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xozombiee · 5 months

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“AFTER HOURS!” | W. BONNEY

✫| synopsis: bartending in the west gets boring at times, especially when the same old cowboys and outlaws come through those saloon doors everyday. you’d thought this was it..that’s the end of your story. then a certain outlaw, who’s name was getting around, walked through the doors.

warnings: porn with little plot, mentions of death, riding, little praise..it’s always gonna be there, female bodied reader, lowk psy rubbing??, hair pulling me thinks, idk what else

note: am i doing this instead of my homework?…yes. also do i know wtf women wore in the 1800s? err no. i tried tho! this is not proofread btw

In a dusty, sun-kissed town nestled amidst the rugged landscape of the west, there stood a saloon that echoed with tales of grit and resilience. behind the polished mahogany bar, you stood tall with a fiery spirit that matched the flickering glow of the oil lamps that illuminated the room.

you weren’t any ordinary bartender; you were a force to be reckoned with. with glimmering eyes that held mystery, and a rough demeanor that you used to command respect from every patron who dared to enter the establishment. your hands, calloused from years of hard work, moved with grace and precision as you served up drinks that could raise spirits or drown sorrows.

though the town was dominated by rough cowboys and outlaws, you had carved out your own place in their rugged hearts. they sought solace in your presence, and you became a confidante, offering a sympathetic ear to the broken souls who stumbled through the doors.

as the sun began its descent, casting an orange hue over the town, your saloon transformed into a sanctuary of camaraderie and laughter. the clinking of glasses and the lively banter of patrons mixed with the soulful melodies of a lone pianist, creating a symphony that echoed through the wooden walls.

but behind the facade of joviality, you carried your own secrets and dreams. you arrived in this town not long ago, escaping a past that haunted your every step. determined to leave a mark on the world, you had chosen the life of a bartending, finding comfort in the stories and journeys of those who crossed paths with you.

with swift movements back and forth behind your bar, you served drinks to the men celebrating..whatever it was this time. they sang along with others, their words jumbled and lazy, but undoubtedly filled with passion. you laughed as one of them sung to you, his eyes droopy and a crooked smile at his lips.

cleaning a few glasses, you watch as they all chat amongst themselves, if they weren’t still singing that is. a part of you yearned to have a life like theirs. to be free to do whatever you please, and not be told otherwise. you’d liked the idea of running from place to place and meeting new people. though, that’d never happen for you.

your back turns as you gather the clean glasses together, putting them neatly side by side. the sound of the saloon doors open, a sound you were used to by now. with your back still turned, you notice how most of the attendees in the saloon had gone quiet, watching as the person and their footsteps approached the bar.

turning back around, you come face to face with a taller man. he wore a shabby black hat, a maroon corduroy jacket that sat along his shoulders, and a gun at his waist. two actually, you noted as the jacket moved when he sat at the bar.

with a polite smile, you come closer, holding his gaze with yours. “evening, sir. what can i get you?”

he gives you a tight lipped smile, “whiskey, please.”

you hold his gaze for a second longer before glancing back at the people in the saloon. they stared with either fear, or curiosity in their faces. a scowl grows on your lips, muttering a small ‘drunkards’ under your breath.

the man watches as you place a clean glass onto the bar, and grab a bottle filled with brown liquid. his gaze moves to the drink as it pours into the cup, almost filling to the brim.

“you look familiar,” your voice chimes in again. “have i seen you in here before?”

he shakes his head, gaze falling back to yours. “nah.” he replies. “just passing through.”

with a sigh falling from your nose, you try to read his expression; he looked tired. you weren’t an idiot, it was obvious he was on the run. you’d seen his face on the posters, but didn’t know what his name was or what he was wanted for.

your fingernail taps against the glossy wood of the bar. trying to hide your sympathetic expression, you glance around the room. “if you need anything else, let me know, yeah?”

he nods, watching as you walk away to tend to the other customers. the way you moved was calm despite working in such an intense environment. his eyes trailed up and down your figure before taking a sip from his glass.

it seemed like hours passed as you worked. going back and forth behind the counter was time consuming as it passed so quickly. more and more people were leaving the bar as the early hours of the next day were coming.

as you went to grab some glasses from tables, you notice as the man before was still at the bar. his head was hung low, eyes trained on his glass. he’d had about three glasses of whiskey by now, only taking sips from time to time.

you’d noticed through the night how people tried to approach him. he’d usually brush them off, or making small talk that ended in peaceful silence. he wasn’t someone that was easily approachable to the blind eye. he held a strong, cold demeanor.

after gathering all the dirty glasses, and kicking the last passed out drunkard, you slide back behind the bar. you take the bucket of dirty glasses to the small sink, placing it inside before turning the water on. as it fills, you stare at it as your mind falls else where.

before it overflows, you turn the faucet off. you pour a little soap into the mix before drying your hands off to let the glasses soak. with echoing footsteps, you turn back to the bar and are face to face with the man of the night.

“want another, or is three enough?” you ask, a slight smile at your lips.

he glances up at you, studying your expression for a moment. his eyes drop back to the wooden bar, fingers tapping his halfway-empty-glass.

“this is fine.” he answers.

your elbows come to rest at the cool wood, chin in your palm as you watch him. you’d debated for most of the night to ask him what exactly he was running from. it would probably sound stupid considering how everyone and their second cousin knew about it. all except for you, as you didn’t look much into news and such.

he stares back at you, giving you the same energy within his gaze. his blue eyes analyze every bit of you, and you almost shudder at the sight of it.

“so, how long you been on the run now?” you ask, voice interrupting each of your own thoughts.

he brings the glass to his lips, downing the rest before replying. “months.” he mutters, not even phased by your abrupt question.

you hum in reply, “alone?”

“mhm.”

with his short and simple response, you laugh. it wasn’t out of humor, but rather more of irritation. you’d think someone as well known as him would talk more. most outlaws never shut up about flaunting their reputations. it’s different.

“you’re not a man of many words.” you say, not really caring about how he’d take your tone.

he shrugs, sucking his teeth a bit. “i’ve got nothing to say.”

you raise a brow, “tell me a story or something. i hear the same shit every night from my regulars. give me something new.” you request.

pouring a little more whiskey into his glass, you watch as his eyes dart to yours. “it’s on me.” you assure, giving him a smile.

the man sighs, tilting his head a little at the thought. what could he tell you? that he killed a man? that he fought a man in a saloon just like yours right before shooting him in the stomach out of defense? no..you’d probably already heard it anyways.

“what do you already know about me?” he questions, taking another sip.

your eyes squint at him, “i know you’re an outlaw on the run, obviously..and that’s about it. i don’t even know what the hell they call you.” you reply.

he chuckles, a small smile at his lips. “you’re probably one of the first.” he says. “just call me billy.”

with another hum, you nod slowly and give him your name. “billy..yeah, i think i did hear that once or twice.”

“well, either way, i don’t have many stories to tell.”

your eyes roll, a huff coming from your nose. “tell me why you’re an outlaw. i’ve heard like three different stories, and it can’t be all of them.”

billy smiles again, eyes falling from yours and to your lips for a split second. you watch him debate in his head before taking his hat off. he sets it on the empty stool next to him, running his fingers through his hair. he had brown shaggy hair that was sprawled all over his head.

“i killed a man. it was self defense.” he says, almost as if he was pleading his case.

you deadpan at him, “that’s all i get? not even a backstory?”

“there’s not much to it. he was making accusations at me..which weren’t entirely false, then he came at me. we fought over my gun, and i shot.” he elaborates, glancing at you with disinterest as if it was a meaningless story.

you fall quiet for a moment, brows raised while processing his words. that story was heard, but you didn’t know if it was the truth until now. the other stories were about robbing a bank and killing a bunch of people. hearing the actual story now..you couldn’t understand all the fuss.

a laugh falls from your lips, hand moving to pinch the bridge of your nose. “so, all this talk is because you killed a man that was attacking you?”

“yes, ma’am.”

your smile remains for a bit, eyes watching billy. “so, what now? you just gonna keep running?”

he shrugs once more, eyes kept on his glass. “probably.”

“have you at least slept?”

billy shakes his head. you chew on the inside of your cheek, contemplating multiple things in your head. if you offered him a place to sleep in the loft above your saloon, he’d probably laugh in your face. but, a part of you didn’t want him out on the street sleeping defenseless.

as a other sigh falls from you, you move away from the bar and stand straight. “i’ve got an extra room where i stay. wanna take it for the night?”

his eyes find yours, expression vague, “are you sure? i mean, i don’t wanna—”

“it’s fine. i’d feel guilty if i opened up tomorrow and my regulars are telling me you got killed in your sleep.”

billy focuses on you for awhile before taking one last sip. he lightly places the glass on the counter before moving to grab some money from his pocket.

your hand finds his wrist as he places it on the counter. “keep it. just take your ass upstairs while i finish up.”

he grins a little, grabbing his hat and standing from the stool. billy slowly moves to the door at the back of the saloon, opening it and disappearing from sight. you roll up your sleeves as you move back to the sink, dipping your hands into the soapy water to clean the glasses.

after about ten minutes, you make way up to your loft in the building. your footsteps slightly echo as you move toward the light in the living room. when you reach the floor, you watch as billy sits on the couch with his head thrown back on the edge while his hat covered up his face.

slowly approaching in front of him, you lightly kick his shin. he snaps his head up, eyes wide as his hat falls to his lap. he lets out a small breath in relief, making you smile. you watch as he sits up on the couch.

“scared the shit out of me.” he mumbles, putting that ragged hat on again.

you move to sit next to him, bouncing lightly on the cushions. “must’ve been too tired to hear me coming up the steps.”

he leans into the couch once more, eyes trained on the ceiling. you watched his expression and how he studied the whiteness of the panels above.

“penny for your thoughts?” you whisper, watching his eyes shift over to you.

billy shakes his head, scoffing a little to himself. “it’s nothing. just thinking.”

“about?”

“everything.”

you let your gaze falter, moving to the floor. “everything that’s happened?” you ask.

he nods, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. billy wants nothing more than to go back and stop everything that’s happened. to change what got him to this point.

but if he did that, he would’ve never met you. you were one of the kindest people to him since the incident. the way you carried yourself, much like him, was with confidence. he respected you, and that aspect of your personality.

“i understand what it’s like..kind of.” you say, patting down the wrinkles in your outfit. “i was never wanted, but i’ve done things. things i wish i could take back.”

billy watches as you speak, the way your lips move and the expression you hold shifts with each emotion running through you. he almost doesn’t understand what you’re saying. the only thing keeping him to reality was the fact you sounded serious.

he adjusts himself on the furniture, “what have you done?” he asks, a part of him afraid to know the answer.

“i’ve killed.” you reply, the tone of your voice dropping lowly. “it was in defense, like you.”

billy watches the way you bounce your knee against the flooring of the loft. the dress you wear moves along with it, and your shoe lightly taps.

“when did it happen?” he asks as his pure curiosity gets the best of him.

you look up at him, smiling a little. “i was fourteen.”

billy looks at you, empathizing with your situation. though he wasn’t that young when it happened, he still felt some sort of connection with your experience.

