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gremlingottoosilly · 5 months

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The Horror and The Wild [Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader] Medieval Fantasy AU (ch.4)

You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one.

CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2| Chapter 3| Chapter 4| you're here! AO3 Word count: 3469 Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig Warnings for this chapter: Dub-con oral sex(f!receiving), outdated views regarding sex

— Now, dear princess, your husband will expect certain…qualities of his wife. Please, you must listen to this as closely as possible if we want to avoid…traumas.

You pout, eating the apple that was provided to you by a group of servants who looked way too scared to be appointed to a princess. If Her Highness saw this, she would order them whipped – a servant shall never look unhappy in front of their patron, as not to invoke nasty feelings of sadness, misery, and empathy in the royal rulers. Princess made you smile and laugh through hours of her extensive, albeit a bit improvised and amateur, singing. You were to hold her hair while she was doing it, listening to the melodies of desire to escape the castle.

The servants in front of you were sent by the Emperor – König, to…teach you something. You were not too interested in his, way too invested in weird fruits from foreign countries that they provided – still, you are too well-mannered to ignore them.

— Traumas? Is his Emperor’s Illustrosicy going to torture me?

Servants look over at each other, nervous. You tilt your head to the side, trying to see if you can decipher their gazes – but you see nothing but sympathy. Sad, miserable kind. Your blood runs cold as you get another bite of that apple.

— You’re as innocent as Emperor said, your Majesty.

You weren’t, in reality – you’re a liar, a traitor to your nation, the only one of the servants who was too scared to die alongside the royal family and performed that foolish gamble in order for a chance to save your hide. Such silly things like an untouchable hymen between your legs or lack of knowledge of intimacy, saved for a few books, are nothing compared to the life you are saving in your mind, There is nothing innocent about you or your actions.

— W…well, you see…you are of child-bearing age.

That was up for discussion. You might be an adult by all standards, a bit too ripe even, too sheltered for the age in which young men are already taking their family’s businesses and women are giving birth to their second and third children, but it doesn’t mean you want to bear someone’s kid. Definitely not conceive from a man who destroyed your future.

— I won’t do it.

You act like a princess would – bratty and pouty, all the new dresses and the room they place you in acting like a perpetuar of your ego.

— My Lady, this isn’t up for discussion. Please, we need to…we need to teach you how to do it, in order to prevent…accidents.

— What accidents?

The other servant, an older lady with tired eyes and snappy gestures, took out a pile of drawings from the bag she was holding. Quite a lot of drawings. Quite detailed drawings. Quite nasty drawings.

Quite…bloody drawings.

Gods, is this what a woman must endure during lovemaking? Is this even lovemaking, or is this a dissection straight from the medical book? The drawings are lewd and horrifying – whoever was the artist, they didn’t spare the details of the act. Pain, blood, torn flesh…god, if they wanted you to learn how to take your husband properly, they did a horrible job – now you don’t ever want to see him again. Not without armor plates protecting…that thing.

— I w…won’t do it. Behead me this instant.

Your voice is weak, horrified. Servants look equally scared.

— Your Majesty, you must know that it’s just…the worst outcome. If you listen to your lessons and relax, you will escape such a fate.

— How could a living being relax while they are being impaled on a spear?!

— With certain balms and extracts, such fate can be escaped.

— How can a balm prevent this?! Too angry to ever listen to the servants, you drip the drawings from your hands, along with a half-eaten apple. Un-ladylike, but you need to preserve your life – and your dignity – before they would show you even more horrifying things that would never let you sleep again. Tugging on the heaviness of your skirt, you ran to the nearest hallway as soon as possible.

The emperor’s palace is disgustingly big and dark – you’d say it was magnificent in that scary, gothic style, but you don’t have the time to think about all the artistic choices that the architects made by installing so many dark hallways in a place that suppose to protect Emperor from possible assassins. Still, you drop to the nearest dark corner, hoping that no one will follow you.

With a calm sigh, you brush the dust from your skirts. God, you had to bring that apple with you – it was delicious.

— I never heard anyone calling my cock a spear before, Liebling. You’re full of surprises.

Big, gloved hands are enveloping your waist, putting you in the hug you didn’t want. This embrace is all too familiar and too terrifying – you forget that this castle serves the only true owner, and your desire to escape will never be considered an option. Like a rabbit in the wolf’s mouth, you freeze. The worst company you could expect after such a horrifying lesson – your only hope is that, like men from the novels you and Princess were reading sometimes, The Emperor was into his comrades more than he would be into you.

His warm hands, pulling you into a tight hug against his body, however, make you think otherwise.

— Let go of me! Pl…please.

You plead because the drawings installed a new fear into your body. You're not afraid of death – if anything, you wish for it. However, the fait of constant pain and suffering which each nightly visit makes you more terrified than any death sentence would.

König only laughs, holding you as close to him as possible. A warm hand grazes over your stomach, making you shiver from anticipation. You don’t know what he is thinking about – you also don’t want to.

— Why would I let go of my precious wife?

— I’m not your wife yet.

— And won’t be for quite a while, considering the lessons my servants taught you?

Blood drains from your face. Even the slightest reminder makes you whimper – like a puppy without its mother, you let go of a pathetic little sound, and your face finds comfort in the armor plates that Knog wears even in many of his castles. Cold metal makes you slightly calmer, and you can force the dreams of touching his chest instead of deep in your mind. Bane to all the lewdness, as you saw the amount of blood it would drain from your body.

— I will never succumb to such fate.

— I promise it won’t be that bad. I can whip my servants for installing fear in you if you want to, little princess.

No matter how scared they made you feel, you will never bestow such fate on any of the servants – you, perhaps, the only one who knows how hard and horrible work as a lady in waiting might be. You might not be the perfect princess, but you certainly aren’t a cruel one.

— No. They…they shall not be harmed, Your Majesty.

He chuckles, pushing a hand on your face. A few tears fall down your cheeks – he drains them with his gloved finger, making you whimper only more. God, you look divine like this – eyes are glistening with tears, the face is hot from fear and embarrassment, the mouth is open with a sweet little pout…it takes every last inch of his self-control not to simply pick you up and bring you to his bedroom before you could say anything.

— You’re kind for a princess.

There is suspicion in his voice – but you quickly try to brush it away by forcing yourself out of his embrace. Unfortunately, he only holds you tighter, making you bury your face in his armor again. To be honest, it’s not the worst place to be.

— Shouldn’t you be in the courtroom?

— I ran. Never liked to greet new people.

You almost choke on your breath. Is he serious?! His face betrays his emotions – despite how confident his mask is, you can see that his eyes are colder than usual. More nervous than usual. His hands are shaking, if only for a little bit, holding you tight, as you can simply escape through his fingers like sand. You’d love to have such powers.

— I thought the Emperor had responded.

— I do. And an army of men to do these responsibilities for me.

— You’re hiding from my country’s Ambassadors?

— Collaborators and traitors of your people, yes. The only ambassador I care about is in my hands.

With this, he quickly pushes you up in his hands, forcing you to sit on the cold stone ledge. The new dress design makes it possible to manipulate and move the skirt as he pleases – you hate this new fashion because it makes it ridiculously easy for König to simply push your skirt upwards, revealing your legs and your dignity, concealed by only a pair of short, frilly white underpants with so many bows and ribbons, it feels obscene.

You try to kick him in the face, but he catches your ankle before you can do anything. He was a horrible, terrible man – totally unfit for the ruler of half of the world, you have no idea how a man this villainous could still be held in high regard for his people. This place is just as barbaric as their ruler, you presume – no dignity or sense of taste as König holds your skirt up, tearing apart the delicate fabric. God, it probably cost a fortune!

Emerald green fabric lays like green ocean waves under your legs. You must admit, even the cold of the inner parts of the palace does not make you feel uncomfortable – if anything, this moment of exposure of your legs makes you feel a bit more comfortable and fresh. The light breeze caresses your legs, and you almost want to close your eyes and just enjoy wearing clothes without the stuffiness of the full gown.

With your corset, torn skirt, and underpants, you almost feel like you’re wearing pants – an obscene picture, you assume, a lady should never show her ankles to anyone but her husband…and you would do everything to stop him from being marked as one. Still, König places his large imposing body between your legs, and you panic immediately – is this monster terrible enough to show you what those illustrations meant, not even in the comfort of a marriage bed, but in the coldness of the stone hallway? You close your eyes, kicking him to your heart’s content – and he is laughing every time you’re trying to resist, only catching both of your ankles in his grip and forcing them open. God, this is the end. Torture that you never wanted to experience will be bestowed upon you right about…

His tongue goes to rub you through the rough fabric of your underpants. Dispute all the layers of expensive material, your maidenhood feels like it had been set on fire.

You are suddenly aware of the silly things you have between your legs. You can feel them too well right now – every second of movement of his tongue against sensitive flesh makes your legs kick him less and less. Your nails are trying to dig into the stone of a small ledge you were sitting on – but you can’t do anything to stop this sweet torture he is perpetuating. You want for everything to stop this instant, and you want for him to finally take off your undergarments.

— Wh…wha…what are you doing?! You don’t scream as loud as you can, only because you know that the maids are nearby and you don’t want to be making a scene. Putting the emperor back in his place and revealing him as a pervert would be nice, of course – but it wasn’t as nice as having your dignity saved. You bite your lips, feeble attempts to save at least parts of yourself – still, you feel like you’re being boiled alive by his masterful tongue, without even the need to bring your pants down and feel him on your flesh directly.

— I want to show you how nice this could be.

— How nice what could be?! You are still kicking your legs, and he is slowly taking down the fabric of your underpants. You wish he had exposed hair so you could tug on it – you wish he wasn’t afraid of showing you his face, just so you could break it properly. A lady should always protect her virginity from a man with evil intentions, and König was certainly the most evil person of them all.

Still, his tongue felt so good, circling around the parts you were only finding accidentally, blindly searching for pleasure like a dumb kitten, trying every little button in your body to see what would make you squirm. He is masterful at this, every action is deliberate and strong – every little thing in his movements makes you wonder just how many women he bedded.

You can still feel the little tremble in his hands, his fingers that supported you and kept your legs apart are trembling, if only just a bit – you wonder if he truly is nervous about everything he is doing or if he just wants to make everything perfect. His touch leaves a trail of bruises on your inner thighs and you never thought that you’d yearn for a man whose touch is literally hurting you.

— I know how to make… consumation go painless, little princess. Certainly have the experience for this.

— Is fondling my undergarments a part of this experience, Your Highness?

— If you wish for me to lost my control, little princess.

Before you could say anything else about not wanting for him to simply take off your underpants and throw them on the cold floor of the castle, he had already lowered them to hang around your ankles – revealing your sensitive folds, already glossy and wet from all the fondling he performed to make you nice and ready for him.

König knew he shouldn’t be doing this – losing control would be too easy in this case. Little princess, out of her own depth, can barely stop him when he wants to take something precious from her – still, he wanted to at least try to be slower, softer, to make everything perfect and make her his precious trophy. Her dread over bedding him would prove horrible for their marriage – if she didn’t wish for the workers to be saved, he would already sent those dumb maids away.

Princess is adult enough to learn the pleasures of being a woman – still, he understood why a king would want to hide a precious flower like this. You don’t behave like a spoiled brat would, no matter how much you want to make him think you were nothing but a pouty face and frowned brows, and he wants to see your true self – your inner nature, revealing itself in front of him. And he knows just a way to do this…

Your cunt is perfect – he is a soldier, a man of war and little romance, he can’t sing you a song of how beautiful and perfect your maidenhood is, but he can lick it and tease it and make you come on his tongue more than you ever could with that dainty fingers of yours.

He isn’t ashamed of touching your sweetness when he is burning his face between your legs. Not even caring that his hood, which he had to draw back as fast as possible, is going to get messy with all o your juices, he licks and tugs on your clit, your folds, on every sensitive bit of skin of your body.

And, by god, are you sensitive?

Soon, your little cries of pleasure are turning into moans that you are pathetically trying to hide. Soon you are marking his rough, rugged face wet with your juices – his nose is pressed on your clit constantly, and that well-mannered, perfectly bred royal woman in your body is moaning like a common whore.

König isn’t trying to be too gentle – his mind is filled with that boyish nerves and anxiety, the fear of getting spotted not because anyone would have anything to say to the literally fucking emperor, but because he doesn’t want anyone else to see how easily he can drown little princess in pleasure. She is a perfect girl, so pretty for him, so nice and wet when he pushes his tongue in and out.

He forgot the last time he experienced such pleasure – his dick only grows with each gentle stroke of tongue in your folds, and he doesn’t even need to touch himself. You’re perfect for him, writhing under his touch, he had to force himself to stop putting too much pressure on your poor swollen clit. König almost forgot just how sensitive you are – he had to introduce you slowly to the world of pleasure, not pushing you into the depths before you could even get married, but…well, he was never one to follow the rules – and you, as his precious bride, deserved something nice outside of the wedlock.

— St…stop, it’s t’ much…

You are mumbling, holding his hood in your hands, and he is almost afraid you are going to pull it to reveal his face even more – but even your ruined skirt is enough of a cover to make his identity concealed, and he isn’t afraid of pushing your gummy walls with his tongue, gently caressing your insides.

You are clenching around his tongue, the intrusion is unfamiliar to you – he makes sure he kisses your clit from time to time, holding the sensitive bud between his teeth so as to threaten you gently. He usually involves a lot more biting and would love to put some permanent marks on your thighs and soft lower tummy, but if you were scared of the drawings those dumb maids put on to you, he doesn’t want to fuel your fear any further. He could try later, making your perfect body into a canvas for his desire.

— Patience is a grace for a princess, ja? Be patient, Meine Liebe.

— Pl…please, stop, I don’t…

— What is it?

— It’s too much, you shouldn’t…

— I’m not claiming you yet. God won’t be against a bit of fun, Schatzi.

— I’m against it…

— Your moans tell another story, little princess.

He knows you don’t want to be patient – he tugs at every nerve inside your body, his tongue swings in and out, and his lips caress your soft folds, collecting any juice that might be escaping. He will have to gift you another dress after this – but he is so used to seeing you in torn clothes it becomes a thing that stirs his manhood again and again. You look perfect when you’re not perfect – by god, he is unable to control himself.

You whine lightly as he presses a final kiss to your clit, catching your orgasm and drinking your pleasure. He is a messy eater through and through – his stubble makes you whimper from sensitivity, you sob lightly as he pushes back, a hood returning to conceal his face before your dazed eyes would be able to catch him.

Hell, you look precious.

Panting, with sweat beads glossy on your skin, with your lips open and moans escaping it – with your face completely turned into an expression of enormous pleasure, he doesn’t know what to do with himself as he watches you breathe heavily, chest going up and down. If he could, he would chain you to a bed in his bedroom, not ever allowing your precious figure to escape.

He might just do this when you’re married.

You whimper under him, your eyes are still glazed with that pleasurable expression, making him smile under his hood. You may hate him all you want, but he sees the truth – knows just how perfect you are in your stubborn desire to defy him.

— Wh…what was it?

You are still shocked but regain some of your senses – you take on your underpants quickly, stubbornness spreading across your warm, embarrassed face. How he loves that expression.

— I wanted to show you that our wedding night wouldn’t be as bad.

— I would rather live without a wedding night, Your Majesty.

— Now, was it that bad?

You tilt your head to the side.

— I am not here to feed your ego.

— You’re sure it is feeding my other senses.

He brushes his hand over your face. You allow him to – not because you wanted his touch, but because you needed some time to think, and his touch was gentle enough to ignore. Yes. That is the truth.

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #yandere cod #konig mw2 #reader insert

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belphegorbillickin · 1 year

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Obey Me! Love Languages (+Side Characters)

(CW!): Yandere-ish behavior in the Levi, Diavolo, and Belphie sections. Diavolo is the worst out of the three.

Lucifer:

Nothing makes Lucifer much happier than simply spending time alone together, especially in bed.

