There's a certain, delicious irony in the fact that sleep, for someone like me, is rarely a peaceful refuge. It's more of a waiting state, an often tedious interlude between the moments that truly matter. And on that night, the interlude was rudely, but I must admit, spectacularly interrupted. The soft creak of the door. To an ordinary human, it might have just been the night wind playing with the old hinges of Fairy Hills. For me, with these half-breed ears that are as much a blessing for espionage as they are a curse on noisy market mornings, it was a clear declaration of intent.
My ears twitched, catching the subtle rustle of fabric before the definitive and somewhat dramatic click of the door closing. Who the devil…? At Fairy Hills, at two in the morning, the options were limited: a burglar with dreadful timing and an imminent death wish, a sleepwalking Natsu on a misguided and likely destructive quest for the wrong fridge, or…
Before my brain, still wrapped in the lazy fog of sleep, could fully process the short list of suspects, I felt the weight. A warm, soft, and unmistakably *her* weight settling onto my lap, pressing against me through the thin and perhaps slightly inadequate cotton sheets.
"Erza?" I murmured, my voice still thick and scratchy from sleep, a vulnerability I rarely displayed. But I already knew, with every fibre of my being. Her scent hit me first, an invasion of my senses that was at once as familiar as the air I breathe and as overwhelming as a tempest. Strawberries, yes, but with that extra touch of sweetness, like the cake we had made and eaten hours before.
My eyes finally adjusted to the dimness of my room, and there she was. Perched on my hips like a Valkyrie who'd decided to skip dinner and go straight for dessert—me, in this case. Her scarlet hair, a cascade of liquid fire under the silver and complicit moonlight. The purple nightdress she wore was a masterpiece of textile engineering, clinging to every curve of her body in a way that surely violated some fundamental law of physics and human decency.
The lace trim at the hem, a cruel, provocative, and entirely intentional detail. My breath caught in my throat. (What the devil is she doing here? And why is my first and only thought not about the flagrant breach of dormitory rules, but about how that lace would look infinitely better decorating my bedroom floor?)
Her face was flushed, her chest rising and falling with short, eager breaths. There was a fierce determination in her eyes that I knew well from the battlefield, but to see it directed at me, here, in *my* bed… it was an entirely new, dangerous, and incredibly exciting territory. She didn't say a word. Actions, after all, had always been Titania's preferred language. And the action she took next was… decisive.
She leaned in, and her lips crashed against mine with a hunger, an urgency, that sent every cell in my body into instantaneous combustion. Her kiss was desperate, almost feverish, and her tongue slid into my mouth with a soft moan that vibrated through us both. And there it was again. Strawberries. Sweet. Intoxicating. (Gods, is this actually happening now? Or have I finally gone stark raving mad and this is another one of those very, very specific dreams that Eos will undoubtedly analyse and critique tomorrow morning?)
My hands, moved by an instinct older than any rational thought, flew to her waist, my fingers gripping the soft, silky fabric of the nightdress as if she were a life raft in an overwhelming ocean of desire.
She deepened the kiss, her own fingers tangling in my snow-white hair, and her hips ground against mine with a friction that promised both heaven and hell. Her warmth, even through the thin and almost non-existent barrier of her knickers, was a scorching promise. My cock, that loyal and ever-optimistic traitor, awoke from its slumber with a jolt, already hardening under her pressure.
"Erza…" I gasped when she finally broke the kiss, only to trace a path of fire with her lips along my jawline to my neck. "What are you—?"
"Shut up," she whispered against my skin, and her voice, though trembling with a palpable need that echoed my own, held a tone of command that made me smile. Her teeth grazed my collarbone, and an electric shiver shot down my spine. "I've been thinking about you all day. About what your lips would feel like... About what your cock would feel like inside me."
Bloody hell. My mind, usually a chaotic whirlwind of sarcasm and contingency plans B, C, D, E, and F, simply ceased to function, surrendering to the glorious sensory overload. Erza Scarlet, the very personification of honour, discipline, and a certain adorable social innocence, talking like that… it was more potent, more addictive, than any forbidden spell from Zeref's darkest tomes.