“i don’t regret killing him honestly, but i regret hurting my family and his. they didn’t deserve to go through that. it wasn’t any of their faults.” you say as you breathe out slowly.

in an small moment, his hand is on yours. it’s a light touch, like he’s afraid to hurt you. billy moves his other hand to the space beneath your chin, and shifts your head to look at him in the eyes.

his voice is light, “you were defending yourself. it wasn’t your fault either.” billy whispers.

the words make your heart swell. after everything, hearing those words made it all feel better. almost all the guilt left your veins. he was right after all. it wasn’t your fault. what that man did..you just did what you had to.

as he holds your gaze, you slowly inch toward him. his blue irises bore into yours, watching as you shift them to his lips. they were slightly chapped and held a small frown on them.

billy leaned closer to you and your breaths mingled, like two lights finding each other in the darkness. he could feel your heart beating against your ribcage, as all of his senses were focused on you and you alone.

he closed the distance, and his lips met yours. billy felt himself melt into you like a magnet. everything muted itself, and his hands made way to your waist. he pulled you onto him, your knees caging around his thighs.

your hands found their way to his jaw, pulling him even closer. he tasted your soft lips and felt your warm skin against his. the room seemed to dissolve around you as the only thing in existence was this. this perfect union.

time stood still, and you both wanted more, but neither wanting it to initiate it. then, with what restraint he had left, he pulled away, his lips still grazing yours.

he looks up at you, his eyes filled with worry. “im sorry, i didn’t mean—”

“shut up.”

pressing your lips back to his, he lets out a grunt in reply before melting into you once more. the warmth of you, your lips, your being that sat in his lap—he felt lightheaded. billy moved his hands to your waist again, slowly trailing them up your back.

you feel the buttons of your dress being undone. he stops right before taking the sleeves off, prying himself away from you. billy’s eyes look into yours for confirmation, and you give him a quick, impatient nod in reply.

with that, he pulls the dress off slowly. your lips trail from his own to his neck, putting the flesh between your teeth. he groaned, trying to focus on untying your corset.

as he removed it, he wasted no time to discard it to the floor, hands making way to take off the chemise you wore.

“all those months on the run got you impatient now, cowboy?” you mutter, laughing as he would struggle from time to time.

billy looks up at you, his gaze slightly hidden by his hat, “no, just none of the women i’ve been with wore this much underneath. i’m also not a cowboy, sweetheart.”

rolling your eyes, you grab at his wrists to stop him. he looks up at you, big eyes and all, causing the built up pressure in your lower stomach to worsen. “just leave it. i’m not wearing anything under, so don’t fuss.”

you watch him nod slowly as he started to stare, making no move to take off his clothes. “do i have to do it for you?” you whisper, hands undoing the brown suspenders on his shoulders.

he shakes his head, moving to unbutton his pants he wore. you watch the way he fumbles with them, sliding them midway down his thighs. billy’s hands eventually move back to your waist, bunching up your chemise to your hips.

billy’s eyes watch as your pretty pussy comes into view, sitting in his lap with such a prepossessing aura. he has to restrain himself from taking you right then.

his dick was hard and twitching, the length had an angry tip with its slit profusely leaking pre-cum. it looked painful and it was because of you. you. you wondered if you had power over him now for a brief second but you shake your head clear of these thoughts.

instead, you catch his lips again, the kiss slower this time. you raise yourself a bit so he can align himself to your entrance. the cool touch of his hand meets your cunt, sliding a finger through the folds and collecting the juices flowing from you.

he uses your slick and spreads it across your sensitive pussy. you took a deep breath of air into your lungs. this feeling was new, since no man you’d been with ever did this, but it wasn’t unwelcome.

a small groan falls from billy’s lips as he uses it to prep himself, guiding his hand along his cock and pumping it slowly. he was on the girthy side with veins on the underside of his cock.

you knew you would stretch around him, that your walls would be a perfect fit around his length. you were too impatient for any sort of foreplay; you wanted the stretch. you wanted him to make you dizzy with his cock splitting you apart.

billy grabs your hips with his unoccupied hand, bringing you closer to him. you let out a whimper as you began to sink onto him, eyes flicking to his. those blue ones he held were zeroed down to the place you both were connected now.

his hands are on either side of your hip, guiding you down on his length. it was after his cock was fully stuffed in you, that his self-control allowed him to almost whine at the feeling of you.

your hands are on his shoulders to support yourself. your fingers weakly fist his shirt as you begin to ride him, raising yourself a few inches before slamming down on his cock with a loud moan escaping your lips. he reached the deepest spot inside of you somehow. no one had ever done that. not like this.

his cockhead grazes your spongy spot as you fuck yourself on him. arousal and his pre-cum are smeared all over your thighs. this sight made billy’s breath hitch, something you didn't notice as you were too busy with your eyes closed and taking him. you looked completely dissoluted like this.

your hair was a mess now, your lips glossy and swollen, hands digging into his shoulder. billy felt himself become enraptured by you and this sight. it was something he could get used to..if he wasn’t an outlaw that is.

he pulls you closer to him. one of his hands is on your back, pressing you to him. his hips raise upwards to fuck you as he now lets out more vocal sounds of enjoyment.

watching him with a hazy gaze, you remove the hat from his head. you place it onto your own, grinning at how he stares up at you like you were the creator of all living beings and creatures on this earth.

moving one of your hands from his shoulder, you bring it to his hair and give some strands a tug. he groans, the vibrations of his chest transferring to his dick, which transferred to you.

each thrust of his was made for his selfishness in your velvet walls. the drag of his cock was perfect, his speed was unbelievable. it was like heaven itself, but without the pearly gates and clouds.

while stuck in your own brain, the feeling of teeth bring you back to reality. you let a shuddered sigh fall as billy digs into the collarbone that peaked from your square-necked chemise. he slowly kisses up your neck, bringing a hand to the back of your head.

“fuck..’s too good,” he mutters, trying to keep his voice even.

you laugh, making him groan a little. he looks up, watching as you bounce with one hand held on his hat to keep it on. “too good? were all your other girls shit?”

he lets out short breaths, his blue eyes studying the way you moved as if he was in a trance. billy would answer if he wasn’t on another planet right now. a planet where you were taking him so deliciously, almost to the point where he could pass out.

“fuck,” he says under his breath as your pussy clenches around him. “where do you want it?” his voice was strained from trying to keep his composure.

you pant, “inside.”

billy doesn’t waste a second before obliging and quickening his pace, making the hat on your head fall lopsided. you could feel the pressure in you tightening, almost about to burst like a pipe.

he moves his thumb to rub at your clit, and the tip of his cock repeatedly nudges against that one spot that has you falling apart on top of him with a loud cry. your orgasm hits you hard and billy can’t hold it in any longer. he fucks into you for another minute, eyes squeezed shut as he groans out your name.

billy groans when you flutter around him as you cum. he’s thrusting his hips up into you with his newfound force. it requires you to tighten your grip on his shoulders to stay put as he empties his load deep inside you, his sweet moans echoing in the living room.

your cunt milks him dry, and he fills you up to the brim—to the point where you could feel him leak out of you. the both of you pause, your hands resting on his chest as you catch your breath.

he slowly eases his cock out of you. the both of you were breathing heavily as he pulls you closer, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. you wrap you arms around his chest, listening to his heart beat.

“wanna share my bed?” you whisper.

tags: @m0rphys

#xozombiee #YESS I FINISHED #tom blyth #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid #save a horse ride a cowboy #coriolanus snow #RAHHHHHH #guys pls like #and subscribe #william h bonney

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panakina · 4 months

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There is something to Jason’s orphaning that dick and bruce can’t relate to.

Bruce and dick suffered loss like a bandaid torn off. A single act and joy was snuffed out. Tragedy introduced like a gavel. Hard and sudden, with a sharp entry point and bloody exit wound, a clear channel of destruction through a functioning life.

Jason had months of slow descent. Not the frog slowly boiling without noticing, but a death of a thousand bitter cuts. Grief that was heralded years before it arrived, a shadow at the door, footsteps getting ever closer. There was no turning point. No day it all went wrong. Poverty. Desperation. Incarceration. Cancer. Pain killers. Dependency. Tragedy vast like an ocean, and there is no one to threaten, no punch so strong it can outweigh it. There is only swimming or drowning.

#ruminating on orphans #jason todd #red hood #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #dc

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catfern · 6 months

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Cowboy!ellie

Save a horse, ride a cowboy 😉

so um yeah um this was.. yeah

“fu-fuck.”

the bottle of cider clicked and rolled along the floorboards, the drink fizzing and dying in the cracks. ellie’s fingers had nested in your hair, pulling and prying as she lost herself in the taste of you.

the horses needed rest, and the ground was too cold and arid to break camp. ellie cursed under her breath - cheapskate - at the luxury of a hotel. but you had begged, so sweetly, and promised to make it worth her while.

but she was mean. honey whiskey on her breath, you could hear her smile through the ragged feeling of her hands on your waist, callouses digging bruises into your hip bones. her leg slides up to drag your velvet slick along her thigh and you whine, syrupy and lost.

“what’re you doing?” a teasing whisper against the crook of her neck, the vibrations of your voice run along the ridges of ellie’s body like electricity. she laughs, breathy and wild and rough, and you let yourself fall into its comforts, mistakingly.

“jus’ having my fun, flower.”

“that all i am to you? fun?”

“oh, honey,” ghosts of her hands run along the back of your neck, swimming in your hair. you sigh, before a sharp yank sets your nerves on fire, pulling your face from hiding. her gaze is wildfire, running along the contours of your face, your shape of your cheeks and lips with a molasses, lopsided smile, “you’re everything to me.”

you can feel her heartbeat drumming against your chest, a nervous arrhythmia that traces up and down your body, settled in the base of her palms. it feels like a song, wicked and savage, echoes on your skin. your eyes fall to the arc of her breathing, the swell of her chest and the silhouette of her shoulders against the pillow.

you feel her looking at you. something threatening. her breath is low, “now, what’s goin’ on in your pretty little head?”

her hand is a cage against your cheek, control. desperation pools against your thighs, spreading it along her clothed cunt, a soft gasp falling from her lips as she slowly - painfully slowly - lifts you, watching your slick web from the tone of her leg. her touch runs through you like ichor, and her name rocks from you in distraction.

her charm is lost to the heavy air, and nothing but the rasp of her voice remains, “move.”

her leg shifts against your clit and you nearly scream, collapsing in on yourself and digging your nails into the flesh of her shoulders. ellie holds you steady, letting you gently twist yourself around her existence as you straddle her thigh, your need dripping on her skin, riding the soft burn in your stomach with unaired caution.

ellie wants to play nice, almost desperately wants to, but she’s ever impatient, and she can feel how much you need it. so why aren’t you taking what she’s giving you?

you’re going too slow.

it’s like she possesses you, her hands no longer a guide but a demand as she rocks your body against hers, her fingers pressing into your waist like a brand. your head throws back and a guttural sound rips through you as the tone of her muscle brushes your clit, again, again. ellie has lost herself at the sound of you, to her own abandon. she watches how your pussy slides against her oh so well, a saccharine warmth melting against her skin like gold, chasing more like it was essential to her survival.