(He practically jumps you every Devilgram I swear.)

He's more than willing to keep chaste if that's what you prefer though. Lucifer cherishes any and all time you spend with him.

He prefers to go somewhere private with you, where he can let his guard down completely and tell you exactly how much he appreciates you, but he enjoys calmer, more "mature" dates as well.

You don't even have to talk to each other, simply spending time together makes his (shriveled, blackened) heart swell and tension ease.

Although if you'd like to completely remove his tension…

(Have I mentioned that this man is even more desperate than Mammon and Asmo combined? Give this ancient babygirl a hug and a back massage.)

You may or may not be as busy as he is, but he still sees you being willing to spend what little time you both have together as a big gesture.

It certainly is for him at least, as he's far too busy to entertain someone he doesn't truly care for.

It may sound odd coming from an effectively "ageless" being, but time is honestly his most limited resource.

Lucifer's too much of a perfectionist and control freak to let you do anything big, but he deeply appreciates anything you do to make his life easier.

Even something as small as bringing him breathtakingly bitter hell coffee or a pen he forgot brightens his day considerably.

Of course, being the Avatar of Pride, he's more than happy to receive any and all compliments you give him.

They're not exactly uncommon, but he feels they sound so much sweeter coming from your lips.

(Lips he would love to kiss if you'd just let him…)

You know you've made it when Lucifer allows you to see his vulnerable side and trusts you enough to ask for help with the more serious, complicated tasks.

Something no other human, demon, or angel, will likely ever have the privilege of experiencing.

Mammon:

It's canonically stated that whoever he loves is showered in riches, and I don't believe it's just from his latent power.

What better way for the avatar of greed to show he loves you than to be selfless and give you what's his?

Anything that reminds him of you is already in his hands before he can even think about it, paid for or not.

It can be something as simple as a pretty flower or a giant piece of furniture he thinks you'll look great relaxing in.

It's a shame it won't fit in your room, but that just means you'll have to come visit him in his more often. He totally didn't plan that though! (You know he did.)

He's also a huge showboat and always tries to go for the most extravagant options even if it doesn't actually add anything either of y'all would like.

Mammon was already pretty horrible at budgeting, but after becoming infatuated with you it's almost like he's actively trying to get into a ridiculous amount of debt with everyone.

It's only because he desperately wants to impress you and show how much you mean to him, by any and all means possible.

Of course Mammon would love to receive some gifts in turn, but I feel like, unless they were homemade or otherwise really special, he'd start to take it for granted and complain when it's not expensive enough.

It's not that he means to take advantage of you or doesn't appreciate it, but he is the Avatar of Greed after all, and you're feeding into it.

What really makes him feel loved is when you defend him publicly and happily turn down the others to spend more time with him.

He doesn't mean it in a nasty way unlike some demons, *cough* *cough* Levi & Belphie, but the way his brothers have treated him has worn on him a bit.

You know you've made it when Mammon finally feels secure enough to say he loves you with zero hesitation.

Alone, in front of his brothers, even in front of Simeon and Diavolo and the others. He'll scream it from the rooftops if you want him to.

Leviathan:

Leviathan is actually very generous. He's offered to buy things for his brothers and MC surprisingly often.

It makes sense in a way, as he doesn't really have to do much to maintain it. He can just drop the gift and run when he's nervous, rather than having to stay still while holding your hand or possibly tripping over his words and getting rejected when he tries to say something nice.

I bet he feels as though even if someone didn't like him they would at least like the gift, and then maybe they'll eventually like the source of all the gifts as well.

I could definitely see Levi trying to "buy" your love even if he doesn't realize it.

He's also very helpful when he wants to be, Satan even listed him as his most reliable brother.

It makes him feel good to do things for other people and again, he feels like maybe people will like what he does for them even if they don't like him the same way.

It's not as though he hates compliments and any other loving comments, but he's never really going to believe them until you've already "proven it" through your other actions.

If anything it has a very high chance of backfiring if that's your main way of showing affection, especially if you're a kind person in general.

Levi has got a nasty habit of twisting everyone's words against them and he's not gonna kick it anytime soon, regardless of any reassurance you give him.

His insecurities are far too deeply rooted and connected to his very existence as the Avatar of Envy to be soothed so easily.

Even gifts are a much better way into his heart, if you take the time to research his collection and support his hobbies that is.

Not only did you take the time to listen to what he says, but you spent all that time and effort tracking it down, waiting in line, or staying at the website refreshing repeatedly until you could buy it.

It shows him you're fully supportive and not embarrassed to be seen as a "weeb." That you won't pretend to not know him in public when he freaks out the latest Ruri-chan merch and proudly displays it on his person.

What really makes Leviathan believe you love him is getting jealous over him and turning down the others to be with him.

Especially if you made plans with them first and then ditched them for Levi when he threw a fit.

It's very mean-spirited, unlike Mammon who mostly wants reassurance. As Leviathan actually wants to feel them hurting, but again, he's a demon and The Avatar of Envy at that. Take the most jealous, unreasonable, and controlling person you know and multiple it by a thousand. That's what he has to deal with in his head 24/7, and though he does a very admirable job of keeping them as thoughts rather than actions, it's still a very heavy strain and things do slip out.

Levi will end up throwing a fit if you try to restrict his Ruri or TSL time out of jealousy, but any H-games and etc. are fair game so long as you promise to pick up the slack.

He'll even stop going to idol meet and greets for you, but it's only fair you start restricting your time with other people (including his brothers) in return, right? Right?

…Yeah, good luck handling that.

You know you've made it when Leviathan feels confident enough to regularly initiate physical contact and casually ask for your time and affection.

It's not that he doesn't like it, he's completely touch starved and has been fantasizing about initiating for a while, it's that he's completely sure he'll be rejected or mess it up somehow.

Or that it'll become overstimulating and he'll hurt your feelings by abruptly breaking it off when it suddenly becomes too much.

It means that you've brought his self-esteem up quite a bit, that Leviathan finally trusts that you won't suddenly make fun of him. That you actually like him for who he is and not in spite of it.

Satan:

Satan likes to show his love through gifts, acts of service, and the occasional sprinkle of affectionate words. Possibly even through poetry he wrote himself. He wants to show you that he's the superior choice. The reliable, practical, and in-the-know choice without being too stuffy and uptight, unlike some people. *cough* Lucifer *cough*

He also prides himself on his knowledge, and would be very eager to share said knowledge with you.

Feel free to ask him about any topic you want, chances are he at least knows a good book for it. If he somehow doesn't, then he'll gladly try to find one for you.

Just don't expect him to do your coursework or any other intellectual work for you. As much as Satan loves to be useful, he values self-sufficiency and growth even more.

He just can't understand wanting to cheat yourself out of a possible learning experience, and only wants the best for you.

What makes him feel loved is when you acknowledge his flaws but don't make excuses or demonize him for them.

When you don't push too hard for him to open up or spend all of his time with you, and instead set a schedule of sorts so the two of you always have at least some time together without it becoming too much.

He's not the biggest fan of physical contact though, as the circumstances of his "birth" meant that non-violent contact was rare until he finally calmed down and repaired the few relationships that he had. Truth be told, he also a bit afraid of hurting you. Satan's afraid that he'll instinctively lash out when you touch him suddenly, or that he'll hold on too tightly when he goes to touch you himself. You'd never know it now, the way he handles his centuries old books and week old kittens, but Satan is not gentle by nature. He won't shove you away or anything, but he will tense up and never initiate "pointless" physical contact even if he knows you love it until you let him approach it at his own pace.

You know you've made it when Satan finally opens up and doesn't avoid talking about his insecurities and weak points, or feel as though he's competing with Lucifer for your affection anymore.

When he feels free to act as he would like to instead of trying to compensate for his inexperience by imitating romance novels. When Satan doesn't feel as though he has to hide his purely demonic upbringing and everything that comes with it in fear of intimidating or scaring you off.

Asmodeus:

I feel like Asmodeus' love languages are pretty obvious, as in he absolutely adores all of them, as he's got so much affection to give and is plenty eager to receive.

He especially loves spoiling you and dressing you up. It's as much for his benefit as it is yours.

It's the same with all the pictures he takes of the two of you. He considers himself very generous indeed for sharing your beauty with the world instead of keeping it to himself, unlike some people.

Asmo will tell you as much himself, in fact, he never grows tired of describing your beauty in every possible way he could.

You can't go more than a day without him comparing at least one aspect of you to some beloved art piece or wonder of nature.

And of course, you can't forget the physical affection. Asmo lives for the chance to run his fingers along your skin and drape himself across you.

Platonically, romantically, sexually, it's all amazing to him.

He also finds testing out all sorts of creams and lotions on you incredibly intimate and relaxing, despite always preferring to be the one being pampered before.

You know you've made it when Asmodeus allows you to see him at his "ugliest," whether that be physically or emotionally, and trusts that you won't leave him for it.

When he feels like you would still be with him even if he never did anything sexual again.

It may or may not seem like that big of a deal to you, but Asmodeus is incredibly insecure deep down.

He can't help but feel like he'll never be as loved as he was back in heaven all those years ago, and certainly not for the same reasons.

What Asmodeus needs is someone who will prove that wrong, that sees him as something more than to look at and get off with.

Beelzebub:

"You didn't get me a snack? It's okay. I don't mind being stuck with you forever." (Slightly Used Handcuff Item - 2020 Valentine's Event)

Beelzebub makes it extremely obvious that what he wants more than anything is just to enjoy being by your side.

You don't have to do anything special or even talk, just showing that you're willing to spend time with him is proof enough of your love.

It's also how he shows affection. Like how even though he's not that interested in anime or video games, and Levi usually doesn't let him play (thanks to his messy eating and sticky hands,) Beel still goes into Levi's room surprisingly often.

Honestly, I'm not convinced part of it isn't at least partially from PTSD as well.

Beelzebub feels the need to stay by your side so that he can always be there to take the hit for you.

So that he can see you're still here with his own two eyes and not permanently gone the second he turns around.

What really makes him feel loved is when you look out for his emotional well-being and refuse to let him put himself last.

When you don't take his self-sacrificing ways for granted or come to expect them.

It doesn't matter how you show your appreciation, he's grateful for anything you give him, so long as you do it.

He is a bit insecure however. Both about his behavior and his appearance, as surprising as that may be to anyone who's seen him.

His demon form is associated with something most humans find disgusting after all. So he really appreciates any way you try to reassure him about it.

You know you've made it when Beelzebub is consistently willing to share his food with you.

Beelzebub arguably has the worst control over his sin and readily admits it. Belphie is the only other person he'd ever really share his own food with, and even then not all of it all the time.

But the ultimate test is when he's willing to go against Belphegor for you, even if it's just not immediately agreeing with everything he says.

Beelzebub feels very indebted to Belphie, no matter how many times he tells him it's fine Beel still feels like he has to do any and everything to make up for it.

So if he's willing to go against that, willing to risk upsetting Belphie, it means that you mean everything to him.

Belphegor:

Belphie's all about physical touch and quality time. Both in the sense of spending all of your time with him, and in the sense of not spending that time with anyone else, except Beel of course.

Not just cuddling in bed or taking naps together, but holding hands, letting him lean against you, and kissing are all things Belphie also really enjoys, and expects.

Despite getting embarrassed fairly easily by some of his brothers at times, it's almost impossible to ignore PDA when you lean into it like that, and he's desperate to stake his claim even in public. (Though his embarrassment quickly fades as he becomes more comfortable being vulnerable with you and his brothers again. His guarded, territorial behavior quickly turns into bragging and "tests of your loyalty" after that.)

Now, despite that he does expect you to respect when he wants his alone time, but Belphegor doesn't respect your boundaries all that well until you make him.

Not that he minds if you do try to force him to stop being as much of a spoiled brat though, he likes someone that can give as good as they can get so long as you do it with love.

He's another one that wants to watch you crush his brothers' hopes and dreams in favor of spending time with him. Not Beel though, never Beel.

Seriously, he likes to make out in public and actively fantasizes about his brothers getting jealous because of it in his devilgrams.

(He's also the most suggestive even after they started toning everything down. He gets implied sex and makes out several times a devilgram while other characters don't even get kisses at all sometimes.)

Belphegor is a Belphewhore when it comes to you. (Which is rather fitting, if you know anything about demonology.)

You know you've made it when this lazy cow gets up off his ass to do something for you, something usually only reserved for Beel.

Now, normally being compared to someone you're trying to date's twin brother would be a bad thing, but not in this case.

It just means the only one who will ever be equally important as his figurative other half is his twin, his literally magically and psychically connected other half.

The deepest form of trust is when he fully entrusts Beel's safety and happiness to you.

He may not seem as outwardly protective as his twin, but he is very much so, and he's become even more paranoid and codependent after being forcefully separated for so long.

Whereas Beel is more concerned with physical safety, Belphegor is more concerned with Beelzebub's mental state.

He knows his twin has a tendency to be self-sacrificing, full of guilt, and a bit too eager to take things at face value at times (despite being the emotionally intelligent out of all of them) for a demon. He also knows plenty of people would take advantage of that, intentionally or not.

Belphegor will act uncaring, but he's carefully monitoring your interactions with Beelzebub and paying attention to all of the shared feelings from their connection, intent on matching them up to see if you caused any of his poor moods.

Diavolo:

Lord Diavolo constantly puts himself into frustrating lose-lose situations.

He only really feels assured if you keep coming to him of your own free will, but he's so terrified of rejection and losing you that he rarely ever allows you to do just that.

He's always coming up with some brand new scheme or just outright forcing you to come to him, sometimes even physically, which only reinforces his bad habits and insecurities.

It doesn't matter how much you try to resist. Do you really believe you could do something to stop it when even several-thousand-year-old Lucifer and his strong-willed brothers can't? When even Barbatos couldn't? You'd need the power of God and anime on your side for even a small chance at that.

He'll literally pick you up or drag you if he has to, laughing all the while, refusing to take it seriously as you squirm even though he's really hurt deep down.

He tries to keep in mind that some people are "shy" and don't want to be dragged out all the time, but if you say, take the week in between his tiring plots to catch up on coursework and relax, he'll start to worry you're distancing yourself.

Diavolo's severe abandonment and boundary issues make it nearly impossible for you to challenge them without doing exactly what he wants, when he wants.

Who does he think he is, some kind of all-powerful demon lord or something?

Diavolo doesn't consider himself to be a big gift-giver, but he spoils those he appreciates regardless, and you receive his love on a completely different level.

He's just so used to opulence and never wanting for anything purchasable (easily or not) that he may overwhelm you with uncomfortably extravagant displays without even considering how the average human might react.

Want some chocolate? Diavolo will have Barbatos summon the most skilled chocolatiers immediately.

Can't find the perfect formal wear for yourself? He's calling in his personal tailors to make the most beautiful pieces of clothing you've ever seen in your life.

And yet despite all that it can still fall a bit flat at times.

Diavolo is the most flexible with this form of affection, but he can still be very inconsiderate in a sense.

He takes being told it's a bit too much surprisingly well, but he's fairly controlling about the gifts themselves.

You don't like the colors he picked? Too bad. It matches his own outfit and the color you want would match with the brothers instead and etc.

Sometimes it almost feels like the gifts are more for him than you, or that they come with hidden expectations rather than to make you happy.

Even though he really does want to make you happy, very much so in fact.

You know you've made it when Diavolo finally trusts you to come back to him on your own. Something that might take years and years of "absolutely perfect loyalty."

When he's not constantly sending you messages every time you're apart and doesn't try to force his way into every outing or private moment you have.

Quality time is still his main love language, giving and receiving, and he's still very aggressive in his attempts to spend time with you, but it's expressed in a (slightly) healthier way.

It does mean fighting against his very nature as a demon, even more so than he already does, but he's more than willing to try for you.

Barbatos:

Despite being quite powerful himself, people are often so used to taking advantage of him that they don't see him as much of a person compared to others.

He's rarely Barbatos and often "The Prince's Butler, who happens to be called Barbatos" instead.