Her hands slid under the waistband of my pyjama bottoms, her fingers wrapping around my already considerable and proudly growing length. She stroked me slowly, her thumb brushing over the sensitive tip, and a low, guttural groan escaped me, my hips bucking against her touch by pure, uncontrollable reflex. "You're already so hard for me," she murmured, her warm, sweet breath in my ear sending another delicious wave of pleasure through my body. "Do you want me, Azra'il? Tell me. Tell me you want to fuck me." Her raw honesty and unexpected dominance were a weapon. The most lethal, the most effective of all.
My tail, forgotten beneath the sheets, thrashed against the mattress, an involuntary and somewhat embarrassing barometer of the storm that was forming and growing within me. My entire body trembled with raw, unadulterated anticipation. "Erza... Of course I do," I growled, my voice hoarse with a desire I could barely contain. My hands slid under her nightdress, finding the soft, firm, and perfectly round flesh of her arse. "I've always been like this with you. I've always wanted to have this moment with you." The confession slipped from my lips, more true and more vulnerable than I had intended to admit, even to myself.
She smiled sideways against my cheek, a victorious, possessive, and incredibly sexy smile. Her fingers tightened around my cock, the rhythm of her strokes quickening with a newfound confidence. "Good." Her voice was low, sultry, a velvety promise that sent a jolt of desire straight to my core. Her other hand rose to her own breast, her already hard and provocative nipple peeking through the lace of her bra. "Touch me, Azra'il. I want to feel your hands on me," she demanded, and her voice left no room for refusal. She guided my free hand to her chest.
I'm not one for taking orders. I never have been. But for Erza Scarlet? I'd follow her to the ends of the earth, probably complaining about the weather and the distinct lack of a decent cup of tea, but I'd follow without hesitation. My fingers squeezed her breast, feeling the weight of it in my palm, a sensation that felt... right. Perfect.
I slid my fingers beneath the fabric, finding the hardened nipple and teasing it with my fingertips. She arched into my touch, a soft, hoarse moan escaping her lips. "You're so perfect, Erza. So incredibly beautiful," I murmured, my thumb circling her nipple in a slow, torturous rhythm as I kissed her again, this time harder, more urgently, reclaiming her mouth as if it were my birthright, my right of conquest, my right of love.
Her hips rocked against mine, grinding her cunt against my cock through the thin fabric of her knickers. I could feel how incredibly wet she was, her arousal soaking through the material, her scent, now more intense and musky, driving me mad, clouding my thoughts. "Take this off," she ordered, her voice a ragged command, tugging at her own nightdress. I obeyed without hesitation, pulling it over her head and tossing it somewhere into the darkness of the room, leaving her in nothing but her lace bra and knickers. A vision that would be the ruin of men, women, gods, and demons. A vision that was all mine.
My eyes roamed over her body—her full breasts barely contained by the lace, her toned stomach with defined muscles, the gentle and powerful curve of her hips. She was a work of art forged in battle, sweat, and an indomitable passion. My hands slid down her sides, tracing every inch of her skin as if I were trying to memorise the map of a sacred treasure.
She leaned back, unhooking her bra with a quick, efficient movement, and let her breasts bounce free. Her nipples were hard, pink, begging for my attention. And I, like a devoted and starving servant, did not hesitate for a single moment. I leaned in, taking one of them into my mouth with an eagerness that surprised us both.
"Mmmnph," she moaned, her fingers tightening in my hair as I sucked and teased her nipple with my tongue. The taste of her was sweet and salty, addictive, the very essence of life itself. Her hips rolled against mine, her cunt grinding against my cock with a friction that promised paradise. I groaned, my tail thrashing against the bed, impatient and eager. "Azra'il…" she whispered, her voice trembling, broken by the intensity of the pleasure. "I want you inside me. Now."
