#please also search tws
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oh my god monica o my darling is a classic. holy fucking shit the story, the plot the everything this is some andhadhun type shit. the shots are stunning the lighting is on point no complaints
#monica o my darling#classic i tell you its a classic#and it has radhika apte#actually no complaints#please watch it#please also search tws#jay speaks#desi culture#desiblr
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what happened? are you okay? even vague details can help us give u tips and information on how to help
i got strict parents and not supposed to have discord, tumblr, etc. the choice i made could potentially reveal my accounts to my parents and on top of that if they find out my tumblr they will know i’m a therian (my sister hates them and i think my parents would laugh at me). i do not feel suicidal but i’m really scared and i think i gotta get out of here
also my family has been arguing a shit ton recently i’m really scared
#i’m in missouri if that helps#tw running away#tw verbal abuse#if anyone has any tips#please lmk#ALSO !! my dad is really good at working with computers#so i couldn’t just wipe my search history#yeah i think im screwed
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I am so *clenches fist* normal about this film
#pride and prejudice#Pride and Prejudice 2005#might have to go watch this again so I can cry and scream and throw up#also#has this been done yet???#please let me know lmao I feel like someone must have jumped on this meme format before with p&p but I'm not on Tumblr enough to know#and I cant find anything when searching#mine#tw blood#blood tw
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violent thing - a playlist about falling in lust despite your better judgment and falling in love despite all common sense
push up to my body, sink your teeth into my flesh // say you're gonna pick me up, never gonna put me down// made out on the floor, you can blame it on the jack // i feel the blood go rushing miles from my head, so i hope you can forgive the way i'm acting // fucked me over, now you're all i'm thinking of // outside doesn't matter to us, we'll go somewhere quiet and far away // closer than your clothes were, now they're on the floor // i'm losing track cause baby we don't stop, is it your turn or my turn to be on top? // there's always been a disconnect, running from my heart to my head // i'll close every door, every door, if it means i can keep on holding you now // my friends were right, i've been trying to say it out loud, now the secret's out and i will never shut my mouth about it // in my civilization you're the king and the queen, i'm prayin' at your altar if you know what i mean // pay my penance any way i can, gotta let me love you right // even though it hurts, i just wanna be a criminal with you, a criminal with you, we're criminals
#YES this is the third time i'm publishing this to try and get it to show up in the tags and if it doesn't work i'm going to start screaming#kinnporsche#kinn theerapanyakul#porsche kittisawasd#kinnporsche the series#kpts#fanmix#guns tw#ANYWAYS; fun fact the making of this was literally just me browsing through my spotify library in search of H*rny#a few tender and petty songs snuck in too but. it's mostly h*rny#also the tonal shifts in this are Absolutely insane but. you know. so is the show so. staying true to character <3#also also yes this is titled after an esc song#y'all are lucky i didn't actually put natalia gordienko on here because it was a CLOSE thing#(title is from 'violent thing' by ben dolic)#and on that note please ask me about the b-sides to this because curating this was BRUTAL
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I want to see all the carnival AU bios again, but finding Zooble's is too hard, even when using the search. I hope there's a more organized way to view them.
(Trying to come up with nicknames that said characters would give my characters.)
CARNIVAL AU MASTERPOST + BOUNDARIES
Augh... I never know how to organize stuff! But here is a mini master post of the TADC Info Cards (edited):
The Main Cast (Minus Zooble :C)
Zooble ( Plus Zooble!!! :3)
Shiny Cards ✨
Lesser AI
THE GLOINKS!!!
Level layout
OFFICIAL COMIC:
The Entire Comic has also been dubbed by @volticglitch !! If you're not a reader, You can watch their dubs instead!! Here is the dub
Your best friend!
Jesterly duties
The hallway
Crying
First clue
Special event!
Foul language - a silly
CONCEPT ART:
Characters Relationship Chart ( Bonus, OC relationship Chart!)
The Tent
The Funhouse
Cutscene
Pomni expressions
Character design
Meet Pomni
ALT character skins (Bonus, Maid skins because of course I did)
Pomni expressions AGAIN!!! (and a bonus)
The Jester's Circus tent (and a bonus)
References
Shape language ramble
LOREEE:
Neck pieces
Neck pieces (prt 2)
Neck pieces (prt 3)
Silly Frilly
Toxic Positivity Duo
Quick Ragatha Doodle
The Rabbit
Non-sentient Pomni
Pity Laugh
First act of violence
First and only visit
DOODLE DUMPS:
First look
Meet Jax
Meet Ragatha
Meet Kinger
Meet Able
Zooble's room
Theatre shinanigans
Thanks for listening
Jax Doodles
Ragatha doodles (Feat. Kaufmo)
Caine doodles
Queenie?
Colored doodles
Eye popping
Jax Ko-fi request!
SILLIES:
Final boss Pomni Theory
Ofcourse you would
Shoulder Pads
test
omg showtime teeheeh ehehehe
CUTIES!!!
MORE SHOWTIME (HAVE I REALLY NOT ADDED THIS IN BEFORE??)
Carnival AU meets Original
its ok she's not drowning
The Amazing Digital... Circus???
A Christmas Carol Play!
Carnival Freakshow AU Merge!! (Freakshow AU by @hootbon)
BUZZBUZZ!! Fan character by @awful-little-goose
Whore Pomni Inside joke - more slutshaming
Pomni where yo pants at
shitpost doodles
SCANDAL!!
SCANDAL!! (alt)
Genderbend time!!
Stupid fucking doodles i made at like 11 pm
Stupid fucking doodles i made at like 11 pm (I dont know why I keep making these ToT)
stupid shinanigans involving Pomni's tent (Pomni's tent for context)
POMNI LET GO OF HIM!!!!!!!!
BUBBLE DAMN
Please hear her out guys
Kinger with no robe!!!
Bunnydoll real?!?!!?(Kofi request by amazing people :3)
Genderbend Jax!
Dollar store Carnival AU
Gangle simping over Able slay - Gangle PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER
Carnival GAINE!! - bro's so strong and cool and awesome
Flirty non-sentient pomni Inside joke (TW For suggestive themes): NON-CANON
Start
Context
Flirty non-sentient pomni (shitpost)
Pomni..........
Memory storage restart
the silly!!
no you're not.
oh god
someone paid me 10 bucks
SOMEONE PAID ME MORE MONEY
╔══ ❀•°❀BOUNDERIES/FAQ❀°•❀ ══╗
"Can I make OCs In Carnival?"
- Yess!! Multiple people already have and they make me so happy! do whatever, as long as you're happy and having fun!!
" Can I make NSFW?"
- Yas and slay, just be sure to warn and spoiler it, etc. etc. be responsible when posting NSFW!
" Can I make Fanfics?"
- Yes and please show me!! that would be lovely!!
" Can I dub/voice your stuff?"
- Yes but, I have only one rule... show me pleaaasseeee pls pls pls 🥺🙏
" Can I ship the characters/self ships/ OC x Canon?"
- Aughh.. this is gonna suck to explain cuz its a lot to ask..
You're allowed to ship any ship! My only boundary is that it doesn't include either Pomni or Caine being with others who are not eachother!
For example:
Ragatha x Jax ✅
Pomni x Jax❌
Kinger x Queenie✅
Kinger x Caine❌
As long as the ship does not include Pomni or Caine individually, I'm all aboard!! I respect Jax x Pomni shippers, as well as Kinger x caine shippers, I just don't like them myself and don't want to accidentally stumble upon them in the tag! I do apologize if that's a lot, it just makes me uncomfy! Bounderies can be very tight! :')
#The amazing digital circus#the amazing digital carnival#carnival au#pomni#caine#zooble#gangle#kinger#Ragatha#Jax#tadc#tadc fanart#the amazing digital circus fanart#queenie#kaufmo#able
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Dirty Dozen (ft. +2)
GN! MC x Pervert! OM Characters
(Cause y'all seemed to love the first one omg. Also TW: I made everyone wayy more sleazy and nasty than before so read at your own risk. MInors DNI)
Pervert! Mammon who likes to ask you for something specifically when your hands are full. "MC, lend me a few Grimm could ya?" He asks when you're in the middle of cooking.
"My hands are covered in cake batter, just take some from my back pocket."
"Are you sure it's there? Let me check both pockets." He isn't so much searching for coins as much as he's feeling and practically groping your ass. Seriously you start to wonder how it's taking him 20 minutes to find something that's right there.
Pervert! Solomon who keeps his room colder than usual when you come over for magic lessons.
"Is it too cold for you MC? I apologise, I kept it this way because some of the potions have bad reactions to heat but if you'd like-"
"I'm absolutely fine, Solomon. You worry about me too much." You smile at him reassuringly, not noticing how his eyes are so eagerly trained at your nipples perking up through your thin t-shirt.
Boner Bonus points if you allow him to hug you for some warmth. His fingers will definitely brush against your chest more than once.
Pervert! Beel who seems to make a mess whenever he's trying to help you in the kitchen. "I'm so sorry, MC. I didn't mean to spill it on your hands!"
"It's okay Beel, it's just some cream and syrup. I can just wash it off right away."
"But it's such a waste. Please allow me." He starts to thoroughly lick your fingers and you shake your head and let him knowing his fixations on food.
But he can't help it - you taste so good. He secretly wonders what you might taste like down there, drooling at the thought.
Pervert! Levi who has taken to sitting on pillows Japanese style while gaming and offers you the same. Sure enough you don't even suspect an ulterior motive.
"Did you get inspired by some human world anime again? Careful though - your legs and butt will start to cramp after a while."
"MC you're too gracious! Caring so much for an otaku like me!"
After you leave, he promptly takes the pillow you were sitting on and puts it in his bathtub. He's going to sleep on it ofc. Your scent on it helps him jerk off better.
Pervert! Belphie who now asks you to rub his belly till he falls asleep. "What's so funny?" He asks as you giggle at his request.
"Since when do you need help falling asleep?"
"I care about the quality of my sleep. And I sleep better this way."
Fortunately you believe him and don't suspect that it's because it's the closest he can get you to fondling his dick. He has such a difficult time holding in his moans and hard ons, every time your hands go even a bit lower than usual.
Pervert! Barbatos who got into sewing clothes as a hobby and specifically likes making them for you now. But you never understand why he needs to take same measurements over and over again.
"Oh? This is a different kind of design, MC. So the measurements will vary from before."
"Always making new things aren't you? You never fail to suprise Barbatos." You smile at him admiring.
The tightening of the tape around your chest and crotch are subtle. He can hardly keep it together when you praise him after all. But he has to if he wants to skim his hands over your body like this again.
Pervert! Diavolo who takes you on such long drives that you always doze off in the front seat, waking up apologetic for missing so much of the journey.
"Hahaha, it's okay, MC. We've been on this same road lots of times. I assure you, you didn't miss anything. And I like that you feel safe to sleep in my presence."
"But still, I'm so sorry, it feels disrespectful..." You apologize, not even knowing how hard he is in his pants right now.
Afterall, he can keep squeezing your beautiful thighs, maybe let his hands wander between them and imagine himself fucking you in the back seat as much as he wants, when you're asleep.
Pervert! Simeon who will have noone except you as his muse for art classes. And the themes just keep getting more erotic each time.
"Are you sure you're okay with this, MC? You don't have to do it if you're not comfortable-"
"Nonsense, Simeon. I feel super comfortable if it's you. You're a true artist after all." You say as you lay on his bed wrapped up only in bedsheets, exposing your entire back and legs.
If only you knew, this angel has thoughts dirtier than most demons. How he's practically fucking you with his eyes. How he's definitely going to jerk off into those bedsheets, moaning your name.
Pervert! Satan who loves teaching you things - standing right behind you, guiding your hands to make latte-art, or trying a new style of painting.
"That's it, nice and slow. Look how much you've improved, MC." He beams at the cute kitty in the coffee cup.
"All thanks to you, Satan. I can't wait to learn more from you." You smile at him earnestly.
He almost feels guilty for tricking you this way, but the way your hands feel in his, and your ass feels against his groin is so addicting. One of these days, he wishes could teach you to be on all fours and take his length in your pretty little mouth.
Pervert! Asmo who loves keeping your eyes on him and noone else. From elaborate performances to petty staring contests, he cannot have enough of your gaze.
"Oh you're turning red in the face, Asmo. Did I manage to flutter the heart of the Avatar of Lust?" You lean forward smiling.
"You're my only weakness after all, MC. It's your fault for making me this way." He almost moans.
You laugh and mock apologize at his antics but you don't know he's been grinding like an animal on his seat, and creamed his pants under your innocent gaze. Your undivided attention just turns him on so much.
Pervert! Lucifer who makes his desires too obvious sometimes. He'll regret it in the morning and take you to dinner to apologize but not until he's already done something dirty.
"Lucifer, it's 2 am. You need to throw away that coffee and sleep." You're practically dragging him to bed.
"Fine. I'll go sleep if you'll stay in my room tonight." He says knowing you'll comply. You care too much for your own good. He's not even going to let you sleep on the couch, no you have to stay wrapped up in his arms.
You might wake upto him groaning your name in his sleep and you might mistake it for a nightmare - not knowing how he's balls deep inside you in his dreams.
Pervert! Thirteen who likes how excited you get over her newest inventions and keeps making more things to call you over.
"And this little baby and can throw pie at people's faces without ever missing. Guaranteed headshot." She smiles proud.
"This would be so useful in a cafeteria food fight and then get banned right after its glory. But I so wanna use it!" You whine.
She loves how much you appreciate her inventions. She is secretly working on a 'pleasure' device scented like her to give you - she hopes you'll like it just as much.
Pervert! Mephisto who is actually taken aback by your duality. You're such a mischievous little imp usually but turn so well-mannered in front of Diavolo's esteemed guests.
"So even you can be prim and proper sometimes? If only you could maintain this on the daily." He huffs.
You laugh and mock-bow in front of him. "Of course, anything for you my dearest lord. Would you like to dance with this proper human while you can?"
He blushes at the sudden offer. Why you little- how dare you tempt him like this. You can't complain about him gripping you somewhere improper or too tight. You deserve this for your attitude.
Pervert! Raphael who is still navigating new feelings of lust he's never felt before he met you. Why his heart skips every time you fall asleep on his shoulder or why he felt a sudden warmth at the pit of his stomach feeling you breath so softly into his neck.
"Thank you for helping me tidy the classroom, MC. I didn't even know where the cleaning supplies were."
"That's alright. It's more fun with two people anyway and wait Raphael there's a bucket over the-" The fresh bucket of water already spilled splashing all over both of you.
You immediately fetched a towel to help him dry up but he couldn't stop staring at you instead. With the uniform sticking to your body like and the water glistening on your exposed skin - why was he so enthralled? Why does he feel a strange pulsing between his legs as you hover over him?
#obey me#obey me smut#obey me solomon#obey me satan#obey me asmo#obey me lucifer#obey me beel#obey me mammon#obey me simeon#obey me belphie#obey me barbatos#obey me diavolo#obey me leviathan#obey me thirteen#obey me Raphael#obey me mephisto
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if u think i’m pretty || chris sturniolo
SMUT. 18+. Minors DNI. tw: hate fucking. lots of it. bickering while fucking? idk you get the gist. finally got around to writing about chris. can you believe i scrapped like 5 fics? 🥴 yeah me either! also, sequel with matt if yall want it ;)
part two w/matt is here :)
“Christopher fucking Sturniolo!”
Your words were laced with venom, the staircase rumbling beneath you as you stomped upstairs. Faintly you could hear Matt call out for you, your mind too filled with rage to hear him properly.
Pornographic moans flooded your eardrums as you reached Chris’s room, your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head. Your closed fist rattled his door, the dramatic moans coming to a screeching halt.
“Open the fucking door dickwad!” You screamed. Impatiently you tapped your foot, deciding he was taking too long. You grabbed the door handle, (surprised to find it unlocked), and swung the door open.
It was almost comical watching Chris and a girl you didn’t know scramble to get themselves dressed.
“What the fuck are you doing in here? Get the fuck out! Haven’t you ever heard of privacy?” Chris spat, shoving his gray sweatpants on. For a brief moment you felt bad for the girl, her waterline filling with tears. She was just one of many you had seen this week. You grabbed a shirt you presumed to be hers, handing it to her. You took a deep breath, containing your anger as you looked at her.
“Please get dressed and for the love of God, find someone better to fuck,” You sighed. The blonde was gone in a flash, practically sprinting out of Chris’s room. You crossed your arms, shooting lasers out of your eyes as you glared at the brunette across from you. Oh, only if looks could kill.
“I’m not believing my phone magically teleported into the dishwasher of all places,” You snarled. Your phone had been missing for six hours straight, your iphones location still saying it was at the triplets house. You had dragged Matt and Nick all around their house, searching from the ceiling to the floor. When you had finally accepted defeat, you had opened the dishwasher to grab a bowl to make a snack.
And to your displeasure, your phone was sopping wet, sitting in plain sight on the rack.
“You have zero proof I did that, literally zero,” Chris argued. Your eyes briefly flickered to his exposed chest, the amount of skin throwing you off. You shook your head, showing Chris your ruined phone. “Really? Because I can’t recall the last time you did dishes but you magically did them last night,” You snapped. Chris shrugged nonchalantly, a cocky smirk creeping across his lips.
“What can I say? I figured i’d help out the household,”
That’s it.
You chucked your phone at him, the brunette dodging the attack by seconds. It was ruined away, even the rice method was unable to save your phone. It smacked against the wall, the sound making Chris jump. “Maybe your phone wouldn’t be ruined if you weren’t having very LOUD phone sex with your boyfriend!” Chris yelled. You threw your hands up in the air, completely dumbfounded. “What are you talking about? Why would I ever-” You began arguing, before it clicked.
You weren’t having phone sex with anyone, that was for sure. But you stayed over at the Sturniolo household frequently, to the point where you were there more often than you were home. As much as Chris drove you insane, you couldn’t deny how attractive he was. The concept of the attraction being forbidden, soured by years and years of bickering, did something inside of you.
You could feel heat rushing to your cheeks, even though you didn’t want it to. Chris snickered at your loss of words, shooting you a genuine smile. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” He teased. In a swift motion you dashed across the room, your palm connecting with his cheek. Your tension with Chris had never gone beyond yelling. He had never crawled under your skin so much before, embarrassment seeping over you as you thought about the whole house hearing what he said.
A long pause silenced the room, the sound of the slap echoing through out your ears. Chris took a moment to process what you had just done, before his sharp gaze meant yours. His hand flew to your throat, gripping the sides as he threw you against the nearest wall. The air was knocked out of your lungs, your body in fight or flight mode. He easily towered over you, his sharp blue eyes filled with rage.
“You’re such a fucking whore,” Chris grumbled. He squeezed the sides of your neck harder, a whimper escaping your lips. His grip loosened, his attention fully dedicated to the sound you had made. The brunette tilted his head to the side curiously, as if he hadn’t believed what he just heard. “Did you just whimper?” He questioned. You shook your head no, Chris’s knee spreading your legs apart. Testing the waters, he brought his face closer to yours.
“You know, your little stunt prevented me from finishing earlier. Perhaps you’d like to help me out,” Chris purred, the glint of lust in your eyes telling him everything he needed to know. You rolled your eyes, your heart beginning to race as his body pressed against yours. “If you’re going to kiss me get on with it before I change my mind,” You said plainly. Chris’s grip on your throat tightened, your airway becoming restricted.
“You’ve always been a mouthy one,” He muttered, roughly bringing his lips to yours.
Chris hated how good you tasted, how good you smelled. He hated how your skin always looked so soft, your lips so plump. He despised how confident you were, always charging into everything in your life head first. What Chris actually liked, was that you challenged him. He knew that his infatuation with you wasn’t actually feelings, just raw and untamed lust. But fuck, with your lips against his, it made him want to change his mind.
The two of you clawed off each other’s clothes, discarding the clothing to the floor. Chris’s tongue swiped across your lower lip, before sliding inside. His kisses were rough and sloppy, your body addicted to the electricity he made run down your spine. You pushed him harshly against the bed, his back hitting the soft mattress underneath him.
You straddled him quickly, attempting to take control of the situation. Ever so slowly you grinded your wet cunt against his exposed shaft, a groan escaping his lips. Chris cockily put his hands behind his head, admiring you. “Go ahead, get yourself off just by grinding on me. You can do it pretty girl,” Chris instructed. You felt heat dash across your cheeks at the sound of his praise, your hips moving seemingly on their own.
Curses left your lips as you threw your head back. “Making me get myself off since you can’t do it? Figures,” You managed to say, your movements becoming more desperate. Chris leaned forward on his elbows, watching your cunt slide up and down his shift. “I’d watch your words ma, i’ll overstimulate you until you’re nothing but a cock craving whore,” Chris warned. His warning felt real, the threat in it seeking genuinely true. Even if you didn’t want to believe it.
Chris bit his bottom lip as you shamelessly grinded against him, every little movement providing pleasure to your clit. “You really think i’d fuck as many girls as I do if I couldn’t make them cum? I thought you were supposed to be smart,” Chris said coldly, mockingly tilting his head to the side. Your gaze landed back on the man beneath you, ignoring his cock in between your folds. “Yeah? I thought I was supposed to be overstimulated by now. What happened to that?” You challenged.