Barbatos is targeted quite often by various groups of people, but few of them are after his attention specifically, instead of his power and connections.

He doesn't really allow himself to date in general. Besides not having the time for it, he's too worried about accidentally giving a spy or old Demon King loyalist an opening to cause trouble.

Whether that'd be because he's distracted or because he somehow ends up dating that kind of demon, Barbatos is rarely a risk taker when it comes to Diavolo's safety.

Even when he's liked it's usually for what he can do for other people, like Beelzebub wanting to keep him as his chef and Solomon eyeing his powers for example.

The only one who's really broke past that in the last couple of centuries has been Luke, who's come to be like an adopted son (or pet chihuahua) of sorts to him.

As much as the child loves to say he's using Barbatos, it's clear that the affection is mutual.

Now, a lowly human on the other hand? He'd worry about them being taken hostage or having loose lips, but otherwise they're fairly harmless. Barbatos has all the power in the relationship, just the way he likes it.

In a way, humans' short lifespans also helps to prepare Barbatos for the possibility of seeing your untimely death.

He knew what he was getting into, even if he's gotten far more attached to you than he ever intended to.

In a way, your presence eventually becomes synonymous with respite to him.

At first because of the physical aspect of entertaining you, but it slowly starts to be because of you specifically.

How sweetly you talk to him, really talk to him and not at him. The way you're so considerate in ways that even angels are not for a "mere butler."

Not much longer after that, it comes to be everything about you, even your smile becomes enough to make his day.

Besides being helpful, proving you're willing to "stoop down to his level" and "serve the servant" makes him much more willing to believe you're genuine.

In his (plentiful) experience, pretending to actually enjoy helping out in person is much harder to fake than anything else, especially for the snobbish nobles typically attempting to gain Lord Diavolo's favor.

Barbatos is another hardcore perfectionist who takes his work extremely seriously, who would rather die than let anyone else do it for him, especially since it would cause him to look as if he was "slacking." However, small things like drawing a bath for him, bringing him his favorite snacks, and giving him massages really helps him relax and feel loved.

He's also very fond of homemade gifts for similar reasons. The thought of someone going to all that effort for "just a butler" is very much appreciated.

Despite being such a perfectionist he'll accept the love put into almost anything you give him if it's made with care and free of the furry beasts he despises so strongly.

He'll have them all displayed properly in his room, in a way that will let them last longer, right next to everything Luke has made for him.

You know you've made it when Barbatos allows you to take care of him and ease his burdens.

When he'll allow you to wash his hair and pour tea for the both of you without stressing about how perfect it may or may not be.

Solomon:

Solomon's main love languages are gift giving and acts of service, and yes, you're gonna have to eat his cooking and you're gonna have to like it.

More seriously though, I'd argue it's quality time and acts of service, both giving and receiving.

He may have an excess of years left, for the understatement of the century, but he knows not everyone else does.

So Solomon really cherishes what little time you're willing to give him, especially if it means ignoring the demon brothers in favor of him. Asmodeus included. Solomon needs to know you're willing prioritize humanity, and him of course, before he can really begin to trust you and let you in.

He's also very fond of physical touch, he's close to Asmo for a reason after all, but that doesn't actually assure him your love is true regardless of how much he enjoys it.

You know you've made it when Solomon is fully willing to become attached and admit it to himself, regardless of any potential heartbreak he may suffer.

When he's ready to tell you so, to make concrete plans about the future with you, instead of for you, and commit to them fully.

But he also really does want to see you eating his cooking, that he infuses with all of his love just for you, every day.

Simeon:

Simeon is another tricky one, as he rarely allows people get close enough to see his more vulnerable side. Not even those that he was once brothers in arms with.

I believe one major indicator of Simeon being truly in love with you is when he's seeking out your touch.

When he's always brushing his fingers against your shoulders and grabbing your waist as he walks past, just to feel your skin.

Or even allowing you to come to bed with him, "just to cuddle, of course" he says, despite the major risks being that close poses for an angel already teetering on the edge. That's not to say that he doesn't express it through other means, like through the written word, but his playful brushes against you and sly smiles as he tells his white lies to get some alone time are something exclusive to your (not-so-secret) relationship.

He does however, always want to spend time with you. Even before he's ready to fully commit and be completely vulnerable around you.

You may or may not have that much time together after all, and he wants to spend as much of it as possible with you. Simeon also adores teasing the ones he loves, and that will most likely be the first bit of "personalized" affection he gives you. He just can't get enough of your embarrassed faces and mannerisms.

You know you've made it when Simeon is willing to trust you with all of his darkest thoughts and concerns.

When he can trust you won't judge him for his sins or try to guide him to any particular path.

When he's certain you'll stay true, and value and respect his guidance, no matter what form he's in or what he's done.

It's a common idea I know, but I got an ask for it literally years ago and I wanted to dump my reasons onto y'all anyway.

The draft date on AO3 said I started it in the middle of 2021, which should explain exactly why I feel bad about taking requests.

Also shameless self promotion, but I have a full Obey Me! rewrite fic out now!

Please do note that this is a fully realized fem OC with her own personality, not a gender neutral reader insert, and there are a lot of potential triggers involved.

So please make sure to read the tags fully before going in!

But don't worry, everything else will stay gender neutral and reader insert! Nothing is going to change about that here or on tumblr.

#obey me x reader #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me solomon #obey me simeon

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

Dirty Work 33

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: The man has no chill.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You hover before the door, each step sending a searing ripple through your bottom. You wring your hands as you walk in circles. You're not even sure Mr. Laufeyson is still within but you don't dare open to check.

Time slogs by in your cowardice. You retreat to the sofa and pull your feet up, hugging your knees as you hang your head. You just want him to forgive you and tell you you're good.

You close your eyes as your head begins to thrum. You're mind wanders ahead of you and the list of everything you'll need to pack. You don't even have a bag of your own, what will you put your stuff in? How long will you be gone? You'll have to rescheduled Ronan's next visit, and forward the gate codes to the gardeners...

You slip into a doze as your mind skews with the endless rote of tasks. You slump down until the world goes black, your body sinking into itself. You only stir again as you feel a shift around you.

You grunt and lift your hand as you're lifted from the sofa. You look up at Mr. Laufeyson's chin as he carries you across the room. You wiggle and brace his chest as you float precariously in his arms.

"Come to bed," he coaxes as he takes you into the hall.

You don't move. You don't dare. Fearful that he might suddenly hate you again. He brings you to the bedroom and lays you on the bed. You stay curled up as he shuts the door.

He moves around quietly and approaches with a swish of fabric. He holds a satin nightgown by its straps. You pout up at him as he tilts his head.

"Sleep, we have much to do tomorrow," he girds.

You nod and sit up. You sidle to the edge of the bed and he places the nightie beside you. He unbuttons your blouse before you can. You sit there and let him. He swiftly pulls the sleeves down your arms and disposes your bra in quick succession. He grabs your arms and makes you stand, unzipping your skirt before he shimmies it down to your ankles. You step out of it, then your panties as he tugs them down too.

You raise your arms as he opens the nightgown above you and he sweeps it down your figure. The cool fabric makes you shiver. Still groggy, you teeter on your feet and turn to stare at the bed, waiting for his order.

"A moment," he extends a single finger before striding away.

You stay as you are, folding your arms as you face the wall. The satin makes your bum sting each time you move. You hear him behind you.

"Get on the bed," he orders, "on your stomach."

You obey, so quickly you nearly flop onto your face. You move your head onto the pillow, bending your arms beneath. He nears and pinches the fabric just along the curve of your thigh. He peels it up and reveals your tortured flesh.

"It might hurt," he warns and touches a cool swab to your skin. You hiss between your teeth and swallow down a whimper. He works diligently, almost dotingly at cleaning the lashes, bruises tender at his touch. "We can't have an infection, can we?"

"No, Mr. Laufeyson," you agree as he covers your bottom with the nightie.

"Mmm," he hums and leaves you again.

You wait, unmoving, for his return. When he comes back, he undresses near the closet and pulls on only a pair of twill pajama pants to sleep in. He climbs onto the bed from the other side and grabs your shoulder, rolling you onto your back. Your face contorts in pain as your weight rests on your rear.

"Better," he says. You frown. "You are doing better," he specifies, "pet, if you are to accompany me to my mother's celebration, you must be on your best behaviour."

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson," you utter.

He traces the strap of your nightie with his fingertips and you shudder. As much as you fear his touch, you long for it. It means he's not upset. His hand wanders as he trails over the swell of your chest, your nipples going pert beneath the fabric.

"And you are excited to come?" He asks.

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson," you answer.

"Truly?"

"Yes, I... I've never gone anywhere before."

"Not anywhere?" He prompts doubtfully.

"No," you lower your eyes shamefully, "we couldn't afford--"

"Not to worry," he lifts his hand and taps the tip of your nose, "let me worry for the expense. I only need you on your best and to have everything ready. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson," you gulp, "I promises--"

"Shhhh," he presses his finger to your lips, "it is late."

You nod as he drags his fingertip over your lips and circles your mouth. He fixates on the move, his eyes glittering. He lets out a sigh.

"One more thing," he adds as he frames your chin, "you will avoid my brother."

You swallow and whisper, "yes, Mr. Laufeyson."

"Very good, pet," he bends to kiss your forehead, "rest, you will surely need it."

✨

Exhaustion shrouds the night. You wake little by little, sore and weak as your fatigue weighs you down. You languish in the bed next to Mr. Laufeyson, his breath rising and falling softly in his chest. You’re uncertain what to do.

Should you wait for him to rouse before you set about the day?

You don’t dare wake him up. The very thought sends a flow of terror through you. Whenever you disturbed your father’s sleep, he was never happy. Those days were the worst. Men are safer when they’re asleep.

Restless, you relent to the morning and sit up carefully. You glance over at Mr. Laufeyson. Gone is the anger that creased his forehead and curled his lip. He is peaceful and placid, all tension drained from his features. Conscious, his cheeks are always drawn taut with disapproval and brow set in an imperious line. He looks almost harmless.

As the night tugs against your bottom, you’re reminded that he is not. You turn your back to him and slip off the side of the bed. You peek at him again, slowly tiptoeing to the door. He doesn’t stir.

You ease the door just enough to pass into the hall and scurry onward. You take the stairs quickly and charge into the kitchen. He can’t be mad if you bring him tea. If you’re just doing your job, there’s no reason for disappointment.

You boil the kettle and pluck out cups and the tea pot. You do the task without thinking, arranging the tray just so before lifting it up. You are careful not to rattle the contents as you climb the staircase.

You shoulder through the bedroom door and find Mr. Laufeyson as you left him. You try not to notice what you didn’t before. The twitching movement over his pelvis, just beneath the blanket. You gulp and set down the tray on foot of the bed. The smell of tea wafts from the spout of the pot.

It’s good he’s asleep, the tea still needs time to steep. You step back and pull on your finger, watching him, waiting. Would he be even more upset if you let him sleep too late? He said today would be busy.

“Pet,” he frightens you as he speaks without moving, “do you plot against me?”

You wince and shake your head, pressing your hands to either side of your neck, “no, Mr. Laufeyson, I wouldn’t–”

“Be calm,” he opens his eyes and his head lolls to face you, “I am being facetious.”

You stare at him and blink.

“Sarcasm,” he declares and bends his arms around his head, stretching his long back with an arch. His arms bulge as the muscles in his chest strain against his skin. “What has you awake so early?”

“Tea,” you bounce on your feet, “I wanted to surprise you–”

“Mmm,” he rumbles and scratches his chest, “you can be so precious.”

You nearly wiggle at the praise. He doesn’t hate you anymore. You’re being good.

“Have you made your list?” He asks, groaning as he sits up.

“My list?” You echo in confusion.

“For our journey,” he leans against the headboard and smooth his hair, though a curl stubborn stands at an angle.

“I will,” you step forward and pour a cup of tea. You bring it around to him and place it on the night table, “no milk.”

“Ah, good,” he hooks a finger through the handle. His lifts his other hand flicks his index towards you, “take this off,”

“Mr. Laufeuson?” You flinch.

He arches a brow, overriding further argument. You bunch up the satin in your hands and pull the nightgown above your waist. You shimmy it up over your head and slip the straps down your arms. You put it in a heap on the side of the bed, just by his legs.

“Turn,” he twirls his finger.

You obey and put your back to him. The bed creaks as the cool morning air pricks your skin. You jump as he touches the hot flesh along your ass. You hiss and ball your fists up as the bruises thrum.

“Mmm, it should heal,” he retracts his hand, the headboard knocking against the wall again. You hang your head and let out a shaky breath. “Well, pet, you may sit and have your tea before we begin the day.”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you reach for the nightie and he tisks.

“Ah, leave it,” he demands, “I prefer you like this.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you acquiesce and stiffly march forward, curling around to the other side of the bed. You pour yourself a cup as you feel him watching you.

“And you are still excited?” He prompts.

You bat your lashes at him as you cradle your cup.

“About the trip?”

“Oh, yes,” you nod and blow over the steaming tea.

“But you are nervous,” he states, his gaze boring down on you.

“Yes,” you lower your cup over your lap. “Trying not to be.”

“No, it is good, you are well to be cautious,” he girds, “you’ve met most of my family, being confined with them is another task.”

You nod and stare down into the amber breakfast tea. He sips and lets out a deep breath, a rumble rising from his chest. You glance over as he traces his finger along the rim.

“Stay close to me and all should be fine,” he sighs, a strand of anxiety in his timbre, “yes, I do think it is our best plan.”

You bring the cup to your lips and taste the stringent tea. It’s too strong for you but you drink anyway. Your mind isn’t on the tea, it’s on that word he keeps using. ‘Our’? No, it’s his and yours; what he has and what he allows you. One moment, you are adversaries, the next, he speaks as if you’re allies.

You don’t understand him and his moods, you just know you must appease them.

✨

Mr. Laufeyson picks your outfit. A black miniskirt and a white camisole, along with a pair of sheer stockings. You note that it’s rather similar to the maid costume he’d liked so much before. You don’t linger on the thought long before you begin the day.

You have your list of to do’s; the first being, make your own list. You don’t know the first thing about packing. Before, Mr. Laufeyson gave you a carefully curated inventory, but now you have to figure out what you need. That’s a question you rarely consider.

You type out two things before you feel lost; clothes and soap. Well, that’s not very helpful. Which clothes? How do you dress for Wimplesnatch or whatever that thing is? You still don’t know what exactly this celebration is. Is it like Christmas? Or Halloween? Do you need a costume?

You type into the search bar and find a website that generates packing lists. You’re slightly amazed by its existence. It reassures you that you’re not the most clueless person on the planet. You don’t know how many days you’re going to be away so you put in a week and hope for the best.

That looks better. You copy down the list by hand and set it aside. You start a second, one you don’t need help with.

‘Electric, rent, Leslie, groceries…’

You tally up the new deposit in your account into your debts. You login in to your online account and click around. You usually just go to the bank but when you went to get your direct deposit information for the agency, the bank offered a virtual sign in. You’re confused by all the different numbers and buttons.

You go to the FAQ and scroll. You finally figure out how to pay a bill and search in your email for the digital bills you let stack up unread. You add the payees one by one before you attempt payment. You check and recheck each amount before sending it off. When you’re done, your heart lurches at the amount leftover. It’s almost all gone.

You exhale in relief. You can’t go off not knowing your dad’s taken care of. You didn’t part on good terms but he’s still your dad and he’s still very sick. Maybe you should go say goodbye…

“Pet,” Mr. Laufeyson startles you as he struts in through the open door, “ah, I’ve found you.”

You turn in the seat and watch him roll in a large suitcase behind him. He drags it towards the desk and wheels it to face you. It is the colour of lilacs with rose gold zippers. It’s so pretty.

“There you are. It should suffice,” he slaps the top before letting it go.

Your eyes round as you admire the bag. It’s yours? You reach tentatively to touch it before recoiling.