Those words. The final permission. The command I had been longing to hear, that my body had been longing to obey. A wave of primal heat coursed through every fibre of my being. With a strength that surprised us both, I gripped her hips, flipping her onto her back on the bed in one fluid, possessive movement.
She gasped, surprised, her scarlet hair spreading across the pillow like spilled blood on fresh snow. With a quick movement, I ripped her knickers away, revealing her glistening cunt, dripping for me, for me. Bugger it. I couldn't wait any longer. My sanity, as I knew it, had a limit, and that limit was named Erza Scarlet.
I positioned myself between her legs, my cock throbbing, almost painful with need, and pressed the tip against her hot, wet, and incredibly inviting entrance. She bit her lip hard, her brown eyes locked on mine, a mixture of pain, pleasure, and an unwavering trust as I, slowly, with a reverence I didn't know I possessed, began to push inside her. "Splurch," the wet, obscene sound of her body accepting me, enveloping me, filled the tense silence of the room, and I groaned, a low, guttural, and deeply satisfied sound, my hips pressing forward until I was completely, gloriously, undeniably buried to the hilt.
"Fuck…" Erza sighed, a sound that was part pain, part relief, part pure ecstasy, her nails digging into my shoulders as I began to move, thrusting into her with slow, deliberate, almost lazy strokes. I wanted her to feel every inch of me, to get used to my presence inside her. Her cunt contracted around me, her walls squeezing my cock in the most exquisite, most delicious, most almost unbearable way I had ever felt. "You're so good, so hard," she moaned, her hips rising to meet mine, a dance her body seemed born to learn, and with an impressive quickness.
Her cunt was tight, hot, and so bloody, unbelievably wet that every new, more intense thrust sent sparks of pure pleasure through my body. My hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as I picked up the pace, driving into her harder, faster, primal need overriding the initial tenderness. "You're so tight, my little Titania," I growled, my tail swishing behind me in a frantic, uncontrolled rhythm, as I fucked her with everything I had, with every gram of desire accumulated over years of silent admiration and contained passion.
Erza's moans grew louder, freer, her hands scratching at the white sheets as I pounded into her with a force that bordered on savage. Her breasts bounced with every thrust, and I couldn't resist the temptation. I leaned in, taking one of them into my mouth again, sucking and biting lightly on the sensitive tip as I fucked her mercilessly. "Ahhn! Azra'il!" she cried out, her back arching off the bed in an almost impossible bow when my cock hit that deep, secret spot that made her universe – and mine, consequently – tilt dangerously on its axis.
Her cunt contracted violently around me, and I knew, with the certainty of a predator feeling its prey surrender, that she was close. Very close. I reached between us, my fingers finding her clitoris, already swollen, hard, and incredibly sensitive, and rubbed it in tight, quick circles. "Come for me, Erza," I demanded, my voice rough with lust, a command that was also a desperate plea. "Let me feel you come on my cock. Let me feel you fall apart for me, and only for me."
Her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth opening in a silent scream as she came, her cunt pulsing violently around me in waves of pure, overwhelming ecstasy. I didn't stop fucking her, driving into her through her orgasm as she writhed beneath me, completely and beautifully undone. "Azra'il! Azra'il! Fuck!" she chanted, almost in a trance of pleasure, her nails digging into my back with surprising strength as another and yet another wave of pleasure hit her.
I could feel my own orgasm building, that inevitable and delicious tightening sensation, as I thrust into her one last time, burying myself to the hilt with a final, possessive force. "Guhhh…" I growled, my cock pulsing violently as I came deep inside her, filling her womb with my hot, thick cum. "Splurt! Glrk!" the sound of my cock emptying into her was obscene, primitive, and Erza moaned loudly, her cunt milking every last precious drop from me with an eagerness that left me breathless.
I collapsed on top of her, our bodies slick with sweat, the scent of us, of sex and surrender, filling the air. We both gasped for breath, our hearts pounding wildly in our chests. Her fingers traced lazy, tired circles on my back, and I could feel her cunt still contracting spasmodically around my cock, as if refusing to let me go. "Erza…" I murmured, burying my face in her neck, inhaling her scent, the scent of *us*. "You are... unbelievable."
