that joins his quiet pants he pumps away at himself, his eyes steadily trained on his sleeping dove’s face.

The devil in his mind whispers how it would be easy, so very easy to slip inside her. The thought of her warm, tight, dripping heat clenching around him makes the muscles of his abdomen flex, the knot deep within his stomach seizing painfully tight.

His eyes drop down to his cock, aching and shiny with Y/N’s wetness. Just a little, that tricky voice urges, just enough to sate his own curiosity, to know how her body would feel parting around him —

But the question of whether he’d have the self-restraint not to sheathe himself inside her enticing heat, goes unanswered for now. For it takes only two, hard pumps of his hand to make the coil in his gut unwind.

His free hand flies to his mouth just in time for Kyojuro to quiet his own, deep groan. His teeth sink hard into the flesh of his knuckles as his release barrels through him. Hastily, he presses the tip of his cock flush against his sleeping lover’s entrance just as thick, hot ropes of his seed spurt forth, coating both his hand and her cunt in white.

The vision of her face fades to black for a moment, replaced by stars as bright as those which had dotted the sky the very night the universe had gifted her to him. In the back of his hazy mind, Kyojuro remembers to clench his jaw shut, to keep his lascivious moans and curses locked within him as he pumps himself through his climax.

Every muscle in his body is tight, his limbs rigid as he continues to spill over his fist and against Y/N’s slick heat. When the last, dizzying echo of his release finishes reverberating through him, Kyojuro nearly crumples against his love’s plush mattress. He manages to catch himself at the last second, a hand shooting to grip at her blankets as he pitches himself to the side, narrowly avoiding disturbing her body with his own.

He curls into the bed, smothering his shuddering breaths against her sheets. A long moment passes as Kyojuro regains control over himself, and then he pushes himself to his knees, cheeks flushed and chest heaving, to survey his work. Something prideful and smug roars in his chest as he beheld the mess of white left between Y/N’s supple thighs.

As he admires the sight of his mess dribbling down Y/N’s sex, an idea, a wickedly mischievous idea, took form. Though he would remain committed to restraining himself from claiming her until the time was right, that did not mean he had to let his seed go to waste.

His heart thrums wildly as he brings his fingers against his little dove’s beautiful cunt, gathering his own spend around his digits. Her cunt parts easily around him as he pushes it into her, swirling his fingers inside her to ensure his seed thoroughly coats her walls. He repeats his movements again and again until he is satisfied that all of him is inside of her, with nothing remaining on her thighs or the bed below her.

Though asleep, Y/N’s thighs flex around him as he withdraws his hand from her cunt, her body subconsciously wanting to cling onto him, keep him there, between her legs where he belonged.

He huffs a quiet laugh. Precious, he thinks as he runs an affectionate hand over her stomach. Such a precious little thing, his dove is.

“Do not fret, my love,” he murmurs as he lowers himself to impart one, final kiss against her dampened flesh. The combined scent of her pleasure mixed with his nearly catapults him back into a frenzy, but Kyojuro forces himself away.

He stands and tucks himself back into his trousers. Just outside her great window, the sky has begun to lighten, and soon, dawn will spill over the spires roofs of London, and a new day will commence.

And he will return to her, his darling human, wearing the mask of a courtly suitor once more.

He leaps to her windowsill and unlatches the great glass doors, letting them swing wide. He pauses, turning back to cast one last look at Y/N, still fast asleep in her bed and no wiser to his presence than she’d been when he’d first arrived.

He smiles, content. “I shall see you soon.”

banner from @ benkeibear!

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kyojuro rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny smut #kny rengoku #rengoku x reader #rengoku #kny kyojuro #demon slayer kyojuro

[chrollohearttags]

free smoke • portgas d. ace

content + themes: modern au, black!fem reader (also a firefighter), throat fucking, spit play, hate fucking, breeding, full nelson, spanking, shower sex, backshots, mentions of ovulation and pregnancy, missionary, enemies to lovers-ish, daddy’s used, calls reader a slut, brat taming, squirting

📝: firefighter ace is on my mind so enjoy my depravity until I put a proper fic out. (I’m like a sick dog in heat for this man omg) this is like pure filth, look away if it’s not your thing or if you still have a bedtime. In other words, minors, piss off.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

friends…it’d be the last word you’d ever use to describe the relationship between yourself and Portgas D. Ace. Despite working together day in and day out, fighting side by side to save lives regardless of your own safety and practically living underneath the same roof..you couldn’t stand him! Perhaps, even that was being a bit generous. You hated his guts. Granted, he was the man that you received all of your orders from at Fire Company Eight as he was the Vice Fire Captain and you were merely a rookie firefighter; having only joined the five man crew only a year and a half prior.

