hello lovelies 🤍🤍 and welcome to a court of mh! I will be posting multi-part fics, one-shots, drabbles, etc… whatever I’m inspired to write for acotar characters! mostly smut, with a sprinkle of fluff. I tend to lean towards the softer side of smut, but things definitely still can get freaky/kinky!! 😈 send in your requests, I’m very open to inspiration and in need of tumblr friends!! most fics aren’t heavily edited. I created this blog to brain dump all the fantasies that I dream up throughout the day, so this blog is purely for fun. I’m not going to take things too seriously or else my perfectionism wouldn’t allow me to post anything lol. finally, if you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say it at all! 😇 enjoy reading! 🫶🏻
Warnings: femdom, Azzie being a sub, degradation, spitting
“You look so good in red.”
You offered him a wicked grin as you pressed your palms flat against his chest, pushing him back to your shared bed. With a light shove, he sat.
“Am I convincing you to expand your wardrobe?” You smiled, standing between his spread legs, his hands running up the backs of your thighs, giving an appreciative squeeze to your ass.
He chuckled, “I think I’ll need a little more convincing before I start wearing Cassian’s colour.” You snorted, hands splaying across his broad shoulders, “he can find another colour,” you whispered, leaning down to capture his mouth with yours. “Gonna only think of me when you see this shade.” You pressed your red painted lips against his one more time before you moved to your vanity table, lifting the lipstick to your mouth before smoothly reapplying it, basking in the interested look he was giving you.
You popped your lips together when you were done, swiping your index finger over the corners, keeping your eyes trained on his. Slowly, you set the reddener down, moving back over to him, swinging your hips. “Only touch me when I tell you,” you ordered softly, making him look up at you, hunger and anticipation mixing in his adoring gaze.
Slowly, you trailed your hands over his chest, gliding to his legs as you gracefully lowered yourself to a kneel, pushing his thighs slightly apart so your hands could undo his belt. You took no small amount of pleasure, seeing how his were already fisted in the bedsheets.
“Enjoying yourself, soldier?” Your thumb brushed in soothing strokes, meeting his heated gaze, a flush of colour at the crests of his cheeks. You could tell he wanted to touch you, but you hadn’t given him permission. “You’re not going to convince me just by kneeling, pretty thing,” he drawled, not yet willing to yield his control, “set that mouth to work.”
Arousal gathered between your legs but you pushed it aside. This was about him. “It’s no fun if you don’t let the pleasure build, Azriel.” You dipped forward slowly, keeping your gaze on his as you pressed your mouth between his legs, a thin impression of your lips being printed on the dark fabric of his leathers. “Any ideas?” You whispered, feeling him twitch under your mouth, the edges lifting into a smirk.
He feigned disinterest, leaning back on his hands casually, “you look so good down there.” One of his long legs hooked over your shoulder, pressing your face into his crotch, laughing darkly, “like it’s where you belong.”
You pulled away and he waited for your rebuttal, but all you did was smile, “you want to hurry me along?” Your tongue swiped leisurely over your bottom lip, wetting the pigment. “I think I’ll go slower,” you drawled, fingers unlatching his belt, dropping the the ties of his leathers, “and I won’t speed things up.” His eyes darkened lustfully. “Even when you beg me to.”
Heat flushed his cheeks as you pushed the material aside, your hand wrapping firmly around the base of his cock, thumb tracing over the hot skin. He inhaled sharply at the contact, fingers digging into the sheets. “Excited, Azriel?” You murmured, aware your mouth was mere inches from where he wanted it.
He gritted his teeth, “you know you can’t swallow all of me. Too much for your tight, little, throat, hmm?” It was true. You got pretty close, more than anyone else could, for sure. You knew it kind of turned him on, though. How he could stuff you full. Spill over the edges.
You arched a brow, abruptly tightening you hold on him, making him hiss. “I thought you wanted my tight, little, throat?” You scraped the edge of your nail beneath the head of his cock, making his teeth grit, a strained groan coming from his glorious mouth. You smirked, “that’s what I thought. Now why don’t you shut that mouth, and let me get on with using mine, yeah?” His lip curled, but he remained silent.
You smirked, “good, Shadowsinger.”
A growl rumbled in his chest, making arousal flare in the pit of your belly. “Look at you, following my commands like an obedient soldier.” You slowed the movement of your hand, “how perfect you are.”
You leant forward, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock, leaving the dark red print of your lips stamped around the slit in the head. You pulled away, tipping your gaze to Azriel’s as you raised your hand so your thumb could press against the tip, rubbing softly. “How pretty,” you drawled, making his ears warm. His breaths had shallowed, soft pants already flowing from his plush lips.
At your words, a small rush of humiliation coursed through him, the kind only you could make feel good. Deserved. He swallowed, fisting his hands tighter in the sheets. How badly he wanted to tangle his them in your hair and shove you down on his cock. Make you drool. Choke.
Fuck.
You noticed as his breaths increased, excitement flowing in your blood. “You’re being so good for me,” you murmured, making him twitch as your breaths ghosted over him. “Just a little longer,” you spoke softly. Not saying until what. Let him work himself up wondering.
Without warning, you leant forward, using the flat of your tongue to go from root to tip, his breath catching, a quiet moan tumbling helplessly from his mouth. “There you go,” you whispered, “let me hear those lovely little sounds.” You pressed another kiss to the base of his cock, printing a second set of deep rouge marks onto him, moving upwards steadily as you went higher, until it no longer stained.
You hummed disapprovingly to yourself, eyes flicking up to his. “Your cock’s taking all the pigment away.” You tipped your head to the side, using only a featherlight touch as you glided your hand over him. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.
Teasing.
His eyes flickered, restraint waring.
“Greedy,” you continued, “just like you.” His brow narrowed, wanting you to give him more pleasure. Demanding it with his gaze. “Taking too much, too excessively.” You pulled back to look at him, making a muscle feather in his jaw. “Stay put.”
Then you stood, releasing him as you went to your vanity table. Collecting the dark crimson stick, you returned to him, “you’re going to make me use all of this if you don’t get your gluttony under control.” You smiled, wickedly, gesturing for him to take the lipstick. “Go on,” you taunted, pushing it into his hand.
He took in a breath, raising it to your lips, about to press down. “Make sure you don’t smudge it,” you added, making him scowl.
“Shut your mouth and we won’t have any problems,” he snapped back.
It was what you’d been waiting for.
You took advantage of his raised concentration on the task you’d given him, hands landing on his shoulders as you shoved him down onto the bed, his eyes widening marginally in surprise. Your mouth landed on his soon after, prowling up his body, hands greedily sliding beneath his shirt as you settled your hips over his, pressing yourself against him. A startled moan flew from his mouth into yours, and gods if it’s wasn’t the most arousing sound you’d ever heard.
Still, you pushed his shirt over his head, breaking contact for barely a moment before you were crushing your mouth against his, completely overpowering him. And he let it happen. Quite happily if his cock was any indication.
It was hot. Wet. Moans passing so intimately between you, saliva spilling as you began to loose yourselves. Your hands traced up his chest, thumbs grazing his nipples making him jolt. You hummed into the mouth-watering kiss, “like that?” You did it again, pinching lightly and you felt him twitch against you. “Now you know what it feels like when you use those damned shadows on me.” You ground your hips down on him, making him groan, eyes rolling back slightly.
You trailed down him, sucking hard on the hot skin of his neck. Marking him. Bruising him.
You bit down. An open-mouthed moan flew out into the darkness, making him quickly silence himself, biting his lip. You tutted, “bad.” You lifted your hips away from his, halting the pleasure you’d been drowning him in. Sweat was coating his body as he involuntarily bucked his hips after you, instincts beginning to take control. All he wanted was to fuck you into the bed. Pound into you so hard you’d babble. Cry.
“Come on, pretty thing. Let me hear you sing,” you drawled, a smirk curling your deliciously tinted lips. Through his haze, he managed a small snarl, “cocky.”
Your hand gripped his jaw, tight. Nails piercing his skin as he jerked away. Again, his hips bucked. “Open,” you snarled, leaving no room for argument. He opened, blindly following your order.
When you spat in his mouth, his eyes widened marginally, cock twitching. “Swallow it,” you demanded.
He did.
You watched the roll of his throat. A devious grin played on your mouth, “there you go, just needed to be set straight, didn’t you?” You crooned, settling your hips down. He was somehow larger than before and you were almost certain he would be able to feel how wet you were through your clothes.
You kissed down his chest, teeth nipping at the sweat-slicked muscle. Once you reached his nipples, you brought out your canines, showing him everything he’d done to you on countless nights. To your utter arousal, his back arched, fingers tightening in the mattress. It was arousing.
He was arousing.
It was instinct at this point.
“You can touch me.”
It was barely a breath but his hands were desperately grabbing at your hips, pulling you tight against him. He was panting, eyes lidded as his head tipped back into the bed, basking in the feeling of the delicious friction.
You pressed your palms firmly against his stomach, pushing yourself up so you could slowly drag your hips over his, allowing his hands to guide you. Only for a bit. Reprieve.
Then you were shifting down his body, returning to your original position as he pushed up on his elbows so he could watch. You made a show of wetting your lips, as if you were about to consume the most exquisite meal. His breaths were laboured as he spread his legs wider. So desperate.
You lips quirked up at the sides, “whore.” The world alone made his eyes flutter, a soft moan slipping from his mouth, a hand pleadingly cupping your cheek. You leaned into his hand, turning your head to kiss him on the palm, just to let him know you didn’t mean it. That you were lovers. Your canines nipped at him before you returned your attention to his cock that was throbbing needily.
“Want my mouth, Azriel?” Your lips grazed the head, his hand tangling in your hair, softly pushing you toward him. You didn’t budge. You were rewarded with a sound almost like a whine, heat flaring over your cheeks at the inherent sexuality of it. His hand gripped a little tighter, pushing a little harder. A satisfied grin played on your mouth.
“Come on,” you murmured, lips brushing over his cock, “I want to know how you sound when you beg.” His cheeks were stained red, chest rising and falling rapidly, lips plump and wet. Divine. You mentally captured the scene, taking in the lighting, his soft noises, and his scent.
You groaned as his arousal filled your lungs, like some kind of aphrodisiac. He smelled so good. So mouth-wateringly good.
His lower lip was tugged between his teeth, as his breath hitched at your command. After a moment of hesitation, he fell before you completely, “please.” It was hardly a whisper. Not even a breath. And instantly you wanted more. “Again,” you ordered, voice strained with the need to hear him again.
His eyes flickered away from yours - he was nervous.
You laced your hand with the one in your hair, brining it to your mouth as you pressed a kiss to the centre of his palm, nosing along the knuckles of his scarred fingers. “You can do it,” you whispered, pressing another kiss to the heel of his palm. “Come on, Az,” you murmured tenderly.
It felt so good, hearing him moan for you. But begging? Pleading?
Fucking Cauldron.
His eyes returned to yours, uncharacteristically uncertain but very turned on. “Please,” he whispered, the sounds softly popping against your ears, “give me relief.” You nodded encouragingly, arousal already melting your resolve to withhold his pleasure.
“What do you want me to say?” His words were breaking, lilting in volume. This was apparently new territory for him. You pressed one final kiss to his palm, reminding him he was safe to yield this to you. To, for once, let down his guard completely, leave himself vulnerable.
“Tell me what you want. Everything you want me to do to you,” you requested, squeezing his hand, “every thought you’re having.” Another squeeze, “I want to know all of it.” Your eyes settled on his, calm and steady, “and I want to know your mind like I know my own.”
He swallowed, nervously. He was so unaccustomed to being like this, even by himself. Let alone someone else. When was the last time he’d be win so open with another? Had there ever been a last time?
In the end, he crumbled, melting for you. “Take me past the edge,” he requested, softly, “I want to cross it with you.” He squeezed your hand.
You guided his hand back to your hair, moving up so he could lie back; use both his hands. He barely even thought about it, hands tangling mercilessly with the plentiful stands, guiding your mouth to his cock. Pushing you down. Bucking up.
You moaned onto him, making him suck in a sharp breath, fingers scraping over your scalp. He guided you, moving you how he wanted, following his innate rhythm as you swallowed as much of him as you could. He tasted divine. So distinctly like himself.
His breath hitched as he neared that edge, your palms splaying against his thighs as you rubbed soft patterns onto his thighs. They were already trembling. A small, slightly high-pitched sound fell from his mouth as your tongue dragged along the underside of him, gliding to the dip beneath his head. You squeezed his thigh to reassure him. He squeezed back.
He twitched in your mouth, hips bucking a little erratically as he was flown closer, and closer to the peak. A soft, unprepared moan flew from his mouth as he came, hips jerking as he spilled into you, tongue swirling around his tip as you felt the hot, thick liquid hit the roof of your mouth, settling on your tongue.
Your eyes rolled as you tasted him, feeling how he coated your tongue, how perfect it felt to have him in your mouth. You swallowed, guiding him through the aftershocks. Only pulling away when his hands were guiding you to.
His breathing was shallow, eyes still heated, if a little tired.
You delivered a tentative lick to the tip of his cock, making his hands tremble as he gently tugged at your hair. Carefully, you crawled up his body, attaching your mouth to his when he pulled you closer. He moaned softly when he tasted himself on you, beginning to push upwards to have more of you but you pressed your hand against his chest. “Stay there, Az,” you whispered against his mouth, “let me look after you.” You bumped your nose against his as he melted beneath you, allowing you to kiss him slowly. Deep.
“Want a hot soak?” You murmured, hand cupping his jaw as a thumb swiped beneath his flushed mouth. He swallowed, unfamiliar with being on the receiving end of this treatment, “I’m fine.” You have him a look, “come on, Azzie,” you smiled, “you know the protocol.”
A hint of his own smile lifted the edges of his mouth as he allowed you to guide him to the wash room. Allowing you to give him the necessary love and affection after such an intense night.
loved your other headcanons would you maybe do some period headcanons?
Cycle | Period Headcanons
I didn't both including Rhys (again) because this is officially a Rhys slander blog.
Cassian
Cassian can sense it before you do. He'll never say so but you always know by the way he subtly starts preparing. He'll make sure to treat you with extra care and attention, not that it's ever lacking to begin with but the way he loves you and touches you is softer in some way.
Cassian's love language is definitely physical touch; he NEEDS to be touching you. It's like a lifeline to him and he likes to think it reminds you that he is there for you in every way he can be even if he can't take your pain away.
He's such a cuddler anyway so he's always there when you need extra comfort in his arms. He'll wrap you in a signature bear hug that engulfs you entirely and stays that way until you're ready to pull away.
He'll indulge all your cravings-- anything you just have to ask he's so attentive and soft!!
I'm a big believer that Cassian isn't scared of blood, he's seen enough of it so he's totally on board with continuing bedroom activities if you're comfortable with it.
Azriel
Azriel is highly attuned to those subtle changes that nobody else would notice; the slight swell of your breasts, the widening of your hips, changes in your behaviour, your scent. Which means he always knows it's coming.
Like Cass he's always well prepared but in different ways. I 1000% believe his love language is acts of service so instead of offering purely physical comfort he will also run you a warm bath, a heating pad, and tea to ease the pain. He'll give you whatever it is that you need.
That's not to say that he neglects your physical needs in any way if anything it's one of the times you need it most. He'll hold you all night, kissing your forehead and pulling you close sharing your combined body heat, his hand over your stomach for comfort.
Azriel is so protective and understanding and will take time from his work to take care of you whether you tell him to or not. It's his job to take care of his mate.
Eris
Eris is so busy that he doesn't realise at first so he'll fuss over you thinking that you're hurt or upset.
He feels a bit embarrassed that he didn't notice. How could he not? So he'll beat himself up about being inattentive and attempt to make up for it in other ways.
His hands are fucking magic, the fire in him means he makes the best hot water bottle ever, his hands do a much better job than any heating pad you can imagine. And he'll run you hot baths and sit with you, washing your hair and massaging your shoulders because he needs you to be at peace.
He's super vocal about how beautiful he finds you during these times, knowing you're a little more needy and emotional but he doesn't mind it one bit.
He takes pride in how needy you get for him and he likes feeling needed and knowing that he is the only one who can take care of you brings him so much comfort too.
Lucien
Lucien always knows he's so in tune with your body that he has the calendar mapped out. so he likes to be well-equipped to deal with it and to help you as best he can. He's always got snacks on hand cause that's the only thing he can think to do.
does Lucien have an excuse to lay in bed with you all day? no. does he need one? also no. you best believe this man is in bed or by your side the whole time.
He's so supportive the whole time, offering you drinks and food and cuddles, whatever you need he's got it handled.
Lucien telling you he heard that sex can help the pain is a not-so-subtle hint that he doesn't care about the mess if you don't.
Lucien is king of distraction and he'll gladly think of 100 ways to keep you entertained and your mind on other things.
Notes: Since we all be in the poly!batboys mood, I asked @writingsbychlo a bunch of questions and this is what I’ve come up with for her responses. Everyone say thank you Chlo!
Some might say that this is too much smut, but I hope those someones aren’t here. 😉
Pairing: Elriel
Rating: E
Word Count: ~3k
Tags: PWP, Smut, Fluff, Choking Kink, Praise Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Post-ACOSF
Summary: Azriel and Elain do the dishes together after a family dinner.
Read this fic on AO3 and find more on my masterlist!
Elain was elbow-deep in dishwater when she felt him.
He must have crept in on slow, silent feet—she didn’t realize she wasn’t alone until the back of her neck prickled and the shadows on the counter warped, stretching unnaturally in the bright kitchen.
A split-second glance over her shoulder was all she managed as that mass of shadow coalesced at her side, devouring the golden faelight, before the darkness engulfed her.
Lips and then teeth dragged up her throat; a large hand stroked her hip. Another covered her mouth, its mottled, scarred surface muffling the involuntary whimper that each new touch coaxed out of her.
The window over the sink reflected her own wide eyes back at her, the starless night outside transforming its glassy surface into a mirror. She and the darkness were framed by the shadowed outline of her garden outside, her roses and jasmine limned by pale light of a new moon.
In the corner of the window, she could see the double doors that led out of the kitchen over her shoulder.
And beyond those doors, the low murmur of voices was still audible in the sitting room just down the hall.
The shadows withdrew, the hand over her mouth following the trail of a loose curl to her shoulder.
Elain let out a ragged breath, tipping her head back to rest it against a firm shoulder. “What are you doing here? I thought we couldn’t—”
She cut herself off with a mortifying squeak as the fingers in her hair tugged, and the sensation shot straight to her core.
“You’re such a godsdamn tease,” came the low rasp in her ear a second later.
Elain tried to turn, tried to face him, but his strong, steady hands snapped to her waist, holding her in place. “Azriel?”
Azriel said nothing, but a wisp of shadow carrying the heady scent of cedar and arousal stroked the ribbon around Elain’s neck—a thin strip of sky blue velvet tied in a pretty bow at the back. A sapphire no bigger than the nail on her smallest finger hung from the bow, a suggestive, secretive token that had been hidden beneath her hair for most of the night.
“Elain.” His voice was laden with dark, dangerous amusement, drawing out the two syllables of her name until she wasn’t sure where it started and the heartbeat pounding in her ears began. The dark mass of him pressed forward until she was pinned against the counter. Until she was trapped in the cage of his arms.
Through the endless layers of leather and tulle between them, she could feel the firm, ready length of his cock against her ass.
She swallowed, removing her hands from the dishwater, and braced them on the lip of the sink instead. Already, heat bloomed between her legs. Already, her legs felt weak, incapable of holding her weight.
“Don’t stop,” Azriel ordered. A shadow pulled a serving bowl out of the small stack of dishes on the counter beside the sink and pressed it into both of hers.
Blindly, Elain dipped it into the water and started scrubbing.
Azriel’s hands found her hips and dragged her back, grinding his against her. “Now, tell me why you decided to show up to a family dinner acting like such a dirty little cocktease.”
She had to blink hard to clear the haze of lust from her eyes.
“I’m not sure what you mean.” The lie was sticky on her tongue, reluctant. It was shaky at best, and she knew, just from the way Azriel’s shadows coiled and twisted like the tail of some great, amused jungle cat playing with its dinner, that he knew she was lying.
“You know exactly what I mean.” The words were slow, syrupy, like a teacher trying to coax an answer from a particularly reticent student, and Elain’s cheeks grew warm. The shadow twitched over the ribbon. “You couldn’t keep your hands off this fucking thing. Every time I looked at you, you were fidgeting with it.”
Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, and she had to press her thighs together as the first hint of wetness tickled the inside of them. His filthy language always heated her blood, and from the way his eyes glowed golden in the dark, he knew that, too.
And truth be told, she hadn’t been able to keep her hands off of the makeshift choker. She hadn’t even tried. She’d tied around her neck on a whim just moments before joining their family at the dinner table, imagining what Azriel might think when she shifted her hair onto one of her shoulders just as he passed, allowing a brief glimpse of the gem dangling from it…
He was obsessed with her throat. That much she knew.
And he had been since that first, ill-fated rendezvous the night of Solstice—since that first, tentative graze of his fingertips against her skin. He had been just as fascinated when he returned to her a week later to beg her forgiveness and confess what Rhys had ordered of him, cupping her by the nape of the neck so he could tilt her head up just so before finally, finally kissing her. And during every stolen moment since—
Well, Elain was glad she listened when Feyre waxed poetic about color theory, because she needed every bit of that information to figure out how to cover up the marks Azriel left on her throat week after week.
The little shadow flickered again, its coolness tickling her throat.
Elain lifted her chin, meeting his eyes in the glass.
“It’s itchy,” she said pertly. The bowl dropped to the bottom of the sink with a thud. “Perhaps you’re the one with the problem, since it seems you couldn’t keep your eyes off this fucking thing.”
Azriel sucked in a breath through his teeth, but if he was shocked, he didn’t show it. He didn’t even take the bait. “If it’s uncomfortable, then why are you still wearing it?”
“What business is it of yours?” She held his gaze in the mirrored window. “I wear what I want to wear.”
Azriel’s shadows stilled. His silence was as pointed as the talons that shone in the dark—it was the exact silence that made lesser souls quake and beg for their lives. But the hands holding her were gentle, their soft, expert touch slow and contemplative as he stared at her.
Elain felt every second of it like a brand held against her pounding heart.
And then the shadows seemed to shrug, shifting backward and away from Elain, and the hands fell away from her waist. “That’s true. It is no business of mine. I won’t bother you any longer.”
“No.” The word was a gasp, and Elain grabbed at a dark wrist as it retreated into a pocket of shadow, drawing it back to her waist. The shadowsinger paused, and although he said nothing, the quiet, patient tilt of his head asked enough. Her other hand rose to her throat, and she fingered the ribbon. “I was thinking of you. When I touched it, I mean. I was wondering how you liked it.”
Those glowing eyes seared into her. Elain knew what others thought of him—that most emotion from him was an icy, frosted-over, brittle thing—but the heat in that stare kept her all too aware of the length of ribbon around her neck.
“Fuck.”
Elain shuddered at the low curse and watched a second scarred hand part the darkness by her shoulder. He dragged the tail of the ribbon through his fingers and, with painstaking gentleness, pulled the bow free.
“It’s the wrong color.”