He was quick to change positions, your back landing against the mattress before you could think. He roughly spread your thighs apart, shoving two fingers into your cunt. A gasp of surprise was ripped from your throat, his spare hand resuming its place as your personal collar. Chris’s name spilled off of your lips as his fingers curled inside of you, his name becoming a sinful mantra. “What happened? Not so cocky now are we?” Chris taunted, watching you fall apart on his fingers.
The sight of you was enough to make his cock throb, his body craving attention. Chris remained focused, determined to corrupt you. “Open your fucking mouth slut,” Chris ordered. You so without a second thought, flattening your tongue across your bottom lip. He gripped your face harshly, leaning over and spitting into your mouth. “Swallow it,” He growled, watching you intently. You did as you were told, swallowing his saliva. You felt humiliated as it slid down your throat, the feeling euphoric.
“Thats a good girl, now why don’t you cum on my fingers for me? Hmm?” Chris asked. His words of praise made the rope inside of you snap, your orgasm washing over you without warning. Your vision went white, your thighs trembling as Chris removed his fingers from your aching cunt. You watched as he sucked them clean, maintaining eye contact with you as he did so.
Still coming down from your high, you put every last bit of energy into rolling your eyes. “Are you going to fuck me or just stare?” You asked. Chris’s cocky smile fell, replaced with a frown. “Nothings ever good enough for you, is it?” He replied, crawling on top of you. He brushed the tip of his cock up and down your folds teasingly, enjoying hearing you audibly whine for him. “Why’d you destroy my phone?” You asked, your coherent thoughts interrupted by him shoving himself inside of you.
You both moaned in unison, the unholy sounds vibrating off of the walls. “Why’d you decide to have phone sex in my house?” Chris gritted out, sliding himself further into you. He had more girth than you expected, your walls struggling to accommodate his size. “I asked you first dipshit,” You spat, fighting back a groan as he slid in further. Chris could feel your walls spasming around his cock, the sensation enough to make him cum right then and there. But he knew you’d never let him live it down.
“Yeah? Well I asked you second,” Chris replied, bottoming out inside of you. The tip of his shaft brushed against your g spot, the slightest movement of his hips making you whimper. “If you must know I wasn’t having phone sex, dumbass,” You said honestly. Chris pulled his hips back at a teasing rate, entertaining the argument. “Yeah? So what were you doing?” He questioned, doubting what you were saying. His hips bucked back into yours, hitting your g spot purposefully slow. He was drawing his thrust out, enjoying the sight of you squirming beneath him.
“I-I was thinking of you, alright? Now are you going to fuck me or what?” You rambled, embarrassed by your confession. Chris paused for a moment, soaking in your words. He leaned forward, his breath hot against your ear. “Is that so? Well, I destroyed your phone because I got jealous. You belong under me, just like this, taking my cock,” Chris purred, ignoring the embarrassment of his own confession. He pulled back slightly, allowing the two of you to make eye contact.
Out of breath and desperate, both of you panted as you stared into each other’s eyes. “Well, in that case, you better get on with it,” You said weakly. The same cocky smile that you hated plastered across his lips, his hips bucking into yours quickly. Your nails dug into his back as his hips continued to slam into yours, his cock buried inside of your cunt. Chris couldn’t hold back his own groans, your walls milking his cock dry.
With glazed eyes he met your gaze, relishing in the sound of your groans, chanting his name. “Open your mouth for me,” He ordered, his cock abusing your cervix. Chris enjoyed that you didn’t hesitate, obeying him without a second thought. He put two fingers into your mouth, shoving them as far back as he could. “Now fucking suck them slut,” He growled. With each degrading word you squeezed him harder, your body snitching on your hidden desire.
“You look so pretty like this, when you aren’t yapping that mouth of yours,” He huffed. A painful whine came from his lips, your nails purposefully digging deeper into his back. You pathetically bobbed your head up and down on his fingers, concealing your smirk as you heard him in audible pain. Chris slithered his spare hand down to your cunt, drawing fast and sloppy circles around your clit.
“Go on, cum for me. Cum on my cock like the good girl you are for me,” Chris panted. The extra sensation was enough to make you throw your head back, Chris’s fingers still lodged in your mouth. Your warning of your orgasm was muffled, your thighs shaking violently under him. The sight was going to be burned into Chris’s memory forever, the feeling of your cunt spasming around him giving him an undeniable ego boost. He fucked you through your orgasm, becoming preoccupied with chasing his own.
His fingers roughly grabbed your waist, fucking you rougher. “Shit, i’m gonna cum,” He admitted. Chris watched, mesmerized as his cock slid in and out of your cunt. “Where do you want it?” He asked, his hips beginning to stutter. You grabbed him by his throat, dragging him towards you. You put your mouth next to his ear, smirking as you told him, “Inside of me.”
You filthy fuck. For the first time your name fell from Chris’s lips as he came, his warm seed flooding your cunt. In unison you both tried to catch your breath, Chris carefully slipping out of you. The room was silent, besides desperate breathing, a knock came from Chris’s door.
“Yeah?”
“Your uh, doordash is here dude,” Matt said awkwardly. You could hear him place a bag in front of his bedroom door. “Thanks,” Chris replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
“Hey Chris?”
“Yeah?”
“Next time maybe fuck a little quieter, Nicks pretty pissed.”
You exchanged glances with Chris, watching as he shoved on a shirt.
“You heard him, be quiet next time,”
“Next time? There won’t be a next time. Mr.I lasted thirty seconds.”
The sound of you two bickering made Matt roll his eyes, causing him to walk away. He wondered if you both would ever get married, or if you both would hate fuck forever. He shrugged at the idea, heading back downstairs. All Matt knew for sure, was that your moans made him cum the hardest he ever had. And that, was enough for him.
#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo x y/n#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut
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All My Dreaming
Summary: You came to the Night Court as a fugitive and quickly became a valued member of the Inner Circle. Azriel’s love for you has burned brightly in his chest for nearly two centuries now, but when an unknown force threatens to take you from him, he must fight to keep you at his side.
Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader
A/N: I don’t use Y/N here just out of personal preference, but the IC do call reader “Little One” because she’s younger than them by like a century or so. Also, slight timeline deviation? I kind of just made the ACOTAR timeline work for me a little bit but the important bits are there mostly. If it’s not totally accurate, please suspend your disbelief and go with it. I also took some serious liberties with Prythian geography and Azriel’s shadows in this. I had to force myself to stop because I could’ve written five more scenes, so let me know if you all want a part two. I got nasty Azriel thots to spare, baby!
WC: 16.1k ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
TW: 18+, Minors DNI, violence, death, descriptive gore, lots of time jumps, torture, smut, p in v, fingering, porn with plot, mating, slow burn, angst, friends to lovers, declarations of love, loving sexy times, miscommunications abound, Azriel being a big ole softie, Azriel being a big ole bitch to bad men, Azriel really going tf thru it emotionally, and Azriel being mouthy as fuck. Just girly things.
Part 2
Azriel hadn’t seen you in four days. Nearly a week had passed since you’d left. Rhys mentioned a mission but no additional details, Cassian avoided the topic, knowing how frustrated his brother got when you were gone, and Feyre was decidedly unhelpful the few times he’d brought you up. His shadows searched aimlessly, they’d found nothing as far south as Winter Court, daring not venture into Autumn, and knowing damn well you’d never step foot into Spring. You were slowly driving him mad; the bond in his chest aching at the loss. Even if you hadn’t recognized the golden thread linking the two of you, he felt it.
Gods, did he feel it. He’d often lay in his bed at night, eyes tracing the intricate foil patterns of the ceiling tiles. When sleep evaded him, as it frequently did, he’d grasp the thread tightly in his minds eye and tug it experimentally, begging you to see, to notice it was him that loved you with a ferocity that rivaled the sun. Try as he might, the responding tug never answered, his call into the void not returning an echo.
The second it snapped for him, Azriel had resolved himself as unworthy, not of someone like you. You were powerful, breathtakingly beautiful, intimidatingly intelligent, and you regularly brought men to their knees, both in political circles and on the battlefield. Rhys relied on you as much he did Cassian and Az, you were a core member of his court, a valuable asset, and the love of Azriel’s life. Azriel avoided the latter subject entirely, choosing instead to silently stoke the ember in chest with unyielding affection; his own private paramour.
When you’d joined the Night Court, you’d been on the run from both Winter and Autumn Courts. Your father was a high fae noble in Winter that had attempted to arrange a marriage to the second youngest Vanserra of Autumn. The family’s brutal reputation was legend and you were terrified. You were young then, barely a century old, and upon your introductory visit to the Autumn Court, Beron sought to make an impression by presenting a welcome gift. That gift? The public torture and execution of a servant he’d deemed traitorous.
His gleaming eyes remained on yours with each cast of the fire whip he’d conjured using his cruel magic. He’d cracked it again and again until blood splattered and the servant was left flayed beyond recognition, flesh searing, and finger tips twitching from the remaining neurons firing in his brain. Only after his death did Beron announce his crimes. He’d stolen a parcel of food from the royal pantry to feed his wife and small child. Your stomach churned at the thought of the now widow and fatherless child waiting at home for the male that would never return.
It had all been a test to see if you were worthy of the most violent and petulant of the broody sons, and you’d passed, holding Beron’s stare and keeping your back straight as you faced his wrath head on. You’d cried yourself dry in your room that night though, sobs wracking your form until your chest ached, grief for the male that was lost. Fear settled into your heart, terror of the family you were set to marry into.
You’d ran at first light, leaving with nothing but the clothes on your back. Your Winter white blonde hair streaking across the red and orange forest as you bolted. Beron sent his dogs after you. You still had the scars lining your calves from where they’d gotten too close, brought you down into the dirt, jaws snapping and tearing at the muscly sinew there. But you’d fought. You’d kicked and clawed like a feral child of the woods, screaming with a sense of self preservation you’d never known you possessed.
Rhysand had found you half dead, starving and a little savage in the mountainous border between the Day and Night Courts. He’d made a bargain with you then; he’d save you, if you worked for him. Word had already spread of the ousted Winter female and spurned Autumn princeling and Rhysand was impressed you’d lasted in the wilds undetected for so long. The small star flecked tattoo of the Velarian night sky that lived on your wrist since was the only evidence of his deal.
You’d long moved past such a bargain. Rhys had offered to lift it half a dozen times in your first hundred years within his court, but you hadn’t minded. A reminder, you’d insisted, a mark of your loyalty to the family that didn’t lead you the wolves with such glee.
You’d settled into a routine in Velaris, training with the Illyrian brothers and charming Amren with your intelligence and wit. But you’d become the closest with Mor, who felt a kinship in your shared traumas. She’d soothed you in those first years, fiercely protecting her friend when Eris Vanserra had shown up in Hewn City as an emissary to inquire on your new position in the Night Court. It was that same night that Azriel realized how fucked he truly was.
Eris smirked at you and your back straightened, face growing cold. He spoke, “My brother was wondering where you’d scampered off to.” A laugh followed, “You couldn’t stomach our court, but found yourself bound to the Court of Nightmares? My my, what a wicked turn of events.”
Rhysand had spoken then, wearing his High Lord mask well, “Watch yourself, Eris. You know not what our Little One can do.” Eris laughed, the sound laced with the dark spark of a threat. “Little One? Fugitive and Night Court whore, I must tell your father. I’m sure he’ll be proud to hear of his daughter’s fate.” Azriel’s wings pricked, then fluttered, he would’ve killed Eris right then for you. Your hand came to rest on Rhys’ arm as you stepped around the throne to level your accuser with a look that should’ve turned him to stone.
“I am no male’s whore and I belong to no court except Night. Report what you wish to my father, to your father, your brother. May you all rot.” You’d spat at his feet then, and the room heated twenty degrees, Eris’ barely kept rage simmering under the surface, fire blooming on the fringes of his figure.
He stepped forward and Cassian, Azriel, and Mor all shifted, prepared to take out the threat. Eris’ eyes tracked their figures, gauging the situation. He knew better. Any attack here would mean war on his court and his father have his hide for that. You stepped forward to meet him, knowing he could make no move without endangering his position. You kept your spine straight and narrowed your gaze at him with such contempt he would’ve been impressed at the show had you been anyone else.
“I will say this once Eris Vanserra,” you held up one long manicured finger, and Azriel traced the action with thinly veiled obsession. “Leave my court or I will be the one to kill you. I’ll rip your spine from your body and I’ll do it with the same glee in which your father,” you’d spat that word, the hatred you held for Beron burning your throat as the words exited your mouth, “killed that male for feeding his family.” You took a step closer, summoning a dagger in your left hand, and rolling it your palm. “Trust that we have no tolerance for your family or your bullshit in these lands.”
Eris had good enough sense to step back then, peering around your form to where Rhysand sat, legs spread, slouched in the throne, smirking at your display of dominance. Azriel to his right looked on in pure male satisfaction, you were a powerful little thing and he was rather fond of you in that moment. Eris spoke up, “Should I note that the Night Court threatens other Courts for sport?” Cassian and Azriel rolled their eyes in synchronous fashion, but it was Mor that spoke with the dark edge of a threat, “Only ones that deserve such brutality.” Her father, Kier, stood in the gathered crowd and sneered at the tone of her voice.
You’d done the unthinkable then, winnowing behind Eris, grasping the male by his red hair and dragging the dagger to his neck, digging in enough to cause the male’s heart to speed, a line of scarlet leaking from the press of your blade. You could feel the heat in his skin, the flame licked at your hand as you released him with a shove.
You brandished your dagger as if it was an extension of your hand, the tip of the silver blade glinting with red from the now healing cut at Eris’ throat. “Come for me again and I’ll kill you.” It was then that Azriel noted the slight tremble in the hand at your right side and he wished on some distant star that he could reach out to you, soothe you, tell you that he was proud and you defended yourself and your court beautifully.
As if his wish was granted, he felt his chest give way to a canyon of emotion, heart stuttering as the bond fluttered and snapped, thrumming with affection for the female standing at the center of the room. He had selfishly allowed himself to hope it would be you, in the dark of the night when he was alone and his shadows whispered to him of your whereabouts. Since he’d met you, he fostered that small romantic notion of soulmates. His most private desire.
Eris whirled on you with a roar, grabbing your throat with hands of fire. Azriel felt the breath leave him, and he took two then three steps forward before he could think, hazel eyes alight with a fierceness you’d not yet witnessed. Your eyes found his and you held up your hand to halt his movements, the one that had trembled seconds earlier, now steady as a stone. You’d looked at Eris then, raising your chin defiantly, a slow smile overtaking your face as you once again spit at the Autumn male before winnowing back to your place in front of the dais. Rhysand raised to his feet then, taking steps down to meet you. His hand grazed your arm this time and his mind reached out, “Very good, Little One, very good.”
“As the lady said, Eris, come to my court in search of her again, and she’ll be the one to kill you.” Rhys circled Eris, tracking like prey. “But not before I sanction it for laying your hands on a member of my house.” Rhysand spoke with such quiet cunning, it was no wonder he excelled as High Lord. Eris snarled then before winnowing out of the Hewn City and Azriel quickly set his shadows to following him, ensuring he was actually gone.
You returned to Mor’s side and the shameless pride that set on your face the rest of the night made Azriel want to kiss you. Gods, he was fucked..
You’d flirted with him constantly in the first century you’d been in Velaris. You had laid it on thick too, dragging a long nail up his arm, your mouth sliding into a smirk after one too many drinks at Rita’s. Azriel had always feigned friendly indifference though, a mask he slipped on that was equal parts protection as it was self soothing. His only crack coming in the form of a slight tremble in his pinky as he tried to gather himself to avoid closing the space between you, touching, grasping, feeling.
He’d worn black leather gloves around you in your first few decades with them. His hands always held the most insecurity for him, the silver scars and warped skin a brutal reminder of his childhood. It was after training one day, as you all packed your small bags and threw towels into bins that you’d asked about it.
“I don’t mean to pry, and feel free to tell me to fuck off, but why the gloves?” You asked quietly leaning against a wall less than ten feet from him. He’d stiffened and breathed tightly, “it helps with the work.” That had always been his excuse, wearing gloves when killing helped reduce the touch memories associated with the act, and it was partially true. But he wasn’t on a mission right now, and you called him on that, “are you spying right now?” Your lips quirked, “should I tell Rhys?” Your words were mirthful, but your eyes held nothing but empathy for the Shadowsinger, sometimes Azriel wondered if that was your Cauldron blessed gift.
You’d reached down then, rolling up the left leg of your training leathers. You’d resumed your full height and rotated your calf outward for his eyes to survey the damage there. Ragged silver keloid scars marked the skin from your ankle to the soft back of your knee— a knee he’d admittedly fantasized about many nights in a row now. He’d selfishly thought about trailing kisses up your leg, pausing to nip playfully at the soft skin at your knee as he made his way north, up your thigh. He breathed deeply banishing those thoughts as he took in the site of your marred skin. Judging by the heavily keratinized markings, the injury had no doubt been painful when incurred originally. Azriel’s fingers twitched again, wanting to touch your face, hold you as he kissed away your grief.
“From Beron’s dogs,” you breathed, rolling you shoulders, as if shaking the memory from your mind. “They wouldn’t heal when I was out there,” you clicked your tongue, “granted I was starving,” you sighed, “but that’s a story for another day.” You looked at him then, and he had to steady himself at the emotions pooling in your eyes.
He’d already planned on killing Beron if the opportunity presented for what had happened with Mor, but for you, he’d make it hurt. He’d drag it out and make it slow. He’d torture him for days, flaying skin from bone, taking fingers then limbs and when at last he begged for death, Azriel would set the dogs on him and laugh as they tore him apart. He felt a long repressed need for vengeance creep up his spine, and he hated to acknowledge what its presence meant in regards to you.
“It’s okay, you know,” you’d said, head lolling to the side as you watched him, eyes swimming with a gentle affection, “I’ll never judge you for something like that.” Azriel squeezed his eyes shut as he turned his head from you and breathed in tightly. How did always manage to be so fucking disarming and vulnerable? That must’ve been a gift too.
He pinched the middle finger of the right glove and pulled it from his hand, grasping his now exposed fingers into a fist, knuckles cracking. He extended that arm out, palm up as he let you view his deepest insecurity, the thing he hated most in his appearance.
You’d stepped forward, looking at his palm. Your hands went to reach but you’d paused, looking to his eyes as you silently asked permission to touch. He nodded stiffly, watching you with the same intensity of an animal being hunted, prey ready to bolt at any moment.
Your fingers touched his hand, and he felt the connection race up his arm and to his chest, settling in his heart. Your eyes studied, and you rotated his hand, fingers gently tracing from his wrist, to knuckle, to fingernail in reverence. You covered his hand with your own, moving your eyes to his hazel ones. “Are they dead?” You’d asked seriously, and he stuttered a shocked laugh. “Yes, Little One, they are,” he answered, a small smile playing at his mouth. The two of you far too similar it seemed. “Good,” you’d said simply before kissing his knuckles and pulling the glove back on for him. The action was quietly intimate, and Azriel should’ve kissed you then. Mother knows he considered it, eyes watching you with rapt attention as his heart sped up and breathing shallowed.
“If you two are done flirting, lunch is ready,” Cassian announced from the doorway, breaking the spell you were both under. You’d jumped and laughed freely at the large male smirking at the entrance. You grasped Azriel’s hand tightly in affection before releasing it to turn on your heel to exit the room, passing by Cass with an eye roll, thumping him square in the chest.
Cassian looked to his brother as he walked into the room and his face split into a shit eating grin. “Let’s go, loverboy,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Azriel glared, scoffing as he followed behind you, praying to whatever Gods were listening that he’d get you alone again soon.
In your second century with the Night Court, you’d lessened the blatant flirting and settled into loving, easy friendship. You regularly attended balls and galas in Hewn City, fitting into such pomp with practiced ease, but always with a dagger strapped to your thigh, ready to cut a male down in seconds. Those events were almost routine at this point: Azriel would save you a dance, and you’d move together in a slow ritual that you’d both perfected over the years, he’d bow as the violinist played their final note and resume his place on dais at Rhys’ right. His eyes would follow you the rest of the night, as you spoke in an airy manner to various high fae, glaring at any male whose hands ventured too close to his mate.
Nights when the Court held parties at the House of Wind were different though. You were far less rigid, finding it easy to exist without scrutiny. Those were the nights Azriel’s eyes rarely left your form as he watched obsessively from the corners of the room.
“You’re staring,” Rhys chimed from his place next to Azriel, eyes not leaving the crowd as he spoke to the Shadowsinger, mouth smirking. Azriel was staring. You’d worn cobalt blue tonight, a lovely color on your skin. His color on your skin. Mother above, the male possessiveness that crawled up his spine was unreal. Mate, mate, mate, his shadows had sang in his ear. He wanted to pluck the eyes from every male in the room for even glancing in your direction. He wanted so much more than that too. Your breathy sighs as he marked you, your moan as he made you come undone, his name crying from your lips as he ate his come from your cunt after. Azriel had a million and one scenarios running through his head. He yearned to make each one of them come to fruition too.