“Hey, rookie. Grab those boxes from over there and bring them upstairs.”

oh how you despised the moniker..a reminder of his superiority and ranking over you. Sure, he didn’t purposely wave it over your head like some proverbial flag but he certainly didn’t downplay either. He knew how much it ruffled your feathers so he’d repeat it in hopes of getting you agitated and riled up. Almost like clockwork, it done the trick everytime! “I have a name. Why don’t you try using it, asshole..” Oftentimes scoffing over your shoulder with cut eyes and a nasty glare. Even so, with much vitriol and vengeance in your heart, you’d follow his commands. It was no secret among the entire firehouse that you two were sworn enemies..or rather, he was on the receiving end of a one sided grudge. All beginning when you first started here and he treated you as if you were dumb. And it didn’t help that you were the only woman here. Despite graduating top of your class at fire college. The best scores, highest evaluations…none of it meant a thing to him! Your biggest issue with him was that carefree, lackadaisical attitude. Put simply, he was a jackass! He didn’t care about much including someone’s hurt feelings. Especially when he hadn’t done anything except his job. The way he saw it, until you surpassed him in rank, you could get glad in the same damn drawers you got mad in. “I suggest you watch that fucking mouth if you know what’s good for you..”

a warning you’d certainly heed once the rest of the crew heads out on a grocery run. Knowing that they’d be out for at least two hours, stocking up on food and toiletry items for everyone, that left the vice chief ample time to teach you a lesson. He knew your little charade was nothing more than show for the others because the second they were out that door, leaving you two alone, you were both in the shower..relieving those rising tensions..

“Open…there you go—see, you can follow instructions.”

“Fuck you—“

the words spewing like venom shortly before he gags you get again. The steamy droplets of warm water cascading over your nude bodies as they collide in the stand in bath. Your so called sworn enemy cuffing your wrists with one hand as he slowly thrusts into your mouth. His hard cock sliding between your plump lips and silky jaws, drumming up strings of spit..along with loud gagging sounds. All while his six foot four frame stood above you. Only muted by the downpour from the shower head as you sat fatefully on your knees, being used to his leisure. You may have been pretending to be angry and talking all recklessly but he could tell that you were enjoying this just as much as he was. Ace wasn’t fooled by your tough exterior the way everyone else was. Because he knew the one thing you needed above all else..was a good fuck. To be slutted out beyond comprehension; to have so many orgasms, you won’t even have the energy to be a bitch. And who better than to give you the treatment than your beloved boss? Hell, he had done it before. Many times in fact and although it didn’t shut you up for good, the satisfaction of seeing you sprawled and fucked out with his cum inside of you was enough consolation!

Ooh…fuck. You know something, rookie? I think you should’ve took a career in acting instead. Pretending to hate me in front of everyone else but sucking me off in the shower..you’re a strange girl.”

interrupting his praise to lob more saliva into your mouth in the form of a long string. Only to resume his rapid assault of your throat. Taking it all the way to the base..allowing his balls to slap your chin and his abs to brush your forehead, holding it in place until he saw fit. Taking full advantage of your nonexistent gag reflex. He’d withdraw to be met with your messy face and rewarded you with a kiss amid your heavy gasping. Even after working your mouth over and feeding you a couple faint slaps, you still had plenty to say! “Who said I was pretending? I still can’t stand you.” Which was all fine in theory but again, he wasn’t paying your ass any mind. Rather, he wanted to make use of this free time that you were granted and fuck the shit out of you. Tugging you by your arms, Ace swiftly spun you around so that your thick backside was pressed to his pelvis. He didn’t hesitate to impale you on his cock and begin feeding you deep seeded strokes. Your back bent and frame curved into a S shape as he pulled you back by your wrists..the recoil of your plush flesh bouncing against his own and sounding off. That sopping little cunt seeping with cream and slick each time he pounded into you. Ensuring you couldn’t move unless he granted so.

“You sure about that? Could’ve had me fooled, sweetheart…this pussy’s so wet f’r me, I can barely stay in it..”

drumming up a sheath of sticky membrane and more of your beautiful moans. Even drudging up some of his own. Ace would toss his head back and try not to focus too much on the ripple of your plump ass swallowing him whole. He loved the sound, the contrast..he loved how good you felt for him! “Fuuck! Fuck me…oh my gosh..just keep giving me that dick and shut the hell up.”blurting out and whimpering for him without a single thought. His fingers intertwine and clutch around your throat; bringing you back when you tried to run. Seeing as your hair was covered by the silk bonnet atop to your head. “Shit…ain’t gotta tell me twice….so sexy when you talk to me like that.” Spinning you around to kiss once more. Mirroring that of lovers moreso than a couple of people who were just arguing. The collision of skin and loins making it difficult for either of you to conceal your true feeling. Clawing at the tile walls, (y/n) cried out yet again and begged for him to go deeper. Even holding it open once he freed your hands. “That’s right, spread that ass…let me get in it..” grunting into your shoulder blade before forcing you back down. He wasn’t showing you any mercy. Smacking and spanking your cheeks rigorously..leaving stinging marks. “That feel good? Am I in it?..” “..yes, daddy. In my fucking spot..oh my God!” Bringing forth a hearty laugh and lewd feelings from your vice chief. “Daddy, huh? I was an asshole not too long ago. Wonder what changed.” Either way, he loved hearing it come from your mouth!

“C’mere..grab me.” In a moment of haste, the dark haired, dreamy eyed man would twist the faucet off to cease the shower and instruct you to wrap your limbs around him. Which you did so, seeing as how your legs couldn’t stop trembling. He had already worn a sore spot into the pit of your tummy but he was far from finished. Not when he was still throbbing profusely; leaking from that swollen tip when he pulls out of you. However, that doesn’t last long as he’s got to be one with you yet again. The two of you would shuffle back towards the bunk cabins, where two beds resided on each side; one atop the other. For convenience, he’d take the bottom one but not before pounding you all the way there. Hoisting you up midair and slamming you back down on his cock with sheer strength. Your nails digging ferociously into the giant piece of ink on his back; those clear, manicured nails scraping at his tattoo and he was loving every second. “Right there! Fuck!…gonna come..” whimpering into his ear as your face cradled into the crook of his neck. He knew it was a lot, it always but you took it so well..better than any other girl he’d ever fucked. You wrapped around him as if you never wanted him to let go.