The gem clattered somewhere on the floor at their feet, and Azriel held the ribbon out in front of her. He turned it this way and that, as if he were truly holding it up to the light to assess its color. When Elain opened her mouth, he made a low shushing noise and twisted his wrist, letting her watch the cobalt Siphon on the back of his hand blaze from within with cold, calculated fire.
Her ribbon was several shades lighter than the brightest glimmer in that gemstone.
And Azriel seemed to agree, because the blue light of his power consumed the ribbon, burning it away until it was nothing but dust falling into the soapy water below.
“Az!”
“Shh, precious,” he murmured, his cool breath sending a shiver down her spine. Then that hand was back on her throat, so large it covered her from the hollow of her throat to her jaw. His Siphon glittered in their reflection, and Elain watched her own eyes go dark, clouded with lust. He pressed the rough pad of his thumb against her jaw, coaxing her head to the side, and murmured in her ear, “We wouldn’t want Rhys to hear us now, would we?”
His breath carried with it the heady scent of whiskey and smoke, and Elain made a low, wanton sound.
“Nesta bought me that ribbon,” was all she could think whisper back.
“I’ll buy you ten more.” Azriel’s head dipped, inky hair falling over his forehead, and sharp teeth sank into her throat where the ribbon had been.
Her eyes fluttered shut. “Azriel.”
He removed himself from her neck with a wet smack. “Be quiet and I’ll fuck you right here.”
Elain jolted, the slow burn between her legs flaring.
But his mouth was already back on her throat, marking her a second time. In the window, his eyes were locked on her face.
She nodded.
She could be quiet.
She could be so quiet.
Azriel let go of her neck, and his teeth were a slash of white in their dark reflection. The approval she saw shining in those dark eyes made her swallow a whine.
But he must have felt the vibration of it beneath his palm, because his own eyes lit with mirth. “Be good, and I might even let you come.”
The hand at her waist fell, palming her ass before dragging up her skirts. He moved slowly, so, so slowly, letting the rough tulle scratch against the backs of her thighs. When the hem scraped against her ass, she swallowed, and the fingers curled around her neck squeezed gently—a twisted perversion of a fond touch that drew more wetness from between Elain’s legs.
Finally, when he finally had her clothes to his liking, a cloud of tulle around her waist, Azriel pressed his hand to the small of her back, bending her over the sink. The curling steam teased her cheeks and the swell of her breasts, plastering her hair to her nape, and another caress of the hand at her throat reminded Elain to breathe.
She was up to her elbows in the water before her mind caught up to her; she lifted them out of the sink, scrubbing them dry on her skirts, and braced them against the far edge. A pair of shadows followed, curling around her wrists as if they meant to keep her in place.
She dared another glance at the window. Azriel’s eyes were locked on hers.
“You’re not wearing anything under this dress.”
He spoke plainly, as if he were commenting on nothing more pressing than the dark sky beyond the window or the ice floating in the Sidra beyond the garden.
“No,” she said, licking a bead of sweat off of the bow of her lips. “I’m not.”
Finally, he let her see the intrigue on his face, see something more than simple intensity as he traced a finger up the dripping seam of her pussy. The touch was too light to do anything but tease, and she wiggled her hips, chasing the sensation.
He cocked his head. “Were you hoping for this?”
Well, that or she was woefully underdressed for a family dinner.
Elain couldn’t help herself. She grinned. She had been a cocktease—and the flush on her cheeks deepened as she thought the word—but she didn’t dare to think he would follow her into the kitchen when she excused herself to get some air under the guise of offering to do the dishes.
“You’ve been gone all week. I missed you.”
Azriel cursed under his breath. “Hold on tight.”
The shadows around her wrists curled into the spaces between her fingers, and she heard him ripping at the fastenings of his trousers, and then the thick tip of his cock slid through her folds.
“Keep your legs—” Elain pressed her thighs together, and he groaned. “Just like that. Good girl.”
Chills erupted at his praise, and Elain was still savoring the pleasant warmth it stoked low in her core when he sank into her in one stroke. Unprepared, the thick length of his cock felt larger than ever as it stretched her, her innermost walls burning deliciously as they adjusted to him.
She gasped as pleasure bled into pain, the blended sensation so vital, so essential, and so perfectly, mind-numbingly necessary in that moment. Azriel crowded her against the counter, his chest pressed to her back, and the flare of his wings as he adjusted his balance kicked up a cooling breeze so at odds with the steaming water below her that Elain moaned.
The hand on her throat flexed, and she clenched around his cock on instinct.
Azriel hissed wickedly in her ear.
She was shivering by the time he withdrew, moving at an agonizing pace and pausing when only the head of his cock remained inside of her. When Elain tried to follow, tried to fill the hollow ache inside of her by pushing her hips back, his grip on the sides of her neck tightened.
It only took a few seconds for the welcome dizziness to set in, and Azriel stilled completely, waiting until every inch of her body turned pliant, moldable, in the wake of that choking grasp.
“I told you to be good,” he warned her. Elain couldn’t do anything but nod, her head swimming deliciously, all the weight disappearing from her limbs.
I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good.
Again and again, Azriel moved in her, squeezing her throat in time with his thrusts. And even though he never once gripped her tight enough to truly restrict her breathing, Elain was still rendered breathless, desperate, lungs burning as every gasp seemed to yield less air than the last.
His own breathing was harsh, each sawing exhale against the sweat-damp nape of her neck sending a new shiver down her back. His thumb stroked her pulse slowly, so gentle and so at odds with the hard push of his cock against the tenderest spot inside of her.
“You take me so well…” Azriel rasped against her cheek. Every word had the pleasure between her legs ratcheting higher, winding tighter, until Elain could have sobbed with it. Still, it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough, and he knew it. “My good, precious girl.”
“Az, I need— I need—” Elain cut herself off with another fruitless gasp. Her chest was burning, her own voice strangled by the low din of distant chit-chat seeping into the kitchen. Her pleasure outweighed the fear of getting caught; the certainty that Azriel would have them hidden in shadow long before they were spotted dulling the serrated edge of her fear.
“I know you do.” The hand on her hip shoved aside her skirts, some falling without care into the dishwater, going low until—
“Oh!”
His fingers spread her, dipping into the place where his cock split her, drawing that wetness up to her clit. Two of them circled, slow and taunting, in time with his thrusts. Higher up her body, his hand tightened again, slowing her racing pulse until she lost all sense of time.
She surrendered to that maddening touch, drifting in its blissful currents, following where Azriel led. He kept her on the precipice, his fingers slow and precise, until she felt his movements quicken, growing erratic and rough as he neared his own climax.
A low growl drew her out of the haze. “I want to feel you come on my cock, Elain.”
And as if that were her cue, pleasure tipped into euphoria as her legs shook, her muscles going taut. She clutched the sink, raising her head just enough to catch the feral, ravenous look in Azriel’s eyes in the window as he bowed over her, teeth bared as he came with her, and her mouth fell open in a silent scream.
She wasn’t sure how long they stayed there, shaking and catching their breath. Eventually, Azriel pulled away, sliding from her with a low noise, and lifted her away from the sink with gentle hands. He kept her upright, adjusting her skirts, and Elain blushed as he bent, scooping up the sapphire from the tile at their feet and tucking it into the front of her dress with a conspiratorial wink.
Their shared release dripped down her thighs then, heavy dishwater dragging down her skirts, and she scrunched her nose at the wet, sticky feeling.
A smile so bright it hurt to look at bloomed on Azriel’s lips, and her heart stuttered at the sight.
“Go upstairs and clean up.” He swooped down, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. Elain wrinkled it at him again, aiming for another, but he simply shook his head, the fondness in that gesture making her chest ache. His hands lingered on her waist for another moment, as if testing the steadiness of her legs, before pushing her gently in the direction of the narrow service staircase. “Be careful not to get caught on the way up, love. They’ll scent me on you.”
Somehow, he didn’t look too upset at the idea.
Elain rolled her eyes—males—and took a few shaky steps toward the stairs. Halfway there, she turned, suddenly shy. “Come with me?”
His sleeves were already rolled up, a plate bearing Amren’s half-eaten dinner in his hands.
“I’ll be up in a moment.” Azriel met her halfway and ducked his head, brushing another sweet kiss over her mouth. “As soon as I can. Leave your door unlocked.”
Elain beamed. “Always.”
Have y’all heard Need, the leaked Taylor Swift song that was cut from Lover?
And Happy Easter! 🐣💐 I know I have a million WIPS, but I hope you all enjoyed this little Elriel interlude. Also, always remember learn more and practice safe erotic asphyxiation, if this ends up being something you’re into, my friends!
I’m not above begging for soft mommy mor 🙏🏻🙌🏻 or just sexy soft dom mor
or just mor in general :)
~~~
Pairings: Mor x f!reader
Warnings: smut, mentions of oral, scissoring, mommy kink, sub/dom dynamics, bottom!reader, top!mor, make outs
Summary: Midnights spend with Mor…
Word Count: 1.5k
a/n: i’m so gay omg
~~~
Remainders of intimacy cling to soft skin. Lips glisten in the bright moonlight. Breathless pants engulf the room in a comfortable silence. And a tongue swipes, seeking out the final taste.
“You taste fucking amazing, sweetie,” Mor chuckles, littering kisses up your thigh, moving to sit back on her knees. She watches as your forearm splays over your face. Half covering the bashful look overtaking your features. “Don’t hide!” she playfully scolds, crawling over your naked body. Slotting between your legs. She bats your arm away as you mumble, “M’not.” Mor’s elbows rest on either side of your head, slender fingers sliding into your hair. She gently scratches your scalp, making you want to purr as tilts you to look at her face, which hovers closely above yours. “No?” The way she’s looking at you, eyes glazed with a mix of adoration and love, urges you to sink into submission. Feeling so safe and loved beneath her, you wish you stay like this forever.
Kissing Mor gives you an idea of what paradise feels like. Her lips are addicting, so soft and warm, it’s more than easy to get lost in the feeling of them against your own. Your head drops back onto the pillow after the first, your mouth tingling as if her lips were still on you. Mor smiles widely, admiring your face for a moment before chasing you. Her mouth captures your own, and she lets her body weight rest atop you. She suckles your bottom lip into her mouth, teeth gently biting down to drag a soft sound from your throat. Mor reciprocates the noise, tongue soothing over where she bit until she’s slipping past your lips and brushing her tongue against yours. Tasting the faint essence of yourself on her tongue, you flush, hands finding her waist as to pull her impossibly closer. Mor takes control of the kiss, and you gladly let her consume your mouth, guiding the pace that your tongue meets hers. Your hands slip underneath the silk top she has on, sliding slowly up her back. A gasp passes from Mor’s mouth and into your own. Your hands cold on her skin. “Off,” she mumbles.
Taking the hem of her top in your grasp, you begin to push the material up her body. Mor lifts, helping you pull it over her head and toss the fabric to the side. Her breaths are heavier now. Louder. A sign of her growing arousal. She leans back down, skin on skin, breasts pressing against yours. Her fingers find your jaw, softly pushing your head to the side so she has access to your pretty neck, littered with forming bruises from when she had her mouth on you earlier. She had sucked and bitten at your clear skin, had taken her time working her way down until she’d found home between your thighs. She’s gentler now. Laying light kisses over the marks, careful not press too hard. Mor flattens her tongue against your skin, licking from the base of your throat and up to your ear. The sensation makes you shiver, moaning out.
Mor groans, “Those sounds of yours,” she cups your face, making you look at her once again, “Makes me wanna fuck you so bad.” Her words shoot straight to your core, pulsing in response. Swallowing thickly, your eyes close, head leaning back, pushing into the pillows. You can feel her breath fanning over your ear, keeping your senses on edge. “Can I fuck you, sweet girl? Think you can take some more, hm?”
You nod, desperate and needy for her to touch you again. You swear just one look from Morrigan makes you want to spread your legs. “Words, sweetie. Need to hear you say it, okay?” Her thumb rubs circles over your cheek, trailing down to trace your lips. Your eyes blink open and find hers. “I want you to fuck me…please.”
The tension is thick as Mor moves, she says nothing yet her eyes have your heart pounding in anticipation. She teases you, biting her lip as her hands travel to her round, perky breasts. The moonlight shining through the open curtains casts a glow over her, highlighting each curve and crevice across her body. She plays with her taut nipples while you watch, gasping softly when she tweaks her buds. You almost feel jealous, wishing your mouth were her fingers. Which are now dragging down her stomach and hooking into her panties. Mor slips the lacey material off painfully slow, winding you up further. Your clit is throbbing, begging for attention. Yet you keep your hands by your side, instead tugging mindlessly at the sheets. You catch sight of the glistening slick coating Mor’s heat and inner thighs as she straddles your right leg. “Mhm, that’s all for you, sweet girl. You always get me so wet,” She tells you, whilst manoeuvring your other leg to wrap around her waist.
You practically yelp when Mor presses her cunt against yours, overly sensitive from your past orgasm and your need for more. Mor soothes you, gently squeezing your thigh, “It’s okay, I’ve got you, sweetie. Mommy’s got you.” She winds her hips, clit rubbing over yours. Loud moans escape both of your throats at the feeling of your warms and wet cunts grinding against each other. Your head is thrown back, eyes squeezed shut as whines slip past your lips with each roll of Mor’s thrusts. Euphoria flows around your body, making your head feel fuzzy with all the pleasure coursing through you.
“Look at me- look at me, sweetie.” You do, forcing yourself to look up at Mor. “Good girl, stay with me, okay? I want you watch as I fuck you, sweetheart.” You reach for her as she continues to bury her cunt into yours, clits massaging each other’s, sending shockwaves of pleasure through both of you. One hand finds Mor’s thigh, your nails digging into her skin as you grasp onto her. The other links with her own hand, fingers interlocking as she helps you stay grounded.
“Shit, mommy,” you whimper pathetically, hips bucking upwards when Mor’s clit bumps against your just right. Broken moans and pitchy gasps tumble from Mor’s parted lips, she’s looking down, watching how her messy cunt slides against yours. Slotting together perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle. “Love your little pussy so much, sweetie. Feel so good against me.”
Feeling your climax bubbling inside your belly, you desperately seek out more friction. You begin grinding your hips up to meet her thrusts, humping her cunt with your own. Mor moans, meeting your gaze, her eyes are blown out, clouded with arousal. “That’s my girl, you wanna cum, huh?” She asks with a husky, lust filled voice. “Wan- want to cum,” You breathe out, barely able to form words as the coil winds painfully tight, pushing you closer to the edge. The wet sounds of your cunts are loud enough to fill the entire room, each thrust producing a vulgar squelching noise. “You hear that, sweet girl? So fucking wet,” Mor sobs, drawing dangerously close to her own orgasm. She gasps, her clit bumping against yours over and over. Your thighs are staring to tremble as you tiptoe on the edge of release. “Let go, need you to let go. C’mon, cum for mommy,” Mor sounds as though she’s begging, hungry for you to climax against her cunt.
Her desperation sends you over the edge, climaxing through near silent whimpers. Your nails are surely leaving indents due to how hard you’re squeezing her thigh. The feelings soaring through your nerves are overwhelming, every through inside your head vanishes as pleasure fills up the space. Your clit pulses against Mor’s and she follows shortly after you. Her orgasm louder than your own, she mewls your name, hips jolting as she soon becomes overstimulated. Although, that doesn’t stop her from thrusting her cunt into yours, wanting to ride out both your climaxes despite your joint quivering.
Mor eventually slumps down next to you, panting as she presses her forehead against your temple. She kisses your cheek, “Fuck…you okay?” Mor asks, reaching to cup your hot cheek. You nod your head whilst turning to look at her, “Yeah. Are you?” You’re still trying to catch your breath, your eyes feeling droopy from the intense pleasure still lingering.
She smiles, “I’m good, sweet girl,” her hand leaves your face and dips between your legs to lightly pat your slick cunt, “She tired me out is all.” The sudden stimulations pulls a whine from you, thighs closing quickly. “Shh, sorry. M’sorry,” Mor chuckles breathlessly, wrapping herself around you, legs intertwining until you both are comfy.
You lay this way for a while, eyes closed and content in each other’s arms. “Wish we could stay like this forever,” You whisper into the darkness, the moon now concealed behind heavy clouds. Mor’s fingers dancing up and down your thigh is the only sign that she’s still awake, she whispers back, “I know, sweetheart. I want that too.”
summary; you've had a bad day, and you're just trying to work out some of the stress before bed.
word count; 3729
notes; there is not even a semblance of plot here.
“You're not focusing!” Azriel’s voice echoed off of the stones of the training room, your eyes narrowing on him as you swung the sword again, drove your elbow up again, twisted at the angle he’d shown you again, and… and stumbled, again. He let out a ragged sigh, like his frustration was something comparable to yours, and at the sound, your final nerve seemed to fray away.
“I didn’t ask you to be here, Azriel!” His eyes widened a little at your snap, and you through the wooden training sword down at his feet, shadows scattering like birds from trees as it dug into the sand and dirt of the ring floor. His eyes followed it, hands held tightly behind his back, and when his gaze returned to you, it had narrowed into a calculating glare. “You came up here and ruined my training session, and now you’re being a dick about it! I didn’t ask you for help, or guidance. This isn’t our weekly training session, so stop being such a prick!”
You hated the way your lower lip wobbled as your clamped your jaw shut, hated the burning in your eyes as tears threatened to spill over, but it had been the day from hell. Everything that could have gone wrong, did. And then, everything else seemed to follow suit. You’d been shouted at and looked down on and given the most crippling disappointed looks all day. You’d missed lunch and been starving, you’d almost missed dinner, your workload was behind, and to top it all off, you’d been soaked in the rain on your way back from the town.
By the time you’d managed to just about winnow yourself up from the bottom of the mountain to the balcony, your knees had buckled as you’d fallen that short gap through the wards, resulting in a dull throb you knew would be worse by morning. With a full stomach of Cassian’s leftovers and a chill creeping along your spine that you really hoped wouldn't become a sickness, you’d fallen into bed.
Only for sleep to escape you, tossing and turning for hours.
You were at the end of your tether, and Azriel was only making it worse. The person who was usually so calm and collected, the man who normally helped you solve your problems, who would make you smile on days you didn’t think it possible and laugh when you shouldn’t be, was making it so much worse.
“I thought you were angry.”
“You thought wrong.” You sniped, deciding that you really didn’t have any strength left, any more witty comebacks, as tension roiled under your skin. You’d hoped that frustration at the day and the stress building up inside of you would be released through exercise, but it seemed to only be making it worse. You were so wound up that you stumbled, and tripped, and could barely think straight for the flying thoughts, making the feelings ten times worse than they had been when you’d stepped foot out here an hour ago.
The stars were twinkling away in a clear night sky, the moon shining down, not a single trace of any of the storm clouds that had soaked you through hours ago, and you tried to calm yourself by looking out at the pretty picture. “I thought-”
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, alright?”
Spinning on your heel, you barely made it two steps before a darting shadow was whipping out, cold entity wrapping around your wrist in a daring move, as Azriel let out a dissatisfied sound behind you. “Don’t turn your back on me.”
“Excuse me?” There was that fire, that rage, that spark you thought had gone out today, reignited with indignation at the sound of his voice. When you spun again, he was closer, silent steps carrying him towards you with such determination you almost wanted to step back. Almost. Stubbornness kept you rooted to the spot, until he was stopping with merely a foot between your bodies.
“I said, don’t turn your back on me, I’m trying to talk to you.”
“No, you’re yelling at me, and making me feel even shittier about an already shitty day.” Golden eyes searched your own, a piercing stare that was hard to hold when you felt too small now, shadowed by his large frame, wings flexing each time they drooped low enough to touch the sands.
“Why are you really up here?” His murmur was soft, much nicer than the harsh shouting he’d been resorting to for at least the last thirty minutes, and a wash of comfort soothed over your skin, like cold water on a hot day.
“What does it matter, Az? It’s not productive, we’re both wasting our time.”
“It matters, because I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.” His fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach out, before he was curling it into a fist by his side instead. “I thought you were angry. I thought you were up here trying to beat out your sensations on that punching bag, so I figured yelling was what you needed. I heard… the shadows say you’ve had a bad day. I thought tough love was what you needed.”
His throat bobbed as you stared up at him, his shoulders rising and falling scarcely an inch in a shrug you’d not have even noticed if you weren’t standing so close to him. “I’m not angry, Azriel. I’m stressed. I had a shitty day, and none of it was my fault but I got all the blame. I was cold, and wet, and hungry. When I decided to just sleep it all away, I couldn’t even do that. I’m not mad, I’m just tense.”
He nodded, bright eyes sweeping over you once, assessing. You allowed yourself to do the same, though you were sure it wasn’t for the same reasons. He’d forgone the usual training gloves, leather with cut-off fingertips, bare skin trailing up from scarred hands to smooth flesh over his arms, across biceps that seemed to bulge even when he relaxed. All the way up, to the hastily cut-off sleeves of a tank top, flowing so loosely you could see traces of the swirling black ink across his chest with each tiny movement, and you choked down thickly, before diverting your gaze behind him, forcing yourself to look away.
He moved, taking barely two steps until he was behind you, hands settling on your waist and your spine straightened in a gasp. His fingers flexed, smoothing a little further down to sit on your hips.
“You’re not using the right form, you’re slouching because you’re tired and you’re probably sore.” With one hand still on your hip and the other on your stomach, brushing across the bare skin exposed by your cropped raining shirt, he pushed. Your body jerked under his movements, core muscles tightening as he shifted your hips to how you knew they should have been, engaged and active, making it easier to move.
One foot between your own, his boots tapped roughly, kicking your ankles apart, and his knee dragged up along the back of yours, until he was pressing behind, your body dropping down, no longer locked up.
“Like this.” His breath was a whisper over the shell of your ear, baritone voice all but a rumble as he spoke softly. The hand on your hips squeezed, the thumb on your stomach swiped delicately, a caress that lasted barely a few stroked before he was pulling his hand back. “You’re still not letting yourself hold it.”
“We can try again tomorrow.”
“You just need to loosen up a little.” Heavy hands clamped down on your shoulders, your body locking up all over again as he stepped up closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the sweat and earth and mist that exuded from him. Your lungs couldn’t take a full breath, wouldn't take a full breath, eyes fluttering a little as he applied pressure. “Let me help you relax a little.”
His fingertips pressed into your collarbones, dipping under the straps of your tight workout bra, while his thumbs began to rub soothing circles into the tight muscles of your shoulders. His grip was tight but not harsh, rubbing slowly at every knot and pull, and your head slipped forwards, a groan spilling from your lips as he worked at the muscles in your neck.
He chuckled, touch moving outwards just a little, to your shoulders, rubbing there gently, shadows once again pooling around both of your feet now, encasing you in a dark cloud as they rose up your calves. “Good?”
“Good.” You mumbled, his touch sliding down to the tops of each arm, squeezing, pressing, like he knew just where to touch to press out every bit of tension you were holding onto. The further down your arms he got, the closer he pressed, until your back was up against his front, your body seeming to go weak as he worked, roughly scarred fingers moving down and down along your arms until his fingertips were weaving with your own, holding tight as he pulled them back, settling both sets of joined hands on your stomach. “I’m sorry for shouting at you.”
