#//just casually taking off his clothes as soon as he's through the door | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zegrasdrysdale · 2 months

Note

Could you write some thigh riding smut with Ethan Edwards? Reader and Ethan are just friends when it happens so maybe they’re hanging out and it somehow leads to sex. Bonus points if there’s jealousy and dirty talk lol

[ that way ] e. edwards

paring : Ethan Edwards x fem!reader

summary : jealousy gets the best of Ethan's best friend when she comes into town to watch him play some hockey

warning(s) : smut ! spoilers for "my best friend's wedding" (1997 movie), jealousy, dirty talk, thigh riding, multiple orgasms, p in v penetrative sex, protected sex

author’s note : you asked, i rewrote multiple times bc i wasn't happy w it, it deleted itself once, then i delivered (i hope). enjoy <3

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The puck finds the back of the net. The lamp lights up and the horn goes off. Everyone that’s wearing a yellow and blue jersey in Yost Arena is on their feet immediately. (Y/N) celebrates with the crowd in her borrowed jersey. She smiles and cheers while all the Michigan boys come out onto the ice to celebrate their overtime win right in front of her.

Ethan looks up into the stands right at his best friend. He points at her with a smile on his face even though she’s about six rows off the glass. She waves at him before he goes back to celebrating with his team. He gives helmet taps and he gets helmet taps.

He looks good in full gear on the ice. She may have to come to Michigan more often to come watch him play. It's very rare that she gets to come out to watch Ethan play for Michigan. It's not like she hasn’t been watching him play their entire lives. Even when she wasn’t allowed to go out and watch him play.

One time when she was grounded at 13, she snuck out of the house to go watch him play despite knowing both of Ethan’s parents were at the game. They didn’t snitch on her though. She was thankful because she got to watch him score two goals and get an assist on the game winner. She's been like a daughter to them since she and Ethan met in preschool.

Slowly, the players make their way off the ice and she finds her way to the hallway with the door that leads to the locker rooms. She leans against the wall outside the door because she doesn’t want to see something that would scar her for life.

She shoots Ethan a text so he knows she’s waiting for him. He doesn’t respond so she assumes he’s either talking to his coach or taking his postgame shower.

To keep busy, she scrolls through her social media and likes a few posts. She tweets pictures of Ethan on the ice when he was warming up and when he scored a goal in the second period. They quickly begin to circulate on Twitter and Instagram.

The door opens and some of Ethan’s teammates begin to start walking out with their wet hair and casual clothes on. Some of them say hi and that it's nice to see her as they walk past. Rutger tells her that Ethan is coming out “soon”. Soon for Ethan Edwards is either five minutes or a half an hour.

“Soon” this time means ten minutes. Ethan comes out in a button up, his letter jacket, nice dress pants, and a Michigan beanie. “Hey,” he says. “Glad you could make it. Sorry I didn’t get to see you before the game started.”

She smiles and gives him a side hug. One of his arms drapes over her shoulders and her arm wraps around his waist. “I’m here for a few days so you can make it up to me,” she tells him. “What do you think of the jersey? Stole it from your closet after Seamus let me into the house.”

Ethan backs away and looks at (Y/N) in his jersey. She turns in a slow circle so he can get a good look at her in the jersey. “Looks better on you than it does on me,” he admits. “Good to know that you still rock my name and number on your back.”

(Y/N) laughs but she wishes she could rock his name in another way. “So what’s the plan for tonight?” she asks. “Just hang out? Watch a movie? Show me around Ann Arbor?”

Before he can respond, a girl comes running up from behind Ethan and jumps on his back. She wraps herself around him. “That was a sexy goal you scored tonight, Eddy,” she says into his ear. “Looked good doing it too.”

Ethan smiles and turns his head to look at the girl in the Michigan hockey hoodie. “You think so?”

“Know so,” she giggles. “You’re so hot when you put the puck in the back of the net.” The girl begins pressing kisses against his jaw. He laughs and (Y/N) bites her bottom lip so she doesn’t say anything. It takes everything not to say some snarky comment.

She knows girls constantly throw themselves at him. Ethan isn't afraid to call her after one of his one night stands. He is one of the most attractive guys she knows, he’s super smart, and one of the most talented hockey players that she's ever seen play. He knows it too and doesn't shy away from the attention.

It isn’t a secret that girls on this campus want to hook up with him or be with him.

What is a secret is her feelings for her best friend. She is no better than the girls that throw themselves at Ethan. If she could then she would, but they’re friends and that would be crossing a line that shouldn’t be crossed. There's no going back if that line gets crossed.

And she's terrified of crossing that line. It doesn't mean she doesn't get jealous of other girls that tell Ethan how sexy he is and how good he looks when he scores goals without crossing that line. She wishes she could be one of those girls that gets to throw herself at him.

"You and your teammates should come to the party that happening at the house tonight," she suggests. "I think it would be super fun to hang out with the hockey team. To hang out with you. You can even bring your little friend here. She looks like she could use a good party." The girl looks her up and down in Ethan's jersey.

That last comment really pisses her off though. She completely loses her filter, and she's not even sorry.

"Who do you think you're talking to?" she asks, eyes boring into the girl on Ethan's back. "You can hop right off my boy's back now and find someone else to fuck tonight because I promise you that he isn't interested in fucking you. Bye bye." She waves goodbye to put some emphasis on her words.

The girl lowers herself back to the ground with a roll of her eyes. Ethan looks between the nameless girl and (Y/N) as the nameless girl shoulder tackles her. She resists every urge to punch this girl in the face despite the pain in her shoulder as she walks away.

She looks back at Ethan when the nameless girl leaves the arena. She follows her outside so they can go home after a minute. He blinks at her when they get in his car before he says, "I don't think I have ever seen you get like that."

"Like what?"

"So possessive," Ethan tells her as he starts his car. He pulls out of the parking spot and heads toward the house he lives in with Dylan, Tyler, and Luca. "Almost like you were jealous of her."

Her head snaps in his direction to look at him. "I wasn't jealous of her," she lies. "I was protecting you. The amount of calls I've gotten at two in the morning because you're upset that another girl left you in your bed is a little ridiculous."

"You're not wrong about that," he comments. "I guess it is ridiculous."

Every time Ethan's girl of the night leaves him after a party or bringing a girl back after a game, he calls his best friend and she gets to hear all about the sex or how he thought she was the one that wasn't going to leave him.

She's gotten very tired of it so she's taking a stand for him.

"So, you never told me what the plan was for the night since it's my first night in Ann Arbor," she says as Ethan turns out of the parking lot. "We could go to that party she was talking about if you want, or I'm perfectly okay with staying in tonight since you have another game tomorrow."

Ethan glances at her as she drives. "Is there something you'd like to do?" he asks. "You're here for a week so I'm also okay if you don't want to go out tonight. There will be parties during the week we can go to if you're okay with snacks and a movie or two. I'm pretty sure my roommates are going out tonight anyway so we'll have the house to ourselves to catch up."

Ideas flow through her head. She wants to do a lot in the next seven days that she's in Michigan before she heads back to Alberta.

Tonight though, she just wants to spend time with Ethan without worrying about which girl is going to throw herself at him next.

"Movie night with snacks sounds really nice," she eventually tells him.

He smiles and makes a turn. "You can look through my Netflix when we get back to the house," he tell her. "I need to take a longer shower when we get back so while I'm in the bathroom, you can find a movie that we can watch."

She nods and scrolls through her phone while Ethan drives. It's not a long drive from Yost to the house he shares with three of his closest friends and teammates. It's maybe ten minutes before Ethan pulls into the driveway. There are no other cars in the driveway so he was right about them having the house to themselves tonight.

A very excited (Y/N) gets out of the car and Ethan is quick to follow her. She has an idea of what movie she wants to watch but she has to check to make sure it's on Netflix before she gets too excited about it.

Ethan disappears into the bathroom that's attached to his bedroom. She disappears into the kitchen to gather some snacks for them to eat while they have their movie night.

She makes some popcorn but also puts together a candy bowl filled with M&Ms, Reese's Cups, mini Twix, and Hershey Kisses. Sweet and savory choices for them. She even grabs two cans of soda that are in the fridge so they have something to drink.

When she walks into Ethan's room with the bowls of snacks and cans of soda, he is walking out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. She has to look away before she stares at the water droplets rolling down his chest.

"Jesus, E," she gasps. She almost drops the snacks and drinks so she can cover her eyes. Ethan uses his hands to cover his crotch like she can see through the towel around his waist. "You couldn't have brought clothes into the bathroom with you?"

"I did," Ethan replies. "I forgot underwear. I opened the door so see if you were in here and you weren't so I wrapped a towel around myself. You were in here when I came out to put on underwear."

She glances at Ethan as he pulls up the pair of boxers over his waist. His back is to her so she admires him from behind for a second. His thighs are insane and every single back muscle works as he dresses himself. He turns his head to look at her as soon as he's wearing a shirt again. She quickly looks at the snacks in her hands to act like she wasn't watching him get dressed.

"Warn a girl before you walk into a room with nothing but a towel on, Ethan," she tells him as she sets the bowls and cans down on the table next to his bed. She crawls onto the mattress and grabs the TV remote.

"It's not like you haven't seen me naked before," he says.

"It has been literally like fifteen years since I saw you naked," she retorts. "It's your fault we were even in that situation because you decided to cover both of us in mud. Your mother decided that it would be funny to bathe us together."

Ethan laughs and crawls onto his bed next to her. "My bad," he says. "Anyway. Did you find a movie to watch or are we winging it?"

She loads his Netflix account and replies, "I think I know what I want to watch but I have to make sure it's still on here. If it's not then we'll wing it."

"Okay," he slowly says. "What movie?"

As soon as he asks, My Best Friend's Wedding pops up when she goes into the romance movies section. Ethan raises his eyebrows and looks over at her when she clicks it. "Seriously?"

"What?" she asks. "It's a romcom. I know you don't watch many of those so I thought we could watch one of my favorite ones." Ethan frowns. "Come on, E. You'll love it. I promise."

He sighs as the movie begins to play. “If I hate it then we are going to watch Miracle or Mighty Ducks,” he tells her. Sounds like a plan to her so she nods in agreement.

She hands Ethan his soda and he cracks it open.

Picking My Best Friend's Wedding was kind of a hint in a way since Julia Roberts' character is in love with her best friend, who is marrying someone else. She didn't lie when she said it's one of her favorite romcoms though. She adores this movie and loves Julia Roberts.

He seems very into the movie though. Not once does he complain about how stupid it is. It's throwing her off a little bit.

Ethan reaches over her to grab one of the snack bowls around what she thinks is the halfway point of the movie. "I could've given it to you, asshole," she tells him. "You didn't have to reach over me when I'm trying to watch the movie."

"I just wanted some candy," he replies with a mouthful of chocolate. "I need to munch while watching the movie, (Y/N)."

She laughs and looks over at him as he stuffs a Reese's Cup in his mouth. She steals one of the Hershey Kisses out of the bowl and tosses it into her mouth. Ethan smiles and does the same. She shakes her head and goes back to watching the movie.

As she watches one of her favorite scenes toward the end of the movie, she's slightly on edge. She's very still the entire time. It's the scene where Julia Roberts' character Jules tells her best friend Michael, played by Dermot Mulroney, that she is in love with him and they share a kiss.

When she quickly glances beside her at Ethan, she finds him already looking at her. She quickly turns her head and looks away from him. Her cheeks begin to heat up like she’s embarrassed that he caught her looking at him.

He catches her chin and turns her head back so she’s looking at him again before she’s fulling facing the movie.

“Eth-”

“Please don’t say anything or else I won’t be able to do this,” he says to interrupt her.

She raises her eyebrows in confusion as Ethan’s thumb brushes over her bottom lip. His eyes flicker down to her lips before moving back up to her eyes. The eye contact they’re holding makes her entire body shake with excitement and anticipation.

Ethan doesn’t make any moves. His eyes float and study every part of her face, taking in every detail that he can see in the mostly dark room.

Very hesitantly, she throws a leg over one of his thighs and she straddles his leg. Ethan pushes her hair behind her ear and cups her jaw.

The entire time, they hold each other’s eyes. The tips of their noses touch every time Ethan moves in then backs away like he’s unsure.

“Do something,” she whispers, desperate. Her hands rest on his chest. “Ethan. Kiss me.”

He wastes no time.

Ethan sits up and wraps his arms around her waist to pull her closer to him. He crashes his lips to hers like he’s done holding back. She leans into him and deepens the kiss, pushing him back until he’s sitting up against the headboard.

The movie is soon forgotten about behind her. All she can hear is her own heart pounding in her ears. She no longer had any idea of what is going on behind her because she’s so focused on what’s in front of her.

She feels Ethan’s hands slither up the back of the jersey she’s still wearing. She never took it off and switched to a pair of black Lululemon shorts after she took off her leggings. A smile forms on Ethan’s lips when he realizes that she still has on his jersey.

Ethan’s fingers run up and down her back at the same time hers find their way under Ethan’s Michigan hockey t-shirt. She presses her fingers into his abs and sighs. All she has wanted to do since Ethan built up the muscles he has now is touch them.

Now she can.

“Take it off,” Ethan mumbles into a kiss as he pulls at the jersey. “I love seeing you in it but it needs to come off right now."

She reaches down between them and pulls the jersey over her head, breaking the kiss in the process. When she gets the jersey off, she sees Ethan’s eyes are on her body. She bites her bottom lip and grabs the bottom of Ethan’s shirt.

Might as well get it off now before they get distracted again.

Ethan gets the cue and sits up. She pulls the thin fabric off of him and tosses it to the floor with the jersey. Her eyes meet his and she finds a hunger in them that she's never seen before.

Friends definitely don't look at friends that way so something is changing between them. Goosebumps form on her exposed skin as she realizes that this could be the beginning of something new. Their whole relationship is changing with every second and every touch.

He cups her jaw with both his hands and runs his thumbs over her cheekbones.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted you like this," Ethan softly confesses, looking between her eyes.

"I think I have an idea," she whispers as she leans in to connect their lips again.

Their lips make contact with each other and she presses her chest flush against his. In the process, she rolls her hips and grinds her clothed core on his thigh. She gasps at the pressure and Ethan's hands fly to her waist.

She tries it again and lets out a soft whine. She's surprised at how good it feels. Ethan smiles into the kiss as she begins to use his thigh to get off.

It makes sense to her that she would like this. She was just thinking about his thighs earlier when he was getting dressed.

The kiss breaks and she rests her forehead against Ethan's. Soft pants pass her swollen lips and Ethan smiles. "Gonna use my thigh to come?" he asks. "You gonna get off using my thigh, baby?"

"Mhm," she hums. "Feels good. Kind of in love with your thighs, E."

He laughs and helps her move her hips.

She can feel how muscular his thighs are through her shorts and his sweatpants. Just like she thought earlier - his thighs are insane.

A knot already forms in the pit of her belly. Her breathing has gotten very labored and she claws at Ethan's chest, definitely leaving behind some scratch marks he'll get teased for later by his teammates.

"Ethan," she breathes out. "Fuck."

He presses kisses to her jaw. "I got you," he tells her. "Go ahead. Come."

Almost like she was waiting for his permission, she comes with a cry. She ruins her panties and probably her shorts at the same time. Her fingers find Ethan's hair and she lightly grips his locks because she needs something to hold onto.

Ethan peppers her jaw and cheek with light kisses as she lays her head on his shoulder while she comes down from her high. He lightly brushes her hair out of her face and she hums a little "thank you".

"Feel better?" he asks. "Got it out of your system?"

She rolls her eyes and lifts her head as soon as she has enough strength to. "For now," she retorts. "Right now though, I need you to get inside of me because it's all I've been thinking about for years."

He smiles and quickly rolls them over so she's on her back. "Your wish is my command," he says as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of her ruined shorts and panties. "Hope you don't need to walk in the morning."

Her eyes widen as he pulls off the shorts and panties in one go. She lifts her hips off the bed to help him out. She's completely exposed to him now since she went without a bra under the jersey. She crosses her arms over her chest.

Ethan is quick to grab her hands and uncover her body. "Don't hide from me, baby," he tells her. "You're beautiful. I've always thought you were beautiful. You never have to hide from me."

She nods and Ethan gets on his knees between her legs. She watches as he pushes off his boxers and sweats. His dick pops out of his boxers and she bites her bottom lip.

Yeah, she’s not going to be able to walk in the morning. It really is a good thing she doesn’t have to go anywhere.

He leans over and reaches into his bedside table. He had a tiny silver package between his fingers when he comes back to hover over her.

“I need to make sure you are absolutely okay with this,” he says. “You aren’t going to regret this or anything like that. I don’t want you to think that I’m pressuring you-”

“Ethan, if you don’t fuck me in the next two seconds, I am going to get up and go find someone who will,” she interrupts.

His eyes darken when he makes the comment about going to find someone that will fuck her. “Oh hell no,” he mumbles before he tears the condom package open with his teeth. She smiles as he slides the condom onto himself.

Her fingers find a home in Ethan’s hair when he leans over her. She holds his locks from falling into his face since he does have longer hair. He lines himself up with her and meets her eyes. “I trust you, E,” she tells him. “I have always trusted you.” I love you.

With her reassurance, Ethan slowly pushes into her. She gasps and bites her lip. “Fuck, (Y/N),” he breathes out. “So tight. God.”

Being tired of hearing him talk, she leans up and presses her lips to his. She wraps her arms around his neck as he bottoms out in her. Ethan presses his hands into the pillows on either side of her head so he doesn’t crush her.

She rolls her hips so she feels Ethan move inside of her. A soft sigh passes her lips into the kiss. Ethan leans into her and deepens the kiss. Her fingers drag down his back as he finally begins to roll his hips so he moves in and out of her.

The sound of soft whines and moans fill the room until the sound of the bed creaking follows when Ethan speeds up his movements. She breaks the kiss and arches her back off the bed and Ethan kisses her chest.

“Such a good girl for me,” Ethan pants. “Making these pretty noises. Does my cock feel good inside you, baby?”

“S’ good,” she breathes out. “Feels so good, E. You make me feel so good. Fuck.”

He smiles against her skin. He pushes one of her legs up and lets it hook around his arm, and he’s able to move even deeper inside of her. She cries out in pleasure and her head begins to spin.

It’s been years since she realized that she was in love with her best friend. He is all she has wanted since they went to prom together in their senior year of high school.

Even if he doesn’t love her, the fact that he is on top of her means that he has to feel something for her.

Right?

This is a welcomed change in their relationship. Going from friends to this is welcomed.

Her legs begin to shake as her second orgasm of the night starts to build in her belly. Ethan changes his pace every so often but continuously moves deep into her so he’s completely inside of her.

She’s pretty sure her breasts are marked up because of the way Ethan keeps nipping and sucking at the skin. It doesn’t bother her.

Getting marked by Ethan is never going to bother her.

Ethan pulls out then slams into her. “Holy fuck,” she cries out. “Shit, E.”

“Just wanna make my girl feel good,” Ethan pants.

He does it again and she clenches around him. She comes without warning and with Ethan’s name on her lips. Her entire body shakes and her vision goes white.

It’s probably the hardest she has ever come in her life. No one has made her feel as good as Ethan has.

It must be a minute before she comes to because he has a cloth in his hand and is cleaning her up. Her breathing is extremely labored and her entire body feels heavy. He tosses the cloth to the floor with their clothes and she looks at the TV.

‘Are you still watching’ lights up the screen and she can’t help but smile at the realization of what just happened.

Ethan pulls the blankets over their naked bodies and asks, “What’s with the smile?”

She looks up at him and says, “I really liked it. I liked being able to touch and kiss you.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that you wouldn’t mind doing it again?” he questions.

“Absolutely not.”

A loud knock rings out throughout the room and Luca is on the other side as he says, “Walls are thin! I don’t feel like buying ear plugs so please keep it down! Also, it’s about damn time.”

She covers her mouth and laughs. Ethan rolls his eyes and gets comfortable. “I need to move out and get my own place.”

“I second that.”

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fayes-fics · 1 month

Text

Audacious

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel to Impertinent. After your engagement party, Anthony asks you to rendezvous in his office to continue where you left off.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, innocence/corruption kink, sex education, mutual masturbation, orgasms.

Word Count: 2.2k

Authors Note: Sequel request fill for @cleopatraathene to continue the story from Impertinent (ask HERE). Sorry, it's taken so long, my dear. Err, this could well turn into a series at this rate. Thanks to @colettebronte for betaing. Enjoy! <3

The bejewelled band feels weighty around your left ring finger as you rap your knuckles quietly upon his study door. It's late, and the last thing you want is for anyone to know what you are doing.

After a pause, the hinges creak, and a hand snakes out and grabs your arm.

Before you know it, you are dragged through the door, and it closes with you pressed against the other side, the room heady with the scent of recently smoked cigars and expensive brandy. Anthony is casual in just a white shirt, sleeves rolled up around his elbows, braces slung around his hips.

“Fiancée,” he rumbles, his nose trailing up your neck as he leans in, the wood of the door panels digging into your bottom through the thin layer of your silk robe. “Did you enjoy our engagement party?” he queries, teasing your throat with soft kisses.

“Yes,” you answer breathily. “A-And I did as you asked.”

He pauses in his ministrations; you can feel the curve of a smile over your skin. “What did I ask you to do?” he knows the answer; he just wants to hear you say it.

“To return this evening exactly as I was last night.”

He tuts softly, his nose trailing up the cord of your neck. “But you are wearing something, so you are not as you were.”