“Damn..you’re close, aren’t you, baby? I can feel it..” whispering into your ear as he placed a kiss to your temple as a means to quell your quivering body. That ecstasy was hitting your body like a freight truck and there was no greater sensation. Bringing you to the mattress, Ace maintained his grip on your legs before standing straight back up and letting another line of spit lubricate your folds already sopping folds. Just to really get you shaking, he’d tap that shaft against them before gliding back in. Something about staring into your eyes whilst deep inside of that heat, was so much more raw and intense. You couldn’t hide or pretend anymore. He saw every emotion all over your face. Especially when those strokes were so rhythmic and beautiful, each one connected to your spot. Stroking that sensitive clit, Ace sucked his teeth and kept pushing forth, prompting you to take over holding your calves so that he could give you the brutal fucking you so desperately craved!

“Yeah..take it. Take this fucking dick..you little slut!” Bearing his entire weight down and through gritted teeth, Ace pounded your pussy until the bed frame underneath you was rocking back and forth. Fucking you with his hands cusping your throat. He knew how much it turned you on; apparent by the rampant twitches against his shaft. You’d claw at his wrists as he kept going…taunting you and talking his shit the entire time. He knew he had you exactly where he wanted and wasn’t going to let up until his abs and the floor was left a soaking mess. That deep voice causing pangs in the bottom of your stomach when he yelled at you. Hastily shoving his tongue back into your mouth, the vice captain kept going..despite running on the last of his energy, he’d find himself balls deep in you; practically hurled into a mating press now. Still, he wasn’t stopping until you emptied that sack for him and took every last bit of his nut. And you weren’t too far behind..delirium and cock drunkenness was setting in pretty heavily and you wanted to come for him so badly. Despite not wanting to cave. Hell, he was ducking you down so good, you were ready live in his skin and cook him breakfast! Repeatedly slamming into that core and making you cream for him immensely. Not to mention how erect your nipples were..you were sensitive and by the tears streaming down your face, that let him know one fact:

“Ooh..somebody must be ovulating. No wonder you’ve been such a mess, rookie. You just needed someone to come take care of you, huh?”

cooing to you in a manner that made it impossible to resist his charm. Sticking a thumb between your lips to pacify you, he’d get inside of your head..playing on your insecurities and talking you through those feelings. He could always tell when you were in that mood and when that time of month was near. Either you’d be in the foulest of moods and no one could bother you or you’d pick a fight with him just so he could give you some dick. It was almost like clockwork but he’d give in every single time. How a man that you despised knew you better than any partner you’d ever had was beyond words. Holding your face close, he’d cradle you in his palms and let your gazes meet one last time. When he saw your eyes, they were welled full of tears and brimming with lust. His theory was absolutely correct!

“I know, I know. Just breathe..” talking you through that inevitable orgasm. He’d calm you with reassuring words, kisses to your forehead and regressed strokes. Slowing down so he could meet you right there and you guys could come together. “Same time, okay? You and me.” He’d bog down and hone in for the last minute or so, knowing his climax was growing near. That tip prodded and swollen beyond relief as it oozed precum. Leaking and begging to burst. His full, heavy balls smacking against your asshole with a layer of sticky liquid between them. Clutching the backs of his thighs, (y/n) held him in place, begging for him to fill you to the brim. “Fuck! Just come in me.” And with that command, for the first time in ever..he’d follow. Releasing his load and lobbing yet another sloppy peck. One that lasted far longer than the rest. That warm seed spilling into you as he attempted to muffle his own cries. This was pure heaven if he’d ever experienced it. Your hands scaling his back and your limbs fully coiled around him as if you never wanted to let go.

“God, I swear you’re nothing but trouble, rookie. What am I gonna do with you?”

heavily huffing whilst examining your face. It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Caressing the side of his face with a gentle hand, you’d bat those beautiful eyelashes before bopping his nose with the tip of your finger. “Well you can start by getting me a Plan B, Mr. Weak Ass Pull Out Game.” Immediately sending him into hysterics. “Shut up, like you weren’t begging for it..damn brat.” The two of you would joke around and cackle as if everything was just peachy between the two of you. Knowing you’d go right back to being sworn enemies. Just then, the sound of footsteps and doors unlocking sounded off from downstairs. Maybe one day you’d settle your differences for real. “Our little secret?” “Of course.”

but for now, it was much more fun to pretend!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@hobiesrockstargf

#cherry’s works 🍒🌹 #one piece ace #one piece #one piece fic #portgas d ace #portgas d ace smut #ace x black reader #portgas ace x reader #one piece smut #one piece au #op au #op x reader #op fanfic #modern au #ace op #ace one piece #one piece x black!reader #op x y/n #black fem reader #black reader smut #one piece x reader #ace smut #op smut #op modern au #black reader #cw smut #cw spit #cw choking #cw breeding #doubt anyone is online but posting anyway. bored out of my mf mind tonight

[blueicequeen19]

A Wager

Warnings: fighting, coercion, oral, fingering, implied protected sex, talk of racing

“Baby, don’t be mad.” JJ coos, reaching for me as I round the tiny kitchen island of my apartment. I slap his hands away as I avoid his advances.