“Thank you, it’s so nice,” you smile. “Erm, I was thinking…” you reach back and grab the first list, an asterisk next to one of the items, “gas money? Do you–”

He interrupts you with a laugh, “pet, don’t bother with all that. You only need to bring yourself. Besides, you should save your money. My mother does love to spend and she will surely have some special plans.”

“Oh,” you seal your lips and twist in the seat. You reach to exit out of the window but before you can, the screen is spun away from you.

Mr. Laufeyson angles the laptop towards him and bends to scan the screen. His eyebrow furrows and he looks at you in alarm.

“Did your stipend not go through? I will call the bank–”

You gulp, “it did, I just–”

He clicks and you grip the edge of the desk to keep from grabbing him. What is he doing? His eyes flit down the screen.

“You… you’re still paying for the fetid old beast?” He snarls.

“Mr. Laufeyson, he’s my dad–”

“A father who never once took you on a holiday? Or a simple road trip? Yes, he is a prize. If I knew my money would be siphoned into his ungrateful hands–”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Laufeyson,” you pout and rock in the chair, “I wasn’t trying to be bad.”

He huffs and stands, his hands going to his hips. He looks down at you and you wilt. He rolls his shoulders and drops his arms.

“I know you meant well,” he sighs and feels around his back, sliding his wallet from his pants pocket, “you will take the gold card for the trip.”

“Mr. Laufeyson, I can’t–”

“You will,” he picks out the gold plastic and places it on the open laptop, “I cannot have my family thinking I pay you pennies."

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor

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nivisdreaming · 1 year

Note

i have a request 👉👈 what do you think aftercare with dom!eddie would look like if reader used their safeword, but they were really upset about having to do that? maybe they’re feeling a little unsafe and don’t know what to do, cause they just wanna take care of eddie 🥺❤️

anon you look into my brain. i literally fell asleep thinking about this the night before i got this request??? anyway. i can’t resist doing a full thing for this i have many thoughts for you sweet flower child.

Summary: Overstimulated and panicked, reader has to safeword during a scene. Feeling guilty for cutting it off midway and scaring Eddie, they desperately try to make it up to him in what they believe to be the only way possible. Eddie puts them back in their place in the sweetest manner possible.

Tags: smut to hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff, overstimulation, choking, safeword use, anxious!reader, gn!reader, soft dom!eddie, entirely excessive use of petnames and praise by author

WC: ~900

“Just one more baby, come one more time for me. You can do it, be good for me.” Eddie picks up his pace for what you’re convinced must be the sixth or seventh time at this point as he leans forward to growl in your ear, “You want to make me feel good, right? Then come all over my cock, do it, obey me.” His hand juts out to wrap around your throat, leaving your head spinning, and not just from the overstimulation. Between his grip around you and his thrusting you can’t catch your breath, can’t slow down the pounding of your heart, can’t move, can’t take it anymore, can’t take more.

Fuck. This is when your supposed to safeword, right? This was one of those scenarios, where the scene is too real and the adrenaline searing painfully instead of pleasurably. The word exists for a reason. It’s not bad to use it. Right? Eddie won’t be mad? He always said you could use it no matter what. Friend’s don’t lie. You would still be good. Still be good enough.

“Metallica!” The word jumped from you in between gasps for air, and the squeezing around your throat ceased, making it so much easier to think already. Your vision came back into focus, and the thumping in your chest slows enough to lower the ringing in your ears. Thoughts become clear enough to process the situation just as you make eye contact with a panicked Eddie, who has pulled out and stopped touching you altogether, his hands raised in front of his bare chest as if to show surrender. You can’t suppress the pang of guilt that spreads through you at the fear in his eyes.

His jaw simply hangs open for a moment, as if he can’t quite get his bearings, but the tears that well in your eyes spring him into action. “Honey, honey, don’t cry baby, what’s wrong? I didn’t hurt you, did I? Let me see your neck, I didn’t squeeze the wrong spot, did I?” He lunges forward once again and reaches to inspect your throat, but you flinch backwards instinctively. The twist of guilt hurts so much worse than the soreness in your core from how hard he had fucked you. “Baby, please talk to me, was the ‘obey’ thing too much? You flinched away from me, did I scare you?”

You shake your head no and scoot back towards him with a sniffle, grabby hands raised to cling onto his bicep. You hide your face in his shoulder and muffle your words as you speak, “I’m sorry Teddy, it wasn’t your fault, promise. ‘M so sorry…” His mouth flies open to scold you for apologizing, but quickly shuts again when you begin to kiss up his chest and onto his neck. “Please let me make it up to you, Eds, can still be good, promise I can still be good. Can use my mouth, sir, do all the work and take care of you, or let you rough me up and fuck my throat. Whatever you want, I’ll give, Eddie, I’ll be so good for you, please let me help,” He finally cuts off your rambling by capturing your lips in his own for a split second, only to pull back immediately and fill up any potential space you could use to continue groveling.

“None of that, little one, thought I’d taught you better than that, hm?” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I will never, ever, punish you for using your safeword, or ask you to keep going after safewording unless the problem is resolved.” Another kiss is delivered to each of your cheeks. “You are my good baby because you are you, sweetheart. You don’t need to do anything extra to be absolutely perfect for me. You could say I could never touch you again, and I would still look at you like you created the moon and the stars, hun.” One more sweet kiss to your lips, like taking a full breath for the first time all night.

When he pulls away this time, tears are fully streaming down your face, and a few have even started to pinprick to the surface of his own eyes. You resist the urge to wipe them away. “Not mad at me? Even though I didn’t listen?” Your voice comes out breathy and soft, mumbles cutting down your words and making them sound childish.

“Sweetheart, you listened so well. You listened to your own body, and to the love of your life, who wants nothing more than for you to stop any situation in which you are not comfortable. I could never be mad at my good little baby. Never.” He pulls you in for a tight hug, both of you squeezing each other tight until both yours eyes start to droop in exhaustion. Eddie gives you a sleepy smile and hauls a blanket over the both of you, “We can talk more about what happened in the morning, okay little one? It’s bedtime for my good baby now, gotta let you get all rested up and feeling better. I’ll hold you all night though, okay? You need anything, you wake me, don’t try to get up, you know how shaky your legs get. Let me take care of you, now. You’re safe in my arms, love. Have sweet dreams, I love you so much.” You’re asleep by the time he’s a quarter of the way into his talk, but he can’t bring himself to mind. Your sweet snores make great background noise anyway.

#thanks for requesting btw!!!#this was so much fun #i need more excuses to be sappy #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader smut #dom!eddie munson #sub!reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff

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hopelessromantic5 · 2 months

Text

Part 2 of ghost-visit merthur Drabble.

Magic reveal included.

The blonde studied his manservant, as he was in the habit of doing, lately. Merlin was nervous and perhaps even…scared?

What possible reason could Merlin have to fear him?

“I’m not going to like this, am I?” Arthur did not need an answer, he already knew that he wouldn’t.

“Maybe-“ Merlin stopped and started again. “It might be easier if I show you.” He was quiet, only illuminated by the light coming into the princes chambers from the corridor.

Arthur honestly didn’t have any idea what was about to happen.

When it was over, he felt like an idiot for not seeing it sooner.

The first thing Merlin did was cup his palms together, in front of his chest, eyes closed, as if he were praying.

He, all at once, opened his hands and his eyes, revealing a glowing blue butterfly, Arthur focused on it only for a heartbeat, gasping at the sight.

Then he caught Merlin’s own gaze, blue eyes turned golden like the heat of the sun, shining brighter than any fire Arthur had ever seen.

The Prince felt many things. Confusion and shame and anger, at himself, at Merlin, at his father.

But surprisingly, Arthur felt no fear. He didn’t get that sickening drop in his stomach that normally occurred when confronted with magic.

He had the quick thought that maybe it was because the magic was always being used by people who wanted him dead.

Instead of that unbearable chill in the air, Merlin’s magic left Arthur feeling like he’d just been out training in the summer. He felt renewed, recharged.

When Merlin let the butterfly disappear into the room, brightening the space about a foot in either direction of its flapping wings, his eyes faded back to their stormy blue, rainclouds over the ocean.

Arthur was speechless.

A million scenes over the past few years played through his mind’s eye with this new knowledge now secured. Everything seemed to make a little more sense. The prince never being able to find Merlin in times of trouble, his manservant always disappearing and hiding behind trees while bandits were being tripped by roots that weren’t there before, felled by branches falling at the perfect time. Victories being won against foes that Arthur had no recollection of defeating.

Arthur should be dead ten times over, probably. If not for the man who stood before him. If not for magic.

He couldn’t find words for a long time.

Merlin did not rush him.

He just stood silently, waiting for whatever fate he assumed was awaiting him. Arthur could only imagine the worst case scenarios playing through his manservant’s mind and it was enough to make him sick.

Finally after taking a deep breath into his lungs, the prince spoke.

“I understand.”

Merlin blinked his eyes three times, an instinct in Arthur nearly verbalized that he was akin to an owl, he thought better of it.

“You-you what?”

“I understand why you didn’t tell me. I can only assume this is not a fact that you share with many people, let alone…you know, me.” Arthur’s nerves were beginning to catch up to him. He wasn’t used to being so bare and unguarded, and certainly not in front of Merlin.

But another fact he was settling upon him was that Merlin had the upper hand here. He’d possibly always had it, from that very first day. Yet, even when Merlin was his most fed up, his most aggravated with Arthur, even at times when they refused to speak to each other out of pure stubbornness, Merlin never turned on him. Never even used his magic to give Arthur a good smack over the head (that he probably deserved).

Even when Merlin had to watch his own people die on the pyre, he never turned on Arthur.

Not even when he learned what Arthur did that awful day. A quiet Druid camp drowned in the screams of the innocent because he was too much of a coward to stand up to his father, and not enough of a Prince to get his knights to obey his orders of sparing the children. Even though, he failed.

Merlin never lost faith in him. The prince still sees it, even now.

“You’re not…angry?” This voice was small compared to his usual boisterous demeanor.

“I am angry.” Arthur nodded. “But only at our circumstances. If I were not here and you were not there, none of this would be as difficult as it is.”

“You must know,” Merlin whispered. “I’ve only ever used it to help you. To ensure that you and this kingdom were safe.” The prince saw him swallow, one of his many tells. Merlin is nervous. “Arthur, I told you this once before, but back home I was…lost. I had all of this pent up energy and nowhere to put it down, I felt I had no true purpose there. I’ve since learned many things that all led me to one conclusion. I’m supposed to be here, at your side. To make sure you actually survive long enough to ascend the throne-“

Arthur almost interjected to say he didn’t need protecting but clamped his mouth shut because he knew, now, that wasn’t necessarily true, as much as he hated to admit it.

“-but also because…Well,” Merlin cleared his throat, Arthur took a moment to wonder what he was about to say that was causing him to be so antsy. “I do not think I could leave, even if you ordered me to go. I…I think being away from you would probably rip me apart.” He laughed a humorless, pitiful laugh and was looking down at feet. Arthur watched a tear fall from his eyes like the first raindrop and land on the stone floor.

“I could never send you away.” Arthur shook his head. “You’re just as necessary to this kingdom’s survival as I am.”

Merlin audibly gasped, Arthur went on as if he didn’t hear it.

“I want Camelot to be…I don’t know, good, for lack of a better word. I want it to be welcoming and bright and full of life. Not plagued with death and decay and heartache. I do not want even our poorest citizens to have to wonder what they will eat in the winter. I don’t want another person stepping foot into this kingdom and immediately witnessing a beheading, or a pyre being lit. That is not the kind of place I wish to govern. All I can do is my best, but I need you here. I need you with me. I only ever considered that I could truly change the way things are, when,” he took a heavy breath, “when I realized that you actually believed in me. That you, an insubordinate, treasonous, outsider that had absolutely no reason to ever think such things, you actually had faith that I could do it. And since that day, your faith has been what keeps me going. So you can’t-“

Arthur hadn’t dared to watch Merlin while he spilled his messy heart all over the room. The first shining of the sun was rising over the horizon and soon, they would have to face each other in the daylight.

“You can’t leave, okay?”

The prince walked further into his chambers as he spoke, away from the door, lest any of the guards overhear their conversation.

“That may be selfish of me to request, knowing that you are constantly in danger here. But I am also in a position where I can make sure that you never face the hands of my father. I would never let him hurt you, you know that, right?”

A chuckle was heard from where Merlin still stood behind him,

“I do now.” It was emotional and ridiculous but Arthur was relieved. That Merlin was still Merlin.

“Good.” The prince sighed. “We can discuss this more tomorrow. You can tell me everything I’ve, apparently, missed.”

“Absolutely, sire.”

Arthur turned after a few moments of silence and Merlin was still standing there, in the middle of the room.

“Merlin?”

“Yes, sire?”

“Is there something else you wanted to say?” The prince couldn’t help the smile that was creeping up his face.

“Um…” The raven boy cleared his throat, again. Looking unsure, with more light in the room, Arthur could see his brows pinched. “No, no. Nothing we can’t discuss tomorrow.”

“You’re sure?” At this point Arthur was wondering if either he or the both of them were in immediate danger.

“Well I’m not exactly sure if she would want me to tell y-“

“She?!” Arthur voice, embarrassingly, cracked in the middle of his outraged cry. Merlin looked at him like he had goat horns growing out of his head.

In a much calmer tone, Arthur continued.

“And who is ‘she’?”

Something bloomed on Merlin’s face that had Arthur wary.

“Before we get to that, I have a question for you.”

“For me?”

“Considering this is officially the first day that we’re being honest with each other, someone told me that you have a secret of your own and I’d like to know what it is.”

Arthur, dumbfounded and feeling somewhat ambushed, could not think of anything to say other than,

“I didn’t hear a question.”

Like an idiot.

“Must you be so difficult? What is it you’re not telling me? How do you even have time in the day to keep secrets? I know where you are every minute.”

“Technically, I already told you.”

Arthur decided he would much rather brood out the window, staring at the sunset than watch Merlin flinch away from him in disgust.

“When?” The man honestly had no idea.

The prince rolled his eyes, pushing away a stupid smile.

“Just now, you idiot.”

“Did I miss part of the conversation? When did you-“ at the sound of Merlin cutting himself short, Arthur’s neck swiveled. He watched the pieces come together and realization finally hit.

He looked confused.

“I’m confused,” Of course. “You can’t possibly mean-“

“When I said your faith keeps me going, I meant it, Merlin.” There he was, standing in the morning rays, breathtaking as ever, the reason Camelot remains standing. Looking at Arthur as if he were speaking a different language.

“I rise out of that bed every morning simply because I know you will be there.”

This was not the prince and his manservant, this was just Merlin and Arthur. Two boys that met under unfortunate and unfair circumstances.

“And in those gut wrenching moments when I can’t find you, the fear feels as if it might kill me. If anything ever happened-“ Arthur turned his head away and swallowed a sob that threatened to ricochet through him at the mere thought.

“I would probably burn the entire world to the ground.” He whispered. More as a thought to himself, a thought he had never let come to pass.

It was silent for a few heartbeats. Merlin broke it.

“There is a word for that.”

Arthur hung his head at that. Defeat.

He’d finally been bested.

It finally caught him. He’d been evading it for years before Merlin came along, always sidestepping its ever-growing reach.

“Yes, there is.” He admitted. The morning was surreal and glowing, everything had a halo of rainbows. Arthur was running on nothing but adrenaline and at his confession, all of the energy completely drained out of him.

“Though,” Merlin took a step in his direction, and then another. “I shouldn’t. Against my better judgment…I love you, too.”

Arthur had been branded in that moment. As if Merlin had touched his bare skin with a red-hot poker. The words echoed through his emptying mind and bounced off the walls of his chambers.

“I don’t believe you.” Arthur could not catch them before the words fell out of his face.

He was met with chuckling.

Had he said something funny?

“You don’t believe me? The entire bloody kingdom can see it and you, stubborn arse, refuse to believe it, of course.” Merlin rolled his eyes. “Why would I tell you I love you if I didn’t mean it?”