“S’okay. You were only trying to help.” Your mind was foggy, head rolling back onto his arm, a dulled smile on your lips as you sagged back into him, not taking even a second to think about what you were doing. This was your mentor, your trainer, your best friend, and his thumb was slowly swiping back and forth across your knuckles as you let him bear your weight, drowning in his scent with your eyes closed.
He hummed, one hand detaching from yours, your arm falling back to slackened at your side, and you thought he’d pull away, before his fingers were back on your body, your breath hitching and eyes snapping open at the jolt his touch gave you. He dragged his finger slowly, so slowly, up and down your stomach, goosebumps rising on your skin each time he brushed the hem of your leggings, or the seam of your bra. His chin came to rest on your shoulder by the fifth turn, and his fingertip dared to drag a little higher. Bumping over the material he normally stopped at, that same finger dared an inch higher, sitting in the dip just below where your breasts would meet in the middle, daring no higher, before he was dragging down again.
“Az..”
“Shh, s’okay. I got you.” He dragged back up, daring higher again, that finger dragging up until he was pressing over the fabric sitting directly between your breasts, your chest heaving with heavy breaths, and he paused, waiting. Waiting for you to pull away, to give him a sign, to say something. The air was crackling between you both, hanging on the precipice of something else entirely, and you didn’t think you’d be able to speak even if you wanted to. Instead, you opted to squeeze at your still-connected hands, getting one squeeze back, and a kiss on your shoulder.
Then, that finger moved. Scraping across to the side, firmer and firmer until pressing down on one taut nipple, and you arched up into his hand on a shaky breath, a whine. He remained a moment, before his hand was encasing you entirely, squeezing until your head was rolling against his shoulder, a plea you could barely get out on a breath. He left a single kiss on your cheek before freeing his other hand to join, fingers skating up your arm, leaving goosebumps in wake of his featherlight touch, before joining the first on your chest.
He took his time, slow and teasing, leaving kisses dotted along your neck each tie your head tipped a little further back. You were solely dependent on him to hold you up now, back arching against his chest as he toyed with you. He pinched and twisted, enough that you cried out at the jolts of pain, before he was soothingly rubbing once again, distracting you with his tongue and teeth against your neck. When you’d finally stopped panting, he’d be back at it again, winding you tighter and tighter, until your head was spinning, and your gasps had melted into incoherent babble.
“Azriel, please, please, just do something, you’re driving me out of my mind!”
“That’s the point, sweetheart.” He left a particularly rough bite to the juncture of your neck, lapping at it with his tongue when you cried his name, letting it bounce around off of the walls like his shouts at done not so long ago. “We’re trying to get you out of your pretty little head, stop you thinking so much.”
“But- please.” You didn’t even know what you were begging for, too wound up to think properly, too wound up to think at all, and he tugged the love of your ear between his teeth softly, before finally giving in. You felt like you were on fire, panting like you’d run across all of Velaris as his fingers inched back down, lower and lower, taunting as they smoothed along the hem of your leggings.
“I can smell you, sweetheart. So sweet and needy for it, you’re practically rubbing yourself against my cock through all these layers.” You didn’t know when you’d started rolling your hips, and somewhere in you, that strong and stubborn vice was yelling at him, but the feeling of his touch and the pleasure he gave long since obliterated any pride you had left. “This isn’t the first time. D’you know how distracting you are, always walking around in your tight little leggings, smelling so good when you stare at me, thinking I don’t know. Now look at you, letting me put my hands all over you, huh?”
His fingertips dipped below the waistband before you could talk back, before you could protest with anything, not that you would, and you all but trembled in anticipation. You were right there on the brink already; his teasing, his taunting, his talking, it had dragged you so close to climax that you were shaking for it, and when one rough fingerpad pressed your clit, you exploded. Your nails were digging into his arm as you gripped him, the other sliding around your body to hold your squirming form to him, head tossed back in bliss.
The dark chuckle he gave should have humiliated you, should have been enough to shove him off, but you didn’t care, not when that same finger was dipping lower, lower, swirling through the gush of arousal, your panties soaked, and he seemed happy with what he found. A choked groan left him, swirling slowly, finger prodding at your entrance only once, before dragging back up to smear over the still sensitive bundle of nerves he’d barely even had to touch.
His body shifted behind you, planes of solid muscle shifting against your back and thighs before he was kicking your legs further apart, your knees shaking from it, opening you up wider for his touch.
“So fuckin’ wet for me, love. This all mine?” He pressed at that bud again, your hips jerking up into his hand with a soft cry, and when your head fell to the side, twisted to him, his nose brushed your own. He waited, and when no words came from your lips, he pinched at your clit harshly, enough for your knees to give way, only his arm around you holding you up. “Answer me when I talk to you.”
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes, Az, please,” Tears felt like they were lining your eyes, your throat was raw, the sheer intensity of your need was so surprising you couldn't breathe, and when he sunk a single finger into you, his resulting moan was like music to your ears.
“Fuck, you’re grippin’ me so tight. So good, huh, you deserve it. Let me give it to you, let me take away all this tension.”
“I want that, I want that.” Tomorrow you’d be embarrassed, that he’d reduced you to such simple words, to such simple begging, but your hips were rolling down into his hand, a second rippled finger joining his second one and slamming back into you, the heel of his hand rubbing all the right places as he let you ride down onto his fingers.
It was filthy, and wet, and when his lips met your own you swore you’d never felt anything like it. His kiss was sloppy and unhurried and filthy, broken only by encouraging mumbles into your mouth that made you clench even tighter around him, by his own groans in response to your needy whines, fingers slamming in and out of you, stretching you wide, scissoring until the stretch bordered on pain, only for a third finger to join the mix.
When he crooked them, dragging down your walls and finding the spot that made your entire body jump, come alive again, you came. Your eyes squeezed shut, mouth hanging open, toes curling into your shoes so tight they cramped. With a pathetic scream of his name, one you were sure would have reached out between the open pillars and down to Velaris had he not kissed the sound away. A real kiss, his mouth over yours, lips dragging and tongue stroking and this was it. This was the kind of sex you’d waited your whole life for, the kind of sex that made sweat break out on your skin late at night in Nesta’s borrowed smutty books, the kind of sex that made you want to fall to your knees for him.
He rode you through it, fingers slowing down as lewd sounds accompanied his movements, noises that should have been shameful were it not turning you on more. You pressed down, following his retreating touch, clenching around him to keep his fingers right there. Your nails dug into his arm, pleasure bordering on the brink of insanity as nonsense spewed from you.
“More, more, more. Azriel, I need- I need it, I-”
His hand wrapped around your throat, cutting you off with a squeak and his fingers slammed back into you, so roughly you rose onto your tiptoes to follow his hand, and a bliss so intense curled at your lower spine, wrapping all the way up until your eyes rolled back overtook you. “My greedy girl, you want to come again? I love the feel of you on my fingers, can only imagine how good you’d feel on my tongue or my cock. So tight, and warm. Ask again, use your manners, maybe I’ll give it to you.”
“Please, please, give it to me, Az.” You pressed down into his hand, and he let you, doing nothing to help but letting you ride against his fingers, whining and keening at his lack of movement, chuckling as he sucked a mark into your neck.
“You think you can take another one?” He crooked his fingers, just enough to tease, and you thought you might actually be sobbing as need overtook you.
“I can!”
“I like you like this. Needy, begging, so good for me. You’re always so strong, I like being able to take you apart like that.” He repeated it, further this time, and a sob actually did leave your lips. “Tell me it’s only me, even if you lie. Tell me I’m the only one who can do this to you.”
“You are, you are.” Your hips rolled, feeling his cock pressing into you from behind, a choked-off hiss on his lips. “I’m not lying Az, it’s only you.” That seemed to be the trick, because just like that, he was moving again.
His fingers were slamming in and out thumb swiping your clit back and forth, the abused bud throbbing desperately, overstimulated and pulsing and the spark of pain only made everything else so good. You were on your tiptoes, digging into him as you shook, holding onto him, every muscle winding tighter and tighter in your body as it crested.
“Let it go, pretty girl. Give it to me. It’s mine, I want it.” A press on your clit, a slam of his fingers, and you were gone. Vision-spotting ecstasy as you alternated between screams and sobs of his name, slick gush racing from you, making such a mess as he rode you through it all, kissing in a soft contrast to his brutal hand between your legs. “Atta’ girl, let me have it all.”
It seemed to go on forever, nerves firing in relief and bliss, finally unfurling as the orgasm washed over you again and again. You reached up, one shaking hand cupping his jaw as you twisted his head towards you, catching his lips in a sweet kiss. He was smiling, you could feel it against your lips as his tongue swept across your lower one, sucking lightly as he pulled back, leaving you to pant for air as your heart raced so hard it could bruise.
His fingers slipped from you, leaving you to feel cold and empty, slumped against him and watching with wide eyes as he rose three glistening fingers up, slipping them into that same mouth that had been claiming yours seconds ago. He licked them clean, a sparkle in his eye that promised nothing but filth and passion and mind-shattering orgasms as he hummed around the three fingers shoved in there.
You were slumped against him, shadows that had become a violent frenzy in their master’s arousal were finally calming, like a hurricane the two of you had been in the eye of, revealing the same dark sky, the training ring, the abandoned equipment once again.
When you were finally stable enough to stand on shaky legs once again, he left one more kiss on your temple, before pulling back, wiping wet fingers on his shirt and smirking at your shocked stare. “Now, are you feeling better?”
You could only nod, dumbfounded, and watching a spray of dirty sand come up as he kicked the discarded training sword over to you.
“Good, we’re not going to bed until you get it right.” We. There was a promise in his words, one that sent a whole fresh wave of excitement zapping up your spine. “Now, pick that up, and try again.”
“Good, we’re not going to bed until you get it right.” There was a promise in his words, one that sent a whole fresh wave of excitement zapping up your spine. “Now, pick that up, and try again.”
A/N: You are all my valentines this year and I love every single one of you. Here's a little blurb I wrote from my couch in my pajamas (bc I am single and alone on this day of love) let me know if you want the others!!
Azriel
His love language to me has always been physical touch (bc of his abuse as a child)
with that being said this man would plan something elaborate for you because he wants you to feel as special and treasured as you make him feel every single day.
He has been misleading you for weeks about the plans for tonight so you have no idea what's going on.
you come home early (at his request) to find a series of letters around the apartment.
Each is a love letter detailing his favorite moments with you, how you make him feel, and his plans for your future and the letters lead you to your bedroom where a gift sits on the bed telling you to change and meet him on the roof.
its a big box with a bow and inside is an outfit. (obviously it fits you perfectly because Az is detail oriented)
He's waiting for you, in a full black suit looking absolutely delicious.
He set up a romantic dinner on the rooftop of your apartment building. I'm talking intimate table setting, flowers, candles, your favorite meal which he cooked.
after a dinner he would take you to your favorite dessert place for something sweet, the entire time you walk through the city he is holding your hand, rubbing small circles along the back of your hand.
Its a day of love and there are musicians everywhere playing lovely ballads and he just can't resist dancing with you.
He would twirl you around under the cover of his shadows (he knows you don't like the attention) but he needed to see you smile and hold you in his arms.
He gives you a rom-com movie style kiss in the middle of the street
You get your dessert to go (bc Az has so many plans for later when it's just the two of you)
Back at home he draws a bath for the two of you and takes his time stripping down (bc he's a tease)
He undresses you slowly kissing your neck, that soft spot behind your ear, your shoulders, between your shoulder blades and his hands gently roam across your body (but not touching you where you want him to)
He grabs two glasses and lights the candles. "get in love" he purrs and obviously you obey.
He climbs into the hot water behind you, pulling you until your back is flush against his chest
He hands you a glass of wine
(You can feel his cock pressing into you from your position and all you wanna do is turn around and ride him)
You two just talk, and laugh, about everything and nothing until the water is tepid and he taps your thighs urging you to get out.
He towels you off (bc why not? physical touch remember)
He dresses you in one of his shirts and settles you on the couch
He gives you his present (either books bc he knows how happy they make you or weapons bc he wants you to be safe)
You mention you didn't get him anything (bc you both agreed to no gifts weeks ago)
"I can think of something you can give me"
"What would that be?"
"That pretty little pussy" he says with a wicked grin
He pulls you down and eats you out like a man starved
(he does many other dirty dirty things)
When you settle in to go to sleep he pulls you close whispering "happy valentines day my love"
ok but I’m going to need an azriel drabble of him being my good boy begging me to let him come while he turns into a whimpering mess and just-
“look at me, azriel.” he tries, he really does. But as he begins to lift his head, your fist encases the tip of his cock and he drops back against the headrest with a huff. You laugh while admiring the sweat dripping down his exposed neck, “aw, you poor thing. pathetic.” It’s lighthearted, yet you swear his cock throbs in response to your degradation. Taking your hand away startles him. Wide, glazed eyes are immediately on you, “no, please. i’m sorry. please don’t stop. i’ll listen.” Catching his chin between your fingers, you coo “sh..sh..sh.” He finally notices your free hand slipping between your legs to pull your panties to the side. “i’ve got you,” you say, grinding your wet cunt against his cock. A whine tumbles from Azriel’s lips when you sink down on him. “you’re so big, baby. always feel so good inside me,” you moan, walls clenching around him. Azriel’s hips jerk from the feeling, he whimpers incoherently, grasping tightly at your waist. “what was that? sounded like nonsense to me, baby. can’t help you if i don’t know what you want.”
“need’a cum. please,” his breath quivers with each word, “please make me cum.” You begin to move your hips, riding him slowly. “yeah?” Azriel nods, whimpering as he chews his bottom lip. “you wanna cum for me? gonna fill me up baby?” The way he pleads so sweetly makes your insides tingle in pleasure. You’re in awe. Getting off on reducing the notoriously scary and brooding spymaster to begging. “you can let go, cum for me.”
All it took was a few rolls of your hips for him to let go. He releases with a loud groan, spilling ropes of cum into your cunt, coating your inner walls. He trembles beneath you, arms wound right around your body. You brush the sweaty hair from his forehead, cooing gently, feeling sorry for him. Well- almost. You almost feel bad for being nowhere near done with him…
All it took was a few rolls of your hips for him to let go. He releases with a loud groan, spilling ropes of cum into your cunt, coating your inner walls. He trembles beneath you, arms wound tight around your body. You brush the sweaty hair from his forehead, cooing gently, feeling sorry for him. Well- almost sorry. Almost feeling back for being nowhere near done with him…
All it took was a few rolls of your hips for him to let go. He releases with a loud groan, spilling ropes of cum into your cunt, coating your inner walls. He trembles beneath you, arms wound right around your waist. You brush the sweaty hair from his forehead, cooing gently, feeling sorry for him. Well, almost. You almost feel bad for being nowhere near done with him…
All it took was a few rolls of your hips for Azriel to let go. He climaxes with a loud groan, tightening his arms around you as ropes of cum coat your inner walls. He trembles beneath you, worn out and silly. You almost feel bad for being nowhere near done with him…
All smut, no plot. Switch Eris maybe? (idrk what that means also am shit at writing sub Eris - I TRIED THO OK) you know its hard for him to relinquish control ;)
Warnings: all smut, edging :)
Word Count: 7.2K
Eris had a particular affection for replaying the sounds of your moans while he went about his day as High Lord of the Autumn Court.
During training, all he kept seeing was your ass shaking against his hips as he pounded into you from behind. Hell, he nearly jerked himself off during lunch when he started thinking about how tight your pussy was. In the High Lord’s meeting, instead of listening to Rhysand drone on about that Nightmare bullshit, Eris imagined you bouncing on his cock in front of all of them, crying out for your High Lord.
Gods, he couldn’t get enough of you. He’d have you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner - dessert, too. In fact it was for dessert that he usually ate you out until he was satisfied enough to lick the plate clean.
But you were somehow insatiable. Always begging him for more, more, more; you were all over him. In front of the court, watching him sit tall in his throne, long legs spread wide and outstretched before him, you could barely wait until the last Fae had left the room before you’d unbuttoned his pants and sucked him dry. He’d fucked you slowly as you read over his policy changes - he drew lazy circles over your clit until you came, stumbling over the word ‘Autumn’ over and over again. Territorial male.
You even rode him while he had breakfast, and you licked the strawberry jam down his chest while the tea on the tabletop had gone cold.
Almost every night, Eris came to your bedroom run ragged from a day spent as High Lord - between meetings, travel, training, and courtier bullshit, he was absolutely drained. But while the High Lord secretly loved when you babied him, relishing in your time spent relaxing in a hot bath, rubbing his shoulders, and sucking his sweet cock, the male loved to take control of you. There was something about watching you on your knees, holding your ass over his face while you rode his tongue, or watching his cum drip out of your full mouth, that had the male feeling more powerful than when he sat on that godsdamned throne.
You’d spent the day in your bedroom planning your strategy for the upcoming evening. The past few days spent without Eris, leaving you in a cold bed with nothing to do. But you’d already done it all: horseback riding, sword training, baking, even embroidering. The fact of the matter was that you were bored.
And you wanted to try something.
It was the kind of thing you’d seen so rarely in your past however-many-years spent with Eris. A drunken night that left him in near shambles. He begged for you, called out for you - he was just about shaking.
And by the Cauldron, you were determined to make it happen again.
The whole day was spent readying your bedchamber for your mate’s arrival. Being in the Day Court for the past three days would ensure he’d return in a sour mood - perhaps with a slight sunburn, as well. You’d allowed yourself to be pampered; while the high maintenance High Lord was away, there were a few extra hands to dote on you. So you’d been dressed in your laciest nightgown - a short red one - and lathered in the finest salves, the amber and vanilla ones you knew Eris loved so much. The wine had been set out, to which you’d helped yourself to the first glass - something for the nerves, you’d told yourself.
The plan was foolproof, it was designed for the male you knew better than the back of your hand. But one wrong move could set him off, have the roles reversed, and would leave Eris pounding you into the mattress all night long.
Not like that would be such a bad thing.
You had timed it perfectly, you turned on the hot water as soon as your bedroom door opened. You heard him kick the heavy door shut with his boot, the thick chains and locks being drawn over the wood. You knew his routine perfectly, he’d already begun loosening his harness and belts, dropping the sword from his hip to the floor with a heavy clang. He stopped short of the bed, pausing in front of the bathroom door, left ajar just enough so that he could hear the water running.
He leaned forward, peering through the crack between the wall and door. You tried your best to look sultry, calling on the confidence that glass of wine you’d already downed was supposed to give you. You peered up at your mate over the rim of the clear glass, sipping on a bit of the fruity drink as you watched him shift his footing and push the door open. “Getting started without me?” His hands fell to the front of his jacket, beginning to unfasten the buttons that held his many layers together.
You gazed up at him from under your lashes, the closer he got, the more you had to tilt your head upwards to face him. “I grew tired of waiting - ” he stopped so close in front of you that his knuckles brushed your barely clothed chest as he worked down his jacket. “ - My Lord,” you added for good measure.
He smirked, eyeing you up and down like the predator taking in his prey, right before the chase.
A chase he was in for, indeed.
“I couldn’t wait for you,” you whispered, gaze falling as you watched him pluck the wine from your grasp. Your eyes tracked how he abandoned his unbuttoning, taking a large sip of the wine instead. You sensed the switch, picking up where he left off, finishing his jacket and shrugging it from his shoulders, dropping it to the floor behind him. You’d almost cursed the tailor for making it so tight around his broad shoulders - nearly impossible to remove. But when you watched him from afar, dressed in the tightest fitting, most extravagant suits, you’d thanked the tailor personally.
You felt his eyes on you as you continued, fiery gaze washing over you from your hair and face to your dress and cleavage. He let out a soft sight when you removed another layer, watching as your arms pushed your breasts together, moving around just enough for him to peer down the gap the silk left against your smooth skin. You rubbed your legs together, itching to touch the male as you removed his last shirt.
You took the liberty to undo his pants, letting them fall in a pool around his ankles. But you let him kick them away and remove his own boots as you shut off the water and fetched the wine bottle from the counter. You took a hearty swig before you set the spout against Eris’s glass, refilling much more than the appropriate amount. He watched your every move closely, knowing each step you took was calculated.
You smiled broadly before downing another sip straight from the bottle. “Animalistic tonight, are we?” Eris took a drink from the glass, pulling you tight against his hip as the male was now fully naked.
“I thought you liked when I was cheeky.” You could only feign so much innocence.
“A minx is what you are.” His hand fisted at the red lace that barely covered your ass.
“And you’re nothing but a hungry fox.”
His head dipped down to your neck, his breath tickling the outer shell of your ear. “I’ll ravish you like one then.” He nipped the pointed tip of your ear, but you found the strength to refrain from throwing your head back and letting him have his way with attacking your neck.
Instead, you tisked and took a step back, drawing your fingers across your collarbone to drop the thin straps of your gown. “Not tonight, you won’t.”
Eris’s red eyebrows shot up in surprise. But, never a male to argue with an undressing female, he sat back on the edge of the tub and watched as you gracefully lowered your gown, opting to run your hands over your silhouette and across your breasts. He watched with adoration, taking large sips of that delicious faewine. When you’d fully lost your shift, you took two steps closer to him, where you stood directly in front of him between those long legs, with your hands gently placed on either of his shoulders. He tilted his head back to gaze up at you, looking nearly lust drunk already. “And what do you have planned for me tonight?”
Clever male, always knew when you were up to no good. You leaned forward, just to press a kiss to the tip of his nose, ignoring his pursed lips. “You don’t want to know.”
Your mate nearly growled when you stepped back, just as his warm hands found purchase on your hips. But he’d be good and play your little games, letting you work him up - even though he’d been horny the moment he walked into the bedroom, even before he’d seen you in the bathroom wearing the red nightgown.
You took his hands in yours, pulling him up to his feet so you could step into the hot water together. Eris, always unphased by the water, despite the steam that was curling over the surface, made it into the bath first, not without grabbing the wine bottle. You took a second longer, needing to adjust to the heat before you could fully submerge yourself in front of your mate.
You let your back fall against the curve of the tub, relaxing fully as your shoulders fell into the warmth. You dropped your head against the rim of the cool porcelain, huffing a sigh of contentment. By the gods, you could feel his gaze burning into you from across the tub.
You peeked your eyes open, dead on with your assumption, as the male sat across from you with those dark brows furrowed and a slight pout adorning those pink lips of his. Even from where you were sitting across from him, you could see the pink splotched onto his cheeks and nose, where the sun had kissed him a little too much in the Day Court.
“Why are you across from me?” He looked perplexed, so utterly bewildered at why you’d sit that far from him. To be fair, your normal routine was to lay against his chest, let him wrap his arms around you or clutch your breasts. “I want you here.”
You cocked a brow in mock confusion. “On your lap?”
“On my dick.”
He could not be more serious. He thought it was going to be one of those nights. “You can’t get everything you want all the time, Eris.”
You shut your eyes and let your head rest against the edge once more. “When you’re High Lord you can.” His hand found your ankle under the water, and you swore he was burning hotter than normal.
“And what of your High Lady?” You didn’t move, not even a flinch as he dragged your ankle closer to him.
He smirked - you heard it in his voice. “She better know what’s good for her and get over here.”
You were willing to play a bit.
You rose to your knees and waded through the water, stopping just in front of your mate. His legs were bent, spread against the walls of the tub such that your only option was to crawl into his lap. So you hooked your legs around his and straddled his waist, careful to barely touch him as you leaned chest to chest with him. “This is the kind of welcome home I get from you?” He reprimanded, hands falling to your waist.