“I’m not your baby so fuck off!” I growl, hating the way his cocky smile and husky laugh immediately gives me butterflies.

“It was just a little race!” JJ smirks at me, leveling those baby blues on me and making me want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“You could’ve been hurt!” I slap my hands on the counter top, the pain grounding me for a moment.

“Now you sound like you care about me.”

“Well, I don’t.”

JJ chuckles, tossing his hat down on the island and raking his fingers through his hair. My heart is racing a mile a minute as he takes me in, drinking in every detail and lighting my skin on fire.

“Maybe you’re just mad that I won.”

I scrunch up my face, annoyed with his constant flirting and accusations. I didn’t want to want him. I needed him to stop trying. I needed him to leave.

“I don’t give a shit. I’m not some prize all you guys can fight over.”

“Then why did you let me take you to dinner and why am I standing in your apartment right now?”

“Because you’re annoyingly persistent and I was just being nice!”

JJ rounds the island in the blink of an eye, making me squeal when he catches my arm and pins my body with his. He was so close I could smell the soap he used along with sweat. I tried not to take in his face. His lips. The bulging vein in his neck. The firmness of his body. His breath in my face.

“You could’ve just congratulated me. You didn’t have to go through with it.”

“You would’ve harassed me until I agreed.”

“That’s true.” His voice lowers to a low, sexy rasp and I shudder against him.

“You didn’t have to race him. I could’ve handled him. I don’t need you to try and save me. Let alone make a damn bet for who would take me to dinner.”

“So if I’d just asked you, you would’ve gone with me?”

“No.”

JJ smirks, suddenly cupping the back of my neck with the hand not on my wrist. His thumb strokes my throat just as I swallow, goosebumps running down my arms. It’s then that I suddenly realize he’s hard and pressed firmly against my stomach. I swallow again and his thumb pries my bottom lip free of my teeth. I can’t meet his eyes so I turn my head, looking at the fridge instead just as he smiles, leaning in close.

“What are you so afraid of?” JJ whispers in my ear, turning his hips from side to side and grinding his erection against me.

“Heartbreak.” I admit on a shaky breath, refusing to meet his blue gaze.

“Then don’t give me your heart.”

“I won’t.”

“And I won’t give you mine.”

“Okay.” I don’t realize I’ve looked back at him until his lips brush over mine and I gasp. My hands find their way to his narrow hips and I shudder when he grinds against me again.

“Kiss me.” JJ breathes, not giving me a moment before pressing his lips firmly against mine. I don’t grant him access, keeping my lips tightly together despite how heavily I’m breathing. JJ growls, using both hands to cup my face and tilt my head up.

“Kiss me. I know you want to.” His tongue traces the seem of my lips and I shiver, unable to retreat.

“Kiss me or I’ll kiss your other lips.” I fight back a moan, my clit throbbing in response to his threat. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, feeling how wet I am. I wanted to be touched. I wanted him to touch me.

I don’t fight him as he lowers himself to his knees on my kitchen floor, not taking his eyes off me as he unbuttons my shorts and pulls them down my legs. When he spots the wet spot on my panties, he has a harder time looking back up at me. I watch him swallow hard, his resolve starting to slip as he slowly hooks his thumbs in the hem of my panties and drags them down my legs.

Finally his eyes find mine again as he gently nudges my legs open wider. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. All I can do is watch him lean in close and inhale deeply, letting my scent wash over him.

“You won’t kiss me but you’ll let me taste this fine pussy?” JJ rasps, using both hands to spread me open wide for him. A full body shudder hits me as I watch him. His lips tip up in a smirk as he leans in to flick his tongue across my clit. I gasp, my hips jerking as he slowly does it over and over again. Almost lazily.

My thighs start to shake, my body burning with only one request.. more. More. More. More. So much more.

“You taste amazing.” JJ sighs, sitting back on his heels and licking his lips. I feel on the brink of madness as he so carelessly gazes at me like something he wants to savor instead of consume.

“Where’s that smart mouth now? A little attention to your pussy and you fold?” JJ taunts, making me roll my eyes. I couldn’t think of something to say even if I wanted to. All I can focus on is the heartbeat in my clit.

“You’re going to have to tell me what you want if you want me to continue, baby.” JJ whispers, my body buzzing with need and desire.

“Don’t tease me.” I rasp, gripping the countertop like it’s my lifeline.

“Tease you? Isn’t that the game we play? You’ve been teasing me since we were teenagers. Stringing me along until I’m ready to pounce then you pull it back. Like a fish on a line.”

“I didn’t ask for—.”

“If you think this is teasing, you haven’t seen just what I’m capable of.” JJ growls, suddenly lifting me by the backs of my thighs and sitting me on the island. I gasp when he forces me on my back on the cold counter top, his hand splayed on my sternum to hold me in place as he begins to kiss everywhere but where I need.

My body begins to arch, my thighs beginning to shake as he trails his tongue up my stomach as he shoves up my bra and shirt. My breasts spring free from their confinement as his tongue trails between them. He pulls me closer, the hardness in his shorts pressing against my core. I whimper with need, dying for so much more just as his mouth closes on my nipple.