“To make me feel better?” Arthur offered.

“As much as I would hate to hurt your feelings, I would never lie to you about that.”

Arthur suddenly had a thought.

“If that’s the case then who’s the woman?”

“What woman?”

“Earlier you said you weren’t sure if ‘she’ wanted you to tell me. Who’s she? And what did she tell you?”

“Oh.” Merlin fell silent.

And simultaneously, the room went dark.

Arthur’s first thought was that he blacked out. But no. He was still standing in place, he could hear the bustle of the castle beginning to rise for the day.

Someone had merely closed the curtains, blocking out the sun completely.

“Merlin? Did you do that?” Instinctively, his hand when to the hilt of his sword.

“No.” Followed immediately by, “Take my hands.”

“What?”

“I’m going to show you something. Take my hands.”

Arthur could only ever trust Merlin. With everything. His heart, his life, his kingdom.

His manservant’s eyes began to glow the second their hands touched.

It took the prince by surprise by he didn’t pull away. It seemed to take Merlin somewhat by surprise, also. His hands were buzzing, humming with power, Arthur fingers became numb from it after seconds.

Over the ringing in his ears the prince heard Merlin mumble,

“She’s here.”

The buzzing of his skin ceased, his eyes remained golden, blinking and unseeing.

“Who’s here?”

“Turn around and see for yourself.”

Arthur’s brows pinched in confusion, the heavy door at the entrance to his chambers had not been opened. They would’ve heard it.

He turned, dropping Merlin’s hands in the process, shocked beyond words to actually see a figure standing there.

Pale and beautiful. And sad.

He knew her upon sight.

Not because he had any memory of her face to call upon, no portraits were ever painted of her, but he knew, the way every child knows their mother.

He was stuck in place, memorizing every detail that he could to take with him later. To cherish.

“Arthur, my boy.” She spoke softly, only interrupted by her own crying.

Rather than trying to speak again, she crossed the distance between them and engulfed him in a hug.

The hug Arthur thought he would never have. The warmth of which, he’d gone an entire childhood without.

There truly was nothing more healing than being surrounded by a person who loves you, unconditionally.

“H-how did- why-?” Arthur cut each thought short because they did not seem important enough.

“I’m so sorry, mother.” He whispered into his mothers shoulder, silently letting wells of tears flow. “You should never have met such an awful fate because of me.”

“Hush now, none of that.” The Queen placed her hands on either side of Arthur’s face, holding him up. “I have been here with you, all this time, Arthur. That is all I ever wanted; To be with you. That is the only regret I carry regarding your birth, I would do it all again, if it meant you got the chance to live.”

“You’ve been…here? In the castle?”

She nodded.

“Seeing but never seen.” Arthur was both elated and heartbroken at seeing his mother this way. “That was the rule. Though, I think with your friend over there, anything is possible.”

“Yes, I’m beginning to think he’s more powerful than he lets on.” The absurdity of this conversation was not lost on him. If anyone had told him five hours ago that this would be his new normal, he’d probably have them thrown in the stocks.

His mother laughed and it was a beautiful sound, like the the high chiming of the wind charms made by a woman in the lower town, citizens hang them to hear them sing when the Earth is speaking through the breeze.

“I think you underestimate him quite a bit, your highness.” She shook her head at him, as every other mother had that Arthur always looked upon and wondered. “Merlin is magic. He is the power of the earth made human. And his loyalty is to you. You are a very fortunate king, indeed.”

“Not King yet, mother.”

She sobered immediately from her playfulness.

Arthur did not have to guess why.

“Do not listen to your father, Arthur. It may go against all you’ve been taught but he is not always right. In fact, he is almost always wrong. Especially in terms of political affairs, but always with you. What he says to you, of you, is what he thinks of himself. He is angry because he is getting old and he cannot control time. He has taken his life’s hardships out on you and you never deserved that, Arthur. You are a great man and you will make a fantastic King.”

As the last words fell, she began to fade, slowly. But her skin was turning more translucent with every second. Arthur mourned all over again.

“Our time has run out, my boy, even our Merlin can only hold the connection so long. But I will always be here, should you need me.”

“I love you, mother.”

“I love you, too, Arthur.” Faint, but Arthur heard it.

Then, she was gone.

And now Arthur had to pick up the eight year old version of himself that was currently balled up in the center of his chest, and put him back where he goes. In a dark dusty corner of his mind.

It was quiet for a few moments.

The prince turned to find Merlin sat in the floor, the same spot he had been standing, on the other side of the room.

The manservant rose shakily.

“Well, that was…”

“Yeah, it was.” Arthur sighed, long and exhausted.

“Merlin, you are going to go tell my father that I have been unwell since supper last night. Then you will come back here.” Arthur began to unclad himself of belts and tunics.

“Tomorrow, we talk. Today, We are taking a well-deserved nap.”

“You’re inviting me to…take a nap with you.” The blonde could hear the smile creeping into Merlin’s voice as he spoke but decided he was too tired to scold him.

“Yes, Merlin. Or you’re welcome to go sleep in Gaius’ chambers with him banging beakers and books around all day. Be my guest.”

“I’ll be back in a flash, sire.”

Arthur turned just in time to see Merlin wink at him before leaving.

So, this was the new normal.

Arthur liked it.

#merthur #merlin #merlin and arthur #arthur pendragon #merthur fic #bbc merlin #part 2 #Igraine #thanks for all the love on the first part #wanted to get this out before moving onto my more depressing project #lol #Arthur is jealous #it’s kinda funny

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fuckmyskywalker · 3 months

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i need soft dom anakin but he still is strict. like i need some lovey dovey stuff where he holds you close and whispers to you, as you whimper and bite your fingers just turning him on even more. he doesn’t let you get away and your obedient to him cause why wouldn’t you be when he’s literally making you shake and tremble and taking care of your body so nicely. he’s the kind that would eat you out until you came, and then continued to go down just because he wanted to pull one more out of you and all you could do is whine and take it

and, your new anon

-🫧

(my mind is fucked)

What a pretty new anon, mwah.

I love soft dom Ani, he is so sweet yet so authoritarian. He is devoted to your pleasure and he is so gentle when it comes to make you feel good. He is a big fan of overstimulation too.

"Just one more, baby. Just give me another one and I'll let you rest," He says while he pries your thighs open again, settling back in the middle. Your poor, abused clit is sucked and teased raw, your inner thighs are so sticky and shaky, but you can't say no to him. It's physically impossible.

"I can't," You sob, shaking your head and reaching to brush some hairs away from his sweaty forehead.

"Yes, yes you can angel."

And you know he is lying, it's not gonna be just another orgasm, he is definitely going to pull a second one, and possibly a third one. His tongue lays flat on your dripping folds, mixing your sweet slick with his saliva. He is noisy, he is sloppy, and Anakin moans every time he eats you out because he just loves it so much. His hands hook underneath your thighs to pull you impossibly closer, to bury his face in what he calls heaven. The overstimulation becomes too much in matter of minutes, and it's easier to obey when he whispers "Come for me" this time. Anakin doesn't care that you suffocate him with your soft thighs, he could die in between your legs, mouth devouring your puffy, wet pussy until you feel you are about to pass out.

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya answers!#🫧 anon #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker

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sorrowfulrosebud · 4 months

Note

I hope you know you've given me puppy hybrid Bakugou brain rot, so you get another ask as a repercussion u3u

Whats the scenario or head canon of why we had to start putting a muzzle on hybrid Bakugou when going out? Did he bite, start a fight, did something out of spite? (Yes, that was a purposeful rhyme)

Gimme the tea 🫖

Blue? Wolf? Angel? 01? However you wish to be referred to, I LOVE YOU AND YOUR BIG SMART BRAIN MWA MWA. Also this got long hehehe

Warnings: bratty kid, animalistic Bakugou, wounds, reader passes out

I imagine Katsuki would have to start wearing the muzzle as soon as he left the shelter. In my AU, he was in a fighting ring (original, I know), so he still snaps when he gets frightened or angry. He doesn’t mean to, not in the slightest. But when you have to fight to the death for scraps, or a ratty blanket to keep you warm in a cramped and filthy dog cage, it becomes a nasty habit.

You try to keep it off him as much as possible unless you’re going out. It was a very long process to get him to relax even slightly with you, which was honestly a feat in of itself.

You listen to his body language. He comes to you when he has a problem. If he tenses when you’re petting him, you retract your hand and wait for the signal for you to continue, if any. You leave his food alone, because it’s his. You allow him to nap, knowing the poor creature needs some proper sleep.

It’s easier in the privacy of your own home, in a comforting environment that Bakugou can explore a million times over and never find anything new. In public though, when the screaming child demands to touch his sensitive tail, or when the shih tzu hybrid is sniffing him, it can be so overwhelming for the pup.

“Are you all ready to go, sweet thing?” You smile at your new puppy boy.

Katsuki growled lowly, his collar and leash loose on his neck. The muzzle was wrapped around his lower face, protecting himself from a future lawsuit. He tugged at the metal bars irritatedly. You sigh in empathy.

“I know, sweetpea. I’m afraid that until the padded muzzle comes, it has to be the one provided by the shelter. On the bright side, you can come outside for a walk! It’s a lovely day outside and you can meet the neighbours!” You explain happily.

Katsuki chuffs and rolls his eyes, walking ahead and pulling you on the leash as you squeak in surprise.

“See, I told you it was nice! How’s your collar feeling, honey?” You ask him gently, not wanting to overwhelm him. Katsuki’s pupils were blown with all sorts of new smells and sounds.

He never knew what squirrels sounded like. They scurried in the trees a lot more delicately than the rats in the compound. The screams of children were from fun as their parents chased and played with them. The new pups in the compound were snatched from their mother and sold or… Katsuki shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that place any more.

It was all so bewildering for him, but he seemed to be enjoying it as he threw you a nod.

“Aw I’m so glad!” You laugh softly. You stop near the local convenience store, the thought of a cold ice cream tickling your fancy. You call out to Katsuki to stop as he obeys.

“Do you fancy an ice cream? It’s such a hot day today, and you’ve taken everything in so wonderfully,” you ask him.

Katsuki cocked his head, not knowing what “ice cream” was. He had sometimes heard his old handlers talk about it, but he’d never been able to try any. You felt a pang of guilt at the realisation that he’d never had the sweet treat.

“Let’s go and get you one. I’m sure you’ll like it,” you promise him softly, allowing him to walk in first. He jumped slightly at the little ding-dong of the door, growling at it as you explained what it was.

Despite his grumbling and the occasional bark, he was behaving himself remarkably.

The ice cream freezer was thankfully stocked full to the brim, with flavours of nearly every description.

“Ah, here they are! I hope they have some that’s hybrid friendly. Katsuki, why don’t you come take a look and see what you want to try,” you encourage him. Katsuki froze a little. You were… giving HIM the choice? Was this some sort of trap? Your soft smile made him feel slightly at ease.

Plus, you would never hit him in a store, right?

He takes a look at the flavours in the freezer, entranced by the huge red strawberries and slabs of chocolate. He was about to grab an ice lolly with a motif of a raspberry when a shriek pierces his ears.

His hands slap to his head, covering the fluffy things as he snaps his head at the source. He lets out an automatic growl as his teeth curl back. A small child, not much older than 6 is staring back at him with a delighted look. In his sticky hand held a melting ice lolly.

“Doggy!” He shrieks excitedly, jumping up and down. A woman, whom you presume is his mother, is taking a phone call further down the aisle.

Katsuki pressed further into you when the kid tries touching him with sticky fingers. You immediately stand in front of him, trying to calm the puppy boy down and deal with the kid.

“Hi there sweetie, I’m sorry but Katsuki doesn’t like being touched,” you try to explain carefully, getting on the child’s level. You’re taken aback when the little monster’s face goes red and he lets out an ear-piercing scream that has Katsuki starting to hyperventilate a bit.

“NO! WANT TO PET THE DOGGY! MAMAAAA!” The kid wails, the woman walking to her son. She looks you up and down as she holds her son by the shoulders.

“What seems to be the problem here?” She sneers. You make sure Katsuki has space to cool down as you try to explain.

“Your son here is trying to pet my hybrid, but that is not something that he is comfortable at all with, so I’m trying to explain-” you were cut off by the woman.

“So? The beast is muzzled and leashed, why can’t my angel pet him?” She gave you a dirty look, as if she could look past your puppyboy who looked like he would rather be anywhere else.

“Katsuki is really not comfortable with that. It’s his first time out of the house in a long time and-” you were once again cut off by the woman’s snooty laughter.

“Well if he’s such a ‘rabid beast’ then he shouldn’t be out of the house,” she snarls viciously. You didn’t even notice the kid sneaking behind you until Katsuki lets out a vicious growl, and the sound of 2 screams fill the air.

Katsuki waited for the paramedics to bandage you up as they took you to hospital. They found you bleeding in Katsuki’s arms, his claw marks identical to the ones in your chest.

Turns out the little bastard had snuck behind you and yanked on Katsuki’s leash. Being already wound up and anxious, the sharp leash tug threw him into a frenzy as he instinctively went to claw the threat. You pushed the kid off in time, taking the blow instead.

Katsuki could only stare at you as cotton filled his mouth. His mouth twitched as he started trembling. He had … hurt you…

Your shriek of pain could never leave his head, him not even registering that he had made you bleed until the metallic smell hit his nose. The kid started wailing after being shoved on the floor, the mother picking him up and running away.

You look at him, then at the blood and you try to smile. You swallow, the shock of the pain making it difficult to see.

“D-don’t worry K’s’ki! I do- I don’ blame you,” you start to slur out, the shock and blood loss making you woozy. You slump against your pup, breathing shallow and light. Katsuki whined anxiously, looking for help.

A witness in the same aisle came forward slowly, aware of Katsuki’s hyperventilating and anxious state. He clutched you close to him, sitting on the ground as he trembled and nosed your face. Blood was everywhere, staining everything.

The customer slowly made his way to Katsuki, clicking her tongue softly to get his attention. Katsuki looked wild as he snarled savagely, pulling you tighter. She held her hands up slowly, demonstrating she wasn’t a threat.

“I’m going to call for help. I need to make sure that your owner is okay. I’m going to be super duper careful to make sure I don’t hurt them any more. You can still hold them, I just need to make sure their pulse is still there. Is that okay?” She spoke slowly and calmly, getting emergency services on her phone.

Katsuki snarled, but the claws digging into you relaxed slightly. The customer let a small smile out as she checked your pulse and referred everything back to the emergency services. She was slow and methodical, careful not to move too quickly and scare the trembling pup.

“There we go, all done. I saw everything you know,” she said quietly, kneeling near the two of you. Katsuki whined quietly, chuffing your hair.

“You were scared, and that monster of a boy didn’t listen. There are cameras everywhere, so I’m certain nothing will happen,” she said firmly.

Her hand slowly lifted up, paying close attention to his body language. Her hand slowly found refuge in his hair, slowly petting his ears. Katsuki could feel his heartbeat slow down, just for a moment, before it spiked again at the sound of the siren of the ambulance.

The paramedics filtered through with animal control, surprised to see a muzzled hybrid already collared and leashed holding on to the patient. The lead paramedic slowly approached you, the uniform and sterile smell making Katsuki snarl loudly and pinning you back to him. His eyes were like pin pricks as he held you tight.

“Heyyy, there you go buddy. Is that your owner there?” The paramedic questioned him quietly, bringing the cart to carry you beside her. Katsuki snarled as they got closer.

“I know, I know. It must be scary being in this situation. The lady on the phone told me what happened. You didn’t mean it, did you?” the paramedic prayed her words were getting through to him.

It seemed her prayers were answered when his grip lets loose slightly.

“You were frightened, weren’t you? The kid yanked on your leash? That must have hurt,” she murmured to him, getting more on his level. She was making slow progress to you, getting anxious when she sees the amount of blood lost.