“I don’t know what you mean, my love,” you whispered, reaching an arm behind him to grab the soap from a stool beside the tub. He watched you with narrowed eyes, eyeing how your hands worked the soap into a lather and began their work across his scarred chest.
“You’re not as coy as you think you are,” he challenged, bending his legs more so his knees poked just out of the water, forcing you onto his lap fully, dick pressed against your ass.
You involuntarily rocked, steadying yourself as you pretended not to feel his cock hardening underneath you. “I think you’ll find later - ” your head dipped forward to press a light kiss in the corner of his jaw, just where it met his neck under his ear. You licked a long stripe up the shell of his ear, leaning in close to whisper the rest of your sentence. “That I am.”
He huffed a shaky sigh, unashamedly grabbing your ass with both hands, trying to rock you against his dick.
But you simply tutted, firmly planting yourself against his toned thighs. You continued across his chest, taking his arm in your hand and cleaning up and down his skin with the other. His eyes were narrowed the whole time, clearly unamused with your current plan of not fucking him. “Not even a kiss hello,” he huffed, releasing an exaggerated sigh when you switched which arm of his you were cleaning.
“Aww my poor baby,” you cooed, unable to hide your smile as you dipped your head down to capture his pouting lips with a kiss. “Better now?”
He shook his head, squeezing your ass and trying to pull you closer. You could stifle your giggle as you met his hungry lips once more. He was clearly more than ready, turning your soft kiss into a smattering of teeth and tongue. You let him have his way with you, just for a moment, since you already knew the state you’d have the poor male in soon enough.
As Eris continued his assault of kisses, you’d abandoned your soap and dragged your hand down his chest. His abdomen convulsed as you slid your fingertip down the center of his stomach and just over the fine hairs that led to the base of his cock. His hands flew up to your face, silently begging for you to stay still and continue on with your path. He tilted your head to the side, and as you gasped for breath, he met you in the middle with another sloppy kiss.
You lifted your hips to let his cock spring up below you to rest on his abs, a strangled sigh escaped the High Lord when you ran just a finger up and down the base. You braced your other hand on his shoulder, nails digging into his hardened skin, resisting the urge to run your wet pussy over his cock instead.
But it was about him and what you’d planned on doing to him later. You wanted him needy.
And by the Cauldron, he already was.
Your fingertip circled the head of his dick and brushed over the slit, earning a gasp from the male. You smirked, the strangled choking sound muffled deep in the back of his throat. He’d smack your ass if he could - the water in the tub doing him no justice - so he opted for a quick prick of fire against your skin.
With a strangled squeal, you lurched forward in his arms, rubbing against him so faintly you had no other choice but to fully stop on his lap and get your momentary fix. He smirked happily, satisfied with his little plan. You rocked your hips just for a moment, his cock nestled so nicely between your legs, brushing against your clit perfectly as you shifted in the water. It slid against your wet cunt perfectly and you could feel your stomach tighten in anticipation.
But with a smack to his chest you lifted, rubbing your pussy for a second before grabbing hold of his dick right at the base. He took a sharp breath through gritted teeth, watchful eyes glazed over in bliss. You worked your hand up and down, palm dragging against the thick vein that ran along the underside of his cock. Your other hand kept you balanced against him, keeping your chests pushed apart so he could watch your breasts bounce as you increased your speed jacking him off.
What started with nothing but a gentle caress, you worked his shaft until you saw his muscles tense and his eyes squeeze shut. You brushed your thumb over the tip of his dick, but before you could coerce him any further, you slowed down your movements.
It was painfully slow, as far as Eris was concerned, so close to just getting off right there in your hand - all gone as you stopped your hand and gripped the base of his dick. “I would have gotten you off after, you know,” he muttered, hands leaving your waist instead finding purchase on either side of the tub, gripping the tub’s rim until his knuckles turned white.
“I know.” You gently kissed his lips, which he felt too angry to return, but in the end he couldn’t refuse. But soon enough you were standing over him, droplets of water falling from every curve and dip of your body. It was moments like that where Eris felt like the luckiest male in the world - to have you all to himself…it almost felt selfish.
But he was a greedy male.
And a confused male, too, as he watched you step out and run a towel over your legs, haphazardly drying yourself enough to slip into the ornate green robe that hung on the wall. You fisted the neck of the wine bottle (Eris never wished he was an inanimate object so badly in his life) and strolled out of the bathroom, offering him a wink. “Come out here,” you’d called from the drawing room.
Eris cursed, pushing himself from the cooling water and creating a bubble of warmth around himself. If he was feeling generous, maybe he’d let you in on his warmth - he knew you had to be freezing in the room with wet hair and barley dry legs. Although he would enjoy watching you shiver, watching your nipples harden as you begged for him to warm you, with his powers or his cock - he’d have to weigh his options.
But as he sauntered into the bedroom, not even bothering to dry himself off, he found you leaning against the back of the couch, robe opened, leaving only the cleavage and a strip of your stomach, all the way down to your cunt, which Eris knew was just begging for him. You gestured to the sofa before you, taking a long sip of wine as the High Lord sat. You planted the bottle in his hand, pulling him backwards, ushering him to lean back against the plush cushion.
With a hearty sigh, he compiled, dropping his head against the back of the couch, letting you run your hands all over his chest. “You need to relax,” you breathed, moving your hands upwards towards his shoulders, kneading away the knots buried deep in his muscles.
His eyes trained carefully upward, he watched your breasts from where you leaned over him. The front of your robe doing nothing to hide anything - he wasn’t sure why you’d even donned it in the first place. He reached his hands up, just grazing the underside of your breasts before you grabbed his hands and placed them back down in his lap. You leaned forward just enough for him to find the perfect open spot to bite the soft flesh, sharp white canines biting into your sensitive breast. He smirked, licking his way over your skin as you straightened, hovering over him once more. “No touching.”
“If you’re going to be doing all this, love, I need a whiskey.”
You smiled down at the High Lord, drawing a hand through his red hair and ruffling it. He watched intently as you crossed the room to the desk, where his liquor was ready and waiting alongside a few empty rock glasses. You offered him the drink as you strolled back to him, trading him for the bottle resting beside his thigh.
With another swig you were back at it, massaging his tender freckled skin. He wanted to pretend he didn’t love it, that he didn’t miss your hands all over him. The High Lord’s meeting that he returned from had really drained him, arguing over policy and having to listen to the useless High Lords brag about their own annoying courts. He wanted nothing more than to come home and have you all over him, doting on his every need, touching him just as you were.
He loosed a sigh, sipping on his whiskey before he set his head back, arms going loose in his lap. With one hand, you took the drink, taking a small sip of the burning liquor before setting it to the side. You continued working out the knots in his shoulders, pressing your fingers into the ridges of his muscles, holding your palm to his hard chest. His rib cage expanded slowly, deflating as your fingertips traced the ridges of his abs, then hitched once more when you traced over the outline of his hip bones.
His hard cock twitched as your finger traced along the underside, stopping just before you could swipe the precum seeping from the tip. He whined, reaching out for your wrist hovering right above his lap. “Please, (Y/N),” he groaned. “Don’t toy with me.”
With a coy smile you rounded the corner of the sofa, dropping before the male, between his parted legs. “Let me have my fun, Eris.” You gazed up at him from under your eyelashes, keeping your brows low to convey the gravity of your plan.
But he leveled your stare, lifting his hand to stroke the side of your face. Warmth leached into your skin, a warning, perhaps. Stop teasing. Eris’s signatured smirk crawled onto those plush lips, as he began fisting his cock in his other hand. “You want to do it yourself?” You whispered, staring at the red tip of his cock, the precum that had been smeared across his entire dick.
He simply shook his head, cupping your jaw, pressing his thumb and fingers against your cheek until your mouth opened in an O. You obliged the male, staring deep into his red eyes as you stuck your tongue out for him.
You swore you could feel your body temperature rise as you watched the shit eating grin sprawl over Eris’s lips. He bit his bottom lip with those perfectly sharp teeth and hissed as he tapped his dick against your wet tongue, slapping the salty tip against your flesh.
You moaned, capturing the tip in your mouth and sucking softly - an act that had the male throwing his head back against the couch. You licked up his dick, leaving a sloppy line of spit falling down to his balls as you dragged your mouth along his cock.
He’d once told you how much he detested masturbating when he’d been called away from the court. It’s not the same - your pretty pussy has spoiled me. It ensured he’d return home from travel pent up and ready to fuck the shit out of you.
But you wanted to take care of him, to have him be the one begging for mercy while you had your way with him. His chest had flushed as his breathing grew shallow, his hand crawling upwards to fist your hair, pulling at it each time your tongue swiped around the head of his cock. “That’s it, (Y/N),” Eris breathed, hips leaving the couch slightly to rut into your mouth. Your thighs squeezed together at his words: the male normally renowned for his hostile demeanor and name calling, with a sweet spot only for you. “Good girl.”
Wait.
He wasn’t supposed to be saying that to you.
You were supposed to be the one dishing out the praise.
While Eris absolutely loved to watch your cheeks flush and cunt tighten around him whenever he offered you praise, there was something about how flustered he got and how desperate the male became when you offered him such affection.
And it was something you were dying to witness.
With a finite pop, you sucked his tip and let it fall from your tongue, meeting the skin of his abdomen with a harsh slap. Eris stifled the shaky breath as he watched you stand.
With not even a second glance, you lifted his nearly empty glass and downed the rest of the whiskey - the last push of liquid confidence to enact the final step of your plan. Your mate watched with nothing more than those drawn brows. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into you - why you’d been pushing everything off, teasing him like so. It wasn’t like you to play such games, and certainly not like him to put up with them.
But you were clearly enjoying yourself, giggling about whatever remaining tricks lied up your sleeve. Eris followed suit, working on the remainder of the wine as he lagged a few steps behind you, watching you like one would a ballet. You strolled to the bed, making a show as you dropped your robe, discarding the glass along the way.
You perched yourself up high on the tall bed, legs spread wide in the manner in which your mate was normally accustomed to. You watched his gaze fall from your eyes to your breasts to your spread cunt, so nicely prepared for the High Lord. “It’s your turn now, my love.”
He smiled, slowing his pace so he could watch the scene unfold before him. “And if I decide to tease you just as you had?”
You ran your hand along the exposed edge of your neck, down between the valley of your breasts, then straight to your cunt. “You won’t.”
Eris cocked a brow, unable to tear his eyes away from you. He smiled at your boldness, though, heart thrumming in his chest - to which he felt warmth down the bond, undoubtedly sent by you. He inched closer, as if stalking a doe, and any movement too loud or too quick would scare you off.
He knelt before you, hands on either of your thighs, spreading you open impossibly farther. From there, he peered up at you, eyes bright with desire, hungry for a taste. Your hand had fallen to his prominent cheekbone, brushing over the thin scar under his eye. “Will you be good for me?” You asked, so quiet you weren’t sure if he had heard you.
But his pointy ears perked, as did his cock, at your gentle tone. Your eyelids nearly shut, watching him drunk with lust, lips parted, begging for a kiss. Eris nodded, a quick up and down, so subtle you would have missed it if not for your hand on his face. “I missed you so much, Eris,” you reminded him, tilting his head up, forcing him to meet your view.
His hands kneaded the flesh of your thighs - gods, he loved touching you. “I missed you, too, (Y/N).” He kissed your calf, working his way up your leg kiss by kiss. Your fingers threaded through his hair, the mess of loose red hair that had been mucked up after the bath. “Missed touching you.” He kissed up your thigh, leaving a warm trail in his wake.
You sighed at the heat. “Will you treat me well, Eris?”
He hummed, low and deep. He sent sparks through the bond, ones that spread from your chest to your spine, from your stomach to your cunt. “Forever, my love.”
“It’s been so long since you’ve touched me.”
His mouth stopped at your pelvis, right where your leg stopped and your pussy began. He smiled, more to himself than you, it had only been three days - four at most. “Let me make it up to you, (Y/N).”
With no further delay, he dove in, starting with a faint kiss to your clit; but the sudden contact had you clutching at his hair. With a few well placed licks, the male began unfolding you.
He ran a wide stripe up your slit with his tongue, tasting everything you had to offer. He worked around your cunt, deciding to trace your opening. His tongue moved in and out, slowly testing the waters. You groaned, missing the attention on your clit and flexed your hips upwards, rocking up and down to fuck yourself on his tongue.
You’d been wet since you’d had the idea to fuck yourself on his dick in the bathtub. But you carried through with your plan, clenching your cunt around absolutely nothing as you touched him, massaged him, sucked his long cock.
Eris’s eyes flitted upwards, watching your chest move with your ragged breaths, and saw how your chest turned pinker the wetter you became. He wound his arms around your thighs, holding you still, nuzzling his face in your pussy. “Please, Eris,” you sighed, pulling at the red stands locked in your fingers. He simply hummed, sending vibrations through your whole body. “Don’t you want to be good for me, my love?”
His cock twitched.
He almost choked out a response, but thought it too terrible to remove himself from you to reply. So instead, he simply adjusted himself, rubbing the tip of his infuriatingly perfect nose against your clit. He continued to press his face against you, slurping at all you had to offer, when you released another strangled cry, laced in nothing but gentleness. “Thank you, Eris.” His name on your lips had him absolutely aching. “Such a good male.”
Gods, had the male been so touch starved, so hungry for praise or even the least bit of acknowledgement his whole life that that got him off? The sweet words on your tongue had him reaching downwards, grasping his throbbing dick.
You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching the male so blissfully at ease pleasing his mate. You noticed his arm shifting, moving up and down as he jerked himself off. It was a sight you normally were desperate to see, but it wasn’t in the plan for your evening. So you pulled yourself away, sliding out of his haphazard one-armed hold, and centered yourself on the large bed. Your legs remained spread as his eyes snapped open, albeit dazed.
“Eris,” you warned, tone low with warning. His red eyes winderned, lips parted in confusion. His arm slowed, eventually stopping as he waited for you to continue. “Come here.”
You moved back a bit more, once he rose to his feet and knelt atop the bed before you. You could make out the glint of precum smeared on his cock and against his abdomen. His dick rocked as he waded across the bed towards you. “Don’t you want to be good for me?” You rested your head against the mountain of pillows, the ones you forbade the staff from changing while he was away - they still smelled of him: cedar and smoke, the fiery bergamot.
He continued until he knelt before you atop the soft mattress, and offered you a nod once you splayed your legs once more. “I’ll be good for you,” he replied, head already sinking lower, offering your clit a wet kiss.
Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. “Then no touching.” You leaned forward, holding his shoulders until he surrendered his hands up to you, clutching your colder, smaller hands in his. You laid his hands on your breasts, giving the male some reward, in which he thanked you by kneading the soft flesh.
Eris, ever the good soldier, continued on, this time focusing on your clit, lapping at your cunt. “Oh,” you breathed, bucking up against his face. “Good boy, Eris.”
Damn, Eris was at it again, as his cock demanded more attention.
His hips rocked back and forth, his curved cock rubbing against the thick duvet atop the bed. You sat back and watched, your mate desperate for reprieve. His frenzy was contagious, as you wanted nothing more than to have him run his cock over your wet cunt instead of wasting it on the mattress.
Eris’s thumb ran over your pebbled nipple - satisfied with his plan earlier to not share too much warmth with you. But you were burning up, writhing in his arms as his tongue flitted back and forth across your clit, sparingly licking across the hole below, just to mix his spit into your pussy - gods, he wished it were his cum instead.
But you watched as he continued to get himself off, mesmerized by the curve of his strong back and his taught waist, the way his ass flexed and cock dragged against the expensive blanket. You hummed, earning the attention of the depraved male. He kept his face buried in the apex of your thighs, hands clinging for dear life on your chest, as his red eyes darted upward. “No, no, baby.” You traced over his knuckles, then his flexing forearms, down his bulging biceps, across his shoulders, and up to the arch of his brow.
He stuttered and slowed his movements. “Sorry, my love,” he mumbled, placing a thousand kisses around your pelvis and across your lips. “It hurts,” he added, eyes pleading at you, peering just over your mound and stomach. He added one more rut for good measure, shifting the comforter below him.
You hummed, taking his hands in yours and sitting up completely. Eris rose to his knees, towering over you, now on the same playing field as you. You tilted your head upward, neck craned back, and pursed your lips. His hands flew to your cheeks, holding you still as he smashed his lips to yours, kissing you like it’d be the last time. He tasted salty and sweet, he moaned at the thought of you tasting yourself on him.
Your hands went to his chest, letting him only kiss you for a few moments, before you sat back and held your hand out over the bed. He laid on his back, legs splayed, hands open and waiting for you to climb into his lap. You tisked, throwing your leg over his chest. “I said no touching, right, my love?” The male bit his lip, nodding. You took his open hands, holding them above his head, pinning them to the mattress.
You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol that had him flushed, but the male was eager to please. You climbed over him, holding yourself just over his mouth. Eris, despite how much more physical he usually was with you, loved when you rode his face.
Absolutely could not get enough of it.
He met your clit immediately, licking softly, easing you back into it. Long, slow licks had you sinking on your knees, falling more and more, until you were no longer hovering, but seated on your male’s face. He sighed a breath of relief, purely blissed out. He only flexed a few times, forgetting that you restrained his arms with yours, but falling back against the bed quickly each time you murmured a soft, that’s it baby, or, his new personal favorite, good boy.
He was so much stronger than you, so powerful after years of training - a battle hardened soldier and High Lord. You’d seen the strength first hand, when he held you high up, fucking you in the air, chest-to-chest with your mate; he’d flipped this position plenty of times before, so you knew he was really playing into it - not halting and taking control, but letting you have your way with him.
He was a male so beaten and broken, all he needed was a little praise.
And by the god’s you’d give it to him.
“Oh my love,” you cried out, leaning over him and pressing your cunt to his mouth. “Yes, Eris.” You called his name like a prayer, calling out for release as he ate your pussy like it was his only salvation.
You’d cum seeing stars, accompanied by the continuation of Eris’s assault on your sensitive clit. His cheeks had to have been hollow, jaw aching as he didn’t stop, licking up everything you offered him.
Your thighs shook, barely able to keep yourself up. The male was not complaining, clutching your hands in his as you leaned your weight mostly on to his caged arms. Your hips rocked at each lick, unsure if your body would even allow for the continuation of the charge, as Eris surely showed no signs of stopping. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Eris. God’s yes.”
He moaned, hips lifting slightly, cock bouncing against his abdomen. You extended a hand backwards, running your fingers delicately over the underside of his dick. A featherlight touch that had him lifting his hips higher, desperate for any friction your hand would offer him. “Please, please, (Y/N),” he moaned, biceps flexing and hips moving.
You took a shaky breath and wrapped your fist around his cock, moving up and down slowly. “Good job, baby. That’s it, my love.” His tongue jutted in and out of you, relishing in the delicious taste of your cunt, and the delectable feeling of your hand on his aching dick.
He moved faster, hips rocking so much you weren’t even moving your hand, just allowing him to please himself as he wished. “You want to be a good boy?” You whispered, threading your free handed fingers through his hair. Eris groaned, humming in affirmation, as his hands flew up to your thighs, holding onto you for dear life. He nodded vigorously, barely comprehending what you’d asked, caught up in the feeling of your hand on him. His precum had been seeping, begging for release, and had been smeared all over his cock, wet sounds echoed off the walls of the bedroom, spurring on his tongue as he continued fucking it in and out of you. “Then stop humping my hand.”
“It’s aching, (Y/N),” his voice cracked. You could have sworn you saw tears in his eyes as you looked down at him, still buried between your legs.
“Then I’ll kiss it better,” you offered, posing yourself on your knees. He was reluctant to let go of your thighs. Perhaps he thought it was a trick, that you’d just edge him again, leaving him with balls bluer than the oceans of the Summer Court. “I promise I’ll make you feel better, my love.”
You shifted, kneeling beside him as you watched him pull himself up on the bed. Eris nearly winced when you’d returned your hand on his dick, thumb brushing just under the aching head, somehow more precum leaked out. Instead of using your fingers to swipe it over his shaft, like you had so many times before, you licked it up, the wide base of your tongue wiping the slit clean.
Eris released a strangled cry. You felt his cock throb in your hand - you weren’t sure how long he’d last. “Please, (Y/N). I’ve been so good,” he whined, staring at you with crossed brows, pleading for more, more, more.
“You have been good, baby,” you replied, fisting his cock faster. “So good - what do you need, my love? You need my pussy?”
He nodded, biting his bottom lip so hard you were sure he’d summon blood.
“You want me to ride you, baby?”
His fists gripped the sheets and eyes screwed shut; his muscled flexed with restraint. You thought it would be too mean to stop rubbing your fist up and down his cock, but as he vigorously nodded, you had no other choice.
“You did so well for me, my love.” You paused only for a moment, swinging your leg over his lap and holding his cock up against your tight hole.
He nearly came as you sat down, both of you sighed out in bliss as he entered you, and you found yourself fully seated on your mate’s cock. You moved up and down, relishing in the feeling of his long cock hitting deep inside of you, spreading you open perfectly. Your clit brushed against the fine hairs above his cock, earning a wince from you and your overstimulated cunt. Eris’s breathing had run ragged, unable to wait any longer for release.
His hands found gripped your hips, fingertips dug deep into your sides as he lifted you up and down, bouncing you on his cock. You clenched around him - fire ran hot through his blood, and his dick warmed you in such a way that you’d felt cold and empty without him. “Yes, Eris, please, please - so good - ” You were choking on your own words, your legs shaking, you couldn’t even move yourself if you’d tried.
But Eris, clearly unable to hold himself back any longer, clearly didn’t mind, as he fucked up into you with seemingly no avail. Your hands and arms wobbled as you braced yourself on his tensed chest, trying to give yourself some leverage - distance from his skin slapping your own raw.
“That’s it Eris - ” Your thighs came together, cunt clenched around him like a vice as you squeezed your eyes shut and saw nothing but bright light. Your mate didn’t stop, rutting into you like the unfinished male he found himself to be.
“Fuck,” you’d cursed, barely able to open your eyes before Eris flipped you, throwing your back against the mattress and pounding into you. You couldn’t convince yourself to be mad about it. He was a strong male, afterall - impossible to be tamed.
His hand raked down your slide, you swore he’d lit you on fire. His touch left an inferno in his wake, sliding down from your side all the way to your ass and thigh, hitching your leg up behind his back.
Eris fell to his knees, hovering over you, slamming his cock in and out of you, crying out to the mother for release. No - not to the mother. To you.
“Please, (Y/N).” His breathing was unsteady, voice like gravel as he cried out to you. Despite the fact your game had ended, he grunted, waiting for your response - not faltering in his movements for a moment. “Please, please, please - ”
“Yes,” you gasped, hands winding around his neck, curling your arms around him. “Come for me, my love.” His forehead was pressed against your sweaty chest, eyes squeezed shut as his hips stuttered. He met your cunt to the hilt, fully seated inside of you as his come shot out in thick ropes, coating you entirely.
He rocked into you, arms winding between your back and the mattress as he held you impossibly closer. He picked up his forehead only to drop it against yours. Gods, he was burning up. The both of you shared come and sweat, melded into one Fae, as mates and more.