“Mmm.” JJ hums, my hardened peak in his mouth as his fingers twist the other one.

“JJ.” It slips out on a moan and I feel him smile with my nipple in his mouth. He moves to the other one, sucking and biting then licking to ease the sting. Over and over again. I could cry with how badly I need a release. My clit was throbbing painfully and he was toying with me.

“Is there something you need, baby?” JJ taunts, moving back down my body and placing a wet kiss on my mound.

“You’re an asshole.” I pant, making him chuckle as he spreads my legs wider.

“What was that? You want me to lick lower?” JJ moves further south and I yelp, attempting to slam my legs closed but he stops me with strong hands and a smirk.

“Then tell me what you want or I will have my way with every part of this body.” JJ warns, ghosting his thumb over my swollen nub. God I hated him.

“Please just—.” I thread my fingers through his hair, urging him where I need him but he resists.

“Words.” JJ places a kiss to my clit and I jerk, tears springing to my eyes.

“Fuck me. Please.” I pant, his eyes widening for just a second before he’s shaking his head, fighting a smile.

“I plan to, darlin, but right now I want to hear you ask me to eat your pussy. Beg and plead so I know you really want it.” He winks, teasing my entrance with the tip of his finger. I nearly scream in frustration. Why was he doing this to me? What was he trying to prove?

JJ blows air on my clit and I nearly jerk off the counter top, my soul threatening to leave my body. I couldn’t do this anymore.

“Eat my pussy, J. Make me cum. Please. I need you.” JJ smirks before ducking his head to lick a stripe up my slit, his tongue circling my clit before flicking it with the flat of his tongue. The air leaves my lungs as his lazy, savoring moments become greedy and urgent. I moan loud and long with each swipe of his tongue over my clit and when he sucks the bud into his mouth, lashing it with his tongue, I cum with a cry as I see stars.

He doesn’t stop and neither do I. I’ve never cum so hard or fast in my life. Let alone shamelessly grind on a guys face while wrapping my thighs around his head. JJ doesn’t seem to care about breathing as he feasts with fever, his hands tight on my thighs as my body explodes again. I push at his head as the euphoria subsides and the sensitivity has me whimpering.

“No more.” I rasp, attempting to pry his mouth free of me.

“One more.” JJ growls, using that moment to slip two thick fingers inside me. I’m a goner. I fall back on the counter top as an even greater climax erupts from me, leaving me trembling and gasping for air. I feel boneless and lifeless as he stands to his full height, pulling me into a sitting position. My mind hasn’t caught up to my body because I don’t even think as I grab him by the hair and slam our mouths together. JJ’s answering groan has me opening my mouth and stroking his tongue with my own, tasting myself.

We make out like horny teenagers. All tongue and teeth. My hands in his hair and his in mine. When his hands finally slide down to slip under my shirt, I break away. If I don’t stop now, I never will.

“You need to go.” I whisper, my clit starting to throb again when his thumb finds my nipple.

“You think one taste was enough?” JJ practically whines, tweaking my nipple until it hurts.

“If we don’t stop now..”

“Aren’t you curious what I taste like after I’ve been inside you?” I was curious. I wanted to taste his cum and his sweat. But we couldn’t do this. I’d already let it get too far.

“JJ, please.” I plead, just as I hear the clink of a buckle and then I feel him against my thigh. I try not to look down but the urge is too great. He’s thick. And so goddamn hard it looks painful. The tip is weeping clear precum and once again my body fails me as I swipe the liquid up with my thumb and bring it to my mouth. JJ curses, hands moving to grip my hips as I lick my lips.

“Condom.” I bite out, tearing my shirt and bra off with the next breath. JJ’s heated blue eyes stare back at me as he plucks a condom from his back pocket and lets his shorts and boxers hit the floor. His shirt goes next. I admire his body and the sculpt of every muscle while he rolls the condom on. When he pulls me close, fitting himself at my entrance, I stop him with a hand to the chest.

“This won’t happen again.” I state, hating the way he smiles as he slips the tip in. I bite back a moan as he releases a deep breath.

“If you say so.” JJ bites out, a dark look in his eyes as he presses in deeper. I dig my nails into his chest and he hisses, tightening his grip on my thighs.

“You can’t stay and you can’t come back.” I rasp, loving the too full feeling of him. I was losing my restraint again. He felt too fucking good.

“I don’t plan on leaving you ever.” JJ groans, his face contorting like he’s in pain. Pride blooms through me just watching him. He was struggling too.

“Fine.” I snarl, wrapping my legs around his waist and yanking him closer, making us both cry out as he buries himself inside me to the hilt.

If he wasn’t going to let this go, then I was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

#smutwarning #outer banks smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fic #obx2 #jj maybank imagine #rudy pankow #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x you #jj obx #outer banks x reader #wattpad #blueicequeen19 #outer banks fanfiction #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader smut #jj maybank sex #rafe cameron smut

[simping-overload]

Hello! I was just wondering if you could write some angst!!