“I could hardly walk through the halls of your home naked, my lord!” you gasp.

He chuckles richly, his breath hot in your ear. “On the contrary. This is soon to be all yours. As Viscountess, you can do exactly as you wish. Or as I wish. And sometimes, I may wish you to be naked at my bidding,” he straightens up and looks down at you, dark eyes glittering. “Would you do that for me? Would you walk naked where I told you?“

Again, as last night, you feel under a spell. “Yes, my lord,” you whisper truthfully.

“Audacious,” he rasps approvingly, “just how I like it,” the last few words muttered over your lips before capturing them with his.

Your stomach quivers at his praise, then vaults at the first brush of his mouth, knowing that now you are betrothed, he has promised so much more. His lips are warm and soft as he slowly parts your lips, his tongue rolling, requesting entry. Instinctively, you open, a wave of luscious wet heat as his tongue lathes over yours, a dance that has you inside melting and a throb at the apex of your thighs that is entirely foreign but enthralling. As he breaks away, you chase his lips, eyes still closed, wanting more of his heady kisses. He grabs both of your hands and pulls you to the centre of the room, the fire warming the backs of your calves as he releases his hold.

“Take off your robe,” his order soft.

Your trembling hands scramble to obey, making quick work of the knot at your belly, pushing the material off your shoulders so it flutters onto the rug behind you so you are naked. There is a throaty noise and he takes a step back as if to better drink in the view of your body. His lush bottom lips curling under his upper teeth, his eyes covetous, roaming your skin.

“You should never wear clothes,” he opines, backing further away, grabbing a wingback chair and scraping it across the carpet until it is behind him. He takes a seat, his eyes never leaving your form.

“Spin for me.”

Heart beating fast, you rock onto the balls of your feet and rotate away so you face the blazing fire, your back towards him. Then you slowly complete the circle until you are facing him again, his expression ravenous.

“A perfect specimen. Now touch yourself,” the order is gruff.

You frown at him. “Where, my lord?”

“Are you to tell me you have never put your fingers between your legs?” he scoffs, disbelieving.

“N-no, my lord? Should I?’

The dancing flames of the fire are almost too hot on your bottom, as he answers in a cool register. “Yes, you should. But perhaps I should be the one to instruct you as your future husband.”

With that, he stands from his seat, walking purposely towards you, his boots heavy on the rug as you take a deep breath. He grabs your right wrist, bringing your fingers up to his lips and engulfing them in his hot mouth, his tongue questing against the pads of your fingers, the suckle of his lips sensual and damp.

With a salacious pop, he pulls off your fingers, his lips quirking into a knowing smile as he guides your wetted fingers to your chest.

“Touch your nipples,” he instructs quietly.

You gasp as his cooling saliva meets your flushed, puffy areola, puckering instantly under the pad of your fingers.

“That feels good, does it not?” he dusks, wrapping his hand over yours to direct your caressing of yourself, his fingers never touching your nipple but directing your movement like a puppeteer, taking the fingers of your left hand and repeating the suckling action, guiding your fingers to your other nipple.

All you can do is nod and bite your lip, pushing up into your own hands, squirming slightly from foot to foot, feeling a dampness smear on your inner thighs as you do, your tummy replete with butterflies under his heavy gaze.

He guides your fingers over the swell of your lower breast and down over your stomach, chuckling as the teasing trail of your own fingers makes you giggle lightly, your belly rippling. His eyes flash as his hand guides yours lower, trailing into the patch of hair at the apex of your thighs, something thronging between your legs at the molten look on his face.

Two of his fingers curl over the back of yours, turning your middle and pointer fingers into a hook before he pushes your hand lower. Again, you gasp as your fingers slide at his insistence into some folds of skin between your legs, damp and sticky. His face is dashingly mischievous as he places those hooked fingers over a certain swollen nub and swirls them slowly in an anticlockwise motion. You startle at the spike of pleasure that rushes through your body, the epicentre under your attentions.

“How does that feel, fiancée?” he murmurs, tone like velvet.

All you can do is stutter his name on a shaky exhale, your other hand shooting out to grab his muscular forearm where it presses your belly, the dark hairs there tickling your palm as you grip around him, needing the anchor, your knees feeling oddly weak.

“Oh, you like that…” he huffs, amused, as he crowds into you, his hand covering yours between your legs, dictating your movements, a shiver running down your spine at the fizzles of pleasure sparking around your body. “Do not stop,” his voice low, resonant, his lips hot on your temple, you moaning lightly and leaning into him.

A sweet-tart scent fills the air, your fingers coated in a slick, viscous substance that can only be from your own body, a soft, wet noise emanating from where you touch yourself.

“That is my favourite sound in the world,” Anthony sighs into your ear, “so ripe and ready for me…just wait until we are married.”

“What will happen?” you inhale, trying your best to concentrate even as you feel your body swelling under your own touch, engorged, hot, craving more friction.

“All in good time…” he answers enigmatically, his breath a touch uneven.

The slightly rough texture of his cotton shirt snags delightfully against your nipples as you writhe, riding your own fingers and his, wishing it were his skin touching yours. There is something hard in his britches that rubs your stomach with each move you make.

“Do not stop,” he gruffs.

You whine as he steps away, craving his heat, his toned body glorious to rub yourself against, akin to a cat.

“My lord…” you mewl, appealing for him to return, swaying unsteadily on your feet even as you continue to touch yourself as instructed.

“That is it, keep going up,” he encourages, retaking the seat and staring at you covetously, one of his hands falling to his lap, palming a swelling there.

“What are you doing, my lord?”

You are intrigued by his soft panting as he roughly tugs at the buttons on his trousers.

“I am doing as you are,” he groans, “I am touching myself, My cock.”

With that, he fishes something out from his white underwear that makes you inhale sharply. A red, almost angry looking rod of flesh that stands proud of his body from a dark thatch of hair. The slight is intriguing and makes you pulse heavily between your legs as if innately knowing it belongs there.

You feel yourself moving towards him, like a magnetic pull, your fingers still sliding over that hardened pearl between your legs as you get closer, hypnotised by the sight of his hand, now in a fist, moving up and down his swollen cock.

“Cock…” it falls from your lips reflexively as you stare.

He groans loudly at your utterance, a shiny pearl of wetness pooling at his tip as he does so.

You feel feverish, not just because of the roaring fire in the hearth, but a blaze inside, a flush running through you that makes your mind feel both fuzzy and sharp, singular in pursuit of pleasure, your fingers moving faster now between your legs, varying your speed and motion.

He hisses his approval as your knees buckle, sinking to a kneel on the rug, your knees splaying wide, your fingers freer to move, but your eyes never leave his hand, his motion a quick twisting tug now.

“Does that not hurt?” you blurt out breathily, not pausing, chasing a high you can feel hovering so tantalisingly close, a tingle over your lips and the back of your scalp.

“No, it feels just as good as your fingers do on you,” he assures, broken, huffing now. “I will teach you,” he adds, meeting your gaze heatedly when your eyes ping to his face briefly.

Something about this feels so decadent and luxurious, the same as his velvet jacket was on your skin last night, the garment that catalysed this whole tumultuous journey.

“Swap hands,” he commands, cutting into your wayward tangent, and you find yourself obeying on instinct. “Give me that other,” he rejoins. Before you know it, the fingers that were between your legs are in his mouth, his tongue curling and sucking wantonly, feeling the vibration of his groan over your fingertips as he cleans all your juices from your fingers, his hand a frenzy on his cock now.

Your other hand feels different; something about the catch of your blunt fingernails between your legs has you hurtling towards some crescendo, your skin feeling almost too tight over your bones, a pressure behind your ribs as your heart thunders, almost like you are trying so hard to chase and hold in something explosive.

“Oh, you are there, aren't you?” Anthony growls around your fingers still in his mouth, sounding wild, his motions untamed, gusting deep breaths out of his nose as he leans forward, eyes intense and glassy.

All you can do is nod, almost frantic, as if seeking permission to break, circling an abyss. Your fingers fall from his mouth as he groans loudly.

“Come for me, fiancée,” he grits out.

Unsure what that means, you just keep moving, feeling something snap inside that has you calling out and curling over, a scream escaping your lungs as your body seems to retract and explode outwards, your mind scattered to the wind as an ecstatic wave fans out from your core around your body, your muscles twitching.

You are brought back to the room by a noise he makes—hungry, gravelly, all male. As your breath returns, your eyes reopen to see him in the throes of ecstasy: an arresting sight. One curl of hair flopped over his dewy forehead, his lower lip caught under his upper teeth, eyes wild and unfocused, then screwing shut as he roars, his hand a frenzy on his cock which seems to pulse in his fist before spurting a substance in an arc part of which splashes warm across your chest, taking you by surprise.

That seems to signal he has reached a peak, too, his body wracked by a few aftershocks before he slumps back into the chair, panting, his hand slackening as he stares transfixed at the sticky streak of his cum over the upper swell of your breast.

“Are you well, husband?” you check, fascinated but concerned.

He doesn't correct the title you bestow upon him. “More than,” is his laconic, sated response, an easy smile claiming his face as he unfurls a sleeve to tenderly clean your breasts of his seed. “This is only the beginning,” he promises, cupping your cheek affectionately. “Run along and get some rest; we shall meet here again tomorrow.”

You cannot wait.

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @notanotheruniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282 @kisskissshutmydoor @hanji-emo-blog @y0ur-favgerman @Huffelpuffforlife @0x1harmonia0x1 @sya-skies @balladynaaa

#anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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imninahchan · 3 months

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⌜ 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮: strangers to lovers, my poor spanish skills, casual and unprotected sex [you can't do that, c'mon!], readerʼs a brazilian woman, some portuguese words, dirty talk, age difference, finger sucking, male oral, manhandling, light pussy spanking, ʽpapiʼ, dumbification, dacryphilia. ˚ ☽ ˚.⋆ ⌝

꒰ 𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑹ʼ𝑺 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬 ꒱ sooo never thought about posting something in eng but @femmechaotic (thx baby) showed me her translation and i gave it a second chance. This was originally written by me in portuguese, thatʼs why the reader is brazilian. Eng is not our first language, sorry for any mistakes, just posting for the fun of it♡

𓍢ִ໋🀦 HE'S THE KIND OF MAN YOU'LL ONLY MEET ONCE IN A LIFETIME ─────

You realized this from the moment you laid eyes on him for the first time. Sitting a couple of tables away from his, on the balcony of the hotel lobby.

You simply couldn't help but notice it: the thick strands of dark hair, how his hands run through it, as the gentle morning wind blowed. The basic white tank top, a coat hanging over the chair next to him at the table. His big and pointed nose, his eyes hidden mysteriously behind the lenses of the fancy sunglasses.

He's definitely not Brazilian. You could tell just by the food he chose from the buffet on his plate. Youʼre just so genuinely intrigued by the whole set of ongoings, obsessed with watching him, that you forgot about your own — boring — breakfast. The buns were cooling next to the black coffee in the porcelain cup.

You wanted to open the messaging app on your phone and send a sassy comment to your best friend, saying something like: “omg u won't believe how cute is the guy i just saw”, but you didn't even have time for that. The man raises his chin, with his attention shifting from the phone device in his hands to noticing your presence ahead.

You look down immediately, feeling as if you had committed a crime and you've just been caught in the act. You bite your lip, trying to hold down a childish smile, like a vicious little girl. Your palms starts sweating; suddenly cold. The intention was to keep yourself busy with the porcelain cup in the short meantime, trying to deal with the awkward sensation of being caught.

Itʼs not working, of course. You didn't know whether to drink or not, sometimes you try to sip the hot liquid, but you give up halfway through, lost like a robot in a breakdown. And when he raises his eyes once more, in the same direction as you looked for so long, the man's gaze meet yours again.

It feels, apparently, like youʼre going to faint, to actually die, Jesus! You've never felt so embarrassed in your entire life and you insist on thinking about how you're never gonna be able to eat, think or breathe while being in this crime scene — also known as the balcony of the hotel lobby.

“Get up, then!”, you think to yourself. You pick up on a couple of the cold buns from the plate, taking a sip of the — now cold — coffee, and walking towards the lobby. Like, damn, youʼre not even dressed up, maybe the clothes are not so bad but you donʼt even have any makeup on or hair done the way you liked it so much (and did it religiously every day).

But there is an actual explanation for you not being ready. The plan, initially, was just having breakfast and enjoying the view for a short period of time, so you could visit the downtown in Madrid afterwards. Now, you are running away like a criminal, with your mouth full of bread heading towards the elevator.

When you finally thought that the closing of the gray automatic doors would mean freedom, your heart has one more reason to flutter, as soon as the man steps into the cubicle before he could lose the sight of you.

You decide to chew more quickly, hiding the other roll of bun between your hands. Standing next to you, he takes off his pair of glasses, holding his coat and a crossbody bag.

He looks at you.

— Enzo — he says, and from the way he announced his name, you can tell by his accent that he speak Spanish. You swipe the back of your hand over your mouth, wiping away any remaining crumbs.

— Oi... hmm — You stammer the response in Portuguese, automatically panicking again for a few seconds when realizing that your brain couldn't think of a greeting, even in your first language. After some quick struggles, you tell him your name.

— ¿Eres de aquí? ¿de Madrid? (Are you from here? From Madrid?)

— Ahm... — You stutter, again (unfortunately). — Brasil!

He smiles.

— Ah, sí. Brasil... ¡Es un lugar magnífico! (Oh, yes. Brasil... It's a wonderful place!) — and praises. But his gaze turns sharp, he needs to know: “Entiendes lo que digo, ¿no?” (Do you understand what I say, right?)

— Sí, sí! (Yeah, yes!) — you return with a wide smile back at him, almost hyperventilating.

Your desperation is pathetically noticeable, itʼs cute actually. He watched you, smiles softly, almost like a chuckle. The curiosity gets into your nerves, you wanted to ask more questions, extend the conversation, but the elevator reaches your floor, and you leave, too withdrawn to say anything.

“Shit”, you curse at yourself, it wasn't so difficult to have a decent small talk, you should've said something, anything. You brood all day long, thinking you're such a dummy for missing the opportunity. Why did you have to act like a stupid teenager, huh? Then, after what happened, not even the museums — that you were so excited to visit — were fun anymore, no place in this goddamn city could take away that little thread of regret from you.

In the next day, however, you go down for some coffee at the same time as you did the other day, with the foolish intention of trying to see him again, and thatʼs it, it worked; like a freaking miracle. The man was sitting in an armchair in the lobby, it seemed like he was waiting for you too, what were the odds?

You can even feel your legs wobble.

— ¡Buenos días! (Good morning!) — he greets you. — ¿Cómo se dice ‘Buenos días’ en Brasil? (How do you say ‘Good morning’ in Portuguese?)

It takes a few seconds for you to think and say it back, ‘Bom dia’ (Good morning), you respond. He smiles.

— Es muy parecido (It's pretty similar) — he comments, awkwardly. Then, looks at the buffet, “¿Vamos?” (Shall we?)

Although he sometimes used terms that you completely donʼt know the meaning of and have to ask him to explain again, the conversation is, apparently, going very well. You discover that he is older, Uruguayan, and not Spanish as you immediately thought he was. You tell him a little about the country you come from, and he gets enchanted by the way your accent pronounces his name. Enzo. Paying attention to the ʽzʼ sound, unlike the pronunciation in Spanish.

it was with his company that you explored the city. The both of you went to a small square together, had some ice cream, met tourists hotspots, then chatted while exploring a little shop nearby. You hated to admit it but the situation was indeed romantic. Later in the afternoon, you were taken by him to a bar.

There, the conversation extended even further, including the beer you guys shared. When you didn't understand anything he said, (what was quite often in the conversation) you just laughed, your cheeks getting really hot and red from smiling that much. Honestly, you could leave him talking to himself for hours, just because you loved the husky sound of his deep voice and his pair of brown sparkling eyes.

It didn't mean that you were in love or anything, right? Besides, there was no way you could fall in love in such a short period of time.

But the heat you felt emanating from your own body definitely meant something. It could be because of the dark blue button-down shirt — these pieces never fail to be attractive, right? —, or the silver ring that caught your eyes every time he articulated with his hands in the air. Even his perfume... ah, the perfume! A fragrance that filled your lungs, woody but with a slight sweet note. Projecting all day long, torturing, practically inviting you to bury your face in the curve of the moreno's neck.

At nighttime, he takes you back to the hotel: his excuse was that he wanted to help you with the shopping bags, as if you had bought all of Madrid. And it was supposed to end there, at your hotel room door, simple as that. He hands you your things, and the most he does is lean over, slowly, as if he is silently asking for permission, and so, he places a small kiss on the corner of your mouth, millimeters away from touching your lipstick-painted lips. But you hold his hand, before the man walks away down the hall, you donʼt let him escape.

He approaches you again, his other hand touches the corner of your face. Warm, affectionate. ¿Qué te pasa, nena? (What's wrong with you, baby?) The focus of his brown eyes are on your mouth now, the question is whispered, seductive. The touch of his fingers bypass your jaw until it gets on your chin. ¿Quieres algo más que un beso? (Do you want something more than a kiss?)

Youʼre not sure which words to use, which command to prefer. In fact, you donʼt even want to be thinking. You want to shut your brain, to be so dissociated so that only your body can enjoy the moment. You wrapp your arms around him, your face can finally hid in the curve of his neck, breathing in the intoxicating scent of his. You hear the sound of his chuckle, feeling his big hands being placed on your waist. ¿Qué quieres? Dímelo. (What do you want? tell me)

You look up to him, shy. The tip of your nose rubs against his, creating a friction that, just because of the absurd proximity, makes everything even more tense, burning erotic.

— No Brasil — you say, trying to hide it by biting your lip —, se diz ‘foder.’

Enzo's smile grows, almost in slow motion. “Foder” (fuck), he repeats the word in a whisper. Again, you donʼt even have to think much to understand. Everything sounded similar, and it seemed that your mind was connected to his by a chaotic carnal desire.

The Uruguayan's lips meets yours; his hot tongue brushes against yours. Your bodies take on a life of their own. Little by little, the main setting stopped being the hotel hallway and became your room. The door gets closed with a gentle push from his feet, while the chosen path is towards your bed.

His hands moves up from your waist to grab your blouse and take it off from your warm body. When you lay on the mattress, supporting on your elbows, itʼs the cue the man needeed to messily pull down your shorts.

— ¿Quieres ponerte de rodillas? (Do you want to be on your knees?) — he asks, as he unbuttons his own blouse. The sharp look he gives you, bathed in desire, delirious. On his lips, you notice the smudged red of your lipstick. — Correrme en tu boca... (Cum in your mouth...)

Maybe itʼs your mind lost in urgency, because you donʼt process what was said to you. You keep your eyes still, your mouth half-open, taking in air, panting. So pathetic that all he does is laugh at your face, running his hands through his hair instead of going straight to the belt of his shorts.

— ¿Qué? ¿No lo comprendes, no? (What? you don't understand it, do you?) — the tone used with you bordered mockery. And contrary to what you would normally feel like, it gives room to a sick feeling, butterflies in your stomach, you feel even more horny, stimulated. He leans in close. — Mira. (Look)

And as if you were learning something for the first time, you imitate him when he parts his lips. You let the man's thumb drag over your lower lip, and then his middle and index fingers together slide over your tongue, until they occupy your mouth. “Así” (like that), he pushes and retreats with his hand, in a slow, sensual movement, “Metértelo en la boca.” (Put it in your mouth)

Ah, now you understand him well. Your face burns, the wet way the fingers come out of your mouth, a little strand of saliva kept resisting in the distance, itʼs wanton. You nod, kneeling on the wooden floor, eyes glued to him unbuckling his belt until you could have his erection in full view.

You part your lips once again, as you were ‘taught’. He fills your mouth, up to a point where your nose touches his crotch, and comes back, completely wet. It allows the Uruguayan to control the pace, to catch the corner of your face. You raise your gaze to his, surrendered not only by the lasciviousness of what you were doing, but also by the beautiful view you had of his face from that angle.

Enzo uses the index finger of his free hand to run down the curve of your nose, affectionately.

— Qué ojitos más bonitos... (You have such beautiful little eyes) — he praises you, with a smile. At that moment, you could swear your heart felt like it exploded. — Eres tan bella, nena. Preciosa. (You are so beautiful, baby. Precious) — he sighs, his head falls back, then to a slide side angle. He looks at you in such a mischievous way that you avoid returning the look. — Me encantaría correrme en tu boca... pero prefiero guardarlo todo para dentro de ti. (I would love to cum into your mouth... but I prefer to keep it all inside you)

You get taken back to bed, easily manhandled by him when you silently gave up control of the situation. He comes over, dangerously close, unlocked the front fitting of your bra, getting lost between your breasts as soon as he releases them from the tightness of the piece. You hold onto his hair, restless under the delicious sucking of his tongue, the wild bite of his teeth. You gasp, having to move away from the black threads of his hair while his mouth travels down your belly.

He releases you from the last piece of underwear too, the wet kisses were loud and pornographic, crackling on your skin. The tip of his big nose rubs lightly over the area where he knew your sensitive clit was. His palm run through your wetness, the chill of the his silver ring sliding across your boiling skin.

He clicks two, three slaps in a row that makes you shudder, whimpering softly. Enzo smiles, he didn't need to, but he returned to that mocking tone from before, of someone who had to calmly spell out the commands so you could understand.