He caught your lips with his, the softest of kisses - he didn’t move, didn’t prod with his tongue, no teeth and no biting. He took a deep breath, committing your sensual scent to memory, as he stilled inside of you.
Eris couldn’t have been more relieved - more satiated.
He looked like he could pass out at any moment. You brushed his red hair back, away from where it had fallen over his brow, and tucked the loose strands behind his ears. He pulled his head away, not without dragging a trail of kisses lazily across your jaw and cheek. His head fell against the mattress, and Eris awkwardly leaned on the plush sheets. Your legs were still a tangled mess, his cock still buried deep inside of you.
You stared into his tired eyes, an embarrassed blush crawling up your cheeks. Your hand fell to his cheek and you caressed his smooth skin until a small smile laced his lips. “You’re such a good male.” Thanks for playing.
He let his head rest fully to the side as his eyes met yours. “That’s why I made you my High Lady.”
a/n: listen it's 100% confirmed that azriel has a size kink i know because his shadows told me.
azriel is ridiculously tall. he's used to towering over everyone everywhere he goes, but for some reason, it's different with you. the shadowsinger thinks it's cute that you barely come up to his shoulders and that you have to practically crane your neck just to look up at him. he absolutely loves the height difference.
when you're out, he's constantly tucking you to his side, his arm around your waist while his wing brushes against your shoulder. he especially loves cocooning you from the world within the safety of his wings, knowing that you're his and his alone.
azriel uses any excuse to pull you behind him. whether it's to protect you from actual danger like when you visit the court of nightmares and someone speaks to you in a threatening manner or even when you're out with the inner circle at rita's and some random male tries to hit on you, the shadowsinger won't hesitate going full alphahole and securing you behind him while his shadows wreathe you in darkness.
you'd pretend to be annoyed, craning over his shoulder and reprimanding him for being so overprotective, but you'd secretly love it.
when you first move into the house of wind, azriel purposely moves all of your favorite coffee mugs on the top shelf so that you'd have to ask him for help. he'd watch you open the cupboards, that confused little frown on your face melting his heart, before you sheepishly turn around and ask him to grab a mug for you in your shy, sweet voice. he'd happily oblige and when you stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek in thanks, azriel knows he's absolutely fucking done for.
he'd tease the absolute hell out of you, calling you little one, munchkin, and his personal favorite, shortcake. you'd huff and puff, crossing your arms and trying to look as intimidating as possible which just makes you look even cuter to the point where he's actually chuckling at the sight.
once he gets comfortable around you, he'd flirt endlessly. casually moving you aside, lifting you up, giving you piggyback rides. you'd catch on easily and use that age old trick of comparing hands. azriel would be self conscious about it at first. you noticed that he always liked to hide his hands behind him and one day while you're playing cards and drinking wine, you surprise him by grabbing his hands.
azriel half-expected you to pull away from his touch, but you only lay your palm against his, grinning as his large hand swallows up your much smaller one. he'd watch silently as you trace every swirl of scarred skin, every bump and ridge a reminder of his traumatic experience, every crack and crevice filled with blood and brutality, but you'd intertwine your fingers in his, never hesitating never faltering.
"it's like ripples of water. strong and swift and solid like the sidra. your hands are beautiful, az. just like every inch of you."
and gods, that exact moment is when his harmless little crush on you evolved into something bigger than he could've ever imagined. azriel knew then that he was falling in love with you.
the shadowsinger would surprise not only himself, but the rest of his friends—his family. for five centuries, they have always known him to be reserved and sensitive to touch, but now he couldn't even help himself. he'd seek you out in every room, constantly pulling you closer, wrapping his arm around the back of whatever chair you were sitting on, his wing curved protectively around you and his shadows swirling through your hair and wrists and ankles.
azriel is also a big fan of giving you hugs. he knows it makes you flustered when he picks you up and squeezes you into a bear hug, twirling you in the air while you kick your feet up. you’d feign embarrassment, demanding for azriel to put you down right this instant even though you can’t get enough of his addictive embraces and that night chilled mist and cedar scent that was so distinctly him that you can’t help but wrap your arms around his neck and squeeze back despite your initial protests.
don't even get me started on the cuddling. azriel loves when you curl up against him, head tucked into his chest, arms and legs twisted together while he wraps you in his strong arms. you're so small compared to him especially when his wings cocoon you in completely and he'll hold you so gently, whispering sweet nothings into your ear while he strokes your hair. it's warm and toasty and you're falling fast asleep in seconds murmuring dreamily.
sometimes you'll have nightmares and azriel would wake up in the middle of the night, reaching out for you and cradling you in his arms while reminding you that there's nothing to be afraid of because he's right beside you.
azriel would whisper in the darkness, "it's alright, my love. you're here. you're safe. i won't let anything bad happen to you. i've got you, sweet girl."
you believed every word. you knew this beautiful male meant it with every fiber of his being. "i feel so safe when i'm with you, az. like nothing bad could ever happen when you hold me."
his heart would soar. all his life, he'd been known as the feared spymaster. the ruthless illyrian warrior. the dark shadowsinger, but to you, he was azriel. the male that you fully trusted to protect you and keep you safe.
and gods, he'd be so careful with you. so gentle and restrained to keep from hurting you, but fuck one day you'd decide enough was enough.
things would get heated in the bedroom and you'd be in the middle of a particularly steamy makeout, lips and tongues and teeth clashing as you kiss and kiss like you're trying to crawl into each other's skin. you'd be straddling him in nothing but your bra and panties, the shadowsinger shirtless and panting as you finally bite down on his bottom lip and declare, "stop holding back, az. i want you. all of you."
this results in azriel absolutely losing his shit and manhanding you, flipping positions so that you're pinned down and helpless below him. he'd chuckle darkly, palming your breasts in his large hands, squeezing your thighs and hips and ass, reveling in the way his body covers yours while he hikes your legs over his shoulders.
the shadowsinger would watch your petite form writhing underneath him, delicate hands gripping his cock while you pump him eagerly. then you're guiding him between your legs and he nearly passes out from how fucking tight you are, how snug you feel around his cock as you take him in inch by inch. he'd press down on the bulge in your lower belly, swallowing your moans as his proud length stretches your walls. then he's moving and you're wrapping your delicate legs around his waist, trying to get more, more, more.
and when you guide his large hand over your throat, his fingers splayed out across your soft skin like a perfectly crafted necklace, azriel finds himself unable to hold back. he gives you everything he’s got, rough and hard, soft and sweet, caring and intimate.
from that day on, azriel would take you against the wall, outside the alley at rita’s, on a balcony in the house of wind and even in a coat closet at the river house. it’s so easy to pull you into a room and have his way with you. he absolutely loves getting you all flustered and he thinks it’s cute when you’re an absolute mess for him.
“what’s the matter, little one? did i make you all hot and bothered?”
as much as he loved to tease you, az would also treat you like a princess. aftercare with him is heaven. he’d run you both a bath, letting you sit in his lap while he scrubs your exhausted body, his hands gently shampooing your scalp and massaging all the tension out of your taut muscles. after you’re done he’d wrap you up in a soft, fluffy robe and set you on the counter, kissing your forehead while he gets you ready for bed.
azriel would help you into one of his shirts, smirking at how the fabric swallows your petite frame. there’s something so satisfying about seeing you wearing his clothes. he’s so possessive of you and he loves knowing that it’s his scent covering you while you sleep cuddled up beside him.
he’d chuckle as you greedily snuggle against him, burying your face in his neck and peppering him with kisses as you claim your place in his arms. azriel would kiss the top of your head, stroking your back.
summary: Eris and Azriel put aside their differences to give you the night of your life
warnings: smut, literal porn with no plot, threesome, oral sex (m and f receiving), edging, overstimulation, Eris is sadistic and mean, pleasure dom Azriel
word count: 5.5k
y’all loved my separate Azriel and Eris headcanons so as a happy new years gift, here’s an incredibly spicy threesome fic ;) I will be writing a lot more Eris work, probably not as much Azriel since so many people write for him already but I’ll still try! This fic is not proofread and I’m shit at endings so the last bit sucks but I hope you all enjoy the rest, let me know what you think!
"What can you do with that pretty mouth?" With my daddy Az plz 💙
you said daddy az but I went with a very slight hint of dad!az just to tease you :)
"Whatcha' doin'?" Azriel whispered, large hands smoothing over your hips and around to your front, sitting sweetly over your stomach and pulling you back into him.
"The dishes." You teased, elbow-deep in the suds and bubbles as you rinsed off all the plates, bowls and what seemed like every other piece of kitchenware you owned. Azriel only hummed, pressing kisses along your shoulder. "Did you put the kids to bed?"
"Out like a light, sugar rush became a sugar crash." He nipped lightly at the juncture between your shoulder and neck. You shuddered, feeling his smirk on your skin as his kisses moved a little higher.
"Whatcha' doin'?" You echoed his words from before and he huffed a laugh against your skin, the heat of it making goosebumps erupt along your skin.
"Just kissing my wife." Your hands slipped from the water, dishes abandoned, hands trembling a little as you reached for the towel to dry them off.
"Feels like more than that. Feels like you're using that mouth to tease me for something more." He nipped at the shell of your ear, before spinning you around, pressing the low of your back into the edge of the counter. He smirked, head dipping to brush his nose against yours.
One of his hands slipped up from your waist to cup your chin, thumb running over your lips. "Yeah? What can you do with that pretty mouth?"
"Bet I can use it to get you to do whatever I want." You mumbled, pouting enough that his lips brushed yours when he copied you, humming under his breath.
"Oh, you think so?"
"I do." Your own hands came up, sitting on his hips before smoothing around to his front, nails scratching through his thin tee at the abs underneath. It both amazed and irritated you that he only seemed to get hotter once having kids. "I think you should use that mouth for something much better."
"Like what?" His words were whispered between kisses that moved from your lips to your jaw to your neck, your head falling down and back arching as he kissed his way along the hem of the shirt you'd stolen from him. "Like this?" His mouth shifted, now mouthing over the fabric of your shirt, one arm supporting your back to tip you further, until he was taking one nipple into his mouth through the cotton.
You whimpered, gasping a little as the fabric soaked under his tongue, teeth teasing a bite through the material. "More," The word was panted, desperate, and you pushed at his shoulders as you tried to get him further. He resisted, switching over to the other breast and leaving hot, wet material clinging to your breast as your chest heaved.
"Say it."
"Please, Azriel!"
"Not that, honey girl, say what you want." He kissed his way back up, grinning as he nipped your lower lip, "but I do like hearing you beg, too."
Before you could reply, his mouth was sealing over yours, a hot kiss that made your knees weak, as it had for decades. Every needy drag of your tongue against his own, every stuttered inhale for breath, skip of your heartbeat as he pressed into you more and more.
"Az..." One rough hand dipped under your shirt, sliding up to sit over your ribs, and you felt like you could feel his touch everywhere, all your nerves lighting up. "Get your head between my fucking thighs, before I come just from your teasing."
"I don't know, that sounds tempting. I think I'd like to know if I could make you come just from these little touches." As if to emphasise his point, he slipped one leg between yours, but held your hips firm enough that you couldn't rock down. Tipping his chin up, you dragged your lips over his, finger dragging along his jaw as you kissed him slowly.
As your mouths melded together, filthy, hot, erotic enough to make your head spin, he seemed to forget his own game. His fingers tightened, squeezing your ribs as the other went slack, allowing your hips to start rocking slowly against the muscled thigh wedged there. "Az, baby, I promise.."
"Yeah?" He all but groaned, head tipping to the side so that he could get deeper, so that the taste of sugar cookies and wine was still on his tongue as permanently embedded in your memory.
"I promise.. that if I come in my pants, you're coming in yours."
"Tease." He growled, ripping back to watch the grin on your face grow. "You," he kissed the hinge of your jaw, "terrible," another kiss to your collarbone, "cruel," a kiss to the swell of your breasts as he pushed your shirt up, sinking to his knees, "wicked," kiss just above your navel as he settled on his knees before you, "beautiful thing."
Whiskey eyes were darkened now, swirling as he stared up at you, and you smoothed a hand through his hair. "You sweet," his fingers tugged at the strings on your loose shorts, "handsome," tugging them down roughly, you gasped, his nose dragging across the front of your panties, "pretty man." Your voice trembled, and he pressed a kiss to your covered clit.
Your free hand flew to the counter, gripping until your knuckles were white just for support as his fingers hooked into the side of your panties. "Look at these pretty scraps of silk, all dressed up under my old shirts and your cut-off shorts."
They hit your ankles, pooling with your shorts, and as you stepped out of them he tossed them away. His eyes held yours again, your fingers tightening in his hair, and you knew how much he loved it. You knew how much he loved it when he had you shaking, panting, gasping for him. He loved taking you apart and putting you back together, and you loved letting him.
"God, so pretty for me. So wet, so good, huh?" He pressed a kiss to the outside of each thigh, hands smoothing up and around to grip the back of your legs. "So, spread these pretty thighs for me and let me have my treat now, huh?"
summary; azriel doesn't realise quite how touch-starved he is until he finally gets a little bit of affection, and he loves it.
word count; 17,203
notes; this is in bullet form. it is insanely long. I have no excuses.
so here’s the thing, azriel's love language is touch, okay?
he’s touch-starved and a physically affectionate person, but he got so used to being cast out that he really repressed that side of himself.
even when he didn’t have to anymore, he had a reputation to uphold, by then.
he's the shadowsinger. the spy. the illyrian brute. the night court terror. silent but deadly. moody and quiet. darkness personified.
not really someone who cuddles, y’know?
now, luckily for him, cassian and rhys have different reputations, and they’re both quite physically loving too, so he doesn’t have to let his need for physical attention show.
cassian is constantly touching him, and everyone.
so he really doesn't struggle to get affection there, he can pout and roll his eyes and frown as much as he wants, but he secretly loves it, and cassian secretly knows it.
all the hair ruffling, arms around shoulders that turn into a headlock, and dramatic leaning/falling into az that cassian does? az eats that shit up. loves it.
rhysand also does a lot of touching. he isn't so much an affectionate toucher; he just does it without realising.
a lot of pats on the shoulders, hugs, gently bumping him with a hand, elbow, or hip to get past, rhysand does a lot of general touches, but az loves that too.
mor has absolutely no sense of personal space, like none whatsoever. she plays with his hair when she thinks it needs styling better, and often lays down with her head in his lap when they have deeper chats, and she dances with him on nights out. if he's ever in urgent need of a little physical affection, he finds mor, because she'll just start touching him as soon as she sees him.
with nesta and elain, he often offers to fly them around, or 'winnow' them where they need to go, because they'll always hold onto him, even just for a few seconds.
going out with feyre means she always stays close to his side. if they go shopping, she links arms with him, grabs his wrist to drag him along when she sees something she likes, and often gets herself so tired out that by the end of the day, she is practically falling asleep on him as they walk home.
he realised that if he offers to sit and pose for her paintings, she'll mess with him and rearrange him until he's sat how she wants.
he purposefully never learned how to do his own tie so someone else would do it ("my hands are too big for fiddly little knots, alright?")
he often asks cass to help him do up the seals on the back of his leathers ("hurts my shoulder trying to reach round and do up the claspson these damn things.")
he likes teaching people to train because they rely on him for form corrections, and he likes sparring with rhys and cass because that means a lot of wrestling and pushing and he can have fun with it.
basically, azriel takes any fucking scrap of physical affection he can get, in any way.
and then you step into his life.
it's a cold evening in the middle of the winter, and azriel is pouting a little on the couch, because nobody has touched him all day.
in fact, touch has been declining a lot lately.
nesta no longer needs him to fly her around, she has cassian wrapped around her finger.
mor spends most of her time with emerie, whom azriel actually rather likes, which is worse, because he can't even hate her.
elain has been spending most of her time travelling with lucien, and never needs him anymore.
feyre and rhys spend most of their time with nyx now, which he cannot begrudge them for.
and amren was never particularly touchy, he found solace in not feeling like the only lonely one, but now she has varian, and he hates how bitter his jealousy tastes when he sees how affectionate she truly is.
and he doesn't have anyone.
everyone is chatting, and drinking, and the door opens, and in come lucien and elain.
hand in hand, noses and cheeks red from the cold, and hair a little messy from the wind outside.
behind them is you.
azriel almost feels stupid for the way his heart jumps a little when he sees you, he meets new people every day, he's not supposed to be shy he's supposed to be scary, but he can't help it.
you have the same cold-bitten and wind-ruffled look, and yet, unlike the joy on the other two's faces, you're nervous. terribly so.
his ears feel like they're ringing as he watches elain and lucien get comfortable, your hands still stuck into your pockets and your gaze flickering over the room.
your eyes meet his for a second, just a single second, and you smile, but it's so stunning it stops him from being able to reciprocate it until you've moved on, scanning everyone else before fixing your gaze back on the redhead you arrived with.
he's introducing you, an arm wrapping around your shoulders to pull you into his side, and you chuckle a little as he does.
azriel's skin prickles a little with jealousy. why is it so easy for everyone else to get affection but him? he feels pathetic for even thinking this way.
(Y/N). friend from the autumn court. best friend. the girl who taught him how to heal. sticking around for a while.
he was still processing these words when lucien pushed you forward a little with a hand on your back, your scowl as you stumble, earning a chuckle from everyone else, and a friendly knuckle to the cheek from lucien.
azriel’s gut twists achingly once again.
you go around, you're shaking hands and saying hello, and chatting to everyone, and just before you get to him, elain draws you into a conversation with her sisters. his hand curls into a fist, and he feels like a fucking child all over again.
is he really this worked up over a handshake? a handshake he didn't even get?
phantom feelings of sharp stone under his knees and the whistle of wind between cracks in the cell walls revisit him, when he'd long for the days the healer would come when he was a child to patch up his injuries, because at least the kind old woman who'd tended to him would pat his hair and wipe his cheeks when he cried.
his shadows swirl violently once, twice, as he thinks about it, and he stands before anyone can notice, chugging what's left of his drink and moving to the kitchen to make another.
he's leaning against the counter, staring into his own reflection in the whiskey when you knock at the doorway, forcing him to look up. he settles his usual stone mask over his face, instinct by now, and he raises a brow to prompt you.
"hello. I didn't get a chance to introduce myself before. I was worried you'd leave before I could. I'm (Y/N)."
"indeed, I heard." really? that's the best he could come up with? but the kitchen has started to smell faintly like cinnamon and burnt sugar, and his nose scrunches a little at the overly sweet smell, he's not used to anything like it. it makes it hard to think, it's almost dizzying.
you pause on the other side of the island, a small smile coming to your lips, before daring to take another two steps closer, hand stretching out to him. "I'll be sticking around for a while, the high lord thinks you could all use a permanent healer, something about rough play while you're training," the words bring a touch of a smirk to his lips, and your own smile widens when it does. "and I meet the criteria, apparently."
he huffs a bit of a laugh, slipping his own hand into yours, and every buzzing in his ears goes blissfully quiet, every firing nerve settles, and the smile he'd forced becomes genuine when your hand squeezes around his. you shake once, pulling back all too quickly, and he misses the feeling of touch instantly.
"now, elain says you don't like to be touched," wait, no- “so, if you ever want to get together sometime, we can talk about what you’re comfortable with, where your boundaries lie, that sort of thing…”
your words were tapering off, and he realised perhaps he should say something, or do something, or simply react, in any way at all, but he couldn't. because it was just so gut-wrenchingly sweet of you, and he hated it. he didn’t want boundaries. fuck them. destroy them. cross them all. he didn’t care.
he didn’t say that. instead, what he said was, “uh, sure. I’m pretty busy, but I’m sure we could work something out.”
you only nodded, lingering a second longer, and the tension between you both felt like it was stretching on for ages. you were so close, so close, and azriel clenched his hands by his sides once again, trying to fight the telling frown on his face, and the urge to reach out. your hair looked so soft, he’d bet it was, bet it smelled even more sugary, a smell he was rapidly getting used to, and-
and you were walking away, a small smile on your lips, and something deep and unusual within his chest flared a little with panic, and- “wait-”
was that him? azriel really wasn’t sure, he didn’t remember even thinking about making a noise, it just happened, and then- then you turned around, smile still there, a little more genuine this time.
you raised an eyebrow at him this time, prompting him silently the way he had you. he liked it. he smiled back, just a touch.
“I’m sorry.”
“you haven’t done anything to be sorry for, azriel.”
“I’m being rude.” you didn’t respond, and he sighed a little, shoulders relaxing fractionally from the rigid tensing that was beginning to ache a little. “I just have… a lot on my mind. my apologies, for my behaviour. I appreciate your offer.”
“well, physical healer I may be, but mental health is just as important to me. if you ever want to talk, I make a good listener. and, semi-reasonable advice giver.”
he chuckled, a soft sound that he didn’t often make, but merely the way you seemed to perk up a little at his amusement made him want to spend the rest of his life laughing. he didn’t know why.
“I’m not sure how much I can trust that advice, given you are optionally friends with lucien, who truly believes that toast tastes better when it’s a little burned.”
“I didn’t choose him, he chose me. you share your last cookie with the sad little boy at the playground one time, and you get stuck with the seventh in line to the throne for the rest of your life.” there was a fond smile on your lips, and for just as second, azriel revelled in this moment of quiet amusement with you.
then he remembered the same look of amusement on lucien’s face, when he’d had an arm wrapped around you, and playfully shoved you, and knocked your cheek.
and just like that, all the warmth of your conversation was stripped away, a shocking cold like a bucket of water straight from the Sidra on Starfall night tipped over his head. it reminded him just how lonely he was.
“I’d best get going, but, if you come by training with cassian and I, tomorrow morning, I’ll show you around. I assume you’ll be staying at the house of wind?” his heart was beating erratically fast in his chest, one scarred hand smoothing over the spot as it did. he felt breathless, waiting to see whether you’d accept his offer, waiting to see whether you’d reject him. azriel couldn't remember the last time he’d been this nervous.
“I'd like that, very much.”
“until tomorrow, then.”
you murmured something in response, but his heart was beating too fast, his blood rushing too loudly in his ears to be able to make it out. he simply nodded, hoping it would suffice, and left. he must’ve drunk a lot more than he thought.
hours later, when he was laying cold in his bed, his shadows informed him of your arrival. giggling in a somewhat tipsy state, you’d arrived mere seconds before cassian and nesta had landed on the balcony, one hand gripped tightly around lucien’s as he winnowed you in, wobbling slightly in your steps.
your friend had kissed your cheek goodbye, as had elain, even cassian had kissed your knuckles dramatically as nesta rolled her eyes and suppressed a smile of her own.
his bed felt like laying on a slab of ice. alone.
however, exactly one hour and twelve minutes into training, which was exactly thirty-eight minutes after azriel had officially given up on your arrival, you came.
his shadows swirled excitedly, so much so that cassian stuttered a little in his movements as they began to block his sights unintentionally, and the sweet smell of cinnamon and burnt sugar reached his nose once again, flooding the room a moment before you walk in.
he’s distracted, which is ridiculous, he never gets distracted, and he would have chastised himself for it if the blunt side of cassian’s wooden practice sword didn’t do it for him.
azriel’s vision spotted for a second as the wood collided with the side of his skull, teeth rattling, and he hissed out a curse, glare as cold as winter night’s shot at his partner when he began to chuckle.
