#SM fanfic

[antivanruffles]

can I ask 💜 with Rei/Jadeite if you're in the mood?

💜 surprise kiss / impulsive kiss (5 years later I respond lol)

__________________________

"They're watching you, you know?"

"Who?" Lord Jadeite stopped midway with a canapé lifted to his mouth. Blue eyes darted covertly around the ball room, his elaborate masquerade mask doing little to diminish the bright color, or the mischief shining in them. He popped the bite into his mouth. "The guards?"

"No, the courtiers; the tittering ladies." She lifted a hand to her mouth and batted her lashes demurely at him. Her own mask was little more than a lace covering that matched her ruby dress. There was no point in hiding behind something too ostentatious, everyone knew the Princess of Mars when they saw her.

"Should I be flattered or worried?" he asked lightly, reaching past her to snag a glass of sparkling Jovian wine from a passing tray. He leaned in distractingly close, enough for her to feel the warmth radiating off him and smell the clean scent of his cologne. He drew back slowly with the glass in hand, and took a slow sip.

"Flattered, for sure. The ladies of Queen Selenty's court are notoriously hard to please. It's near impossible to catch their fancy."

"Hm," he hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose that goes double for the princesses of the court then?"

"Without doubt." She gave him a coquettish smile. "The princesses are renowned for their discerning eye and stringent tastes. Truly, it would take someone quite remarkable to gain their attention."

"Well, I shall let you know if I find anyone worthy enough to garner their favor." He drained his glass and sat it aside. "In the meantime perhaps I should go entertain the tittering young ladies who seem so enamored? A dance or two should appease them, don't you think?"

He moved in close once again, crowding her space as he bent his head close to her ear. "Unless I might be otherwise engaged?"

"I can't imagine why you would be?" was her flippant reply. She attempted to affect a relaxed air she didn't quite possess at the moment.

"In that case, off I go." He straightened up and winked at her, then he turned, seemingly intent on leaving her alone. It appeared she was going to lose the game this time.

"Oh, damn you, anyway." She reached out to grab his hand, giving a firm yank to bring him back close to her.

She positioned herself against him, heedless of the layers and frills of her dress, and reached up with her free hand to cup his jaw. Rocking onto her tiptoes she kissed him soundly.

He responded immediately, arms moving to circle her slim waist and pull her impossibly closer. His lips slanted over her and stole her breath away.

When they eventually separated to regain their breath, they remained close enough for her to feel his heart beating against her breastbone. He bent his head and rested his forehead against hers, his panting breathes fanning across her mouth.

"I guess this means I'm otherwise indisposed for the evening?"

"I would say so."

He nodded gently, his bangs tickling against her forehead with the movement. "Good."

She grinned. "Good," she said before pulling him in for another kiss.

#rainbow kisses meme #senshi x shitennou #mars x jadeite #rei x jadeite #sm fanfic #prompt fills #sailor moon #rei hino #jadeite

[sparklezoi]

A ficlet I wrote for @smvillainsweek Day 4: Origin/Reincarnation

#smvillainsweek23 #Day 4 #origin/reincarnation #zoisite #shitennou #writing #yagific #sm fanfic #sailor moon fanfiction

[headintheclouds-posts]

Heh I’m the one that suggested the trix one a little bit ago. Could you write some smut for him? Whatever you like. Thank you

Hello sweetie, of course ❤️ it’s just a little drabble but I hope you like it

Smutty

He’s pushing deep inside you whilst his thumb is swirling against your clit. His eyes are staring at your exposed mounds bouncing beneath him, causing him to catch his bottom lip in his teeth and exhale loudly. ‘You’re so hot baby’ he hisses between thrusts. Dating a professional krumper definitely had its good points as each movement of his hips is fierce and hard causing load moans to escape your mouth and your toes to curl. You nudge your legs further open to let him get deeper as your back slowly arches off the mattress in pleasure. Trix continued to pound into you as your eyes roll back into your head and a knot starts to build in your stomach. You know you’re going to loose yourself in him at any given moment and the anticipation is causing your legs to shake around him. ‘I’m about to….’ You scream unable to finish your sentence as your body hits its peak causing you to tremble beneath him uncontrollably, he follows soon after calling your name under bated breath. ‘You’re amazing’ he whispers pulling you close to him and pressing a sweet kiss against your forehead before you both fall asleep in each other’s arms.

#smf b2b #smf bank two brothers #smf ygx #smf just jerk #smf prime kingz #smf scenarios #smf imagine #smf #sm fanfic #smf trix #smf smut #prime kingz trix #prime kingz

[it-is-i-that-witch]

Velseb Family Values

Chapter 2: Something New, Something Used

TEN MONTHS LATER

“What about this one?”

Bob glanced over his shoulder, squinting at Teresa’s phone. “Hmm… not too sure. It doesn’t have very good reviews.”

Teresa rolled her eyes. “What other people think isn’t everything. I’m asking if you like it.”

“Sweet pea, if it makes you happy, then I’m fine with whatever you pick. I’ve never imagined myself getting married, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed. Ideally I’d handle everything myself, but that isn’t fair to you. You took tomorrow off for your fitting, right?”

“Of course.”

“Good. And I have mine next week. Don’t forget.”

She turned and walked upstairs. Bob put the spatula down and sighed to himself. He hadn’t ever expected to be planning a wedding, much less his own, and he had certainly not thought about how exhausting it would be. This week it had been all about wedding venues, last week was about outfits, and this upcoming week would be invitations. He felt so tempted to tell Teresa to just take care of it, like she’d wanted, but he didn’t want to be rude to his wife-to-be.

Teresa, his ray of sunshine. She made all this stress worth it. He would’ve gladly flown to Mars and back for Teresa. He’d climb Mount Everest for her, even. Getting through wedding planning was a trifle compared to those things.

But if that were true, why was it so hard?

He resumed cooking, trying to forget the stress of wedding planning for the moment. He could tell Teresa was stressed too, but she was certainly holding herself together much better than he. That was one of the many things he admired about Teresa.

Something else came to mind. He’d never envisioned himself getting married, nor had he ever thought about a future beyond fast food. He was still reeling from the fact that a bombshell like Teresa would even be interested in a guy like him. He was in his thirties, working a dead end job and he had never thought of himself as particularly attractive. But now that it was in front of his face, he couldn’t ignore it - what was he planning to do now? Surely things would change after the wedding, and that was something he was nowhere near prepared for.

Teresa returned to the table, taking her seat gracefully and waiting for him to serve dinner. That was another thing Bob didn’t understand - shouldn’t such a sophisticated woman be with someone more of her status? Whatever that would be, he certainly wasn’t it.

And yet… here he was, and here was Teresa.

He kept his head down as he ate, but of course nothing escaped Teresa’s watchful eyes. “Something wrong?”

For some reason, something told Bob that telling Teresa about his earlier reflection was a bad idea. He wasn’t sure why, but he decided to follow that instinct. “It ain’t nothin’. I’m tired.”

Teresa raised an eyebrow, but after a few moments of silence, she seemed to accept that that was the only answer she was getting. They finished the meal in silence.

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

The previous seven months of stress were over, and had given life to the most beautiful ceremony Bob had ever witnessed. There he stood, before a small crowd consisting mostly of Teresa’s friends, with his coworkers all in the front row. White rose petals fluttered in the breeze, and the sunshine filtered through the transparent curtains at the altar cast a hazy glow over the space, giving the wedding a very fairytale-esque air.

The doors at the edge of the garden opened, and out came Teresa, accompanied by her father. She wore a fanciful gown with a sweetheart neckline and gauzy sleeves, and her veil was held in place by a glittering tiara. And just when Bob thought she couldn’t ever look any more stunning.