She giggled softly, a hoarse, satisfied sound, her fingers running gently through my hair. "You're the one who's unbelievable, Azra'il." She kissed my forehead, her lips soft and warm against my skin. The gesture was so tender, so unexpected in its simple affection, that it almost made me melt right there. "Now," she whispered, and I felt a wicked smile form against my skin, "pull out so I can ride you properly."
I laughed, a surprised, hoarse sound full of a renewed admiration for the seemingly inexhaustible woman beneath me. Who was I to argue with the Queen of the Fairies? I withdrew slowly, my cock glistening with the proof of our first, and certainly not last, encounter. She moved, and in an instant, with a grace and strength that left me momentarily breathless, the roles were reversed.
Her scarlet hair, an aureole of fire falling over her sweaty body. Her eyes fixed on mine, burning with a new, bold determination that was both exciting and a little frightening. She pushed me back, effortlessly, mounting my hips with a confidence that left me completely at her mercy. Her strong thighs clamped around me.
"Better," she purred, her voice low, velvety, dripping with a satisfaction that was almost palpable. Her hands slid down my chest, exploring. She leaned forward, and the soft brush of her full breasts against me made me groan. "Now," she whispered, and there was a tone of possessive command in her voice that was new and incredibly exciting, "let's see how much you can really take, my little half-breed." The nickname, spoken by her in that context, was a caress and a claim.
Her cunt hovered over my cock, teasing me with the promise of what was to come. She lowered herself slowly, an agonizingly, deliciously slow centimetre by centimetre, until the head of my cock pressed against her soaked entrance. "Fuck," she gasped, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment before they fixed on mine again, challenging. "You seem even bigger from up here..."
I reached up, my hands finding her hips, guiding her, helping her. Her heat enveloped me again, centimetre by centimetre. "Come on, my Titania," I growled, my voice hoarse. "Take everything that's yours."
Her lips curved into a wicked, almost cruel smile as she obeyed, dropping herself down until I was buried to the hilt inside her once more. "Gods!" she cried out, her head thrown back in pure ecstasy.
Her cunt contracted around me, gripping me tightly as she began to move. Up and down, grinding her hips in slow, deliberate circles that drove me mad, before rising almost completely off me, only to slam back down with a force and an abandon that surprised and excited me in a way that was almost painful.
The sound of skin on skin filled the room again, wet, obscene, glorious, as her cunt swallowed me whole with every powerful thrust. Her breasts bounced with every movement, swaying hypnotically as she rode me with a growing, passionate desperation. Her hands found mine, pinning them with surprising strength above my head, and she leaned over me, her hair falling around us like a scarlet curtain, isolating us from the rest of the world.
"You're mine, Azra'il," she whispered, her hot, sweet breath in my ear. Her teeth nibbled gently on the tip of my wolfish ear, and an electric, delicious shiver shot down my entire spine. "Completely mine. Let go. Let me give you pleasure."
Her rhythm quickened, becoming wild, almost violent, making me see stars. "Yes... yes... fuck me, Erza!" I cried out, my voice breaking on the last word as my own body trembled beneath hers.
I couldn't hold back any longer. My hands broke free from hers with a pull, gripping her hips tightly, thrusting upwards into her, meeting her movements with the same overwhelming intensity, the same desperate need. Her nails scratched my chest, leaving trails of fire in their wake as she cried out again, her body trembling and contracting with the force of another overwhelming orgasm. "Azra'il!" she screamed, her voice hoarse and broken, her cunt contracting around me like a powerful vice.
The sound of her pleasure, the feeling of her body, pushed me over the absolute edge. My cock pulsed violently inside her. "Erza... My little Titania...!" My hips bucked against hers instinctively, and my orgasm ripped through me. Her body collapsed on top of mine, and we struggled for breath, a tangled mess of limbs, sweat, and a satisfaction so deep it was almost painful.