“jesus,” her voice is breathy,manic and pussydrunk, “that wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

her question, however mocking, falls on deaf ears. your body is drowning, soft and slow, letting yourself revel in the effervescent role ellie has taken in your life, her feeling everywhere. you surrender yourself to her, let her body rush you as you feel her start to move beneath you, her voice descent to pure desperation as she ruts, and you’re withering. you’re almost bouncing on top of her, her hands moving you relentlessly against her leg as she becomes wretched for her own release.

“ellie, sweet-fuck, it’s too much-too much,” you choke, your voice a pathetic wobble, your clit is stinging as the knot ever-so-tightens in your stomach. pressure, pressure, you’re pushing back against her, trying to give yourself a reprieve from the woman you so foolishly entangled yourself with. her grip is strong,

“jus-shut up! fuck! you feel so good, flower. so fu-ucking good.”

you’re exhausted, but ellie’s hand continues, pushing and pulling you against her like the tide,

“don’t you dare fucking stop.”

#ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams drabble #ellie the last of us

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angelshadowsinger · 11 months

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Supposed to Be Together {part 3 - finale}

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.8k 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: angst, fluff, SMUT SMUT SMUT 𝐊𝐞𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: long-winded confessionals, many a love-bomb, and many a spice ;) 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 . 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴, 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

𝘖𝘬𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴!! 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨-𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪-𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘚𝘵𝘉𝘛! 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺. 𝘐 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘩, 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘵-𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥! 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵-𝘵𝘰-𝘵𝘩𝘦-𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭. 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘐 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘵 (𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘈𝘻 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘦). 𝘌𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺~

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ ꜱɪᴘʜᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

Azriel all but fell into the room. The large male caught his footing at the last second, having been flush against the door just seconds before. He seemed shocked that you had really granted him entry, prepared to grovel and linger pitifully on your doorstep all night– all week– however long it took.

You bit down the noise of pleasure that attempted escape when you grabbed his wrist and your skin sang, yanking him inside and shutting the door behind him. Now it was just the two of you in your bedchambers, and if the rest of the Inner Circle had their wits about them, you would remain undisturbed for quite some time.

Glassy hazel eyes widened at the sight of you– your chest heaving slightly, your starry, doubtful gaze shooting arrows into his limbs and pinning him to the door that he had just so desperately clawed at the other side of. He tried to put on some kind of guise– as he did any time emotion bloomed– but he could only stare at you. No words filled the void between you, which only seemed to grow vaster as each moment passed.

You watched as his mouth parted, but nothing came out, his eyes flicking around every inch of you– frantic, nervous– anxious. Anxiety cascaded from the other end of the bond, and you wondered if he could spot the surprise on your features. You had thought all the anxiety you felt this eve was only yours, but it was also nagging him– crushing him, drowning him.

He was still fumbling, breath turning erratic as he tried to say something– anything– but he didn’t know where to start, didn’t know how to approach you when he had left you so shamefully the other morning. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to tell you. But you were looking at him expectantly, and his body was absolutely roaring at him to engulf your smaller figure, to hold you in his embrace and never stray from you again. All while his mind scrambled to select a route forward, weighing between dousing the fire inside that demanded to feel your skin on his, launching into some magical explanation that would justify his horrid actions, and just plainly falling to his knees in repetent woe before you.

His body decided for him. He took one step toward you– expression unchanged, unaware he was even moving– and his knees slammed onto the floor.

The sound of his descent was deafening, and you flinched at the pain that twisted his chiseled face. Somehow you had a feeling it was not from the physical action, rather, the emotional distress he was currently battling. He appeared almost ghostly in the dimly-lit room, skin drained of the usual caramel color that you’d imagined the taste of on many a night.

“I am sorry,” the shadowsinger finally choked out, his voice gravelly and low. He closed his eyes, lips pursed and wavering, then gaze snapping open and fixing you with such intensity you stopped breathing. “I was weak. I never should have run from you. The thought of your suffering– the cause only mine, my cowardice alone…” he couldn’t look at you anymore, and his visage darkened, shadows coming to swirl around his knees as utter shame enveloped him. “I shall regret it every moment, until I draw my last breath. I am sorry… I’m sorry…” he kept repeating it, quieter each time, fists balled on the tile just inches from your feet.

Tears dribbled down your cheeks and gathered at the point of your chin, lips wobbling as you tried to clutch onto the sheer disappointment, the anger that had governed your emotions for the past few days. But the sight of this male– your male– so laden with contrite, his self-hatred overt in the way he was slumped, eyes downcast, wings drooped behind him on the cold tile before you…

It was his sob that finally broke your trance.

The spymaster of the most feared Court in Prythian, perhaps the most feared Illyrian there ever was… he was crying. Fat, salty droplets splashed onto the ground below him, the evidence irrefutable. He was on his knees for you, remorse billowing from his silhouette just as the dark shadows that obeyed him did. You could smell his sorrow, the stench of undiluted regret oozing out of him.

And you could tell, now, what he was thinking, what he was coming to accept as truth as every second passed and he lay before you, vulnerable and guilt-ridden, and you remained in silence, watching him, unmoving; that he had had his chance– the chance he had written off after so many centuries of solitude, and he had been stupid enough to let it– let you– slip right through his fingers. That you would never accept this, and that you would not want him, not give him another chance. That as you stood and took in his pathetic excuse of an apology, his teary groveling, you would decide to reject him. Forsake him to the true fear that chilled his mind as he fell asleep each night, the solitude that he had become far too familiar with, the loneliness he believed he deserved.

You did not speak.

You did not breathe as you sank to your knees, joining his deflated form on the ground.

You did not hesitate as you took his wet jaw in both your hands, closed your eyes, and kissed him.

Azriel stiffened. Long, tear-clumped lashes fluttered as he realized your lips were on his, not really believing you were actually kissing him, after his disgraceful, meager excuse of an apology. But only a small moment passed before he released a soft moan, scarred hands coming to grip your chin and lean into your caress, eyes closing and broad, dark wings fluttering. Breathing life itself back into him. He did not dare to break your kiss, would rather suffocate than part with your delectable mouth, those soft lips he had dreamed of, yearned for.

As he savored your kiss, it felt like he was drugging you, like ecstasy itself was seeping into your body from where he touched you, where his mouth connected with yours. You shivered, legs clamping together. Your body wanted him, wanted its mate, wanted the sweet and addictive feeling that he was providing you with to never end.

But you could not forget the manner he had treated you just days ago. You could not move forth without a clean slate, and you intended to get just that.

He had some explaining to do.

Azriel gasped as you pulled away from him, leaning far forward enough as he trailed your departure that he nearly fell into your lap. Honeyed eyes fluttered open and he blinked away the moisture remaining there, trying to clear the lustful fog that had begun to infiltrate his skull with just a simple kiss from his mate. He whispered your name, a breathless prayer, perhaps not even realizing it had slid from his parted mouth.

His gaze followed you like a magnet as you stood, still not uttering a word, and offered him a hand. You helped him up, though he did not use the appendage you offered as physical support… Which was the sole reason you allowed his hand to remain touching yours as you settled facing each other on the velveteen couch, even if the contact made your thoughts considerably harder to direct toward maintaining conversation.

“So…” you cleared your throat, eyes wandering to the beams of moonlight cast upon the marble floor of the balcony. “You know…”

The shadowsinger sat up, schooling his expression and finding his composure. It would have been perfect, could have fooled even you had you not been able to see how his wings still sagged, feel how his fingers gripped onto yours just a pinch tighter.

“I know,” he replied evenly. “I can feel the bond now. I can feel your pull… feel you on the other side… my mate.”

You couldn’t stifle the shudder that went through you when he nearly growled.

Azriel scrutinized you, surely noting how your crossed legs squeezed together underneath the casual linen dress you’d thrown on for dinner. You didn’t trust either of you enough to stay on course when his gaze sizzled into the soft skin of your exposed thighs, so you forced yourself to speak.

“Why did it take you so long?”

You hadn’t meant to say it, at least, not that bluntly. But you’d spoken without thinking, and the first thing off the top of your head had flown out.

Azriel gave you a pained look, like you’d kicked him square in the chest. “I’m sorry to make you wait,” he murmured, his rough thumb sweeping over your knuckles. “I would never intend to make you wait, I know that waiting can be… arduous. Can feel… eternal.”

It was your turn to squeeze his hand. You’d never know how it felt to be alone, not for as long as he had been at least. He had centuries of seclusion on you— waiting for someone whose existence he had eventually written off. Just two measly weeks had you strung out, you couldn’t imagine how he coped through the years. Not that it was exactly the same, but still, it was worth considering.

“I didn’t mean to sound harsh,” you assured, scooting closer to the male. His shoulder almost brushed yours now, and if he sighed, his exhale would move your hair to tickle your collar bone. “I only wish you would tell me what you were thinking. The morning after, you barely said anything. Just that it was a mistake.”

He bristled. “I never said that.” Every word spoken that dreadful morning had been seared into his brain, looping a thousand times over since the moment he had slipped out your door.

“That’s how I heard it, though.”

Azriel looked at you like you had just stabbed yourself, his handsome face aghast. “Y/N–”

“Do you…” you almost whimpered at the fear that pulsed through your heart at your own question, “Do you think this is a mistake?”

It took all but one second for Azriel to scoop you in his arms and press every inch of your torsos together, large hands coming to grip the base of your head at the back of your neck, forcing you to look at him.

“Never,” he hissed, the mere premise making his gaze darken, his shadows lashing out and crackling through your room, swallowing nearly all light. His expression was downright icy, and had he given you such a look for any other reason, you’d be running, tail between your legs. “Though I found the bond just hours ago,” he continued, “not for one second have I thought that. Nor will I ever.”

Sweet validation trickled into your veins. Coupled with his firm, passionate touch, you were melting in his arms. In his big, strong, tattooed arms.

He must have scented your interest, because his pupils floated back behind his eyelids and he groaned, gripping you harder. He ducked into your throat and traced your jaw with the tip of his nose. Your delicate skin was calling to him to be nipped, sucked, claimed. He could even see the ghost of his claim from the last time, barely purple at the base of your neck. It made him rock-hard beneath his leathers.

But he needed to focus, he would not fail you again. His embrace loosened so that you could easily slip back, but you made no move to withdraw from him.

“You said you wished to know what I was thinking,” he said, finding comfort in the way your soft skin felt against his scarred fingertips. It felt right, even if the sight of his unworthy flesh touching yours nearly made him cringe. “If you’d indulge me… I’d like to give you the full story. My story.”

You nodded, giving him your sweetest, most understanding look. It was a look he had received many times before, a look that had made him spill his guts much more than he was comfortable spilling. But somehow, words would continue to tumble out of him, even when he thought he had nothing left to say. When you would give him your undivided attention, and he felt like you really saw him, through his masks, his hard facade, the enigma behind the shadows… You were the only one to make him feel that way in all his centuries, and it was partly because of that recognition just hours ago that he had realized how precious you were to him. When the bond had snapped into place in the center of his chest, he had hurtled from Windhaven swifter than ever, as fast as he could to get back to you.