Of course, the bride commanded everyone’s attention - including the groom - simply by existing. Despite the fact that the shoes she’d chosen were six-inch heels, she didn’t even stumble. She walked calmly, with graceful, even strides. As Bob stood there, awaiting his wife-to-be, he questioned what he’d been so frustrated about. All of that had allowed this perfect day to happen, and he couldn’t be happier.

Teresa finally stepped up to the altar, smiling at Bob through her veil. The priest gave a speech about love and sacrifice, most of which Bob missed because his only focus was on his bride. It appeared Teresa did the same.

The priest finished his speech and continued, “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union between Teresa and Bob. Bob, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Bob’s smile was bright enough to light up a room. “I do.”

“And, Teresa, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.” Even though her face wasn’t entirely visible, anyone could hear the authenticity in her voice.

“Very well. I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

Bob reached out, carefully removing the veil from Teresa’s face. Her eyes were as bright as stars. They slowly leaned together, eyes locked, shutting out everything else but each other’s smiling faces… and kissed.

The audience applauded and cheered as the newlyweds waved, the entire garden filled with excitement over the event and joy for the happy couple.

If only they’d truly been as happy as they appeared...

#spooky month #bob velseb #velseb family values #spooky month fanfic #sm fanfic

[opluffys]

-

-

-nsfw/smut-

face buried deep into the pillow, all of your sounds muffled by the material, you dared to utter a simple and incomplete sentence.

"s'too much,"

either he ignored you, or didn't hear you- honestly, you had no clue, but it was probably the former. you lost track of time as he continued to bully his cock into your cunt. and, you couldn't do it, you couldn't take him because he's always so fucking big.

"yeah? and you'll keep takin' it all."

he's so fucking mean it's not even fair, you can't even complain because he's filling all of your senses with white hot pleasure. your brain began to turn to mush as his dick stretched out your pussy, hands fisting into the sheets as you pressed yourself deeper into the pillow. his pillow. it smells like him, fuck, he's everywhere and you can't handle it.

ghost's fucking you well-past tears, past the point of begging, he's stressed- and what else could you do but offer yourself to him? you'd been more than happy that he agreed to such a thing, nearly pushing you into the bedroom.

you can't take back a gift, though.

"not gonna fit, simon," you whimpered, barely even able to catch your breath as you whispered to him, tears dampening the pillowcase.

he shushed you by pushing your head back into the mattress. his hands grasp at the fat of your hips now harder as he continued to feed his cock into you, his being mesmerised as he watched your smaller body desperately try and accommodate his size and girth. he had gentler moments, but he knew that you liked it rough, liked him, rough.

"i'll fucking make it fit." to emphasise his words, he gave a particularly rough thrust, finally allowing himself to bottom out inside of your warmth. he groaned lowly at feeling you squeeze him with a vice-like grip, hearing you give a weak moan back to him.

"see? see, love?" he snuck his hand underneath you and pressed down on your stomach, hearing and watching you gasp and twitch. "there we go, can feel me right there, can't you?"

you wanted to tell him yes, to affirm every single thing he would say to you. but you couldn't. all you could do was rock back and forth from the harsh movements that he performed. so, you settled with a nod.

"simon-" again, you tried to tell him that it his size was filling you to the fucking brim, making you see stars, making you feel so good, too good. it was red hot, you could feel every single prominent vein drag against your soft and wet walls before he slammed back into you- obscene and lewd noises filling the room. you wanted to cry, sob and ask him how he always fucked you so good, how he knew every single place to touch you and every single place to avoid.

"shh, just, fuckin' take me, yeah?"

yeah, he didn't need to tell you again.

#fanfic #smut #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod smut #cod x reader #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #thanks for 4k notes!! :) #7k notes WHAT?!?!?! thank you all sm!!

[chosopie]

PART 2, CONQUERER - RYOMEN SUKUNA

RECAP: After Sukuna invades your nation and kills the man you were betrothed to, he decides to take you as his queen. You comply to his requests to keep your little brother Yuji safe.

SUMMARY: You had just been wedded to Sukuna, and now it was time for your mating ceremony.

cw: battle for dominance, oral sex (f receiving), doggy, hair pulling, riding, slight choking, breeding, reader is inspired by helen of troy

: ̗̀➛ part 1

The ballroom in the heart of your palace remained lively with people dancing, singing, and eating heartily. Lots of women would wear outrageously flashy or expensive dresses that would, in their hopes, catch the new King’s eyes. They did not know Sukuna, for he would not even bat an eye at those kind of women. He has come so far to defeat every neighboring nation just to get to yours. He brought death and destruction with his footsteps, and let war sit on the right side of his shoulder just so he could have you in his hands, the woman kings and noblemen from every nation sought after. Your beauty was like no other in the world—so captivating that men would wage wars against each other to have your delicate hand. Your previous fiancé did just that, and quickly failed when Sukuna came lurking behind his careless back.

Tonight, you had just hosted the largest banquet anyone has ever seen. Such a lavish event is fitting for the union of the most beautiful woman in the world and the greatest conquerer man has ever seen. Sukuna patiently waited for you in his quarters, his muscular and broad body covered in a black silk robe with gold embroidery. On the other hand, your handmaidens were bathing you in soaps and fragrances that were made with the finest and rarest materials people can only dream of getting their hands on, yet here they were, being used to bathe your soft body. The girls patted you dry with a big and fluffy towel, then helped you slip onto your sheer nude lingerie that had diamonds around your chest, making your skin glisten in the warm lights. On top of that, you draped a large white silky robe over your body, the cool fabric sending a shiver down your spine.

You passed through the thin curtains and Sukuna was sat on the bed, waiting for you. He looked up, eyes immediately locked on your figure that was barely covered by your garments. He couldn’t help but envision your fully naked body, but he quickly shook those thoughts away upon realization that in a few seconds, he would be able to feast on your bare body. It would be all his.

“Come, woman,” Sukuna gestured you to move closer to him with his pointer finger.

You scoffed. “I have a name. Did you not know?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re going to forget your name after tonight,” he smirked.

“I’d like to see you try,” you slid off your robe, exposing your body that was barely covered by the lingerie. Sukuna’s eye’s wandered on your chest and down to your plump hips and thighs. You walked towards him, his eyes remained fix on your body as he watched each and every movement you made.

Sukuna looked up at you, his hands stroking your sides and tracing every curve. His touch was warm and it made you burn with excitement. This man was capable of making you feel so much. You could fear him, and at the same time lust over the fact that he could destroy anything within an arm’s length. The power in his hands made you tremble with arousal.

It made you wonder whether you were doing all this just to protect whatever remained of your nation and your baby brother or if you were just as power-hungry as the greedy conquerer beneath you.

You pushed his hands away and slowly took off your lingerie while holding eye contact with him. There was an intense warmth that radiated off his body. You lifted up your arms to cup his face and push it towards the heat of your pussy. To your surprise, he didn’t protest. Instead, he put his hands on your hips for support while he buried his face into your cunt, his hot tongue lapping at your wet folds. You legs shivered and the pacing of your breath quickened.

“Sukuna,” you moaned, and he suddenly stopped. He moved back, but his face remained close to your wetness.

“Call me Ryomen,” he lowly said, before resuming his work.

His mouth was skilled in its work. He repeatedly licked and would occasionally bite on your clit, sending a wave of pleasure to wash over your body. It felt like electricity, the way the heat and arousal would travel up to your body with sparks. While he sucked hardly on your clit, he covered his fingers in your slick, then pushed them inside you. You gasped, your fingers tangled in his locks of hair. You moaned and writhed, pushing his head closer to you. At this point, your thighs were suffocating Ryomen, preventing him from breathing, but he didn’t care; his mind was solely focused on making you cum.

“Ryo,” you tried saying, the word smoothly rolling off your tongue. “I’m close.”