“But now your owner is hurting. Can we take them to get all fixed up? You can ride with us in the ambulance,” she promised, holding her hand out. Katsuki growled, but with a small whine, relinquished his grasp on you.

The paramedic smiled at him, slowly picking you up as she dashed you to the cart, strapping you in as she rushed you to the ambulance outside. Katsuki whined and followed you, desperate to keep your pained face in his vision.

He rode with you the entire way to the hospital, whining when he couldn’t see past the curtain of the emergency room.

The next few hours were hell. He sat next to the curtained room, jumping up when the nurse talks to him.

“You’re very lucky. The wounds were relatively deep, but it was the shock that made them pass out. We stitched up the wound, so now we’re going to monitor your owner in a different room. Would you like to come with?” He asked. Katsuki nodded frantically.

He couldn’t help the whimper when he saw your bed being wheeled out, the bandages reaching a good way across your chest. You were docked into your new room. All Katsuki could do was wait for you to wake up.

Katsuki was a mess. He couldn’t stop whimpering to himself, scared shitless. You were the only person to ever treat him with such kindness, to talk to him like a person and not a dog. You were kind, and gentle, and-

Probably gonna hand him back to the shelter. He knew what that meant though, considering this was his ‘saving grace’. He wouldn’t get any more chances. He tried to toughen himself up, beating his leg in rage as he prepares himself for your rage.

The rage, however, never came. Katsuki must have fallen asleep, since he was awoken by the gentle call of his name. His head snapped up, mixed emotions when he sees your confused orbs.

“What… happened?” You slurred out, sleep still overtaking your system. Your eyes snapped open at the recollection of events.

“Oh god! Are you alright?!” You gasp. Katsuki looked at you dumbfounded. His body trembled. Even when he had hurt you… made you pass out… you still wouldn’t say a bad word against him. Your eyes softened as tears breached his waterline, making his beautiful lashes clump together.

“No no no no, sweet thing! What’s wrong?!” You coo at him, sitting up. He looks pointedly at your chest. You let out an “oh”.

“Katsuki, this wasn’t your fault. That little boy wouldn’t leave you alone, completely ignoring that I said to leave you alone. He still did, despite you being clearly upset and went to yank on your leash! I couldn’t have them take you away from me, so I chose to take the blow instead,” you said firmly, placing a gentle hand on his clenched fist.

“I would do it a million times over for you,” you murmured to him, softly wiping his tears. He flinched slightly, before shakily nuzzling his hand into your palm.

“You’re my good boy, my sweet Katsuki,” you preen, rubbing your thumb across his cheek. His chest rumbles as he slowly ambles into your bed. He makes eye contact with you, something within him trying to force himself to stop. Your warm eyes don’t however, simply shifting along to make room.

He cuddles into you, careful of your wound as he licks your neck gently.

“M-miiiine,” he tried, the word new as it rolled on his tongue. Your head snapped to him, amazed at his first word. Your eyes watered as you pressed a kiss to his head.

“That’s right, puppy. You’re mine.”

@archer-fb had to expand the first word babe 🤭

#🥀 rambles #pretty flower bluewolfangel01 🌷#bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou #bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader fluff #hybrid bnha #hybrid bnha x reader #wolf hybrid bakugou #wolf hybrid bakugou angst #bakugou x reader angst #bakugou angst #bnha angst

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alicerosejensen · 11 months

Text

Zombie Movie

Warning: Dad! Leon; difficult relationship between father and daughter.

I have a cool request there in messages with Leon's son or daughter and I will try to answer it, but for now, again, Leon's dad and his teenage daughter

Part 2

To say that Leon loved his daughter would be an understatement. He literally adored her. This thirteen-year-old girl occupied his whole heart and Leon truly hated being away from his family. He still remembers how he first picked up this rosy-cheeked bundle of joy, which was so small and fragile that Leon was afraid to drop it or accidentally hurt it.

You always remembered with tenderness how he cooed with her, quickly getting used to how to properly hold the baby in your arms. He walked around the house with her and constantly told something, and how his pumpkin babbled with him.

Whereas everyone said that you became a mother too early, and Leon, on the contrary, considered himself already old to start a family, but this child ... You literally saw hope in his eyes when you told him about your pregnancy and he looked at you with fear, waiting decide whether you want to keep the child. And although he was scared, but above all, he is grateful to you, promising that he will do everything possible and impossible for the happiness of his family.

So when your baby was born, Leon spent all his free time when he was at home. Sometimes he even woke up in the middle of the night after another nightmare and silently approached the crib just looked at his girl, running his finger along her cheek.

You thought Leon was a good father. Of course, he sometimes drank if the mission was not entirely successful, but he rarely got drunk to the point of unconsciousness, believing that he had no right to it and saying that he did not want his daughter to see her father drunk. Leon always made his family a priority, but his work took up a lot of his time. Therefore, often at various holidays and events, Leon was simply absent. And while your girl was little, it was easier for Leon to make up for his absence. Gifts, games together, Leon even allowed to sit on his motorcycle, promising that as soon as she was a little older he would allow her to ride it a little. That was enough for your daughter as a child, but the more she grew up, the more acutely she felt the absence of her father.

The first time this was expressed by the fact that in kindergarten, while fulfilling the task of the teacher to draw her family, your daughter drew only you and herself holding her hand. An ordinary children's drawing, but when you asked her where dad was, she carelessly shaking her legs, sitting on a chair, she simply shrugged her shoulders.

"Dad at work"

You just pursed your lips but took your daughter by the hand, took the drawing and sincerely hoped that Leon would not ask anything, and although he noticed the drawing on the refrigerator door, he really did not say anything.

It was the first red flag, and now... take a deep breath. Your daughter obeys you without any scandals and always asks permission, but only from you. Not with Leon.

Transition is a tricky thing, and although D/N was mostly a calm child, this calmness did not extend to Leon. Teenage hormones seemed to be playing out in full, and D/N became a different kid.

"Can you put your phone away while you're at the table?" Leon asked his daughter in a calm tone, but D/N only gave him a displeased look and returned to correspondence with friends, ignoring the request.

Leon took a deep breath, looking back at you as you put the dinner on plates in kitchen. Her blond hair fell into her eyes as she continued to correspond with someone with a sly smile.

“Mommy, will you take Carmen and me to the cafe after the movie tomorrow?" You glanced at her as she reached out to retrieve her plate of pasta and immediately looked over to Leon as D/N waited for your response. After all, your husband hasn't been called anywhere yet, and you've had too much to do.

"Pumpkin, I'm too busy with work tomorrow, but dad can do it" Leon looked at you with gratitude as if you had just saved his life, but D/N did not seem pleased with this prospect, which is why she silently grabbed her fork immediately upset.

"No need." She grunted under her breath as she typed a message on her new phone. "Then we'll get there ourselves"

Leon swallowed all the words turning away and you yourself did not know how to save the situation. The family dinner took place in some tense atmosphere, never like when D/N was little and sat in a special high chair next to her dad, waiting for him to cut her sausages into small pieces. Leon was silent. You lightly kicked your husband under the table, nodding cautiously in the direction of your daughter. "Talk to her," a mute command causes Leon to put down his cutlery and turn to his daughter.

"What movie do you want to see?" Leon stares into his daughter's face, but she seems more engrossed in her phone. "D/N please put your phone down when someone is talking to you."

"You don't like that," she said, but didn't listen to her father. Instead, the fingers continued to quickly run across the screen, making an annoying vibrating sound.

You wondered if you should intervene and ask D/N to put away her cell phone, because when Leon was not at home, she never took it out when she ate with you. There was a feeling that she was deliberately provoking a scandal, testing Leon's patience for strength. He had it, of course, in excess abundance, but now it was becoming less and less.

"Try it." Leon managed a smile as he moved closer."What movie?"

You noticed the interested twinkle in your daughter's eye as she looked at her father. She must have clicked something on her phone as Leon turned his head to look at what she was showing him.

"Tall Oaks" Leon's face instantly changed. "The city was like that. Until it was blown up."

You look at your husband's pale face, literally feeling like the past is covering him with his head. Without a word, he moves away from his daughter, running his eyes over the table. But only you know that Leon needs a drink right now.

"Zombie movie" D/N happily held out and if she knew what her father was constantly fighting with, it would be like a mockery. "I wonder if the main character will be gutted?"

Leon's reaction was immediate. He knocked over the chair with a jerk, causing you and D/N to jump in fright. Unfortunately, due to his work at home, Leon sometimes had triggers due to certain things that made him sick. D/N did not understand what had just happened and looked at you in fear, looking for protection and safety.

"Since when the fuck are you letting her watch this shit?!" Leon snarled at you as he walked into the kitchen rattling cabinets in an attempt to find a bottle of whiskey. Your daughter ran up to you, clearly not understanding why you are acting so calmly.You told her to come up to the room and finish dinner a little later, but she literally clutched your arm, flinching when her father broke one of the glasses.

Innocent modern children's hobbies. Zombies, shooters, vampires, werewolves. Girls aren't all that pampered these days, and D/N was one of those who liked that kind of stuff. You didn't mind that she didn't watch anything that could harm her psyche, but for Leon, things like zombies were always a painful topic that no one ever brought up in the house. He probably still thought that his little girl likes beautiful elves and pegasi.

"She's not going anywhere tomorrow," he snapped rudely, talking to you in one gulp as he finished his glass of whiskey. “I fight this shit every day, not so she can watch people eat each other.”

"Leon..." your voice interrupted his angry tirade. you just had to explain to him that this is a children's film.

"Why the hell are you letting her watch this?!" Such simple things seemed to anger him in a matter of seconds. You thought it's good that your daughter's game console is in her room and not in the living room, because she has recently become addicted to such games.

Leon yelled at his daughter to go to her room and you had to tell her more gently so that she really left. However, D/N stood still, clutching your arm and staring intently into her father's face. He looked embittered and annoyed, but after a second his eyes widened in surprise and his heart dropped down after missing a couple of beats.

"It would be better if only my mom and I were left, and you never existed!"

You swallowed all the words when you heard this. She never said that and you would not think that she had the courage to do so. Leon still held the empty glass in his hand, just as discouraged and filled with bitterness. But what was said wasn't true, you knew it. D/N loved her father, it's just because of Leon's work that she chose a different tactic to draw attention to herself and this resulted in similar scandals.

Everything is quiet. Leon turned his back, lowering his head, and you repeated the order and again sent your daughter to her room. While she was running up the stairs, you approached your husband, taking his glass from his hands, placing it on the cabinet and hugging him from the back, laying your head on his shoulder. You could hear his single loud sob. Turning to him with your palms you wiped the tears from Leon's cheeks when he in the next moment hugged you buried in your neck, arms tightly clasped around your waist.

"Honey, she..." You sighed as you patted his head. "She doesn't really think so. I will talk to her"

Leon just shook his head.

"I was hoping that I could be a good father to her, but I screwed up and my own daughter hates me."

"NO! No no no. Leon, she doesn't hate you! Look, kids like zombies, monsters these days..." Leon pulled away from you as he returned to his glass pouring another shot of whiskey.

"Since when does anyone like this shit?! And why the hell are little girls allowed into horror movies?!"

He saw your absent-minded smile as you pulled out a colored flyer from the table and handed it to Leon. He took it in his hands and his eyebrow flew up in bewilderment.

"The movie is rated childish. There's more love snot than zombies," you smiled as Leon flipped the paper over to read the synopsis. "Doesn't matter." he growled as he took a long sip from his glass. "She's too small for that. I don't want her to watch people eat each other even if it's just one scene."

“No one eats or guts anyone there, Leon!” you gently stroked his back as he throws out a flyer "There zombies only flicker in the background and their extras play. Nobody forces you to watch a movie with girls. Just take them to the cinema then to a cafe and that's it!"

Leon shook his head but said nothing. Biting your lip, you patiently waited for an answer, arguing that if he forbade going to the cinema with a friend, then their relationship would continue to deteriorate.

"Better yet, go out with her yourself. Spend time with your daughter like you did when she was younger. She needs your attention."

"I know!" he shouted with a thud as he put the glass down on the table. "I'm trying... I'm trying to be a good father. I just want to protect her from this."

"Zombies won't come out of the TV if that's what you mean." Leon chuckled at your words. Soft strokes made his calm down a little and start to put her thoughts in order. "Go up to her and comfort her yourself. And tell her you're taking them to the movies tomorrow."

Leon swallowed but returned to you. Enclosing you in his arms inside him, he breathed in the scent of your hair as he gently rocked you from side to side. Grateful to have you, Leon looked up with a heavy sigh. He really shouldn't have reacted to the movie like that. After kissing you, you broke off your embrace to clear the leftover dinner and broken glass from the table, while your husband slowly made his way to the D/N room to try to make amends.

He really has a lot to fix.

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #reader #leon kennedy resident evil #leon scott kennedy x reader #papa leon s kennedy #papa leon #dad leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy x daughter

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duskandcobalt · 7 months

Text

Echoes in the Hallway

Elain didn’t know why it bothered her so much. Yes, she’d been prepared for a cozy night in with her nephew - just the two of them - but an additional presence in the house wasn’t usually something that would set her off like this.

Typically, she’d welcome having someone else around. She knew she wouldn’t be feeling like this if it was Cassian or Mor that had stayed back with her.

But Azriel…

….

18+ pls

Azriel finds himself playing chaperone again, this time for the girl he’s been avoiding for months…. What could possibly go wrong?

This is like 7.7k words of shameless angst and smut????? enjoy!!

…

Read on AO3

“Azriel.” Rhys’ voice broke through Azriel’s concentration. Their eyes met as the Shadowsinger looked up from the reports he’d been diligently reading for god knows how long, reclined on a couch in Rhys’ office after their morning debrief with Cassian.

Azriel raised his eyebrows at his brother, already wary of the conversation they were about to have based solely on the seriousness in which Rhys had addressed him.

Rhysand leaned against the corner of his desk. “We’re all going to the Court of Nightmares tomorrow…”

Azriel nodded, shuffling his papers together and setting them to the side so he could sit up straight.

“I know you were supposed to come but something’s come up and I’ll need you to stay here.” Rhys continued.

“Why?” Suspicion laced Azriel’s voice.

“The twins aren’t available and Elain…” Rhys paused, carefully watching his brother’s reaction.

Azriel tensed at the name, frustration immediately building under his skin. He hadn’t let himself even think about that name for almost nine months now.

Solstice felt like a fever dream - a night that had gone so wrong, so quickly that he deigned it easier to just try to forget any of it had even happened. Even if he’d quickly realised that was easier said than done.

“Elain is staying back to watch Nyx.” Rhys finished. He was still studying Azriel, waiting for a reaction that wasn’t coming. Anger flowed through Azriel but he pushed it down, wouldn’t let that icy exterior that he’d spent so long perfecting crack.

It had been Rhys after all that had put an end to everything before anything had even had a chance to begin.

“And you want me to stand guard?” Azriel inquired, quiet and steady, no sign of that underlying anger as he spoke.

“No.” Rhys sighed. “But we need Nesta to come with us and Cassian refuses to let her out of his sight after everything happened with the Blood Rite. Feyre’s already stressed about leaving Nyx for the night, with everything that’s happening. Elain and Nyx, leaving them for the first time… she insisted you be the one to stay back.”

“Why me? You told me…”

“I know what I said, Az.” Rhys cut him off. “And please don’t get any ideas. I stand by what I said.”

“So then why me? Why not someone else?”

“Because Feyre trusts you, Az.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “We both trust you.” ‘

“Do you?” Azriel scoffed. It was the first obvious display of emotion he’d let Rhysand see during this conversation.

They’d both be lying if they said things hadn’t been a little tense between them since that night where Rhysand had exercised his power, his ranking, in a way he hardly ever did. And for him to use that ranking to call Azriel off for a matter of the heart… Azriel had struggled to move past the decision even if he had done his best to obey.

“You are my spymaster, Azriel.” Rhys leaned back into his chair but his eyes stayed fixed on Azriel. “ You are my spymaster and my brother, of course I trust you.”