Sweet herbs tickled the male’s nose as he took a deep breath in attempt to regain his bearings, the medicinal plants that flourished from various pots and flower boxes at your balcony and windows lacing the heavy air. But even that, coupled with the smell of pungent salves and dusty encyclopedias could not hold a flame to the lingering allure of your fresh, dulcet scent. How he found the strength to speak, he did not know.

“For a long time–” Azriel’s voice shook and he swallowed, rattled by such strong emotion, fighting his instincts to push it down, fighting to tell you his truth. His chin dropped to face your lap. His wide torso was rigid with each forced breath, wings tucked tight along the ridge of his shoulder blades. You could sense his growing impatience– how he despised the silence that prolonged as he continued to fail with words, loathed how they did not come to him as naturally as they did his brothers.

“It’s alright, take your time,” you soothed, fingers gently trailing up and down his ink-bound bicep– trying to calm his body, even if his head was still playing catch-up. “We’re in no rush… I’m yours.”

The admission was an immediate reprieve. You could feel the tension dissipate, his shoulders sagging and breaths becoming deeper, filling his lungs once again. His stubbled cheek came to rest upon your shoulder, and you could see how exhausted this poor male was. It reminded you of how a small child would slump after a crying fit, tuckered from their own distress. Your heart nearly broke as you considered that this could quite possibly be the first time anyone had ever held your mate like that at all. You squeezed him just a little tighter, your lip quivering as you attempted to send a wave of love down the bond, unsure if you were doing it right.

Azriel’s body trembled, a shiver going through him as he received your unbridled affection. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before, and he wanted to feel it again. And again, and again. He squeezed you tightly, refusing to look you in the eye, hoping it would make it just a little easier for him to find the courage to say everything he needed to.

“For a long time now…” he began again, taking another breath before continuing, the words barely audible as he whispered them into your hair. “I’ve been… alone.”

His fingers picked at his nails behind your back, never before saying aloud the words that so often floated through his mind.

“I started life alone. I won’t get into the details of my childhood, if you could call it that… but, eventually I found my brothers. And for a time, I was happy. It was just the three of us, and we were only committed to each other– we kept each other occupied, content, fulfilled. Then, there were bigger things at hand– Amarantha’s rein, the war on Hybern...”

You nodded, your arm snaking up along his front so your fingers could wind into his hair, nails softly scraping at his scalp. He preened at that, welcoming your touch, wings stretching and fluttering before draping down once again, relaxed. His shadows curled at your lap, beckoning you further into his embrace. The sensation was like no other– a cool caress that somehow elicited warmth.

“Even before that was over, my brothers, they– They found their mates.” Azriel paused, wondering how this was going to come across. “And I was happy for them– truly. I was happy they had found a higher purpose, a new priority. I was happy for our family to expand, content to be on the sidelines. But… naturally… I started to feel… alone again. It wasn’t as bad as before, not nearly, and yet– even though I was happy for them– I was jealous, too. Jealous, and— at the end of each day— alone. And every time I attempted to find someone to kill that loneliness… it never worked.”

You tried not to scowl at the mention of his previous lovers. You hadn’t known him then, and yet, the mere thought of your mate lying with another made something malicious stir in your bones, a bitter tang invading your mouth.

Azriel knew, of course, nuzzling your throat, and effectively extinguishing any ill feelings that had attempted to surface.

“So I thought that I was destined to be alone. Forever. It made sense, I knew that continuing to hold out hope that I’d find my mate, that I even had one— after everything I’ve done, and… Really, I had just come to accept my sentence of solitude as fact when out of nowhere you walked into our court and everything I had known– everything I had thought I’d known– changed.”

Your heart throbbed. The memory of your eyes raking over his lean, dark physique for the very first time made your body purr, recalling your immediate approval, cheeks tinged with flush.

“Undoubtedly, I was in denial. At first, I tried to act like there was nothing different about you, tried to treat you as I would any other addition to our little… family. I tried. I tried so fucking hard to act normal around you– and yet– every time you gave me that sweet, pretty smile and your eyes crinkled and you looked at me– really looked at me, looked at me like I was whole, like I was worthy– and there was no fear there, just… unspoken, unearned trust— I… I was falling. I was falling so fast and so hard and I knew it and refused to acknowledge it. Then that night, you walked in looking like a— a goddess— just as you do every time when we go out, but this time… I needed to hide my desire more than ever, so I drank. I had far too many drinks, and then you came to me, you pulled me onto the dance floor. I never– never do that, but with you it didn't feel so wrong, I didn’t feel like I needed to put on that front, that mask, and… and then we were in your room and you were kissing me, I was drunk— drunk on you, and touching you felt like touching pure starlight. I was so desperate to just take it all, take everything you would give me that I–”

Azriel shifted slightly, trousers becoming tighter with the recollection. Your eyes were suddenly glued to the ceiling, inspecting the crown-molding there, a mirage of modesty.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like that. It wasn’t what I wanted our first time together to be like, the first time I told you I loved you to be like.”

You flushed– he remembered. And he’d meant it?

“I had this plan, this… fantasy, I suppose, where I would take you to this meadow by the Sidra and confess, and I would lay you down and worship you, and kiss you ‘til we couldn’t breathe, make love to you ‘til we didn’t know where one started and the other began…”

You crossed your legs again, hoping you were sly. You were making such great progress with the shadowsinger, it would be a shame if your blatant arousal were to distract him from his explanation. You weren’t sure if you would ever hear the rest of it if he stopped now, and you didn’t want to take that risk. Pressing your cheek against his in silent affirmation, your fingertips lightly traced the strong sinews of his back.

“But the morning came and I was terrified. I didn’t expect for that to happen, and when you asked if I meant it, if I meant what I said then, if I regretted what we did… I was a coward. I let fear take over and I ran from you, ran from the truth with such disgrace.”

His voice shook with self-loathing, his arms becoming snug around your waist, as if his body wanted to right the wrong he had committed when he ran, when he should’ve held you close to him and told you, showed you, his true feelings.

It was then that he pulled back, those beautiful hazel eyes peering deep into your gaze. There was so much emotion there, so much pain, and regret, and– and love swimming there. There was so much love in the look he was giving you it took your breath away.

“I am so sorry, Y/N. So, so sorry for doing that to you, for being so stupid. I am sorry for hurting you when I swear all I wanted to do was love you, all I should have done was love you. I am sorry… sorry that you have such a spineless mate. I… don’t deserve you… I don’t think I ever will.” Azriel’s gaze dropped from yours, shame overtaking his face as his morose gaze found the floor. His whole body deflated, arms falling from you as he seemed to find truth in his words.

For the first time in your life, Azriel looked small. The 6’5 spymaster, the shadowsinger, perhaps the most powerful Illyrian male there ever was, looked like he had reverted back into the little boy who was left to rot in his cell. Curled into himself and unacquainted with the touch of a gentle hand, his shadows ebbing into the perimeter of his silhouette, his shame and despair near swallowing him.

You lunged for him, throwing yourself into his lap, legs around his waist, arms around his neck. He let out a low huff at the action, hands stuck in midair as he tried to process what you were doing.

“Don’t you ever say that,” you said, voice hard as steel.

Azriel stiffened at your tone, not daring to say another word.

You couldn’t contain the telltale shake of your lungs as you tried to squash your sob, arms wringing tighter around him. “Don’t ever think that,” you cried, wetness hitting the tops of his broad shoulders as tears escaped you. It was impossible to hold it in, the thought of your mate thinking so little of himself upsetting you to the very core. “Please, Az.”

His body finally allowed him to squeeze you back, his embrace anchoring onto you as he realized you wholeheartedly disagreed with his doubts.

“You deserve so much baby,” you said, and sweet pleasure shot through him at the debut of your first pet name for him. “You deserve so much love and I can’t wait to be the one to give it to you.”

You kissed him then and tears gathered along the long, dark lashes that fluttered shut on the sharp plain of his cheeks. Your lips felt so right on his, the kiss desperate and rough but it was everything, conveying just how much you wanted to wash away his pain. You were kissing him, you were kissing him after all he had put you through and you were wrapped around him, in his arms, flush against him. His heart was pounding against his ribs, ready to explode. If he died at this moment it wouldn’t be all that bad.

It was over much too quickly, his mouth trailing after yours when you retreated, your hands coming up to press on the wide, firm pectorals that lay just a layer of leather away. You mirrored each other– panting, tears dripping down both your faces– and he was looking at you like you were the sun, and the moon, and all the stars that glittered in the Night Court sky.

“Don’t ever apologize for how you feel,” you said quietly, looking into his gaze to make sure your words hit home. He nodded barely, eyes still wide and starry. His thumbs came to brush away the wetness littering your cheeks. “Especially not for being scared. Az, fear is part of being alive. I… I was scared too.”

Azriel rushed out another meek apology then, realizing that when you had confronted him that morning, you were probably just as terrified as him. And he had confirmed your fears, he had left you there, breaking and alone. He vowed to himself never to do that to you again.

You hushed him, drying his tears then, “I know. I know, Az. I forgive you, it’s okay.” You took his chiseled jaw in your hand and he leaned into your caress, eyes full of remorse. “The next time you get scared, though, I want you to tell me. I want you to come to me and tell me because if we are going to be together, we face everything together. I know that might be scary, because you’re used to handling things by yourself, but… I’m your mate, Azriel. We are meant to be together and that means we have to communicate and work together, find resolutions together.”

The inky-haired male nodded, eyes sincere and hands firm on your hips. “I can do that,” he confirmed, thinking of how you held him just moments earlier, allowed him to settle down and find his words, how they just started flowing when he had you in front of him, your comforting touch goading them out. He could talk about his feelings if you were the one listening, if you gave him time and support like you had today. “Does that mean… you’ll give me a chance?”

You fell quiet, taking in the man bearing himself before you. In all your time of knowing the Illyrian, you had never seen this side of him so clearly. Here he was; beating heart out in the open, gaze full of pure, untainted love and hope, and promise– promise to love you, and cherish you, kneel to you, give you anything, everything, all of him.

“Of course, Azriel… I love you,” you admitted, watching as a gleaming smile split his lips. He’d never shown you such unbridled joy before— it shook you to your core and you suddenly had the urge to elicit such mirth from the male every chance you could get. “We’re supposed to be together, after all.”

The bond glowed and your chest felt hot at the admission, warmth seeping into your cheeks as scarred hands slid up your sides. His grin faded as his gaze fell to your lips, hunger swirling in those beautiful hazel orbs. “I love you,” he said, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I have loved you for so long, now… This is…,” he kissed the other corner, taking a deep breath and admiring the smell of your skin, “You are unreal.”

Your lips silently parted as he dipped lower, warm mouth skimming down the column of your throat. He traced the mark that still lingered from his efforts the other night, inspecting how the purple melted away into your beautiful skin.

You nearly screamed at him when he pulled back, body desperate for his embrace.

He smirked slightly, seemingly back to the quick-witted spymaster you’d fallen for. Perhaps he could tell just how much you wanted him through the bond— even if technically you had not mated yet. He seemed to share your pain, though— you shifted in his lap and felt the thick length of him beneath you, blood rushing to your cheeks.

“As much as I would enjoy ravishing you immediately,” Azriel said with a twinkle in his eye, “I would request your approval for a short intermission… I would like to… prepare a few things for us.”