He hadn’t answered Rhysand, so the High Lord tried again, “you really should tell her, but please,” Rhys closed his eyes with a grimace, “quiet your thoughts first, for Cauldron’s sake.” That got Azriel’s attention, his back straightening and mental shield slamming down. His eyes squeezed shut, almost as if he was in pain. “I cannot burden her with that now,” he said, “not with war at our doorstep.” Indeed, the second war with Hybern creeped ever closer, disappearances of other high fae occurring daily. Whatever they were planning across the sea, it was going to bring Prythian to its knees.
Rhysand sighed then, feeling older than his 500 years. “Be that as it may, we should hold those we love tighter.” Rhysand looked to Feyre at that moment, his eyes meeting his mate’s, as he sent a strum of warm affection down the bond. She smiled and returned it cheerily. He turned back to Azriel, “if it all ends tomorrow, I know my love and she knows me. That’s all we can ask for in this immortal life.” Azriel looked back to you, and your eyes were already on him, tracing the shadows that wound around his chest. You met his eyes and winked, before turning back to Mor and laughing freely.
“I thank the Cauldron daily it was you that found her in those mountains, Rhys.” Azriel spoke quietly, admitting a small secret he’d not told anyone. Rhysand softened, and clapped his friend on the shoulder, “As I am, brother.” Azriel nodded, letting the conversation die between himself and the High Lord as he drained the drink in his hand and moved down the steps in your direction.
You’d been in conversation with Mor when he approached. She was telling you of the seamstress she’d been seeing, and how happy she was. Azriel cleared his throat from behind the two of you and you turned to meet him, taking in his appearance with wide eyes. “Ladies,” he started, bowing to you and Mor, who snorted at the silly formality. “And that note, I’ll be taking my leave. I’ve got a lady to see,” she said with a wink and a flourish of her red dress. You laughed and shook your head before turning back to the Shadowsinger. He’d caught you staring earlier and your heart had nearly jumped into your throat, before Mor mocked you lightly, diffusing the tension.
“Hi Az,” you greeted softly, before dropping your empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and thanking them. Azriel watched you closely, noting the revealed skin that shifted with each movement, committing every angle and freckle to memory.
“You want to get out of here?” He dared ask, jerking his head toward the private balcony on the House of Wind. You raised a brow, Azriel? Asking you to leave? Together? You heart was back in your throat and you thanked the Mother that you’d taken your time getting ready that evening. Nodding, you grasped his arm as he offered it to you like a proper courtier. He walked the two of you up a round of stairs and away from the eyes he’d threatened earlier in the night. Voices dulled the more space you put between yourselves and them and you couldn’t help but start to sweat a bit at the thought of being alone with Azriel.
You’d been friends for nearly two centuries, but you’d always felt a connection with the male. Your heart thrummed with a warm, golden affection when he got close. It made keeping a clear head during training hard. It made sitting next to him at dinner difficult. And when he’d looked at you like you hung the moon as you danced earlier in the night, it made you want to take him to bed and ride him until he moaned your name. You breathed deeply. ‘Focus,’ you chided yourself, ‘he is your friend, for Cauldron’s sake.’
He led you out onto to the balcony and stopped at the railing before looking up at the star flecked sky. “This is my favorite part of the House,” he said eyes scanning the sky before looking back to you as you watched him. A blush crept up his neck, before he cleared his throat again.
“I’ve always wondered what it was like to be able to fly, you know,” you said quietly, removing your hand from his arm, rolling up onto your toes, leaning against the stone railing, and looking out on Velaris before scanning your eyes up to the three stars that shone brightly overhead. “When I was a child, I met a Peregryn from the Dawn Court and thought she had the most beautiful wings I’d ever seen.” You chanced a glance his way, “I’d not met an Illyrian yet.” You reminded with a smirk, bumping his arm with fondness. Gods, he was in trouble.
“I asked her what it was like and she said it was the purest sense of freedom possible.” You glanced down at your feet, “I spent the next year wishing for wings.” He mulled on your words. He wanted to say something cheesy as Cassian would, like ‘I’ll be your wings’ but he couldn’t, so you continued on.
“When I was a little older, I witnessed a blue skinned lesser fae’s wings ripped from his body as punishment and it was the most gruesome thing I’d seen at that point.” You took a shuddering breath, “I cried for him that night. The lost freedom. How maddening it must’ve been.” You looked at him then and he watched you with furrowed brows. “How does it feel for you?” You asked softly, eyes tracing the shine of his wing. ‘Magnificent things,’ you thought. You remembered seeing his wings for the first time and thinking the Peregryn had finally moved to second place in your mind.
Azriel had to gather himself as he spoke, “It’s… everything.” He said quietly adjusting his body to extend a wing. “My ability to fly came in late,” he said, and your eyes widened, you hadn’t known that. “My childhood was… rough and I didn’t learn to fly until I was nearly grown.” He laughed, scuffing the toe of his boot, wings folding in behind him. “It was a lot of crash landings those first months.” You snorted, mental image of a younger Az, landing in a puddle of mud crossing your mind.
“I was never a proud Illyrian, not like the others,” he continued, “it was hard for me to reconcile my heritage and our traditions.” He looked to the cityscape then, “but the stronger I got, the more I understood why flight was so crucial to my people.” He looked to you, eyes shining, “it’s the closest we can get to the stars.”
You leaned over the railing again, staring wistfully at the night sky, the moon reflecting on your skin. “Will you take me someday? Flying, I mean.” Did you not know Azriel would give you the world? Of course he’d take you flying. He’d give you the moon, the stars, walk through fire and back, anything. He nodded, “you say the word, and I’ll fly you the the ocean and back.” The smile that broke across your face crippled him, his knees threatened to give way.
“Yours are my favorite,” you murmured softly, eyes glancing from his wings to his face. Azriel blushed in full, pink speckling his neck and cheeks as he laughed. “Don’t let Cass hear you say that, he’s got an ego,” he said, a smile remaining at his lips. You liked him like this the most. Loose, smiling, free. You reached up then, cupping his reddened cheek, thumb stroking. “I don’t care,” you said smiling, “it’s the truth.” Azriel swallowed roughly, staring at your eyes swimming with an emotion he knew, but was much too stubborn and scared to name.
Just as your hand went to retreat, he grasped it between his own. “You can touch them,” he offered, knowing damn well the implications, “if you want,” he added. Your eyes widened. Mor had mentioned once that Illyrian’s wings were ‘sensitive,’ was the word she’d used. It was a sign of great intimacy and trust to allow another to touch them. You felt the air shift between you two then, as you nodded.
He extended a wing toward you. This felt so much like the first time he’d shown you his hands all those years ago. Your hand crept forward and gentle fingers met the red gold membrane that stretched between two metacarpals. Your fingers traced the membrane in smooth circles, then traced up to the crest. Azriel felt his breath gutter out of his mouth in a loud, choppy exhale, and he felt himself harden at the sensation of your fingers against the most sensitive portion of his wings. You gasped and jerked away at the sudden noise, before apologizing. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten carried away.”
Azriel shook his head, “It’s not that, they’re sensitive.” There was that word again, only it made you think of how they’d been shredded before the King of Hybern, and you opened your mouth to apologize again, but he stopped you short. “I haven’t allowed another to touch them freely since my mother.” The admission floored you, your gut giving way with a breath.
You looked to his eyes then, the air between you had shifted again and you knew this was it. This was the moment you’d waited for, he was going to kiss you. Mother, it felt you’d waited a millennia, and he felt just the same. But that kiss never came. Instead, Azriel went stock still, his eyes now on the House behind you.
“Azriel?” You questioned. “It’s Rhys,” he said tightly, “he’s summoning me.” You understood then. He looked to you desperately, eyes a little wild and apologetic. “I’m sorry, I have to go to him.” You nodded, you both worked for the High Lord, you’d never get in the way of Azriel’s allegiance to his Court. “Of course,” you said quietly, taking a step back and swallowing down your disappointment.
Azriel took three steps towards the entrance then stopped. “I’ll take you,” he turned around, backing his way to the arched stone, but keeping his eyes on you for a moment longer. “When I get back, I’ll take you flying,” he offered. Another smile etched its way across your face and Azriel took a long moment to memorize it greedily. “It’s a date,” you said confidently. He beamed then, turning on a heel to pick up into a jog, Rhys no doubt shouting to hurry up.
That date hadn’t happened though. The second war with Hybern broke out days later and you both barely made it out alive.
When Feyre had come to Velaris after Amarantha’s defeat, you’d accepted her with easy friendship. You saw Rhysand, your longtime friend, overcome with love for his newly found mate, and you couldn’t help but love her as well. You’d shared your story with her and the two of you bonded deeply over her art. She’d offered to teach you to paint, and you began taking lessons in your off time. Rhys had been Cauldron blessed with her and you reminded him daily.
Later, when Feyre’s sisters joined their little unit, you’d been the first one to break Nesta’s tough exterior. The female saw parts of herself in you and you’d gotten her to crack a smile when you mocked Rhys’ High Lord voice at dinner one night. Elain had been a tougher sell, but you’d tried, along with Azriel, to bring the female out of her shell. The day she joined you in the library to read, you knew progress had been made, even if you two had only sat in silence a few feet apart, a small smile gracing her features.
You left her book recommendations with small notes and she began to do the same. Your friendship playing out in the margins of the library’s tomes. You won her over with silent conversation. Nesta noticed, of course, and she looked to you with gratitude as she saw her sister’s eyes brightened and skin began to return to its normal, healthy color. The night Azriel mentioned it as you walked down the hall toward the dining room for the family meal, you’d shrugged. “I met her where she needed me to,” you’d said quietly, glancing to your feet. Azriel smiled, a Cauldron blessed gift indeed.
Dinners at the House of Wind were by far Azriel’s favorite version of you. You’d laugh with abandon, smile splitting your face, showing every tooth as Mor cracked a joke and leaned against you for support, one too many drinks in her system. The first time he’d seen that smile, it blinded him, and he’d gone a little dazed, staring at you in wonderment. Rhys had interrupted his train of thought with an invasive insertion of “How quickly she reduced you to a puddle, brother.” Azriel had scowled at Rhys then, mental shields firming up, but not before he heard the distinct sound of his High Lord laughing at the Spymaster’s defensiveness.
Indeed Azriel was gone for you. When Cassian finally confronted him last year about the truth of his feelings, Azriel saw no point to avoid it any longer, not after his brothers had also found their mates. “Our souls are one in the same, she’s my mate,” he’d said pensively, as if he was letting his deepest secret breath in the light for the first time in centuries. Maybe he was. He’d made Cassian promise on his life not to tell anyone, and despite being the biggest gossip in the Inner Circle, he kept his promise. He was thrilled for his brother, knowing you were the perfect match.
Little did Azriel know, everyone else was already more than aware of his affections. Amren had figured it out a century prior when Azriel had tended your needs as you’d recovered from an injury sustained during a mission. He’d fretted around you like a mother hen, buying you flowers, sweets, and books while you were bedridden. The female had watched and hummed with a raised eyebrow as Azriel exited your room for the fifth time in one day, wringing his hands with worry despite Madja’s clean bill of health.
Feyre had figured it out the same year she’d returned from the Spring Court, just before the second war with Hybern. She’d seen the way his eyes had followed you in the war room Rhys had created to host strategy meetings. Saw him lean towards you when you spoke, saw his wings flutter when you finally cast your gaze to him, eager for your attention. More than anything, she’d seen his shadows, desperate little things, sneaking across the floor each night, sidling up your ankles and wrists, begging for your affection. You always laughed and nuzzled them as the wound their way to your hair and Azriel went a little soft at the sight.
When she told Mor, the blonde had laughed, “They’ve been circling each for two hundred years now, eventually one of them will cave.” Mor leveled a sardonic look at Feyre then, “and when they do, we’ll all have to relocate to the River House for a year lest we be subject to the frenzy.”
This mission should’ve been simple. Rhys had asked you to check out reports of rogue soldiers spotted making their way towards the border of the Night Court from the Day coastline. The intel he’d received had mentioned three to four maximum, all of them drunken ex-Hybern loyalists. It should’ve been a matter of locating them, spying for a day or two, then winnowing in to neutralize any threat. Gods, this was far from simple.
When you’d arrived in the region, the hairs on your neck rose, the air itself feeling off. As you tracked them, you’d noticed intentional attempts to throw you off course. A carelessly trashed map, crudely laid tracks in the opposite direction, Dawn Court wine bottles that had been emptied and tossed about. They knew you were there, and you quickly realized that a trap had been laid. You backed off them then, staying further than you’d have liked, but trying like hell to make them think you’d given up.
On your fourth night following them, you’d drifted away to an inn two towns over, desperately seeking a place to bathe and rest, even for a few hours. As you bathed, you felt watched in a way that discomfited you to your core, and your dagger stayed within arms reach the rest of the night. Suddenly, the role you’d played for the last two hundred years had left you entirely ill equipped for whatever was happening here.
You’d left out before dawn, refusing to lose an ounce of daylight, but as you hit the tree line, readying yourself to winnow out, you’d noticed it. Hanging from a tree, a hundred yards away was a piece of clothing, your clothing. Clothing that should’ve been in the pack at your back. Your breath shuttered out of you as you opened your mind to Rhys, asking for back up. You were in over your head and you knew when to admit it. There was no pride in getting yourself killed.
As you turned to move back to the inn where you could wait out contact from Rhys in a public location, you were met with a pair of shining blue eyes. You stepped back, keeping your grounding, readying for a fight. “You’ve been following us,” the stranger said calmly, beginning to trek in a slow circle around you. You opened your mind to Rhys again, “Help,” you called. Rhys answered this time, “Where are you?!” It was a frantic response, you never asked for help, Rhys knew this. “Just off the coast, beneath the mountain range, Day court border, 400 hundred paces from the inn” you spoke to Rhys in choppy thoughts, trying to establish a location before all hell broke loose.
“I have,” you finally answered the stranger, whose lips quirked at your voice. He stopped circling and resumed his stance in front of you, blocking passage to the inn. “Why?” He asked and you tried to keep your mind steady as you answered. “You’re trespassers in these lands” you stated simply, shrugging a shoulder up. He grinned then, “had your lot not gotten in the way of our King’s plans, these would be our lands. We were promised them. I was personally promised the Court of Nightmares.”
“Well,” you shrugged feigning indifference, “that’s not how the war played out, so I will have to ask you to leave,” you offered in your most bored political tone. The same tone you’d used with High Fae that ran off at the mouth in Hewn City. The stranger cocked his head the side then, eyes twinkling, “I don’t think I will.” At that moment, one by one, additional soldiers appeared from the forest line. One, then four, then ten, until near twenty stood around you, looking on with hatred.
Shit.
“We’d hoped for the Illyrians, but it seems your High Lord sent us a treat instead,” the stranger said with mirth. You steeled your spine, looking down your nose at the stranger, “They’re going to kill you, you know.” He’d laughed at your threat. “I think not,” he said as as arrow was released from your left, finding purchase in your shoulder. You folded over on yourself at the blow, and looked up baring your teeth, before drawing your dagger and rushing the stranger with a feral sound.
Five more arrows hit you before your blade could find its target. One into your hip, two in your back, a fourth piercing your in your upper thigh, until the last burrowed into the back of your knee, bringing you down in front of him — forcing you to bow to the stranger. The arrows were laced with faebane you realized as you’d begun to feel its effects in your blood. Your power waning quickly, thoughts becoming murky.
You released another shattered thought to Rhys then, “Tell him, please,” you begged raggedly. Rhysand came back with a rushed and tight, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” You shook your head, there wasn’t time. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” He responded but it muddled out, sounding like words shouted through a pool of water, then your brain fell quiet. The line severed.
The stranger lifted your head, hand wrapped around your throat, as he bent to meet your crouched form. “I’ll be sure to savor this,” he smiled and the hilt of his sword came in fierce contact with your forehead.
It was the early morning on your fifth day away when Rhys heard you. “Help,” it had come through so clearly that it startled Rhys awake and set his heart to racing. You’d only asked for help once, during the war when you were overrun and near death. You were in danger.
He’d sat up straight in bed, Feyre still sleeping silently at his side, hand resting on her pregnant stomach. “Where are you?!” He’d asked down the line, a little frantic, remembering the state he and Azriel had found you in last time. Gods, you’d been run through on a Hybern soldier’s sword, the damage was astronomical. Azriel had nearly killed everyone within a mile radius at the sight of you.
You recited your location in short bursts and Rhys focused on the bond of your bargain, using it to locate you with more precision. He reached out to Azriel then, “Get Cassian and meet me downstairs. Be ready to fly.” Azriel responded an affirmative and Rhys rushed around his room, grabbing his dagger lined belt, and using his magic to dress in his leathers quickly. He winnowed to the base of the stairs and was glad to find Cassian and Azriel waiting.
“Tell him, please” you begged into Rhys’ mind then, words growing ragged. Rhys’ eyes slammed shut with a wince and he attempted to reassure you, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” Rhys opened his eyes and looked to Azriel, who was watching him with anticipation. You responded again, words growing murkier, a little warbled. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” Rhysand felt sick. “We will find you and you will tell him yourself,” he spoke but the bond was dead, silent, foreboding. Rhys thought he might vomit.
He looked to Azriel again, “It’s her. She’s in trouble. We have to go.” Azriel’s face darkened with a thunderous ferocity. Mother help the males who’d harmed you. “Where?” He asked, voice deep with the threat of murderous violence. “The wilds on the border, off the coast of Day. I’ll winnow us as close as possible.” Azriel nodded his acquiesce and lifted a trembling hand to his hair, running scarred fingers through the strands. Cassian spoke then, “we will get her back,” he’d said softly as Rhysand put his hands to the two of them, preparing for the jump. “And we will kill every last one of them,” Cassian added darkly as blue-black shadows encased them and they disappeared.
You awoke with a start, gasping like you’d been underwater. Your shoulders ached from your position. You pulled on your hands only to realize you were shackled to a tree somewhere deep in the forest, the same forest you’d been on the outskirts of earlier. You looked up to the sky, trying to find the sun to gauge how much time had passed. The sun had long moved past midday and was sinking towards the evening horizon. Your throat tightened. Where was Rhysand?
“Nice of you to join us,” a voice spoke. It was the stranger again, he emerged from the camp set two hundred paces to your left, hidden by shrubs and underbrush. You got a good look at him this time. He was tall, leanly muscular in a way that reminded you of Lucien Vanserra. His hair was a dishwater blonde and lacked any sheen, falling in choppy dry waves around his shoulders. His face was gaunt, eyes sunken, bruised with a lack of rest, and his cheekbones were sharp, giving his face an angle that made him look harsh and unforgiving. Though he carried himself with confidence, you noticed a slight, barely there limp in his right leg, an old wound perhaps, one that never healed correctly. You noted that for later, if you ever got out of these shackles.
You leveled a glare at him that you hoped looked more fearsome than you felt. Mother, your bones ached and your wounds throbbed. “I left the arrows in, but broke off the shaft. Didn’t want to have you healing too quickly.” He spoke with nonchalance, while polishing a dagger, your dagger, you realized as your eyes focused. You pulled at the shackles above your head, and the stranger chuckled at your attempt.
“What do you want?” Your voice croaked, mouth dry from disuse. The stranger laughed, pointing the blade at you, “I want my fucking court and you’re the key to getting it.” You shook your head then, “I am nothing.” The words sounded foreign on your tongue, a lie on some level, you knew this, but you would be damned before you gave up your family. The stranger clicked his tongue at your response, shaking his head.
“Surely you don’t believe that? The High Lord doesn’t trust easily, you’ve been seen with his entourage. The Shadowsinger’s whore.” He squatted a few feet from you, eyes tracing from your tied hands down to your face, pausing at your breasts, before trekking down your stomach, thighs, and calves. He was sizing up how much fight you had left.
Your brain had short circuited though, the Shadowsinger’s whore. Mother above, you’d never even kissed. How long had this male watched you and your family? How had none of you seen it? A bitter laugh wretched from your lungs, “sorry to disappoint, but the Shadowsinger isn’t mine.” No matter how desperately I’ve wished it so, you added silently.
The stranger grinned then, “if you are truly nothing, then I’ll make this a little sweeter.” He took steps towards you, raising the dagger to rest at your chin, the blade pressing to the underside painfully. “You’re far too pretty to be nothing.” He ran the blade along the column of your throat, resting it against your sternum, between your breasts. You pushed yourself further into the tree, back protesting as the arrows burrowed deeper with the movement. You didn’t like the new angle this interaction had taken and your fight or flight instincts were screaming.
You attempted to reach out to Rhysand, but the bond was dead silent. Your breathing hitched at the realization that you were truly alone in this. The stranger chuckled, dragging the blade down your chest, slicing the leathers, letting the fabric fall open and reveal your undergarments to his greedy view. Your legs moved to kick, but you realized quickly they too were tied. The blade came to rest at your bare stomach, and the stranger dug it in below the navel, causing blood to pool there. You winced, but made no sound.