“something got you all wound up, brother?”
“bite me.”
“not even one whole day and you boys are already putting me to use, huh?”
there was just something about you this morning. azriel really couldn't place it, but you were wearing a smile that made something in his chest clench a little, and as though you could read his thoughts, your hand lifted, rubbing gently over your own chest, over your heart.
“this? this is nothing to worry about, we’ve seen much, much worse.”
you merely rolled your eyes, stepping towards them both and bringing yourself further into the room. you beckoned azriel forward, and he was moving before he even knew what he was doing.
cassian scoffed good-naturedly, turning away to practice his swings against a wooden dummy, and azriel sank down, sitting against the edge of the ring as you came to stand before him. he spread his legs a little, letting you get that little bit closer, and you took it.
he blamed his breathlessness on the intense training he’d just done, not the smell of you overwhelming him like sugary treats and starfall spices.
“really, it’s nothing to worry abou-”
you raked your fingers softly through his damp hair, fingertips gently soothing along his scalp for bumps.
he choked, words dying in his throat on a pathetically breathy exhale that would have embarrassed him had azriel not been feeling pure ecstasy.
your other hand joined it, raking through his hair, pads of your fingers pressing and soothing along his scalp, and azriel’s world went dark. eyes closed, rolling to the back of his head and shoulders sagging a little as you examined for bumps. he almost wished cassian had hit him harder, just so you’d find something.
“is this okay?” your words were murmured, a soft breath for only him to hear, and azriel couldn't even form words;
“mhmm..”
nobody had ever touched him like this, run their fingers through his hair, and when your nails scratched lightly over his scalp before you pulled back, he barely bit back a whine, body feeling like melted butter.
you patted down his hair, he could only imagine the mess it had become, and it took more effort than most battles did for azriel to compose himself. to close the place where his bottom lip had parted from his top to near-pant, to open his eyes and hold them more than a sleepy half-lid, to straighten his shoulders and find some strength in his spine to sit properly. and most of all, to not reach out and beg you to do it again.
the sound of cassian’s grunt as he trained snapped him back into an awkwardly rigid position, jaw tensing a little.
“no bumps or breaks, you’re good to go, shadowsinger.”
“told you so.”
your eyes rolled again, in that gentle and fond way, and he hoped he would see it more. he liked making your eyes roll.
“next time, you need to defend your blind spots better.”
“are you giving me fighting advice?” once again, the smile he gave you was real. two within one day, you were making him break his mask at record speeds. it was concerning, if anything. that was what he chose to call it, anyway.
“you think I don’t know how to fight?”
“I know you don’t know how to fight. I can tell.”
“you can tell? how?”
“you have no grip strength, when you shook my hand last night, no way you could pick up a sword, it would drop right out of your hands. you tripped over your feet on the way over here, and you have zero awareness of your own blindspots.”
you gaped at him, and he couldn't help himself. he lifted a hand, pointer knuckle tucking under your chin to close your dropped jaw, and you huffed at him. his knuckle dragged along your skin for a split second, before dropping away, and he made a fist on his thigh, restricting any more movement. he was being far too needy and indulgent of his desire to touch, lately.
“maybe I didn’t want to hurt you by gripping your hand with my superior grip strength.”
“uh-huh.”
“and maybe I’m just clumsy.”
“I’m not disputing that.”
“and how would you know anything about my blindspots?”
he shrugged, smirking a little at the tendrils of black curling over your shoulders, one of them wrapping neatly around the ends of your hair, pulling them silently off of your shoulders, into a ponytail you had no idea was being formed until the darkness tugged lightly.
you gasped, the shadows skittering away like they were snickering at your shock, and azriel actually bit at the inside of his own cheek to contain his grin.
what was wrong with him lately? maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing there would be a healer around so much, perhaps he needed a check-up.
“alright, fine,” you had a look in your eye, one that he had absolutely no idea what it meant, and for the first time in his life, that confusion seemed to thrill him instead of terrifying him. “then teach me how to fight.”
“why on earth would you want to learn how to fight?”
“well, if I’m going to be out and about playing in the thick of it with you boys when you get yourselves all scratched up, it would probably be useful to know at least a little about defending myself.”
azriel hadn't thought about that. about all the danger he got himself into, about all the danger you’d be getting into. something cold settled in his chest, tight and gripping, making every breath feel a little rough.
he choked that down, too.
“what would I get out of that deal?”
“I’ll heal up all these little injuries, the bothersome ones you always brush off.” he raised a brow, breath pausing in his throat as you reached for him, soft fingers wrapping around his wrist, bringing his clenched hand up. he’d been trying so hard not to touch you, but here you were, touching him.
unwrapping each finger carefully, you smoothed them out, his palm flexing and twitching a little at the featherlight touch you brushed over the scarred flesh.
“like this one, a little paper cut, on the tip of your finger.”
brushing your thumb over the pad lightly, he watched in awe as the tiniest fleck of glowing golden light shone from it for only a second, before the injury he’d made only this morning was gone.
it didn’t bother him, those kinds of wounds may as well not exist at all, that kind of pain was one he was so used to it was a sensation like breathing or walking at this point, but it didn’t matter. he’d take a thousand paper cuts of you’d hold him that softly and fix them that tenderly again and again.
you were offering him a deal, a lot of touches and attention, and he tried not to scream his agreement, and show his enthusiasm too much.
“how’d you know that was there?” he pulled his hand back, your own hovering for a second where you’d held his much larger one, before dropping to your side.
“I sensed it, when I touched you, looking for your head bump, I picked that up instead, it’s the only injury you’ve got. physical, anyway.”
a tense moment of silence followed your words at the implications of your final sentence.
“you’ve got a deal. tomorrow morning we begin. but first, I believe I promised you a tour.”
he stood, putting a reasonable amount of distance between you both. he needed to remember who he was, he needed to remember who he was supposed to be. he couldn't afford to let his own weakness and desire pull at him anymore.
you took the hint, not getting nearly as close to him as you followed him around.
azriel was equal parts relieved and disappointed by it.
for months, the need got worse and worse, the tugging in his chest, the empty loneliness, the phantom feelings of touches he didn’t have.
he expected his urges to touch to go down, blamed it on the cold and the winter, blamed it on all the changes taking place, blamed it on recovering from the war. azriel blamed it on everything he possibly could, hoping it would go away.
every time you trained with him and cassian in the mornings, every book exchange in the library, every weekly checkup that you’d forced them to start doing, it all tortured him, because he was now fixating on every little thing.
except, it didn’t go away. it stuck.
azriel found himself longing more and more for the touches that seemed to be getting less and less frequent. or, perhaps they weren’t, and he was simply needing them more, and he was noticing the lack of them.
he had no idea why your arrival had sent him spiralling downhill, but he was struggling to patch up every crack that was beginning to break in his façade.
even his shadows were struggling, reaching out toward you in every room, searching all corners of it when you weren’t there.
everything just became easier when he started avoiding you entirely.
he skipped a couple of training sessions, an excuse about needing to catch up on work, and you didn’t question it.
he took meals in his bedroom, or after he was sure you’d already eaten, just to avoid you at the table.
he hid every cut and wound, and for the first couple of weeks, you berated him playfully, joking that he should have come and found you to fix them. it took everything he had not to smile, to respond, to prolong these sessions where your fingers were skim gently over his skin, shimmering gold sealing up small cuts and all the bruises, fixing every ache.
after a while, you just stopped. every near-silent check-up or barely-friendly greeting when you saw one another making something cold fill his chest.
but at least that sharp coldness within him was better than feeling completely empty.
it had been almost a full year when your first chance to truly go away with them arose. the air was cold enough that your breath clouded in the sky, snow was sticking to the ground, and there was a permanent layer of ice settled over the top of the Sidra.
it should have been easy, and yet everything that could have gone wrong, did.
the meagre forces of you, himself, cassian and nesta hadn't been nearly enough.
you were terrified, azriel was in and out of consciousness, being half-dragged along through the snowstorm by cassian, who winced every time he put their joint weight on his right foot, and nesta was clutching at her side.
there was blood clotted into your hair from a cut along your forehead, a bruise blossoming on your ribs and you were sure an arrow had caught you across your thigh, but it was so cold, you could barely feel any part of your body anymore.
flying out wasn’t an option, your only teammate who could winnow had been out-cold for nearly an hour, and the inn had been a blessed relief when it had finally come into view.
the patron hadn't even flinched when the four of you had stumbled up to the counter and demanded three rooms, blood dripping onto the floor between you all, snow and mud trekked up the stairs with keys clutched in hand.
“cass, start a fire, nesta, go get as many bowls of snow as you can.”
they did as told, and you began to peel back the layers of protective leather and armour azriel wore, laying haphazardly on the bed where cassian had left him as they scurried.
blood was smeared across skin that had gone pale, and bile rose in the back of your throat as you took in the wounds before you. they were like nothing you’d ever seen.
stripping off the top layer of his leathers, they made a sickeningly wet sound as they hit the wooden floorboards, blood spilling out around your feet in a puddle, soaking into the bedsheets that would never be truly clean again.
cassian hissed as he returned.
nesta’s hands shook as she began placing bowls of snow into the fire to heat.
neither could stomach staying as you began to stitch up the wounds.
over six hours later, azriel was healed and you’d seen to nesta’s cracked ribs, your attention moving to the final warrior who needed help, and ignoring the painful drag of every footstep you took to follow him.
cassian was laying a patched-up azriel onto the bed in the spare room, jaw clenched so tight you thought his teeth would crack.
“let me look at your ankle, cass.”
you sunk down onto the edge of the bed patting the space next to you once his arms were free of his friend, and he shook his head.
“it’s fine, nothing to worry about.”
“let me look.”
“no.”
“cassian, let me look at your ankle, gods dammit!”
silence filled the room around you both, and for a second you worried your yell would wake nesta, sleeping only on the other side of the wall.
he set himself down, lifting his leg up, and placing his ankle into your lap.
swollen shades of yellow and purple and blue, his ankle had swollen up so wide it was almost the thickness of the rest of his leg, and when you pressed it, his entire body trembled.
“s’gonna hurt a little bit, but only for a second.”
“what about you?”
“what about me?” you mumbled, fingers smoothing over his skin, a soft glow emitting from your hands as you worked.
cassian groaned, eyes squeezing shut as you began to repair the damage.
“I can tell you’re spent. I came to check on you, when you were healing az. you didn’t look so good. does rhysand know what healing does to you? does lucien? does anyone?”
your motions paused, only for a split second, before you were soothing over his skin, hands tightening around him as the swelling began to go down.
“they know. it’s just, I’ve never had to heal something this big before, he was practically dead. but, I’m fine. really. keeping him alive long enough to get here took a lot out of me, but it’s over now.”
‘fine’ was the best you could do. ‘fine’ was a grievous exaggeration, but cassian didn’t need to know that.
your head was pounding so hard you saw spots, your hands were shaking so violently that when they were no longer on cassian’s leg, you sat on them to hide the tremor. you’d sat down to heal cassian’s ankle because you’d nearly collapsed trying to follow him in here, legs giving way underneath you.
“you’re all done.”
he stood, testing his weight on his foot, letting out the same huff of amusement he always did when you healed him up so fast, no matter how many times you’d done it.
“where are you going to sleep? not in the other room, I suspect.”
your nose wrinkled up, the metallic smell of azriel’s blood was still so heavy you were surprised it wasn’t leaking through the walls, the fire in that room still burning from the ruined sheets you’d tossed in to dispose of.
something, something had lurched while you’d been tending to him as cassian and nesta fussed, and the idea of going back into a room where you’d fought just to keep him alive made your head spin.
“I’m going to stay here and keep an eye on azriel. if he makes it through the night, he’ll be fine.”
the truth was, you were nowhere near done. just because you’d stabilised azriel didn’t mean your job was over. it just took a little pressure off the clock. his skin was still too clammy, a fever fighting high, his heart rate was too weak and his skin still too pale. he was a long, long way from mended.
cassian looked dubious, sleep was crawling at the edge of his consciousness, you could tell from the way he swayed on where he stood, shoulders hunched and eyes drooping.
“besides, we’re safer in pairs. go and be with nesta, I’ll be here, we’ll meet up in the morning.”
he finally gave in, the mention of his mate making his head snap to look at the wall she lay on the other side of, like she’d tugged subconsciously to convince him to do as told. you wouldn't be surprised if she had.
the door closed behind him, and you were left in a cold, dark room, with only azriel’s rattling, wet breaths to let you know you weren’t alone.
you used what little strength you had left to make a fire, tugging the sheets out from underneath azriel and hanging them before the hearth to warm, before sealing them around his body.
you stripped off what you could of your own bloody leathers, washing both sets with cold water in the empty dishes of snow you had left, before hanging those, too, up to warm and dry.
settling in beside him, pain like you’d never known flared throughout your entire body as you called on your gift once again.
settling a hand on an unconscious azriel’s shoulder, your eyes closed, beginning to search through for every internal wound, stitching nerves and muscles back together one by one.
you were sweating, but freezing cold, throat raw and eyes stinging but no tears left to give as you gasped for breath.
you kept the fire going, his fever broke, and at some point during the night, azriel began to regain his strength.
he never woke, but you weren't aware you had dozed off yourself beside him until you were startled back awake.
he had rolled over, shuffled weakly across the bed until one arm had slung its way over your waist, cheek pressing into your shoulder, the cool tip of his nose was pressed into your neck.
he was still cold, no matter how many times you restocked the fire to keep it going, searching out for your body heat without realising it.
you lay still for a while, to see if he would wake, but he didn’t.
instead, you fastened an arm around his shoulders, the other threading lightly into sweat-soaked hair, still damp from where you’d tried to clean him up, soothing him lightly.
you used what strength you had left to make sure he stayed in a deep sleep, pain-free and unaware.
nesta was the one who woke you in the morning, looking a lot better than she had when going to sleep the night before, and you panicked a little as you stretched out to find yourself alone.
“good sleep, huh? I’ve been trying to wake you for five whole minutes.”
“where’s azriel? cassian?”
her eyes rolled, but you’d learned her tells, knowing all of it was in love, not hate. “they’re downstairs, paying extra for the ruined sheets and the rooms. storm cleared, we’re ready to go home, so get up and get dressed.”
you shifted, arms barely able to pull yourself up, and nesta’s eyes narrowed a little as you lay back down.
“can’t I have five more minutes? I was having a good dream.”
“you can sleep in your own bed when we get out of this godawful inn and back to velaris.”
“fine, I suppose you’re right. I’ll meet you downstairs in five minutes.”
she left, and five minutes was more like fifteen as you struggled to even stand up, never mind get dressed, and finally, make your way downstairs to meet them at the entry of the inn.
“‘bout time, I’m waiting on you to get home for a good meal.”
“my apologies, queen nesta.” she grinned, and your gaze moved to the other two. cassian was studying you, gaze flicking to your hairline, and you lifted your fingers to touch the sensitive skin there, still raw, the cut you had forgone to patch up even last night. your sharp glare kept him silent about it.
“the flight shouldn’t take long, and the skies are nice and clear now. we’ll be back in time for lunch.” to emphasise his point, cassian’s stomach rumbled, loudly.
he took off first, shooting up into the sky with nesta and leaving you standing in tense silence with azriel.
“az, how are you feeling?”
“fine.” he almost growled the word out, and your brows furrowed.
he hated doing this to you, the look of hurt that had flickered across your face, but he had to. pushing people away, keeping them out, he was good at that, he was used to it, and it made everything easier.
letting you in, it was far too painful, you would see every raw and damaged and broken part of him, and he wasn’t ready to face that.
when he’d woken up wrapped in your arms that morning, for a shocking second, azriel had felt at peace. for the very first time in his life, he had felt utterly content. like he didn’t regret anything, like he didn’t want anything to change, like he didn’t want a distraction.
and it had terrified him so much that he thought he might be sick.
“you’re a sleep cuddler.” apparently so. you were trying so hard to lighten the mood, and he wanted nothing more than to sink into that, but he couldn't. he choked back the lump in his throat, gaze flickering to the sky for a second, avoiding your gaze.
“I trust that won’t happen again.”
you went unnaturally still, gaze turning sharp on him as you stared, and he still couldn't bring himself to meet your eye.
“that’s all you have to say? that’s it? I heal you up, I take care of you, an-”
“that is your job, is it not?”
the laugh you gave him was cold and harsh. it made him feel like his chest was closing up, freezing over from the inside out.
“right. yes. my job. well, we should get going, I’m rather tired.”
he’d pushed it too far, too far too far too far, his shadows were almost biting at him as they whipped around his body, chastising him for his behaviour, his tone, his every decision.
“(Y/N)-”
“message received, azriel, loud and clear. I want to go home now, please.”
look up look up look up, meet his eye now, he was ready, he wanted you to. you wouldn't. you stepped closer, allowing him to pick you up, before soaring into the sky.
it was one of the worst flights of his life, and tense few hours, the silence azriel normally revelled in felt like it was suffocating him. he could feel the warmth of your magic, even now, swirling around you both to block out the chill until you were landing on the balcony, only moments behind cassian and nesta.
the rest were lined up, waiting for your return, welcoming you back with hugs and shoulder pats, and a table full of food waiting.
hurt.
azriel felt it as his shadows reappeared, catching up to him as he tucked his wings into his back, letting you down slowly.
hurt.
who? his gaze flickered over everyone that was lined up, scanning his friends for injuries.
hurt. hurt. hurt.
you stumbled, knees buckling, and had you not been standing so close to him when you did, you’d have hit the floor before azriel had caught you.
his shadows swarmed around you, until you were barely visible to the rest, and you sank slowly to the ground, letting azriel help you.
hurthurthurthurth-
his shadows recoiled as the heir of day stepped forward, dropping harshly to his knees to cup your face. your skin had paled, your eyes fluttering more closed than open, and your lips were parted with shallow breaths.
“what happened?”
“m’jus’ a little tired, that’s all.”
lucien smoothed a hand over your hair, letting you slump forward until your face was pressed against his shoulder, one hand clutching weakly at his shirt.
“you’re freezing, and you’re so shaky, why can’t you-” he paused, the hand petting your hair moving to rest over your forehead as he searched for something. “you did burned out.”
“I’m fine. I just need some sleep.”
“you’re not just-”
“lucien, please.”
he stared, waiting a second, before the air around you both folded, and the space at azriel’s feet was empty. his shadows exploded, a representation of his own panic, before feeding back to him a second later that lucien had laid you in your bed.
“what was that?”
“she did too much,” cassian mumbled, hands wringing in front of himself, and rhysand rubbed his brow.
“how bad was it?”
“bad.”
“what. happened?”
he was ignored as cassian shrugged at their high lord, unsure where to start.
“we got caught off-guard, more of them than we could possibly handle. ness got hit first, az covered her, but it was too much. he- it was bad. I’ve seen soldiers die from a lot less. he would have died. but she held him together. I don’t know how, she just did. enough to make it to an inn, she fixed us up. stayed up with az the whole time, I could hear her moving around all night. I knew she was drained but I didn’t know it was this bad, if I did, I would have.. I would have.. done something. I wouldn't have let her help me too, I would have-”
cassian cleared his throat, walking away with a nod and a promise to debrief rhysand later. nesta followed.
“you knew this would happen? you knew she could burn out, that it would be this bad? you knew, and-”
“I knew, because she told me. she acknowledged the risks, she made the decision. she chose to look after you, she chose her own actions. she looks after us, and now we will look after her.”
his tone was final, and azriel’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt.
they left, one by one, they all left him on the balcony alone, to tend to the rest of their duties.
you’d pushed yourself to the brink for him, through agony and worse, and he couldn't even bring himself to crack open a little of the box inside his mind he worked so hard to keep sealed shut.
that was the moment azriel decided it was going to have or change.
you didn’t wake for two days. two full days azriel spent swimming in guilt and sadness, a feeling he couldn't place filling his every thought, making it hard to eat, or sleep, or even think.
he felt.. nothing. absolutely nothing.
two days, and on the evening of the third day, while everyone was sitting at the dinner table chatting, and azriel was emptily pushing perfectly good chicken and vegetables around his plate, you emerged.
“hello.”
azriel felt like his heart started back up in his chest.
“can you spare a plate? I’m fucking starving.”
lucien laughed, his head dropping for a second as elain grinned, patting the seat next to her that had been empty for days, the one opposite him, that had been taunting him.
slipping into it, cassian was quick to pile you up a plate, with more food than you could possibly eat, passing it along down the lines as you sunk into the chair next to him.
accepting the food, you settled back into everything like nothing had been wrong, like you hadn't scared azriel half to death, like you hadn't left him feeling adrift, untethered, lost, and he needed to talk to you, needed to make it right-
his stomach rumbled, clenching almost painfully. finally, he thought. he was fucking starving.
he would talk to you after he’d eaten.
the first chance to approach you came when you were sitting out on the balcony, still a little pale, still a little shaky, with a thick blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you stared up at the sky.
he sat down next to you, silently, trying to find as much comfort in the stars as you had, but his thoughts were spinning too fast. in the darkness, he let his shadows free a little, let them crawl underneath your chair, over the back, around your feet where you couldn't see.
“the skies never look quite like this in autumn. I like it here.” your words were steady and calm, nothing like his heart, and azriel twisted his head to look at you. you were not looking at him.
“I’m sorry.”
“you have nothing to be sorry for, azriel."
he felt like he was living everything over again, you were strangers once again, and that thought made every other one freeze inside of his head, a spotlight focus on that.
“please, don’t shut me out.”
you looked at him now, studying him like a journal, brows furrowing a little.
“I never shut you out, azriel. you are the one who shut me out. you made it very clear that you didn’t want my touch, nor my friendship, nor even my company. it’s okay, I don’t expect everyone to always want my companionship, but next time, at least a ‘thank you’ for saving your life would be nice.”
“thank you.” the words tumbled from him like water spilling from the sky when a storm broke. “thank you, for all of it. for staying up to make sure I made it through the night, and for.. for caring.”
you help his gaze, nodding once. “you’re welcome.”
you looked back to the sky, ignorant to the shadows crawling higher and higher up, languidly, begging him to let them curl around you, still fearing for your wellbeing.
“I like to be touched,”
he spoke the words without breathing, without looking at you, still staring at the stars, even as he felt your attention move to him. it felt like a weight being lifted off of his chest, but it was terrifying, a confession spoken now that he could never take back.
“I like to be touched. I love being touched, but it’s not who I am. I am not supposed to be.. soft. I’m supposed to be strong, and powerful, and it terrifies me that I can be so- that I need it. I love being touched, but I can’t ask. They can’t know. I can never tell them.”
you didn’t ask who they were, and you didn’t ask why. somehow, he knew that you just understood.
“you scare me. you scare me more than anything, because for all of my life I’ve been just fine, centuries suppressing this need and managing it all, and then one year ago you come along, and everything changed, and I don’t know why.” the more he spoke, the lighter he felt, some deep and suffocating binding was finally loosening within him.
“perhaps 500 years of pretending not to need attention, not to need love, has finally started to take its toll.”
you were right, he knew you were, but it was still a hard truth to swallow.
“you know, we all have our love languages.”
“our what?”
“love languages.” there was a soft smile on your face when he finally braved looking at you, and it made him feel secure, like his confessions were in safe hands, like for once, he didn’t have to carry every burden on his own. “there’s five.”