I was wondering if you could write a ghost x male reader where reader gets seriously injured to the point where it scares the shit out of ghost and ghost lectures him but ends up crying as he's lecturing the reader? 👀

a/n: hurt/comfort my love tags: canon typical violence, gore(??ppl get stabbed and someone gets their throat sliced open) no use of y/n, male reader, injured reader, prob occ ghost??? ghost cries, everyone cries. angst, hurt/comfort

ヾthis is a multi-fandom blog that is designed for mlm/nbmlm identifying readers! so if you're female or fem please do not follow or interact with my mlm/nbmlm related post!! you will be blocked if you do not heed this warning ゛

You were a sniper. You weren’t supposed to get too close to the fight. All you had to do was hang back and try to offer support, but by the gods do you never listen.

The situation got tight, Gaz and Soap trapped in a room by enemy fire. Captain Price and Ghost were clearing out another building.

You being the oh so self-sacrificing bastard you are ran to help. You went the back way, so the enemies’ backs would face you, unaware of your approach.

You quickly and efficiently took them out, just as you were trained, but—you missed one. A heavy hitter, a fucking Juggernaut.

He didn’t bother reloading his gun, throwing it to the side before he started swinging. The first few swings caught you off guard, and he got you right in the nose, breaking it. This throws you off balance, which gives him the opportunity to throw you against the concrete wall.

You rolled to the side before he could kick your ribs in, quickly standing up on your feet, slightly dazed. You pull out your knife, the one you were gifted to Simon, as using a gun in close combat would be useless.

You circled each other, waiting for the other to strike first. Vaguely out of the corner of your eye, you can see Soap carry Gaz out of the building. You feel a slight relief that now they’re safe.

Your way of winning this fight was to take it nice and slow, bait him into moving so he wears out easier due to all that heavy gear.

You move forward like you’re going to swing, which causes him to charge forward. You sidestep. His armor barley grazes yours.

“Oh? Is That all you got?” You mock, tapping your foot like an impatient child. You’ve played this game before.

He huffed like a big bad wolf, “I’ll fucking kill you,” He growls out.

Charing at you again, he actually gets you. He grabs onto the side of your armor and pulls you on him, securing his arms around your body before throwing you onto the ground with him.

You can feel something crack as your head fits the floor, that doesn’t stop you from squirming and wriggling in his grasp. You use your knife, plunging it into the nearest flesh you can find.

It didn’t go far, but it did make him shout in pain. For just a moment, his grip loosens, you throw yourself out of his hold, trying to dash away to create distance.

He recovered quickly, grabbing onto your ankle. He forced you to trip. Landing face first, you couldn’t stop him from dragging you back to him. He gets on top of you, pinning your arms down with his knees as he starts punching you again.

You black out, head and mouth bleeding. The man cackles, throwing you up against the wall with a cackle. He holds you up, forearm pressed against your through as your feet dangle helplessly in the air.

Your eyes shoot open at your sudden lack of air, you kick at him weakly. Shaking hands, reach for your knife, ripping it out of his thigh. You can’t use it before he rips the blade out of your head and stabs your stomach multiple times.

High off of adrenaline, you grab a smaller knife from your shoulder strap, one that was covered in a fast acting poison to render your opponents immobile. You did the knife under his helmet; the knife meeting his now exposed throat and you slice.

The man immediately drops you, leaving the knife in your stomach as he stumbles back, holding his neck. He slides down against the wall as his body gives up on him.

You raise a shaky hand to your walkie, “Captain-L.T. I need a medic asap. I can’t stay awake for much longer.” You can feel your eyelids get heavy.

“Stay awake, soldier. I’m on my way.” Simon’s gruff voice was the last thing you heard before your eyes seemed to shut for what may be the last time.

You float in and out of consciousness, eyes cracking over just barley as you feel familiar arms pick you up and run to the evac. On the helicopter, his gloved hands holding your face with such gentleness.

The last thing you remembered was being jabbed with one too many needles before passing out completely.

You felt like shit. Your head was pounding, and the rest of your body felt like it was on fire. You crack your eyes open, wincing at the blinding lights of the medical ward.

Your eyes scan the room. There isn’t anyone here. Aside from whoever is sleeping next to you. You turn your head slightly, recognizing the familiar build of the love of your life, Simon.

“Simon.” You try, voice dry and horse.

His head automatically shoots up at the call of his name. His eyes lock with yours. You can see the internal strife within them debating over what he wants to say.

“You’re an idiot.” The insult doesn’t make you wince, as it’s true.

“I know—.”

“No, I don’t think you do. You rush in blind, without a care in the world. You could’ve been killed, and you nearly were.” Simon takes your hand in his.

“I was only trying to help Si... I couldn’t do shit from the bird’s nest.” You interlock your fingers and squeeze his hand.

“What help are you if you ended up dead?” His shoulders drop. “I don’t know what I would’ve done with myself if you did.”

You can feel tears prick at the corner of your eyes, “Simon... let me see you.” You nudged the edge of the mask with your free hand.

Simon slips off the mask, his eyes are bloodshot-a result of hours of crying. You cup his face with a shaky hand. “But I am here now, that is what matters, yeah?”

He leans into your palm, tears streaming down his cheeks. You sigh, pulling him towards you. Pressing your forehead against yours, he sighs against you.

“I’ll make sure to be safer next time, okay?”

“Okay.”

#simon riley x male reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x male reader #ghost #ghost cod #mw x reader #cod x reader #cod angst #cod x male reader #cod x you #male reader #x male reader

[chaotic-iguana]

Sleep

Summary: Reader suffers from lack of sleep, caused by a recent event. As she continues to overwork herself, she reaches her breaking point with near disastrous results. Starring concerned!steve murphy, chaotic idiot!steve murphy and clueless!reader. javi has my fucking heart though.