Ryomen felt his blood rushing. Most people who dared to speak of his first name would often say it with such fear for their lives, but the way your voice spoke his name made it sound so sweet like nectar was dripping from the tip of your tongue. He groaned against your pussy, the vibration making you hiss. His fingers kept thrusting and curling inside of you in such a fast pace that caught your breath. The pads of his fingers were rubbing your sweet spot while his tongue continued to play with your throbbing clit. The pleasure started to build up and you could feel it on your lower abdomen. You let out a moan before releasing yourself, your fluids coating his fingers and chin.

Your husband stood up and took his robe off, revealing his toned chest, abdomen, the big scar that ran in a straight line from his chest to stomach, and his lengthy cock. He grabbed your hand and placed it right on the scar, letting you trace it with your fingers along with the intricate muscles on his abdomen.

“See what you did? No one has ever been able to get this close to me.” He whispered.

“I know,” you smirked.

“Don’t get too cocky now, girl.” Ryomen warned.

“Me? Cocky?” He grabbed both of your arms and pushed you onto the bed. He held your arms behind your back, firmly holding them in place.

“Fuck you,” you muttered, but Ryomen didn’t hear because your face was pressed onto the sheets of your bed, muffling your voice.

“Arch your back for me,” he said into your ear, his chest pressed against your back.

Your face grew hot. Complying with his request, you arched you back and pushed yourself onto him, the wet head of his cock tapping your ass. Ryomen groaned at the sensation and slapped your ass. It didn’t hurt much, but it stung in a way that only got you more horny. He parted your legs and rubbed his dick on your folds, lubing it with your juices.

He was way too big.

This was going to be your first time and you weren’t sure if you could even take him. With his length and girth, it might end up hurting you. You propped yourself up and turned to look at him from the corner of your eye.

“It’s my first time,” you panted.

“Good,” Ryomen smiled. “Be honored. You’re my first as well. I’ll make sure you can handle it.”

That was the first time you’ve seen him genuinely smile. “That’s a surprise.”

“It is the culture of my homeland.”

Ryomen tightly held onto the soft flesh your hips, slowly pushing his dick in you. He starts thrusting with only half of his dick inside, but you already felt so full. His cock is so gritty is rubs every spot in your walls. Your pussy tightly clamps onto him, making his breath quiver. “You’re so tight,” he breathed.

It takes everything in Ryomen to not just thrust into you at full speed. He had to be careful with you, but every instinct in him is telling him otherwise. The sound of your pussy squelching on his length and the way both your fluids were dripping down your labia was driving him crazy. His mind was in a frenzy and his hands grew hot as he continued to feel up your ass.

“Too much,” you whined. “You’re too big.”

“If that was the case, why is your tight greedy pussy pulling me in,” Ryomen lightly chucked as he watched your pussy swallow his dick. The whole of him now buried deep inside you, making a small bulge on your stomach. His hand reached for your hair and tugged on it so you could face him. “Look how well your pussy is taking me.”

Your eyes were watery, not a single thought present behind them. Your mind was trapped in a haze of lust. All you could feel was the big surge of pleasure that came with each thrust. Beads of sweat dripped from your forehead and your back.

“Faster, Ryomen.” You dared to say.

“Finally. You can’t take that back anymore, alright?”

With no hesitation, Ryomen started thrusting into you hard and fast, causing your body to rock back and forth, your tits bouncing with you. He cupped your breasts, squeezing and kneading on them like dough. You could feel his dick twitching, eager to release its seed and paint the walls of your cunt white. He started panting and groaning, the pace of his thrusts getting sloppy and desperate. You could feel another orgasm following through, the tight feeling making your pussy spasm around his cock. A string of moans left your mouth as you allowed yourself to cum all over his dick, your insides tightening then letting go, milking his dick as he came with you. He looked at your shaking figure that glistened with sweat under the lights of the room. He groaned your name and laid his head on your shoulder, inhaling your intoxicating scent.

The two of you stared at each other with lust-struck eyes. He was sweating and panting, his cheeks lightly tinted red. With his right hand, he grabbed your neck and pulled you towards him for a messy and passionate kiss. Your tongues danced with each other, eagerly fighting for dominance while the mixture of your spit dribbled down your chin. He lightly squeezed your neck and you moaned into the kiss. You placed your hands on his shoulders and pulled him on to the bed. Your hands remained on his shoulders as you got into a comfortable position to straddle him. He cocked an eyebrow at you, amusement painted his face as he watched with intent.

Lowering yourself on Ryomen, you felt his cock slowly stretch you out again, easily sliding in because of how his cum had filled your walls. You repeatedly bounced on his dick, the tip hitting your sweet spot more effectively. Both your moans filled the room’s quiet atmosphere. Your grip on his shoulders tightened as the warm and hot sensation took over your body once more, your nails digging into his skin, surely leaving marks. There it was again, his cocky smile showing on his face at the sight of you using his dick to get off. It was pathetic to see you try and dominate him in this position, but you just looked like a desperate bitch in heat. He would have never expected you to be so needy for him, after you had put so much effort to convince him with your little facade that you were so angry that he had forcefully taken you as his wife. Deep down, he knew that you had been waiting for this.

Quickly enough, your legs grew tired, but you didn’t want to stop—you were getting close again and you didn’t want to lose the momentum. He notices the way your chest heaved and how your legs trembled from exhaustion. He wraps his arms around your waist, and pushed your body onto his dick, then lifted you up again. This went on, and he was doing all the work again, moving your body up and down with ease while he thrusted into you in sync.

“What a pathetic attempt,” Ryomen laughed. You opened your mouth to say a remark, but the only thing that you could muster up were more moans.

“Did I fuck the brains out of you already? Tell me who you are.”

All you could muster up was a pathetic whine. He was right and you hated it. How could someone inexperienced make you instantly forget your own name with his cock?

“See,” Ryomen triumphantly smiled, baring his teeth. “I fucking told you.”

: ̗̀➛ part 3

#rev.writes #thank u sm for 200 followers!!!!! #ryomen sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #sukuna smut #jjk smut #ryomen sukuna smut

[theeveninghour]

All My Dreaming

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

Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader

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

WC: 16.1k  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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

Part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[h0ttestgrlinm0urgu3]

𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔶 𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔟𝔬𝔴

𝖍𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

summary [henry let's you play with bows and you get carried away]

warnings [smut, mouth stuff🎀, bimbo~ish ig, no p in v, pet names, soft dom henry🎀]

being the type of girl you were you loved ribbons and bows. they weren't something you indulged in often as a child, growing up in the country and all, but once you got older you feel in love with them.

you'd put them everywhere, in your hair, on your clothes, there's even some on your walls and others tied around stuffed bears.

Henry had recently gotten you these really cute ribbon bow clips and you were currently sitting beside him putting them in his hair. he's not really paying attention to you, he's used to this kind of treatment and just sat scrolling on his phone. you dropped one of the clips from his hair and in to his lap. as you go to reach for it a thought flashes in your mind. 'can I put a bow on your dick?' you ask your boyfriend after retrieving the clip.

you see the way henry freezes and hurriedly say 'not these, like ribbon' you clear up. he lets out a breath and laugh before looking at you 'I was scared for a sec baby' he says tucking a peice of hair behind your ear making you smile. he returns your smile and leans in for a kiss. 'of course I'll let my pretty girl dress me up' henry says sitting back up with the clips still in his hair.

so excited you jump up and let out a squeal 'omg yay' you scream about to go into you and Henry's shared room for some ribbon. turning to him before you go saying 'don't get hard' which earns you an eye roll as you leave 'you wanna do it or not' he mumbles as your walking but you hear.

in the room your trying to figure out what color ribbon you wanted. you got it down to pink and purple, so you bring them out to henry. 'which one do you want?' you question, you sit beside him on the couch, getting comfortable with your upper half mostly on his lap. 'whatever matches my hair' he says as he scrolls through something.