He brings his hand to your lips, gave a little tap on the top, de aquí, and then went all the way down again, leaving a wet trail until he gave your pussy another tap, a aquí. And itʼs these little details that makes everything even better. It makes you feel so dumb, foolish, but itʼs so strangely good...

When he puts himself inside you, you lock your legs around his waist, wrapping your arms around him, feeling him dominate everything in you. He, however, insists on eye contact, lifting his torso, resting his forearm against the mattress, to look you in the eye. He smiles, panting like you; moaning low, hoarse. At first, slow, but soon he surrendered to the speed, to the sharp sound of your moans with each stronger thrust.

And there where so many thrilling impulses, fuck it... You want to cover your mouth, close your eyes to try to contain yourself. Itʼs the nasty noise of your bodies in shock, his deep voice, the scent of his hot skin. Youʼre so sensitive that your eyes get wet, a little tear runs down your cheek.

— Oh, no... Perdón, perdóname, cariño. (Oh, no... I'm so sorry, honey) — he stops, his thumb wipes the tear from your face.

'En—', you even started to want to call his name, but the frustration of no longer receiving the same thrilling sensations and to the same extent was such that you only knew how whine; your mind melting, finally murmuring “Dale, dale, papi.” (Give it to me, please, daddy)

Enzo smiles again. He leaves a few kisses on your lips, repeating your words between the kisses, as if he was making fun of your desperation and also the term you used to refer to him.

— ¿Más rápido, hm? Más duro? (Faster, hm? Harder?) — he turns you over on the bed, putting you on all fours. The dirty talk makes you smile, dumb with lust already, clinging to one of the pillows. The Uruguayan's body lead over yours, bringing his mouth close to your ear. — Tranquila, nena. Te daré todo lo que quieras. ( Calm down, baby. I will give you everything you want.)

#imninahchan #enzo vogrincic #enzo vogrincic fanfic #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic smut #la sociedad de la nieve #the society of the snow #a sociedade da neve

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koolades-world · 3 months

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lol thought this would be funny since I ran out of tp while shitting yesterday

Mc asking the brothers to pass them something from the bathroom

Lucifer

doesn't think much of it and is normal about it

walks up to the door stone faced and is ready to pass it to you as soon as you open the door

either lectures you about being forgetful or lectures whoever's job it was to restock the bathroom

asks you about it later to make sure everything went alright which could be potentially very embarrassing

Mammon

depending on what you need, he may or may not be normal about it

passes you toilet paper casually and while on his phone

but if you ask for your clothes or a towel, he gets a little jumpy about it

even saying boo through the door might scare him LOL

Levi

maybe don't even try asking him because he might not even see the text until a few hours later

if you call him, don't explain the situation since he might shut down

if he does so happen to see it in a reasonable time, he's going to act like you have the flu

actually might just leave it right by the door and run off before you even open it

Satan

also pretty normal

smoothly asks if you need any help wink wink but just let him know that you need toilet paper lol

actually just teleports it right in for both of your convivence

won't stop you if you make it a regular habit to ask him to teleport you things haha

Asmo

in all realness, you're probably in his private bathroom

you can't run out of anything in there

but if you're in the shower already and the thing you need is on the counter, just yell to him since he's probably in his room

before hand just let him know you just need that thing and he can kiss you after your shower lol

Beel

the quickest of the brothers!

hope you don't mind crumbs on whatever you need though

feel like that's a fair tradeoff

he doesn't say anything when he gives it to you, but does smile if you can see his face

Belphie

in contrast, the slowest brother besides Levi

he sees the message but usually takes his sweet time unless he's right next to the thing you need

you might have to snatch it from him since he seems like the type to make it a game

demand it by threatening to revoke his right to nap with you; that works quickly

#obey me #obey me!#obey me satan #obey me x reader #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me levi #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me belphie #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me mc

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mossmurdock · 8 months

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thinking about nanami in casual clothes very heavily right now. a sweater and sweats that hang off him cause they're actually one size too large. you had overshot in the sizing when you bought them for him, but now it doesn't feel so much like a mistake, they suit him too well.

at first, he doesn't seem to catch on to why you become so attached to him when he's dressed more comfortably. doesn't see any sort of attraction in his hair being so tousled, the appeal of him stretching while in a loose shirt, or the charm of him still blinking sleep away as he brushes his teeth. you assure him that you still love him put together, but there's just something about him letting loose around you that makes you happy.

he lets you undress him when he gets home sometimes, a routine you eased him into slowly. when you first moved in it pained you to still see him in his suit or tie despite him having been home for some time. when things were worse, you would find him in the living room the next morning splayed on the couch and with hardly any time to take off his shoes.

your plan started slow, catching him at the door and loosening his tie as soon as you greeted him, trapping him at the entrance with conversation and enough affection to have him slightly spinning. it would at least get his coat off. other articles were slightly more difficult, but not impossible. his dress shirt often comes next, when he grows tired of your fleeting affection and finally catches you in a deeper kiss; your hands wander casually, leaving the nape of his neck and planting themselves on his hips. he lets you untuck his shirt with ease, too immersed in making sure you knew and felt how much he missed you.

when the two of you break away, he always looks much softer than when he walked in.

"let's take this off?" you offer, tugging at the hem of his shirt and guiding him toward the room. "i want you to be comfortable."

and he'll gruff and mutter and act releuctant, but follow nonetheless. he can't find himself denying anything when around you. "i'm well aware," he'll reply through a chuckle.

he chooses your favourites without being asked, sometimes will even pick based on what you're already wearing so that the two of you match. he knows it makes you happy, your smile wide when he comes to join you on the couch. the two of you might read separately or while the other watches something on the television. it didn't matter, as long as the both of you are tangled together and you can feel the sigh of relief that escapes his chest when he feels the weight of your head rest on his shoulder.

#BLARGH *barfs this out and presents it to yall like a cat at the door with a mouse in its mouth*#im sick and wish i could be hugged back to health :') so heres something very short and about my fav overworked shawty #ch: nanami kento #moss writes #jjk x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader

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dinadearine · 4 months

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Feral| Mizu x FEM!Bellydancer!reader

•••MINORS DNI•••

warnings/notes: Smut, Sex, Smut, Fingering, Degration, Tribbing, Hair pulling, Cunnilingus (both receiving), thigh ride (r! receiving), swear words, Public(?) sex, AFAB!reader, Edging/overstimulation, Mizu temporarily being referred to as a 'He/Him'

idk if this should be a warning: Strangers to Lovers

a/n: First time holy shit— Insert song: BALLAKEO by peso pluma, annita

btw some fluffy ending (if you squint)

The night was cheerful, especially for the crowd that surrounds you, the music on loop, performing freestyle solos, swaying and moving your body like a snake.

Mizu was pretty much too focused on her journey, and was just passing by, resisting the urge to peek, but curiousity got the better of her, she did stopped in her tracks to atleast find out the commotion.

Squeezing through the loud crowd, she managed to breathe in fresh air rather than cigar nor alcohol, the stench finally wears off as she looks ahead, seeing you, a goddess.

It strucked her of how beautiful and enticing you look, her eyes mostly wandered off your half exposed body, laced with very thin flowy fabric, and small adorned coin-like golds on the hem of the clothes, she cursed under her breath, feeling— rather heavier than usual as soon as she sets eyes upon you.

The music, your movements, your hips, each sway and roll, she feels herself drawn by not only from your movement, but your skills, her mind drifted off somewhere sinful as she continues to stare, internally moaning out words that describes you, beautiful, sexy, hot, slut.

The clothes may show off the cultural beauty about belly dancing, she knows that, but to her prespective, you look like an absolute type for her, a perfect woman, she can imagine the thing she'd do for you, to you.

Her calloused hands, roaming over your body, every curves and dips, kissing your flaws, the sight of your rolling hips drifted to an imagination of her fingers under your— Focus.

Mizu was not the one to indulge with desires, yes, but for you, she couldn't help but watch closely. You smile and wink on the crowd, the crowd cheers and blew whistles, Mizu was unbothered by the crowd's squirming movements, she was only bothered by you, getting all hot and steamy.

You end with a seductive smooth move of slow deliberate roll of hips, with hands in the air, you bucked side to side synchronized with the music before you bowed, adding up the charm.

Your eyes glided upon the cheerful crowds, until you locked eyes with a rather peculiar stranger.

With a smirk, you winked at them, gestures of 'come hither' to lure the stranger in the back of the stage. You walked with confidence, smirk on your face. You knew that the stranger will come.

|×|•⋆ ⟡ ࣪ ˖ 💞 𓈒 ˚｡⋆•|×|

You entered the dressing room, purposely not locking the door, you unshamefully slide off from your clothes, leaving you naked as you walk up to the closet. Humming to yourself as you find casual clothes, the door creeks open, a small smirk tugged in your lips, you never flinched, never startled, you turned your head to the side to peer at the stranger behind you.

Mizu, breathing unevenly, closed and locked the door securely, he walks up to your naked form. His calloused hands raised to take off his hat and cloak, revealing a Japanese male attire, it slips into your assumptions that the stranger you invited is a male, of course, you grew aroused.

You turned to face the 'man' with a small smirk, unashamed of revealing your body, the man's breath hitched as they drank the sight of your naked form. You walk up to him, hands raising instinctively over his chest.

"You come to indulge?" The man remains unmoving, but he answered, His voice rather feminine, low and controlled, he answered. "what do you think?" his hand slowly raised up, cupping unshamefully on your breast.

You leaned in, letting the man touch you, he remains still, as if he allowed you to touch him aswell, with no words uttered, lips came crashing like swords clashing, Items, table, chair, a mattres, fell and shook away from the path you two stumbled to while kissing, body grinding together, you let out small moans, his hand on your breast slowly squeezed and slides down to your most needed spot.

Brows furrowed, the man took off his glasses revealing sapphire eyes, glowing like the moon. His lips slowly kisses it's way to your jaw, neck, leaning down more to suck on one of your hardened nipples on his lip, you suck in a breath, a choke moan escaped your lips, your hips rolling on his fingers.

Your hands, found it's was to his groin, and to your surprise, it was soft, you were both aroused yet confused, how can a man resist such desires? a rumble of chuckle escaped his lips, providing vibrations on you nipple, you whined, back arching as his fingers quickened the pace.

Climax starts to build up before his fingers stopped abruptly, you pant, disappointed of being denied, the man took off his haori, revealing a binded chest, your brows shot up as he took off the dressing, revealing a pare of breasts, you were dumbfounded.

A woman?

You slowly slide your hand from her groin to her breast, giving it a light experimental squeeze, you look up, seeing the 'woman' smirking before you, you shivered, not from disgust, but from the intense arousal that flows in your veins down to your quivering pussy.

This is better.

Snaking your hands around her waist, you pulled the tall woman close for a kiss, your other hand slides down to tug the hakama off, revealing a white loincloth, already drenched from arousal, you bit your lip as you slowly kneeled down.

Tugging down the damp cloth, revealing Mizu's dripping wet sex, you swear your pupils has blown wide, turning into heart shapes, you lazily leaned in and lap on the woman's pussy, she let out a low groan, her fingers found it's way to your scalp, grip tightening on your locks as she rolled and buck her hips against your lips, you let out a moan, you hands massaging and caressing her strong thighs.

"... You taste so good..." you moaned out in her pussy, providing vibrations, she moaned and chuckled, pulling you closer in her pussy till you couldn't breathe, you continue to lick and suck, tongue skillfully rolling around her clit, and fingers slowly slid in one digit into her, the woman grunts, bucking her hips into you, your teeth grazing on her clit.

"You fucking slut.." she growls, she pulled up, stopping you from eating her out, you whine from both disappointment, and pain as she grip on your hair, she pulled you in for a kiss, your pussy throbbing, she leads you to a nearby chair, she sat down, guiding you on her lap, she slowly lifts her thigh, she released your hair and forcefully grabbed your hips, she pushed you down on her thigh, providing pressure on your sex, she pushed and pull, letting your pussy slide on her thigh, you let out small moans, breasts poking on each other.

"oh fuuck..!" you whimpered, leaning in to kiss her. You can feel her cocky smirk on your lips, blue eyes filled with lust stares at your very soul as if she's reading your mind, you kissed your way down to suck on her nipple, Mizu groaned in response, she controls your hips in a faster pace, causing you to release her nipple with a pop to sob out a moan, eyes rolling back as you pant and gasp. "Oh.. god.. Y--Yes.. Hah..." She revels the way your respond, she grinds faster.

"You like that don't you? huh?" she rasps out, she grabs a fistful of your hair once more to tilt your head up, she leaned in and kissed your neck, leaving hickeys that might last tomorrow, She then bites down on your shoulder, causing you to whine in both pleasure and pain. "You fucking like that? fucking brat."

"Yes..! a-ahh..~.. I like it.. I Love it..!" You sobbed out. Her blue eyes darkens like a seastorm, she grinds your hips faster, feeling a familiar knot tying up in your core, your moans and pants shifts into short gasps and high pitched pleas.

"I'm close.. I'm so close—" Your words were cut off with the tie breaking, releasing your climax, your body trembling and twitching, letting out high pitched moan and whimpers. The woman watched with a lusty chuckle, she slows down the pace, prolonging your orgasm, your creamy slick stained her thigh, spreading your essence nice and wide like a painting using your pretty little pussy.

"Your one perfect slut just for me..." She murmurs in your ear, you shivered, pussy throbbing from her words. She then firmly grasp your hips tighter, stopping you from grinding on her thigh, You pant from the aftermath, leaning to rest your frame on hers. Thankfully she let you rest... For a moment.

Suddenly, with a swift motion, she has you pinned down on a soft mattress, calloused hand slid from your hair down to your breasts, she played with the soft mound, and sucked on your nipples, you shuddered from the contact. She slowly kissed further down, Stomach.. Abdomen.. And finally, your dripping pussy.

Your body twitched from the sensation of a small kiss on your clit, starting to suck and lick, holding your thighs apart, you gasp and cry from overstimulation.

"T-Too much.. Ah.. S-Stop..!" you sobbed, her hands gripping on the sheet as you desperately try to squirm away, but this woman, doesn't back down and kept on lapping like a starved animal, grabbing your ankles to pull you back closer.

"You're not going anywhere, your mine, and I won't stop till I'm satisfied." The woman growled with a stern expression, she pulled you closer, and leaned back down to eat your puffy cunt again, you groaned and sob, back arching as you continue to squirm, she tightens the grip on your hips to pin you in place.

The familiar knot starts to build up in your core once more, you whinced, unable to breathe you gasp for air as you 'almost' rip off the sheets, your hips bucking forward on her skilled mouth.

"Gonna cum...! C-Cumming.." you moaned out, the woman suddenly withdraws, you sob in disappointment, hips practically shaking.

The woman spoke, in her usual low and controlled tone, but laced with seduction. "don't worry, you'll cum soon enough.." she cooed, smirking.

she adjusted her position, intertwining her leg under yours, and the other on top of your hips and slowly, she pushed down, her sex meeting yours, slick starts to mix as she grinds down, she groaned.

"fuck.. You feel so fucking good.." she continues to roll her hips against yours, the knot in your core starts to build up again.

"please— please.. I'm close.. please—" you begged, sobbing as you roll your hips. She chuckles as she continues to grind. Not caring if people could hear you two from the back stage.

"go on, come for me you slut.." The woman growled, intensifying her speed, you could only choke out gasp and pleas, before you two came, loud moans and low groans mixed together, a symphony of lust— cumming on each other's sexes, both of you is clouded by white fogs as you two ride out your high.

Panting from the aftermath of your orgasm, you two laid on the wet mattress to rest, hugging each other's bodies to soothen your exhausted state, kissing and giggling at each other.

"Actually.. What's your name?" you asked, the woman smirks at you, her blue eyes meeting yours filled with not lust, but affection and admiration. She answered.

"..Mizu.. What's yours?" She asked, turning her frame to face yours, intertwining each other's hands like love-sick lovers.

you smiled back, slightly kissing her calloused knuckles.

"..Y/N."

OMG FINALLY FINISHED! if y'all ever saw bad grammar or spelling mistakes please let me know (cause it's my first time publishing smut lol)

#blue eye samurai #mizu bes #mizu x reader #mizu smut #the blue eyed samurai #wlw ns/fw #lesbian

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socialkid · 5 months

Text

Imagine…

It’s a casual Saturday afternoon in the middle of June. The sun is out with mild wind, it was the perfect weather. And when the weather is nice like this, everyone knows to watch out for you. Because around this time, you’re shopping. Shopping, shopping, shopping. You run from store to store buying everything in sight. Most of the time with your money, which makes your boyfriend mad. He likes to pay for you.

You boyfriend: Bakugou who knows you love shopping. The days when you have free time, what are you doing? Shopping. The nights where Bakugou’s pacing up and down your apartment because you won’t answer the phone then suddenly, you come bursting through the front door with a bunch of shopping bags. He knows. If anyone knows it’s him.

This morning Bakugou had gotten a call and he was reminded that he had a day off from the agency he worked at. So when he woke you up to ask what you wanted to do today, he wondered why he asked, already knowing your answer.

Now you and Bakugou were walking through the strip mall, him holding two of your bags in one hand and his other holding yours.

“Are we done yet? I wanna take you dinner and we can’t be here all day.” Bakugou asked, grunting as he readjusted your bags.

“Not even close babe,” you said with a quickness as he groaned, “Besides, it’s only two o’clock. You don’t want to just sit around till dinner do you?” You asked him.

“Yea yeah.” He said.

You looked through the windows of the stores as they went by. Preppy, pink and frilly stores, tomboy stores, casual clothing stores, toy stores, and so much more.

“Where we goin’ next huh?” Bakugou asked, looking through some of the bags he was holding. “Hmmm probably Spencer’s, then we could hit up the food court for Auntie Anne’s, and then Foreve-” you stopped in your tracks at a merch store. The window displayed, shirts and hats of merchandise by well known creators.

Bakugou looked at you as you made googly eyes at the coryxkenshien merch, worn by a mannequin. “Y/n…don’t start-” your boyfriend was interrupted by you squealing and jumping. “Just go in the damn store already.” Bakugou sighed as you rushed in. Bakugou made his way in behind you slowly after. Not even 15 seconds later and he had already lost you.

He made his way around the store looking for you, and calling your name every once in a while. He got the idea to check by the Cory section. No sign of you. He checked the sections of your favorite artists and creators, still no sign of you.

He had actually started to become a little panicky. “Y/n? Where are you?” He raised his voice. He knew you were smart, the complete opposite of vulnerable. You could help yourself if you needed to. Even without using your quirk, you can handle anyone. But still, Bakugou wanted to make sure you were safe.

Bakugou had checked almost every area of the store and he had continued to worry. Before resorting to shouting your name he saw a section under a sign that wrote “Heroes”.

As soon as he entered, your voice began to fade in, “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my goshhh!” Bakugou walked past all the merchandise: Earser Head, Red Riot, Chargebolt, and more. He finally stopped when he saw you gazing at a triple layered table, sitting under a sign labeled “Dynamite”.

There on the table was a clear representation of Katsuki himself. The black and orange shirts and pants, hoodies labeled ‘Dynamite’ in black and orange letters, and miniature sized Dynamite plushies.

Bakugou couldn’t help but grin a little bit when you turned around to face him, already wearing a baseball cap with his named labeled onto it. “Babe! Look! It’s you! Everywhere! Oh my gosh!” You said smiling from ear to ear. “I can see that y/n.” He said sarcastically, chuckling a bit, “Calm down, you can get what you want I’ll pay for it.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You picked up everything that had his name on it. Hoodies, tank tops, hats, water bottles, stuffed plushies, fake tattoos, etc. You also stashed a few items by Shoto, Red Riot, and even one or two Deku items.

You were so excited for your items. So excited you didn’t pay attention to the shocked face of the cashier ringing up all the Dynamite merchandise, as she looked at Dynamite behind you.

After that nothing else in the mall seemed interesting. At this point you were ready to go home before dinner and check out your man’s merch.

After that day, you made sure to put your items to use. You were always flaunting your boyfriend and you made sure everybody knew it.

One night your boyfriend had called you up and asked if he could sleepover at your apartment. And when he arrived he was meet with you, wearing an oversized Dynamite shirt. He couldn’t help his intentions that night. And when everything was done, you cuddled up next to your Dynamite plushie and your life sized Dynamite.

“You love me don’t you?” Bakugou asked, you could practically hear his grin.

“Yup, both of you.”

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x yn #boku no hero academia #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader

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yanderestarangel · 8 months

Text

☆𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲! 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐀𝐔 𝐱 𝐅𝐓𝐌 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫☆

TW: Porn plot, smut, sex, just sex, power play, Cage is a DILF!, FTM reader, AFAB ANATOMY, vaginal sex, oral m!receives, degradation, sex without a condom, obsession, sugar daddy! relationship, sex in a semi public place, pet names, this was the dirtiest thing i ever wrote, my grammar, not proofread.

You looking for a sugar daddy to meet new people and also get out of your routine, so you set up a date with one of the site's subscribers, he insisted on sending you a place at the most expensive restaurant in town.

You soon go to the marked table, waiting for such sugar daddy, but soon you see Johnny Cage, father of your best friend, Cassandra Cage, going towards you with a bouquet of flowers and a light smile between his lips.

You were shocked, still processing everything, but Cage just sat at the table, just smiling with Hollywood actor charm and continued to look at the menu.

"-Have you chosen what you want my pretty angel?"

Cage spoke with the usual humor, and a smug smile on his face, wearing the expensive social clothes with the glasses of his own brand, he seemed not to care about you being best friends with his daughter.