“Ah, I was hoping you’d be louder than that,” the stranger smirked, “I’ll have to try harder.” He backed up then and pulled a whip from his back pocket, unfurling it with a crack. Your eyes widened and you brain went silent, fear overtaking your senses. “There it is,” his smile gleamed with violent delight, “there’s the reaction I was hoping for.” He reared an arm back before cracking the whip in your direction. The leather made contact with your torso, a stinging slice appearing along your rib cage. You jerked, but bit your tongue.
He cracked it again and again until you were bloody, slices in your leathers, festering wounds along your breasts, ribs, and stomach. You’d counted to 25 lashes before your brain gave out and your vision blurred from the pain. You looked up to the sky wearily. The sun was gone and the stars were slowly appearing. You smiled at them, remembering Azriel’s words from that night all those years ago.
You hoped he’d forgive you for not telling him. You hoped he’d understand your fear in revealing that secret, that the bond had snapped for you during the war. When that Hybern soldier’s sword pierced your armor, running through your body to the hilt, and he’d let out a fearsome bellow from across the field at the sight. You felt it then, the golden strumming taking the form of a fated thread linking you two. You been near death when he and Rhys had found you and the only thing you could do was smile. Such an ironic thing it was to die in the arms of your mate.
Your head lolled to the side as exhaustion threatened to overtake you. “Azriel,” your thoughts ventured, calling down the bond he didn’t even know existed, “I love you.” Darkness swam in the corners of your vision but you swore you felt his responding tug. The Mother was kind for granting that hallucinative mercy in your final hours. Your body gave out, slumping against the shackles and darkness overwhelmed you.
Azriel was furious. No, furious wasn’t the word, he was a walking time bomb. You were gone. His mate was missing and he was going to explode. As he’d arrived with Rhys and Cassian to the location you’d given them, he could smell you. His eyes searched frantically around the scene before him until they zeroed in on an item hanging from a branch a few dozen paces out. Cloth of some sort? He approached and could detect your scent on it, realizing quickly it was your clothing. A ripped cotton blouse. His fists clenched and he vaguely heard Rhysand speaking to his left. “They must’ve captured her here.” Rhys crouched down to the ground, two fingers swiping the dirt there, before bringing them eye level to examine sample. “Blood,” he muttered, rubbing the hand on the leg of his pants, “she was injured.” Azriel’s heart thundered, he was going to fucking explode.
He set his shadows work, surveying the forest with rapid precision. They’d cover more ground this way, an army of three operating like a whole infantry. By the time the sun rose to midday, Azriel was ready to begin screaming. They trekked further into the forest, following a line of smoke that was miles deep, originating at a camp somewhere far into the wilds. His shadows murmured to him of a small band of males there, of you, shackled to a fucking tree, arrows buried in your back. He’d nearly lost the contents of his stomach at the information and set to a run alongside Rhysand and Cassian.
As the three approached the encampment, the sun was nearing dusk. Rhysand had commanded the halt and strategize. There were roughly twenty-five men, all armed. They couldn’t enter this blindly and infuriated, they would lose if they weren’t careful. Azriel hated admitting he was right, his instincts screaming otherwise. Mate, mate, mate, his heart pounded.
They backed off to a thousand paces out, close enough that they could hear if the troop vacated the premises. As Rhysand and Cassian spoke quietly, Azriel felt his heart thrum. The golden thread there had pulled him closer to you and he could tell you were still alive. Though Rhys couldn’t reach out through your bargain, Azriel’s bond was still alight and warm, he stroked it with gentle affection. You might not feel it, but Gods he would try.
As the trio retraced their steps to the camp, stars were just beginning to light overhead and Azriel grasped his daggers tightly, knuckles cracking around the hilt. He was going to kill them. Kill them all brutally for taking you, for touching what was his. When they were within a stones throw from the camp he heard it, heard you. “Azriel,” you whispered into his mind. He went stock still, spine ramrod straight, fingers trembling as they gripped his knives. The golden bond vibrated in his chest, and he felt you reaching out through murky waters, against all odds. “I love you,” you said with a soft exhaustion before your side went dark. Azriel’s breathing guttered and he felt high on mirthroot, sick from fae wine, and enraged to the point of explosion all at once. His blue siphons flared brightly from the surge of power. He closed his eyes and reached out to you through the bond, tugging on the thread connecting your souls. He was coming. He was going to save you.
Rhysand looked to him then, curiosity swimming in his eyes as he took in the Shadowsinger’s sudden stop. Azriel opened eyes, irises alight with fire and shadow, voice grinding with dark threat, “Let’s go.” Rhys nodded and Cassian drew his knives.
They moved with brutal efficiency, killing male after male until none remained alive. Some had begged, others shouted and scattered their belongings as they set into a run. His shadows had caught them, twisting around their ankles and dragging them back to meet their fate, daggers slicing throats from ear to ear until blood poured like a prized hunt being slaughtered, the Illryian’s hands grasping and snapping necks like twigs. It was a practiced routine for the three of them, who’d trained since they were teens.
As they stepped through the shrubs to find you, Cassian gasped and Azriel felt his lungs threaten to collapse at the sight. You’d been shackled to a tree at the wrists and ankles and whipped within an inch your life. Wounds glistened with blood along your thighs, soft stomach, ribs, breasts. There had to be thirty lashes. A knife wound was visible at your exposed navel. Your head hung forward unconscious and Azriel’s heart pounded. He wanted to vomit and his hands shook.
“She said you’d come,” a voice said, emerging from behind the tree you were bound to. The male held a dagger to your throat. This new stranger had to be the leader of this band of idiots. Azriel’s eyes followed the tip of the blade up his arm to the male’s eyes and a growl escaped him as he bared his teeth. The male laughed, “to think she said she was nothing and yet I have both the Shadowsinger and the Lord of Bloodshed before me to save her.”
Azriel’s mind latched on to that piece of information, turning it over in his head. You’d told this male you were nothing? Did you not know Azriel would do anything for you? You were everything. You were his love, light of his life, keeper of his soul, his mate. How alone you must’ve felt, how scared. Azriel’s eyes narrowed, he was going kill him.
Rhysand spoke then, emerging from behind the two Illyrian brothers, “And may I ask why you’ve abducted a member of my court?” He was in High Lord mode, tone bored, fingers picking at his sleeve. The Hybern male’s smile gleamed at the introduction, “just who I was hoping to see!”
“Hybern, the old fool, made a few promises in his last days as King,” the male spoke, digging the blade down to your chest, where it rested over your heart. Azriel stared at the blade, eyes tracing to the the hilt. That was your blade, the one he’d given you when you first arrived in Velaris, the one you wielded against Eris, the one you kept strapped to your thigh. Your own knife had been used against you.
“One of which was that I would inherit these lands after your lot were annihilated.” Azriel wanted to laugh at the male’s words, was he serious? “A dead king cannot honor empty promises,” he ground out eyes shifting to the male’s blue eyes. “A dead and headless king cannot gift you shit,” Azriel spat. The male smiled then, a feline grin growing on his lips. “Precisely Shadowsinger, a dead king cannot give me my due, but this little thing can help.” You’d made a noise then, something akin to a whimper as you came to. Eyes wincing then fluttering open as your irises found Azriel’s immediately, some preternatural magnetism existing between the two of you. Then you looked to Cassian and Rhysand, and your eyes swam with apology.
“She awakens!” The male sang, looking to you. Azriel jumped at the opportunity to send his shadows out while the male’s attention was elsewhere. They traced over the ground to you, circling the tree and working at your binds. He sent two others towards the distracted male. “Who knew the Night Court was so attached to a whore,” the male laughed, “I want my lands,” he fixed Rhysand with a glare, “you can have your plaything back in exchange for my seat, High Lord” he sneered.
Rhysand looked from you to the stranger to the shadow now creeping ever closer to the male. “You must be mistaken,” Rhys said then and Azriel’s shadows wrapped around the male’s neck and wrist simultaneously, whispering violence for touching their mate, forcing the dagger from his grasp and air from his lungs. Azriel tightened them until they heard bones crack in the male’s arm and choked sounds exit his throat, face reddening as oxygen was cut off. “I do not make deals with dim witted cunts,” Rhysand said darkness beginning to surround him, High Lord voice encroaching, “I do not entertain terrorists and I do not take kindly to threats on my family.”
‘Finish him,’ Rhysand said darkly into Azriel’s mind and the Shadowsinger moved with lightening precision, dagger find purchase as the male’s neck was sliced open and his right hand was removed from his body. The male’s body toddled forward with a choked gurgling, before falling to the ground, lifeless, blood pooling.
Azriel’s gaze fell to you and he softened. His shadows finished picking the lock of the shackles that held your arms and they clicked open, allowing your body to fall into his. “Azriel,” you breathed, voice weary with exhaustion, “I didn’t— I—“ you stuttered, pulling a shaking hand to his face. You swallowed, tracing his cheek with trembling fingers, “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” you murmured, your watery eyes searching his face, memorizing the details of his visage.
Azriel picked you up in his arms and unfurled his wings protectively. “I will always come for you,” he said vehemently, eyes watching your face with intensity. You smiled, a weepy trembling smile as you nodded. Rhysand reached the Shadowsinger’s side then and your eyes moved to his violet ones, “Hi Little One, I’m so sorry we’re late.” You let out a single watery laugh before wincing as the sudden expansion of your chest burned the wounds littering your chest and back.
“The arrows,” you gasped, “at my back,” you twisted in Azriel’s hold, “please get them out.” Rhysand leaned down to inspect the wounds. “Faebane,” he surmised, that’s why his connection to you had been severed. “We need to get her to Madja, now.” Azriel nodded, allowing Rhys and Cassian to move closer so the High Lord could winnow them home.
Landing back at the House of Wind had been chaotic. Rhysand shouted immediately to get every healer available and the dining room table had been lined with a sheet, turning the warm family room into a medical ward. You were laid facedown on the table and Azriel took to your side, scarred hands touching your face, keeping you awake as Madja worked to remove the six arrows burrowed in your body.
You’d screamed. The sound would haunt Azriel for centuries. You begged to make it stop and Madja had apologized softly as she worked faster to remove them while minimizing damage. “I’ve got you,” Azriel said softly, “eyes on me, alright?” He rubbed the hollow under your eye with a scarred thumb and you opened your eyes to lock on his. “No gloves,” you said, smiling tightly, before wincing as Madja applied local anesthetic to an arrow wound. Azriel smiled, eyes a little watery. “Not with you,” he whispered shaking his head, “never with you.” You smiled at him and the sight set Azriel’s heart to fluttering.
Later, after the arrows had been removed and wounds bandaged, you’d been given a strong herb tonic for pain that set your head swimming as exhaustion overtook you. Azriel carried you his room, laying you gently onto the mattress and covered you with the duvet. He leaned down then, breathing in your scent as he placed a kiss to your forehead, nuzzling his nose to the Winter white hair there. He would tell you. When you awoke, he would bare his soul to you.
You woke with a groan. Fucking Gods, your body ached with the effort it took to roll over. “Easy,” a voice came from the corner of the room. Your breath gasped out of you as your eyes raced to the figure there. “Azriel,” you breathed. The male smiled warmly at you and stepped forward to rest at the edge of the mattress. You pushed up in the bed, the wound at your shoulder screaming from the exertion. Once in a sitting position, you rested your back on the headboard as you looked at him. “For taking out a small militia, you seemed to be decently uninjured,” you said smiling tightly, memories of the stranger and his whip haunting your mind. He snorted a small laugh, “Yes well,” he looked down then, thumbs fiddling with each other, chest heating, “I had something worth fighting for.”
He looked back to you and your cheeks had grown pink, a small pleased smile at your lips. “I heard you, you know,” he said softly, turning enough to rest a hand on your thigh, thumb drawing small, soothing circles there. The heat generated in the touch sent a spark to your belly. Oh, you were fucked. “I heard you in my head, through the bond,” he said eyes watching his thumb as it traced on your bare skin hypnotically.
“You know then?” You whispered, breath skittering out of you. You were scared to death of the trajectory the conversation was taking, your heart preparing for the best and the worst simultaneously. Azriel’s eyes dragged up your form to your face and a smile broke over his lips, one that caused your heart to ignite. Your Mother had once told you the heart was an organ of fire and you’d laughed, never having cause to believe such a statement. You understood now.
“I—“ Azriel started, before clearing his throat, turning his body to face you in full, a knee pulled up on the mattress, touching yours. “In the whole time I have known you— two centuries, Little One,” he looked at you pointedly, “you have been my dearest friend, my greatest comfort, my confidant, and the person I admire most in this Gods forsaken world.” He breathed deeply, a whoosh exiting his lips as his hand tightened around your thigh. “The times when you were lost to me have been some of the most painful moments I’ve experienced.”
Your eyes began to water, and you moved a hand to rest atop his own, thumb circling the scarred skin at his wrist. He took a breath then and the air shifted between you, his mouth opening and closing, as if he was gathering his confidence for what he was about to say next. “I have loved for you so long that I’d given up all hope of reciprocation.” The words shattered through you as all air escaped your lungs, guts swooping down as heat alighted there. “I felt the bond the night Eris came for you,” he continued, eyes watching your entwined hands. Your body went still and a startled laugh exited your mouth. Azriel’s eyes flew to yours questioningly.
“Sorry,” you chuckled again, “I’m just realizing how fucking stupid we’ve been.” You lolled your to the side, watching him with loving eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for almost two centuries, Azriel,” you smiled, “I thought you wouldn’t want me.” Azriel’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing in disbelief, two then three times. You thought for a second to compare him to the guppy fish that swam in schools along the banks of the Sidra but refrained.
He pushed forward then, hands coming to cup your face, pinky and ring fingers resting in the hollow below your ear, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “How could I not? You’re everything,” he whispered, searching your face, conviction showing in his eyes. You couldn’t stop the smile that overtook your mouth as you spoke, “and you’re my mate.” His eyes moved to your lips, glazing before they moved back to your eyes. “As you are mine,” he spoke confidently.
Your eyes watched each other for a long second, “I really hope you’ll kiss me this time,” your hand trailed up his arm, fingers teasing. “Mother knows I’ve been dreaming of it for far too long.” He surged forward, lips meeting yours and you thought you might float away. You gasped and his tongue moved in, claiming your mouth, your taste with his own.
He pulled away minutes later, a little breathless, “Sorry to have kept you waiting, my love,” he spoke, resting his forehead to yours with a smile, watching your dazed expression, pink cheeks, as your lips split into a grin. Your hand moved to the front of his button down, fisting in the material there, giving an experimental tug. “Kiss me like that again and I’ll consider forgiving you.”
The laugh that came out of him was golden, and you pushed yourself to memorize it. Azriel, Lord of Shadows, Spymaster for the Night Court, Rhysand’s right hand and Illyrian warrior was soft for you. He loved you. He was your mate. You’d be giddy about it for the rest of your life.
Your healing had been slower than you would’ve liked. The faebane had done serious damage but with Madja’s help, the scarring was minimized. The lashes at your front took two weeks to heal, the arrow wounds took three. Three fucking weeks. Meanwhile all you could think about was your mate. He hadn’t left your side in the interim. Helping you take steps, applying the wound creams that Madja had left in small glass pots, keeping you fed, making you laugh, telling you how much he loved you daily. Mother above, you were going to ruin this male.
You walked into the kitchen at the end of week three, the only evidence of your wounds now in the slight limp of your right leg and twinge in your left shoulder. The marks at your stomach and chest had diminished into barely there, silver scores. Cassian was sitting at the small table in the corner as you entered. “Hi Cass,” you greeted, “seen my mate around this morning?” It was fun calling him that, a small part of your chest swelling with pride each time.
Cassian smirked, “He’s been…… out.” Your eyes narrowed, he was being evasive. “Out where?” You asked, grabbing an apple and hopping up on the counter to watch the male. He shrugged, “No idea, Little One.” You smirked, “I know where you sleep Cassian,” you started, “is it really wise to lie to me?” Nesta strode into the kitchen, “What’s he done now?” She asked laughing. “Hey! I’ll have you know I’ve done nothing!” The male exclaimed, “She’s interrogating me on the whereabouts of her maaate.” He dragged out the vowel of the last word mockingly. Nesta took her seat next to Cassian and laughed, “Ah, him.” She looked to you then, “he’ll be around to collect you soon.”
You looked between the two, suspicion dripping from your features as you took another bite from the apple in your palm. “You two are being weird,” you stated. Nesta shrugged, nudging Cassian who smiled at her. “Just wait,” she said softly, “maybe cook yourself a meal.” Cassian’s mouth quirked with a laugh he restrained. “Right, I’m leaving, cause whatever this is,” you waved a hand at them, “is deeply odd.” You hopped off the counter and strolled to the exit. You heard them laughing softly once you were out of the room, making you roll your eyes at their antics.
You’d gone to the library after leaving the kitchen and found Elain already there. Her eyes moved to you upon your entrance and she closed her book, middle finger marking her spot. “How are you feeling?” She asked softly, eyes surveying your body for lingering damage. You sighed, falling into the sofa across from her. “I’m better,” you said quietly, “the pain is gone, scars are minimal.” You turned your eyes to her, she looked brighter than the last time you’d seen her. “How are you?” You asked in return. She smiled sweetly. “Better,” she echoed you and you wanted to laugh. “I’ve been exchanging letters with Lucien,” she added and your ears perked up.
“That’s great, Elain,” you rest your chin on a closed fist, watching her. She shifted and sat her book to the side, page forgotten. “I want to tell you something,” she said quietly, fingers twiddling with each other. She looked... nervous? “I’m all ears,” you said softly.
“I had a vision while you were gone,” she started and took a deep breath. “It was so muddled at first, I couldn’t tell who it was, but then I saw you. Your hair was longer, you stood taller, and your belly was round.” The breath left your body in a powerful exhale. She looked to you again, eyes watching yours, “You were pregnant and happy and in love,” she said quietly, as if the words in themselves were fragile. Your hands trembled and you moved them under your thighs, her eyes didn’t miss the action.
“I couldn’t understand why the Mother would send me a vision like that, I saw Feyre’s pregnancy, but we’re sisters, you know?” You nodded. “Then I realized I recognized the tattooed arm I’d seen wrap around you, knew it was Azriel.” Your eyes watered, and you hiccuped out a small laugh. “I’ve known for a while you two were fated, but the Mother was telling me for certain. I hope you know how happy we are for you.” She finished and moved to sit next you, small hand touching your knee.
“When they brought you in that night, I thought the Mother had lied to me, that it was a vision of what could have been, that you wouldn’t make it.” You’d never heard Elain speak at length in this way, and you thought you might stop breathing. “I’ve never been happier to see you than when Azriel brought you in to read days later, my sweet friend.” You surged forward, throwing your arms around the female and she returned the gesture warmly.
You sat back and looked at her then. “Thank you,” you said, voice small, a little watery. She nodded before turning to resume her original spot at the end of the sofa, picking up her book and opening it to the page she’d left off.
In the hours that followed, you’d returned to the kitchen, grateful to find Cassian and Nesta had left. You took Nesta’s advice, gathering the ingredients to build a small berry tart. It had just gone in the oven when your mate appeared in the doorway.
“Hello love,” he said casually, leaning against the door jamb. You startled, turning on your heel to find him smiling at you. “Where have you been?” You asked walking towards him and running your hands around his midsection in a hug, head resting against his chest. His arm came around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your hair, breathing in your scent. “That, my dearest one, is a surprise.”
You looked up chin resting against his chest, watching his face. “It’d better be good, I baked for you,” you said, smiling softly at the Spymaster. His eyes moved to the oven then and back to you, irises darkening, as his pupils blew a little wide. “You… baked?” He asked disbelieving, “didn’t know you knew how to bake,” he followed up playfully. You gasped and shoved him, “for that, you can starve, have fun finding another mate to bake for you.” He laughed heartily and caught your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, eyes swimming with warm affection as he pressed a kiss there. Gods, the action made lust swoop in your stomach, heat spreading.
“The fool I’d be to turn away such a female,” he said, voice deepening, lips running across your knuckles with each word. “Azriel” you breathed. “Yes?” He offered in return, still smiling, moving your knuckles back and forth against his hot mouth. “Please tell me this surprise involves you bedding me.” A growl creeped out of his throat, the thought of you under him sending lust racing down his spine and to his groin.
“It might,” he said quietly, lips resuming their exploration, tracking small kisses from your knuckles, to the joint of your thumb, the inside of your wrist where Rhys’ tattoo lingered, up the soft skin of your arm, to your elbow, until he reached the skin of your shoulder. His lips traced over the raised skin there, a small nip above the scar as he traced north to your collarbone. You’d gone to putty in his hands, head rolling to the side to bare your throat. He pressed soft kisses there, pausing at your pulse point to trace the area with his warm tongue, a whimper escaping your mouth.
“If this is going to become a regular thing, I’ll need you two to relocate to the River House,” a voice came from behind you and you jumped in shock, but your mate, he let out a possessive growl before turning on the intruder. Rhysand laughed airily and folded his arms over his chest. “Easy, brother,” he smiled, causing Azriel to roll his eyes. You blinked a little dazed, and pulled away from the Shadowsinger. “You’re gonna make me burn my fucking tart,” you shoved him with an arm and laughed as you turned to resume your place at the oven.