Azriel said nothing, only dipped his chin in acknowledgement of the clear sincerity in Rhysand’s tone.

“Don’t do anything to undermine my trust, Az. Just be here tomorrow night and keep an eye on things. There is to be nothing more. Is that understood?”

“I’ve stayed away, haven’t I?” Azriel stood, gathering his things before rolling his shoulders back and allowing his wings to flare behind him. A slight show of power to let his brother, his High Lord, know exactly how he felt about the situation.

“Is that understood, Azriel?” Rhys ignored the display, repeating his words with that same sense of command that he'd used on Solstice.

“Yes.” Azriel replied, words sharp as he swiftly exited the office and made his way out of the house.

…

“I just don’t understand why I need a chaperone when I am the chaperone.” Elain grumbled, avoiding even looking in Azriel’s direction.

They were in the kitchen, Nyx balanced on her hip as she bustled around getting a bottle ready for his first feed of the night. Azriel was standing across the kitchen from her, one scarred hand braced on the counter as he flipped through a thick stack of paper with the other. Also avoiding looking at her.

More reports. His distraction for the night.

The rest of the household had just left for the Hewn City mere minutes ago. Rhys and Feyre had chosen to only inform Elain that Azriel would be accompanying her and Nyx right before they winnowed away.

“It’s a safety precaution, with everything going on…” Azriel replied, his voice barely above a whisper. His hazel eyes stayed focused on his papers.

“Ridiculous. This house is protected within an inch of its life.” Elain threw back, her words cutting.. She saw him tense out of the corner of her eye, clearly unused to hearing this tone of voice from her.

Good.

Typically, she’d welcome having someone else around. She knew she wouldn’t be feeling like this if it was Cassian or Mor that had stayed back with her.

But Azriel…

She couldn’t even justify being upset at Rhys and Feyre for not telling her sooner. Why would they have thought to warn her? How could they possibly know that spending even a moment alone with the Shadowsinger wasn’t exactly high on her list of enjoyable activities these days?

Having him in her space after all these months apart had completely thrown her off, had her fumbling as she tried to put together a simple bottle. She cursed under her breath as she attempted to screw the top on for the third time. Nyx was entirely unhelpful as his little hands tugged at her hair, pulling curls loose from her braid and further distracting her from the task at hand.

“Need some help?” His low voice was closer than anticipated. She hadn’t noticed him come up behind her.

Alway so damn quiet - something that she’d found endearing once upon a time.

“I’m fine.” She bit back, silently willing her hands to stop shaking as she tried yet again to get the lid on the bottle.

“Elain.” Azriel sighed. Gods, she’d forgotten what her name sounded like on his lips. The effect it had on her body. “I know you don’t want me here. At least let me make myself useful.”

She set the lid down on the counter and turned to face him, making eye contact with him for the first time that night. For the first time since Solstice, really.

It’s hard to make eye contact with someone that seemed to do everything in their power to avoid her.

She could see the exhaustion in his hazel eyes but his face was as beautiful as always. The summer months had leant him a healthy glow, his already tan skin a couple shades deeper, a few freckles dotting the bridge of his nose. His dark hair was just a little longer than she remembered and a slight curl had developed along with the length.

How she had once ached to run her hands through his hair.

Anger flooded her veins again, a fresh wave, this time at herself for even allowing herself to think of him like she used to do.

He was infuriatingly expressionless as he watched her, patiently waiting for her to say something.

“I’ll take him to the great room. Bring the bottle and a cloth.” She relented, shifting Nyx in her arms as she quickly stepped around Azriel. His wings retracted to let her through.

…

Azriel took his time putting the lid on the bottle and grabbing a cloth in order to give Elain a little space.

He felt terrible about this - about having to be in this house, a looming presence that she very clearly didn’t have any desire to be around.

He didn’t know what else he had expected from tonight. He certainly didn’t think things would be like they used to be, back when she’d welcome him into the house with a shy smile, when they’d spend hours quietly talking to each other in the garden. He hadn’t even expected for them to exchange more than a few words.

He just hadn’t been prepared for the anger that radiated off of her.

It was so unlike her, so different from the girl he’d come to know. Of course, he knew that Elain wasn’t as quiet or demure as everyone seemed to think. She was kind, yes. Soft spoken compared to her sisters, yes. But she was also intelligent and sharp and funny in a way that often caught him off guard.

He’d seen her upset in the past, seen her frustrated, but he couldn’t remember ever seeing her like this. So angry that the same raging fire which had once been a constant presence in Nesta’s eyes now infiltrated Elain’s.

He took a deep breath in, picking up the bottle and taking a cloth from the cupboard, steeling himself to face Elain again.

Multiple centuries of life - all those terrifying people and places he’d dealt with in his line of work - and somehow he still felt wholly unprepared and nervous to interact with Elain Archeron.

Azriel found her in the great room, as promised, sitting in a large navy velvet armchair. Her feet were tucked under her, her skirts a never ending cloud of soft pink fabric around her. Nyx was cradled in Elain’s arms, the fire in her eyes nowhere to be seen, her features soft as she babbled back to the babe happily babbling to her. The last bit of light from the setting sun streamed in from the glass doors that led out to the river, illuminating them from behind and Azriel’s breath caught - she looked ethereal.

Elain saw him then and watched as Azriel approached her, flames immediately igniting again as she met his gaze. He held out the bottle and she reached for it, careful to avoid touching his hands in the process. She looked away finally, adjusting Nyx against her chest and watching as he latched on to the bottle.

Azriel found himself fighting back the emotions that came to the surface at the sight before him. Of Elain with a winged babe in her arms, humming softly as she fed him. It was a glimpse into what might’ve been. In another life. Another universe. What he might’ve had if the cauldron had only deemed him worthy.

He tried to push the thoughts down, attempted to let them frost over in the depths of his soul as he shook out the cloth in his hands, doubling it over once before tentatively stepping forward and leaning down to drape it neatly over her shoulder - matching what he’d seen Rhys do for Feyre time and time again. He didn’t miss the way Elain stiffened, the way her breath hitched until he was standing upright again. He hadn’t let his hands so much as graze her skin, as much as he might’ve wanted to.

“I’ll be in the kitchen.” He mumbled, one hand coming up to run through his hair, turning on his heel and heading out of the room before she even had a chance to reply.

He couldn’t take it.

There was a reason he’d stayed away all these months and he was quickly remembering just why he’d taken to hiding himself away at the House of Wind with Nesta and Cassian. It was too much - being near her, being surrounded by her scent. Not being able to talk to her, not being able to touch her. Seeing her with Nyx. This unspoken tension between them. It was all too much.

He thought that the months apart would’ve helped, that the pull he felt towards her would’ve lessened with time. He hadn’t realised how wrong he’d been - hadn’t realised just how much he still yearned for her.

Azriel took a seat at the dining table, hands dragging over his face once as he attempted to focus on his reports. It was utterly useless, all he could think about was the female down the hall from him.

He had no idea how he’d make it through the night when the pain of this longing was eating him alive.

…

Nyx’s wailing had been echoing through the house for a couple hours now, so loud that Elain was concerned that the windows would shatter regardless of the countless wards Rhys had placed on them.

The poor babe had refused to settle, only sleeping for a few hours before he awoke just after midnight - tears streaming down his sweet face even after Elain had rushed down the hall to him, picking him up and cradling him to her chest.

She had tried everything - changing him, feeding him, singing to him as she sat in a rocking chair. She was at her wits end, bouncing him anxiously in her arms as she paced the nursery, only the moonlight streaming in from the balcony window providing her with just enough light to watch Nyx as he all but screamed in her arms.

She’d done her best to ignore the shadows at the foot of his crib. They’d been there all night, silently laying on the floor where they typically monitored Nyx whenever Azriel was in the house. She glanced at them now and saw that they were gathered together, a cloud of darkness that seemed to keenly watch her, just waiting to be acknowledged. Elain had a feeling they’d been instructed to mind their business and let her handle things tonight but she could tell that they had a different opinion on the subject.

“Go get him, then.” She rolled her eyes, frustrated enough to give in to what she knew they were itching to do. If she wasn’t so overwhelmed she might’ve laughed at the speed at which they vanished, off to find their master.

Azriel appeared seconds later, stepping through his shadows, fully alert with Truthteller clutched in one hand. His hair was a mess, dark circles beginning to form under his eyes. He was still dressed in his leathers so he clearly hadn’t made it to bed yet.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, eyes scanning the nursery - the empty crib, the corners of the room, the balcony, before settling on her.

She saw him relax slightly once he realised that Nyx was indeed safe but then his eyes were taking her in - ever so slowly grazing over her - head to toe. She couldn’t help the heat that spread through her at his gaze. His eyes burned into her skin as he took in her unbound hair, the thin silk of the nightgown she wore, her feet bare on the plush rug. She was too exasperated to care that he was seeing her in this state of undress.

“I… I don’t know.” Elain rasped, her throat scratchy from being abruptly pulled out of her slumber. “He just won’t stop crying. I’ve tried everything, I don’t know what to do.”

“May I?” Azriel stepped towards her, holding out his arms.

Elain paused for a second, looking up at him before gently maneuvering Nyx into his uncle’s outstretched arms.

Azriel took him, those beautiful scarred hands cradling the still screaming babe and bringing him up to rest against his leather clad chest.

She had watched Nyx fill out over these past few months and had often felt that he was growing too quickly for her liking. But now, seeing Azriel with him… Elain couldn’t believe just how small Nyx looked in the arms of the Illyrian warrior. How tiny his body was in those large hands, how fragile he seemed against that broad chest.

Azriel’s hand rubbed smooth circles over Nyx’s back - in between the tiny wings that were beginning to strengthen.

Just five or ten minutes later, Nyx’s wails finally began to die down, his cries fading into small whimpers as he nuzzled further into Azriel’s chest - one tiny fist clutching at his leathers.

“Go to bed, Elain. I’ll stay with him until he sleeps.” Azriel glanced up from where he’d been walking back and forth in front of the window. Elain peered up at him from the rocking chair that she’d fallen into once Azriel had taken over - fighting the exhaustion that threatened to send her to sleep in favour of watching in quiet awe as Azriel managed to calm Nyx down.

“How did you…?” She started.

“I think it’s the wings.” He shrugged. “They can be quite uncomfortable when they’re growing. Mine were so itchy when they were healing after Hybern. I’d imagine it’s even worse for a babe.”

“I didn’t know.” Elain remarked. “I had no idea how to help him.”

“How could you know? It isn’t your fault.” Azriel said softly, fingers still gently rubbing over Nyx’s back. “The leathers probably help too, feels familiar to Rhys.”

“If I’d been here alone…” Tears were gathering in her eyes, the exhaustion of the past few hours hitting her.

“You’d have figured it out.” Azriel cut her off, crossing the room towards her. “Please sleep, Elain. You’ve been with him all evening. I’ve got this.”

He adjusted his grip on Nyx, holding him firm to his chest with one large hand so he could extend his other hand out towards her.

She sighed, her eyes focused on his outstretched hand before she gave in and took it - doing her best to ignore the spark that coursed through her at the feeling of his hand wrapping around hers and pulling her up until she was standing in front of him. He didn’t let go even as Elain went up on her toes to peer at Nyx. Her other hand pressed into Azriel’s chest for balance as she leaned in to place a kiss on her nephew’s cheek.

“Sleep well now, sweet boy.” She said softly before backing up and finally letting her hand drop from Azriel’s chest.

“Goodnight.” He gave her a small smile and let go of her hand, motioning towards the nursery door with his chin - beckoning her to rest.

…

Elain couldn’t sleep even though she was utterly exhausted. She’d been laying in bed, staring up at her ceiling for hours now, her mind racing with seemingly no end in sight. She couldn’t stop thinking.

The way Azriel had looked at her was burned into her memory - the scan of his eyes over her hair, her nightgown clad body, the way his gaze softened as his alert eyes met her exhausted ones.

She pictured him with Nyx, that icy exterior of his melting as the soft side he kept carefully hidden came to the surface once his nephew was safe in his arms.

She thought of the feeling of his hand around hers - his scars grazing against her skin as his fingers wrapped around her delicate wrist. She remembered the feeling of his leather clad chest under her fingers, how the heat from him melted into her even through the thick material… how that heat made her want more - made her want to press her fingers to his bare skin, to feel the muscled chest beneath those leathers.

She pictured his full lips, how’d they once been barely an inch from hers - one hand on her throat with his fingers grazing her jaw to tilt her face up towards his, his other hand buried in her hair. She pictured what it would be like to have those hands of his on her neck again, on other parts of her too.

That all-too-familiar ache swept over her, settling deep in her bones just as it had for months now - night after sleepless night. The anger that coursed through her body during the day always seemed to shift into an unquenchable longing once the sun gave way to the moon and she was alone in her bed.

She knew it was wrong. Knew she had no right to think of him like this, to want him, need him like this. Not when he’d told her it’d been a mistake - even if the way he’d looked at her tonight had said otherwise.

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply to will away the ache in her chest, the ache between her thighs. She tried her best to try to find sleep until her keen hearing picked up on the sound of a door opening and closing.

Elain barely even realised what she was doing but suddenly she was out of bed and rushing to open the door to her room. She scanned the dark hallways until she found him standing at the top of the stairs. Azriel paused at the sound of her door opening but his shadows continued down the stairs without him.

“He’s asleep.” He turned to face her, those eyes once again quickly scanning her up, down, then back up again. “Why aren’t you?”

She took a second to look at him. Studied the way those leathers clung to him, perfectly contoured to every lean line of his toned body. He was so tall, so statuesque as if one of the gods had carved him out of stone with their very hands. His shoulders were so broad that they blocked out what little fae light carried up the stairs from the lower level of the house.

Elain ignored his question, months of that ache and anger suddenly coming together faster than she could even comprehend, combining into an emotion she couldn’t label. The words spilled out of her before she could even think it through.

“You haven’t spoken to me in months.” She seethed. “You told me I was a mistake and then you left me standing at the bottom of those stairs.” Elain gestured behind him. “You all but disappeared until Nyx was born. Even then, you stopped coming to family dinners, you only ever show up at the house for meetings with Rhys and Cassian and then leave the second they’re done. You go out of your way to avoid me, you refuse to even look in my direction. What did I do wrong?”

Azriel still hadn’t moved from where he had paused at the top of the stairs, his eyes fixed on hers in shock as he took in what she was saying.

“You…” He shook his head. “You did nothing wrong, Elain.”

“Then why?” Her voice broke as she took one small step down the hallway. “Why have you avoided me like this? You almost kissed me, and then you said I was a mistake…”

“I never said you were a mistake.” He took a step towards her. “You were not the mistake, Elain. I was the one who made a mistake by thinking I had any right to touch you.”

“Because you were with her? With Gwyn?” Elain’s hated how timid she sounded voicing the fear that she’d kept to herself all these months.

Azriel’s face fell.

“She was wearing my… I saw her wearing the necklace.” She corrected herself, leaving the rest unspoken. The crippling fear that Azriel had feelings for Nesta’s beautiful friend.

Elain had seen the necklace around Gwyn’s neck a few months ago when Nesta had invited her to the House of Wind to have lunch with some of the priestesses that she was training. She had done everything in her power to smile at the kind priestess, to try to make polite conversation and not break down in tears when she’d caught a glimpse of the stained glass rose sitting just under Gwyn’s collarbones.

She had willed herself not to think of how that necklace had ended up in Gwyn’s possession but had utterly failed. Had sat in silence, her mind racing as Nesta laughed with Gwyn. The priestesses' musical laughter like a soundtrack to the thoughts infiltrating her mind in that moment - had he looked at Gwyn like he’d looked at Elain that night? Had he put the necklace on her? Had his hands lingered on her throat? Had he kissed her like he’d almost kissed Elain? Did he visit her in the darkest hours of the night? Did she share his bed?

Jealousy swelled within her, the roaring in her ears so loud that she could barely even hear him when he spoke.