Your heart swelled at the thought. Your male wanted to make things perfect— to right the wrongs that had been made before. Besides, you had to find something to feed him so you could play your role, anyway. The thought of completely mating with him made you salivate, gaze flickering over his tanned physique.

“Okay,” you agreed, “just— don’t be long.”

Azriel chuckled and nodded. “Give me twenty minutes, my love.”

He slid you from his lap, your bottom hitting the plush velvet of the sofa once again. The pet name made butterflies unleash in your stomach, and something dark and lustful swirl in your core. “Don’t keep me waiting too long, shadowsinger,” you teased, finger trailing down his jaw.

“I’ll make it ten,” he growled, nipping at the digit before his shadows gathered around him and he vanished from your room.

–

True to his word, your mate appeared on your balcony ten minutes later.

Azriel was not at all out of breath, an even calm precisely conjured on his handsome face. His gaze devoured you as you walked over to him, eyeing the small pouch you had slung over your shoulder with intrigue. Little did he know that he would find things much more interesting beneath your linen dress… a disguise of your own.

Large, warm hands found your hips as you seamlessly slid into his open arms. It felt so cozy being flush against your male’s firm chest, his capable arms fastening you into him as his shadows wrapped around the both of you. You laughed as they stroked your cheeks, playing with the ends of your hair and distracting you as they carried the two of you to wherever your destination may be.

The shadowsinger smiled fondly at the sight– you, his beautiful, ethereal mate giggling happily, and his shadows, absolutely as infatuated with you as he was himself.

Just like that, you had arrived.

The shadows snuck away into the whispering blades of grass that washed your calves, moonlight pouring out into the open field without restraint. Tall, spindly trees dotted the far corners of the meadow, and milky wildflowers dotted every inch of the grass around you, mixing a sweet tinge into the otherwise pleasant summer breeze. The spot you were standing in was on a small summit overlooking the mouth of the Sidra, emptying into the star-sparkled sea. The sight of such gorgeous, natural scenery took your breath away.

“Gods,” you breathed, attempting to let the glory of it soak in. “This view… it’s… beautiful.”

Azriel stood quietly behind you, observing your wonder as a shadow climbed up his leg and deposited a particularly perfect wildflower into his hand. “Exquisite,” he concurred, admiring the way the moonlight lit your pretty face.

You turned to him and he smiled, tucking the blossom behind your ear, caressing the corner of your face. You were almost lost in the warm emotion that glowed in his eyes, but flickering lights behind him captured your attention.

A picnic of sorts laid ready on the grass there, a large, thick duvet covering ample room beneath the sole tree that dared to break the sanctity of the meadow, right at the highest point of the cliff. An array of fluffy throws and plush pillows sat in a pile on one side, candles winking with charmed flame.

“Oh, Azriel…” you murmured, taking a step around his tall figure and studying what would surely be your mating bed. It was just as you had pictured it, even as brief as his mention of his fantasy had been. “This is…” you glanced back at him, noting the way the male almost appeared bashful at your awe, “... perfect.”

He smiled at your approval, meeting you at the edge of the blanket. “You are perfect,” he said, honesty swimming in his gaze. Warmth crawled through your veins as his hands circled your waist, pulling you against him. You went without a fight, allowing him to hold you up when your legs nearly gave out at his proximity. “You are…” a kiss to your jaw, greedily inhaling your scent, “... pure…” a kiss to your neck, a taste of your skin, “... perfection.”

You fell backwards then, prepared to hit the ground, but your mate would never allow it. With a strong flap of his wings, Azriel cushioned the fall, and you gently met the plushness beneath you, with him braced on top of you, lips nibbling your clavicle.

His name floated from your mouth, heat once again gathering between your legs. It was unfair how visibly hot he was– ruffled, onyx hair falling into his scorching golden eyes, plush, pouty lip bitten as he examined you beneath him, his hard, wide body so strong, unwavering, as if he could maintain this push-up position without tire, effortlessly. You wondered just what his body was capable of, exactly…

The scent of your curiosity wafted onto him and he smirked, taking a long whiff of it. He looked at you, sin dancing in that amused gaze. “Please tell me you brought something for me to eat,” he said, voice gruff. It seemed he was wearing thin on patience, too. His eyes darted down to the spot between your legs, then back to you with a wicked glint. “Besides that delectable little cunt of yours, I mean.” Yep– definitely low on patience.

Flames nearly danced across your cheeks, shocked at the foul mouth that had suddenly appeared on him. You let your jaw drop for a few seconds, watching the clear amusement in his features before you fumbled for the small bag you had brought with you.

Honey irises analyzed your hand as it disappeared inside, then locking onto the small confection that your resurfaced palm offered. It was then that his form trembled above you, as if the reality of the situation was just now hitting him. He swallowed, breathing hard. The two of you moved upright in unison, sitting facing each other with your thighs barely touching. His gaze was fire on the tiny treat in your hand, so intense you half expected it to ignite and disintegrate, float away into the wind.

Stretching your arms out now, you cupped the piece of cake with both palms, pushing it toward your male. Emotion flooded his face then, as he looked between you and your offering, scarred fingers clenched into the leathers covering his strapping thighs. “For you, Azriel,” you whispered, heart beating loudly, battering your ribs. “My body, my heart… They are yours. I give myself to you… my mate.”

You looked at him and truly felt weightless as he grinned at you, bright teeth showing and syrupy gaze regarding you. Weathered hands enveloped yours, dwarfing them, bringing the comically small cake to his lips. His eyes did not leave yours as he made quick work of the sweet– one, two bites and he swallowed. You watched, entranced as his tongue ran along the seam of his mouth, gathering up the bit of frosting that had escaped there.

When your gaze finally met his again, you nearly moaned.

Something savage lurked in his eye now, a hunger that he had not known he could possess overtaking every instinct of his. Gone was the charade of indifference, gone were the measured looks and the disguised longing. Everything was outright now, everything was written right there on his face. He couldn’t pretend any longer, not when you had just professed yourself as his, his mate. Not when you had proclaimed yourself as his, not when you had just accepted your bond. He pounced.

Within sheer seconds, you were on your back, Azriel’s mouth claiming yours. His lips dominated yours, hands scouring the contours of your curves. The sugary taste of the cake invaded your mouth as his tongue took command of yours, swirling together in a rugged dance, slick with spit and lust. The feeling of his body brushing against yours sent your eyes rolling back, the hardness of his body paired with the hardness along his thigh overwhelming you.

You wanted him so bad– and knowing the desire was mutual made your insides twist, your heart thrumming. As if he could read your exact thoughts, your mate pushed his erection against the soft spot between your legs, your flimsy dress pushing up to gather around your hips.

Azriel snarled, lips finally breaking from yours as he caught sight of the navy bit of lace covering your most intimate parts. You gasped, hips bucking up to catch against his clothed cock again, displaying more of the scandalous lingerie to your male. He groaned, throwing his head back, unbelieving you were really his, that you would allow him to do as he pleased to your dreamy body.

You moaned into each other’s mouths as he leaned down to kiss you again, scarred hands coming to sink into both your ass cheeks, pulling them apart to swallow more sparkling lace. The cloth felt tight against your slickening pussy, his movement making you clench with trepidation. The aroma of your arousal mixed with his and weighed heavy in the air, intoxicating you with every breath. He smelled musky, woodsy cedar and night-chilled mist turned darker, more potent and alluring– easily your new favorite scent.

The shadowsinger pulled back to catch his breath, gaze raking over your body. Deft fingers moved to undo the buckles and straps across his chest, the leathers falling off to gather on the ground behind him. Your mouth watered as you took in the tanned skin of his broad chest. Tattoos flourished all along his sides, bleeding into the broad planes of muscle on his pecs and shackling his toned biceps and forearms. You reached up and traced a ghostly white scar trailing down his abdomen, following it down to the thin trail that disappeared beneath the waist of his pants. Your male flexed for you, savoring the blatant approval in your gaze, the tease of your fingernails on his caramel complexion.

A yelp of surprise sounded from you when he summoned his shadows, a smirk on those pink, full lips that were slightly bruised from your kiss. You could only watch as the murky shadows washed over your dress then, and in their wake, your naked skin was revealed to your mate’s frenzied gaze, his blue siphons glowing with the subtle use of his magic. Your strappy, lacy lingerie set was exposed entirely now, and heat rose to your cheeks as you watched him take in your body, searing the image into his brain.

Thick fingers landed on your ribs and you flinched as they trailed upwards, his hand cupping one of your breasts through the thin mesh and thumbing over the intricate embroidery there. Mere seconds passed before both your nipples were stiff and aching for his attention.

“Az,” you cried as he pulled the lace down and your breast spilled out, his tongue immediately greeting the hard bud and sucking it into his mouth. His other hand came to massage the other side of your chest, pinching the nipple between two fingers through the mesh. Small noises of pleasure slithered out of you naturally, broken gasps and whines spilling from your lips without thought.

Azriel swore, gently biting at you and marveling at how your spine bowed for him. He flattened his tongue against you and kissed your soft skin, tugging the lingerie down to lay across your ribs, exposing your chest to him. He sucked marks into the heavy underside of both your tits, taking his time. One hand came to hold your thighs open and squeeze the plush flesh there, trimmed fingernails digging into you in a delightful ghost of pain.

Your hand flew out on its own accord, knowing exactly where to go and gripping onto the base of his thick, hard cock. The Illyrian gasped, the sound eliciting a criminal thrill from deep within you. You squeezed him through his leathers, and he bared his teeth at you, scraping them over your chest.

Even though you had technically already been acquainted with each other’s body, this felt different– new. It was as if… every touch, you could feel the pleasure from both ends of the bond; that much more heightened.

Abruptly he slid south, leaving you panting, your touch lost from his throbbing length. He did not waste time; immediately placing his mouth on the inside of your thigh and bruising the skin there with ease. He sucked hard, teeth marrying your flesh while you cried for him. He closed his eyes as your fingers wove into his hair, mouthing over the scrap of cloth that covered your weeping cunt, sampling the sweet nectar that leaked from you, just for him.

Words eluded you, pure pleasure pulsing through every inch of you as he pulled the material to the side and licked through your folds. He groaned, the noise vibrating through your wetness before he dove in, sucking you into his mouth and laving his tongue up and down your slit– up your clit, then back down and twirling your quivering hole, then repeating.

You whimpered when you took in the sight of your large male, completely worshiping you and enjoying every second of it– he was rutting his leather-bound cock against a pillow he had trapped beneath his hips, dark wings looming over his shoulders as they twitched with excitement. You made eye contact with him and there was primality in his gaze as he consumed you. Your feet hooked over his shoulders, putting your pussy right onto his face and bucking your hips, not caring if you missed his mouth.

Azriel moaned, loving the provocative spiral you were descending into, loving that he was able to be the one to take you there. He was so focused on working his tongue against you that he didn’t register your feet wandering up to the crest of his wings, not until your toes dragged down the sensitive skin there and he whimpered into your pussy, his entirety trembling. He sat back to softly snarl at you– no one had touched his wings since… ever. It was a boundary he did not know he so desperately wanted you to break, satisfaction leaking deep into his core.