Azriel instructed you to dress comfortably and be ready in a hour as he kissed your knuckles one last time and exited the kitchen. Butterflies roamed freely in your stomach at the thought of what he had planned. You’d returned to your quarters after removing the tart from the oven and portioning it into a small travel sized container. You were going to accept the bond, and your nerves were alight with anxious excitement. After you dressed in a lightweight linen dress, you packed a small bag with your remaining creams, and the boxed tart you’d prepared earlier.
You descended the stairs to find Azriel waiting at the base, his wings standing proudly behind him, shadows skittering around his feet. At the sight of you they raced to meet on the bottom step, running up your legs, around your waist and into your hair. A laugh escaped you as one nuzzled into the space behind your ear. Azriel watched fondly. “They love you,” he said smiling, taking a step to meet you, “ever since the bond snapped, I’ve had the hardest time reining them back from touching you.”
You reached a hand out to meet his, interlacing your fingers. “They’re cute, but you’re cuter,” you said with gentle affection. A shadow pinched at your waist and Azriel’s cheeks went a little pink as he laughed.
“Will you tell me what the surprise is?” You asked as he walked you toward the training balcony. “I’m afraid I’m very poorly dressed for training,” you joked. He snorted, “no, we’re not training.” He came to rest at the railing and then turned to you, running a hand up your arm, fingers moving to hold the back of your neck, warm palm heating the skin there, thumb grazing your jawline. “Amongst many things I’ve been terribly late for recently, I realize I owe you a date.”
Your face went a little puzzled and you looked to his eyes. “A date?” You questioned. He nodded, “I was supposed to take you flying.” Realization dawned on your features and a smile overtook your lips, each tooth shining in the setting sun. “I wanted to kiss you that night too,” you admitted laughing, remembering how desperate you’d been for his touch and attention. He smiled softly, “you have no idea how angry I was with Rhys for calling me away.” Your eyes widened, still in disbelief that this male wanted you return. It seemed both a millennia in the making and still so new and fragile.
Azriel snuck an arm around your waist and brought you up into the stretch of his firm body. His other hand tracing down your hip, then thigh, to curve under your knees as he picked you up. His wings unfurled and he shot into the air. A shaky laugh startled out of you and you gripped him tighter, your arms winding around his neck. His wings flapped in thunderous bursts, taking you higher, until you could see the entirety of Velaris spread below, the Sidra flowing like a snake through the winding city. Your breath left you in awe. “The Peregryn was right,” you said loud enough for him to hear and he smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple.
The flight was short, but it took you to the rural banks of the Sidra on the outskirts of the city, just before it emptied into the sea. You could see ships sailing into the harbor, moonlight beginning to trickle across the water. This was undeniably special, you thought, no one would see you up here and you felt like this was the edge of the world itself. You turned to Azriel, finding his eyes already watching you. “Thank you,” you said softly, leaning into him, his chin meeting your forehead as you moved your body to rest alongside the length of his. His hand came to rest at the small of your back, pinky stretching to graze the curve of your bottom. Wherever this was going, you were very interested.
He turned and grasped your hand, pulling you back up the hill and away from the view, towards a field of wildflowers and grasses. There, in the middle, a blanket had been laid out, small candles lit to illuminate the setting. A basket sat in one corner, a bottle of fae wine held within with an assortment of pastries, breads, and cheeses. You realized quickly that your mate, the male you’d loved for damn near two centuries, was courting you. The thought thrilled you.
He led you to the blanket and motioned for you to sit next him. “I must confess, I never took you for a romantic,” you said looking from the candles, to the basket, and then to him. He was watching you again. He smiled, laughing a bit nervously, “I’m a lot of things,” he said and your eyebrow quirked. “Oh yeah? Like what?” You challenged him and he loved you for it. You made him feel easy to love, you made loving fun and freeing. Azriel had once only thought freedom could be found in fucking and flying, then he’d found you and he knew it was there too. In the smile of your lips, in the thrill of your touch, in the ease of your love.
“Well,” he started, moving his wings to lean into you, pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder. The action caused you to shiver. “I’m a spymaster.” You snorted, “no shit.” A laugh rumbled in his chest. “I’m a bit shy as you well know, I’m quite fond of dancing, I’m—” he hummed the last letter, pausing his thoughts and moving his lips up your neck. “I’m in love with you,” he said biting into the flesh at the juncture of your collarbone and throat, cock hardening at the sound that rolled out of your mouth. “I’m going to take you right here, on this blanket, under the stars.”
You gasped, your hands moved find purchase in the hair at the back of his head, fingers winding through the strands, nails dragging at his scalp. His nose ran the length of your jawline before his lips found yours. He rumbled a small hum the instant his mouth touched your own. At first it was a gentle press, teasing you as he had done today in the kitchen at the House of Wind. The adrenaline racing up your spine made you feel like you might vibrate out of your skin. His hand reached up then, threading broad fingers into your hair as he took the kiss deeper. Tonguing the bottom of your lip until your mouth opened, his tongue stroking your own. Humming with contentment, he tilted your head, deepening the kiss at a new angle that had heat swooping down to your core.
You brought your left hand to his shoulder, fisting your fingers in the fabric there and pulling him closer. He understood your intention and leaned you back into the blanket, pleasure alighting each nerve as his body pressed into your own. He eased up on your lips and began a slow trek south, pulling the strap of your dress down the curve of your shoulder, leaving a love bite there that had you gasping. He kissed down the bust line of the dress, laving his tongue at the swell of your breast. Your breath was coming in pants and you pressed yourself up on your elbows as he moved further south, fingertips tracing the hem of your dress that had risen to the middle of your thigh.
He looked back to you and smiled, mischief playing in his eyes as he ran his hands up your thighs, the slow drag pulling the dress with it. “I’ve been thinking about your cunt for centuries,” he said, his lips on your knee, pressing insistently as they moved north. “I’ve been dreaming of making you come on my tongue since I met you.”
Your breath leaves you in one fell swoop as you feel his tongue at the juncture of your hip and thigh. His mouth was insistent at skin there, tonguing the lace of your panties before pulling them down your legs and off entirely. He picked up a foot, placing it to his chest as he traced the long line of your body with hungry eyes. You were panting already, dressed rucked up around your waist, straps fallen down your arms and breasts heaving. His gaze flowed south and landed on your pink cunt, glistening, begging for him. His eyes went back to your face then, and his titled his head to the side, “Will you let me eat your pretty little cunt?” He asked fingertips tracing the scars of your calf with reverence. He brought your foot up, kissing the inside of the ankle, then nosing his way over your scarred calf, suckling at the skin there. “Please,” he added, eyes moving back to yours as his mouth continued his ministrations.
“Mother above, Azriel,” you breathed and a laughed startled out of you, “you are mouthy.” He chuckled darkly then, nipping at your knee, taking special care to press a gentle kiss at the new scar there. “Is that a no then?” He said softly and your head fell back with a groan, exposing your neck to his view. “As if,” you said, head pulling back up and lolling to the side to rest on your shoulder. “I’ve thought about it too, and if you back out now I will explode.” He laughed again, freely this time, forehead resting on your thigh.
His eyes find yours again, and he kept them there as he traced his lips north. He nosed the juncture of your cunt and inner thigh, running a tongue along your mound. You gasped and eyes narrowed, watching him with rapt attention. He pressed a kiss to the top of your slit and his hands come up to open you to him, pulling the lips apart and tonguing the collected moisture there. Your head fell back as your elbows gave way, falling flat against the blanket.
“You taste better than I imagined,” he said before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. The moan that left you had his hips pushing into the ground to find relief as his cock begged for release. His tongue flicked against your clit as he sucked and hummed. He thought this might become his favorite place in all of Prythian. He thought that every bad thing that had happened in his life seemed insignificant now that he was able to worship freely between your thighs. He traced fingers up and paused to wet them on his tongue, before pushing his middle and ring finger in to the second knuckle, pulling them out and scissoring them back in again. His tongue found your sweet little button for a second time that night and he laved at it, listening to your cries as he pushed you to the brink. Azriel’s life had been a nightmare, but between your thighs, mouth on your cunt, walls fluttering around his fingers, he thought he’d been blessed by the Mother herself.
Your hips rocked up in time with his fingers and you cried as your gut twisted, the coil there tightening. “Az-“ you gasped. “Azriel,” you went a little whiny on the vowels of his name, and your hand reached down to thread your fingers into his hair, nails scratching and tugging the strands. He hummed, the vibration sending shocks up your spine. “Azriel, baby,” you gasped, coming up on an elbow again, rutting your hips into his face as he took you higher. He didn’t let up, suckling at your cunt, fingers finding the spongy spot on the backside of your clit that made the world go blank “Azriel!” you gasped again, hips stuttering out, “Fuck, fuck— oh.” In seconds you were reaching your peak, hips faltering, thighs twitching, toes curling into the hard planes of his back.
He pulled his mouth off of you, pressing kisses to your pubic bone as he moved north up your stomach. He eyes were alight with desire, the male was pure want and you were his last meal. He pulled his fingers from your cunt and trailed them up to rest at your neck as he slotted his body between your thighs and kissed you. The hedonism of tasting yourself on his mouth made you wetter, cunt pressing into the hard line of his cock, still restricted in his trousers. He moaned at the contact, mouth leaving yours to rest his head against your chin and gather himself. The sound sent a pleasurable shock directly to your core. You grasped the hand at your throat and brought his fingers up and to your mouth, tongue laving at them before taking them to the knuckle, and pulling back slow, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking, keeping your eyes on his. He bared his teeth the sight and ground his hard cock into you, the friction on your clit making your thighs twitch.
“My sweet little mate,” he cooed. “Love of my life,” he nosed your cheek, his fingers still in your mouth. “All my dreaming has been put to shame it would seem,” he pulled his fingers from your mouth and replaced them with his tongue, his hands flying to his belt. He growled in struggle and you ventured a laugh. His eyes found yours and his jaw ticked, “keep laughing, sweet girl, I’ll fuck your throat next and you won’t come.” Your eyes went a little wide and a feline grin appeared on your face. “Mouthy indeed,” you said with glee as he finally got the buckle undone and pushed the pants down and off.
His shirt went next and your fingers traced up his exposed arms to his shoulders. “I’ve seen you shirtless a dozen times, and you still take my breath away,” you said softly, a hand resting on his pectoral. He laughed and went a little pink, before he pushed your dress up your body and over your head, leaving you bare. “I’ve always been impressed by your ability to so disarming,” he said, mouth finding the space above your breast as his hands came to cup them, fingers toying with the nipples. “It’s my favorite thing about you, you see me in a way I can’t even see myself,” he followed up.
Your eyes watered at the admission and your hands found his face, bringing his mouth back to yours as you kissed him again, tongue entwining with his. Your hands grasped his shoulders, as your leg found his hip and you pushed him over, onto his back. Your hands came to rest on his chest as you settled your weight on his lower abdomen. You could feel his manhood standing to attention, insistent at the curve of your ass and you reached around to grasp it, pushing your chest out for his greedy eyes. Taking him in long strokes, you ran your hand up and down, circling your thumb around the head. His eyes screwed shut as his breathing shallowed.
“Wanna know a secret, baby?” You offered, rocking your hips in time with your strokes. He whined then, the Lord of Shadows keened a little whine for you that had you ready to come right there. “Last time we hosted a gala, that night before Hybern,” you were panting, “all I could think about was taking you to bed.” His eyes opened and hazel was gone blacked out in pure desire. His hands found your hips and his own began to move in time with you. “I thought about riding you,” you said, twisting your hand in a way that had his breath guttering out of him. “I thought you might love me in the way you looked at me.” His eyes softened and he leaned up, hands tracing up your spine as he pressed kisses to your chest.
“I loved you that night and every night since,” he said before tonguing a nipple and sucking it into his mouth. “That dress you wore, my color, had me hard for a week.” You laughed then removing your hand from his cock and bringing both to his face, so you could kiss him. His hands slipped to your ass then, palming the cheeks as his tongue moved in tandem with yours. When you moved back from him, a string of salvia still connected you two, you reached up to comb fingers through his hair gently.
“I brought you something,” you said quietly, looking to the corner of the quilt where your bag had dropped ages ago. His brow furrowed, confusion showing in his features. “You don’t have to, but I brought some of that tart. If you want,” you offered the statement nervously, as if there was still a chance for rejection. Azriel’s heart went soft and his brain turned to mush.
“You want to accept it?” He questioned, hands sliding up your back and to your waist. You smiled and looked at him incredulously, “Of course I want to accept it, it feels like I’ve waited a millennia for you.” You’d laughed a bit and that feeling of home raced through him again. Gods, he was fucked.
You leaned off his lap, pulling the strap of your bag to you and unzipped it. There, packaged in a little glass container, lay a small slice of the berry tart you’d fretted over earlier in the day. “Nesta made some stupid comment about ‘cooking’ when I’d asked where you were,” you laughed in hindsight at the female’s leading words. “She knew because Cassian knew, he helped me with the food and candles,” Azriel murmured pushing your hair up and over your shoulder.
He pulled the container from your grasp then and opened it before picking the pastry up with his fingers, the same fingers that had been inside you minutes ago. Eyes on yours he took the first bite, your heart thrumming as the golden thread of your bond lit up like the sunrise. His eyes never left yours as he consumed the pastry in four bites, swallowing and pulling his fingers into his mouth at the remaining sweetness there.
The bond between you two was shining, strong and thrumming with love. ‘Hi,’ you tried, your thoughts reaching out to him. He smiled, laughing freely, and his voice came through clearly, ‘Hi, Little One.’ You choked out a laugh, eyes watering as you leaned forward to kiss him, tasting the berries on his tongue. ‘Can I make love to my mate now?’ He questioned down the bond and you laughed again. His hands were already tracing your hips as you leaned forward, hand reaching underneath to guide him into your cunt. Lowering yourself down, you rocked forward once then twice in order to take him to the hilt.
Mother above, he was big. His cock was thick and filled you wholly, pushing against your cervix making your eyes flutter in pleasure. You thought of the comment Mor had made about wingspan once decades ago and you heard him laugh, “I’m flattered, truly,” he said playfully, reading your thoughts and nipping at your shoulder.
You rose up again and set to riding him slowly, hips moving in long strokes as his hands traced your ass, pulling at the flesh there in time with your movements. You gave a experimental squeeze of your walls, and he keened a loud moan that had you speeding up your flow. “You keep that up, Little One and I won’t last,” he panted at your throat. “That’s rather the point,” you laughed breathlessly, your own hand moving to cup your breast, the other sliding down to circle your clit. His eyes traced the view greedily, moving down to the point where you connected, watching your cunt take him in full, his cock glistening with your shared wetness. He bared his teeth at the sight, a rumble lighting in his chest.
Just as your walls began to flutter with your impending orgasm, he grasped you and flipped you to your back, pulling your hands from your body and entwining your fingers with his own on each side of your head. He ground his pelvis in deep and your legs hitched higher around his waist. “Azriel, fucking Gods,” you called out at the switch in angle, the tip of his cock grinding into your cervix. He hummed at your throat, teeth marking you there as his hips pulled out and pushed in, grinding each time he bottomed out into you. His wings flared behind him and you thought you’d never seen a more beautiful sight.
“You take me so well, my love,” he panted, “you were made for me.” You whined then, cunt fluttering around him as he bottomed out deep and held it there, grinding his pubic bone into your clitoris. The pleasure raced up your spine and you thought you’d never be able to leave this place, might have to keep him inside you forever. He growled, reading your thoughts. “You want me to fuck this cunt forever?” He asked aloud leaning up, pulling his hands from yours.
You whined at the loss, but the sound died as he pulled your legs up his waist to his shoulders, kissing the scarred calf. He drew his cock out, only to slam back in. “Fuck,” you moaned out, voice going up two octaves. “You want me between your thighs for the rest of my days?” He said again, hips moving faster, your hands moving to your tits as they bounced from the impact. His eyes watched the movement and he bared his teeth again, turning his head to bite into the flesh of your calf.
“Azriel!” You called out again, pleasure zipped up your spine and you felt your stomach tighten. “Az, baby, I’m so close.” He chuckled darkly. “Be a good girl and come on my cock,” he said as his fingers traced down your leg to find your clit, rubbing the bundle in quick, timed circles. “Az- I-,” you barely got the words out before your orgasm overtook you, a long moan exiting your mouth as your cunt tightened around him, he ground into you and worked you through it, before dropping your legs back to his hips and pistoning deeper.
“My sweet mate,” he gasped at the skin of your throat, mouth tracing up to find yours, hands finding purchase on your thighs as he pulled you open, allowing him dive deeper. “My darling love,” he moaned and his tongue moved with yours, your hips pushing up to meet his thrusts, walls fluttering against his velvet length with the remnants of your orgasm.
You ventured your hand up his shoulder to the base of a wing and traced your fingers up the membrane to the bone. His eyes twisted shut, and he keened a low primal whine that had your cunt ready to come again. At the tightening of your walls, he groaned dark and deep, shadows seeping from him, as he pushed in, grinding against the innermost portion of you. His hips pulled out slightly and then pushed back in as his cock kicked, come spurting against your walls. He panted against your throat as his hands released their hold on your thighs and moved up your body before grasping your throat. He moved up to lean over you and his eyes found your own. He gave an experimental thrust of his hips and your eyes widened. Fucking Cauldron, he was still hard.
He laughed then, nuzzling at your mouth as he nipped at your bottom lip. “I’m giving you five,” his voice was deeper than you’d ever heard it, “and then I’m eating my come from your cunt and fucking you until the sun comes up.”
You gasped out a laugh as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. ‘They call it frenzy for a reason,’ you thought, kissing along his cheekbone and to his mouth. Gods, you were fucked.
#acotar fanfiction#acotar x reader#acotar x you#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel acotar#azriel spymaster#azriel supremacy#i love this bat boy sm#azriel fanfic#azriel smut#hoo boy this is nasty#Save a horse ride a bat boy am i right?#bat boys#bat boys x reader#azriel imagine#acotar imagine#acomaf#acowar#acosf#acofas#azriel acomaf#azriel acosf
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TW: drugging, sa, Bucky x protective reader
I’m in a whumpy angsty mood where I want everyone, I mean EVERYONE to be protective and caring over Bucky, taking care of him and making sure he’s okay.
TW: Sexual assault (not reader), drugging
Bucky takes a sip of his drink and immediately knows something isn’t right. He doesn’t get drunk, he can’t. So why did his entire body suddenly feel lax and his vision hazy. He blinks a few times, trying to focus but it only makes everything worse, his skin feeling warm.
“Doll?” He tries to get up and look for you, only to stumble as he gets out of the chair. The rest of what happens in a blur when a pair of soft hands help steady him.
-
“Has anyone seen Bucky?” You come around to the lounge area in search of your favorite super soldier, surprised when he wasn’t sitting with the rest of the team either.
“Thought he was with you” Steve looked confused while Sam smirked; everyone knew the way Bucky trailed behind you like a lost puppy, so it was strange that you of all people, didn’t know where he was...
“Last I saw him was....he’s gone” Nat frowned, seeing the bar stool not only empty but also knocked over.
“Where could he be” You scanned the room once more, feeling uneasy when you still couldn't find him. “Let me go check his room” You decided to make your way up to the elevator while Nat followed just to be safe, the both of you surprised to see the door slightly ajar.
“No”
The muffled sound coming from his room made your heart race faster, his strained voice barely audible.
“Please, no”
You saw red, striding over to his room, bursting through the door, gasping when you saw a woman straddled on top of him, her hands working at the buttons of his shirt. Her eyes grew wide, yelping when you ripped her off him, throwing her to the floor.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” You spat, punching her across the jaw, your knuckles connecting with her teeth causing your skin to split while she cried out.
“Well-well he wanted me too!” The woman spat causing another surge of anger to flow through you, lunging for her again.
You were ready to tear her to shreds but a soft whimper pulled you out of your rage. You turned to see Bucky’s tear streaked face, waiting for you to hold him. Nat nodded for you to go to him, grabbing he woman by the hair, covering her mouth from screaming too much, not wanting to stress Bucky more.
“Don’t make a sound” Nat hissed in her ear, pinching a nerve to keep her still while calling for he rest of the team to come up.
“Doll” Bucky clung onto you like a small child, still struggling to understand what was going on, all he knew was that he was safe again when you protecting him.
“Bucky, I’m here baby, it’s okay, I got you” you cooed, holding him tightly, covering him with the sheets, your heart breaking over his vulnerable state. He shook his head in confusion, while you stroked soft circles on his back to calm him.
“Is he okay?” Nat tightened her grip around the woman while you blinked back tears, soothing Bucky.
“What the hells going on” Tony frowned, approaching the room with Steve and Sam in tow after seeing Nat’s text message.
“She drugged him. Tried to have her way with him” Nat snarled while Steve’s jaw clenched at the sight of he woman who nearly rolled her eyes while his best friend was in distress. He held back from doing something he'd regret, mumbling something to Nat before coming over to Bucky. Bucky stayed hidden in your comfort, whining whenever you shifted, terrified you’d leave him, needing you more than ever.