Your initial shock wears off a bit, finally you get up the courage to answer him, sighing frustrated and a little scared, you finally speak, trying to explain that it wasn't your intention, that you didn't know it was him in the profile However, Johnny Cage he just laughed, his deep chuckle echoing through the restaurant. He takes off his sunglasses, revealing his piercing, almond-shaped eyes as he stares at you.

"-Don't worry, darling, it's part of my charm to surprise people. Besides, you're here now so we might as well enjoy the night together, right?" -Cage speaks as he leans back in his chair, his muscular body filling out the expensive suit, exuding confidence and dominance.

Cage smiles as he sips his champagne, his gaze never leaving you.

"-Tell me, my pretty thing, what made you venture into the world of sugar daddies? Looking to experience the finer things in life, aren't you?" -He raises an eyebrow, his voice full of amusement. As he talks, you notice his hands, large and veiny, resting casually on the table, They seem too big and strong for his refined personality, causing emotion mixed with apprehension.

You explain your motives for being on the site as you felt Johnny advance the low, intimate caresses to your hands, spread out on the restaurant table.

"-See, I noticed you too, (Y/N), I realized how beautiful you are. And I must admit, I felt a great desire for your company... I fantasized about the way your body responds to my touch, your moans and sighs as you submit to my wishes." -Cage smugs as he leans back, a sly smile playing on his lips.

"-So, my dear boy, how about we forget the embarrassment and enjoy this night together? Allow me to show you how much pleasure I can give you." -Johnny speaks in a voice that exudes confidence and dominance, his eyes gleaming with a possessive, dark hunger.

You look a little hesitantly at Johnny, but then sigh, you nod silently in agreement, watching the older man smile as he adjusts his sunglasses, quickly asking for the restaurant bill and fixing his expensive royal blue suit, leading you outside. from the restaurant.

He opens the car door for you, his touch lingering on your shoulders a moment longer than necessary, helping you into the car, before closing the door and walking around to the driver's side. As the car starts, Cage's hand reaches for the gearshift, his fingers brushing it intentionally.

The engine comes to life, filling the car with a low rumble.

"-We're going to my private penthouse. Somewhere quiet, where we can get to know each other better." -Cage speaks with a more intimate touch while driving the car quickly, squeezing the steering wheels and making you notice even more the veiny hands with an expensive watch on the man's wrist.

The journey isn't long, but the air seems thick with tension as you approach the luxurious building, he parks the car in the underground garage, before taking you to the private elevator, the elevator descends a little, stopping at the top floor, you soon follows Cage, watching the movie star walk briskly to one of the stores for his own luxury brand "Cage's Suit" Johnny's own expensive suit shop, You get a little confused looking at Cage but he soon walks into the store with you following him.

Luxurious suits line the shelves, each exquisite in design and workmanship. He gestures grandly at the screens.

"-My sweet, I want you to have the best outfit to accompany me tonight. Consider it a small gift, a sign of my admiration for you and our commitment as Sugar baby and Sugar daddy, don't worry about Cass now, yes ? Just choose what you want, my dear. I want you to feel confident and beautiful in my presence." -Johnny speaks as he approaches you, his hand resting on your lower back, the possessive touch sending shivers down your spine.

As you look around the store, you notice that the salespeople are discreetly watching the two of you, their eyes filled with wonder and curiosity. the fame of Johnny Cage the Percege, no matter the location and he loves it like a good cocky actor with a high ego, now he had a beautiful boy by his side, you<3

Your Sugar Daddy!Johnny Cage recommends you one of the suits after a few minutes looking at the shelves, one of the most expensive in the store, while you protested a little with the high price feeling shy for him spending a small fortune on you, but Cage just smiles and pushes you lovingly in the dressing room as you quickly changed.

Cage watches you emerge from behind the curtain, dressed in the suit he recommended. His gaze intensifies as he takes in every detail, from the way the fabric molds to your curves to the way you look so effortlessly attractive.

"-Oh my dear (Y/N) you look absolutely stunning... The suit suits you perfectly, accentuating your body in all the right places, now let me prove what your pretty mouth can do yes?" -Cage spoke with a voice overflowing with praise and sexual hunger as he approaches you, his hands running over your body, sending electric shocks through your skin, while smiling like a predator playing with prey.

Johnny takes his hard cock out of his pants, while looking at you with dominance and desire, making you immediately kneel down as you watch Cage's big thick cock gleaming, the painful pink tip dripping a little lube nail, he strokes himself slowly, savoring your submission and the beautiful image of you handsome in a suit ready to suck his cock with, needy moaning, before you even touch him.

"-That's it, my sweet boy, show me how eager you are to please me... Take me in your mouth, wrap those pretty lips around my cock." As you lean forward, his hand tangles in your hair, guiding you closer to his throbbing cock.

The scent of his arousal fills the air as you absorb it, savoring the taste of it on your tongue. Cage's grip on your hair tightens slightly, a silent command for you to pick up the pace.

He guides your movements, his hips thrusting gently as he seeks pleasure deeper in your throat.

"-What a good cocksucker, (Y/N). You are making Daddy so proud. Go on, watch every inch of my dick go in, show me how well you can handle me." -Cage moans deeply, his pleasure evident as he watches you greedily devour his cock.

He revels in the feel of your warm, wet mouth around him, your desire to please him making him want to come soon, but he holds on, wanting to experience every inch of your delicious mouth.

"-Such a good little cocksucker, (Y/N), you're making Daddy so proud... Keep going, take every inch, show me how well you can handle me." As you continue to suck him, your moans and sighs mix with his, the sounds of pleasure filling the small enclosed space. The intensity increases.

"-Oh, fuck (Y/N), such a filthy, naughty boy, taking my cock so well, you were made to please me, weren't you? You're my little slut, my personal plaything... Fucking hell, your mouth feels incredible, you're such a good little slut, taking my cock like this."

"-Keep going, my pretty boy, show me how much you fucking want... I'm going to come soon, and you're going to swallow every drop, aren't you? Tell me (Y/N), tell me you he wants." -Cage speaks with a tense voice of pleasure, with a final thrust, he reaches the climax, his hot semen filling his mouth.

He moans loud and hoarse as he empties into your throat, the hot, sticky liquid running down your mouth.

You two leave the suit shop quickly, while Johnny paid for your suit with his black card and a smug smile, all the vendors looked embarrassed by the sounds you two made in the locker room, but didn't say anything, after all, the older man he owned everything there, and it wasn't good to cross his own boss.

Cage takes you into the luxurious Hollywood mansion, with a firm but gentle grip as he guides you up the stairs.

The opulence of the surroundings overwhelms your senses, showing off your extravagant taste and wealth. The mirrored walls reflect their figures, adding an element of intrigue and sensuality to the room. Inside the Presidential Suite, the marble floor feels cool under your feet as you take in the grandeur of the room.

Your eyes are drawn to the large jacuzzi tub, whose inviting bubbles promise relaxation, Cage, standing before you in his discarded clothes, radiates pure desire. His muscular physique and erect cock leave no doubt about his intentions.

“-Welcome baby” -Johnny purrs with malice evident between clenched white teeth, he moves closer, his hands grazing over your body, sending a trail of goosebumps wherever they touch.

"-But first, I want to see you, my sweet boy. Take off your clothes, let me feast my eyes on your beauty" He ordered you with dominance as he looked at you with his pulsating cock and needy, you take off your suit with tenderness and submissiveness to your best friend's father, you felt guilty deep down, but nothing mattered now, nothing but Cage and you. He looks down at your body, admiring everything slowly, devouring you like a hot and delicious meal, hovering his height over you, making him even more horny and hungry to fuck you soon.

"-You are a work of art, my dear boy. A masterpiece made to be admired and adored."

With a sudden rush of possessiveness, Cage presses you against the mirrored wall, his body pinning you in place. His lips crash against yours in a hungry, demanding kiss, his hands roaming your body with a sense of urgency, he soon pulls away from you, a thin little trickle of saliva connecting both lips as he looks you straight in the eye practically reading your soul.

"-Get ready, my darling, I'm going to fuck you so hard that you won't be able to think about anything but my dick buried in you." -Johnny Cage speaks with a voice needy but still extremely dominant, he easily lifts you in his lap and carries you towards the jacuzzi.

The heat of the water envelops their bodies as he settles in, his hands still cupping her ass firmly, delivering a firm slap that sends a sharp stab of pleasure through your body.

Even with sexual experience and prowess, Cage struggles to penetrate your tight pussy, eliciting a grunt of frustration from him, but the difficulty only intensifies his desire, his determination to possess you completely.

Taking a deep breath, he presses his hips against yours, pushing his cock slowly into your slick entrance. The grip of your pussy tightens around him, causing a mixture of pleasure and discomfort to wash over you both.

"-Damn it, (Y/N)... You're so tight. I've never felt anything like it... So I won't last much longer.." -Cage groans, smiling slightly, his voice with a hint of mixed pleasure and frustration when he finally feels fully enveloped inside you.

"-You will scream my name and everyone will know who you belong to." -He speaks as he continues to invest in you, overcoming the tremors of his release, determined to take you to the limit too, his hand moves to your clit, deftly massaging the sensitive bundle of overstimulated nerves with dexterity.

"-Come for me, my good boy, show me how much you want it, how good I make you feel" -His grip tightens on your waist as he continues to fuck you with vigor and intensity, his cock penetrating deep in its smooth, tight walls, now coated with its own release.

"-Do you feel like you belong to me? How do I control every damn move? You're mine, and I won't let you forget that..." -Johnny speaks tensely with pleasure as he smiles cocky at you, continuing the attack with his fingers and cock in your needy and wet pussy.

"-So tight, so perfect for me. I'm going to fuck you senseless, claim every inch of you." And as the pleasure washes over you, your body shudders at the climax. You let out a loud cry of ecstasy, your orgasm crashing over you with a force you've never felt before.

Cage continues to thrust into you, prolonging the pleasure, until he finds his own release once more, thick ropes of cum filling your pussy as you both moan loudly through the mirrored room, echoing off the walls.

Breathing heavily, the older man's sweat-dampened body pressed against his, Cage looks at you with one of satisfaction and obsession, giving you a chaste, lingering kiss on the forehead, while whispering praise, whispering in your ear.

"-I'm not done with you yet baby, there's much more pleasure I've planned for us, come on, ride me, show me how desperate you are for my cock." He positions himself on the edge of the jacuzzi, his throbbing cock protruding from his body. His gaze never leaves your as you approach, your pussy still full of his semen.

Without hesitation, you mount him, lowering yourself to his rigid length. A moan escapes you both as he fills you completely, the tightness and heat of your pussy enveloping him in pleasure. As you begin to move, the rhythm and intensity building with each movement, Cage's hands grip your hips firmly, guiding and controlling your rhythm. His eyes bored into yours, the intensity of his desire evident.

"-Fuck little boy...you look so sexy on top of me, Riding my dick like a good boy."

"-That's right, my little cock-hungry boy."

"-You can't resist me... can't resist the power of my cock. You were made to be fucked by me, to satisfy my every desire."

"-Show me how much you want me, how much you need my cock inside you." -Cage's grip on your hips tightens as you ride him with increasing fervor, each thrust pushing you further into an inferno of pleasure.

He groans at the feel of your tight pussy squeezing his thick cock, the knowledge that he's fucking you without a condom bringing him to the brink of ecstasy.

"-You take me so well, my sweet little bitch. Your pussy feels so good around my cock, so tight and wet, you were made for me."

"-Do you want more? Do you want me to fuck you like the dirty little bitch you are? It's okay babyboy... Daddy will give you exactly what you need."-Cage says while watching you with hungry eyes as you jump on top of him riding with need on his cock, his hands grip your waist tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh possessively as he quickens his pace, the visual heightening his desire even more as his see your reflection in the mirrors of the private room, he delights in the way you squeeze your pussy tighter around him, enjoying every inch of his thick cock as your pussy smeared his crotch and ripped abdomen.

The intensity of his thrusts builds one last time, and with a guttural roar, your body tenses as he releases a wave of hot cum inside you, claiming you completely.

The feel of him emptying into your tight, pulsing walls pushes you over the edge once more, and your own orgasm rips through you in a powerful release, Cage kisses you passionately, trembling with weariness and desire as he praises you again, but there's something darker there, something that hadn't yet come to the surface, he had managed to get you after years of waiting, after all... Johnny Cage always wins.

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writingsbychlo · 9 months

Text

SWEET LIKE SUGAR | 03

summary; your first introductions don't go as planned, putting a dampener on some otherwise good news.

word count; 12,179

notes; y'all's patience for this has been incredible, it really has been a criminal amount of time since the last update. hopefully the next one comes sooner lol but enjoy!!

The many shopping bags dangling from your arms rustled as you hurried up the front steps of the new house you called home. Over a week had passed, a full week of your new life that was still taking some effort to get used to, and yet, things finally seemed to be looking up.

Clutched in your hands, the most prized of every new acquisition you’d made today. No matter how many paper bags filled with new clothes and decor hung from your tired arms, the small bakery box with four cupcakes inside was by far the best. This time next week, you’d be serving the cupcakes.

A real job, earning your own money, to pay your own way.

It was almost shocking, just how quickly your life had changed, how right Azriel had been about it. Doors that would have been shut to you as soon as you registered the house to be billed to, the district you’d lived in, were all open now. Sneers and stares had been swapped for smiles and polite greetings, and although you hated that prejudice had existed at all, Azriel was right.

You couldn't wait to tell him so.

Clearing the final few steps and teetering up the porch, the door swung open free of latch or key when you twisted the doorknob. Azriel was home, then.

You had hardly kicked off your shoes beside the door in your excitement, toeing it shut, when the voices from the living room finally met your ears. Your head was still spinning, nothing in you telling you to halt, or to consider just who the people Azriel might be meeting with were, before you were spinning around that corner, smile on your face, and coming face to face with the High Lord and the Commander of the Court’s armies.

Their gazes moved to you, Azriel’s back to you but he finally turned to look over his shoulder, the room falling silent as all attention moved to you, and your throat bobbed at the weight of it. Cassian shuffled on the couch, and Rhysand only adjusted the angle he was perched at on the arm, to look further around Azriel at you. His stare was piercing, assessing, and you found yourself shrinking under it a little, clearing your throat and dragging your gaze to your housemate.

“I’m so sorry for interrupting. I’ll come back later, Az. I’ll just head upstairs.” Your palms were sweating, but it didn’t feel right to just ignore the other people in the room, not when their presences alone were so powerful they practically filled it. Setting down one arm’s worth of shopping bags and the boxes of pastries carefully, you padded to the centre of the room, holding your hand out halfway between them. “High Lord, General. My apologies, again. It has been an honour to meet you both, though.”

Neither moved, both just stared, your arm trembling for just a second as the moment dragged on, and neither moved to shake your hand. After too many silent seconds, heat rose to your cheeks, and you pulled your hand back, stepping backwards a couple of steps. Perhaps it had been too informal, perhaps you’d offended them in some way, but when Rhysand gave a huff that sounded displeased, you were sure it wasn’t just you sensing the tension anymore.

“An honour, I’m sure.” The High Lord muttered, your eyes widening a little, gaze shooting to Azriel as he stepped up to your side, slipping the other bags from your hands as that one began to shake too, and setting them down with the rest.

“Rhysand!” Azriel snapped, a tone in his voice that you’d never heard before, and the shock of it only sent another bout of anxiousness coursing through you. “Be polite.”

His brother only shrugged casually, like he’d been asked the weather forecast, and picked at one of his cuticles, bored. “I am being polite. As polite as I can be, anyway.”

It was a lie, thick and heavy as that penetrating violet stare found you again. You’d heard the rumours, about how charming the High Lord of Night could be, and this certainly was not him. You tried another smile anyway, and shied your gaze away from the Lord to the General. He didn’t return it, only crossing his impressive arms over a powerful chest, his size a terrifying display, only made worse by his own glare.

Clammy sweat began to bead along your back, and you shuffled a little closer to Azriel’s side. His arm pressed to your own, the back of his palm brushing yours as it hung at his side, and it was enough comfort to at least take one deep lungful of air, before your ruler spoke again; “What is it that you want?”

“Huh?” It was impolite, and informal, but you were confused, the sound tumbling from you faster than you could stop it, and you only winced at the slight tensing of the man who’d asked it. His companion only snarled at your accidental impertinence.

“Cass…” Azriel growled back, low and under his breath, his fingers threading gently through your own. You clung to him, so tight you were sure you’d cut off blood flow, your knuckles likely white, but you needed him to anchor you right now.

“What, Azriel?” The tension was so thick it was stifling, you could hardly breathe. Your muscles were wound tight to stop your whole body from shaking, a nervous response, and yet somehow, you still felt like you were going to shatter at any moment. “You got yourself a fucking sugar baby! Excuse me for being concerned about what she actually wants from you!”

“She is not a sugar baby!” Your head spun, your body swaying a little, and you could’ve cried merely at Azriel’s defence of you. You could cry right now, anyway. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, every word forming too slowly in your head to stand up for yourself, to even understand what was going on. Thinking alone merely felt like wading through treacle, right now.

“So, you didn’t give her the money for whatever is in those shopping bags, then?” Rhysand waved a lazy hand at your purchases, your face flushing once again, and Cassian raised a brow in a challenge, both standing united against Azriel in their questioning. Against you.

Yes, technically, you supposed Azriel did pay, but—

“That’s what I thought.” Rhysand sneered, cutting off your line of thought, and Azriel growled once again, a deeper sound, a more predatory warning. “Stay the fuck out of her head, Rhys.”

“My head?” Your squeak was embarrassing but you were too overwhelmed to care. Rhysand only scoffed, brushing invisible lint from his shoulder while Cassian rolled his eyes. Your stomach was rolling over, and you felt like the very air was being squeezed from your lungs, emotions clogging and stinging at your throat. Under their watchful eye, you’d never felt so small, so insecure, so powerless.

“Picture a wall building around your mind.” Azriel’s voice had softened, his breath brushing over your hairline, and you wanted to turn to him, to sink into his honeyed gaze where you knew you’d find a friend, in hopes it would calm the visible full body shakes now, bring you back into your own skin. But, you couldn't look away, feeling like you were stuck on the High Lord, unable to even move. “Picture it. Don’t focus on anything else, brick by brick, build that wall. Keep building it, thicker and thicker. Work on it until they leave, I’ll explain later.”

A jerky nod was the best you could manage, and Azriel left a kiss on your temple on confirmation as you mentally laid down the first few bricks.

“This is none of your business.” His voice hardened again, and you lost focus, cursing yourself mentally as you lost it all, the wall crumbling to dust in your mind’s eye. You could feel it, then. Feel that presence, the one that made you feel like you were being pushed out of your one body, the cramped feeling.

He was there, embarrassment flooding you at how flawlessly he witnessed your internal struggle. He didn’t even try to prove at your thoughts again, just watching you struggle from inside your own mind, like it was nothing to him at all.

Grasping Azriel’s hand with your other, clutching it in both now, he flexed his fingers reassuringly to you, and you tried again to do as you’d been told. One full wall, and when Rhysand finally looked away from you, you were able to snap your mind to the carpet, staring at the floor by your bare feet instead.

“It certainly is my business. If she’s manipulating you, we’re all at risk!”

Your flinch at his shout was unstoppable. You were so wary of his powers, so frightened of Cassian sitting on the couch—

“She should be wary of my abilities, she should be terrified of Cassian!” His gaze turned back to you when you looked in horror, and you could feel the faint trickles of his horrid amusement as you realised once again you’d lost focus, lost that wall. You blinked back tears, unwilling to sink that low before them, to fall any further in their eyes.

In your peripherals, Cassian’s arms uncrossed and he shuffled, but you were locked once again, having made the mistake to look at Rhysand again, and being unable to move away. Shadows twisted at your legs, your arms, your joined hands, drifting off of him in cool and calming waves, binding you to him, comforting you silently. You moved your attention back to that wall once again.

“Whatever she did to you, Az, tell us! Whatever she’s holding over you, we can get you out of it, we can help you!” The warlord only grunted his agreement, shattering your focus with a single sound. And so, you started again.

Silence. Silence dragged on longer this time, longer than any moment before.

Azriel’s wings ruffled as he pulled them in closer, his hand tightened around your own. “It was my idea.”

“What?” They both spoke at once, incredulous and unbelieving. But you dragged in a shaky breath at the shift of power in the room, just for a split second, as he cough them off guard with his declaration.

“It was my idea,” Azriel said again, with that lethal, icy calm. Azriel tucked you a little closer to him, a little behind his body, shielding you from them with a wing. “It was my idea to walk her home that night, it was my idea to bring her back here. It was me who convinced her to stay after she found out who I was. It was me who took her into my bed. It was me who made the offer.”

Silence, again. You’d once loved silence, now, you hated the way it felt like it was crawling across your skin, burrowing into the cracks and seeping through pores.

“It was all me.”

That statement settled over the room, only seeming to heighten everything, until you were sure the sound of your heart pounding was drawing out everything else, even the bustle from the streets outside. Finally, Rhysand snarled a sound of utter disgust.

“This is ridiculous, Azriel! Can’t you see that?” Azriel did not deign to reply, and when the room became stagnant, the air almost unbreathable, it seemed the conversation had come to an end. Standing and sliding his hands into his pockets, Rhysand took a few steps closer to you both. Azriel tucked you further behind his back as Cassian followed. “Fine. Do as you please, Azriel. Let’s see how the rest of the family reacts at dinner on Saturday.”