But he didn’t have a second to spare to question it, because you were throwing your head back and whining, begging, “Please don’t stop, Az.”

So he didn’t. He put his head down and ate your cunt mercilessly, just like you’d requested, savoring every drop of your essence. You allowed yourself to be lost in the pleasure, head tilting back and exposing your throat to the night sky. You opened your eyes and took in the sight of the upside-down sea, stars twinkling brightly in your entire field of vision, your male relishing your taste as he eagerly worked for your pleasure.

Your body spasmed when two thick fingertips wandered up your thigh and prodded your sopping entrance. One slid in with ease and your eyes widened at the stretch– equal to at least two of your own digits. However, unlike yours, his finger reached deep, curling into a sensitive spot that had you shaking, as if he had a map and could follow directions with immediate mastery. You tried to moan his name but he stole the breath from you, a second finger pushing in and his tongue returning to your swollen clit. His calloused fingertips stroked that spot as he pumped them into you with hard, slow precision, curling as they disappeared all the way inside and making your eyes cross beneath your lids.

You couldn’t even focus on touching his wings to extract more delicious moans from him, your brain melting and the inferno growing in your belly. Fingers gripped his soft black hair with urgency, the shake of your thighs around his head worsening as you pleaded, moaned, and cried, “Oh Gods– oh, fuck– yes!”

Just as you were teetering the cusp of an orgasm, the shadowsinger pulled back. You screamed a swear, shooting up onto your elbows and sending the male a glare full of betrayal. Your mate only smirked up at you, though he himself was panting, gaze laden with lust. He wiped the bottom of his face from the sheen of slick that blanketed it with the back of his strong forearm, then gave his bronze, inked skin a long lick as he held your gaze. Right when you were about to give him a piece of your– albeit melted– mind, nimble fingers went to undo the clasp of his leathers beneath his toned stomach.

Words died in your mouth as you followed the revealed lines of his pronounced Adonis belt, his fingers pushing the clothing right down his middle, just over that dark, fine trail that led down, down, down… Until the hard, dark length of him popped out from its confines and you could nearly guarantee your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. You barely noted the shadows that removed the rest of his clothes, looking over your mate in all his naked glory before you.

Azriel did not shy away from your gawking, enjoying how your eyes roved over every inch of him– examining his body, then his manhood, then somewhere else, but always returning to his sizable cock standing tall and proud before you. In all his centuries, it was the one part of him that he had been able to take undeniable pride in… he loved that he was able to bring that to the table for you. Partly because he knew how good he could make you feel, but also just so that he could garner such a reaction from you.

You were only able to tear your eyes away from your mate when his shadows came to swirl across your body again, devouring the remaining lace and mesh until you, too, were completely bare before your mate. The thought made you just a bit self-conscious, but the look Azriel was giving you made your insides burn, approval pounding down the bond. The bond that would– in just a matter of minutes– be completely forged.

Your male moved toward you and you sat up on your elbows, breasts sitting perfectly for him to admire. He came nearer, leaning down onto his hands and knees, his half-lidded gaze scanning your lips before he looked at you again, pure desire in his eyes.

At this point, your wetness was dripping down your thighs, and you knew that nothing but his cock could alleviate the burning in your core. Reaching a tentative hand forward, you both watched as your fingers clasped around his width, your fingertips and your thumb just touching. You swallowed at the sheer size of him, thumbing over the rosy tip where his precum had begun to leak out of him.

Azriel let out a harsh breath, his hips stuttering as you jerked him experimentally. The sight of your little hand wrapped around his tan, solid cock had him biting his lip, a soft growl rumbling in the depths of his chest. You ran a finger down the thick vein spanning the underside of him, and when his length jerked in response, you moaned– imagining how it would feel doing so, while buried balls-deep inside of you.

You tried to wiggle down the satin comforter so you could get a taste of that heavenly cock, but Azriel pinned your body down with his, the sheer size of him dominating your movement effortlessly. Ecstasy shot through you at the amount of golden skin pressing against you, the contact unlike anything you’d experienced before.

“Dirty girl, trying to suck my cock…,” he crooned, molten gaze like hot molasses on your face. You could feel every inch he studied of your naked skin, the wake of it slow and burning, singing from his inspection and the brazen approval that shot down the bond.

You huffed indignantly, wanting to quiz why he could taste you, but would not allow you the same pleasure.

The Illyrian hummed, detecting the fight in your eye, before he skimmed his hand down your front, fingers dipping into the evidence of your desire and swirling against your opening slowly. “If you put your mouth on my cock– Cauldron boil me, I’ll come right down your throat,” he murmured, spreading your slick onto every crevice of your core. “And though I may indulge in that later… right now, ‘m too keen to feel your pretty pussy on me.”

His admission naturally made your legs spread, his heavy cock resting just inches from your entrance, huge and glistening, calling to you. “Please,” you whimpered pitifully, embarrassment licking your cheeks. Was he going to make you beg for him? You could barely stand the wait, your core pulsing with the need to be taken by him, by your mate.

“Would you like that, angel? You want to have my cock inside of you? My greedy little mate…” he purred, eyelids heavy with lust.

You panted, realizing your truest desire then, summoning all your strength to give him your sweetest doe eyes, meekly squeak out, “I’m all yours, please I need it– need your cock stretching my– my pussy out. Need you, need my mate.”

Hazel caught aflame in the depths of his measured disguise. His chiseled body was still, taut with suspense, and then he snapped as he pinned your wrists to the duvet beside your head. Muscled thighs flicked yours open to land around his waist with ease, your primal, Illyrian male settling into his rightful place between them. Your hips lifted in a feeble attempt to coax him further, figure shaking with need– your core aching, twitching with it.

There was something feral about his groan as the warm underside of his tip slipped between your folds. You both watched, his length slicing through the slick dripping from your cunt. The sound of it was so erotic that you nearly came, eyes rolling back as the entirety of him just went on and on.

You couldn’t think– couldn’t bear it anymore as you pleaded, “Please, Azriel, I need you.”

Billowing navy shadows crawled onto the duvet then, and you gaped as the tendrils washed across your hips, twirling around his cock and guiding it perfectly to your entrance.

Tossing your head back into the satin pillow, you cried, overwhelmed when he sheathed inside of you like a blistering knife through warm butter– effortless. He was so– so big, but it did not hurt, not badly anyway– it was… it was transforming the way your pussy took him like lock and key; an indescribably, irrefutably perfect fit.

Azriel seemed to be sharing the sentiment, panting as he stared at you, his knuckles turned pale around your wrists. “Y/N,” he choked, his whole body shuddering at the bliss that leaked through his bones, emanating from where your body swallowed his, “I love you.”

You shared a shallow gasp when he pulled out, watching with a long moan as he pushed back in, reaching deeper into your core, your soul. You cried, clenching onto him as your heart felt like it was about to burst. “Az, I– I love you, too. I love you, Azriel.”

He didn’t have to think; his body knew exactly what you both needed. Another couple shallow thrusts had you breathless, struggling against his grip as his cock dragged against your fluttering walls. The girth of him was breaking your mind– each time your body involuntarily clenched onto his cock, the most sensitive, deepest part of you rubbed against the very tip of him, sending waves of bliss down your spine.

“Gods–” you managed to gasp out as he dropped down onto an elbow, hands sliding to secure around the back of your neck and your waist. His hips began to find their rhythm, heavy balls slapping flush against your ass.

Your heart, your pussy, they had both never been so full– almost aglow with the passion and validation they were both being showered with. You felt like you were whole, like there was no room in your body for any anxiety, nor torment, nothing but him.

Even as the cool summer breeze tickled your skin, everything was warm. Your cheeks, your breasts, your stomach, your thighs– everywhere he had kissed and licked burned with the memory. And he burned, too, his skin ablaze beneath your fingertips that scratched into broad shoulders. The both of you were on fire as your bodies became one, sweat dripping and skin bruising. The shadowsinger held a steady pace, sheathing so deep that the lewd sound of your skins slapping together filled the otherwise sleepy meadow– along with your chorus of moans, of course.

Tension collected in your core with each powerful thrust, your toes curling into the satin and tears dotting your lashes. His fingers gripped the hair at the nape of your neck and you whined as you met his intense gaze. You didn’t have to speak– the bond was throbbing in both your chests, on the precipice of complete formation– radiating warmth and love and passion into both your systems. He gave you his cock and his heart and you took it, cunt wringing tighter– tighter with every swing of those strong hips against yours, giving every piece of you to him in exchange.

A muffled noise left you as that telltale feeling in your center heightened, your mate gasping, hips faltering and abs straining, wings flapping. You both tensed, fingers digging into one another, foreheads pressed together as you breathed simultaneously–

“I’m–”

“Coming–”

And that band in your stomachs snapped, satisfaction imploding and euphoria surging in its wake. The bond rippled through you both and intensified everything, the edges of your minds reaching out and coiling together.

You felt him, felt Azriel, your mate, there inside your head, your heart. His ecstasy ebbed into yours and you drowned in the expanse of it, milking his cock as though your life depended on it. And he, too, was lost in the throes of your orgasms, his cock shooting ribbon after ribbon of his sweet seed into the depths of your womb, moaning and shaking as he grappled onto you, filling your core to the brim with him.

It took a long while for the pair of you to cease your uncontrollable trembling, your breathing still ragged and your head cloudy with the haze of lust, bliss, and a new mental connection poking you, inspecting. Azriel slowly moved to lay on his side, allowing the breeze to cool your sweat-slicked skins as he held you flush against him, still inside of you.

Ink appeared glossy in the starlight on his caramel skin, and you traced the swirls that intertwined on his chest while studying him. You reached out in your mind, a hand waving through the murky darkness, searching, following the guide of the golden, glowing thread– and there was his scarred, rough hand grasping you and sending a dose of affection right into you. You sighed softly, shivering and clutching onto your mate. Azriel made a comparable noise of content, kissing the top of your head and wrapping a massive wing around the pair of you.

Hi, you tested, thinking the word with utmost concentration.

Your mate chuckled, the low rumble vibrating against your head. Hello, my love, was his lazy reply. Rough fingertips coasted along the knobs of your spine, his foot curling around yours, wanting to be as close as possible.

You nuzzled into his strong neck, admiring how his strong, male scent now was slightly perfumed with yours, knowing that though now it was reeking because of your sex, once you washed, it would remain– mated. You hummed, placing an open-mouth kiss there, eying where you should place your next love bite. The considerable army of them you had already created made you smirk and your cunt clench onto his cock, eyes widening.

…You’re still hard?

Another chuckle.

Did you think we were finished?

Heat crept back into your cheeks. You thought about all the mated couples you’d come to know, and how they all blushed and fondly recalled the… frenzy.

I suppose we have a long night ahead of us, shadowsinger…

Azriel pulled back to look at you, many emotions flickering in those honeyed eyes as he appraised you. The love in them was outright, happiness overt, and desire overwhelming.

You don’t even know, angel. We have a very long night ahead of us… after that, a long, ravenous week, and… after that… Well, let’s just say, I plan to ravish you for as long as you will have me.

Your smirk melted into a smile, planting a kiss on his stubbled cheek, then reaching out and trailing your nails over the sensitive membrane of his wing. Your mate shuddered, cock jolting and stirring your insides.