you go with the pink since he had pink in his hair. unzipping his jeans and pulling his cock out your really happy to see the he wasn't hard. it might sound odd but you liked playing with his soft cock. cutting the ribbon to length before throwing everything on to the floor. you start to tie the ribbon at the base of his dick, humming to yourself as henry continued on his phone, you could care less.

looking down at the pretty pink bow you made your so proud in your self. you let out a giggle in excitement and notice the way Henry's cock twitched when you laughed. your mouth begin to water. trying something else you lightly blow making it twitch again.

you mouth became the ocean and you desperatly needed to taste him. opening your mouth and letting droll drip onto the head of his cock before lowering your head and licking it up. 'ohh fuck baby' henry moans out at the unexpected pleasure, finally placing his attention on you.

you take the tip of this cock in your mouth savering the taste of him. opening your mouth wider you take his full soft length in. feeling the bow brush against your lips. feeling him swell you come up for air letting out a little whine at the fact that this is the first time he's ever fully fit in your mouth, and it's because hes never let you suck it soft. and it's not gonna last much longer, but you'll enjoy having him in your mouth either way.

looking up to meet his gaze he grips your jaw and squeezes your cheecks together. sticking out your tounge he roughly brings you up for a sloppy kiss, gripping the back of your scalp. he breaks the kiss to leave kisses all over your face before letting you go back down to his cock, which is now fully hard.

bow intact.

you lick from the base to the tip repetadly. bringing your focus more to the head of his cock you bring one hand to the base and the other to his balls. 'fuck baby you know daddy likes that' he moans out as his hips buck forcing the tip of his cock all the way into your mouth. you gag a little before you adjust to it returning to your pace.

henry looks down to the ungodly display infornt of him. you desperatly sucking his cock, pretty hands playing with his balls with a pretty pink ribbon rapped around his cock, your eyes are watery, the floor beneath you full of droll and pre cum. your looking up to him eyes glossed over moaning every so often telling him just how much you love his cock.

'ahh- fuckk, baby im gonna cum' he moaned out. forcing the rest of his cock into your moth and down your throat henry couldn't hold back any longer. his cum being forced down your throat and falling from the sides of your mouth around his cock getting your bow all dirty. removing him from your mouth with a giggle and a smile so happy that you grew into loving bows.

[a/n: this randomly came to me and I wrote it right away so if it's bad blame it on that. 🎀]

#henry cavill #clark kent #bimbo reader #black fanfic writer #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x black reader #x black fem reader #clark kent x reader #henry cavill smut #bd/sm kink #bd/sm daddy #smut #clark kent smut #coquette #girlblogging #daddy's good girl

[obsob]

happy and proud!!

✷(print shop)✷

#mine #original #sm how managed 2 miss pride month....but its pride month every month in this house hold #ive read two bad YA books so far this month as a break from th 2nd farseer book but now.....i am back.........i am reading th 3rd one #its gna make my brain explode i can feel it #n then idk what i will read. maybe th hands of th emperor #could i read smth other than 800 page epic fantasy pls #the YA books werent too bad for YA but they hve that YA cringe 2 it. idk how u people read it constantly #if i hve 2 read th word 'heck' one more time #also theres always like. disney channel vibes. like i read gay YA romance n its so sanitised n vanilla. its so superficial #like i get this is for 16 year olds but were is the longing. the yearing. these guys are fanfic tropes stuck 2gether 2 glue. #also. what is with nearly every mlm romance / fantasy being YA not adult fiction. whats up w that #anyway hve a good evenin im gna do knitting!!!!!!!!!!!!

[jkslipppiercing]

Never Been A Friend | Part 1 | Jeon Jk

♧ synopsis: Sneaky glances across the room weighed with a dozen different meanings left to be unsaid; confusion, desire, lust. He was never a friend, was he?

♧ pairing: brother's bsf!jk, bratty!reader.

♧ warnings: y/n is too drunk to form a sentence, jungkook loves cursing, jungkook is jealous out of his mind, kinda enemies but not really, jungkook calls y/n a brat that he cant stand, someone calls y/n a slut, and that's all i can remember 😙

♧ WC: 1.6K

♧ a/n: hello loves! wrote this in one sitting and it's barely edited, but the intention is there lmao i love you all so much please enjoy! dont hesitate to tell me what you think <3 im like the no.1 supporter for constructive criticism lol okay thank you byeeeee

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JK's POV

She whines,

Throws tantrums,

Acts like a goddamn brat for the sake of being annoying,

And I still want her lips around my cock.

Why?

That goes beyond the fucking level of my emotional understanding.

I want her wrapped around my finger. I want her to get on her fucking knees and apologize for all the turbulent feelings she makes me suffer by.

She ruined my night.

I was fucking.

Blowing a girl's back just to lay off some steam. Get the stress of the college life off my shoulders.

But then, she just had to cock-block me.

My best friend’s sister.

Speaking of the twat, he dared to interrupt my one night stand for the sake of his bratty sister.

Usually, I love brats.

My type.

They make sex enjoyable. All the more pleasurable when they try to resist.

Keyword: try.

Because I know for a damn straight fact when a girl wants to be disciplined.

Fucked right and put in her place.

Reminds me of her. Y/L/N Y/N.

Except for one thing, though- she makes my fucking insides churn in all uncomfortable ways.

She doesn’t have a bratty attitude, the bitch has a bratty personality.

Yes, she is indeed a bitch. I can't stand a girl who's always annoying just because she feels like it. She'd never had a valid reason to hate me, and neither did I.

When I first met her, I mean.

She was laughing with her brother having breakfast one time when I came out of my room for painkillers and a glass of water.

Her brother and I were both freshmen in need of a dorm, and we agreed on splitting the rent once in a frat party.

Yes... we were both strangers to each other, but we clicked.

Met through mutuals, and our vibes matched. After living with each other for over six months now, we've grown pretty close.

He's cool, agreed on basic rules like who does the laundry or dishes, helped with assignments, and was always there when needed.

He's a friend. A close one.

A tolerable one.

That can't be said about a certain someone, though.

She scowled at me that day and later told me she didn't like my vibe when I confronted her about it.

Bullshit.

And yet, she's the reason I left a naked girl in my bed and came to this godforsaken club in the first place.

Her brother is here, too, which is why he called me to come pick her up. Said something about her being drunk, and since he had taken a shot or two as well, he couldn't take her home himself.

Or he just didn't want to, because he was also getting laid tonight.

That's proven to be right when I see him making out with a girl near the bathrooms.

His hands grope her all over as she arches into him, which is enough to make me look away.

Sly motherfucker.

Casting my vision toward the main dance floor, I scan the crowd for a short brunette with soft features.

Annoyingly soft features.

So soft that I want to corrupt her. Tear the bratty exterior and dig through the filthy dark side on the inside.

But those features aren't the only things that infuriate the hell out of me.

It's her innocence.

How can a brat be innocent, you may ask?

When my gaze lands on her, my jaw tenses in annoyance.

She sways her hips sensually, eyes closed and mouth open as she slides her hands down her body to a seductive beat following her movements.

I follow the action, eyes unable to tear away from her figure.

Her fingers skim over her neck down to her breasts and then further, the lightness she seems to be handling her body with attending to a grace she always breathed by.

Fuck, I hate this woman.

Hate everything about her.

How she moves.

How she walks.

How she fucking talks.

Runs her mouth like a brat who needs to be handled.

No- not like- is.

She is a brat.

A brat who's oblivious to all the eyes she's attracting.

Including mine.

Fuck.

Her dancing resumes as her eyes stay closed, feeling every beat.

She's enjoying herself.

Not for long.

I school my expression- which had turned into a scowl the moment I set my eyes on her- and begin my stride towards her.

I spot a man doing the same, but she's absolutely mind-numb as she continues to dance with her damn eyes closed.