“five?”
“yes.” you twisted a little more toward him. “rhys and feyre, they’re the same. they just want to provide for the people they love. perhaps it’s why it’s so easy for them to love one another. both of their love languages are similar. rhys’.. his is gift giving. he shows you all his love through what he can give you, buy you. he houses you all, spoils you constantly, makes sure you are always provided for. he does it sneakily, like buying cassian’s favourite cookies or making sure there are always fresh flowers for elain.”
“what about feyre?”
“hers is acts of service. she spent years providing for her family, she went through hell for tamlin, and then through war for rhys. she was willing to give everything for them all, she continues to do so. elain, hers is quality time. when lucien began inviting her to the spring court, they used to do nothing but sit or walk in silence for hours in the gardens. or in the living room, when he’d read while she learned to knit.”
“what about nesta? she doesn’t fit any of those boxes.”
“no, she doesn’t.” whether you’d noticed them or not, you didn’t say, but azriel’s shadows were beginning to crawl up and over you, weaving around you in lazy swirls as you whispered quietly between yourselves, to the background noise of your friends in the house. “nesta’s love language is words of affirmation.”
he didn’t need to question it, that made perfect sense.
“yours is touch. everyone has a love language, azriel, and it’s not something to be ashamed of. it’s simply who you are.”
somehow, you made him feel alright with something he’d spent 500 years hating about himself.
“what is yours?”
“technically, I don’t actually need to touch anyone, to heal them. I just have to be close enough to feel their energies.” he processed the words, heart skipping a beat a little at the meaning. you were the same as him. “just think about it all.”
you stood, taking the blanket from your shoulders and leaving it folded over the back of the chair you were leaving behind.
as you walked past, you paused, placing a hand on his shoulder, and shadows rose, wrapping like bracelets around your wrist as you squeezed lightly. “if you can’t tell them yet, that's okay. but if you ever need someone, you can come and find me. you’re hurting, az, and it’s my job to keep you all in one piece. if holding you when you need it is something you want, then you know where to find me.”
he couldn't speak, only nod, because he wasn’t sure he could get any words out around the lump in his throat.
you left, leaving his head somehow both spinning and utterly empty.
he waited, mulling over your words, whispering them to himself in the dark, until it became too cold to be comfortable, anymore.
almost everyone had retired, only cassian, mor and amren still awake, drinking quietly in front of the fire, but he didn’t feel like joining them.
no, he knew where he truly wanted to be.
the clock read over two hours since you’d left him, you’d surely be asleep by now, and azriel tried to pretend like it wasn’t disappointment filling him. stop being needy.
he was making his way to his own bedroom, taking the long route, when he passed your door. light was still spilling out from underneath it, golden glow from the crack between it and the floor, and azriel felt like his feet were rooted to the ground.
he could feel his heartbeat, right down to his fingers, and he clenched them into a fist to stop it.
he knocked. he knocked, he didn’t know what possessed him to do so, and maybe it wasn’t too late to just leave, but then there you were;
standing before him, pretty nightgown and a cardigan, hair a little ruffed from the loose way you’d fastened it back, and you didn’t look at all surprised to see him.
“az. would you like to come in?”
“more than anything, actually.” he breathed the words weakly, no longer having any embarrassment left to give, and he stepped over the threshold, letting you close the door.
your fire was lit, logs crackling quietly, but he couldn't smell them, instead, he could smell the candle you had, winter spices and berries, a sweet combination, but not as sweet as your smell. your sheets were tossed askew, clearly having been used, and a book lay on the bed, page marked.
“can I..?”
you raised a brow, but he didn’t know exactly how to word what he wanted, he wanted so much, he didn’t know where to start.
“do you want to lay with me while I read?”
“you mean, like we did that night?”
“if you want.”
he felt young again, no strain and stress on his shoulders, just bashful and a little shy, watching as you walked back to your bed, getting comfy once again. you patted the sheets, prompting him to move, and he did.
slowly, so slowly, azriel removed one boot at a time, placing them neatly in a pair at the end of your bed. then his belt, and his jacket, undoing every clasp and buckle slowly, until he was merely left in the comfortable trousers he’d worn to dinner, and his t-shirt.
one knee on the edge of the bed, and then the other, nervous but pushing on as azriel all but catapulted himself over a line he’d never considered crossing before. you lifted the blanket, welcoming him under, and he lay himself down slowly.
shuffling a little closer, he hesitated, close enough to feel every bit of warmth you gave off, but not touching a single part of you.
“I-.. I’m scared.”
“you don’t ever have to be scared with me, azriel. my job is to heal you, let me do that.” you spread your arms for him, and he gave in, the last shred of resistance obliterated.
he collapsed down by your side, cheek pressing into your shoulder, nose brushing that spot, that spot on your neck that smelt so damn sweet, every bit of you. his front was pressed up along your side, the arm curled around his shoulder, fingers threading into his hair, and he didn’t realise how much he needed it until the sigh he let out shook.
and then his shoulders did.
his chest.
he didn’t realise he was crying until three or four breaths in.
he felt frozen, body locked up as he sobbed, unable to help himself, your fingers weaving through his hair, giving him privacy even as he lay atop you, reading quietly and flicking each page every so often.
he cried until it felt like that well of emotion inside of him that he spent so long locking up no longer felt like it was about to overflow. it was manageable, truly kept in place, for once.
he dared to reach out, to hold you back like you held him, one arm over your waist, anchoring you down, making sure you were real, you weren’t going to leave.
and you let him.
every breath he took tasted sweet on his tongue, like roasted marshmallows, and the last thing azriel truly remembered before everything went black was the feeling of your other arm reaching over, hand placed atop his scarred one on your stomach, squeezing lightly.
when azriel woke, he panicked. this wasn’t his bed, his room, and there was someone here, someone holding him, someone-
it all came back. he shifted, pulling his face from where it still lay on your shoulder, one limp hand woven into his hair, falling away when he looked up to you, still asleep. your breaths were even. as he pulled back some more, you shifted, following his warmth the way he had subconsciously done to you. it sparked something in his chest, heart pinching a little.
there was no way he could move now.
he lay back down, rolling onto his side, and pulling you softly back toward him. you went, sleepily, curling up against him. dawn had broken, he was supposed to be training, cassian would be there already, and yet not a single part of him was willing to move, not even his shadows, which were spilling like lazy waterfalls over the bedsheets surrounding you both, hardly any movement at all.
it was like nothing he’d ever felt before. euphoria.
when you woke, it was with a little jump, like you were caught off-guard as much as he was.
you stretched somewhat, and azriel slackened the arm he’d been using to hold you close, but you didn’t pull away.
instead, you rolled over a little more onto your back, but shuffled close to him, using his arm like a pillow as you blinked to adjust to the morning sun.
“you stayed.”
“is that okay?”
“it was lovely. I haven’t slept that well in ages.”
“I haven’t slept that well ever.”
azriel had hoped that by the morning, he’d have found some control over his filter again when he was around you. it would seem that hope was ill-founded.
you gasped, mockingly placing a hand over your heart, a teasing look in your eyes as you looked at him. “I am truly honoured. like a dreamcatcher, obviously, I’m just the very best cuddl-”
he rolled his eyes, and didn’t bother to hide the smile on his face. he’d exposed one of his deepest secrets to you, everything else felt so small now in comparison. he cut you off by squeezing you tightly, rolling his arm up behind your head and clamping a hand over your mouth.
eventually, the two of you had gotten up, and he’d parted ways with you at the bedroom door to change his clothes before meeting everyone for breakfast.
but, like a bucket of cold water, the high he’d been floating on came crashing down when he walked into the dining room.
you were already sitting at the table, buttering a piece of toast as mor piled more onto your plate, insistent on getting three days worth of missed food into you as he sat down.
“where exactly were you this morning, brother? you missed training entirely. the girls teamed up on me, do you know how unfair that was? three against one, azriel!”
he froze a little, halfway into his seat, eyes flicking to the warlords, before he sat properly.
“I was sleeping.”
“sleeping?”
“yes. you know, that thing where you close your eyes, and go unconscious for extended periods of time in order to-”
“shut up, you know what I meant.” he remained staring, like he was trying to work azriel out, and you chuckled at them both.
“cass, your mother hen is showing.” the man scoffed, turning his scrutiny to you instead, and azriel loosed a breath with appreciation. he wasn’t ready yet, to tell everyone else what he’d managed to tell you. he may never be ready, but he already felt lighter having let just one person in.
something bumped his ankle, and dropping his gaze down to below the table, he caught your foot reaching out, slippered toes kicking lightly at his ankle. he shifted forward in his seat, tucking himself underneath properly, and your fluffy foot wrapped around his ankle lightly.
his head spun.
right here, in his everyday life, someone was touching azriel just for the sake of touching him.
he wasn’t ready to tell anyone else yet, and you were accommodating him.
he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this, and one day, he was sure it would all come crashing down, but at least for now, he decided he would just enjoy it.
and so, it continued just like that.
you would touch az any chance you got, subtle, enough to go undetected, but enough that everything inside of azriel was practically singing with joy, all times of the day.
you’d place a hand on his shoulder when you stood beside him while he sat down, you’d link your foot with his when you sat at the table, you’d move him with your hands, this way or that way. you’d grab onto him, drag him around when he was late for his checkups because he got caught up in work. you’d poke him, and jab him when he teased you, and you’d pinch his cheeks until he swatted you away when you teased him back.
and most of all, you let him keep up his façade, rolling his eyes and huffing and pushing you away lightly, without ever pulling back from him.
more and more nights as it went on, he ended up in your bed at night, reading beside you quietly as his leg lay pressed up to yours, or your head slumped onto his shoulder when you got tired before he did.
it was months before azriel had the nerve to touch you in front of everyone without reason.
he was frustrated. he was angry and worn out, and he’d been gone for days when he finally saw his family again. five days of poor sleep, lonely days, and exhausting work trying to gather information.
he wanted to be held, he wanted nothing more than to collapse back into the lifestyle he’d become so used to already, in such a short amount of time.
you were there, sitting on one of the couches, spread out along it as everyone chatted, wine passed around. the volume hit zero as he hovered in the doorway for just a second.
“az, you’re back! how was it?”
“shit.”
“did you get it done?”
“of course.”
“good. join us. do you want a drink?”
he swallowed, throat dry, only nodding instead. but, that wasn’t really what he wanted. he was frozen in spot, and everyone was staring at him now. silence. but he was staring at you.
you sat up a little further, blissed-out look passing from your face, your back straightened. your eyes passed over him, once, twice, before meeting his gaze again.
“az, are you hurt?”
it felt like he had to force the word out, heart pounding in his ears as he considered every consequence of what he was about to do, every truth he was about to lay bare. he could pretend, he could say he was hurt, he knew you’d fake it for him. or, he could finally face the thing that terrified him.
he didn’t care, not anymore.
“no.”
at long last, his feet were moving again, and he strode across the room. kicking his boots off roughly and leaving them abandoned on the floor by the couch, next to wear your heels lay. you must have been out for drinks with mor and the others, everyone seeming a little dressed up.
he stripped off the leather jacket next, dropping it down onto the floor.
he sank, ass hitting the cushions, twisting, until he could lay down, the back of his head landing softly on your thighs.
he closed his eyes, he didn’t want to see everyone's faces, he just wanted to feel you.
rhys cleared his throat, breaking the tension that had lasted well over ten-seconds already.
“well, then. wine or whiskey, az?”
“whiskey, three fingers.”
“you got it.”
you threaded your fingers into his hair, and az let loose the rumble from his chest that he always had when you played with his hair, nails scraping lightly at his scalp.
you shifted underneath him, stretching one leg out along the couch behind him, shifting so his head lay on your stomach instead, resting between your legs comfily.
“so, it all went according to plan?” feyre was next, an overly high lilt to her voice, as rhys tinkered at the drinks cabinet in the corner.
“no, no, no, hang on. we’re all just going to avoid t- ow, nes!” a resounding thud cut him off, and azriel smirked as he heard cassian rubbing at what he assumed was the back of his head.
“everything went fine, just glad to be back. that’s all.”
“yeah, bet you are.” cassian grumbled, and your stomach shook under azriel’s head as you laughed.
rhys pat his shoulder, and he finally cracked his eyes back open, accepted the drink that was being offered. he took it, nodding a ‘thank you’, and his high lord’s eyes sparkled a little as he looked at the pair of you.
sitting up, he tried to fight the warmth coming to his cheeks, the one reaction he couldn't contain no matter how hard he tried, and he covered it by taking a long swig of the burnt amber liquid inside.
“we were just talking about cassian’s most embarrassing encounter at rita’s.”
“what?! no, we were not!”
“no, no, I distinctly remember that's the conversation we were having.” rhysand backed you up, winking at the change in topic of conversation, and feyre nodded her support. “wasn’t it around the 300 years mark, just after the summer solstice..”
cassian’s face blanched, nesta perked up, as did elain and feyre, and both mor and rhys chuckled into their drinks.
his brother was now forced to retell this story for you four, and azriel felt a single claw tap three neat times at the inside of his mind. after a moment of hesitation, he let rhys in. let him see it. let him feel it, the way you made him feel.
his other brother only nodded, pulling back, smiling as he wrapped an arm around his mate, pulling her into his side to focus on the story.
for the first time ever, as azriel watched it and wished he had that too, he could act. he reached for you, wrapping an arm around you and tugging you closer to his chest. you went willingly, leaning your head on his shoulder as you giggled, thoroughly invested in cassian’s story.
he ran his nose over the crown of your head, smiling into your hair when you relaxed even further into him.
he’d never felt so settled.
that night, when you lay in bed, and he let himself into your room, the energy felt different.
he collapsed down beside you, flopping onto his stomach, pulling a pillow under his head and reaching an arm out across your waist as you chuckled.
“big step you took tonight.”
“I was sick of everyone else getting what they wanted, and never taking what I want.”
“I’m proud of you.”
his eyes snapped open, finding you instantly, and he stared at you for a second, eyes narrowing, and you never flinched away.
“what?”
“I'm proud of you. you faced a fear you’ve held for, what, almost five centuries? you should be proud of yourself, too.”
he only nodded, discarding the pillow and moving over to you, no longer feeling even an inkling of nerves as he collapsed down onto your pillow with you, noses mere centimetres apart, legs tangling together as he searched for your touch, as he always did nowadays.
you lifted a hand, placing it on his face, thumb smoothing over his cheekbone delicately. “you deserve good things, az. let yourself ask for them, let yourself take them.”
he was rendered completely breathless, heart racing so fast it felt like it stopped, and all he could do was smile.
in that moment, when you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose, giggling as you pulled back to blow out the final candle lighting the room, he felt his heart actually stop.
in that moment, azriel knew he was completely, totally and undeniably fucked.
after that night, a line had been crossed.
he crossed it, he made the first move, edging forward into something entirely unknown. azriel was used to suppressing his feelings, he never confronted them. and yet, not, he was not only acknowledging them, he was acting on them, using them.
he woke up before you the following morning, as he always did, content to lie in once again, ignoring his training with cassian once again. cass was surely going to get sick of this, but he didn’t care.
you, however, had different plans. you woke moments after him, jerking awake with a sudden jump, one hand coming up to your head.
you merely groaned, leaving his arms to sit up straight in bed, covers pooling around your lap and his.
“what’s wrong, angel?”
“I realised I’m late for- what?” a pink tinge touched your cheeks, and you turned, glancing at him over your shoulder. lips parted in a pretty way, eyes wide and vulnerable, and he lifted one arm, propping it behind his head and grinning like it hadn't been intentional.
“I said, ‘what’s wrong, angel’?”
the colour on your cheeks deepened, and you swallowed, several times, before licking over your lower lip and dropping your gaze.
“cassian. uh, well, training. uhm, training, with cassian. I’m late. for it. for training with cassian.”
his smile stretched as you stumbled over your words when his gaze fixed on you, trailing slowly over you in the morning light.
azriel really was grateful for the blocks you were removing from his mind, every wall you took down allowed him to realise something new, and the wall you’d removed last night allowed him to truly witness just how beautiful you were. and just how affected he was by it.
you were breathtaking, messy hair and wide eyes, shrouded by the golden light of the morning, and wreathed in twisting shadows as they wrapped around you, weaving through your hair, tickling your cheeks, teasing you.
he couldn't even begin to have imagined such a sight. ethereal.
“well, then, you’d better get going.” he showed no signs of moving, pulling your covers back up his body somewhat, and you gaped at him.
“you- you’re staying here? in my bed? you’re not- you’ve not got things to do?”
“I have nothing else to do, and I’m comfy. I’ll probably still be here when you get back.”
“I- uh, okay.”
“unless you’d rather me come to training? we could work on your takedowns.”
“wait, whats wrong with my takedowns? I took down nesta, and gwyn!"
“and until you can take down me and cass, I’m not secure in your safety.”
you huffed at him, but there was a playful smile on your face, telling him you weren’t really mad, and he reached out, placing a hand on your knee, squeezing lightly. your gaze tracked the movement.
“so, will you come?” he raised a brow at you, and you gasped a little at the innuendo he’d turned it into. “to training! will you come to training?”
“I suppose so.” he sat up, stretching his arms over his head, and his shadows told him of the way you bit your lower lip, gaze flicking over his chest and arms, before snapping away to stare pointedly at the door before he caught you. “I’ll go and put on my leathers. I’ll meet you there, angel.”
rolling from the bed and flexing out the numbness from his wings, he leaned back over, one hand on the mattress beside you, one on your hip, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, and pulling back.
“see you soon.”
he was practically breathless by the time he reached the corridor, closing the door behind himself, shoes in hand.
on the way to his own bedroom, he crossed rhysand, who was passing to his office, coffee mug raised halfway to his lips, and his brows shot up. “alright, brother?”
“more than alright.”
“want to tell me about it?”
“not yet.”
“in that case, good luck.”
az grinned, continuing on his way through the house to prepare himself for training.
and just like that, azriel’s favourite new hobby began; teasing you. seeing just how much he could make you blush, how far he could go, whether you felt the same way.
lingering hands that slipped a little lower than needed when you trained, stares that he knew were more than suggestive, winks to accompany jokes that pressed well beyond that of friendship.
now that he had decided to be truthful with friends, he couldn't keep his hands to himself, he wasn’t sure how he ever did.
azriel liked to sit next to you, bury his face in your neck or hair, keep you tugged in close to his side. his arm lived permanently over the back of whatever seat you were on, and he always sat next to you, tucking hair away behind your ears, rubbing your back gently when you got sleepy, and holding you close to his chest every night when you slept.
he simply couldn't get enough.
after a few weeks, you’d stopped blushing and being as shocked. you’d caught onto his little game, he suspected, because you had begun making a habit of teasing him back.
you would kiss every cut and scrape and wound that he got once you’d fixed him up, lips teasing over the bandages as he pouted about it falsely.
you’d started to make him work for it, to always find someway to squirm or shuffle, to tease him with the possibility of leaving just so he’d have to grip a little tighter.
you’d taken to playing with his hands, running a the pad of your index over each finger and around his palm, featherlight touches that made him twitch.
and he loved it. every second of it, he loved it.
whenever he could get his hands on you, your hands on him, any part of his body touching you.
and when you weren’t there, his family had gotten more affectionate too.
cassian gave him a hug every single time he saw him, and it was almost the fifth hug before azriel stopped feeling the lump form in his throat.
rhys had taken to patting his back and shoulders every chance he got while feyre had taken to squeezing his hands and arms. mor would ruffle his hair and pinch his cheeks. he loved all of that, too.
but he didn’t love any of it as much as he loved your touch.
and so, the morning when azriel finally lay the last piece of his soul bare to you had felt so utterly normal.
he’d been in your bed that night, his legs were still tangled with yours in the early morning golden sun, noses almost touching as you shared a pillow, and just whispered about everything. his hand was tucked under your shirt to run over your skin lightly as your fingers played with his hair.
it had been utterly perfect.
he’d told you about his mother, and the childhood he’d been locked away, and the healer who would be his only form of touch for years as she fixed him up after his brothers or step-father hurt him.
he let you into that final piece of himself, and you’d made it beautiful, just like the rest.
and so, when he'd leaned forwards, catching your lips with his own in a delicate meeting, it had felt so right. not heart-racing, not anxiety-inducing, not new and terrifying and bold. no, it had felt like coming home.
and that terrified him.
it terrified him more so when he felt his chest hum, felt his heart skip a beat and the snap that made his breath rush from him. he felt it, felt a bond form, felt the bond form. he was scared.
he could feel his heart speeding up, his thoughts spinning, every mind-stilling technique he’d mastered over the years seemed to go out the window and azriel felt himself gaping at you in shock.
you were frowning at him now, and he could vaguely feel the touch of your fingers slip down from his hair to sit on his cheek, thumb stroking over his face, and every swipe felt like fire over his skin as his nerves electrified.
“not exactly the reaction you want to a mate bond.”
you were smiling, joking, and the breath once again felt pressed from him. this time, every muscle locked up, he went so still he felt like even the blood in his veins had stopped moving.
“you knew?”
a whirlwind of emotions whipping through him; confusion, anger, sadness, frail grief even as he pulled away from your touch on his face.
he pushed himself to sit up, legs swinging over the edge of the bed, and the sound of your sigh made irritation bubble within him as he processed it.
rubbing a hand over his face, he sighed, goosebumps lining his bare chest, all the way down to the boxers shorts he’s stripped down to sleep in.
then, there was a burst of concern in his chest, dizzying and disorientating for a moment before he realised it wasn’t his. it was yours, from the bond.
he snapped up walls around it, much the same feeling as the walls in his mind with rhysand, and just like that, soothing cold like his shadows took over where hot love and concern had once been.
he stood, trying not to take in the hurt on your face as he closed his end of the bond.
“az..”
he stumbled a little at the sound of his name on your tongue, feeling so much, positive and negative; love and betrayal, hurt and anger, comfort and sadness. it was a maddening concoction.
“you knew! you knew and you didn’t tell me! how could you, how could you do that to me?”
he reached for his leathers, tugging the pants up his legs and fastening them right over his shorts, grabbing for his t-shirt next.
you sat up now, crawling across the bed and tangled in the sheets before reaching a hand out to him.
“azriel.”
he flinched away from your touch, and your outstretched hand faltering before falling to rest on your thigh instead as you sat back on your heels.
“no, no, no. I need to think, don’t touch me right now. I just.. I need some space.”
“you need to think.. about us? about the bond?”
“I have some things to think about!” he was almost ashamed of the outburst as he tugged on his shirt, not even fastening it behind his back, and grabbing his boots and jacket in hand.
“right… okay, sure.” your voice cracked, and azriel was sure that would have killed him to hear had he not been swirling with so much anger already.
and then he was leaving, slamming your door behind himself and making the journey back to his room barefoot. he barely processed the walk, he barely remembered seeing lucien in the corridor or seeing feyre in the foyer.
the first time his head was clear once again was hours later, when he found himself in front of a punching bag.
he’d done as he always had, and resorted to mindlessly pounding out his emotions whenever it was too much. there were weapons scattered around himself, practice swords near the wood pillars and spare wrapping for his knuckles on the bench, and he reached a hand out to stop the bag from swinging.
there were mixed smells in the air, mostly his own sweat, that of the valkyries too. they must have come to training, and he hadn't even noticed. he’d been so caught up, so totally lost in his shadows and his feelings that he’d managed to block out the world entirely.
he willed them back, away from the frenzy around him and into a somewhat calm semblance behind his body, a writhing mass of cool, collected terror.
it was only once they were drawn back that he noticed his brother, arms crossed, leaning on the doorway with his brows raised.