You do have some time to make up for, you shot him a sensuous wink, taking him by surprise and rolling him onto his back, perched on his lap. You savored the sight of your devastatingly-handsome mate beneath you, Azriel’s torrid gaze devouring your visage from below. Though I can’t let you have all the fun.

Heavy hands found your hips and squeezed, that signature smirk coming to rest on his lips once more. You jumped as cool tendrils of shadow flooded your limbs, clasping onto you and dragging you off of him, forcing your body to bend onto your hands and knees, giving him a perfect view of his cum dripping from your pussy and down your soft thigh. The shadows seemed to laugh in your ear as they took hold of you, rendering you immobile before your male. You could only watch as they turned your head to look at him over your shoulder.

Azriel grinned, savage gaze glimmering with mischief as the tickle of darkness flicked over your nipples and parted your legs, wandering up in ghostly licks to stroke and tease your exposed cunt. Your jaw dropped as you realized you had no clue of the true extent of your filthy mate’s capabilities, not at all as his shadows snuck inside of you, exploring where his cock had just been.

Don’t worry, my pretty girl… I know how to share…

𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘤 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘦𝘮𝘉𝘈𝘙𝘙𝘈𝘚𝘚𝘌𝘋 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘮𝘨. 𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪-𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 <3

#azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel x reader #azriel smut #azriel fluff #azriel angst #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar fanfiction #acotar angst #acotar smut #acotar fluff #azriel shadowsinger #angelshadowsinger #StBT series

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moronkombat · 6 months

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Can you pls write Syzoth going down on reader with his long ass tongue

You loved your boyfriend. He a sweet and tender lover to you and knew how you make you the happiest person in all the realms. So grateful you were to have met him when you did and he grateful too. The two of you made quite the adorable couple, didn't you? Even now as you lay with your back arched and raised, your eyes rolling into your skull...yes Syzoth found you particular cute like this.

If only he could tell you just how sweet you looked writhing under him but his mouth already so busy tasting you. Lips move against you, mimicking a kiss to a...different type of lips. Hot breath pants against you, your taste leading him further into intoxication. It won't be long now until this shapeshifter completely drowns himself into a drunken stupor.

Teeth snag onto your thigh and you lurch and gasp for breath. Soft lips drag over where teeth have left their mark, an apology? Perhaps. You don't have the moment to think on it as his mouth is upon you again, taking so much of your mind away from you. What will sanity will he leave behind for you to grasp at?

Not much as it turns out. His lips are not alone in their pursuit for your undoing. Something has joined them, something wet, something long. What is this? A forked tip flickers over where you see stars and you cry out his name.

Syzoth merely groans and digs his nails into your fleshy thighs deeper and deeper. Your plea for him goes unanswered, it is his tongue that will command you now. Longer and longer it gets, wrapping around your thigh and squeezing the plush of your skin. Fingers spread you apart, breaking apart the last defense you had left.

There will be no mercy now. Not when his tongue begins its descent into your begging and wanting core. The bend of your back...how beautiful it is...Your hips lifting off from the bed but he will not let you escape. Rough hands force them back into place and a curled tongue twirls in tantalizing circles. He feels all of you, each and every bit of your quivering insides are his to feast upon.

Your words have transformed into mewling and pathetic sounds of desperation and release. You feel his face to pressed up against you there, his nose poking and prodding as he turns his head from side to side. His tongue mimics this, exploring inside you from left to right, up and down. Cheeks are stained now, damp and red from the overwhelming sense of destruction.

Colors begin to flash before your eyes, colors you have never seen before dance and spin. They surround you just as his tongue consumes you. There it moves again and again around where you cannot possibly resist. Stars burst, colors shine and your orgasm travels through every single little bit of you.

Both of you are panting now, both of you are shaking. He stares at you but your eyes are too lost in the rapture he created. Syzoth tilts his head oh so curiously.

"If you think I'm finished with you, think again"

You have no sense to think anymore. It would appear he taken that from you. Though, you didn't mind. Not when his tongue delves into you once more

#mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat fanworks #mortal kombat headcanons #mk1 #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat smut #syzoth #syzoth smut #syzoth x reader #syzoth x you #mk reptile

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serpenlupus · 2 months

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About Wyll and his horns

Let's say I was writing a part of my Tav's story with Wyll directly connected to the dialogue he has during the tiefling party, and while struggling with this bit, I've realized there's quite a few misconceptions floating around. I felt compelled to add information to the table that might clear them, so here we go.

First, what exactly happens to Wyll when he disobeys Mizora in act one? Well, he doesn't get turned into a devil, he certainly doesn't get turned into a tiefling, he's not a half fiend, not a demon, none of that. Wyll stays human, but he has horns and red eyes (and other features we can't see on his model as of now).

(Everyone has their race listed, Wyll's remains "Human")

This is because when a warlock fails to uphold some part of their contract they can suffer a certain number of consequences, Wylls is “The character grows horns, a tail, or some other devilish features that can't be removed by any means short of divine intervention. As long as these marks persist the character detects as a fiend when subjected to Detect Evil and Good spells or similar magic.” ( from Baldur's Gate: Descent into Avernus, page 214)

And I’ve come across some people that think it wasn’t so bad of a punishment, that he was being racist towards the tieflings, or just not being justified in being upset after having his body forcibly changed against his will. I think they are missunderstanding just how insidious Mizora’s actions were, and here I just want to give some context to maybe bring a better understanding to the situation. Your conclusions are up to you.

Gonna start by using a not exact analogy, but I think it’s going to make the explanation easier. Stick with me for a minute.

Remember Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean? He had a branded “P” on his arm that marked him as a pirate. A murderer, robber, criminal, etc. in the eyes of the society he was a part of. What did Jack do to earn the branding? (if you don’t know this I suggest you look up the “people aren’t cargo mate” scene) He refused to transport slaves and later freed them, and Beckett had him marked as punishment.

Then, in the first movie, he saves Elizabeth, a woman he didn’t know, from drowning. Right after however, when Norrington sees he has a branded “P”, he’s like “alright, off to jail with you, and then hanging”, no other option crosses his mind. Again, Jack doesn’t know Elizabeth, isn’t indicated to think he is going to be rewarded for helping her, he just sees a drowning person, sees that no one else is going to help, and chooses to save them. That is a pretty selfless/good aligned thing to do, for no other reason that he was the one able to do it, yet the branding in his arm overrides any good action he could ever do, marking him as a criminal for execution and no further thought.

In a way, that’s what Mizora did to Wyll; she forever visibly branded him as someone that has made deals with devils, and that in the world of DnD is a VERY BAD THING. Personally I really like the mod that gives him more devilish features, but at the same time I think there was something clever about choosing to leave him looking more human. He can’t be confused with a tiefling, he doesn’t have the ears, the claws, the tail, all those features that characterize them. He looks kind of uncanny, and that would be like a red flag for anyone in that world. (Beyond the already existing hate for tieflings that I’m not gonna tackle on here because it’s a complicated thing that deserves its own post). And Wyll wants to do good, he wants to help people, to be a positive force in the world so, so badly. This dude got abducted by a nautiloid, got tadpole’d, and the first thing he did right after that was come across the Tiefling refugees and be like “Oh you need help? No worries let me teach you self defense. Oh you being attacked by goblins? Let me blast them real quick”. His way of saying fuck you to all the awful things that have happened to him is being aggressively good and kind. Mizora knows this very well, wants to see him suffer for her amusement, wants to remind him he can't escape her claws, so her choice of punishment was to forever taint his future interactions with mistrust and suspicion. Some people can go real fast from “oh thank God they saved me” to “oh no, are they gonna rob me, are they trying to trick me, are they in cahoots with the ones that attacked me first?” just because of outward appearances. Especially in DnD world. And that deserves its own conversation, but we're focusing on Wyll here.

(Mizora, when I catch you Mizora)

“Well, maybe he shouldn’t have made a deal in the first plac- - “ He was seventeen, alone, preyed upon by Mizora and put in an impossible situation. Please PAY ATTENTION to the story you’re witnesing.

Anyway.

About the tieflings. I know it’s easy to think his words can be derisive towards them, but it’s less about the horns and more about his body being changed against his will. Imagine instead that he got half his face burned, or something that disfigured him. I think his feelings at the moment were closer to that, and yeah they are pretty insensitive words to say to someone with a similar condition (horns or disfiguration), but when feelings are fresh and raw like that it’s easy to say insensitive things. Not saying it was ok for him to say those things, but ther was no malice in his words. I’ve also seen some people share that they think Mizora wanted to change him more to make him unrecognizable to his original self, the Wyll Ravenguard kid, and I think there is some truth to that too. She wants to make sure that Wyll remembers that he belongs to her, there's no question to that.

(MIZORA, WHEN I CATCH YOU MIZORA)

Whether the Tieflings refugees would feel unsettled by Wyll or not? Yes. In a way, they would. From reasons aside from the ones I explained above, remember that these specific tieflings come from Elturel. If you didn’t pass the History check or don’t remember, Elturel is a city that was literally ripped from the land and dragged to Avernus, First layer of hell (it left a hole on the ground and everything) because their mayor made a deal with the Archdevil Zariel some decades back in the timeline. He sold the souls of all its citizens and the city itself.

This was probably one of the worst times of their lives. Some even got captured and forced to participate in the blood War, like Dammon as a mechanic. And after Elturel got returned to the surface, the tieflings lost their homes because they reminded the other citizens of the literal Hell they’d just gone through, and they kicked them out. And remember, they met and saw Wyll as a human, and then saw him with horns. It’s not unreasonable to think that by looking at him they would be reminded of all the events that led them to the awful situation they’re in. Because of someone that was making deals with devils, just like Wyll. Even if his situation is completely different. And Wyll knows that, that’s why he tells you the tieflings are unsettled by him and chooses to stay away during the party.

It was never just about the horns.

And I know Wyll calls himself a devil but I think it’s because it’s the closest thing he looks as; devils are a whole different race with their own intricacies, although humans can be turned into devils ONCE their souls go to Avernus and they start climbing the power hierarchy there (Mizora and Raphael are cambions/ half-devils btw, which is a different thing, there are plenty of videos exploring those details more in depth).

Do I think Larian should have made some of this information clearer/easier to access? Maybe? but to be fair, it's a game focused and dedicated to a crowd that was already somewhat familiar with the source material, that blew up waay out of what they originally expected to reach. Hopefully they’ll add some clarifications like they did to other quests.

Anyway these are my two cents to the conversation, have a nice day, and don't hesitate to add your two cents if you feel like it!

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huramuna · 1 month

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even in undeath - chapter 1.

lich king aemond x reader a 'world of warcraft' AU. prev | next

The Lich King is the master and lord of the Scourge. Consisting of thousands of walking corpses, disembodied spirits, beasts of the north, and damned mortal men, the Scourge is a terrifying and insidious enemy.

word count: 2.3k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, DUBCON, smut, heavy heavy angst, graphic depictions of violence, allusions to cannibalism, imprisonment, kidnapping, murder, suicidal thoughts and ideation, mutilation of corpses, obsessive aemond, dark aemond, a happy ending is not in our future. PLEASE MIND THE TAGS! This story will be pretty dark.