I was irritated, but now I'm literally fed up.

He's a couple inches shorter than me, wearing a white tee and skinny ripped jeans.

Not to mention, his hair is slicked back by a disgusting amount of hair gel.

Ew.

He approaches Y/N with predatory eyes and a shit eating grin, his gaze set straight on her perky ass.

Which is just barely covered by the tight little dress she's wearing, inching higher and higher up her thighs as we speak.

My steps quicken when I see him reach out, apparently intending to slap her ass.

My blood boils.

White noise drowns out all available access to the outside world as I break out into a jog and reach her just in time.

My hand swiftly slides onto her tiny waist, and I glare at the man whose shit-eating grin is now gone, replaced with confusion.

Y/N's eyes stay closed as she giggles, and it's now I notice how drunk she is.

Bright crimson tints her cheeks and her breath smells of strong tequila, obviously from having taken too many shots.

Isn't she here with friends?

How could they leave her alone like this?

Her brother's here. Her brother is here.

My breath turns heavy, my heartbeat quickening. I have to stop myself from punching the douchebag in front of me into fucking oblivion because I don't know if i'll ever stop once I start.

Fuck.

I try to focus on anything besides her frame that's barely hanging onto me, all the exhaustion from her dancing catching up to her as she fights to keep her eyes open.

Why the fuck is she here all alone? Why did they- whoever she's here with, except her brother- leave her here like this?

Like she's not even aware of where she is.

Like she's not sober enough to be responsible.

Like she's not fucking strong enough to defend herself if anything happened to her.

I might punch a wall.

My grip tightens around her waist, which makes her drowsily lift her head to stare up at me.

She's still shorter than me with heels on, enough to put her neck in an uncomfortable position whenever she looks up at me.

It's adorable.

But that's none of my concerns as the slimy fuck keeps undressing her with his eyes. Makes me want to claw them out with my bare hands.

Repress.

"Wha..." She starts, growing more and more confused as she tries to wrap her head around where the hell she is. "Jungkook? What are you..."

She trails off into a mindfuck, allowing me to set my full focus on the man still staring between us with wariness.

My gaze hasn't worn off him since I saw him fucking reach for her ass, which makes me want to bash his head against the wall.

My breathing turns heavy again.

Repress.

"Off-limits." I bite out with enough to control to shock myself. I'm even more surprised that this motherfucker is still breathing.

His eyes thin into slits as he eyes me suspiciously. "I haven't seen you here the last couple of hours. Thought her sexy ass came alone." His eyes skim over her body, gaze lingering longer than necessary on her breasts.

Guess someone's leaving with no limbs tonight.

"You thought wrong." It takes almost all the last bits of my control to reply with that before I start turning around to leave, Y/N almost falling asleep on my arm.

She clutches the hem of my shirt with a weak grip, like a toddler would its mom.

If I couldn't get here in time, what would've happened?

I catch myself before I overthink it. If I did, I'm afraid I might commit a crime tonight. One of shameless blood and murder-

Repress.

My back is turned to him when I hear a low whistle, which makes me pause, angry enough for my limbs to shake with adrenaline.

"You know, It's often rare for a slut with such a sweet ass to be out here all alone wearing that. Almost like she's begging for a cock-"

The words are barely out of his mouth before my fist connects with his face. The force of my blow got him on the floor, nose fucked and bleeding. Might be broken.

Good. Bare minimum.

I almost straddle him and punch him to his fucking fortunate death.

Almost.

But I have to get Y/N home.

I can't stand this anymore.

I can't stand her anymore.

Coming here alone? Dressed like that?

I mean yes, she did come here with her idiot brother who thinks with his dick, but he's nowhere to be found.

How can someone be so nonchalant to just leave his sister here all alone?

I'm so goddamn confused.

And infuriated.

And...angry.

Fucking fuck.

I need to get her the fuck out of here before i lose my fucking mind.

Fuck me.

The punch I just delivered did little to satiate my thirst for this slimy fucker's blood.

But again, Y/N's more important.

I turn, my panic spiking so high it reaches levels it had never before when I find Y/N out of my sight.

My breathing starts to go abnormal for the nth time this night.

I might develop heart problems.

A sigh leaves my mouth when I spot her by the bars, trying to convince the bartender to give her another shot. Relief floods my system, and my breaths regulate.

I send a quick text the girl- who i already forgot the name of- and tell her to head home. She sends a crying emoji back but agrees nonetheless, telling me to call her back when everything is sorted out on my end.

I have other things to care for.

Or I guess, in this case, a certain person to tend to.

God, It's gonna be a long night.

@hoseokteardrop @nochuel @kaitieskidmore97 @nays2112 @jksoftii @yu-justme @meadow-in-spring @bunnykoos @looneybleus @fushigurosdarling @alpha-mommy69 @junecat18 @xjiminsthighsx @tanniesdolls @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @whoa-jo @ahgasegotarmy116 @jksusawife @frgetmenotes @baechugff @partyparty-yah @army130613210521 @drugerlime @allisonstone @hopekive @llallaaa @tarahardcore @hopetookmysoul @betysotelo18 @harmonic55 @ecrvea @awesomebabyyoda @peterstarkchrishiddleston @pinkrockstar19 @sweetestseoul @luv--youu @mochminnie @coletaehyung @whitelies2248-blog @ash07128 @bangtans-momma @yourbobaeyestell

next

did you like it 👀

@laylasbunbunny @btsnpniff @olimpiiaa @caro134340lina @ohsweetmimosa @lovingkoalaface @httpjeonlicious @t-alyssa-vvv-blog

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts fanfiction #jungkook ff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #e2l #kinda enemies to lovers lmao #idk if this is a series #jealous jk #jealous jungkook #brothers best friend #brother's best friend #jungkook jeon #jeon jk #yeah idk what else #love you guys sm #ugh #okay #bye #i love you

[antivanruffles]

Pairing: Rei/Jadeite

Rating: T, suggestive themes and swearing

Summary: A terse encounter with Raye's father leaves Jonah and Raye in a new, albeit familiar, situation.

A/N: Started this for the Sen/Shi discord prompt table, but had another idea for a connected series. Now it's just Raye and Jonah's epilogue.

___________________

“Absolutely not.”

“Why? It’s a great idea!” 

Raye had to fight a giggle -- an actual, godforsaken giggle, what was the world coming to? -- at Jonah's indigence even as he kept his mouth practically glued to her throat. 

They were in a very precarious position, truth be told, making out in her office like a pair of horny teenagers. Despite having drafted up the proper paperwork with Molly in HR as soon as things turned real between them, and despite being nothing but professional around their colleagues since then, the last thing they needed was someone walking in on them.

Or worse yet find them banging in her bathroom, as Jonah had so charmingly suggested. Granted he had been slightly more careful with his wording, but the sentiment remained the same. Especially with his lips sucking a red mark against her collarbone, and his hand diving under the hem of her shirt to seek out bare skin. 

"We both know my father is looking for any excuse to have you fired. Pretty sure sexing up his daughter during office hours would do nicely on the termination papers."

"Westerberg would have an aneurysm if your dad fired me, and as much of a bastard as he is, I don't think your dad wants any blood on his hands."  

That did earn a giggle from Raye, despite her best efforts. 

"Finally," Jonah sighed against her skin. "Getting you to laugh is like pulling teeth sometimes." 

#rei x jadeite #senshi x shitennou #sailor moon #sm fanfic #rei hino #jadeite

[sparklezoi]

A ficlet I wrote for @smvillainsweek Day 2: Family/Wound

#smvillainsweek23 #Day 2 #shitennou #kunzite #zoisite #writing #yagific #sm fanfic #sailor moon fanfiction

[alwaysshallow]

Okay but imagine this Somehow ghost is at higher!ranked readers house It's just him , her And her baby (No Cheating husband around) And it starts to rain outside with thunder the baby Starts to cry and everything

And fucking simon Is just holding the baby like if it was his And of course he calms the baby down

And higher!ranked reader is just looking at him just with loving eyes.. ( And maybe they can have their first actual kiss there😗.... just a maybe...)