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no use of y/n though)

Rating: M

Wordcount: 2.2k 

Warnings: fluff, mild angst, sort of a panic attack, mild MILD allusions to someone being creepy (not javi though), mild flirting, humour, lots of swearing sorry

this is my first fic - let me know your thoughts! check me out on ao3

masterlist.

“I swear to fucking god Murphy, if you don’t stop bouncing your leg against the table, I’m slamming your head right into it” is the gospel that flows out of your mouth at 7 am on a Monday morning. Feels like it’s gonna be a great week.

“The hell did I do? You’d think Connie’s cookies would be enough to get you animals off my back, but no, first sign of any damn fire an’ the first person you’d throw in?” Steve huffs. “Murphy”, he repeats mockingly. You scoff and roll your eyes at him, clenching and unclenching your fists in an attempt to talk yourself down from strangling the idiot situated two feet to your left before turning back to the paperwork in front of you. The one-foot-tall, monster stack of paperwork. Right. In. Front. Of. You. And would the golden boys ever do it themselves? If they ever got a moment’s relief from jacking each other off during missions (or however the hell they manage to fumble practically every single little op), maybe. But most of the time, you were stuck with it. Because god forbid the two princesses you were partnered with ever had to so much as lift a pen themselves. Hell would freeze over.

And it isn’t like you mind. At all, really. Half your job is the paperwork, and you’re happy to get it in order - if only to avoid Noonan’s wrath. Besides, what good is an agent if they can’t do their fucking job? In its entirety; not the half-assed shit most of the men did around the embassy. But a single glimpse of yourself in the mirror while rushing to leave the house revealed that these past few weeks of skipping lunch breaks, going home late, and taking files home to work on have been catching up with you - sunken, bloodshot eyes, cracked lips, and bruises smudged under your eyes now, perpetually, since the nightmares had started. Anything to keep you busy, right?

Another aggravating side effect of the amount of work you had taken on apart from the usual? The constant irritation. Marlene’s new nails, Katie’s suspicious last lay, the stupid fucking demon alarm clock that never quite managed to wake you up, the busted tire, the broken coffee machine, Dave from accounting’s downright idiotic whistling, your pen running out of ink, and finally - Murphy’s bouncing knee banging the table every fucking millisecond, practically in tune with the pounding ache beginning to form between your brows. If you were a better person, you’d let these things go. Such is life, right? But since the lack of sleep, the increased workload and general mishappenings had already created this beautiful trifecta of shit just to screw you over, better people could go fuck themselves. As could Murphy. “Don’t use your wife’s cooking as an excuse. I’m telling you, make another sound and die.” you spit out, whirling in your chair because the incessant fucking banging still hasn’t stopped - just in time to catch Peña sauntering in, already smirking.

“Already nailing Murphy’s balls, cariño? Careful, I’ll fall in love, baby.” You can hear the laughter in his crooning voice as he throws it over his shoulder - but you don’t care - can’t care, beyond the spots that seem to be forming at the edges of your vision. Were your fingers always a bit tingly? Or is that a new development, like your tongue suddenly feeling thick and heavy in your mouth, like you’re choking on it? But even though your thoughts feel slow and weighed down by molasses, rage sparks brighter in your mind as Peña’s flirty nicknames and bullshit teasing registers. You push away from your desk, and shoot up from the chair, striding towards the door to get some air - or you try to - because before you know it, your vision is blinded by white and you’re breathing quick, shallow breaths as you lay on the ground trying to figure out what the fuck is happening. Distantly, you can hear someone calling your name but it sounds so far away you barely even register it. Hands wrap around your wrist, your head, attempting to stabilize you, to ground you, as you flail wildly in a panic. A low hum begins to fill your senses, forming words that sound to fuzzy to understand or care about right now, but you lean into it, something in your being telling you it’s safe.

When your sight clears, you’re curled up on the on the floor trembling. Shaking, like a scared fucking child, while Peña kneels to hold you to his chest, repeating the same few phrases over and over: “You’re okay, it’s okay hermosa. You’re safe. Safe. No ones gonna hurt you, it’s over now, okay?” as Murphy stands next to him, watching with panic and a hint of sympathy in his gaze. You scramble away from them both, panting, nearly slipping in your effort to get to your feet. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, pretty. You’re okay” Peña repeats his assurances with his hands held out, palms facing you, as you stand on wobbling knees, wiping at your face.