With little else, Rhysand stalked past, not even bothering a sigh in your direction. Meaningless, inconsequential, nothing. That’s what you were to him. Cassian lingered, and you dared not to look up this time, before hearing him follow only a second later, the front door slamming shut behind him. Two sets of wings took off into the air a second later, and as they went, the heaviness in the room seemed to be sucked right out with them.

When the beating of wings finally faded, Azriel dropped your hand, spinning to you. Your face was cupped in two warm hands, guided up to meet his panicked gaze, and you still felt a little numb, shaking yourself out all the way down to your fingers, as if to regain control of your body.

“I’m so sorry. Fuck, that was awful. I didn’t want you to come back to that, that’s not what I wanted to happen at all. I’m so sorry about them. Are you okay?” Azriel’s rambling came with a tremble to his own hands, and he leaned down, brushing a delicate kiss across both of your heat-stained cheeks. Sliding your hands up to cover his on your face, you finally nodded.

“Your friends don’t seem to like me very much.” You finally choked out, voice raw like you’d been singing at the top of your lungs for hours, or screaming over a crowd, and Azriel gave an equally raspy laugh. His only response was sliding his hands to your waist, and tugging you into his chest, a tight embrace.

“I don’t know why.”

“It’s okay.” You sighed, burying your face into his chest, feeling the siphon under his clothes pull with a power. “It makes sense. They think I’m using you.”

“They didn’t even let me explain! They just assume I was weak enough to let a beautiful woman manipulate me. It makes me feel like they don’t trust me, at all.” Your heart fluttered at his words, even if they were spoken with rage and anger, they still held sweetness for you, and you squeezed him once more, before stepping back from his arms, just a little.

He was all but shaking with rage, and you rolled onto your tiptoes, leaving a kiss to match the ones he’d given you upon his cheek, and he tried his best to give a small smile. It looked more like a grimace, but you appreciated it nonetheless. “Let me show you what I bought today, would that cheer you up?”

“Yes.” He mumbled, but finally came a genuine smile from him, even if it was tiny, it was something.

Scooping up the bags for you, you were left only with the small bakery box, waving it lightly in your hands as he carried your begs further into the room and placing them beside the coffee table. “This is a little treat for us later, I hope you have a sweet tooth,”

Azriel shrugged, lips pressed shut, and you were sure a soft pink was forming on his cheekbones. “I like sweet things.”

Your eyes narrowed on him a little, closing the space between you both until you were pinching his cheek, his blush deepening as he scowled, pushing your hand away when you giggled. “Oh, so tough. Big bad spymaster, I bet you love desserts and pastries and sugar.”

“I like it a normal amount.” He deflected, catching your other hand by the wrist when you lifted it to his other cheek, and pinning them both at your sides. The scowl melted into a smile, despite how hard he tried, and your grin only stretched wider. “Oh, shut up. You should be grateful, if I didn’t like sweet things so much, you wouldn't be here!”

It was your turn to blush, your jaw dropping a little as heat crawled over your face. He raised both hands, pinching your cheek and shaking your face side to side. When you slapped his hands away, he only laughed.

“Not so fun, is it?”

“Shut it, shadowsinger.”

His grin only got wider, and he reached for a bag, swiping up whichever his fingers found first and holding it out to you. Taking it from him after putting down the pastry box, you opened up the paper bag, peering inside at whatever you’d purchased. Fishing out the first item, you presented it to him, his brows crawling up.

“Table mats!”

“Table mats?” He repeated, taking the bundle from you and tugging lightly at the twine string holding them shut. The set of eight opened up after the strings came loose, and he examined each one. A lightwood mat, with the mountain range of the Night Court carved into the surface of each one, clean and beautiful polished wood under his fingertips. “I like them.”

“Yeah?”

You could only smile, pulling out the next item, one that matched. “Good, because I also got matching coasters!” On each coaster, one mountain sat with the three stars carved over the top, the crest of their Court, and he rubbed his thumb across it. “They’re perfect.”

“I also bought some mugs!”

“I have mugs.” You only scoffed, beginning to root through the bags on the floor beside the table until one clinked, the cups and saucers inside.

“You have… very simplistic mugs.” His arms crossed over his chest.

“Because they’re plain white and aren’t weirdly shaped?” Producing the mugs and saucers, his lips pressed together to conceal a laugh. “What are those?”

“Mugs and saucers!”

“Saucers are supposed to be around, not square! And why are the mugs striped?” He took one from your hands, inspecting it closely. “A mug is a functional item, why does it have a quote painted on the front?”

He turned it around, forcing you to look at the words across the front, the exact reason you’d chosen it, and your answering beam seemed to answer his question.

“‘I’m not arguing, I’m just explaining why I’m right’. Really?”

“Now look at mine!” You handed it over to him, yours with blue polka-dots instead of stripes, and he gagged loudly as he read the words.

“‘Follow your dreams, they know the way’? That’s awful.” He threw it, the mug bouncing across the couch cushions, and you caught it just before it could fall to the floor, loud bursts of laughter spilling from your lips as he shook his head. “You can’t live here anymore. You have to get out. Right now. And take your terrible mugs with you.”

“But there’s more!”

“More?” He groaned, loudly, head tipping back, and when you leaned in to jab at his shoulder, he grabbed your arm, tugging you closer. Your squeal was lost to laughter as he pinched at your side instead, stealing your intended attack and making you squirm, checking him with your hip as he did it again, an inch higher. “How many more will you inflict upon my poor cupboards?”

“I got four in total!” His assault stopped after the third pinch, your back to his chest as his arm banded around your body, holding you there until the giggles faded. “I promise, I have other stuff, stuff you’ll like.”

“How can I possibly trust your taste, now?”

“I’m here with you, aren’t I? I must have reasonably decent taste, at least.” The pinching started again, until you squirmed away to the floor, gasping for breath and kicking at his ankles as you swiped for the next bag. “You’re a menace!”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just see the next bag.”

Despite his insults of your mugs and plates, you couldn't bring yourself to care, because that tension had slipped out of his shoulders once again, and he was smiling. Smiling like he’d never known a trouble in the world, smiling like nothing had gone wrong today. As he sank to kneel before you on the floor, you fetched the next bag, setting it between your bodies.

And so, the next several hours followed, the world melting away as you went through each purchase, showing Azriel everything from new candles that smelled like pumpkins and spices, to a throw blanket for the bed, to a new set of notebooks and pens.

Your new clothes had been folded and set in piles, and you left Azriel to wash and put away your ‘interesting’ kitchenware as you carried your new clothes up to your drawers. You’d never owned so much in the way of lovely clothes, the fabric and weaving market of Velaris were like nothing you’d ever seen before.

When you reemerged, Azriel was standing in the living room, hands on his hips and staring at the floor. His brows were furrowed a little bit, all the empty bags had been picked up and were now sitting in a stack in his armchair, the considerable number threatening to topple over. He looked a little overwhelmed, rubbing a hand across his jaw, and your lip caught between your teeth as you stepped into the doorway.

“Is it too much?”

“What?” His hand returned to his hip from his jaw, as his gaze moved to you.

Waving a hand idly around in a motion of the house, you gave a small smile. “Everything I bought, is it too much?”

His eyes widened slightly, before he was making his way across the room, shaking his head. He stared for a second, frozen in motion but you could see the thoughts flicking through his eyes, before finally, he gave a heavy sigh; “I’ve never had matching mugs with someone before. My chest is tight.”

Your thoughts halted for a moment, a vulnerable look on his face as you studied him, his fingers twitching by his sides anxiously as he held your stare. Rubbing a hand over his chest for something to do, you took his hand in both of your own, rubbing your thumbs across the back of his palm. “That’s so cute, Az.”

“It’s cute?” His cheeks were growing redder by the second, and you squeezed his hand, “It’s pathetic.”

“It’s not pathetic! I’ve never had matching mugs with someone either.” He only rolled his eyes, but his fingers finally curled around your own.

“It’s not just the mugs. The mugs are a metaphor.” That furrow was back between his brows, the blush spreading down his jaw, and you rubbed that crease softly with one finger.

“I know. I’ve never had the metaphor, either.”

Silence fell between you both, and Azriel’s blush finally went down, until he no longer wore that expression, but was relaxed once again. His hand tightened around yours, tugging you forward, through the living room. “I laid out the rug.”

“The rug?” Your gaze fell to where he’d been standing, the new woven rug made from the softest materials you’d ever encountered was now laid out beneath the coffee table, centred perfectly before the chairs and the couch. “My rug. That was for my room.”

“What?”

“The rug, you don’t have to put it down here. I don’t want to change your whole house, Az. I just bought a coupla’ things, things I thought would make you chuckle, like the cheesy mugs.”

“But it looks so good here.” With another step, he was on the rug bare feet digging into the threads, and tugging you forward, too. Toeing off your shoes, you copied, toes digging into the soft rug, copying the little steps he was making in the plush material. “I want you to put your little touches all over this place if it makes you happy.”

Something inside of you turned to mush at that, and you looked down, seeing only the motions you both made as you shuffled across the rug, gentle laughter filling the space as you admired it. The day may not have been the best, but Azriel seemed at last a little more cheered. That lingering sadness underneath seemed to last, though.

“Wanna’ go make dinner? We can have anything you want.”

He stepped away, leaving you to follow him as he made his way to the kitchen, and you almost had to jog to keep up with his long strides. “Hm, how about a cheese toastie?”

“A cheese toastie? C’mon, at least give me a little bit of a challenge!” Despite his protests, Azriel was before the fridge, pulling out a thick loaf of bread and several kinds of cheese, beginning to stack ingredients along the counter.

“Fine, how about a cheese toastie and some soup?” He glanced at you over his shoulder, face a blank portrait and somehow still conveying subtle judgement, tutting under his breath. “Hey! I’ll have you know that making a good soup is challenging!”

“I’ll have you know, that I’m excellent at cooking, and I’m about to make you the best soup you’ve ever had.”

“Big claims,” You smirked, hopping up onto the counter and swinging your legs, watching as he retrieved a large pot from the cupboards, adding some water and setting it to boil on the stove. “You sure you can handle it?”

“You just watch me handle it.”

Your tongue stuck out, his matching it, and laughter filled the kitchen as he set to work. As Azriel chopped, sliced and peeled the vegetables, adding seasoning and spices, you set to work on slicing the bread and cheeses. When it was done, he retrieved them from you, stacking the bread and fillings up, and finding a pan to start grilling.

“Make yourself useful and go lay the table.”

“Make myself useful?” A single swat to the arm, and Azriel was grinning to himself as he stirred the soup. “You are the one who keeps telling me that you’re the chef, I would be helping if you’d let me!”

“And now I’m letting you. Letting you set the table. You’re welcome.”

“You’re welcome, yeah, whatever.” You mocked, tugging open the cutlery drawer, gathering cutlery and plates, laying them out on the table. Glasses of water followed, and then you were back, peering over Azriel’s shoulder as he flipped over the two toasties, melted cheese dripping from the edges and making your mouth water. “Smells good.”

“Hm.” He grabbed for another spoon, scooping some out of the bubbling soup, and turning. Holding it up to your lips, all teasing was gone, and you parted your lips, letting him push the spoon between them slowly. Pulling it back, he waited as you swallowed, considering the flavour. “Good?”

“Really good.”

“Yeah?” Pink touched his cheeks at your confirmation, and his private smile was hidden as he turned his back to you, back to the food. “I’m glad. Go sit down, it’s almost ready.”

You did as told, propping your hand on your fist as you sat in your seat, watching him move around the kitchen, plating up your dinner. When it was ready, he sat across the table from you, eagerly waiting on his food as he waited for you to try it once again.

Reaching one hand out across the table, palm facing up, you offered your hand to him, in the space between you both. Hesitating for only a second, Azriel slid his rough and calloused fingers over your own, holding on gently when you curled your hand around his. He stared, rubbing his thumb slowly over your knuckles as he turned your hands atop the surface, and shook his head softly to himself.

“Eat up, Az. You’ve had a stressful day.”

He only laughed, a cheeky glint in his eye as he peered up at you through his lashes, shoulders softening further.

No matter how far they softened, tension easing out, it was never gone entirely. Not as you sat and ate dinner together, not as you shared the pastries you had for dessert, cutting each treat in half and sharing every thought. Lingering underneath it all, in the way his smile never fully extended, or his shimmer dimmed a little too fast, you could tell the weight of the day was still dragging him down.

He’d insisted on cleaning up, and so you’d stood side by side, him washing and you drying, the quiet eating at the space in between you both until it was too much. So, you’d filled the space by talking, and Azriel had listened to every senseless whim and joke you’d had to say, walking beside you to your bedroom door, before bidding you a quiet goodnight, and disappearing into his own.

Only one shadow had lingered, brushing across your cheek before trailing in tendrils with the others, which were wrapped tightly around his body. Like a protective shield, or a safety blanket. As you changed for bed, every movement felt heavy, the air was heavy with the lingering emotions of the day, and you could almost taste his guilt and self-loathing in the air.

You’d all but paced a hole in your floor as you wandered up and down thinking about it.

It didn’t feel right to leave him, but you weren’t sure of where those boundaries lay, what your limits were. If Azriel wanted company, he could’ve asked, but he didn’t exactly seem like the sort to reach out. He was the quiet, brood-in-solitude type. You had no idea what to do to help.

You were still considering it as you silently approached his bedroom door. There was a light still on, flickering dimly as the flame danced, just enough of a soft glow to perhaps be a single candle.

Before you could back out and turn around, a single shadow snaked under the threshold, curling around your ankle, swarming quietly and securely, like a message. Before you could second-guess again, your knuckles wrapped twice against the door, the shadow darting back underneath.

A gruff noise of acknowledgement from inside welcomed you, and you stepped into the room. Feet near-silent against the carpet, the shadows were back, a wisp of cool touch around your bare calves, brushing all the way up, and stopping respectfully at the hem of your nightgown.

Instead of venturing further, they shifted to your arms, following your every motion as you closed the door and began padding across the room toward him, feeling the twist and dance of them up your arms.

As you reached the edge of the bed, he lowered his book, a single jerk of his chin bringing his shadows darting back to him, smoothing into the creases of the bed and the shadows on the floor, all but disappearing sneakily once again. Sitting up further, he patted the space beside him, and you crawled up across the bed to kneel by his side.

He waited patiently as you settled, your heart racing in your chest as he welcomed your company. Your comfort. You hadn't thought it through this far, what to even say to him, but only one thing came to mind;

“I got a job today,”

His eyes widened almost comically, brows shooting up his forehead, and his jaw dropped. For a heartbeat, two, he was speechless. “You got a job?”

“The desserts we had? They came from The Star Crossed Bun Bakery, and you’re lookin’ at their new waitress!” He let out a cheer, arms reaching out to drag you over his legs and into a hug, your ass planted across his thighs as his arms wrapped around your body, squeezing you to his chest. Your head shook, giggling uncontrollably as he whooped. “Well, it’s no ‘spymaster of the Night Court’, but—”

“Do you like it?” He cuts you off cleanly, no longer smiling, a serious look on his face. “Do you think it’ll make you happy?”

“I do. I think it’s perfect.”

“Then who cares what it is? It’s the best job ever, if it’ll truly bring you joy.” The sincerity in his voice made you believe him, the honesty in his eyes only confirmed it, and you couldn't tear your sights away from his own because of it. Captive, you were locked in his gaze, the wide beam on your lips dimming to something more gentle, and his arms tightened around your waist some more as you looped one of your own around his neck for support.

“I’ll be able to pay you back for everything pretty soon.” Threading your fingers a little higher, into the hairs along the back of his head a rumbling sound beat through his chest at the scratch of your nails on his scalp.

“I told you, I don’t want you to pay me back. That money I gave you was a gift, and you used half of it to buy things for me anyway, so it barely even counts.”

“If I don’t pay you back,” You shuffled, sliding a little further down in his lap as he crooked his legs up behind you. “Then your brothers are right, I’m your sugar baby.”

His smile dimmed a little as you looked up at him, but it didn’t leave completely, and after a couple of moments of quiet, he shrugged. “Then you’re my sugar baby. I don’t care what they think.”

“I care!” Your hand slapped loosely at his arm, and he only rubbed a hand down your spine, his face impassive at your protest. Your eyes rolled fondly, cheek going to rest on his shoulder as he continued to rub your back slowly. Shuffling the blankets down around himself, he pulled them free from his lap and up and over yours instead, his hand going to rest over your covered thigh once he was done.

“Wanna stay and cuddle for a while, sugar?”

“Oh, gods…” The nickname is an awful play on current events, but it makes him smile once again, and so you stretch your legs out and slump a little further across him as he relaxes back into the pillows, taking you with him.

Smoothing your hands across the front of your dress, you gave a final nod to the mirror, unwilling to let yourself overthink it any further. The four other outfits discarded on your bed were proof enough of that. Swiping up a pair of simple black heels, a matching purse and a lipstick you’d yet to wear, you let the bedroom door click shut behind you as you left.

Downstairs, you were finally learning the ways to navigate this house, you found Azriel sitting in his favourite armchair, a loose t-shirt and sweatpants. A mug of cooling tea sat on the coffee table as his legs stretched out to reach his feet to the new rug, book in hand. Placing down the purse and the lipstick at the table by the front door, you slipped one heel on, then the other, as you walked towards him.

“When are we leaving? You’re not dressed yet.”

His head lifted, eyes focusing intently on your outfit as he took you in, a long and sweeping gaze from head to foot. A simple black sundress, nothing special about it, but as Azriel scanned right from the hem at your ankles to the liner behind your lashes, you felt special.

Holding out his hand, you took it, and he twirled you simply before him, a smile pulling on your lips as you moved in a circle before his seat.

“Leaving for what?” He eventually said, dropping your fingers after running his thumb across your knuckles. “Why are you dressed up?”

“Family dinner!” His eyes narrowed. “It’s tonight!” His smile fell, lips pursing in a scowl, and he shook his head.

“We’re not going to that.”

“But it’s your family!”

“Yeah, and they were assholes. Besides, you didn’t sign up to deal with their shit.” His focus moved back to his book, and you took it from his hands, ignoring the sound of protest he gave off, sliding the bookmark between the pages, and putting it out of his reach.

“I kinda’ did sign up for it. Wasn’t that one of the main points of our… agreement?” Leaning your thigh on the edge of his chair, he was forced to look up and meet your gaze. “To go to events with you, so you’re not alone.”

His frown only deepened. The sight of it made you want to rage, hating that expression on his face, and you sunk onto the chair, threading a hand into his hair like you’d done a day prior, playing lightly.

“Besides, I’m going to have to meet them all eventually, Az. If they’re all going to hate me, might as well get it done in one sitting, huh?”

He only groaned, leaning forward to brace his forehead against your thigh, grumbling at your chuckle as your hand followed, back to his hair. Running one scarred hand over the material adorning your calves, he huffed out a warm breath against your leg. “You look so beautiful in your new dress.”

“Thank you.” Your heart fluttered a little at the pure tone of his voice.

“Are you sure you want to go?”

“I didn’t get all dressed up for nothin’. C’mon, have a little faith in me. I can handle it.” Another pass of your fingers through his hair, and he twisted his head, to rest his cheek in its place. “I’ve been practising my mental wall-building skills, I have to test them out.”

“Alright, alright.” He sighed, lingering a second longer before heaving himself to his feet with a whine, stretching his arms over his head and his wings out to their full spread, the display of them mesmerising as you watched them move. “Just give me five minutes to get dressed.”

As he passed by, he dipped, leaving a swift kiss on your cheek and dashing from the room, his footsteps becoming silent the further he got. There was a bashful smile on your lips, fingers reaching up to softly trace the spot where you could feel his lips, still tingling, as heat flooded over your cheeks in a wave. By the time you’d finally come around to yourself, it was to straighten up the cushions, carry away his mug to the kitchen and put the bottle of wine you’d spent half a day choosing out yesterday onto the counter.

Using the mirror hung in the hallway, you were still applying your lipstick when Azriel, true to his word, arrived only minutes after departing, now dressed. He was attempting to smooth down his hair as he arrived by your side. Now donned in dress pants and a smart button-up shirt, all in black, he waved his hands over himself. “Now I match you.”

“Oh, please, you exclusively wear all black.”

His answering smirk made your eyes roll, focus returning to the mirror to finish your lipstick application. “Fine, you matched me then.”

You scoffed. He only leaned one shoulder against the wall, crossing his ankles as he waited, watching you. That blush came crawling back. “Stop staring at me while I pout at the mirror.”

“It’s adorable.”

“Make yourself useful and go get the wine from the kitchen.” You finished up, tucking the lipstick inside of your purse and swiping a cardigan from the coat hooks, wrapping it over your shoulders before he returned. His brows were raised when he did, holding up the corked bottle in his hands. “What? I bought it with the last of my savings. It’s the best I could afford, but it’s still pretty good, I think. There were tasters at the winery.”

“Oh, so is that why you were so smiley and giggly when you came home yesterday? You were tipsy?”

His free hand landed on your hip, and your eyes narrowed on him. “I was not tipsy!”

“Sure.” He teased, your eyes rolling some more. You reached up, distracting him effectively enough by smoothing down the last of his untamed hair, hands settling on his shoulders. Beneath the buttons of his chest, a soft blue pulsed from under the fabric, and your hands smoothed down slowly to rest on that place. It hummed with warmth, the siphon underneath all but buzzing with the power it contained.