Btw I absolutely love your writing!

-🦷

You don't hear it first.

Tired, right in your apartment, taking a nap while Ghost works over some documents that you were supposed to work over with him—he's kind enough not to wake you since he knows how much you have to hold.

Maybe that's why he picks up the baby the moment she cries, cooing. Such a large, violent man, with war in his head, haunted by ghosts of the past, has your baby in his arms, being the softest he can. Whispering soothing words on her anxious little mind, overwhelmed by the storm that's happening outside.

It's the lightning that wakes you. Not the angry baby, nor the Simon that does his best to put the baby back to sleep.

For a moment, you're scared. Unable to find a baby, anxious, when you leave your bedroom in a hurry, just to see the idyllic picture of your baby girl and Simon.

"I've got it, mama," he murmurs. Low, not to wake up the baby that's already closing her eyes. You know it's the span of seconds and she’s gonna be in her happy place again. 

“You can give her to me. It’s not your duty—”

“—but somethin’ I want to do,” he cuts you off, shaking his head. “She woke up, and I was near, so… not a big deal.”

It is a big deal. At least, a big deal for you—you can’t really remember when your husband decided to do this for his own baby. It was always a problem; he’s tired, exhausted, he’s done it before. Excuses, nothing else, but excuses.

And here is Simon Riley.

Despite your thoughts, you smile a little. “Right. Got those fatherly instincts?” You raise your eyebrow, teasingly. He huffs, but before he says something, you place a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

The minute he frowns, you think you overcrossed a boundary. You're quick to open your mouth to blabber something about being sorry, but you don't get to say it.

Because his lips are on yours the second after.

It's not a heated kiss, like you would expect it. It's a slow one, full of emotions, just like he is. Longing, deep one, can be felt through his movements, as he'd want to remember the shape of your lips.

"'m gonna put her down," he starts, his voice a mere whisper, "then we'll talk. A'right?"

You just nod in response.

#thank you sm anon pls. #exilesanswers #anon.🦷 #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #simon riley #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #x reader #cod fanfic #simon riley fluff #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #higher!ranked reader

[it-is-i-that-witch]

Velseb Family Values

Chapter 3: Shaky Foundation

TW: angst, gaslighting

(if I'm wrong about these or I missed anything please let me know, I'm still trying to get used to writing TWs)

Was this really the life he’d signed up for?

He still kept his smile on as he placed dishes at the serving window, but he was certain that their regulars and the other staffers knew he was faking it. There were no lighthearted remarks from him anymore, nor was he working with the same energy as before. He was still just as efficient, but there was a notable shift in his behavior.

The reason for this change was his wife.

Since their wedding day, she hadn’t done a thing to help him. The house was always a mess when Bob returned home from work, and Teresa was usually entertaining herself. She didn’t even bother to acknowledge him anymore when he returned home. If Bob ever said a thing about her lack of participation, she’d yell at him and force him to apologize. If he ever pointed out that she’d broken something or made a mess, she’d deny it and somehow convince him that it was his fault, that he’d broken it, that he’d forgotten to clean it up.

If that was what marriage entailed, then what the hell was he doing?

At around two, the restaurant was completely cleared out, a rare occasion - although it usually pointed to a tedious dinner rush ahead. Bob was distracting himself by doing dishes, when he heard a low whistle. He looked over his shoulder to see Marsha and the busboy watching him.

Before Bob could say hello, Marsha bluntly asked, “What’s going on with you?”

Bob paused for a second. If he lied, would Marsha know? He had no way to tell. He’d never lied to any of the staff before.

He decided to chance it. “It ain’t nothin’. I’m just… mentally bracing myself for the dinner rush tonight.”

Marsha raised an eyebrow, but she was quick to recognize that she wouldn’t get anything else out of him. “If you say so, big man. I’ll leave you to it then.”

She left the kitchen and started speaking with the manager. Charice took no nonsense and was usually very stoic, but Bob could see through the serving window that she looked concerned. Was Marsha telling her something about him? He sincerely hoped not.

A few hours more of intense work, and finally the dinner rush was over. As Bob was hanging up his apron, he heard chatter from the rest area. “You know he’s lying, right?”

“Yes, Marsha, I know. But what do you expect me to do about it?”

“You’re the boss. Can’t you, I don’t know, make him tell you the truth?”

“I don’t have any more authority to do that than I do to take your phone. I’m his boss, not his mom.”

“Then what can you do?”

There was a brief pause. “Marsha, is there any particular reason you’re bringing this up?”

Another pause. “I think I know what’s going on, and if I’m right, then it’s my fault.”

“Are you talking about your friend?”

“She was horrible in high school, but when we reconnected a few years ago, she seemed to be doing better.”

“Was she doing better, or did she just get better at hiding it?”

When Marsha didn’t answer, Charice continued. “Look, Marsha, I understand why you’re upset. But because this is a personal matter, I can’t really do much to help.”

“I don’t know if I can face him after this…”

Charice huffed. “Now you’re being dramatic. I’m certain he doesn’t blame you.”

“Charice, he’s gonna keep coming to work and never address the problem if you don’t take action. My dad did the same thing - he started using his job as a means to avoid coming home. I don’t want one of my only good friends to suffer too.” It sounded like Marsha was on the verge of tears.

Charice sighed. “I… I’ll see what I can do. Go home and get some rest.”

Bob tried to play it cool when Marsha walked past him. She didn’t seem to notice that he’d been eavesdropping. Seconds later, Charice emerged and stood before him. “Bob.”

“Ain’t it rude to talk about someone behind their back?”

Charice grimaced. “You heard us talking.”

“Look, Charice, there ain’t nothin’ wrong with me. I’m here, aren’t I? I did my job, didn’t I?”

“That’s not the point and you know it.” Charice’s tone left absolutely no room for argument. Bob dared to meet her gaze directly, and he saw just how angry she was. Charice looked a bit like Teresa, actually, with her blonde hair framing her furious features. The only difference was that Charice was far kinder to him than Teresa.

“I know something’s going on. I’m not gonna push, but I won’t let you use us as a distraction tactic. To put it bluntly, I don’t want to see you here tomorrow.”

Bob felt like he’d been stabbed in the heart. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Are you firing me?!”

Charice held up a hand. “I didn’t say that. I’m putting you on paid leave as of tomorrow. I don’t want to have to do this, but until you get yourself together, I can’t have you here. I’m sorry, Bob, I am.”

He could feel tears welling up in his eyes, but he fought them back. He’d sworn to himself he’d never cry in front of the manager. “Why…?”

“Go home, Bob. And don’t come back until you’ve figured yourself out.”

And with that, she left him there, with his broken heart and no escape.

#spooky month #bob velseb #velseb family values #spooky month fanfic #sm fanfic

[marvelnatr]

Training

Warnings: Daddy!Nat, Sub!reader, humiliation, brat!tamer Nat, impact play, mocking, strap on, cock warming, breeding kink, cum filled strap, pussy spanking, spanking, bratting, oral fixation, office setting.

Summary: you continue to fail to complete your mission reports correctly. Fury has tried multiple times to get the teammates to teach you how to complete them and you cannot follow simple orders, he’s told that during your teachings you have a cocky attitude. So he places you in an office with Nat till you can get your act together.