“Gwyn is a friend, Elain.” Azriel took another step forward, one hand coming up to land over his heart in earnest. “I help train her and we’re friends. There’s nothing more, I swear.”

“Then why?” She still didn’t understand, couldn’t work out how things had changed in a single second that night.

“I don’t know - I wasn’t thinking clearly after Solstice and I ran into her that same night and we spoke. Then I found the necklace with my gifts…I didn’t know what to do but I couldn’t keep it. So I went to the library and asked Clotho to give it to her, to any of the priestesses. I shouldn’t have done it, I know that now.” This was the fastest she’d ever heard him speak, his hands balling into fists at his sides as if he didn’t quite know what to do with them. “I don’t even think she knows it was from me.”

“No. I meant…” Elain shook her head. “If you weren’t seeing Gwyn then why was it a mistake? Why was it a mistake to almost kiss me?”

“You have a mate, Elain.” Azriel’s expression faltered. Even in this dark hallway, she could see the pain in his eyes.

Elain laughed. Just one single exhale of air at the reminder of her mate. Red hot rage once again seeped through her.

“That means nothing to me.” She shook her head. “I am so sick of everyone telling me that that means anything.”

“But it does.” Azriel replied. “The mating bond is… it’s rare and it’s a gift to be treasured. There’s nothing like it. To not acknowledge it, to not try at the very least, would be… it would be a mistake.”

“I don’t want to acknowledge it.” Elain’s throat felt like sandpaper, her frustration building with each second that passed.

“He’s a good male, Elain.” Azriel’s shoulders dropped in defeat as he broke eye contact with her, gazing at the floor before dragging his eyes up to meet her searing gaze once again. He looked defeated. “He’ll be good to you if you give him a chance.”

Elain took three steps forward, the distance between them becoming smaller although the was still so painfully far away.

“He may be a good male.” She paused, a shaky breath escaping her. She was unable to stop the tears that were falling from her eyes, didn’t have the strength to hold them back anymore. “He may be good, but he is not you.”

‘Elain…” Azriel tried to speak but she held up a hand, silencing him.

“He is not you, Azriel.” She sobbed.

…

Azriel’s knees threatened to buckle under the weight of her words. His ears buzzing as he desperately tried to focus on Elain, beautiful as ever in the moonlight despite the tears cascading down her cheeks. The tears that were there because of him.

Azriel.

She’d never said his name before. Not that he’d ever heard, anyway. Maybe she’d used it in conversations with the others but she had never once, in the last few years, ever used his name when speaking to him.

He is not you. He is not you, Azriel.

Those words, the way she said his name, ricocheted in his mind.

He took two long strides towards her, the distance between them minimal now - if he simply reached forwards, he’d be able to touch her.

“Azriel.” She repeated his name, her eyes searching his own. He still hadn’t said anything. “Did you hear me?”

He nodded, opening his mouth to say something but there were no words. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Could only stare into the depths of those brown doe eyes, glazed with tears, and listened as she continued to speak.

“Lucien… he tries with me because he feels like he has to. He tries because of the bond. He’d have no interest in me if there wasn’t this thing between us.” She was fighting to speak, her words interrupted by deep, heaving sobs.

Azriel fought every instinct that was roaring through him to reach out to her, to hold her against his chest and wipe away her tears.

“No one has stopped to think about what I want. They think that just because there is this bond, I must give myself over to him. That he is who I must be with. It’s not right. It doesn’t feel right. The bond is there. I can feel it and it is like a knife in my side. There is a pull to him, yes… but I’ve always felt a pull towards you, too.”

Azriel couldn’t believe what he was hearing, could barely keep up with everything she was saying as she bared her soul to him. Not even his shadows were there to guard him, to allow him to shroud himself in the safety of darkness. He was left to face her all on his own as she confirmed what he’d long suspected. That she felt that same pull, felt that energy that seemed to radiate between them since they’d first met.

“I felt drawn to you long before I was forced into that cauldron. You were there for me from the very beginning. You were the only one - the only one - to listen to me, to sit with me, to see me. They all thought I was losing my mind. I thought I was losing my mind. You were the only one to know. The only one to understand me.”

Azriel could tell she had thought this through - over and over again. Every word, though pained, was spoken with clear intent. He could tell that this wasn’t just hysterics in the heat of the moment. Elain meant every word she said and it rendered him absolutely speechless.

“My life was taken from me.” She went on, her voice quieter now as she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I lost my fiancé, I lost my humanity, I lost my father. So many choices were stolen from me the second I was changed. Do I not deserve to have a say in what I do now? Do I not deserve to have a say in who I love? Do I not deserve to have a say in my own happiness?”

“It’s complicated, Elain.” Azriel finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “You deserve a choice but that choice comes with endless costs…there is already so much tension between the courts.”

“I don’t care!” She took another step closer until there was no space between them at all. Her hands reached for his and though he should’ve taken a step back, should’ve pulled away, he let her take them, let her intertwine her perfect fingers in his.

“You came for me once.” Elain’s voice was soft as she looked up at him, her eyebrows knitting together as she stared into the depth of this soul - forced him to recall when he’d risked his life to rescue her. “You fought for me then, will you not fight for me again?”

Tears were still streaming down her face but her sobs had subsided, her voice stronger as she challenged him.

“You know I would, but it’s just… it’s complicated.” He reiterated.

“Do you not want this?” Her face fell, her hands dropping from his as she went to take a step back. The confidence that she had exhibited just a second ago, faltering.

Azriel moved without thinking, one hand landing on her hip to keep her with him.

She gasped as his fingers pressed against her, calluses snagging on the smooth silk of her white gown, the feel of his skin through the thin material warmed her from the inside out.

His other hand landed on her neck, just as it had months ago - his thumb tracing a gentle path along the soft line of her jaw.

“Of course, of course, I want this.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe she’d even had to ask. His voice was so low he wasn’t sure she’d be able to hear him despite her face being mere inches from his. “I will always want this.”

Her eyes searched his, her shoulders dropping as all the tension she’d been holding in her body flooded out of her, causing her to slump against him. Azriel fingers flexed, his grip on her hip tightening, keeping her steady.

“I want you.” Elain whispered, tilting her face to look at him properly. “It will always be you.”

She was on her tiptoes then, her hands sliding up his torso until they were on his chest for the second time that night - her nails pressed into his leathers until her lips were just barely against his.

“Please, Azriel.” She all but whimpered.

Her plea cracked something in his chest and he could no longer hold back. All the work he’d done to stay away all these months, all these years, all of it was undone in a single second at the sound of his name on her lips. At the feel of her body against his.

Every wall he’d worked so diligently to build, came crumbling down faster than he could even comprehend.

Azriel closed the distance between them, his hand still on her throat as his lips brushed hers for the first time.

…

There was no going back from this.

The second his lips pressed against hers, tentative and sweet, Elain knew in her heart, in her very soul that nothing, no one, would ever compare to this. To him.

Every thought, every worry, every doubt she’d ever had slipped from her mind as Azriel finally kissed her. His lips were soft as they moved against hers, gentle and careful. He was committing this moment to memory just as she was - both of them desperate to remember every second of this, every possible detail. His tongue slid against her lips and she opened for him without a second thought, allowing him to deepen the kiss as she met him stroke for stroke.

Elain couldn’t get close enough to him, her hands frantically coming up from his chest to tangle in his hair, fingers tugging him down in a silent request for more, more, more.

His groan as she pressed her body tight against his reverberated through her and she couldn’t help the desperate moan that escaped her in response. Every ounce of blood, every nerve in her body seemed to be screaming for him - for his attention.

“Touch me.” Elain begged. His face was buried against her neck now, his lips and teeth and tongue grazing the sensitive skin causing her to arch further into him even though there was barely any space between them to begin with. “Please, Azriel.”

He relented, his hand slipped from her throat, one finger slowly skimmed along the delicate neckline of her nightgown before traveling lower. After what felt like a million years, his fingers grazed her peaked nipple, circling once, twice, before his large palm covered her breast and squeezed gently. His other hand released her hip to slip behind her, gripping the generous curve of her ass and pressing her firmly against him - allowing her to feel exactly how hard he was for her.

Her head tipped back, exposing more of her neck to him as her mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of him in between her thighs. Elain rolled her hips against his as if it was second nature, seeking out that delicious pressure against her core again and again all while cursing the few despicable layers of fabric that separated her from truly feeling every inch of him.

His lips were on hers once more, all his previous gentleness nowhere to be found, replaced instead with pure heated passion as he claimed her with bruising kisses. She was dizzy - all she could feel was him, all she could taste was him, all she could smell was him - the combined scent of both of their arousal was heavy in the air, permeating every square inch of the hallway.

Azriel’s hands slipped under her ass as he continued to kiss her, bunching up the silk of her gown until he could get his hands on the back of her bare thighs. He let his thumbs drift over her soft skin once before lifting her up easily. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms draped around his broad shoulders. He carried her with him, walking backwards until he could set her on a small console table in the middle of the hallway.

That familiar energy between them sizzled, only amplifying with each pass of his lips over her lips, her neck, her collarbones. She could’ve sworn there was a glowing aura around them as he lowered his face to her breasts, tongue laving at her nipples over her slip. The sensation of the damp fabric sliding against her skin was enough to have her seeing stars.

“Azriel.” She pleaded again, unsure what she was even asking for.

“Tell me what you want, Elain.” His mouth was still on her chest, hands raking her nightgown even further up her thighs as he raised his eyes to watch her. “Look at me and tell me what you want.”

Cool air hit the heat of her core at the exact same time she met his eyes.

The sound that she let out at that moment was almost embarrassing, her face and chest flushing. She felt him smile against the curve of her breast as he watched her. His eyes were darker than night, darker than she’d ever seen them. His tousled hair fell over his brows, casting shadows that only added to the darkness. Despite their darkness, there was a certain softness, a reverence in his gaze that she knew was reserved just for her.

She still hadn’t answered him. How could she possibly form words when his lips were on her breast? When his fingers were pressing into the flesh of her thighs? She couldn’t think straight, not when the soft ridges of his scars were sliding over her sensitive skin, going higher and higher with each pass as her legs widened for him on their own accord.

His eyes bore into hers as he straightened, raising up until his face was inches from her face. Azriel watched her carefully as he dragged a knuckle up her bare center - an absolute tease of a touch, so light that she almost wondered if she’d imagined it.

“Is this what you want, Elain?” His breath fanned over her as he spoke, their lips almost touching.

He pressed his forehead to hers. “Tell me.”

“Yes.” The word left her mouth in a gasp at the sheer command in his voice, at the brush of that same knuckle over the nerves at the apex of her thighs. She clutched at his neck, nails surely marking his skin as she kissed him.

Azriel kissed her as if he’d never get the chance to kiss her again, a searing kiss that caused a whole new wave of arousal to crest through her. But even his hot mouth pressing over hers couldn’t distract her from the feeling of two of his fingers slowly sliding through her, parting her, before his middle finger dipped into her just once.

“Look how wet you are for me.” He murmured in awe, pulling away just enough so he could bring his hand up between them. Azriel studied his fingers, the way the moonlight caught the wetness gathered there and made it glisten.

Her eyes went wide as she watched him take that finger into his mouth, his lips wrapping around it. She blushed when his eyes fluttered, savouring the taste of her.

“Do you have any idea how good you taste, Elain?” He returned his finger to her core, adding another, and then sank them into her once more in one slow thrust.

She couldn’t say anything, didn’t have the opportunity to when his fingers curled inside her, searching her upper walls until he found what he was seeking.

Those nimble fingers stroked a place that she hadn’t even known existed within her and Elain’s moan echoed in the hallway, her chest arching up into him - the friction of his leathers against her nipples only adding to the feeling of ecstasy that coursed through her.

Her hands roamed, grasping frantically at his chest, at his back. Azriel continued to steadily move his fingers within her. She needed to feel more of him. Needed the warmth of his skin.

“How do I…?” She whined, frustrated that she couldn’t find a single button or zip on his leathers. He’d have to do it. “Take this off.”

“No time. They’ll be back soon.” Azriel took her lower lip in between his teeth, tugging once before letting it go. “Just let me do this for you.”

She started to argue but Azriel kissed her again, increasing the pressure of his fingers as he stroked her over and over again.

“Another time.” He whispered, moving his lips to her neck and biting down lightly at the same time his thumb circled her clit.

“Fuck.” Elain cursed, immediately blushing as Azriel laughed against her throat - both of them surprised by her choice of words. She swallowed her embarrassment, choosing to focus on the desire burning low in her stomach instead. “Do that again.”

Azriel obeyed her order, running his thumb in smooth circles over her as he pumped his fingers into her, maintaining that same rhythm and ensuring that the tips of his fingers bumped against that spot inside of her with each pass.

Just a minute later, before she even knew what was happening, Elain’s vision blurred, her eyes squeezing shut as every nerve in her body came alive. She clutched at his hair, grabbing fistfuls of the silky strands as she clenched hard around his fingers. Her mouth fell open in a silent scream as she came for him.

Seconds, minutes, hours passed before she regained her sense of self. Azriel’s fingers had slipped out of her but he’d pressed himself against her instead, alleviating the emptiness that she felt without his fingers filling her. Azriel’s arms were wrapped around her, holding her tight to his chest, one hand in her hair as she attempted to catch her breath.

“That’s it, Elain.” He whispered into her hair, hands drawing soothing circles low on her back. “You did so good for me.”

“That was… I’ve never…” Elain breathed against his neck.

“You’ve… never?” Azriel stilled, his hand paused its circles but he continued to hold her against him.

“I mean, I’ve had…” Elain said quickly, trailing off. Her words were muffled as she spoke into his skin, “But no one’s ever done that for me. I’ve never…”

“Finished?” Azriel completed her sentence.

She nodded, face still tucked in the space between his neck and shoulder. Despite what they’d just done, she felt shy admitting this to him.

She pulled back slowly when he didn’t say anything further. The sweat from her body caused her slip to stick to her.

Elain swallowed her nerves, looking into his eyes - searching them for any sign of regret.

She found none. Only saw simmering lust and adoration.

“You deserve to feel like that every time, Elain.” A small satisfied smile tugged at his lips. Some primal part of him secretly fulfilled at the knowledge that he was the first person to make her come. He tucked a strand behind her pointed ear. “You should really go back to bed now.”

Elain’s eyebrows furrowed together. She wasn’t ready for this to end, wanted to stay here, safe in his arms, in this blissful bubble, forever. But besides that, she could still feel him - impossibly hard - where he was pressed firmly against her.

She kept her eyes on his as she reached down in between them, fingers itching to feel him but Azriel’s hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her before she had the chance to touch him.

“They’ll be home soon.” He shook his head, bringing her hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to each of her finger tips. “We have to save something for later.”

His words warmed something deep within her.

Later.

The promise of more.

“You won’t disappear again?” She allowed herself to voice her insecurity. The worry that things would go back to how they were before.

“No.” He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll seek you out. We’ll find a way. There’s more I want to do for you. With you.”

“Okay.” She nodded, leaning forward to kiss him again.

“This has to be just between us for now.” Azriel’s face was as serious as his voice. His large hands moved to cradle her face, fingers tracing softly along her cheekbones. “I’ll figure out how to make this work but for now… just between us.”

“Just between us.” She promised, repeating his words back to him.

She’d take whatever she could get. For now, this would have to be enough.

To have him in secret was better than not having him at all.

Azriel kissed her one last time before he backed out from between her legs, fixing her night gown to cover her before helping her down from where he’d perched her on the narrow table. His hands stayed on her waist, brushing over her curves until he was sure she was steady on her feet. “Goodnight, Elain.”

“Goodnight, Azriel.” She gave him a soft smile before walking away from him and back to her room.

The Shadowsinger watched until Elain’s door shut behind her and then he sighed, smoothing a hand over his unruly hair as he tried to figure out how the hell he was going to get the scent of them out of this hallway within the next hour.

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