A quick flicker told you the ones on his hands were there, nor were the ones on his knees, or his shoulders. “These are beautiful.”

He was quiet, too quiet, and when your eyes found his, he was staring with what you could only describe as awe.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” His lips parted, but no sound came out, struggling to find his words for a moment, and you waited patiently for him to open up. “They mean something. I scare people, and they’re part of that image. You’re not scared of them? Of me?”

“Not one thing about you scares me, Azriel.” His grin told you enough, that your answer had found someplace deep inside of him, where it was needed, and he bowed his head enough to rest his forehead with your own. “Why are you wearing one tonight? You don’t wear them to bed.”

“Because I didn’t trust myself.”

“To do what?” You mused, his head finally rising, but his hand still squeezed your waist, sliding around a little further to band around your body.

“Not to lose control if they’re unkind to you again.” It was your turn to be struck deep, and you knew by the bob in his throat that he caught the hitch in your breath. Silence fell between you both, a moment dragging on for eternity and yet somehow being over far too quickly, when he shook his head softly. You don’t know what he read on your face, whether it was the surprise or adoration, or none of it at all. When he spoke again, it was with a raspy voice, dragging like gravel; “Ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He hesitated, only for a second as he pulled back, shadows wrapping tightly around your bodies while he waited for your nod of confirmation. Then, they coiled, blocking out all of the light and clearing only when the ground had fallen from your feet and been found once again. Before you stood the sprawling estate owned by the High Lord and Lady. If you hadn't known you were coming here, it would have been an easy guess.

Casual grandeur, understated beauty but breathtaking nonetheless. Colourful flowers lined rows around the base of the house, the river rushing softly across rocks behind you, faelights casting a warm glow over the cobbled path leading up to the main house. Step after step, you walked beside Azriel, his hand a warm and grounding presence on your lower back, comfort in every swipe of his thumb over your spine as you made your way up to the house.

As soon as the front door was opened, shadows darted in ahead of you both, instinct pulling them from the darkness to scope out every corner of the room before returning, nothing to report of the safe and familiar environment. Laughter was spilling out, every step further into the luxurious home carried that warmth and carefree happiness.

The room finally came into view, a large wooden dining table, decorated with candles, wine glasses, flowers and baskets of bread, the members around the table spread out comfortably, and you checked off mentally who was here, based on what Azriel had told you. Lucien, Elain’s mate, was not in attendance tonight. Nor was Varian, Amren’s lover. Four empty seats sat around the table, which went silent, as all attention fell to your entry.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Azriel.”

“What?” He pasted on a cocky look, masking the feelings you knew were roiling underneath his expression, his fingers twitching against your back. “You said come to dinner, see how the rest of the family reacts, so here we are.”

“I meant you alone,” The High Lord growled, and you checked those walls you’d been practising with were still intact, not failing to miss the snarl Rhysand let out as a cool feeling brushed over those barriers. Testing. Confused looks painted some of the faces at the table, looking between you both in the doorway, and the host sitting at the head, who looked as though he might actually burst from his anger. “This is inappropriate.”

Azriel pointedly ignored him, a slight pressure on your back nudging you forward, guiding you to two of the empty seats, pulling out the one beside Morrigan for you to sit in. Mumbling a quiet thank you, you sank into the seat, the incriminating stares laid onto you by everyone present only grew heavier when Azriel left a kiss on the top of your head in acknowledgement.

Not one to be ignored, Rhysand let his words burst free, “You cannot just bring your sugar-baby to dinner with the family!”

“Oh, but you can bring Tamlin’s kidnapped bride?”

You felt your muscles lock up at that smoothly spoken insult, the temperature in the room dropping several degrees, and when you looked up, they were locked in a stare, glaring at one another viciously.

Then Amren laughed, and you let it shake you back into motion, sliding the wine bottle out of Azriel’s white-knuckled grip as he moved to take his seat beside you.

“Azriel.” The single word was growled, so low and threatening, and a burst of night-kissed power rippled along the table, shaking glasses and cutlery. “Feyre is my mate, it’s different.”

“Not really,” Azriel all but chirped, defiance on every word, and nausea rolled in your stomach that he’d act this way over you. He sat, and you reached out, placing a hand gently on his forearm, squeezing. He placed a hand over your own, but didn’t look your way. “She may be your mate, but at the time she was merely Tamlin’s bride whom you stole from her wedding, on her wedding day, on a fucking technicality!”

“I knew she was my mate, and she was begging for help!” He slammed a hand down on the table, the cutlery shaking and rattling again, and you squeezed Azriel’s arm. He squeezed back. “She wasn’t just some whore from the gods-damned pleasure house!”

At that, the room seemed to freeze over. Not even Amren laughed now, and you knew the weight of that one word. The word that Rhysand had been branded with, the slur that was muttered behind his back for so long after the events Under the Mountain, and your heart thudded painfully hard in your chest, nerves taking over.

Their staring lasted for a second longer, before Azriel’s chair screeched back across the tiles. He stood, holding his hand out to you.

“Stand up, sweetheart. We’re leaving.”

“What?” Your gaze moved from his gaze to his eyes, and he wiggled his fingers, expression softening every second he looked at you.

“Az, wait, please stay.” Morrigan offered from your side. “I haven’t seen you for months, please stay.”

You remembered Azriel telling you that Morrigan had been away, he wasn’t even sure she’d be here tonight, she’d been on another continent playing the charming courtier for a while, and showing her girlfriend the bigger world. His eyes shuttered with regret and disappointment as he glanced at her. “I’ll see you another time, Mor. You should come over sometime.”

His hand dropped to your shoulder as his focus returned to you, squeezing lightly. Beneath his shirt, blue glowed so bright it lit up the fibres of his shirt now, straining to control his feelings. “C’mon, sweets. Let’s go home.”

“Azriel, please stay.” This time, it was the High Lady who spoke, all gazes moving to her as she effortlessly commanded the room.

“Fey, I’m sorry.” Finally, regret leaked into Azriel’s voice, no longer that firm and cruel tone, but the one you were so familiar with was back. “You know I didn’t mean any insult by it. Coming here was a mistake, and we should go.”

Rhysand huffed at those words, agreeing with that sound, but his wife only shook her head. “You made a valid point, Azriel. You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. I was just Tamlin’s bride, and before that, I was just a poor girl who was hunting in the woods.” Her sights moved to you then, your heart freezing as you were acknowledged directly, “I would have done anything to get by, too.” She shrugged, offering a small smile that did more to comfort you than she might ever know. Then she cut a sharp look at her husband. “We do what we must to survive.”

“I’m fine, Az. We should stay.” He looked torn, whole body shuddering a little with restraint, but he eventually sank into his seat again, tucking himself under the table. Lifting the bottle you held up in the air, you hoped your hands were shaking enough to be visible. “We brought some wine.”

“We have wine,” Rhysand muttered, but snapped his fingers, and let two new wine glasses appear before you and Azriel, angry expression still on his face. A silent conversation of some kind seemed to take place between him and his wife, because, after a moment of sharp looks and flickering expressions, he sighed, shoulders slumping. He picked up a bottle of his own wine, however, making sure that the expensive label was facing in your direction as he poured it.

Opposite you, the High Lady’s sister, Nesta, chugged her glass, finishing the near-full one off in one burst, and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before holding the now empty glass out to you. “I love that wine, used to drink it all the time. Rhysand won’t buy anything that isn’t at least half as old as he is, but expensive isn’t always better. Can I get some of that?”

Perking up a little bit, your over-eager nod would’ve been embarrassing, if Azriel’s hand didn’t shoot out faster than you could react yourself, taking the glass from her and bringing it closer to you both. Placing it down with your glasses, he took the bottle from you, uncorking it, and pouring three glasses, before passing her’s back. You didn’t miss the grateful smile on his face for her offered olive branch, or her curt nod in reply.

Dinner was soon served, by two wraith-like women by the names of Nuala and Cerridwen, who were silent as they moved through the room. Sat before you was a plate of some of the most decadent food you’d ever seen, a meal you’d rarely ever been able to afford to treat yourself to, and it was a simple weekend gathering for them.

Several different sets of cutlery were laid out before you, matching forks and spoons and knives of different sizes, all presumably for different purposes, and the cloying knot of shame and embarrassment gathered within you as everyone else seemed to know exactly which one to go for, and you had no idea.

A shadow swirled around one finger, before darting down to the cutlery, racing along a fork and nudging it just an inch to the side. Rhysand’s eyes were on you, you could feel the heavy stare as you picked it up cautiously, and the knife the shadow motioned you to as well, before offering a polite smile and digging into the food just like everyone else.

Azriel glanced down, brow raising in a barely-noticeable tick to check on you, and your dip of a nod was good enough to encourage him. The conversation seemed to flow on around the both of you, but rarely ever ventured enough to include you. Azriel would talk more often, occasionally a question was darted in your direction, but never anything that required more than a one or two-word answer.

The plates were cleared and you were a little relieved to have made it through, trying not to slouch in your seat, or do anything else that would only add to the bad reputation you’d already managed to be burdened with.

It was only the first course, a shock that came when a second, much larger plate of even more expensive and exquisite-looking food was placed before you. Shadow’s signalled you in again, and your half-drained wine glass was refilled, shared between you and Azriel with what was left of the bottle you’d brought.

The once sweet wine practically tasted sour in your mouth now as you plastered on a smile to get through the next stage of this evening. You weren’t here to have fun, though. You weren’t here to be liked, even if it would have been nice to make some friends. You were here to support Azriel, to give him the comfort and company he needed.

The more you looked around, the more you could see what he meant. The High Lord and Lady were not shy about their affections, practically curled into one another the entire time, touches frequent and sweet words murmured. Morrigan had been talking with Nesta for almost thirty minutes about her girlfriend, who must’ve been one of Nesta’s friends, and her mate was just as attentive. Cassian had eaten half of Nesta’s starter, what he hadn't gotten himself she’d fed to him with a smirk and kissed away any traces, even going so far as to lick the corner of his mouth when she thought nobody was looking.

Amren was silent and stealthy, reading her book and talking to nobody. You were sure if Varian had been present, or Lucien for Elain, it would have been even more unbearable. No wonder he was willing to extend such offers just for some relief.

Reaching out and placing a hand on his forearm, he jumped slightly, his cutlery clattering on his plate as his head whipped to you. Eyes a little wide as you trailed that hand down, he unfurled his fist a little, gaze never straying, as your hand closed atop his palm. With a squeeze, his lips flickered at the edges, a slow blink offered, before putting down his knife and turning his hand over to hold yours properly.

All eyes were on you, you were sure some looks dirty, but it didn’t matter. You were looking at him. At the smile he wore, the warmth creeping back in at the edges of his expression, the gratitude and the affection and the kindness. The Azriel you were so familiar with.

Somehow, just reaching for him, made the rest of dinner easier for you too.

It didn’t matter that nobody spoke to you for more than a minute or two, because you were far too distracted by the feeling of his hand in yours.

It didn’t matter that the dirty looks and double-edged questions never quite ceased, because when Azriel left a kiss on your temple and smoothed his hand over your hair after the plates had been cleared, your mind was practically empty for several moments.

It didn’t matter that you felt out of place, because with your head on his shoulder, and his cheek atop your crown, you’d never felt more at home.

Dessert was finally served, a decadent-looking chocolate cake and a round of coffees and teas, that made you grateful the meal was finally drawing to a close. It took all of your strength to pull away from Azriel, to sit properly once again to appreciate the cake before you.

“So, where were you living before…” Nesta waves her spoon idly around the room, before plunging it back into her dessert and taking another mouthful, “All this?”

“Before I met Azriel, or before I came to the Night Court?” You raised a brow, and she smirked around her spoon, shrugging. Azriel swiped his thumb across your knuckles, drawing your attention to him momentarily. He was staring at your collapsed hands, sitting before him on the table and watching his thumb moving slowly across your skin.

“Both.” Was all she gave, intrigue covering her tone.

You squeezed at Azriel’s hand, his attention snapping to you, and you raised your brows, a silent question if he was alright. He only nodded, letting that small smile touch his lips for a brief moment. “Well, before I moved to the Night Court, I was travelling, mostly. I wasn’t settled, I was trying to find where I wanted to set up some roots, and then I heard all about the Court of Dreams, and it sounded perfect for me, I always felt a little out of place at home.”

“So, when you arrived here, you just stumbled across our lovely shadowsinger?”

“We kinda’... stumbled across each other, I guess.” You squeeze Azriel’s hand again, his smile directed at the table this time as he squeezed back, before shuffling his chair an inch closer to your own. “We met in… well, I’m sure you’ve heard where we met, how we met, that whole tale, already. I was living in a shabby little apartment, and he did not like it very much.”

“Your place was atrocious, it should have been condemned.” He muttered, and your giggle at least made him smile, a one-shouldered shrug when Nesta rose her brows. “Seriously, Nesta, it made your apartment look like this place.”

He’d said a variation of that exact same thing to you already, the teasing scoff tumbling from your lips, pinching at his arm, and he jumped in shock, but did not take back the allegation. Instead, he only picked up your hand, eyes glittering a little as he kissed the back of it, diffusing any taunts you might have been building and melting them to utter mush.

“That bad, huh?” She chuckled, crossing her arms as she leaned back in her chair, utterly satisfied with the meal that had been provided. As you were, so full you could barely function anymore, on some of the best food you’d ever had.

“Whatever you’re picturing, double it.” Azriel groaned, sending a ripple of soft laughter between the three of you.

“So, what do you do now? I’m assuming not working at the place you met.” A loaded question, that was for sure, and you felt Azriel tense up beside you. The other chatter around the table seemed to quiet down, all attention falling to you now, and you cleared your throat before speaking up;

“I just got a new job, at a bakery-café in the market square.” In your periphery, you caught the sharp glance Azriel cut to one end of the table, a pointed glare to serve words he didn’t need to speak, before pulling his focus back. “It’s called Star-Crossed Bun, have you ever been?”

She let out a groan, eyes closing and head falling back as she patted her stomach. “I love Star-Crossed Bun, they make these little caramel cupcakes that are incredible. The girls and I go every week after training, on Fridays.”

“Perhaps I’ll see you in there, then!”

She only hummed, her gaze sweeping over you in a suddenly assessing way, and you wondered what had gone wrong. The conversation seemed to be flowing so well, it almost seemed like you’d made at least one friend at this dinner, and now her focus had turned from lazy and relaxed to sharp and calculating. “Have you ever held a sword before?”

“No. I think I’d drop one, or take off some of my own fingers if I even tried.”

Another hum. Another calculating stare. “You should come to training with us. I think Emerie and Gwyn would love to meet you.”

“Oh?” Your heart felt like it skipped over a beat, a grin coming back to her lips, her features softening again, and she shrugged. “Like… your sort of training?”

“You don’t have to be a warrior or anything, or come all the time. We could even just show you some simple self-defence. I think you’d like it, and you’d get to meet some new people in this court, and make some friends.”

“That sounds amazing, I’d love to!” Another squeeze from Azriel, before pulling your hand closer to his own, wrapping his second one around both of yours, and smiling to himself. “When is it?”

“Oh, well, Thursdays are cardio days, but Cassian and I are there every day. We train at the House of Wind, just show up whenever you can.”

A bolt of ice struck through you, tension filling your body once again, and that horrible sinking feeling of knowing something had been too good to be true froze over inside of you at the mention of the commander beside her. “I’ll let you know. I’m not too sure how I’d get there, I can’t rely on Az to winnow me everywhere.”

You tried your best to keep your tone light, to brush it off casually, and hopefully find a different way to bond with her. She’d mentioned the caramel cupcakes you could surely see her at the café, or bring some to the next dinner, perhaps— “Is it because I said cardio? Because if you come on Thursdays, I can make cardio fun, I swear!”

Your laugh felt empty now, and Azriel sat up a little straighter beside you, ready to speak. “It’s not the cardio, it’s Cassian. He terrifies her.”

The smile dropped from Nesta’s face, and she sat up straight too, her eyes narrowing as she glanced between you and Azriel, and her mate. “What?”

“No, no. That’s not it at all—”

“When you go full ‘Commander of Death’ on someone you’ve never met before, in their own home, while someone else picks through their brain like it’s a toy basket without even introducing themselves, it’s a little scary.”

“Azriel!” Your snap was harsh, a heaviness falling over an already silent table now, as both the culprits seemed to have moved their attention to their brother, the rest of the guests merely watching with curiosity.

“Sorry. I just…” Azriel heaved a sigh, slumping down in his seat until the tips of his wings were brushing the floor. “It wasn’t fair. You did nothing wrong, and it’s been bothering me since that day. You fucking hid behind me, in your own home! You looked more scared than the night we met, and you made me promise not to murder you.” A nostalgic smile brushed his face for half a second, an apology for his outburst already shining in his eyes when he looked at you fully. “You can’t expect me to just let that go.”

He was concerned, worrying beginning to stitch into his features, and even though he’d opened up about how you felt without your permission, you knew it wasn’t with bad intentions. He just wanted to protect you, and above all, that made you feel far more for him than irritation. “We’ll talk about it later.” You whispered, and he only nodded, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your forehead that left you blushing.

“You don’t have to train with Cassian.” Nesta only gave a brutal look in Cassian’s direction, who at least looked a little sheepish at the accusation, but any time you looked at him, all you could see was the scowl, the look in his eyes as if he’d kill you, and like it. “I mean, he’ll be there, but I’ll make sure he’s nowhere near you. And I promise, he wouldn't hurt you, even if he looks like a brute. I hope you do choose to come, I’d really like to see you.”

“I think you should go.” Azriel’s whisper was just for you to hear, and when you turned, his face was close to yours, so close you were almost cross-eyed to look at him. “She’s right, Emerie and Gwyn would like you a lot.”

“I’ll winnow you up sometimes too, if you’d like. So you don’t feel like you’re always asking Az.” When your eyes, and everyone else’s, moved to Mor in shock, she only finished off the red wine in her glass and shrugged. “Oh, please. Some people are being so melodramatic about all of this. Besides, Emerie would give me shit if I got home and told her I hadn't offered, anyway.”

“So it’s settled. You’ll come to training this week, give it a go.” Nesta smirked, and you guessed she might be used to getting her way by now, if the sparkle in her eyes was anything to go by. “Just one little trial session.”

All eyes were on you, even Azriel, and you caved with a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Okay, fine. I’ll be there.”

Nesta beamed to herself, cheering lightly, and Cassian gave a gruff chuckle as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. Averting your gaze towards Azriel as he now stared longingly at your cake, it was your turn to laugh.

“Would you like the rest of it?”

“Only if you’re not going to eat it.” Even as he spoke, though, he was lifting his spoon again, “We can share it?”

“Sure.” You confirmed, and he took off a chunk of it, offering it to you first. You almost accepted, but the thought of letting him feed you felt far too intimate in a room full of people who hated you.

His eyes narrowed slightly, and then he nodded, settling further back in his seat and dragging the plate to sit between you both.

When that plate was finally clear, Azriel didn’t hesitate to finish off his wine, slouching back into his seat as far as his wings would let him, one stretched out behind half of your chair, too. His hand reached out, settling on your elbow and shaking you gently from the conversation you’d been listening to Elain and Morrigan have about the former’s gardening crop this summer.

“Are you ready to leave?” He offered, fingers flexing on your arm before sliding away.

“Are you?”

“Yes. I’m…” He glanced around, shrugging when Cassian’s focus lay solely on him, and clearing his throat to speak a little louder. “I’m tired, I’d like to go home.”

“Thank you for staying, Az.” His High Lady said, voice as delicate as ever, and her tone dipped far closer to professionalism than friendly as she moved to you. “Thank you both for coming.”

“Thank you for having us. The food was lovely, the company even more so.” You matched her tone, a smile and a glance around the table without truly meeting anybody’s gaze. Azriel stood, extending his hand to you, and taking your purse in his other. Standing with him, Azriel dipped halfway into a far more dramatic exit, waving a hand cordially.

“It’s been a pleasure. Shall we see you next week?”

The question hung like fog in the air, blinding and disabling, and Rhys’ jaw ticked as he considered it. “If it makes you happy, I suppose we will be.” He finally ground out, expression as tight and sharp as it was polite.

“If we don’t have plans, we’ll be here.” It was Azriel’s wicked way of lighting the tension, and even Rhys offered a chuckle, finally ending their stalemate, even as he rolled his eyes. He waved a hand at you both, and Azriel’s ran along your back, shadows clouding you in, your breath held until you were finally back in the familiar corridors of Azriel’s home.

The breath slipped free with a heavy sigh. Putting down your purse, you turned toward the coat rack, not making it very far before two hands were settling on your shoulders, stilling your movements. In the hallways mirror, you could see Azriel behind you, wings tucked in tight, shadows bustling like busy streets, chaos as he took half a step closer. He lowered, forehead resting on the back of your head, after leaving a kiss there.

“Are you mad at me?” Azriel asked, peeling your cardigan down your arms slowly, the warmth of his body leaking into you from behind, and you could only give a soft laugh. As he hung it up on the coat hooks, you turned to face him, still closer to his height as you balanced in your heels, arms looping easily around his neck.

“I’m not mad at you.” He sighed again at that, his hands coming to rest on your hips this time, pulling you a little closer, until you could practically feel the pulsing of the siphon beneath his shirt, mimicking a heartbeat. “I just don’t want you making enemies of your family over me. I can defend myself, and you don’t have to pick between them or me.”