“Stay with me?” He pleaded softly, still feeling so out of control, his head spinning, the touch of the other woman still burning his skin. “Don’t want her, want you”
“I know baby, it’s me, don’t worry, not going anywhere” you whispered, kissing his forehead as he relaxed slightly, closing his eyes. “Stay awake for me though Bucky, alright? I need you to stay up”
“But m’so tired” Bucky slurred, his eyes growing heavy once again, your hand gently patting his cheek to keep him from sleeping.
“I know baby” You continued to rock him while he struggled to keep his eyes open.
“You’re gonna kick her ass for all of us, right?” Sam whispered to Nat, the redhead silently nodding, already planning on ripping the woman apart as she dragged her away.
“Buck, you alright?” Steve spoke softly, his eyes filling with tears at the small nod Bucky mustered. Sam joined his side, gently squeezing Bucky’s shoulder.
“We’re here for you, okay? Just stay awake for us Buck”
Bucky let out a muffled hum, his body still running hotter than usual, making it harder for him to stay awake.
“Sam, get him some water please” You whispered while he nodded, running off to grab some, coming back seconds later. You brought the glass to his lips, helping him drink before setting it aside. “Baby, can I take this off? I’ll help you feel better” Bucky let you take off the rest of his shirt, everyone leaving the room so you could help him with the rest of his clothes, covering him back up in your arms once he was just in his briefs.
Tony brought over his suit to run a quick rest over the drugs that were now in his system using a needle to get a sample of blood to scan.
“Its okay, it’ll be quick terminator, I promise” Tony whispered, doing his best to only take a tiny amount not stressing him more, so he could get an immediate reading on what Bucky had been given, breathing a sigh of relief when it wasn’t anything that would cause major harm or damage. “Standard narcotics. Just a fuck ton though. It’ll be out of his system without an issue but stay with him”
You nodded, carefully monitoring Bucky until he was less groggy and disoriented, the both of you still wrapped up in the sheets. He blinked at the sight of your slightly bloodied hand, kissing your palm before pressing it against his cheek.
“Are you okay baby” you whispered against his hair while he continued to nuzzle into you, not wanting to leave your warmth.
“You protected me” He whispered, burying himself further into your hold, finally being able to fall asleep now that enough time had passed. “My angel”
“I’ll always protect you my love” you whispered, holding him tighter as he closed his eyes, “Always”
#Bucky Barnes#James Buchanan Bucky Barnes#bucky#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x freader#bucky barnes x fluff#bucky barnes angst#Bucky Barnes x female reader#Bucky Barnes x f!reader#Bucky Barnes x F Reader#bucky x Female Reader#bucky x f reader#bucky x f!reader#bucky x female yn#bucky x protective reader#bucky angst#bucky imagine#bucky fanfic#bucky fan fiction#bucky fan fic#bucky fan fics#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fan fiction#bucky barnes fan fic#bucky barnes x reader#marvel angst#marvel fanfiction#marvel fanfic#avengers agnst
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Amber eyes, looking into mine
Summary: Eris finds something in his study that triggers him into a frozen state of panic. Who better suited to pulling Eris from his past than his future?
Author’s note: I wrote this in under an hour so please be nice and if there are any typos, no there aren’t 💕 Also technically this is part of my gingerfucker series, but can be read alone and she doesn’t make an appearance, it’s all Eris and the baby okay byeee
TW: panic attack, mentions of being whipped and being burnt
Word count: ~1k
A trade agreement sat on his desk, one that predates his tenure as high lord. Eris had found the document stuffed away in a drawer, abandoning what he was searching for as soon as he recognized it.
His father’s large, obnoxious signature at the bottom, the ridiculously high tariffs on imported goods. He could hear the whip in his ears, feeling his body tense with memory.
It was all too much. He had spoken with his father about the deal, wanting to give incentives for traders to come into Autumn rather than deterrents. Beron had laughed at him, telling him that everything anyone needs can be found in Autumn.
The night hadn’t ended there.
Beron had whipped him for having such a ridiculous idea in front of the other courtiers.
“No son of mine will appear so idiotic before others,” he had said, his voice ringing in Eris’s ears.
Eris was seated in his chair in his study, but his mind was elsewhere. Down deep, deep in the dungeons of the Forest House, a trek he made many nights, his blood dripping through the house as he limped back to his own chambers.
Chubby hands grip the fabric of his trousers, a body too small traveling up his legs, climbing for what they love most in this world. Little feet find their footing on his thighs, hands leaning against his torso to support their weight.
Amber eyes look at him, searching for praise at the impossible task they just completed.
His eyes.
What his eyes used to look like, before Beron burnt the joy out of them.
Eris is frozen in place, caught in a spiral of hatred and loathing by his son. His beautiful, wonderfully funny son, who looks at him with the love and adoration his mother looks at him with.
If his son knew all that he had done to prevent Beton’s ire, would his eyes still look for Eris in every room? Would his eyes still fill with tears, his lungs exhaling every breath at bedtime, unable to sleep without seeing his father one last time?
The spitting image of him, his mother finding an old portrait of himself at this age, his son a direct image of the portrait. Was this how he looked when Beron began his tirade of cruelty against his family? Did soft coos of a babe turn into wails at any contact with Beron?
All he had ever known was the flame, the flame within himself that refused to be extinguished, and the flames his father tormented him with for centuries.
He feels those flames on his skin, his own flame desperate to fight it. He feels the heat licking up his forearms, he feels it cascading down his back in waves, searching for every inch of unclaimed skin. He clenches his fists, desperate to bring himself back to reality. Instead, his breathing becomes more ragged, his jaw clenching.
He can smell the flesh burning off of him, feel his stomach churning, his throat filling with bile at the smell, so strong he could taste it.
Tiny fingers grip into his hair, yanking lightly, trying to find balance. The feeling jolts him back, back from the past, back from a place that doesn’t exist anymore.
The babe stands in his lap, toes gripping his trousers as he tries to learn how to use them. A warmth so unnatural from something so young radiates off of his son. A tear splashes onto the little foot, which the babe immediately burns off.
Giggles fill the room at his show of his powers and Eris is finally able to move again as he wraps his arms around the young princeling, so unaware of how the world can burn.
He holds him in a tight embrace, squishing his face into the tiny neck, breathing him in. He gives himself five seconds, clutching the clothes covering the babe’s chest.
Five.
He breathes in deeply, his chest heaving with sobs that escape his mouth.
Four.
It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair. It had never been fair. Nothing was fair.
Three.
It took hours to kill Beron, centuries of scheming, and his presence was still felt throughout the court, throughout him-
He feels something cold and wet on his neck, tiny hands still gripping his hair, but his son is slobbering across his neck, his cheek, the movement tickling Eris’s neck. He laughs as he realizes that his son is mimicking how they make him laugh by blowing raspberries into his neck, his cheeks, his stomach.
He delicately pulls the face from his neck, leaning his forehead against his firstborn’s forehead. His eyes are wide with wonder. Everything is new to him and the worst thing he’s experienced is dropping his favorite toy in a mud puddle.
He looks at his father, not sure what to make of him, until Eris slowly smiles at him, his eyes lightening with fondness, catching a bit of the spark from his son’s eyes.
And the baby in his arms smiles back, grabbing Eris’s nose in excitement as he babbles noncoherent sounds. Eris stretches his legs out, sinking into his chair a bit, letting his back relax into the chair. Eris responds to the babbling, occasional hums and responses to whatever he was trying to convey to his father.
Someday, the words would come. They would flow freely, spilling from his mouth in anger, in sadness, in disbelief. They would come more easily, small things setting off his memories and not allowing him to think of anything until they left him. He would share the burden of his memories.
Someday, the words would come. But not today. Today the incoherent babbling was enough.
#eris vanserra#eris vanserra x y/n#eris vanserra x you#eris vanserra x reader#eris vanserra fanfic#acotar fanfiction#eris x y/n#eris x you#eris x reader
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Hello! Can you do jjk men reaction when y/n said their safe word during sex? Only if you're not busy! Thank you! 😘
JJK MEN’S REACTIONS TO YOU USING YOUR SAFE WORD
FEATURED: gojo, geto, toji
WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI. fem reader, afab terms, use of safe word, descriptions of anxiety. please mind individual tws for each scene. proceed with caution and don’t read if it’ll make you feel bad! take care bbs
A/N: my first request i hate it but i hope you love it anon!!! 😊 also sorry i couldn’t do nanami or choso if i’m inspired another time i’ll add em to this LMAO
GOJO SATORU
warnings: reader is blindfolded and bound (wrists), use of safe word, unprotected sex, crying, descriptions of anxiety
you’ve done it a ton but it still makes you nervous.
one sense is kind of a lot to lose when you only have five of them, as a non sorcerer. but the relinquishing of control, entrusting your safety and pleasure and entire body to someone else… it turns you on beyond belief.
so here you are, tonight, blindfold tight over your eyes and hands bound behind your back as satoru fucks you, pace languid, fingers running all over your body.
any other day, it would be just what you needed to relax. any other day you’d be squirming in pleasure, hips bucking wildly against him as your nails claw at your own palms.
but today, for whatever reason, it’s uncomfortable. maybe you’ve had too much caffeine, maybe it’s the stress of his most recent mission, the first one to ever have you worrying your lip all night long thinking, maybe he’s not coming back this time.
his wandering hands feel foreign, the pleasured moans coming from his mouth sounding distant and wrong. your arms tingle from the position you’re in, your sweaty skin itches and you can’t reach to scratch at it.
you furrow your brows.
“satoru…” you whine softly, still unsure of what to ask for.
“mmm?,” he grips your waist, his strokes deep and precise. “my pretty baby looks so good like this. so mine.”
you whine, wriggling in search for comfort. satoru must mistake that for pleasure because he fucks you just a little bit harder, puffing out hot breaths into the crook of your neck.
“kiss me,” you ask, hoping it’ll make it better, but it does nothing to calm you down. with no stimuli but touch, your brain starts to go into overdrive, and you feel tears begin to trickle down your face.
satoru notices, but not in the right way.
“is it that good?” he teases, like he always does, but today it sends a chill down your spine. “i could do anything i wanted to you right now and you wouldn’t even know. wouldn’t be able to stop me.”
that does it for you, a wrecked sob leaving your lips along with your safe word.
satoru stills immediately. you can feel him softening inside you and for some reason that only makes you cry harder.
gently, he reaches behind your head to unhook the blindfold, his worried gaze searching your face for answers.
he lifts your back and unties your wrists, rubbing them to soothe the friction from the ropes.
“baby…” his tone is careful and guilty. “sweetheart, is everything okay? did i do something, what did i do?”
you sniff. the first words that come out of your mouth are, “i’m sorry.”
you’ve never had him so doting, so tense, all that confidence vanishing and it makes you chuckle, this big lanky man handling every limb of yours like they’re made out of snowflakes.
“satoru, i’m okay. i just…” you inhale deeply. “i just got overwhelmed, is all.”
he lays down beside you, visibly unsure about touching you. you grip his hand firmly in yours, offering him a wavering smile.
“i’m okay, i promise. you’re good,” you lean over to peck his lips.
satoru looks regretful, but he relaxes at the gesture, caressing the side of your face softly.
“i love you so much. i’m sorry if i, like, went too far or something—“
“you did nothing wrong,” you assure him. “i think i’m just having a bad day. just wanted to see your face to feel better.”
at that, he smirks. he kisses you slowly, adoringly, unspoken apologies every time your lips touch.
“i am sorry, by the way,” you say. satoru looks back at you with a confused expression on his face. you continue sheepishly, “for having to use the word.”
“huh?” he exclaims, his incredulity so earnest that it rips a hearty laugh from you. “nah, hell no. thank you for saying it, actually.”
“yeah? you’re not upset?”
“of course not. i completely understand,” he traces a line down your body. “not being able to see my handsome face would make anyone cry.”
you slap his hand away playfully and he pulls you into his chest, cuddling you.
you stay like that until you fall asleep, reassured that the most powerful sorcerer in the world is indeed fit to take care of you; heart, body and soul.
GETO SUGURU
warnings: overstim, degradation/humiliation and dirty talk, use of safe word, reader’s discomfort is brief but descriptive
you don’t know how long it’s been.
maybe ten minutes. maybe twenty. maybe ninety.
you don’t know how many times you came.
your entire body is covered in sweat, the top of your thighs and the bottom of your ass soaked in your own arousal.
suguru holds the wand to your clit almost disinterestedly, eyes glazed over and locked on your cunt.
he fucking loves it, making you cum over and over again, thrash against his body, make a mess on his sheets. and you love it just the same.
the undivided attention, the devotion, the seconds right after when the stimulation doesn’t stop and it hurts so bad before it gets mind-numbingly good again.
“hahh,” you breathe out, voice cracking. “i—i’m gonna—“
“oh, you’re gonna?” suguru mocks you. “shocking.”
you moan at his words, his tone. by now, your body barely has any energy left to react. all you can feel is the release of an unbelievable pressure in your core as wetness gushes out of you uncontrollably when you cum.
your puffy clit is throbbing, thoroughly abused, your spread legs quivering in pleasure. you sigh in anticipatory relief at the incoming break suguru is bound to give you after your orgasm.
except this time, the break doesn’t come.
“ahh!” you scream — honest to god yell — as the buzzing continues, suguru pressing the wand down hard on your pussy.
he chuckles, playing with the toy, lifting it up just slightly before bringing it back down on you, over and over again.
“can’t—i can’t, suguru, i can’t cum right now—“
“of course you can, baby,” he says in a sickeningly sweet voice, getting off on your desperation.
usually you’re just as much into it as he is, but this time it’s for real. it’s painful and not in the nice way, you’ve hit your limit but you can hardly talk, can’t do much more than try to wiggle away from your boyfriend’s ministrations.
“how can you say that when you have such a slutty pussy?” he runs his fingers through your slick folds, and every clench of your cunt makes it hurt even more. “so greedy…”
you’re clawing at his hands, but he’s so much stronger than you, his forearms and thighs holding you down, leaving you entirely to his mercy — of which he has none.
“please please fuck please no more—“
it’s something he’s heard you say a thousand times, in a thousand different scenarios, and never truly mean it, which is why you even have a safe word in the first place.
oh right. the safe word.
you pull it out from the depths of your fucked out, mushed up brain and blurt it, digging your heels into the mattress.
it all happens so fast, after that.
suguru all but tosses the wand to the side, switching to lightly stroking your pussy. it makes you jolt; even a gush of air right now could probably make you cry in overstimulation.
“oh fuck, shit,” he removes his hand and you whine. “what do you need baby, what can i do?”
“s-suguru…” you’re still trying to catch your breath, your legs spasming erratically.
“i’m here, i’m here,” suguru starts to move towards you but stops halfway. “do you want me to be here?”
you let out a croaky laugh, opening your arms because you’re too far gone to use words.
hesitantly, he lays his head on your chest. when he feels how fast your heart is beating, his own sinks to his stomach.
“i’m so sorry honey. i thought you were into it.”
you swallow, taking a few beats to regain your composure.
“i was, it was just… a lot, all of a sudden.”
suguru turns his head to look up at you.
“i get it,” he wipes away a stray tear you hadn’t even noticed you’d shed. “i’m sorry. i love you, i'm so sorry—”
“it’s okay,” you offer him a weak smile. “it’s what the word is for, right?”
“right…” he sounds unsure. that makes you frown.
you two lay there for a while, until your breathing has evened out, until your thighs have stopped shaking.
you can practically hear the hear the cogs in his brain turning, certain that his brain chastising himself.
“hey, suguru?” your voice rips him right out of his thoughts.
“hmm?”
“can you promise me something?”
he sits up in attention, instinctively reaching for your hand. “of course.”
“promise me you’re never gonna stop fucking me like that," he gulps, audibly, visibly relaxing. "and i promise to always let you know if i need to stop.”
it takes a beat, but suguru finally loosens up, pressing his smile into your lips over and over again and mumbling all sorts of promises of his own against them.
TOJI FUSHIGURO
warnings: knifeplay, cnc (sort of), roleplaying, pretty graphic descriptions of anxiety and panic, oral (m! receiving)
“what’s a pretty lil’ thing like you doin’ here this late at night?”
you roll your eyes to yourself before putting on your best innocent look to turn around and face the man.
he’s smirking down at you, the streetlight lamps casting dark shadows on his features.
if you were being honest with yourself, you’d never really been interested in roleplaying in your previous relationships. it was always so awkward and you never truly felt any incentive to stick to the script no matter how much the scenario excited you.
until you met toji, that is.
he was always so into it, played his parts convincingly well, which should probably worry you considering he would always opt to play the sleazy delivery guy, the pervy doctor, the horny stranger in a bar.
as for you, acting the part of the ditzy student or the clumsy maid or whatever the fuck toji wanted you to be that particular day… yeah, that was embarrassingly hot too.
tonight, he’s playing creepy guy in a dark alleyway. he’d texted you in advance, a very romantic meet me in that alley between the tracks and the highway. dress slutty.
“i was just looking for the station and got lost…” you mumble, looking up at him through your eyelashes. he pouts in a fake display of pity, twirling something inside his jacket pocket.
“oh, what a coincidence! i was just on my way there. care to accompany me?”
you smile sweetly, linking arms with him.
soon enough, you find yourself being shoved past toji’s apartment door, his pocketknife prodding at the small of your back.
you have to contain your giggles to stay in character, letting him toss you onto his bed. you also have to fight your anger when he slashes through your top, a sleazy smile on his face as he breaks character to say he’ll get you a new one.
he’s so goddamn hard that it should concern you, holding your jaw open while he feeds you his cock.
“god—shit, that’s right, such a slutty little mouth,” you moan around his length, hands resting primly on top of your thighs. “you were just begging for it, weren’t you, slut?”
you bob your head up and down, putting on a fake grimace while squeezing your legs together at the same time.
you hear something click in the distance, the sound barely registering in your brain as you get lost in the scent of him. he’s beginning to push into your throat now, laughing like a maniac when you choke on it.
“c’mon now, open up that throat for me, girl,” you inhale in preparation. but your breath gets caught in your throat when you feel something cold and sharp poke you. “or maybe i’ll just to do it for ya with this.”
toji’s pressing his switchblade to your neck, grazing it delicately up and down.
he’s not going to hurt you. you know that.
the blade is probably too dull to pierce skin even if he tried, but he would never, you know this, you know he won’t.
and yet despite that, your heart is jackhammering in your ribcage, uncontrolled and wild as your eyes widen around tears.
toji takes your inaction as a sign to just start fucking your mouth a little more, but your attention is zeroed in on that pocketknife.
suddenly colors are sharper, like it’s bright as day inside his dimly lit bedroom. a headache begins to bloom and you start choking in earnest now, not because toji’s going too hard but because you can’t coordinate your breaths.
he starts tracing your throat with the blade. “feel me right here sweetheart? fuck.”
you’re clearly struggling but it’s hard to distinguish your real reactions to the character you’re supposed to be playing. that only serves to make you panic even further, hands coming up to push on toji’s thighs.
“hands to yourself, whore,” he grunts, pressing the knife a little too hard, a little too close for comfort, and you hit your breaking point.
you start garbling wildly around his dick, repeating your safe word over and over again until a very confused toji finally makes out what you’re saying.
he rips himself out of your mouth, instantly dropping to his knees and grabbing your chin in his hand.
“oh fuck, did i cut ya sweetheart?” he moves your face from side to side, examining you.
you swallow around the lump in your throat, willing your heart to calm down.
“uh, n-no. just got a bit too real there, for a moment.”
he sighs, partially relieved, reassessing the situation. you’re gulping in air, blowing it out of your mouth in calculated puffs.
toji waits until you're visibly calmer before he gets up.
“wait here,” he orders.
you sit down on the floor, hands wrapped around your knees and mentally repeating to yourself that you’re okay, it wasn’t real, you’re not in danger.
toji returns with a glass of water, sitting down in front of you and waiting until you’ve drank most of it.
“you okay?” he asks.
you take a beat before you can honestly say you are. you nod.
“that knife on your throat was a bit too far, huh, babe?”
“yeah,” you garble out, tracing circles on his knees. “could’ve warned me of that particular detail. asshole.”
he laughs but his body language isn't nearly as carefree.
there’s a long drag of silence before he speaks again.
“i’m sorry, honey. really.”
and toji, as amazing as he can be, is usually way too prideful to admit guilt. so the fact that he apologizes is what finally gets you to fully relax, knowing he does realize the situation you were in and feels bad about it.
“honestly we can stop with all the roleplaying bullshit, it’s getting kinda old anyways. you know i don't need you playing a slut to get you acting like one on my co—“
“toji,” you hiss, and he puts his hands up in mock surrender. “it’s fine. i think i have a better idea, anyway.”
that seems to spark his interest. he rises his eyebrows, prompting you to go on.
“because there’s a few roleplays we haven’t tried yet. and if you genuinely feel so bad—“ he says your name sternly but just you ignore him, “then i know the perfect thing you can do to make it up to me.”
“babe…” he bemoans like a chastised child, with a hint of resignation at what awaits him.
when he sees that you’re beaming he just takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair defeatedly.
“when?” is all he asks.
impossibly, your smile grows even wider.