“‘M fine” is all you whisper to them hoarsely before ducking your head and rushing out of the pathetically cramped room you three work in. You can hear footsteps behind you, but can’t find it in you to turn around - not even at the panicked sounds of your name being called by a familiar voice. You’re making a scene, you know it, but you don’t care. It’s all too much, and you’re too far gone. Reaching the parking lot, you struggle to unlock your car as your trembling fingers drop the keys twice. Swearing, you resolve and pick them up again, pressing them and reaching for the door. But just before your fingers find the handle another hand - much, much larger than yours - splays out on the window to stop you, just as Peña’s signature bedhead comes into view. He looks at you with wide, concerned eyes, his mouth tucked low at the corners, like he’s disappointed. You want to melt, you do, because the melting pot of emotions you have for him make you preen at his worry - but your usual defense mechanisms humble you. And so you sharpen your claws, flash your fangs, and the hackles raise again, leaving a “What, Peña?” to come tumbling out in a tone so sharp it makes you flinch. HIs frown just deepens as his gaze rakes over your form frantically, as if checking for injury. He says nothing, pursing his lips further before snatching your wrist and tugging you behind him as he stalks to his car, opening the side door. You raise a brow at him, and he counters by jerking his head towards the car, scowling slightly. You get in, slightly confused, and wait for him to walk around and get into the drivers seat. “What the fuck, Peña? I just fainted, I’m not senile. And I don’t give a shit how mad you are, you can’t just-just drag me to your car and f-force me to get in. The fuck are you playing at?” you begin to ramble, fury somehow still rising at a dizzying speed. Peña doesn’t respond, just starts driving while looking straight ahead while you continue fumbling over a panicked rant so pathetic it sounds nonsensical to your own ears. “…And what? You just enjoy calling me s-stupid nicknames? You think it’s cute to flirt with me while I’m- while I pass out?” This one makes his nostrils flare, eyes darkening a bit while his jaw tightens just for a second before letting go. You pause for a second, getting your breath while your hands still shake in your lap. “I’m fine, it’s fine. Can I just go home please? I’ve already done the month’s paperwork for all the ops we have planned, and you can just give me the rest post-op. I’m just a bit under the weather, I just need to lie down for a bit.” you start trying to reason, but the stubborn ass just keeps driving, and alarm starts bubbling in your chest again. You look down to your lap while you fiddle with your thumbs, willing to control the irrational fear yelling at you that something’s wrong every second Peña chooses to stay silent.

“Think I was flirting with you while you passed out? Y’think I don’t see it, you working yourself to the fucking bone? Think I can’t see how you’ve stopped eating, honey? Stopped laughing like you used to? Think I don’t know how late you’ve starting going home? As ‘f I’ll ever stop waitin’ for ya to clock out first so I know you’re home okay, baby. You gotta tell me what’s wrong - this is eatin’ you up.“

Peña’s tone softens, but his harsh whisper makes you turn your head to look at him. He sounds so…tortured, as if he’s the one suffering. He glances your way, locking eyes with you for a second before turning his head back to the road. You sit there and practically gape at him, your jaw slack as your head whirls. Peña knows? No, wait, he waits? For you to go home so you’re safe? He cares? What the fuck? Confused, all that comes out of your mouth is a mighty elegant open-mouthed “huh?” before you blink at him, waiting for him to continue.

“You gotta know by now, sweetheart. Gotta see how I’ve been lookin’ at you. You’re the smartest fuckin’ agent I’ve seen, with the balls to take down men I’d sweat to be ‘n the same room with. You swear like a sailor, an’ make me laugh till I’m chokin’ on my own damn cigarette. Tell me what’s hurtin’ you, honey. I can’t promise I’ll fix it, but I can swear to you I’ll damn well try my best.” He responds, turning to hold your gaze as his own eyes widen, and his brows turn down. Puppy eyes, you think. 

Your brain has gone from hazy to too fucking clear in a matter of five minutes, and now it feels like your thoughts are gonna come ripping out of your head. So you just blink at him, again, before reaching an unsteady hand out to cup his cheek. “I’m okay, I swear. Just-you remember that deal I had to cut last month? With the sicario? For intel on that lab?” Peña nods, and you continue. “Fucker led me to a dead end. Ambushed me. O-only got out ‘cause his gun jammed, and his child-soldier ran away. I just-this is so fucking dumb I’ve been in worse but- I can’t get it out of my head. The shit he said to me, the way he looked at me, t-touched me. I should be dead or worse, Peña. And I nearly was.“ you look down again, ashamed of the truth that’s spilling out of your mouth. It’s so small, so weak, you just want to fold into yourself and never come out. Your voice wobbles towards the end, tears filling your eyes as you turn your head away from the man you’ve wanted for so long to save whatever dignity you still have left. “‘N I can’t sleep anymore. Just see- or feel him every time. So thought I’d work for a bit. Clearly didn’t fucking work out, though.” small hiccups have started to punctuate your words, testament to the tears now flowing down your cheeks. Peña pulls up to an unfamiliar building and turns to you.

“‘S Javi, honey. Look at me, pretty baby.” He cradles your chin between his thumb and his forefinger to turn your head towards him. “None of that was stupid, okay? Come lie down at my place. I’ll sit in a damn chair next to you and fight him away if he comes in your dreams, sweetheart, okay? Nothin’ to be ‘fraid of. Never letting any fuckers near you again.” Javi leans in to brush a kiss to your forehead before stepping out of the car and hooking his index and middle finger to beckon you too. You step out of the truck and towards him, smiling while swiping at your face. “Didn’t know this was what the girls meant every time they bragged about sleeping with you” you snark softly, with a teasing grin on your face as you reach him. Javi rolls his eyes playfully before unlocking the door.

“Ain’t gotta do no sleepin’ you don’t want to, honey. You’re here to get some rest. Be a good girl and sleep f’me, and I’ll keep you up for as long as you like after,” he  throws over his shoulder with a matching grin and a wink.

#javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fluff #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #javier peña #steve murphy #narcos fanfiction #javi #soft javi #fluff #hurt/comfort #ive never done this before let’s see how this goes heehee #javier pena fic #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena imagines #javier pena narcos #narcos #cool-iguana