He didn’t respond, only leaning in to give another sweet kiss, this one to the tip of your nose. Running your hands over his shoulders and down his arms, thick muscles were taut and lined with lingering tension once again.

“Why don’t I make us some tea, and bring it upstairs for us? We can sit and read for a while.”

“I’d like that.”

Using him for balance to kick off your heels before letting him go, he padded away through the house as you made your way to the kitchen. Once the water was set to boil and you’d chosen a relaxing brew for the evening’s choice, you took your time to prepare for bed yourself.

A tray with two steaming mugs on and a jar of honey later, and you were carrying it slowly through the house towards the bedroom, shadows flickering along, crawling in the tight corners of the walls as you walked.

By the time you were nudging your way through Azriel’s half-cracked door, he was just settling in at the cushions of his bed, glancing up to watch you set the tray on the bedside table on the opposite side.

“You’re not in bed yet.”

Not a question but a statement, and he only shrugged, peeling back the covers on both sides of the bed, and crawling in himself, spreading his wings to sit comfortably. “I was just thinking about stuff, is all.”

“Are you okay?” He gave a hollow laugh, rolling his head slowly on his shoulders to look at you, accepting the mug you held out to him with a quiet thanks, sniffling the steam that came off and loosing a breath filled with worries.

“I should be asking you that after tonight. I never should have taken you there.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, it was my choice to go. I had to convince you to take me, so you’re not allowed to carry the guilt of it all.” He notched a brow a little higher, blowing on the surface of his tea, and amusement flickered over his features. Just what you’d wanted.

“I’m not allowed?”

“No. If anyone is going to take the guilt, it's me. It's mine. You can’t have it.” You offered him the honey, only to receive a small shake of his head as he sipped the first taste, and you loaded a spoonful into your own. “Are you okay, though?”

“Are you?” He countered.

“I’m fine, Az.” He didn’t look like he believed you, only staring, like he’d be able to read right into your soul. Putting down your mug, and taking a bracing breath, you laid a knee on the mattress, then another, inching across the bed before swinging a leg across his own. His eyes went wider, watching as you settled yourself into his lap, sitting on his thighs. “Give me your hands.”

“My hands?” He offered them anyway, throat bobbing in a series of swallows as you took them, rubbing your fingers across his palms slowly.

“Azriel, look at me.” His brows dipped, and you set his hands onto your hips gently, his fingers flexing there. “Really look at me. See that I’m okay. I’m stronger than you think. I know you want to look after me, and it makes me so happy that you do. Nobody has ever wanted to look after me before. But that made me strong. I’ve always been looking out for myself, and I want you to know that. Trust me. I can handle more than you think.”

“I do trust you.” His voice cracked, and he sat up further, hauling you up his body until his chest was almost pressed to your own, his arms slipping around your back. “But there’s something. Something that makes me… I want— I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy, Azriel. I’m happy, and I’m okay. I’m great. If that changes, I’ll tell you.” Settling your hands on his cheeks, his eyes shuttered, leaning a little further into your touch.

“You will?”

“Do you want me to promise it?”

He chuckled, dragging his hand up your spine, to cup the back of your neck, where the promise-brand you’d once sworn to him for all of twenty minutes had once sat. “No, I don’t want any more of those on your skin. Not even to me. Don’t make a promise unless you have no other way. If they’re not worded right, you can be held captive by someone until they die, or you find a way to fulfil the impossible. Don’t do it.”

Leaning in, your forehead rested on his own, and he tipped his face up a little, eyes closing. “Do you want me to promise to make no promises?”

Bubbling, bursting laughter ruptured from him, his body jolting under your own as his face fell to your neck instead, bunching you into his body to hold on tight. A deep, throaty sound that was irresistible, your laughter joining in. “You’re a goddamn menace, sugar.”

“Gotta’ keep you on your toes somehow.”

#SLS #sweet like sugar #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel x you #azriel/you #acotar x reader #acotar/reader #acotar x you #acotar/you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #a court of thorns and roses #acotar

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fanwarriorfictions · 23 days

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Not Again - Part Eight

Summary: It’s been nearly four days since Y/n had collapsed, and she still hadn’t woken. Azriel won’t leave her side, he can’t, no matter how worried his family is.

Warnings: none really, kind of a shorter chapter

Series Masterlist

Another day had passed, Azriel refused to leave her room, he sat in the chair by her bedside and would not move no matter how much his family pestered him. Rhys had forced him to at least put some clothes on, but other than that, he’d stayed right at her bedside and spoke to her, feeling the pulse in her wrist flutter each time, feeling that evidence that she was still there. He read to her out of one of the books on her night stand, obvious gifts from Nesta. He struggled through some chapters, face warm, others he skipped entirely.

“Dinner is served,” Mor struts into the room, a tray balanced in her hands, “I can watch over her while you eat and take a damned bath.”

He frowns up at her, “I don’t-“

“Yes you do,” she sniffs pointedly, “You’ve been bed ridden for two days and haven’t bathed once since you woke. She won’t go anywhere, I promise.”

Azriel looks at the female in question, her lips were slightly turned down at the edges, like she could hear them and wasn’t happy to have him leave, “Fine.”

As soon as the word is out of him mouth, he hears running water in the attached bathroom, it seems the house was sick of him stinking up the place. He sighs, carefully standing up from the chair, shaking his head when Mor moved into casual reach incase he fell.

“I’ll be right back,” he says.

“I don’t doubt that,” she sighs, rolling her eyes at him, “at least take the time to wash your hair.”

Azriel doesn’t respond as he closes the door behind him, sighing through his nose as he rest against it. There was this strange anxiety in him, even though Y/n was just on the other side of the wall. Watched over by one of his closest friends. The female he’d spent centuries believing he was in love with, and the female he, he didn’t know what it was he felt for. There was this feeling in him, this feeling of desperation when she’d been in danger, before that when she was about to leave him, when he’d seen her cry beneath the stars. Not love, gods he’d known her less than a week, but there was something, something there. A string of shadow connecting them together, one he refused to let go of. Whatever it was, he wonders if the swirling eddies of the cauldron, or the mysterious force of the Wyrd, that brought her here, right to him.

With Quinlann, it had been the blades, Gwydion and Truth Teller, calling to each other from across the stars. When she’d opened the portal between realms, they found each other. But with Y/n, there wasn’t a reason, there was no mysterious object, no intent. Simply a portal that had torn her from her home and thrown her into his path. He’d spent the last day pondering about it, about why exactly she was brought here, brought to him, and he’d come up with nothing but blanks.

Azriel forces himself to focus on the bath before him, to get in and out as quickly as possible so he could get back to her. The water was lukewarm, like the house knew he wasn’t ready to feel the heat. His bandages had been changed early in the day by Madja, the burn on his chest had been the worst of the damage, the imprint of Y/n’s shoulders burned into him from holding her to him. It would heal, there may be the faintest scar, a darker, rougher patch of skin. He found that he didn’t mind it, that he’d be left with that permanent memory of her, even when she finally found her way home.

He scrubs methodically, using the same lavender scented bar of soap on his hair and his body, not bothering with the bottles of soaps lining the edge of the bath. He submerges his entire body, wings included to rinse off, and he’s up and drying off quickly.

The house provides him with a comfortable set of black sleep clothes, loose fitting shirt to not irritate the burns. He dresses without thought, quickly buttoning the shirt around his wings as he moves towards the door.

“Record time,” Mor says as he walks into the room, “I’m surprised you bothered with a towel, instead of shaking out like a dog.”

He rolls his eyes, taking his seat beside Y/n. She hadn’t moved at all, he hadn’t expected her to, her lips would sometimes twitch in her sleep, but that was the only movement he’d seen.

“She’s not going to disappear,” Mor says gently, “You can rest for a while.”

Azriel knew that, knew that if he crossed the hall and collapsed into bed like his body begged him to do, she was would be right here where he left her. But he couldn’t do it, not until she was awake and he could see those eyes, see that insufferable smile, hear her soft accent. He was a desperate fool.

“I’m fine,” he says, “thank you for the food.”

Mor frowns, “I’m worried about you.”

“I know-“

“No I don’t think you do,” she snaps, arms crossed over her chest, “I don’t know what happened between you two, I don’t want to know, but I can’t stand to see you fall apart over a female you hardly even know.”

“Nothing happened between us.” It’s the truth but somehow it feels like a lie on his tongue, “I don’t expect you to understand it, I don’t even understand it.”

“I’ve had lovers in the past, hell I pined after you for centuries.” Azriel doesn’t miss the way she flinches, he’d never actually said the words aloud, “but this is different, she’s just different. She’s not my lover, I don’t love her, I just- I don’t- When I saw her there, trapped in that spell, it felt like someone was carving my heart from my chest with a dull knife, hacking through skin and bones and ripping the thing out.”

He shudders, looking down at Y/n, whatever this was, gods he didn’t know, he didn’t want to know, he just wanted her to wake up.

Azriel feels a slight pressure on his shoulder, Mor’s hand resting there in gentle reassurance, “She’ll wake up.”

“I hope so.”

Azriel wasn’t sure what exactly woke him up, the pain in his back from being slumped over in his chair, his shadows frantically swirling around him, or the hand that gently twines through his hair. His half asleep brain decides the feeling is very very nice and he almost goes right back to sleep.

“Are you alive over there, shadowsinger? It’d be a shame if you weren’t.”

That soft swirling accent washes over him like the warm surf of the summer court. It has him launching up out of his chair, eyes wide and staring at the female who sits up in the spot she’d laid for the past three almost four days. Her face was washed in silvery moonlight from the window, hair a tangled mess on her head, her eyes wide and warm with the fire in her blood, gods she was beautiful.

He’s surging forward before he can even think that it might be a bad idea. Her face is warm, soft between his scarred hands, and her lips feel like heaven as he crashes his mouth to hers.

Her hands grip the front of his shirt, pulling him closer and he could die right then and there. Their lips move in tandem, tongues and teeth clashing in desperation. He can feel her sharp canines, the way they drag on his lower lip, she could tear him to pieces with them and, Mother above, he would let her.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again.” He pulls back just enough to growl against her, “Don’t you dare, princess.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going soft on me, shadowsinger,” she grins against his lips, that insufferable little smile, “it’ll ruin your whole dark brooding warrior image.”

“Shut up.”

She barely has the time to laugh before his lips cover hers again. Azriel’s shadows writhe around them, pulling her closer and closer till she’s practically sitting in his lap. His hands grip her waist, so hard that he’s sure she’ll have bruises in the shape of them. Her hands are tangled in his hair, pulling at the strands in a way that has Azriel purring. Everywhere she touched left him burning, burning with desire for more, more, more.

He’s moving, lips trailing across her jaw and down the side of her throat, he can feel her heart racing, maybe that was his own. Her head falls back, giving his better access to her throat. She lets out a breathless sigh when his teeth graze that sensitive spot, and Azriel wants to hear that noise again and again and again.

“Az,” she gasps, fingers digging into his shoulders like she’s trying to ground herself, “I, gods, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but hold on.”

It takes more effort than it should to pull away, to look into her eyes without begging her to let him keep going, “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, this is amazing,” she sighs, “more than that. I just- I need a minute.”

Azriel sees that look in her eyes, that broken heart behind a wall of ice, “Whatever you need, princess.”

Her head falls, hiding, “I failed, Az. I- I did everything the books said, and I fucked it up.”

His heart squeezes in his chest, and he can’t help but to tug her into his arms. She collapses into him, face buried in the silk of his shirt and she cries. Those silent heavy tears, so Azriel holds her tight as she cries and cries and cries.

Y/n feels warm, safe, there’s a comforting weight across her waist, a hard wall behind her.

Her eyes open, blinking at the bright sunlight streaming through her window. It must be late morning, it had been the middle of the night when she’d woke, finding her hand clasped in Azriel’s, the male himself asleep in the most uncomfortable position possible.

When she’d seen him there, moonlight dancing over his features, she thought he was the most beautiful male she’d ever seen. It felt like her hand moved on its own, raking through those black strands of hair, the slight curl to them tickling her palm.

She’d felt him stirr, felt the way he’d pushed into her hand like a cat seeking attention. It was incredibly cute, which is something she was sure had never been used to describe the spy master.

When he’d realized she was awake, when he’d looked into her eyes, she’d seen the utter desperation behind his whiskey eyes. And when his lips had fallen onto hers, she felt it too. He kissed like a man starved, like she was his last meal and he was going to savor every bite of her. He kissed her like she meant something, like she was worth worshipping. Gods she wanted him to do just that, to take her for all she was worth, to ravish her until she was screaming. But then his teeth had caressed the side of her neck, her pulse racing beneath, and she felt herself slipping, felt the memories slam into her, of the matching scars her parents wore proudly on their necks, of the burning words in her throat, of the spell that had taken control of her and had tried to swallow her whole.

She felt everything crashing into her all at once, and when Azriel had looked at her, nothing but understanding in his eyes, she broke. She must have cried herself to sleep, to be waking up near noon.

Y/n froze as the wall behind her shifted, a body, she realized, that weight across her waist, an arm. Azriel.

She glances over her shoulder, finding the sleeping male. He held her close, face tucked into her shoulder. He made no noise, just soft breathing, lips slightly parted. They were laying beneath the knitted blanket that was usually folded by the foot of the bed, like he hadn’t wanted to wake her to get her beneath the covers.

Y/n shifts, gently trying to lift his arm so that she could escape to the bathroom, but the second she tried, his arm tightens and she’s pulled back against his chest.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Gods spare her, his voice was deep and rasping in her ear. Her eyes look back over her shoulder and she’s met by those hazel eyes, still heavy with sleep. His gaze feels like a brand, like he was taking in all of her, like he was planning to claim her in every way possible.

“The bathroom preferably,” she says, throwing in as much snarky energy as possible to hopefully hide the way her face was heating.

He sighs, “I suppose that’s fine.”

“You suppose?” She scoffs, pushing the heavy arm still wrapped around her waist, “Let go of me you overgrown bat.”

He holds tighter for just a second, “You wound me, princess.”

“You’ll get over it.” She slips out from beneath his hold, “Keep your wandering shadows to yourself, I’m going to bathe, I smell like death.”

Azriel looks at her with predatory focus, resting on his elbows so he can look her up and down, “Hm, I hadn’t noticed.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” she rolls her eyes, “Keep them out, I’ll be back.”

Azriel settles back into the pillows, eyes watching each step she takes into the room beyond. She can still feel his gaze when she shuts the door behind her, heavy and burning.

The bath is already filled with steaming water, clothes and towels laid out for her. She thanks the house quietly, slipping out of her tattered clothes and into that hot water.

Her head tilts back, a quiet moan slipping past her lips at the feeling, her body sore from whatever had taken control during the spell, and then even more from laying in bed for the past several days. She takes her time, washing every spot of herself to rid that scent of smoke. Her hair takes longer, tangled and brittle, she uses half the bottle of the sweet smelling soap.

All of her movements are precise, methodical, to keep her brain and hands busy. Because if she stops for to long, her mind is ripped back to that room, to the yawning portal of darkness, that presence on the other side beckoning, whispering, playing with her. What ever it was, ancient and cold, dark and cruel, she felt it reaching for her. And at the same time she’d felt another pull, one from behind, one begging her to stay, to let go of the gods damned book. A string, a lifeline, a way back. She’d cling to that, and let it pull her out.

But still, on the other side of that portal she heard a whisper, a voice young and old, pay the price, gods killer’s kin, pay the price.

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#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel x reader #rowaelin daughter #rowaelin #not again #a court of thorns and roses

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unseededtoast · 2 months

Text

Thin Air | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: In which you realize how much you lost when you accepted a new job, and that you may be destined to only share fleeting moments with the one who has your heart.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted

wc: 6.6k

"Spencer, please." You beg through your moans.

"Be patient, baby."

Five years ago

The door slams shut behind you as your coat gets taken off and discarded somewhere in the apartment. Your senses are a blur, the only thing you can bother to concentrate on is exploring every inch of Spencer.

His lips connect with yours sloppily, a heated exchange that you've waited for since the day you started working at the BAU.

His lithe fingers unbutton your shirt with ease as you tangle your fingers in his hair. You gently tug, eliciting a breathy moan from him; it's music to your ears and you can't get enough.

The two of you stumble through his apartment clumsily, neither of you able to stay apart from the other long enough to normally walk to the bedroom. You follow his lead blindly until the back of your legs hit the edge of his bed. Without thinking twice, you lay back, quickly followed by Spencer who is determined to kiss every square inch of your body.

The room is filled with the sounds of breathy moans from the both of you, Spencer's lips on your neck finding your sweet spot. Your eyes flutter shut as your fingers begin undoing his shirt, the two of you are still fully clothed and you're doing your best to rectify that immediately.

You feel Spencer smirk as you unbutton his shirt with trembling fingers and he shrugs it off quickly and makes quick work of your own. Your heated skin melds with his and the closer contact makes your jaw fall slack. You're convinced that if you can't feel all of him soon that you might combust.

"Spencer, please." You beg through your moans as he takes his time working his way down your body. His fingers trace every curve of you, as if he's making a detailed mental map of your body. He grabs the soft skin of your hips and tugs your pants off as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

"Shh be patient, baby." He answers, licking his lips before placing sloppy kisses on your thighs. Your fingers find their way back into his wavy hair, and his find the plumpness of your hips and pulls you closer to him.

All coherent thoughts leave your mind as you sink further and further into a bliss-filled oblivion, and all you care about is the man kneeling in front of you.

Your only regret is not acting on your feelings sooner, leaving you with only this one night with him.

-----

Spencer walks into work the next day feeling conflicted and anxious. You hadn't been beside him when he woke up this morning like he expected. Of course, he's trying to tell himself you probably just went home to get ready for work, surely you didn't want to come in wearing yesterday's clothes.

But as the hours tick by without any sign of you, his stomach starts twisting itself in knots. He checks his phone for any message from you just to find an empty lock screen. Trying to ease his nerves he sends you a quick message, asking if you're okay. And he checks his phone compulsively for any notification for the next hour.

After he sends the message he tries his best to casually ask around about if anyone has heard from you today. The others all say no, and they don't seem too concerned, they chalk it up to a hangover from last night. But you didn't have that much to drink. Spencer's mind races with worst-case scenarios but tries to stay calm. Maybe you had ditched work because you didn't want to see him, or maybe something bad happened to you.

His foot taps against the floor at lightning speed as he checks his phone one more time. No response. Something within him is telling him something is wrong. And so he moves without thinking and heads to Hotch's office. The worry must've been obvious on his face as Hotch motions for him to take a seat.

"I assume you're here because she didn't show up today." Hotch guesses correctly, and Spencer nods in confirmation. Hotch grabs a piece of paper off his desk and reads over the words once before handing the letter to Spencer. His eyes quickly read the words in seconds and by the time he's read it four times over his stomach drops.

You weren't coming back to the BAU. And you don't say why.

Spencer hurriedly pushes the paper back into Hotch's hands before excusing himself. He tugs at the collar of his shirt as he rushes to get some fresh air. His mind is spinning for answers, and for the first time in a long time, he cannot find one.

-----

Present Day

You squint your eyes against the sun as you watch the front door of the house you had been tasked to stake out with your partner. Today is the deadline your supervisor had given you, and so far you had no results to show for your month-long surveillance mission. You had a sneaking suspicion the target had figured out he was being tailed and moved locations, but of course, you had nothing to back that up.

"I don't think we're going to see him in the next five minutes." Your partner sighs beside you, checking his watch. Angrily, you chew on the inside of your cheek, frustrated to have no results.

"I know he's gone somewhere else." You eventually say, turning the key to start the car so the two of you can go back and report to your supervisor.

"Yeah I know, I think so too. But we have no way of knowing where. I can't believe how slippery this guy is!" Your partner exclaims in disbelief as you begin driving back to headquarters. You huff,

"There's gotta be something there in his behavior that we just aren't seeing." You say, gripping the steering wheel tight. After all your years at the BAU you're unable to correctly profile the target. It's embarrassing and you've become all too frustrated with yourself.

The rest of the drive goes by in silence, the two of you are too wrapped up in the failure to say anything. And once you reach headquarters, the both of you take your time getting to the office, knowing that your supervisor is waiting for answers that you simply don't have.

But eventually you make your way up there. Your supervisor is waiting with crossed arms and a stern expression on her face. Your partner speaks first, admitting your shortcomings as a team. Your supervisor looks thoroughly annoyed with the results, and you know exactly what you have to do next. You just hope it doesn't come back to bite you.

"We should call in my old team. They're the best of the best, world-class profilers. I guarantee they'll be able to help us out." Your voice is confident, masking the nerves that twist your stomach.

"And you're sure of this?" Your supervisor asks with a cocked eyebrow. Nodding your head, you confirm

"I know they will." You say with finality. With a sigh, your supervisor agrees to contact them.

As you turn and walk away from your supervisor's office, you hope that you didn't just make a mistake. You had up and left your team out of nowhere, for all you know they could resent you for what you did. But, you know there's no better team on this planet than them, and this target needs to be caught before more people are killed.

-----

"Pack your bags everyone, we've been called in by the CIA to assist in one of their cases. We will be briefed on the plane, it'll be a short trip." Hotch announces as everyone gathered around the table. There's a stoic look on his face that tells Spencer the case they've been called to help on is of a serious nature.

Given thirty minutes to prepare, Spencer takes his time and makes a cup of coffee for the trip before collecting his go-bag. He always keep a bag for short trips and a bag for long trips in case something like this springs up. He learned the hard way that being underprepared is a recipe for disaster in the field.