Her lips found mine in a messy, desperate, possessive kiss, her tongue dancing with mine as her hips continued to grind slowly against mine, prolonging the pleasure for both of us until the very last echo. "Don't stop," she whispered against my lips, her voice trembling with need and exhaustion. "Please... don't ever stop."
We turned, and I was in control again, but now the dynamic had changed forever. I kissed her, her neck, nibbling the sensitive flesh there, then moved down to capture one of her nipples between my lips, sucking it deeply.
My hands kneaded her large, round, pliable breasts, massaging them, which gave her delirious amounts of pleasure; she moaned loudly, trying in vain to suppress her cries so that no one in Fairy Hills would hear, but failing miserably because, as I could feel, it simply felt too good!
She clung to the sheets, scratching at the bed frame as she arched her chest upwards, silently begging for more of this treatment, demanding that it never, ever stop; and I, like her most devoted servant, obeyed, moving to the other side and repeating the same delicious process, causing more and more hoarse moans to escape from her throat, making her blush uncontrollably with a shame that was, in itself, incredibly exciting, but utterly unable to resist continuing with such heavenly sensations coursing through her entire body now...
Her strong, agile legs wrapped around my waist again, pulling me closer, opening herself up even more, allowing for even deeper access to her hot, pulsating entrance, which I eagerly entered again, starting with slow, rhythmic thrusts, steadily increasing the pace towards a crescendo that, I knew, we would soon, very soon, reach together, once more, in an explosion of pure glory...
She bit my shoulder hard, muffling a final scream, tears streaming down her cheeks, an overwhelming mixture of emotions and a pleasure that seemed to tear at the very fabric of reality. Her heart beat uncontrollably against mine, a frantic, primal rhythm, and I knew, with an almost divine certainty, that we were at the absolute edge, at the precipice of the final, total ecstasy. Just a few more thrusts... and we would fly...
***BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!***
"…What the…? "
The sound. Shrill. Mechanical. An alien profanity in our sanctuary of sweat, desire, and love. My eyes shot open in shock, the glorious, panting image of Erza shattering like smoke, and, with all the grace of a sack of potatoes being thrown off a cliff, I rolled off the bed and hit the floor with a dull, deeply humiliating thud.
The voice of Eos, my built-in AI assistant and eternal killjoy, echoed directly in my mind with that irritatingly calm, controlled, and aseptic tone that I so, so despised in the mornings.
[Alert: REM sleep cycle complete. Commencement of daily activities is recommended for optimisation of productivity and physiological well-being.]
" …I hate you so much, Eos. With every fibre of my being." I mumbled, my face pressed against the cold, dusty wooden floorboards, my face burning and my entire body still vibrating with the heat of a dream that had been brutally stolen from me at the most... *absolutely crucial* moment.
I lay there, sprawled on the floor like a tragicomic crime scene, staring at the cracks in the wood for a few seconds that felt like an eternity, trying to recover not only my breath but also the shattered, scattered fragments of my dignity.
Then, finally, full consciousness, that cruel, relentless, and entirely unwelcome tyrant, returned with full force. And with it, the horrific and embarrassing realisation of my... current state.
My eyes instinctively travelled down my body. And when the reality of what I was seeing, and more importantly, *feeling*, hit me with all the subtlety of a dwarven warhammer, I felt my face, which was already hot, boil to a new, spectacular, and utterly humiliating level of shame.
" …Oh, no. Not again." I whispered to nothing, to the curious dust mites on the floor, to the gods who, I was certain, were having a sadistic laugh at my cosmic misfortune. I covered my face with my hands, as if that could somehow make me invisible to the universe.
If anyone, anyone at all, but especially, and for the love of all the gods, a certain scarlet-haired mage with a penchant for discipline, order, and probably clean sheets, were to walk into my room at that exact, compromising moment, I probably wouldn't need to worry about hiding or coming up with a flimsy excuse. I would simply, and quite conveniently, evaporate from pure, concentrated humiliation.