Feel free to join my marvel discord geared to this kind of writing! Its in my pinned master list. If the link doesn’t work let me know darlings. I don’t bite <3

Your POV:

Walking into the office Natasha looked up at me, her eyebrow cocking as she stayed leaned over her desk “excuse you?” I watched her slightly confused “what? I’m supposed to be here at nine am and its nine ten” Natasha nodded “yes you’re late. But also have some manners and knock on my office door before you come in” I nodded a bit with an eye roll and started to cross the threshold, Natashas voice stopped me in my tracks “so turn around and try again”. Looking up at her I nodded and turned around, closing the door and knocking again. Natasha gently opened the door “come in”. Nodding I walked in the door and looked at Natasha, she pointed to the chair near her desk “sit” rolling my eyes again I sat down. I’m not a fucking dog. I felt Nats eyes on me, the door clicked shut and the sound of her heels getting closer to my chair till I felt her brush by me as she sat down “so you’ve been having some problems with your mission reports?” I shook my head “they’re fine. Fury is just being picky” Natasha looked up at me “his name to you is Director, I know for a fucking fact you and him are not on first name basis. Do I make myself clear?” Swallowing a little I nodded as Nat watched me “no, you’re going to give me a verbal confirmation” watching her I sat forward and spoke, allowing my attitude to lace my voice “okay”, Natasha’s eyes found mine, the second we made eye contact I had realized I may have sounded a little too bold. Natasha calmly spoke “okay what?” I watched her, backing down a little “o-okay yes ma’am”. I received a simple nod from her and sat there in silence while she finished up her work.

After fifteen minutes I looked at her “okay what the fuck am I doing here? Cause if I’m just gonna sit here I’m leaving” Natasha looked at me “you will be patient Y/N” pouting I sat back and watched her work. This went on for around another thirty minutes before she looked at me “okay, what was the last mission you did” I looked at her and sat up “fucking finally” shooting a glare at me she growled a little “watch your fucking mouth, I am here to help you, so drop the fucking attitude” ignoring her statement I pulled out my computer and pulled up the mission report. I felt her lean over my shoulder as she looked at my report and scoffed “no wonder fury wont take this, its messy” I looked at her “excuse you?” Natasha cocked her eyebrow at me “I didn’t stutter did I?” Shutting up a little I rolled my eyes and thought of a quick snarky comeback “so what’s wrong with it then if you’re so fucking smart” I guess that was it. That’s what snapped her. Within seconds I was turned and facing her, her green eyes piercing into mine

Natasha’s POV:

Wrapping my hand around her throat Y/N left out a little gasp, her eyes widening as her legs squeezed together. I laughed a little and mocked “oh, I see, you just needed to be choked out a little didn’t you?” Y/N’s knuckles turned white as she squirmed “n-no” I laughed at her, tutting “oh detka, poor little thing. How I’d love to fuck you but you need an attitude adjustment” I let go of her neck with a little push and looked at her “rewrite it. Again. Stop beating around the bush and write it” Y/N pouted “b-but I don’t know how” I grabbed her jaw and made her look at me “you’re a smart little girl, you’ll figure it out” a pout formed on her lips as she looked at her computer and started typing. Nodding I sat back down at my desk. Y/N’s legs were squeezed shut as she typed. She would look up at me on occasion, her eyes begged me to fuck her as her pupils were blown with lust. Smirking at her I shook my head “focus on your work darling”

Y/N continued with her work. I decided it was time to fuck around with her a little, my fingers made their way to my button up shirt, slowly undoing the first three buttons to reveal my cleavage. Y/N’s eyes had been trained on my chest for a solid two minutes now. I laughed a little “what’s got you distracted darling?” Y/N swallowed hard and shook her head “nothing”. I slowly got up and leaned over the desk, my chest close to her face “try again detka” Y/N looked up at me, her eyes filled with anticipation as I leaned over her. The younger woman shakily inhaled and swallowed thick, as he spoke weakly “n-nothing miss” nodding I turned her computer to me “lets see how much progress you’ve made shall we love”. Looking over her work I tutted, she really hasn’t changed a thing. She’s made advances but hasn’t done much. I looked at her “this really isn’t any better dorogoy, are you really that dumb that you can’t put together a simple report? I know you’re so much smarter then this” a whine fell from her lips “I don’t get it, this is such bullshit!” Cocking my eyebrow at her I warned her “watch your mouth” Y/N looked at me with that same bratty look “fucking make me” laughing I leaned in closer “I will”. Her eyes widened as I sat down in my chair and patted my lap “come bring your computer and sit” Y/N rolled her eyes “no, I’m not a fucking child” I chuckled “you sure are acting like one” she quickly shot me a look and stupidly defended herself “I am not!” I scoffed at her “you are, just like a spoiled fucking brat if you ask me” huffing Y/N sat back in her chair, folding her arms and turning away from me just as a pouting child would. I laughed and mumbled “my point proven”

After about fifteen minutes she grumbled “I would like to leave now” I nodded while typing “you can after you finish your report” Y/N groaned “but I don’t fucking know what to do to fix it!” Looking over at her I spoke calmly, probably pissing her off even more “I offered to help you darling, and you wouldn’t take it. But the offer is still there. When you can drop your ego and come and sit in my lap like a good girl I can help you” she shook her head and spat “in your fucking dreams” I laughed and nodded “your choice then darling”

After a few more minutes she realized I wasn’t giving in. I heard her movements to grab her computer and find her way over to me. Looking over at her I saw her eyes watching my lap. Leaning back I gave her room to sit down, Y/N shuffled over to me pouting as I took her computer from her and allowed her to sit in my lap. Tucking some hair behind her ear I whispered “this isn’t so bad is it?” Shifting to get comfy she grumbled, her eyebrows furrowed in frustration “this sucks” I laughed a little and held her waist “don’t hurt my feelings now darling. Stop pretending you don’t like it”. A red tint fell over her cheeks as she cuddled into me and I smiled “that’s a good girl. Now, look at your screen”. I adjusted Y/N so she could see her screen and her eyes widened at me, I knew it was only time before she felt my strap in my pants, I laughed a little and mocked in her ear “so distracted darling, are you okay?”. A blush tinted her cheeks red as she nodded “y-yes da- ma’am”, I smirked “oh no baby say what you were gonna say”. Y/N squirmed in my lap as she mumbled, I held her hips and stilled her movements “speak up detka”. She pushed her head into my chest “y-yes d-daddy”. I groaned a little and held her hips down “such a good girl, there we go, finally learning your place”, the girl shot a glare at me and I smacked her thigh “nuh uh little girl, knock it off”, her eyes rolled as she spat “fucking make me”.

My hand quickly wrapped around her throat as I stood her up, quickly laying her flat over my desk then landing a harsh smack to her ass “that’s it, enough of the attitude”, Y/N gasped and moaned a little. Chuckling I tutted “such a fucking slut, is this what you want? You want me to spank you?” I spanked her again and stuck my fingers in her mouth “you just want to get punished thats all, want me to make you my little bitch”. I continued to land harsh spanks to her ass, the crimson red color was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You could see the slight outlines of my rings from the impact on her sore ass. Y/N was whimpering and crying a little, drooling all over my desk. I laughed “awww my poor little girl, you can give but you cant take? But you look so pretty for me. You ass all red while you make a mess all over my desk. Those pretty little tears don’t mean shit to me princess”

I watched as she squirmed, an unmistakable wet patch forming on her panties. Kicking her legs apart I gently pushed my palm on her cunt “mmmm so wet for me babygirl” Y/N moaned and whined, her legs closing around my hands. I smacked her cunt and looked up at her “you do not close your legs when I touch you, do you understand little girl?” She nodded and moaned “y-yes daddy” pushing my hand against her cunt I spoke again “I said do you understand?”, moaning a bit louder she fixed her sentence “y-yes daddy I understand” smirking I whispered in her ear “panties off and lay on the couch”. Y/N scrambled to the couch taking off her panties. I locked the office door and headed over to her. I rubbed her thighs gently “open your legs detka”, her legs quickly fell open and I groaned “you’re fucking soaked babygirl“ a red tint formed on her cheeks as I trailed my finger along her cunt “so you can follow orders, shocking”. Y/N snapped her legs shut “oh fuck off”. I cocked my eyebrow at her lowering my voice to a growl “what did you just say to me Y/N?”, her eyes went wide as her face turned white. Fear and anticipation flooded her eyes as I tutted “what am I going to do with you huh little girl?” I watched as she swallowed thick, standing up I leaned over her and grabbed her neck “lets see…I could edge you…or I could spank your poor little cunt….and I could just completely leave you without touching you” Y/N quickly protested to my last suggestion, a pleading whine falling from her lips “no daddy please! Please don’t leave me like this!”. I laughed at her “and what makes you think you’re in any position to tell me what to do with you darling? Where on earth did you get that thought?”