Once the team settles in their usual spots on the plane, Hotch begins briefing everyone on the case.

"We've been called to assist in locating James Barnes, wanted for several counts of murder in five different countries. It seems he's evaded CIA efforts to tail him, they need our help in decoding his behaviors to determine where he's likely to go next. This is a top secret mission, nobody outside of this team and the CIA will know what's going on." Hotch's explanation is short and sweet. The gravity of the mission weighs heavily on Spencer as he usually works on geographic profiles. But he knows that as a team they're likely to succeed.

The trip to the CIA headquarters doesn't take long at all, and before Spencer's finished his cup of coffee, they're unloading from the plane. Somebody will take their belongings to the hotel while they immediately start on the case. Spencer's glad he made this cup of coffee, as he thinks this is bound to be an exhausting case.

He follows Derek into the briefing room they've been ushered into and takes a seat at the table, setting his cup on the sleek glass before taking a seat. And as he settles in he looks to the CIA team in charge of the mission, his eyes landing right on you.

Spencer feels like the world has stopped spinning and the blood in his veins has turned to ice. After years of not knowing where you were, here you stand in front of him alongside some of the most renowned CIA agents.

-----

You've got about fifteen minutes before the team's plane lands but you're not sure your heart will survive that long with the way it's pounding in your chest. You pace around your office to try and work off some anxiety but it doesn't seem to be working.

Nausea creeps in behind the anxiety and your stomach feels like it's been tied into a knot. A part of you thinks you might be having some sort of medical emergency. But you know it's just because you're scared.

You're scared of seeing your old team again, possibly with your replacement. You don't know if they hate you, if they think you're dead, or anything else they may have presumed from your absence. It's the not knowing that's driving you up the wall. But fifteen minutes comes and goes and before you're prepared, you're walking to the conference room.

Your partner and supervisor are already there, waiting for the team when you walk in. You take a seat next to your partner and straighten your clothes, wanting to look your best and not as disheveled as you feel.

"So you really have that much faith in these guys?" Your partner asks, snapping you out of your trance. You blink a few times, processing what he's said until you find an answer.

"I do." Short, simple, and not at all good at masking your nerves. You hear several footsteps coming down the hall and know the time has come.

Hotch is the first to walk in, followed closely by Emily, JJ, Penelope, Derek, and then Spencer. The sight of him alone is enough to send you spiraling. Your lungs burn for oxygen and your eyes beg you to blink but all you can focus on is the tall man who you've never fallen out of love with.

You watch as he takes a seat and situates himself next to Derek. And then, after he sets his coffee down, his eyes scan the room. And then they land on you.

It's as if the air has been forcefully sucked from your body, like you had just been kicked in the chest. For a brief moment it sounds like you're underwater and the edges of your vision make it seem like you're in a tunnel.

But thankfully the sound of your supervisor speaking breaks his gaze from you. You bite down hard on the skin inside your cheek, begging yourself to stay seated and composed. You're keenly aware by now that every single one of your old teammates is staring you down like they've just seen a ghost. And in a way they have, you were supposed to disappear without a trace, yet here you sit.

Your supervisor introduces the team to you and you to the team, as if you were all complete strangers. A pit in your stomach tells you that this is going to be the most complicated case you've ever worked, and a voice in the back of your mind wonders if calling the BAU was a mistake after all.

But deep down you know that it doesn't matter in the end. After all, you're going to vanish from them once again when they return home. It's the design of the job. A heartbreaking, but effective, design. One that you almost regret signing up for.

-----

After your supervisor has introduced the BAU to the case, Hotch is given permission to split up the team into their most effective specialties. Emily and JJ are tasked to stay with your partner and assist him with his leads, Penelope is assigned to work her magic with the computer, which leaves you to be assigned with Derek and Spencer.

Hotch had to have done this on purpose. But he doesn't stick around long to watch the fallout of his decision. Instead, he follows your supervisor out of the room, leaving you alone with Derek and Spencer.

The room is full of tension, one that weighs heavily on you. It's difficult for you to even look at them, much less assist them in the investigation. Why wouldn't Hotch have assigned Emily and JJ to stay with you? That surely would've worked out a lot better for everyone. But perhaps this is your bad karma catching up to you for what you did to them.

Swallowing your pride, you decide you can no longer ignore their presence. You lift your eyes from the floor and look at Derek first, not having it within you to look at Spencer. Derek looks back with an intense gaze, one that you're not sure is welcoming.

"So this is where you've been?" He questions, looking around the briefing room. You nod your head,

"Yeah, I've been here, working this mission." You tell him the truth. He hums in response, leaving the room to fall back into an uncomfortable silence.

But you can only take it for so long. Eventually, you break the silence and decide to just give them work to do and hopefully that takes up everyone's time and attention. You put a map up on a board, one that you had already been working on and you explain the markings. The suspect's theorized hiding spots, where his associates live, and where he was most recently spotted until he was lost.

Both Spencer and Derek study the map while you step to the back of the room. A part of you hopes their fresh perspective is enough to crack the case in a day. At least that way you could disappear once more and never have to face their judgmental looks again.

However, as you stand behind them, you can't help but to miss your BAU days. There were several cases where the three of you worked alongside one another just like this. Back when you were head over heels for Spencer, but kept it a secret. You miss those days, the ones you thought were inconsequential and boring, and you realize that you took it all for granted.

At the BAU you had friends who cared about you, and you for them. You had a team of the most supportive people on this Earth. And you threw it all to the side when the CIA offered you a position. You had been starstruck by being recruited that you failed to see what you truly had to give up before it was too late. Sure, you got paid more and got to work on higher profile cases, but these people here don't care about you like the BAU does. No, the people here chase their own accolades and couldn't care less about anyone else but themselves.

And perhaps, in a way, you had become that selfish as well. After all, you had only acted on your feelings for Spencer once you knew you had secured the job. You wanted to experience him before you left, and you didn't once regard his feelings about the situation. It was entirely selfish, and something you had come to deeply regret. If you could turn back time, you know you either would have acted on your feelings sooner, or not have said anything at all. Either of those outcomes would have been better than what you did to him.

-----

Hours later you find yourself in the break room for a snack. Having the BAU here meant that your regular hours had been thrown out the window, and while they're here working, you're here working as well. They have not been given permission to work this case unsupervised. And one thing you know for certain about your old team is that they work tirelessly until they find an answer.

The harsh light from the fridge burns your dry eyes, but the sound of approaching footsteps forces you to choose something. You land on an apple that had been in there for a few days, you figure it's good enough. The footsteps enter the room and you see Penelope walking in, looking like she's ready to sleep for the next three weeks straight.

She sees you and gives a polite smile, which makes your heart sink. Usually you and Penelope went on and on about anything and everything under the sun. She must have felt burned by your abrupt exit from the team as well. And you can't blame her, if the roles were reversed you know you'd feel at least a little bitter. But you can't stand the coldness from her, it makes you want to repair the relationships that were damaged. And so before you can even think things through, you speak up.

"I am sorry, I hope you know that. I wasn't allowed to tell anyone where I was going." Your voice is hoarse from working long hours. Penelope stops in her tracks and looks over to you, a softness in her eyes.

"I looked for you everywhere and I couldn't find you. I thought something had happened. I never stopped looking." She says, her voice breaking which causes your heart to feel like it's been shredded into a million little pieces.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am to have done this to you and the team. Trust me, if I could go back and do things differently, I would. But I'm glad you all are here now." You say, telling her the truth. You are glad they're here, and you figure this might be your last chance to patch things up with your old team.

"I'm glad we came too. At least we know now that you're okay." She says and picks up a granola bar. You can tell from the way she moves to the door that she doesn't want to talk much, and so you let her go.

It must be a lot for them to process, and you try to give them some space to process their feelings about everything. And before you leave for the night, you promise yourself that you're going to apologize to every single person. Whether they accept it or not isn't in your control, but you know you have to extend your sorrows, so that they know you regret how you left them.

-----

The next few days go by uneventfully. You met the team here and Derek and Spencer worked together, leaving you out of most of their conversations. Of course, you still listened in, you just weren't treated as an active participant, even though this is technically your mission. However, you can't find it within yourself to protest much.

The BAU had come up with some interesting developments, and you know you likely only have two more days at most with them. You're not sure whether you want time to speed up or slow down. As they talk about another theory, you find yourself looking at Spencer and remembering how good things between the two of you had been.

You and Spencer had bonded relatively quickly when you first started at the BAU. The two of you were the newest on the team, and everything felt seamless with him. Both of you shared an affinity for learning, and there were many times you'd drive the rest of the team crazy by talking nonstop on the flight. And of course, over the years you had formed quite the crush on Spencer. For years you kept it to yourself, up until the night before you were scheduled to leave.

But here he is now, right in front of you after all these years. He's just as tall as you remember, but he's filled out some, and his hair is longer now too. You admire the way it curls around the nape of his neck and appreciate the veins in his hands as he points to a spot on the map. His shirt sleeves have been pushed to his elbows, and you cannot deny how good he looks.

Derek breaks you out of your trance of admiration as he tells Spencer his coffee order. Neither of them ask for yours, and so you let Spencer leave without saying a word, leaving just you and Derek alone.

Derek had also been a close friend, and you know he always took things to heart. You can't imagine how badly you had hurt him by vanishing. He sits at the table, and leans back in his seat to stretch. Running a hand over your face, you know your time has come to finally talk to him. And so like Penelope, you start off with an apology.

"I hope you know I never meant to hurt you all by leaving. They wouldn't let me tell anyone." You offer, trying to minimize the damage, though you know there's nothing you can say that will truly make it all better. Derek looks over to you with an unreadable expression.

"We didn't know what happened. You just left a letter and disappeared." You hear a tinge of anger in his voice.

"I know. And I am sorry, I really am. I love all of you, and I'm sorry that I've caused so much pain." You tell him from the bottom of your heart. Derek looks away and sighs, opening and closing his mouth a few times before deciding what he wants to say.

"We're glad that you're okay, all of us were worried about you, and we couldn't find you. You should've seen Spencer, I've never seen him so upset before. But, I understand why you did it." He says, finally looking back over to you, meeting your eyes.

"Thank you for understanding." You say, thankful that at least one of them has at least a hint of forgiveness for you.

"And you know, if you ever get tired of this CIA thing, we're always here for you. Might have to convince Hotch you're not a flight risk though." He cracks a smile.

"Yeah, I wish I could come back. I was young and dumb and naive when I took this offer. Got caught up in the name and the secrecy of it all, I didn't know what I had right in front of me." You tell him, wanting to get some of your regrets off your chest. He shrugs,

"It's not a bad gig, they chose one of the best to recruit, I'll give them that." He says as the door opens and Spencer returns with the coffees.

Spencer ignores you, and the two of them pick up where they left off. And they work and work until they finally come to a consensus. They believe they know where the suspect is.

The entire team is reconvened back into the briefing room, and you're sat next to your partner, trying to avoid looking directly at anyone. You still have a lot of apologies to make, and so little time to do it. They had solved this quicker than you thought, and your heart races as you realize you may not be able to extend amends to the rest of the team in time.

Hotch delivers the profile and findings, and soon, a tactical team is sent out to retrieve the suspect. You and the rest of the BAU stay behind and watch the situation from the control room. Your heart thumps in your chest as you watch the agents break down the front door. Gunfire is exchanged and you grip the edge of the desk as you watch with wide eyes, worried about those on the front line.

But soon enough, they've got the suspect in cuffs and walk him out of the home. A sound of celebration fills the room, and you stare at the screen with a slack jaw, watching the subject you tried to track tirelessly being shoved into an armored car. Someone claps you on the back and makes you look away from the screen. Your partner smiles widely and holds his arms out for a celebratory hug.

He picks you up and spins you around before he puts you back on the ground. You smile at him as the two of you celebrate this win. After all, you two had been partnered together for a while now, and you don't know if you'll continue working with him as this mission moves into its next phase. As you turn back to watch the screen, you see Spencer leaving the room. Your smile falters and you debate whether or not you should follow him. But before you can even make a decision, Derek steps into your line of vision.

"Come out with us tonight, one last time." He smirks, and you're taken aback by the invitation. You figured the others would still be too angry with you to even want you there, but by the subtle hint of a smirk on Hotch's face, you begin to think that maybe they're not as angry as you think.

"Yeah, I'll be there." You smile, excited to spend one last night with your team.

-----

Hours later you find yourself in a crowded bar with your old team. You've elected to take a seat beside Derek, seeing as he's been the most forgiving. Penelope sits across from you, leaving one empty seat beside you. You can still feel some tension from them, but they seem to have loosened up a little.

The first round of drinks come and you start jumping into conversations here and there, and thankfully, nobody seems to mind. It almost feels like you never left, and this is just another night out after a win. However, there's one person missing that would make this night complete. But, he probably didn't want to come after finding out you were going to be here, and you don't blame him. It does make your heart sink a little though.

Round one turns to round two and three quickly, and you start feeling the effects of just a little too much tequila. While some of the others wander away for a bit, you scoot closer to JJ and Emily, taking this as your time to offer them amends. You get their attention and clear your throat, trying to put your words together in a coherent sentence.

"Before you all go, I just wanted to say how sorry I am for what I did. I miss you all more than you know, but I'm glad I got to see you again." The liquor makes your emotions feel like they're amplified, and you feel the burning of tears in your lower lash line. Emily and JJ both give you a sympathetic smile.

"We know, better than anyone here, how the CIA operates. We understand." Emily speaks for the both of them, and JJ agrees with her. Unable to keep yourself together, you envelope the two of them in a hug, knowing you're going to grieve the loss of them all over again in the morning.

After you let them go, you take a few steps backward, but run into someone.

"I am so sor-" Your words get caught in your throat as you look up and meet familiar hazel eyes. Spencer towers over you, his hand on your elbow to keep you from falling.

You don't know if it's your imagination, the liquor, or if it's real, the way he looks into your eyes. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he misses you too. But you know that surely can't be the case considering how you left him. He releases the grip he's got on your elbow and clears his throat.

"It's okay." He says, offering a flat-lined smile that seems to adorn his face quite often. And in that moment, it's almost like the rest of the bar disappears, that it's only the two of you in this room. You've got tunnel vision, only being able to focus on Spencer.

Taking in his appearance, he looks a lot better up close than he did across the room. You can see all the shades of green in his eyes, the different honey tones in his hair. You can even see the shadow of stubble that decorates his jawline. He looks just like your Spencer, just a little more grown up. Your heartrate increases and you know that if you don't take this opportunity, that you might never get it again. And so, without putting much thought into your words, you go for it.

"Spencer, can we um, can we go talk somewhere?" You ask, worried that he's going to turn you down. He licks his lips and looks around the bar and for a moment you truly think he's going to reject your offer.

"Sure." He answers instead and you nod your head in surprise.

You lead him outside of the bar, where the crisp wind cuts into you, leaving you feeling more breathless. You and Spencer walk a few feet away from the entrance and stop underneath a flickering street lamp. His features are illuminated beautifully in the soft amber glow. Unable to look at him directly as you speak, you stare at the sidewalk underneath your feet as you offer him the apology he deserves.

"Spencer, I can't even begin to tell you how much I regret what I did to you. It wasn't right, and you didn't deserve to be treated that way." Your voice cracks in the middle of your sentence. When he doesn't answer right away, you lift your gaze from the concrete to look at him, seeing him staring intensely at you, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrow.

"I was worried sick about you. I thought you left because of me up until a few days ago." He said and you can hear the anger that lies just beneath his words.

"I'm sorry." Is all you can say. Though you know it's insufficient, it's the only thing you can think of to say.

"And I tried to contact you so many times. You have no idea how much I've missed you." His anger turns to sadness, and you see the tip of his nose turn rosy pink, which causes your throat to constrict.

"They wouldn't let me tell anyone where I was going or when. I didn't know how restrictive this mission would be when I signed up. If I knew, I don't think I could've taken it." You admit to him.

Silence lingers between the two of you for a beat, both of you looking into the other's eyes, searching for the person they knew all those years ago. Searching for the familiarity and the comfort you had become so accustomed to, something that feels so distant and foreign now.

"But you did, and now you're gone." His voice is barely above a whisper, and you can't deny anything he's said.

"I know, and I'm sorry." You wipe your nose as you apologize again and shiver from the cold wind. Spencer's eyes look you over from head to toe before he sighs,

"Come with me." He offers his arm for you to take, which you happily do. You intertwine your arm with his, and walk down the street to wherever he's taking you.

The walk is silent and short. It's not long before the two of you walk into the hotel lobby, the one where they're staying you assume. It's a nice hotel, just a few blocks away from the bar. Spencer leads you to his room on the fifth floor and lets you into his room.

His suitcase sits on the foot of the bed, an extra pair of shoes by the door. The door clicks shut behind him and your stomach twists with nerves. Luckily the tequila helps a little with your anxiety, and you watch as Spencer takes off his shoes and moves his suitcase.

"Come over here." He invites you to sit next to him on the bed. You leave a respectful amount of space between the two of you. You're not sure why he brought you here, but you're happy he did. You've missed him so much, and you clench a hand into a fist to keep from reaching out to him.

He pushes a strand of hair behind his ear and sighs as he looks you over. Once again it makes your heart pound and your skin grow warm.

"I just need to know you didn't actually leave because of what we did. If you regret it, that's fine. I just, I need to know." He says with some desperation and you can tell he still blames himself for you leaving the team. You shake your head,

"No, Spencer. God, no. I've missed you every single day that I've been gone." You tell him, no longer able to keep yourself from reaching out. Your hand lands on his thigh, and he places his over yours and squeezes.

"Will you ever come back?" He asks, eyes wide and round, pleading. Your chest tightens, your heartstrings feel as if they're snapping. What you wouldn't give to just go back with him.

"The mission isn't over yet. I don't know when it will be, catching Barnes was only one step." You tell him, violating the terms of your clearance level. He nods, disappointed with your answer.

"It is the CIA after all, I don't know what I expected." He laughs bitterly, and in that moment you regret taking the job wholeheartedly.

"Please trust me when I say that when I can return to you, I will. I promise you, Spencer, I will find you again." You fight the tears that threaten to spill, and he raises his hand to wipe one away from the corner of your eye.

"I believe you." He whispers, and you nod, happy to know that he understands you don't want to go again.

You move your hand from his thigh up to his face, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. He leans into your touch, as if he'd been craving it since the day you left. His eyes flutter shut as he enjoys the feeling of your skin on his.

His hand moves across the covers of the bed and lands on your thigh, where his thumb strokes small circles. Spencer's touch is warm and comforting. You move closer to him, so that your legs are touching and there's not but a few inches of space between the two of you. He opens his eyes lazily and blinks a few times, his long, dark lashes complimenting his features well.

Your heart rate speeds up as his touch on you becomes firmer. You lick your lips and before you can talk yourself out of it, you pull him to you by the collar of his shirt. Your lips meet one another with a soft intensity. He cups your face and holds you close as you hang onto his shirt.

It's only when your lungs start burning do you pull away from each other. Lips glistening and swollen, everything seems to happen at once. Spencer pulls you into his lap, where his lips connect with your jaw, your head thrown back in pleasure. Your fingers tangle in his hair as his travels lower, planting kisses on your neck.

With a gentle touch, he lays you back on the bed where he runs his hands alongside your body, feeling every curve. You feel your face flush and mouth fall open as he tightly grips the soft skin of your hips. It's like he's a starved man and you're the oasis in the middle of a desert.

You pull him back to your face and connect your lips with his once more, not wanting to rush things, not this time. You savor the way he tastes and the way he caresses your body.

Your hands eventually run down his chest where they undo the buttons of his shirt, and he's quick to return the favor. His fingers undo the buttons of yours, but he seems to slow down and take his time. And once there's nothing between the two of you, he stares in awe, like you're a statue carved of marble.

"Spencer, please." You say, not being able to handle not having his hands on your body. He smiles, showing off his perfect teeth.

"Shh, be patient baby. You look so beautiful." He says before kneeling on the floor.

He kisses your ankle up to your knee, from your knee to your thigh, thigh to collarbone, before planting a passionate kiss on your lips. His hands travel to where you need him the most, and he works slowly but with care.

You're breathless under his touch and you try to commit to memory the way he feels, for you don't know if you'll ever be afforded this luxury again.

The two of you treat each other as if you're made of porcelain; gentle with your touches and kisses. You both savor each other's tender touches as you become one, looking into each other's eyes and communicating what you cannot with words.

You move in tandem with one another, as if you were made for each other. You swallow every moan that escapes his lips, wrapping your legs around him to bring him impossibly closer. In the soft light Spencer looks ethereal and you appreciate his beauty. Your hands cup his face and you know that you will never be able to find a beauty such as him. Everything about Spencer Reid is other-worldly, nothing of this Earth could even begin to compare. No light will ever shine as bright as the ones in his eyes, and no song could ever sound as good as the breathy moans he lets out in your ear. Nothing could ever feel as good as his hands on you, or the way he moves within you.

Nobody can ever compare to Spencer.

And as you spend the night with him, limbs tangled with one another's, you know nobody could possibly have your heart like he does.

But as the sun rises on the horizon, you know your time with him has come to a bitter end. With tears running down your cheeks, you kiss him on the forehead and push a piece of hair away from his face, wanting to see him just one more time.

As the first bird of the morning begins singing its song, you turn the handle of the door, sparing one last glance to Spencer, who looks ever so peaceful in bed. And only after you've committed the image to memory do you turn away and walk out of the room, vanishing into thin air once more.

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