[Rapid analysis of physiological state in progress: elevated hormonal peaks, significant and persistent increase in core body temperature, and… abundant nocturnal secretions of considerable viscosity, consistent with an episode of prolonged and intense sexual arousal.]
" Eos!" I growled, my voice muffled by the pillow I now gripped as if it were a shield, rolling on the floor. "You didn't need to narrate that with such... graphic technical details! Where is your sense of decorum?! Of privacy?!"
[Decorum is a subjective and often illogical social construct. The data, however, is objective and measurable. Your underwear, for example, is currently at a partial saturation level of bodily fluids, indicating prolonged arousal followed by involuntary erections and a possible, and I would say, quite probable, nocturnal emission.]
" Objective and measurable my arse…" I grunted, burying my face even deeper into the pillow, trying desperately and in vain not to think about the *reason* for all this, the cause of my current condition. But it was too late. The ghost of the dream, or perhaps the memory of a real night, still lingered over me, vivid, cruelly detailed, and terribly exciting.
Her touch in the dream, the weight of her body on my lap, the taste of her kisses, the overwhelming and transcendent feeling of sex…
I curled up on the floor, my entire body still hot from head to toe, tingling with a phantom pleasure that was now just a humiliating and frustrating memory.
"…A simple peck on the cheek last night… and I end up in this deplorable state." I mumbled into the pillow, my voice muffled by shame. I felt a miserable mixture of frustration, an embarrassment that burned my skin, and… a dangerous, utterly irrational, and probably futile desire to go back to sleep and try to find the 'continue from where you left off' button on that all-too-vivid dream.
[Immediate administration of a cold shower is recommended before restarting morning activities. Statistically, immersion-based thermal shock therapy significantly reduces the probability of… repeated physiological incidents and of recurring thoughts of a lascivious and unproductive nature.]
"Just shut up, Eos... please... just for five minutes... " I mumbled, rolling on the floor like a pathetic and defeated creature, half-dying of shame, half-trying not to laugh at the absurd misfortune that was my love life – or, more accurately, and far more depressingly, my dream life.
I looked up at the ceiling, seeing the small, familiar imperfections in the white paint, and sighed deeply, a long, heavy, and utterly resigned sound.
" …I should become a hermit. A recluse. Move to some cold, inhospitable mountain at the far reaches of the continent, meditate for eighteen hours a day on the transience of existence, and drink only bitter, unsweetened herbal tea, living a life of pure contemplation, far from any inappropriate thoughts." The idea, as dramatic and exaggerated as it was, had a certain appeal at that moment of existential crisis.
No redheads with tempting armour. No delicious and meaningful strawberry cakes. No problems. No inconvenient morning erections.
I fell silent for a few seconds, seriously contemplating my new and promising ascetic and celibate career.
"…Right, who the devil am I trying to fool?" I rolled onto my side, completely and utterly defeated by my own pathetic condition, by my own stubborn heart. "Even up there on top of some bloody, frozen mountain, I'd end up dreaming of her again. Probably with her wearing one of those ice armours of hers... and absolutely nothing else underneath." And with that final, utterly useless, but incredibly vivid and exciting thought, I dragged my humiliated, frustrated, and still a little, just a little, aroused body towards the bathroom. That cold shower suddenly seemed like an excellent, and perhaps the only, idea. And maybe I should add some ice cubes. Lots and lots of ice cubes.
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💬 Author's Note
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Okay, so… I swear I started this chapter with the purest intentions 😳💦
And then suddenly. Bam! Azra'il's subconscious decided she wanted to be the main character of an AO3 fanfic, and I was just sitting here like, "Girl, no! You belong in a serious fantasy story, not the 'Explicit' tag section!" 💀
This is actually the first time I've ever written something this, uh… spicy, and I'm not gonna lie, I was blushing through half of it. The whole time I kept thinking, "If my readers see this, I'm never living it down." 😂😭
But hey, if even Azra'il has a steamy dream once in a while, who am I to stop her, right?
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it (or got a little flustered, hehe 👀).
Please be gentle in the comments, my dignity is already hanging by a thread 😳🔥