Dead silence fell over the room. Y/N’s pupils blown with lust and fear as she squirmed. I chuckled at her squeezing her neck tighter and pulling her closer to my face “come on slut speak up”, the younger woman gasped and rambled out “I-I dont! y-you’re in charge daddy”. Smiling I nodded “that’s right detka, daddy is is charge. Here’s what’s gonna happen” I trailed my hand down to her cunt as I spoke, allowing my accent to lace my voice a little more “you’re going to lay here and hold yourself open while daddy spanks this pretty little cunt five times for your misconduct. Do I make myself clear?” Y/N moaned and nodded “y-yes daddy you made yourself clear”

Y/N spread herself open, I smirked at her “so wet”, leaning down I hovered my face just above her cunt, my breath falling over her cunt making her twitch as I smiled “oh this is gonna be so much fucking fun” pushing my palm onto her heated core I kissed her gently then landed a semi harsh smack. Y/N yelped and moaned as I gently rubbed “you know what to do darling”. The girl swallowed thick, her chest rising and falling as she attempted to catch her breath “o-one thank you daddy”. Smiling I nodded and spanked her pussy again. I received the same reaction as the last. Y/N jolting slightly at the impact on her already swollen cunt from being so needy. I looked in her eyes as she counted again “two t-thank you daddy”. Nodding I finished the next three. Rubbing her pussy gently I groaned “so red and puffy now darling, you look so pretty like this” a blush fell over her cheeks and I chuckled “so shy, why did I punish you baby?” Y/N whispered gently “b-because I closed my legs while you were touching me” I nodded and rubbed “and is that polite?”, blushing further she shook her head “no daddy”. I smiled and kissed her knee “good girl. Now, you need to finish your report”. Immediately she whined “I don’t wanna!” I folded my arms “tell you what, you do the report and you get to cockwarm daddy as you work” Y/N bit her lip eagerly nodding “deal!”

Laughing I walked over to the desk and sat down. Y/N watched me as she rubbed her legs together, I patted my lap “come on darling, you’re so soaked you’ll be just fine”. She turned beet red as she straddled me and sunk gently down on my strap. Her cunt swallowing every inch of the thick toy as her mouth fell open in a silent moan. It was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen and I couldn’t wait to breed her. To claim her and make her mine. I rested my hands on her hips and whispered praises “come on babygirl, just a little more. You can take it. I know you can” her eyes watched mine as she whimpered “you’re so big daddy, it wont fit” I laughed a little and rubbed her waist “oh darling. It’ll fit, daddy will help you”. She nodded as I lightly fucked up into her. My entire length buried into her cervix as she moaned “f-fucking hell” rubbing her hips gently I praised “thats it, such a good girl, you’ve done so well for me baby” she smiled and I patted her cheek “now get to work”

Y/N worked on her report as I looked over a file. Every so often I would check on her to see her progress. I could feel her arousal coating my thighs. The heat radiating off her core. Sometimes she would shift and moan from the sensation of the strap moving inside her. After thirty minutes she had finally finished. I put my file down and leaned forward, moving in her again. Y/N moaned as I rubbed her thigh to calm her and read over her report. I smiled and gripped her thigh a little “thats more like it baby, you do know what to do you just wanted to cookie cut it” Y/N pouted and bratted a little “did not!”. Quickly I smacked her thigh “no ma’am, no more of that” the girl whimpered “s-sorry daddy”. My hips involuntary bucked up, causing me to fuck into her. It was a pure reaction to the honorific falling from her lips. I received a moan from her in return, groaning I whispered in her ear “I could listen to those pretty little sounds all day” Y/N whimpered “please fuck me daddy, I-I can’t wait anymore”

Quickly picking her up I brought her over to the couch, my strap staying buried in her the entire time. I rested her down on the couch, her back hitting the leather cushions. I moan fell from her lips as my cock moved inside of her “oh baby be a good girl and let daddy fuck you hm? I know you’ve been craving this from the second you looked at me”. Y/N whimpered and nodded as I started fucking into her “that’s it, good girl detka”. Quickly grabbing a hold of the leather she moaned “f-fucking hell daddy you’re so big” I laughed a little and kept fucking her “I know darling”. Y/N’s head threw back as her eyes closed, I slapped her tit “ah ah, no little girl, you look daddy in the eyes while she’s fucking you. I want to memorize exactly what you look like when you’re falling apart under me”

Y/N’s eyes shot open again as she watched me, I nodded and slipped my fingers into her mouth, lightly making her gag which in turn made her clench around my strap. She quickly got the understanding to suck and begun swirling her tongue around my fingers. My digits muffling her moans as her teary eyes watched me. I smiled and mocked her “look at you, drooling all over yourself as I fuck your tight little pussy. You look fucking pathetic darling. I’m glad you’re found a better use for that pretty mouth of yours rather than bratting”. At this point she was too busy to complain, to dumb fucked out to argue. Fucking into her harder I groaned “fuck pup you look so pretty like this”. She moaned loud and bucked her hips, I cocked my eyebrow at her “you like that one huh? You want daddy to breed this sweet little pussy? To claim you?”. A babbled yes fell from her mouth around my fingers. I smirked and fucked into her harder “fuck thats my good girl”

Y/N’s legs started to shake, I took my fingers out of her mouth “you ask for permission to cum detka” her moans grew louder “p-please daddy please can I cum?” I groaned and nodded “fuck babygirl cum for me, gonna fill you up, make my cum drip from that pretty little cunt”. I gripped her legs and spread them wider as she came. Fully bottoming out inside her I came with her. Filling her cunt as she screamed a little “h-holy fucking shit daddy!” I laughed as I kissed her cheek “such a good girl for me, now everyone in the office knows who’s screwing you”, Y/N’s face tinted red as I stroked her cheek “it’s okay darling, you’re mine now”

As her breathing slowed I gently pulled out, some of the cum dripping from her cunt as it spilled on the couch. Chuckling I rubbed her thighs “such a messy girl”. I went into my private bathroom and wet a washcloth, coming back I kissed her inner thigh “may I dove?”. Y/N nodded all floaty, I melted at her relaxed face and fucked out body. While I cleaned her up I spoke “no more of the bratty attitude okay baby?” Y/N nodded and whispered “okay daddy”. I smiled softly at her and gently put her panties back on and grabbed one of my blankets from my storage ottoman, wrapping her up in it as I picked her up and held her in my arms “that’s my good girl, you can rest now darling”

Y/N cuddled into my neck and closed her eyes. While she dozed off I rubbed some cream on her ass, admiring the indentation of my rings on her red flesh for a few seconds. Kissing her head I sat down and continued to do some of my work, doing my best not to wake the sleeping angel in my lap.

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#ome’s arts💥 #art #art !!! dump !!! #these are my ipad shenanigans bc ya !!! hahahah !!!! #i love them sm i’m gonna die for them omg ….. #shadamy #peek oomf’s mini doodle fanart hahaha !!!! i love ppeachx3’s fanfics sm !!! haha !!!!