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It was dark and cold. There was a faint dripping of water somewhere off to the side, but you couldn’t quite see where. The echoes of whimpers ricocheted off of the craggy walls, stinging your eardrums.

This was the descent into madness, wasn’t it?

You weren’t sure how long you’d been chained up for— how long had it been since your village burned to the ground? Since you watched the ghouls rip apart the cow farmer from down the road. Since you watched hellhounds crunching on little Mary Jay’s bones. Since you had watched your mother and stepfather plead and beg for their lives, for forgiveness, for mercy, for absolution of their supposed sins before the death knight’s sword lopped their heads off.

How long has it been?

Shifting slightly, the chain tied to your throat clinked against the wall. There was no light, no passage of time to be had in the dank, pitch black cave they stowed you and a few select others in. You only had on a ragged potato sack as a dress, the sensation of dirt and grime caked on your hair and under your nails making you feel less than human.

But— you were still human. For now. The Scourge had ravaged the Eastern Kingdoms without mercy, swiping through the North and South like a fast traveling plague, curdling and damning everything it touched. Hordes of undead zombies, ghouls and hellhounds were the first to raze the cities, driving out the people like mice from the walls. Then the banshees came, along with the necromancers to raise the dead, adding them to a forever amounting army.

Not even Quel’thalas had been able to resist it, an ancient elven city hewn in magic.

What chance did you have?

More than most, evidently. Your mind wrought itself over and over as to why— why were you alive? Why were you still human and not merely a risen thrall?

The clinking of armor scared you as it ascended the hallway. You pressed close to the wall and closed your eyes.

Please don’t stop here, please don’t stop here.

Clink, clink, clink… closer… closer…

Then it passed, descending further away. You let out a breath, your blood still pumping in your ears.

Clink, clink, clink. They were coming back. Clink… silence. You felt bile rise in your throat as you shook, the chains rattling noisily. You knew they were standing there, you knew they were here for you.

A harsh tug upon your chain, your head hitting the floor— some words were mumbled, the voice sounding far away and broken. Your eardrums rang with the ferocity of your fall, drowning out any semblance of what your jailer was saying to you. Then, you were tugged upward, the cool metal of the collar biting into your skin as you were dragged like a petulant child away from your cell…

You didn’t want to open your eyes. You couldn’t face the horror you knew was around you— corpses, living ones and dead, the clatter of bones, the heavy breathing of gargantuan abominations, bodies and faces of countless people stitched together into a new body, hewn with thread and necrotic magic until it gave way to something else entirely. Something unnatural, something made of nightmares. The dermis of those who were used to make the monsters would still twitch, reach out on its own, and if it had a mouth, it would be twisted into a scream. You swore that you heard them whispering as you were dragged by.

The monstrosities were one of many abhorrent creatures at the Scourge’s disposal. Hellhounds, ghouls, gargoyles, wraiths, crypt lords, geists, banshees, and other things of horrific nature were only some of the power wielded by the Scourge. It felt like it was all pulled out of a child’s fairytale, changed and twisted and defiled into what it was now.

It all felt like a very bad dream.

Your eyes opened on their own and you took in the image of death knights, former paladins who served a higher power, the Light— now are nothing but undead heretics, glowing eyes and gaunt stares that bored through you.

Some of the monsters chittered as you were dragged past them, leering and looking hungry.

‘Scrawny that one. Perhaps she will suffice for hellhounds to pick their teeth.’

‘Speak for yourself, her skin will do beautifully on a new abomination.’

‘She won’t be knighted. Merely a maid’s bastard, I’ve heard.’

You forced your eyes to close once more, the sudden light stinging them. You forced yourself into another time, a better memory than what you were experiencing.

They were right, you were a maid’s bastard. Your mother had served in the royal keep for years, with you under her feet. You didn’t know who your true father was, nor did you care.

You became attached to the second son of the King— Aemond Targaryen. He was a sprightly boy with near white hair and luminous violet eyes. The two of you were attached at the hip.

Childhood friendship blossomed into more as you grew into teenagers and young adults— you shared your first kiss together, you held hands and shared sweet nothings. As he trained by day to become a paladin of the Light, he held you close by night, vowing to never let you go. You were both terribly in love and so terribly, terribly naive. He was your first in everything– your first friend, your first kiss, your first lover. You promised yourself that he would stay your first and only.

‘You can never marry a maid’s bastard, Aemond! You’re a prince of the realm-‘

‘I don’t care! I want her, father. I’ve always wanted her!’

Your mother quit her job at the castle— moreso, threatened into quitting by some of the King’s advisors. She was given a considerable amount of coin and told to take you far, far away and to not contact the prince again.

Heartbroken, you left him your sapphire ring, the only thing of value you ever had, which had been passed down through your mother’s family for generations.

It was left on his desk with a note of few words but much feeling.

‘I love you. I’m sorry.’

That was over ten years ago. You hadn’t seen him since, but you missed him horribly. Especially now. You wondered if he was still alive, fighting against the Scourge like his knightly vows dictated.

Maybe he was married and moved across the sea to Kalimdor where it was safer.

Or maybe he was dead. Dead like almost everyone else you knew.

You heard a rumor, fleeting and without much more information, that his father had died– no, that his father had been murdered. The fall of the king, Viserys, is what started the Scourge war. Did Aemond know, wherever he was?

You imagined him holding his arms around you, kissing your neck and fanning his breath over your skin. He liked to encompass you completely with his body when you laid together— you never could emulate the feeling with heavy blankets and pillows, as much as you tried. Putting yourself back into that memory, you wrapped your arms around yourself, willing warmth into your body.

But you didn’t feel any warmth. All you felt was cold, cold down to your bones. They felt brittle, like ice, splintering into shards as you were thrown on the floor again in a different room. Pain bloomed in your arm as it cracked at an awkward angle. Broken.

Your ears rang again as your mouth opened into a scream, tears of pure anguish squeezing from your eyes. But you didn’t hear a thing besides the rush of blood dampening your senses— and the sickening crunch of your broken bones.

‘What have you done to it, Lady Deathwhisper? It looks broken.’

‘It’s human bones are so brittle, it was merely a slip of the hand. I cannot help that their living constitution is so weak.’

‘His grace will not be pleased if it is broken beyond repair.’

‘Worry not, Lady Alys. Most things can be mended— and if not, it can always be raised.’

‘Physical defects aren’t the only issue. What of its mind?’

You feel an acute sensation over your skull, reaching into the depths of your cranium. Its cold, but not stinging— like a soft caress upon your brain as your mind is rifled through like a tome. You can feel your memories being perused, all of the most intimate moments of your life flashing in your head like playwright’s prose. The physicality of your mind being invaded wasn’t painful, but the act of your memories being ripped from you was damning. Tears fell down your face on their own, your mouth opened into a silent scream.

‘She is the one— I saw it. You are lucky that you did not break her mind completely, Lady Deathwhisper.’

‘As are you. You do not have a deft hand when it comes to memory perusal, Lady Alys. I am surprised that it still has a brain in its skull.’

‘Shut up and bring her to him. He will be pleased she is still alive. Barely.’

You felt yourself being moved again, still reeling from the invasion of your mind. You tried to put yourself back into the safe haven of memories, but they were… locked. Locked behind an iron door with no keyhole. They were lost to you.

What were you trying to remember?

Flashes of white hair and violet eyes flitted behind your eyelids, soft caresses and kisses, heavy breathing and love filled promises, the sensation of skin to skin…

Your eyes opened, vision bleary. A helmed woman followed behind you, wings outstretched. You could see the glint of green eyes under her helm. Val’kyr. The woman behind you was a Val’kyr, a spirit guide who defected to the side of the Scourge. They could move between the realm of living and dead as simply as taking a breath.

“The little human is awake,” she mused. “Your mind isn’t broken after all? I do see a glint of intelligence behind those eyes. Keep them on me, you shan’t wish to look upon Lady Deathwhisper.”

You didn’t want to speak, words caught in your throat like food stuck in your craw. A val’kyr was basically an angel of death and talking to one must mean you are dead.

You wish you were.

The chains scraped against the floor, which was no longer stone like before, but rather, hardened ice. You were ascending upward, it seemed. The architecture of the building was nothing like you’d ever seen— dark metal was plated upon the walls, inscribed with glowing runes. The runes looked… familiar to you, somehow. But the memory that contained them was locked away, or mayhaps stolen by the Val’kyr, Alys.

The temperature was cold, you were being lofted upon ice, of course, but you didn’t wholly feel it. You were partially numb, heat radiating from your broken arm. You knew you should be feeling pain— but you were just… numb.

Your escorts stopped in front of two large doors, inscribed with the same glowing runes. Against Alys’ advice, you glanced at ‘Lady Deathwhisper’. She was skeletal, floating upon the ground with no legs to speak of. Her robes were purple fabric, molded around an incorporeal body. She spoke in a language you didn’t understand, the scratchy voice of hers coming out of a bone skull, but the mouth wasn’t moving, maw open as the words came out.

You should have listened to Alys.

The door opened with a rumble, opened by ancient magic, likely imbued by the runes, as they flickered and flitted above your head as it opened. The room beyond was open and bereft of almost anything, except for a throne. A throne forged of ice and swords.

Someone was sitting upon it in a lazed position, one plated gloved finger tapping on the arm of the throne.

“We’ve brought her, your grace,” Lady Deathwhisper growled, shoving you forward. You skidded across the floor, which felt slick like grazing atop an ice-capped lake. “Alys confirmed it is her.”

The clinking of armor caught your attention, the sound of metal grazing against ice. It was irritating and made you grind your teeth. As whoever was on the throne got closer, the force was oppressive. Whimpers and tiny cries were ripped from you as they walked towards you, the aura exuding from them causing you to fall flat to the ground, feeling as if someone was sitting atop of your chest and not letting up.

The steel plated boot was in front of you now and your hair was grabbed rather harshly, pulling you up.

Don’t look, don’t look. You cannot look.

“Look. At. Me.” the voice growled. It was quiet but commanding at the same time, rattling in your bones and making a home amongst the marrow. It felt familiar… so…

You lifted your bloodshot eyes, not out of your own volition, but from the authority of the voice.

“Hello, little dove.” he mused.

It was him. It was… it… Aemond. You knew him so well, even with ten years gone. His chiseled jawline and chin and the dimple of the tip of his nose…

But his eye was missing, a jagged scar bisecting it. In its place was a sapphire. The sapphire from your ring, grown into something to make home in the socket.

You felt everything and nothing all at once, your stomach flipped and flopped like a fish hoisted from the sea, sputtering for air. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t–

Your best friend, your lover, the one you vowed to never forget, to never forsake.

Aemond Targaryen.

Aemond Targaryen was the Lich King. A defiler, a mass murderer, an unholy being in his own right.

“Now you won’t be able to leave again, will you?” Aemond murmured, his violet eye roving you. It was glowing slightly– his skin was a pale gray pallor, cheeks sunken slightly. He was undead.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, vision going black.

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fic #aemond fanfic #aemond smut #dark aemond smut #dark aemond angst #my writing #even in undeath #hotd au

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