“i already ordered the costume! and the cat ears should be here next week,” you kiss his forehead, propping yourself on his shoulders to stand up.
you hear him groan in the distance as you skip to the bathroom, turning on the faucet.
he stalks after you almost immediately, wrapping his arms around your waist and honest to god pouting at you in the mirror.
“are ya really going to do this to me now?”
you grin.
“don’t you mean meow, kitty?”
a/n: yayyy my first somewhat wholesome post i am so bad at this but i hope it was readable! bye now!
#gojo smut#geto smut#toji smut#tw safe word#✩.tw safe word#tw kink#✩.gojo#✩.geto#✩.toji#gojo satoru smut#geto suguru smut#toji fushiguro smut#gojo satoru x reader#geto suguru x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#gojo x reader#im so tired of tagging sorry#i mean if u follow me u know i write jjk so#jujutsu kaisen smut#last one for good measure#OH AND#✩.requests#✩.hcs#✩.drabbles
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"party girl"
tara yummy x fem! reader
TW: wlw, use of alcohol, partying, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, drinking, profanity, head (reader rec), pussy grinding, fingering
Request: could you do a tara yummy x fem reader and their at like one of jake's partys.
Rating: mature themes, mdni, please mind the tags.
WC: 1.6k
*also ik tara is straight this is js straight up fanfiction*
"Y/n, hurry uppp!" tara whined, slathering on a layer of lipstick, somehow already dressed and ready to go, while you were still struggling with the dress, attempting to reach the zipper, failing each time. "What's taking you so long?" she called, seemingly growing annoyed at how long you were taking.
"The dress" you responded back, and soon you heard footsteps heading towards you. Tara arrived in your room seconds later, hands sliding over back, making you shiver as you zipped up the skimpy dress you had chosen, and left a light kiss on your neck.
"not now" you whined, even though you just wanted to stay in and cuddle instead of wasting a perfectly good night at a party getting drunk with jake and his friends.
You both made your way to the front door, staring at tara's dress, her curves on display in the best way as you smiled, wrapping your fingers around hers, holding your hand as you walked to the uber you both had paid for beforehand, knowing you were both going to end up blackout drunk and did not trust yourselves enough to drive.
Soon, you arrived at the party, which was in full swing, the sun beginning to set as you stepped through the door, the scents of sweat, cigarettes, alcohol, and even a hint of drugs present in the air, making you wrinkle your nose, wafting through the house as tara went to go get drinks for you both.
You found jake, who was playing beer pong with colby, sam, and johnnie, and you stood by them until tara returned, too nervous to leave the people you actually knew. You were playing with your hands until tara made her way back to you, handing you a red solo cup and pulling on your hand, leading you through the house, most likely to an open couch where you both could relax.
You took a sip of your drink, immediately feeling slight buzzed as tara found an empty couch, pulling you onto her lap. You put your drink on the floor, and she did the same, grasping your hips as she put her red lips onto yours as you gasped, her tongue seeking entrance into your mouth and you tugged at her hair, moaning into the kiss, feeling her lips leave yours and begin to mark your neck, pushing your hair aside.
"f-fuck!" you whimpered, feeling her bite at one of your sensitive spots, sliding her tongue over your skin to soothe the ache. She nipped at your neck some more, leaving dark hickies on your skin, smiling as you were in a daze, already having that fucked out look on your face as she smirked.
She guided you up the stairs of the house, leaving the drinks behind, your hands tightly wound together. You found an unoccupied room, and stepped in, locking the door behind you as she pushed you onto the bed, her eyes speaking volumes as what she wanted to do to you.
Her hand made it's way between your legs, rubbing your clit through your drenched panties, making you gasp and buck your hips up. She pulled her hand away, and you groaned in frustration, angered at the loss of stimulation already.
Before you could even react, she lowered herself to her knees in front of you, her face mere inches from your sex. You gasped as her hot breath caressed your sensitive skin, and then she was there, lips parted, tongue dancing over your clothed clit. Your hands tangled in her hair, urging her on as she began to feast on you, devouring your cunt like it was a meal.
Tara's fingers found their way between your legs, sliding your panties to the side, and then slipping inside, searching for your entrance. She teased you, circling your entrance, dipping inside just enough to make you ache. You moaned, arching your back against her hand, desperate for more.
Her tongue continued its relentless assault on your clit, while her fingers found their rhythm, thrusting in and out of you, fucking you through your underwear. You felt the familiar tightness coiling low in your belly, and you knew you were close. You cried out her name, your body shuddering with the force of the orgasm as it crashed over you.
"Fuck," she growled, pulling away to look up at you. Her eyes were dark and intense, and her lips were swollen from your kisses. "I can't wait to feel you cum on my tongue." She gave you a wicked grin before lowering her head again, slipping your drenched panties out of the way, and pressing her tongue against your entrance.
Tara's tongue probed you, seeking entry, and when she finally found it, she began to thrust, her movements mirroring those of her hand. You cried out, your body arching off the wall as she took you deeper, faster. Your hips bucked against her face, begging for more as she brought you ever closer to the brink.
The taste of yourself on her tongue only served to heighten the experience, and as you felt your orgasm building once again, you knew there was no holding back this time. You wrapped your legs around her head, your nails digging into her shoulders as you surrendered to the sensations washing over you. With a hoarse cry, your body tensed and spasmed, your orgasm crashing through you in waves.
Tara continued to lap at you even as you came down from your high, her tongue swirling around your entrance and circling your clit. You felt the familiar ache beginning to build again, and you couldn't help but moan her name. She looked up at you, her eyes dark with lust, and slowly slid her hands up your thighs, pushing your dress higher.
With her tongue still buried inside you, she reached out and grasped your aching breast, rolling your nipple between her fingers. You arched your back off the mattress, crying out her name as she began to suck on your breast, her tongue alternating between your clit and your nipple.
Her fingers found their way back between your legs, slipping inside you again, wet with your juices. She thrust them in and out, matching the rhythm of her tongue as she continued to pleasure you. You felt your body responding to her touch, your hips beginning to move in time with her. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you lost yourself in the sensations coursing through you.
"That's it," she murmured, her voice low and husky. "Let go, baby." She pressed her lips to your inner thigh, sucking gently as she continued to finger-fuck you. Your orgasm built again, closer and closer, until you were certain you could feel it coiling in your core. With a final thrust, Tara pushed you over the edge, her tongue flicking against your clit as your body tensed and shuddered with release.
You cried out her name, your hands fisting in her hair as the wave of pleasure washed over you. Tara continued to lap at you, her tongue dancing over your sensitive skin, long after your orgasm had faded away. She looked up at you then, her eyes dark and intense, and you could see the desire burning in her.
"Come here," she whispered, reaching out to pull you closer. You obeyed without hesitation, falling into her embrace. She rolled onto her back, taking you with her, and you found yourself straddling her hips. Her hands moved up to cup your breasts, her thumbs circling your nipples as she looked down at you. "Fuck," she breathed. "You're so hot."
With one swift movement, she rolled onto her side, pinning you beneath her. Her leg slid between yours, pressing against your aching center. "Do you want me to make you feel better?" she asked, her voice low and husky. Without waiting for an answer, she began to rock her hips against you, grinding her clothed sex against your slick folds.
The friction was exquisite, sending sparks of desire through you. You moaned her name, arching your back as you continued to ride her thigh. Her breasts pressed against your chest, and you could feel her nipples hardening against your skin. Tara's hands moved up to grip your shoulders, holding you close as she lost herself in the sensation.
Her thigh was slick with your arousal, and you could feel the heat emanating from her core. The rhythm you found together was perfect, and you could feel the tension building in your lower abdomen. "Tara," you gasped, "I'm c-close!."
She groaned in response, her hips thrusting up to meet yours as she picked up the pace. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her face flushed with arousal. You could feel your control slipping away as the pleasure built inside you, threatening to break free.
With one final gasp, you cried out her name, your body tensing and convulsing as your orgasm washed over you in a wave of bliss. Tara's hips bucked beneath you, her grip on your shoulders tightening as she followed you over the edge. Her cries mingled with yours, filling the air as their breaths came in ragged gasps.
The tension between you eased, leaving you both spent and sated. Tara rolled onto her back, pulling you into her embrace. She ran her fingers through your hair, her touch gentle and soothing. "That was hot," she giggled, her breath hot against your neck.
Taglist: @madzandmore @tomscumdump @20doozers
#tara yummy#tara yummy x reader#wlw#fanfiction#jake webber fluff#jake webber x reader#jake webber imagine#jake webber#johnnie guilbert#itsmealaiah
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Omg that kuvira sub req was lit! Could you do one for Zuko please? Maybe after he’s become fire lord?
I decided that instead of writing nsfw, to just make it angst to fluff. Sorry that it's not what you asked for ,but this is what I got.
Genre:Friends with benefits to enemies to lovers ,angst to fluff,
Tw: mentions of trauma, burning and leaving a scar.
Zuko x Fem reader
Ever since you ran away from Zuko to help the avatar restore peace to the world,you kept thinking that he would let go of you.
But no, you can't catch a damn break, since you ran away he's been chasing you. He swore to find you.
How? You have no clue. But you never doubted his devotion for this cause,you knew that Zuko had that burning will in him.
I mean,you were his soldier,and things between you two were...complicated.
Sometimes you would have heart to heart conversations. Maybe about your life,or what you would be in the future, and other times it was just making out after a stressful day. But you never did more than that,he wanted you ,and you wanted him but there was always something holding you back.
Now this is something that fuels Zuko, his need for revenge is powered by those moments between you two. And not only that,but if he finds you he also finds the Avatar. Which is the perfect reason for him.
You get to be punished for treason,and at the same time he would finally have his honor restored. That's what he says to himself at night. It's not like he wants more.
So for months, almost a year he searched for The avatar,and for you,each time you managed to slip right trough his fingers.
The last time he saw you was at the northern water tribe,when he tried capturing Aang you fought Zuko while Katara protected the younger boy. Zuko knew he could do so much damage to you,but he simply couldn't.
You unfortunately lost,after all Zuko was stronger than you. You both knew it,but it never stopped you before.
You tried talking to him,you always thought that if you got a chance you would be able to at least get him to think of another way,a better way. Maybe this way things wouldn't be so complicated between you two.
But no matter how much you tried,he was just too stubborn.
You tried putting a fight again,he was so angry that he didn't even realize with what force he sent that fire at you,not even throwing you a second glance.
Too blinded by anger,now that you weren't in his way anymore he went for Aang.
If you wouldn't have blacked out you would've saw the way Katara fought the prince,after all he harmed you, and wanted to take Aang away.
You woke up on Appa,Katara was tending to your burn mark, trying to completely heal it.
"I'm sorry (Name),but it's going to leave a pretty big scar here." Her hand would lay on your shoulder comforting.
It was rough looking in the mirror,but you started getting used to it. The bad part was when you started having nightmares of your fight with the prince,the burning feeling awaking you in cold sweat.
You healed with time, fortunately for you,the prince and you didn't meet again after that. You split from the team,it was necessary for you to find a way to heal the scar that Zuko left in your mind.
Imagine the shock on your face when you finally got reunited with your friends.To see Zuko there was something you never expected. Deep inside you knew he could change but never actually thought he would.
He would be so awkward, and yeah he would talk to himself, trying to find the right way to apologize to you for hunting you down and kicking your ass. It was also this little thing, he never realized how much you affected him when you were around until you left,and it drove him mad. Never quite understanding why.
He kept his distance from you, mostly because he didn't really know how to approach you. It's not that he's as mad as he was before when you betrayed him, but it's still awkward.
So you two just stayed away from each other. The group could see something was up with you two,I mean they knew about your scar and journey ,but Zuko didn't.
Nobody told him about the scar he left on you back then, and you never confronted him about it.
One night when you wanted to take your mind away from all that's happening ,you found yourself in the lake near your camp.
A swim would do you good.
Unfortunately for you ,that's what the young prince also had in mind.
He was left speechless once he saw your naked form in the water. A certain part of you got his attention,your back.
There was this big part of your shoulder all the way to your waist that was just burned.
And then it clicked, when he fought you in the north water tribe,he did this.
"Stop staring." You speak,loud enough for him to hear you, getting deeper into the water so your back would no longer be visible to his longing stare.
"I wasn't staring." He turns his head away embarrassed,his face hot just thinking that you caught him staring at your form. He acted like a pervert. How could he be so stupid?
Zuko quickly took off, not allowing you to say anything else.
He spent the night thinking,about you ,your scar your body. It annoyed him so much that all he could think was you.
So he left the next day with Sokka, on a mission to free Sokka and katara's dad from a high security prison. Totally no big deal.
Each day he spent there he hoped he could get you off his mind,but no matter how hard he tried you were just stuck on him.
Let's just say that he had some pretty unusual taughts while he was locked away.
After he saw Sokka with Suki he got this weird feeling, it was some inside him pushing him to be this way,with you.
So there he was,back at the camp with a complete mission, trying to find a way to speak to you. And he couldn't really bring up the last time he saw you, 'Yeah I saw you naked and I stared at you, wanna date?' no way in hell, unless he wants to be seen as the biggest creep ever.
"Mind if I sit?" Zuko's eyes dart up at you,he didn't even hear you coming her.
"No one's stoping you." You sit down next to him, noticing how he quickly looks away.
"It's been a while huh?" Your eyes look up at the dark starry sky, hoping he's willing to talk to you.
Zuko furrows his brows, searching for the right words to say. He never had to think so hard while talking to you,why is it so hard now?
"I won't bite if you say something." You nudge him with your elbow, sending his thoughts away for now.
"Listen,I'm really sorry for what I did to you back in the north,I was just so blinded by my desire for honor that I was willing to cut trough-" your lips stop Zuko from saying another word, already hearing what you wanted.
He's sorry for hurting you,and he admitted that he was blindly chasing something useless,and that's all you wanted to hear from him.
He whidens his eyes for a second,finally realizing what's happening he cups your cheek with one hand and closes his eyes, kissing you back.
You break the kiss, looking at his face for any sign of reluctance. But all you can see in his eyes is this soft look,it's really cute.
"You have no idea how much I wanted to hear that from you." You whisper, afraid that if you would speak any louder you would break this comfortable feeling around you.
He smiles, closing his eyes. All this time he thought so much , wondering how your next interaction would go,or what would you say to him.
He missed the kisses,soft ones were his favorite,but the making out had a tool on him too.
"I missed this." He speaks,hand trailing down your lip, carefully touching it.
"I never thought you'd forgive me." Zuko allows his head to meet with yours gently stroking your cheek.
"Thank you for becoming a better version of yourself."you smile, placing your hands on his wrist in a gentle manner.
"Okay what's going on here?" Sokka looks at the two of you like he witnessed a war crime. Did he drink cactus juice without realizing??
I couldn't do it.
I couldn't write Zuko smut yet ,I'm sorry 😭
#atla x reader#avatar#avatar the last airbender#atla#x reader#fem reader#zuko x reader#prince zuko#zuko atla#atla zuko#zuko x fem reader#sokka#aang#katara#toph#reader#fan fiction#reader x character
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hi,can you do yn who sleeps with no pants pt3 with kenma and suna please?
sleeping with no pants on | fem!reader x haikyuu!!
a/n: i finally got my new laptop today so it's back to writing ^^
tw: language, NSWF, kenma's is a lil more than that lol (why? idk)
pt. 1 pt. 2
kenma kozume
you liked to sit and watch while kenma gamed, smiling as you heard the curses he said under his breath at a loss, or the smirk at a triumphant win.
you laughed to yourself as you sat this time at 3am, recalling how kenma used to wake up early just to play his video games when he was younger. now that he was older, he had the luxury of playing as late as he wanted.
the two of you hadn't been dating for very long, still very much in the kiss-hand-holding phase, so you balked in surprise when kenma suddenly said, "hey, are you sleeping here tonight?" while his eyes were still glued to his screen.
you choked on your words. this was a big step for you, but not one you didn't want to take. you were just surprised at how causally he had brought the whole topic up. it seemed to shock you too evidently because he then added, "you don't have to though."
you shook your head, "no, no, I want to. it's getting late, ken. lets get to bed."
normally, kenma would fight tooth and nail to get even one more hour of gaming time like you were his mother, but he also knew it was out of concern that you often asked him to finish for the night. however, this time, kenma felt no need to continue pressing the buttons in rhythm with his console.
you decided then and there that you would take the leap, and change in front of him.
slowly, you lifted up your shirt. the rustling of fabric caused kenma to turn around in time to see your breasts bounce free from your bra. he whipped his head back in time for you not to see, his ears beet red.
"kenma?" you said quietly.
"..hmm?"
"I-uh--well. so, when I sleep, I can't sleep when I have pants on..."
kenma swallowed. "no problem."
in all honesty, kenma didn't wear them either. he wore clothes for comfort, not for style, and the same was for sleeping. being able to be free from the confines of clothing was one of his favorite reasons for finally turning to going back to sleep.
when you pulled down your shorts, exposing your panties, his eyes pooled with a dark gold. still, he pushed the thoughts away and instead decided it was time for him to head in too.
after removing his sweatpants after turning off the light, he heard a little gasp as he slipped into the covers.
kenma's bare leg had rubbed against your own. he wasn't wearing pants either? you could scarcely hold yourself together as you searched for things to think about other than the fact that your boyfriend was lying down next to you, pant-less.
that morning you awoke in kenma's arms, the warm feeling of his chest against your back. <3
suna rintarou
you and suna ended up sleeping at each other's houses for the night several on several occasions. after watching movie with your best friend since middle school, it was pretty much a given that you didn't care much what the other did. still, you hadn't really reached the gap where you could step in and possibly admit your feelings for him.
so, whenever he spent the night or vice versa, you would slide into the bed you both agreed to share (because who really cares?) with your complete pajama set on. you figured you would be going too far if you decided to be comfortable and take off your little shorts.
this, of course, made it difficult for you to sleep. you moved around in an effort to get more comfortable, but all that did was rearrange your shorts so they were almost reversed - front in the back, back in the front. you sighed.
"why do you keep rolling around like a burrito?"
"that makes no sense." you said.
"burritos are rolled." he said in the obnoxiously snarky way he speaks when he thinks something is obvious.
"why are you awake arguing with me about burritos?" you muttered.
"because you woke me up."m
"it's just hard for me to fall asleep right now. it's too.. hot in here."
"liar. the a/c is on full blast." he said.
you sighed again, "well I'm just uncomfortable, ok?"
he sat up a little, resting his head on the palm of his hand, his head turned to you.
"why?"
"it's really stupid and embarrassing."
"everything about you is stupid and embarrassing." he smirked.
he was rewarded with a flick on his forehead. "shut up, rin."
his stare urged you to speak once more.
"well," you began, "I can't sleep if my pants or shorts are on."
he was quiet for a moment before his voice came out in a rasp, "well then don't wear any."
you looked his way, noticing his eyes glowing in the moonlight creeping through the blinds.
"but we're...friends."
he swallowed thickly. "doesn't mean you can't take your shorts off--" he cut himself off. "it doesn't mean you can't be comfortable. there's covers anyway."
you stared at him in apprehension before bringing your hands to your hips below the covers. slowly, you pulled them down, only the sound of the sheets and fabrics ruffling.
suna sounded a bit like he was getting hot too because he was panting a bit when you turned to him. you looked at him with a questioning expression.
"sorry.." he muttered, "kinda hard to breathe in here with the air quality and stuff."
you were well aware the windows were closed and that was probably bullshit, but you decided not to press further.
"well, anyway. thanks. goodnight." you smiled meekly, turning to your side.
what you weren't aware of was that suna wasn't able to sleep a wink that night, much less when you shoved off the covers while sleeping (I guess you were actually a little bit hot). suna was suffering, truly, as he tried not to stare at the bottom half of you - only panties covering you.
the morning couldn't come soon enough for him.
#haikyu x reader#haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu x you#haikyuu suna#suna x reader#suna headcanons#suna rintaro fluff#suna rintaro x y/n#suna rintaro oneshot#suna rintaro smut#suna rintarou#hq x you#hq fluff#kenma x reader#kenma kozume x reader#haikyuu kenma#kenma scenario#kenma x you#kenma headcanons#kenma kuzome
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Stress is a silent killer
Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Don’t get me wrong, mothers are strong motherfuckers. But that doesn’t mean you can abuse an expecting mother’s abilities. • ANGST/SFW • TW: Pregnancy / Pre-Term Labor Anxieties / Anxiety
Requested by: Anon
Daryl silently returns his home he shares with Y/N who was currently seated in the living room wide awake. She was decked out to go outside the walls and search for him after the news but thankfully he came back in time before she risked herself at the hour it was.
“I’m sorry”
Y/N didn’t say anything, all she did was let the tears that build up roll off her cheeks.
“I’m sorry I walked away when yea first told me” His voice broke as he brought himself to kneel in front of her resting his hands on her thighs watching her tearful expression meet his gaze.
“I’m scared, Dar…”
“I know, me too. Cuz I want this. I want this with yea and I’m afraid of losing you…like Lori…or like…the others. I can’t lose yea to anythin’ or anyone.”
“You can’t…you can’t walk out like the way you did” She choked out through her sobbing as Daryl brought his hands onto her cheeks wiping away them while they fell. “Please…if you do that again, I’m only going to think the worse possible things”
“I’m stayin’ right here, sunshine. I’m never leaving again.” Daryl pushed himself forward and wrapping his arms around her as she did the same gripping onto his vest. “I’m never leaving you and this baby, I promise”
~
7 1/2 months later…
Another cold spring morning comes through causing the somewhat irritable not-a-morning person Y/N to bring herself to sit up the best she could given her “natural” circumference was different compared to the first and second trimester.
“Did you leave the window open?” She tiredly asks her husband who had sat up when she did, given the closer they get to 9 months the more he’ll be up and at it for anything.
“It was stuffy last night, yea asked me too” Daryl yawns stretching out his back hearing his partner hiss when she heard the occasional stretch out crack. “I’m good”
“Working on the wall repair does you no good…and I think I just forgot I asked you to open it” Y/N frowns bringing herself to the edge of the bed causing Daryl to get up in his shirtless glory about to close the window. “What are you doing?”
“I told yea you don’t have to get up and close it”
“I gotta get up and pee cuz a certain someone is stepping on my bladder.”
“So is that a no on me closing it for yea, love?”
“Can you please close it and help me stand up?” Y/N gave him a tired smile as he did exactly what was asked and while Daryl helped her up she couldn’t help but grab his face to bring him to her level to kiss him before separating to do what she needed.
“Are you sure you don’t need me or want me this morning? Rick completely understands why I can stay here” Daryl started to remind Y/N about the run he was asked to go on that involved stopping at the Hilltop to drop off supplies and go pick up more from the Kingdom.
“You pawned it off to somebody for the past two weeks. I’m not going to go into labor the second you leave. I’m not 8 months yet”
“Pre-term shit. You were put on bedrest during the second tri—whatever it’s called because your stress wasn’t helpin’” Daryl states slipping off his sweats to put jeans on when Y/N stepped out of the bathroom. “It’s easy for yea to stress out and back in the prison you passed out once cuz of it. Now you’re pregnant and Siddiq said it could cause more harm than good”
“Are you trying to stress me out now?”
“No, I’m just telling—-“
“It’s only for half the day. Both Maggie and Ezekiel know who you have to come back home to, they won’t hold you up and we also know Carol will shut Ezekiel up if he does start another endless conversation with you. You’ll be back before nightfall and I’ll be here waiting for my husband to come back”
The archer only gave her a worried expression because of how calm she was being, since a month ago she’d scream at him for just leaving the house. He brought himself over kissing her lovingly and holding her for as long as she let him, which could be hours and he’ll not be able to go anymore. But Y/N knew this trick.
“You seriously walking me out to make sure I actually go?” Daryl smiles walking his bike with his pregnant wife on the other side of such still wearing her sweats and one of his shirts.
“Did you forget about the morning and evening walks we do?”
“Nah I did not. Which reminds me to tell yea to wait for me for the night one. Take it easy walking back home and stay away from the new infusions”
Y/N whistled for Daryl to stop given she can’t maneuver fast enough to grab his arm. “Stay away from the new infusions?”
“Rick let in more ex-saviors to help around here. They are staying in the apartment looking houses” Daryl parked his bike a moment bringing himself to rest his hands on her belly. “Two of them are annoying shit stains of humanity. I don’t know the other one’s name but one of’em is Bryan and they’d much rather pawn their work off to somebody else”
“Daryl. I doubt they’d make a pregnant woman do shit”
“Well. I told Aaron to check on yea if he sees you doing anything sketchy”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. Rick is at Oceanside, Michonne is watching a sick Judith, and the others are working on the bridge repair. You won’t let me stay to make sure you don’t over exert yourself. Somebody’s gotta check on yea and since he’s takin’ care of a baby girl at the moment? He’s more than happy to check up on you when Gracie is napping”
“You really have everything planned. Even have a radio?” Y/N smiles crossing her arms as he took out said device to show her resulting in a playful eye roll. “I’ll do my best, my love. But I’ve never seen those individuals before…you can’t blame me if something happened”
“Yeah, but I sure as hell can kill a man if he harms my wife and baby” Daryl states, sneaking in a kiss before getting his bike back up and heading toward the gates.
“I promise nothing will happen, Dar”
What was meant to be an easy day, turned into a weird one.
When the gates closed, Y/N held her belly for a moment feeling the shifting baby inside her make it a bit difficult to go immediately back to her home. She decided to take a longer walk around Alexandria, stopping occasionally to talk to her friends and see what they were up to improve their community. Then on her way back there were two Alexandrians carrying a few boxes to the pantry and infirmary. Both looked at her with curious expressions…
“Yo!”
Y/N ignored it at first until she flinched to the sound of the box dropping beside her.
“You’re Y/N right? The other Dixon in this place”
“Yes…? And you are?” She frowns, not liking the feeling the atmosphere gave when the individual didn’t share his name right away.
“I’m new here. Do you mind helping us with something?”
“Uhm I’m not exactly supposed to be…lifting anything heavy” Y/N gestures a bit on the obvious side about her pregnant belly as they both still gave stone cold stares.
“We’ll carry it to the pantry and infirmary. Just could use somebody to put it away while we bring the rest”
“Is Siddiq not her—-“
“Seriously, Dixon. You’re just pregnant not incompetent” one of them stated only for Y/N’s expression to go south as she supported her belly telling them that she’ll meet them in the pantry first to unload the boxes.
Once she stepped far enough, one of them couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips.
“Cant believe that worked”
“Can it Bryan. We still gotta bring the boxes over then we can go fuck off for the rest of the day” The other scoffs picking up and the box carrying it to where it needed to be.
It had been a couple hours of putting supplies away in their perspective areas, thankfully Y/N has worked with Siddiq before so she knows where he likes everything to be. The doctor just didn’t expect to come back from checking on the little ones of Alexandria after lunch time to find Y/N standing on a stool putting away spare gauze in a tub that Siddiq put them in.
“Are you crazy?” Siddiq frowns watching Y/N stumble a bit unexpected as he quickly drop his medical bag to help his friend off the stool. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you in here?”
“Because I have to be useful!”
“Y/N what the hell do you mean?!” Siddiq frowns watching the discomfort grow on her face along with the tears forming. “Okay, come on. Sit down and tell me what happened” he made her sit on the gurney sitting with her.
“My husband—-“
“Did Daryl get hurt?!”
“No! He warned me about some slackers and I just. I didn’t think I was this stupid enough to fall for their shit” Y/N frowns wiping away her tears before wincing and holding her belly instantly. Siddiq pulled away to get the portable machine helping her lay down onto the gurney adjusting it for her to sit up. “It was just one damn conversation and I felt like I was being useless. We won that stupid fucking war. Lost a lot of people. Then this happened and it’s the best thing but all my hormones are all over the place—-“
“And that’s normal! It’s normal for hormones to take over control with all your other emotions.” Siddiq carefully rolled her shirt up to apply a bit of the gel and gently place the wand to check on the heartbeat. “Can you tell me your pain level? And I’m talking from the moment you’ve felt uncomfortable”
“A six…”
“Are you lying?” Siddiq stated watching the tears build up more. “Y/N how long have you been working today?”
“About an hour after Daryl left”
The look on Siddiq’s face only grew even more worried for his friend as he cleaned her up and before she even tried to get up, he carefully helped her back down grabbing a blanket to cover her.
“Siddiq—-“
“You’re having contractions and I don’t want you to force this baby out from your stress because it’s too early and while I think we can…handle that intense situation…I don’t want you to lose this baby if it goes south.” Siddiq frowns covering her more in the blanket and putting the gurney in the trendelenburg position to have gravity help slow the contractions. Before he pulled away to grab a few things that will help, Y/N grabbed his arm. “You stay here and I’ll get someone to radio Daryl to come back a bit early”
“You think he’ll…uh…y-you think he’ll be mad at me?” Her voice broke as Siddiq took her hand into both of his shaking his head.
“No. But when he finds out about who made you overwork, they aren’t going to see the next day”
By the time Siddiq got Daryl on the line, he was already making his way back to Alexandria and when he heard about his wife he was speeding even faster. Daryl parked in front of the infirmary, dropping his bike without another thought as he enters the building bringing himself to her side resting his hand on her belly.
“How are yea feeling?”
“I’m sorry—-“
“Love, please—-“
“I’m really sorry” Y/N broke down in a sob making her husband out of instinct gently wipe away her tears. “I’m really sorry I didn’t take it easy—“
“Y/N. I’m serious when I say this. You don’t have to apologize.” Daryl frowns rubbing circles on her belly watching her bring her hand over his. “Did Siddiq tell yea how long you’d have to be—-“
“She can go back down.” Siddiq interrupts the two coming down from his flat above the infirmary with a filled canteen for Y/N. “You can take her back to your home to be more comfortable in her bed but again, bed rest—-“
“Fuck” Y/N sobbed hating it already and she’s not in her own bed.
“Just for a week until your stress levels and blood pressure go down. Thankfully trendelenburg worked with the contractions but don’t want you, again, to overwork yourself” Siddiq set the canteen down to help Daryl get Y/N on her feet before giving her the filled bottle. “Don’t let her leave the house, then maybe nobody would abuse your hormones” he stated letting them be to finish what Y/N started before he made her rest.
After getting Y/N back home and in their bed, Daryl stuck by her side thinking of the words Siddiq had said before they left. But he wasn’t going to address it when she was still experiencing a bit of discomfort.
“You want another pillow?”
“Then what are you going to sleep on?”
“A mattress? I don’t need a pillow, just need my woman comfortable while she’s a human incubator” He jokes getting a short lived laugh out of her as he moves the extra blankets and his pillows to support her back and belly. When she first started getting uncomfortable, he tried looking for one of those pregnancy pillows that Carol had told him about but it was a lot of work and he didn’t want to leave her at all. Like he promised and is semi-regretting given he left to take care of business and some assholes were pushing her limits with emotional abuse.
“Daryl…?” Y/N tiredly calls out for him as he returns with her canteen filled for a fourth time since being home as he brought himself to sit on the edge of the bed setting her bottle on the nightstand.
“Yes, sunshine?”
“You still love me right…?” Y/N pouted only for Daryl to scoff at such a ridiculous question, leaning over to shower her in kisses making her bring her arms around his neck to keep him close for the moment. “Dar…”
“I’ll always love you. Even when yea risk yourself. But, imma stick by yea for the rest of this.” Daryl states. “No more tellin’ me I gotta go cuz I promised somebody. Someone else will get the work done, doesn’t have to be me and definitely doesn’t have to be you”
“Can you hold me tonight?”
“As long as you don’t kick me out of the bed when it got too hot” he laughs softly, bringing his lips to hers for a few short soft kisses before pulling away to get into comfortable clothing to sleep in and hold her.
The second Y/N fell asleep and was in deep enough sleep for the archer to slip away to check on a familiar hiding spot in Alexandria. Said hiding spot would have those who didn’t want others to notice they were smoking. Knowing damn well he’ll find the right men that have been bothering his partner.
“Ayo the other Dixon has retur—-“ Bryan immediately shut up when Daryl grabbed him by the collar forcing him against the walls of the community.
“You talk to my wife today? Mess with her and had your buddy over here help?”
“Dude I have no idea—-“
“Don’t lie. Don’t even try, or I will fucking end you right here and now” Daryl hissed shoving him harshly against the wall letting go of his shirt. He quickly turned to his buddy who put out his cigarette before holding his hands up defensively. “If I see you and or this son of a bitch near my wife or even hear about it, I’ll feed you both to the walkers after I’ve knocked the living shit out of you both. And don’t yea worry…I’ve got friends to let me know if yea fuck with the love of my life and soon to be mother of my child” and with that he took his leave letting the two regret their decisions and contemplate being moved to a different community to avoid the harsher Dixon. But even then, he’d tear them apart anywhere.
Y/N shifted slightly when the bed moved behind her, she relaxed instantly feeling her husband bring his arm around her pulling her into him.
“Where’d you go?”
“Got yea more water, and heard somethin’ outside”
“Another possum?”
“A pest that’s for sure”
“Mmm…” Y/N snuggles into his embrace getting comfortable as Daryl kissed her temple. “Nothing you can’t handle right?”
Right.
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We're on this together. (Chapter I)
Bradley Bradshaw × Fem!Wife!Reader
Summary: Nobody warned you for how hard it is to become a mother,same for Bradley.
TW: infertility,mentions of miscarrige,mentions of hospital,mentions of getting pregnant,mentiones of ivf. Mostly angst.
Tears were streaming down your face,your hands were trembling. Searching for Bradley's number in your contact list has never been this difficult.
Your fingers slid across parts of the screen you didn't want to touch, making your frustration even worse.
The phone line rang at a deafening volume. Once, twice, three times until it goes to voicemail.
His stupid voicemail.
"Hi,its me Bradley. Please drop your message!"
Taking this as a sign, you chose not to try again.
After all, talking to Bradley about it right now would only make him worry for nothing, considering he was busy on deployment and miles away from you. He was about to return this week.
It wasn't something he could solve. Maybe it was but not right now.
Within a few minutes your phone rang. As his name popped up on the screen, a heart emoji next to it and his photo of him grinning stupidly, you felt terrible for doing this to him.
Not only did you let down your own dreams, you were about to let down his too.
You replied, remaining silent. You expected your voice to sound like a lump in your throat.
"Baby, are you there? I couldn't get to the phone in time at first."
You were motionless, your lack of words showed him that. "I'm fine", giving yourself some time, you suddenly started to feel everything you didn't feel until you got home.
"I was at the doctor's today."
"Why are you talking like it's the end of the world? Are you okay?"
Throughout his breathing, it was easy to imagine him even stopping whatever he was doing to pay better attention to you; Not because it wasn't there before. You should have called Penny or someone, they would know how to take care of you.
"Wait, is it about babies? Tell me you're joking," he finished with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You could imagine and hear it perfectly.
In the past, when you received good news, you would pretend that something bad was coming, now it's just another thing you regret doing.
You were selfish for talking to him, he was so far away; You could talk to him about it when he got home.
Talking and doing this and that now would cause him more anxiety than he ever had in his hectic daily tour life. Still, he was the only one you needed.
"No, quite the opposite."
The call suffered a long pause, filled with his deep sighs and persistent tears streaming down his cheeks.
You didn't let a single tear fall until you got home, but did you verbalize it? Putting it into words made things different; it felt more real.
"Fuck," he mumbled, clearly a little out of place.
“I can't have kids, Bradley,” your words were interrupted by the growl you were trying to hold back.
He could tell when you were talking to him that everything hit you at once. Over the years, he was able to recognize even small details.
''I'm the reason we tried and it never worked. I cursed it."
"No, baby," he took a deep breath. "Please don't blame yourself. You know it's not your fault." You ran your fingers desperately through your hair; This is what it must be like to feel useless on the phone. Just what you imagined before you made the call. It was bad to announce this to him. "Are you alone? I can ask someone to check on you. They’ll do that, okay?
“Please,” You didn't want to spend the rest of the day by yourself. Also, even though you didn't want to talk to anyone but Bradley, you knew Penny would understand you better, she knew how to make you feel less bad, it would be nice to be around her. And once she mentioned she went through something like that so maybe she would understand you.
Being alone with your harsh thoughts will not be a good option anyway. "I thought about calling her, but I finally gave up, I didn't know what to do, I still don't. Calling you still doesn't seem like a good idea, but I didn't know what to do."
Your weak voice was killing Bradley. If it made him sad to hear that, he couldn't imagine what it was like for you.
"You did great, baby, this is a tough situation but we're on this journey together. You can ask for anything baby, remember?" He smiled, a muffled smile came over the line; It made you feel a little better.
"We can still have children, you know that."
You wanted to tell him that what works for others may not work for you, that your condition may not be that malleable because your condition is genetic. Still, you didn't know if they were true or not, all your thoughts might just be the result of your momentary frustration, but they might also be true.
You need to talk to Bradley about this, everything that's going on in his mind. You didn't want to do this over the phone anymore.
“We can try,” you sniffled, still avoiding the tears you didn't even know were falling. "We can try." You repeated, trying to convince yourself.
"Talk to me, baby. Try to distract yourself a bit, huh? Please. Do you want me to turn the call off? Maybe you can take a long bath with your favorite bubbles or eat something different. That might help."
Even though it sounded wrong, his desperation to help you was adorable. Talking to him made everything perfect, his voice was soothing, you could hear him talking for hours. Now it was no different.
“I just want to hear your voice,” you said, lying on the cold floor of the main room. It would be nice to sleep. It seemed reasonable to forget the previous hours for a few minutes. "You are busy?"
"Not exactly."
"Then tell me how the mission went."
His voice sounded flatter and softer, you could imagine how uneasy he was even from the phone, it was possible to imagine him striding around the room with the phone in his hand. He talked about the mission details the night before. The contrast of how you described your previous day with what happened at the right moment was painful, happy and suddenly you were breaking it.
Everyone knew that Bradley dreamed of having kids, that kids were running around the house and so were you, you wanted to have kids with him even more but with you he would never have one.
"Can I say something?" You asked, taking a deep breath,cutting through his words. "I love you,I love you so much."
Everything was unfair, you both tried so hard. He, too, had become weak from trying, just like you.
"I love you too, baby. This," you could see him in your mind, pausing and gesturing with his hands, "this won't change anything,okay? I still love you so much as the day i fell in love with you."
"We are on this journey together."
"We are on this journey together.”
—-----
Your body trembled.
A cold hand was wandering around your waist as you slowly opened your eyes, feeling a ridiculous headache fill your vision. Your eyes found Bradley crouched on the ground in front of you, and he looked good compared to you. His eye bags were not purple from the 4 hour sleep he was getting,or his hair wasn't messy after the cold,rainy and windy weather out there.
"What are you doing here?" You frowned. Bradley chuckled as you laid your head down once the headache made you feel like you were going to throw up. He could answer your question but you were flattered, he wouldn't think you noticed he was there because he knew you needed him.
So he ignored it, helping you get up.
"Come on, get up. It's cold on the floor, I'll put you to bed." He tried to get you to stand up for him - he failed; but you shifted your weight onto his body, wrapping your arms around his neck, which he found worriedly cute.
“I need you,” you whispered, drunk and sleepy, burying your face in his coat. Let its scent warm you. He smelled amazing.
It was a relief to hear him say that. He didn't want to get into an argument about how it would affect his job in the near future, as you had fought before for the same reason. "I know my baby." He kissed your hair, hugged your waist, and carried you to your room. “She wants to lay down with me.”
He laid you down on the bed, doing the same as he lay on your side, face up and facing the white ceiling.
They both knew it was necessary to speak, but neither knew who should speak first or what they should speak about.
You ran your fingers over his stomach, placing your palm under his shirt, warming his cold hand with your body. You moved closer to his body, nestling into his side as he wrapped his arm around you.
"Tell me, what's on your mind?" He said without looking directly at you.
"There's a lot", your mere words made his throat dry. “It's weird knowing your body can't do what it's supposed to do, especially when you want it to,” you gasped through sobs, his grip pulling you closer to his chest for comfort. "I'm afraid you'll stay with me and a few years from now you'll realize you made the wrong choice." These words hurt him. It hurt him so much to see you blaming yourself.
He hugged you even tighter and asked you to look at him. "I'm not going to leave you, okay? I'm in love with you. That won't change, and it's not your fault. We can try IVF as if it will work, and it's worked for a few people, and we'll have a happy and healthy baby. We have the money for it. If the money I make as a pilot isn't enough, i can even find a part-time job. I can enter just for you, I'm married to you and I love you so much, why should I leave you?"
There were tears in your eyes and you hoped he was right. "What if it doesn't work? If my body miscarries? If we try and never succeed? I don't know if I'm ready to try again-"
Before you finished your sentence, he grabbed your cheek and gave you a messy kiss. He was far from okay, he was desperate, you didn't know how to decipher whether he was trying to silence you or show his emotions. The salty taste of your tears accompanied by the burning in his throat didn't help at all.
You put your hand on his chest and stop him. He was in distress, he probably wanted to stop you with a waterfall of negative thoughts but he didn't know how.
“I don't want to try, I just don't know what to do yet, and it's killing me right now.” You were complaining.
He kissed your forehead and let you lie down.
"We will find a way. It's still new, we can think better or find other ways. Adoption is also a good option, but of course if everything happens at the right time."
You stayed silent for a while, imagining a parallel where Bradley was right and things worked out. Although you were still not convinced by this, you agreed with him. After all, there would be no other way, and you still wanted to have children.
“Adoption sounds good,” you mumbled against his chest. You hadn't thought about it yet, it hadn't even crossed your mind. “There is no risk and there is no way we can go wrong.”
You felt relieved that he was there for you, guiding you to feel better about this.
"You see?" he asked with what looked like a weak smile. "We'll find a way because I don't plan on having kids with anyone but you, so it has to be with you. Whether you like it or not." He joked, drawing a smile from you as he touched your nose with a wet kiss.
It was incredible how he managed to make even the most difficult moments seem lighter.
"Good, because I still want to have your stupid kids.”
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