“want to spar about it?”
his lips twitched up at the edges, and he glanced the ring, before nodding.
cassian had always known just what he needed when he was in a mood like this.
then again, he’d never quite had a mood like this before. never the hurt of finding his mate, finding out his mate already knew and had deceived him, and then the betrayal to follow, all within minutes. no, this was brand new.
he didn’t want to talk, not as he watched cassian powder and wrap his hands, not as he watched his brother take stance, and not as they began to throw and dodge punches.
no, it wasn’t until azriel was dripping in sweat and panting so hard his lungs hurt that the therapeutic part of it finally kicked in, and his shoulders felt light enough to let the words sitting on his tongue free.
“she’s my mate.”
“yeah.” cassian didn’t even hesitate, and the shock of realising that cassian knew too was so stark he caught a punch across his jaw.
he swore, spitting out to the side and cutting a glare at his brother. he’d already landed a good few punches of his own, but he’d get him back for that one.
“you knew as well?”
“yeah.”
azriel landed a hard blow to his brother’s ribs, prompting more than just that one word out of him with a matching glower.
instead, cassian slowed the movements of his feet until they were standing still, panting and aching and loose of physical tension at last. wordlessly, he had stopped the fight, enough that they were actually going to talk about this, it seemed.
“she told me after that one mission, where you almost died and snapped at her real bad. when she woke up after her burnout, we talked about it. I wanted to apologise to her. she told me, that the bond had snapped for her during that night when she was caring for you.”
azriel remembered that, or, the morning after, at least. how it had felt to wake up to you, to wake up to touch and feeling loved, and how he’d reacted much the same that morning as he had this morning.
he’d freaked out, and snapped, and yelled a little bit. he cringed slightly at the comparison.
his brother was smiling, unwrapping his hands. “so, it snapped for you too, then! when?”
“this morning, when we..”
azriel cleared his throat as heat rose to his cheeks, and cassian wiggled his brows with a smirk. “when we..?”
“oh, gods, cass. when we kissed, that's it.”
then, cassian’s smile dimmed, and his gaze flicked around the room at the chaos left in azriel’s wake.
“so, if it snapped this morning, what the hell are you doing beating out your frustrations up here? there’s much more enjoyable ways to pass the energy surge, you know.”
he winked, and azriel merely rolled his eyes, but he had no anger left to spare at the moment.
“I… was overwhelmed. I’ve waited so long, cassian, it took me by surprise. I freaked out a little bit, I was so shocked.”
“and?”
sometimes it scared him just how well his brother could read him. he sighed, trying to clear his thoughts enough to recall the morning the way it had happened, without the fog in his mind.
“and then she told me that she knew. she knew all this time, knowing how much I cared for her, how much I wanted her, how much I wanted a mate, and she kept it from me.”
“because you’re just known for your calm, logical reactions in moments of emotional stress. obviously.”
that earned cassian a scowl weighed with threat and disdain.
“she said she knew, I freaked out and said I needed some space to think, because how could she do that to me? I needed to leave and think some things through.”
“well, as long as you didn’t say it quite like that, but..” cassian shrugged, grabbing his water bottle and taking a hearty gulp before tossing it to azriel.
he was parched, but he couldn’t bring himself to drink when cassian had dropped a statement like that on him.
“that’s exactly how I said it. verbatim. what do you mean?”
“are you serious, azriel?”
rarely did cassian ever take that tone with him, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had, and azriel’s eyes widened a little in shock.
“let me just be sure I’m understanding this correctly. the woman who is head-over-heels for you, constantly gives you her all, openly adores you for all to see, you didn’t even suspect that she was your mate?”
“I mean, I hoped, but I tried not to think too hard so I wouldn't be disappointed-”
his excuse was cut off, ignored, as cassian held his hand up to him.
“then, when the bond finally snaps for you, because you finally let that last bit of your walls down to actually let yourself be happy, that’s what you say?”
“harsh, cass.”
“you told that sweet, kind woman, who knew and was waiting for you to figure it out on your own, because you’re so stubborn and hard-headed that you won’t just let yourself be happy, that you needed to think? you didn’t stop to think that for all this time she’s been protecting that bond alone, the bond you didn’t pick up, loving you with her whole heart and soul while getting nothing back, you didn’t think about her? what she’s been going through? that about cover it?”
azriel had never quite been lectured like this by cassian before. he could only nod.
“you watched me get my heart broken over and over again by nesta until she realised. and you.. you.. what is there to think about? what, you don’t want her? what, that maybe she’s great for keeping your bed warm but not as a mate?”
something awful, horrible, cold and heavy and sinking settled into his stomach.
his chest felt hollow, that place where a bond had been for only seconds before he’d silenced it felt like a missing limb now.
the last of the angry mist filling him finally dissipated.
if cassian thought those things, then maybe you-..
“oh, gods..”
“you’re such a dumbass.” cassian scoffed, frowning at him and placing his hands on his hips.
“okay, seriously, cassian. you are reaming my ass today, what the hell?”
“you deserve it!”
he couldn't argue that, all he could do was grumble about it.
he dropped those walls back down, reaching out for the bond and tugging. no reply, like a brick wall. he tried again, this time you had shut him out, and he hated how empty that made him feel. how much he must’ve hurt you by doing that.
“do you think I should-”
“I REALLY DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE STILL DOING HERE.”
“OKAY, OKAY.”
it was enough encouragement, enough to spur him from where he was frozen, not even bothering to unwrap his hands as he took off in a jog.
once again, he was lost to everyone except his own thoughts.
he missed rhysand as he passed his office and called out a greeting, and he missed elain as he flew in and out of the kitchen, he missed nesta who cursed at him for almost running straight into her.
he searched every room for you, coming up empty everywhere but your bedroom.
he was banging on your door, one hand curled into a fist as he shouted your name, refusing to just barge in when he had so clearly been shut out and cut off, but that resolve was wearing thin the longer you didn’t answer him.
“angel, please, I just want to talk, stop shutting me out, c’mon.”
his shoulders were slumping, he hoped they weren’t shaking, as your silent treatment settled a heavy sense of foreboding within him.
“hey, az. what are you doing?” elain’s eyes were narrowed on him, and her arms were crossed over her chest as she took him in.
“hey, elain. I can’t find (y/n), she doesn’t want to talk to me.. I fucked up this morning and I know that and I’m sorry!” his voice rose toward the end of his sentence turning back to face the wood of your door and hoping you’d hear it.”
“az, she’s not in there.”
“you know where she is?” he didn’t even have enough to feel embarrassed as his head whipped to her.
“she went back to autumn a couple of hours ago.” elain only shrugged, because she didn’t have a crushing sense of defeat and loss and agony in her chest as she spoke those words. not like he did upon hearing them.
“she.. I mean, she.. what? why? when?”
elain only shrugged once more.
“I don’t know. I was out doing some early morning gardening before the heat of the day kicked in, and lucien came out in such a panic all of a sudden and told me he had to go back to autumn immediately, and was taking (y/n) with him. he wouldn’t tell me much more, just that he’d be out of touch for a few days. I barely even got a chance to say goodbye to him before they were winnowing out, bags in hand.”
she sighed wistfully, clearly missing her mate dearly, and boy did azriel know how that now felt.
he felt hot, all over, and somehow cold at the same time. his body was aching, in all new ways from the vigorous training, his eyes stung so much it hurt to keep them open and will back the oncoming tears.
“oh, az, don’t worry. they’ll be back soon, I just know it. why don’t we get you some tea, huh? I just brewed a fresh pot of berries and lemon.”
she reached up, one hand on his shoulder and one on his arm to lead him away. it was comforting, the warmth of her touch and the squeeze she gave, the smile to accompany it. but it wasn’t enough, not even close.
so he sat, with a cup of tea clenched between his hands, warming him slowly from the porcelain as elain rolled out bread dough on the counter behind him.
it was as he took the final sip, staring into the bottom of the blue hand-made mug of feyre’s that elain finally spoke up. the question had been lingering in the air for almost twenty minutes, and he had been delaying it as long as possible.
“do you want to talk about it?”
“not really.”
“talk about it.”
“okay.”
he’d long since given up on arguing with elain, whether it was her seer abilities, eavesdropping, or an uncanny ability to get information out of people, she’d gotten very good at knowing every single piece of gossip, and it was better to tell her himself than let her puzzle it out or hear it from cassian.
“in a nutshell, (y/n) is my mate, and I fucked it all up.”
“yes, well, I’d managed to piece that much together,” she smirked at him, wiping floury hands on her apron and pouring him a new mug of steaming tea, a spoonful of honey dunking into it to follow before she returned to her bread. “why don’t you tell me the rest?”
“she knew. cassian knew. you knew. everyone but me knew, apparently. the mailman and the courtiers from spring probably know. it snapped for me this morning, and I freaked out a little bit.” he pinched his fingers together, and then winced, expanding them some more “more than a little bit. I told her I needed to think about us, after basically accusing her of lying to me and implying she was awful for doing that, and then I.. stormed out.”
elain blew out a slow breath, slicing the dough into small cubes before shaping them up in circles. “well, it’s not great, I won’t lie. but, I don’t think she’d just run away from you. she’ll come back, she loves you, azriel, that means loving all the flaws that come with you, like brash decisions and saying the wrong thing in the heat of the moment and storming out.”
he let out an empty laugh at her teasing. somewhere deep down, he could see the logic in it all, but that didn’t stop it from hurting right now.
“oh, az..” she brushed her hands down again, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and propping her chin atop his head, squeezing him lightly. he raised a hand, patting her elbow where it sat on his shoulder and sighing. “you two are going to be just fine, I’m sure of it.”
“are you saying that as my friend or as a seer?”
her silence was answer enough for him and he groaned, head flopping down to sit on his forearms on the table as she only chuckled.
that was how feyre and rhys found him an hour later when they came down for sandwiches made of fresh bread, and he was forced to say it all over again.
then that evening, mor joined everyone for dinner and rhys forced him to reiterate it all over once more as he smirked.
the following morning, nesta gave him a look as she passed him in the corridor, and he knew that cassian had told her, too.
the only reprieve was amren, who simply did not care, and told everyone as much when sensing the foul mood hanging over him.
for three days he moped, every evening making him feel worse and worse.
he was lonely, his bed was cold, his chest was colder, and he felt like his heart wasn’t even beating.
he’d always been confused before when hearing the rumours, the stories of people with rejected or lost mates, and yet now, he understood.
he didn’t want to get up, he didn’t want to leave his bed, he wanted to lay, and fester alone, and wait.
azriel had been just fine before, just fine when nobody touched him, nobody told him what he could and couldn't have, when he was moping and broody and he’d never known any different. he was just fine imagining what his life could have been and never having it.
but then he’d had it. he’d had love and affection and touch, he’d had someone make him their priority, he’d had someone to cheer him up on bad days and to make him laugh when he wanted to frown. he’d had someone. and now, he was back to having no one.
it was dinner on the fourth night, as he was sipping on his wine, when the hairs on the back of his neck stood.
his shadows stilled for a split second, swirling in slow motion before becoming frantic.
the front door was opened a moment later. the room around him went silent, all eyes moving to the foyer.
his spine straightened almost painfully as his hands clenched, trying to resist the urge to fly up from his seat and toward you.
a small smile formed on your face as you glanced around upon making it to the kitchen, and as rhysand stood, his legs twitched, wanting to copy. wanting to follow, to make his way to you, to-
“I’m sorry we just disappeared.” lucien sighed, wiping a hand over his face. he looked exhausted, like he’d spent days on end without sleep, he’d rarely seen the male so stressed. you looked worse.
concern and panic flared up within him as he took in the circles under your eyes, the slump of your shoulders like even standing up was exhausting.
“I couldn't say anything until, well, until we knew what had actually happened. no easy way to say it, so, here it is. my father is dead.”
that shocked him, enough that he managed to tear his gaze from you for a second to stare at lucien, jaw dropping like almost everyone else.
elain’s chair screeched back, she was on her feet a moment later, flying towards her mate and into his arms as she mumbled soothing apologies mixed with vague curses about the man, and lucien only chuckled.
“what happened?” mor burst, frowning in an attempt to seem apologetic, he was sure most of the looks around the table were false sympathy. he wasn’t sure that even lucien was all that upset by it.
gasps sounded around the table, and he didn’t care to take in any of it, frowning when feyre stood from her seat and made her way to you, squeezing your hands in her own, and azriel hated it, because he wanted to be the one holding you.
before he could move, rhys was tapping at his shields, a sharp talon scratching down those mental walls he’d put up.
“lucien, we should talk about it. my office, if you’re willing?”
the redhead only nodded, pressing a kiss to his mate’s head before disentangling himself.
he glanced to his brother, mental conversation taking place, and he knew it was right, no matter how much he hated it. if beron had been assassinated, they needed to talk, and that involved him.
the sympathetic look on rhys’ face did nothing to soothe him, and it was like dragging his body through wet cement as he followed lucien, rhys and cassian out of the dining room and to his office.
for three torturous hours he tried to focus and give his best, and yet you were all he could think about.
you were so close, you were back within the same four walls as he was, you were here, he could talk to you, get to you. he needed to.
as soon as he was free to go, he was outside of your bedroom door, knuckles tapping against the wood until he heard the faint ‘come in’ from the other side.
you were sitting in your bed, only the lamp beside you on.
“azriel, hey. I’ve been waiting for you.”
he couldn't feel any bone in his body as he all but sagged with relief. “you have?”
you only nodded as he took a few steps closer. “we should probably talk.”
well, there goes that relief.
his throat was burning, he felt so exposed and vulnerable and lost.
he was so caught up that he’d never noticed the return of that bond, the reopening of your end, until a wave of reassurance washed down it toward him.
there were tears in his eyes and his laugh was croaky as he rubbed his chest.
“I’m so sorry. I thought you left. I thought you were gone for good, I was so scared you weren’t coming back to me I thought I drove you away, and you have no idea how much that hurt, I couldn't even think. it- it was like my heart was missing from my chest, I love you so much, I can’t be apart from you, okay? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean to make you leave, I didn’t mean to make you sad. not that morning, or the morning after that night you saved my life. I’ll be better, okay? I won’t be so grumpy and I won’t jump to conclusions, and I’ll just tr-”
“oh, oh, az-” he could sense how overwhelmed you were, he was only making it worse, and he watched you kick at the sheets and crawl toward the edge of the bed. “azriel, baby, c’mere.”
you held your hands held out to him, just like they had days ago, and he didn’t make the same mistakes as last time.
he stumbled forward, until your hands could take his face softly, thumbs swiping away the tears that were flowing steadily over his cheeks.
one of his hands closed over your own, the other gripping the opposite wrist.
“I’m so sorry, angel.”
“az, gods, honey, I’d never leave you. I’m sorry, that I had to close the bond, but it was a court-wide lockdown, I was liable for treason if I didn’t. all communication had to be cut off, even lucien to elain.”
he could only nod, he’d known that much, because elain had started to grow just as sad as he’d been as of yesterday morning.
“I’m not going anywhere, ever, okay? one little hiccup isn’t going to ruin what we have. you take as much time as you need to process it, gods know I spent the whole night I was mopping your forehead and checking your pulse was still there processing it.”
you pulled him forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and azriel was sure no drug or alcohol or deep breath as he broke the surface of the water had ever felt like this.
“I thought there was no way this moody bat who wants nothing to do with me is my mate.”
he laughed, hands finding your hips, your cheek resting on his temple as you hugged him close. “I’m sorry I was so rude the morning after.”
“that’s okay, I already forgave you for that a while ago. can you forgive me for not telling you for so long?”
“I already forgave you days ago. I’ve been in agony missing you ever since.”
you pulled away, despite his protests, kissing each of his damp cheeks gently.
“do you want to get ready for bed and join me? I’ve almost finished my chapter.”
“you sure you still want me?”
“I’m never going to stop wanting you, azriel. you’re mine, and I’m yours. I love you.”
“I love you.”
azriel was quick to strip down, all the way to his boxers, leaving his leathers over the back of the chair and his boots by the door.
you were still kneeling and looking at him fondly, and the air around him seemed to warm with affection, every nerve in his body relaxing.
“you ready for bed?”
“..yes.”
“you want some really clingy cuddles tonight?”
“I don’t think I could be close enough to you tonight if we actually became one person.”
he wasn't sure where such a confession came from, but you laughed at him, big smile and eyes closing and he didn’t care. if bearing his soul to you meant relaxed laughing and pretty smiles and feeling like this, he’d tell you every soppy, silly thought he’d ever had.
while your eyes were closed, he moved, all but tackling you onto the bed and burying his face into your neck.
it only made you laugh more, hands gripping at his shoulders, squirming as his hands ran up and down your sides to tickle, pinned underneath him and breathless as you giggled.
“az! az! what about the covers, my book, the lights!”
“don’t care.” he pressed a kiss to the crook between your neck and shoulder, finally relenting his tickling to simply lay on you instead.
love and playful joy and the feeling of fullness flushed down the bond, filling his chest as you caught your breath under him.
you shifted again.
“az, honey, please-”
“I love it when you call me that.” he groaned, nudging his nose against your jaw, cheeks aching from the smile on his lips. you only tugged at a handful of the covers under your bodies.
“I'm gonna’ freeze in the night, I’m not made of the same stuff you are.”
“that’s what happens when you wear these little nightgowns to bed.”
pinching some of the silk slip between his fingers, he jerked it lightly, and you smacked his hand away.
“they’re comfy! and besides, do you know how hot it gets in bed with you?” he pushed himself up, unable to stop the cassian-like smirk on his face as a very cassian-like joke passed through his mind. he needed to stop spending so much time with his brother. “oh, cut it out. you are like a furnace, but above the covers, I’m all exposed, my legs will get cold.”
“no winning with you, huh?”
“you’re gonna’ have to get used to losing arguments if you’re gonna’ be with me, honey.”
he sighed dramatically, despite the skip of his heart which he knew you felt too, and he lifted himself up, pulling back the covers so you could get beneath, and settling himself in beside you.
with the book gone and the lights out, azriel shuffled himself closer, resting one scarred palm on your cheek in the dark. “now can we cuddle?”
“yes, shadowsinger, illyrian warrior, terrifying-” he scoffed, leaning in to cut you off with a kiss, one which was cut short by your giggling.
“wasn’t it you that told me none of those things define me, and they don’t stop me being worthy of love?”
“yes, my love, my honey, my mate-”
“much better.”
“we can cuddle now.”
he tugged you closer, close enough that his forehead touched yours, cheeks on the same pillow, and he’d never felt happier than this moment, bond singing between your bodies.
after a moment, you moved, head tucking under his chin, legs tangling, and he circled his arms right around you, one wing following.
azriel felt like he was practically melting into you, as the slow traces of your fingers up and down his arm drained away every bit of stress from his body.
“everything is different with you, az. when you hold me, I feel so safe. I feel protected, like nothing can go wrong in the world.”
his heart swelled and he dipped enough to kiss your hairline in response, your nose following, before his lips were meeting with your own.
it was fragile, and soft, and perfect. everything he’d ever wanted.
it was the kind of kiss that promised every day, not the passion of one night or the teasing of something more. this kiss spoke to every part of him, it filled his heart, made him proud and happy and contented, and he loved it.
“when you hold me, I feel like I can finally be vulnerable. like someone sees every single part of me, and loves me. I don’t feel scared to show you every part of my soul. I am completely and wholly yours.”
Thank you all so so much for making this year so good. I only actively started writing on here last January with 2 people following me. Now we are over 900 little daisies and I honestly have no words for it💛💛💛
And now a big THANK YOU to all of you!!
It is beyond me how many there are (of you) who always read my posts and interact with them, thank you for that. A big thank you to those people who will always reblog your post so more people can see it:
@despoinasstuff @valeriadarkness (I somehow cannot tag you) @danikasthings @brekkershadowsinger @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship
There are those terribly talented writes who create posts and stories for Elucien. Stories I have re-read an unhealthy amount of times and that are still as beautiful as the first time reading them.
And there are those people who write phenomenal stories about my beloved Azriel (and other ACOTAR men & women). Just know that I love your stories so, so much and have probably binged and re-read them all.
To all those creators (& many more, I definitely forgot someone) THANK YOU you for your creativity, your stories, your talent you share with us.
And lastly to all my ANONS, sending in requests and reading my stories. I love you soo much. THANK YOU, for your kindness and your loyalty and the love you show my stories. This year would not have even been half as good without all of you!! You helped find a leisure activity that I love woth my whole heart and helped me improve my writing. 💛💛💛
A lot of good things are planned for the next year, most of them currently getting written or already finished. I hope you look as forward to reading them as I to posting them.
Hope you have a great start into the new year!! Lots of love ~💛🌼
“are you trying to turn me on or are you really that oblivious?” With Rhys please! 🤤
cold nights.
a/n: i lied. this is truly the last of the smut prompts. i've been craving some rhys so here's a dose of our wickedly delicious high lord.
warning: smut under the cut.
You shifted your weight on one foot, attempting to muster up the courage to knock on Rhysand’s door.
It was long past midnight, the twilight sky enveloping the quiet townhouse in darkness. The city beyond was asleep, but you couldn’t seem to join the rest of Velaris in their peaceful slumber. You were plagued by nightmares and rest evaded you no matter how hard you tried.
It seemed like both a blessing and a curse that the only person who could possibly understand slept just across the hallway. A blessing because Rhys provided refuge from your racing thoughts and a curse because he was so often the subject of those thoughts.
You raised your fist, half debating on just going back to your room and finding another way to occupy yourself, but the door swung open before you could talk yourself out of it.
Rhysand was shirtless and the threadbare sweats he’d haphazardly thrown on rode dangerously low on his hips. Golden brown skin, perfectly sculpted muscles, and intricate tattoos snagged at your attention, but you forced yourself to meet you friend's gaze.
The High Lord didn’t say a word as he grabbed your hand and led you to the bed. Rhys peeled back the sheets and you climbed in, making yourself comfortable as he slipped in beside you.
If you ever have a nightmare, you can come to me and I’ll keep you company. No questions asked.
That’s what Rhys had said to you so long ago. You were so sure he’d forgotten the offer, but as he shifted over to face you, you knew that your friend had meant every word.
“Bad dream?” Rhys asked quietly.
You nodded, resting your head against his pillows. It smelled like him—like a mixture of rain, salt, and citrus and the familiar scent put you at ease.
He propped his head up, concern shimmering in those violet eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really,” you replied gently. “Is it okay if we just lay here?”
Rhys smiled and you swore to the Mother that you’d never seen a more beautiful sight. “Of course. C’mere, darling.”
You let him pull you closer, your back pressed against his chest as he enveloped you in the safety of his arms. Despite the chill outside, you felt nothing but warmth. Being with Rhys always made you feel lighter. Less heavy, less weighed down. There was an ease to his presence that you couldn’t quite explain.
To you, Rhysand wasn’t the High Lord. He was just Rhys. Your closest friend and most trusted confidante. The male who’d seen both the best and worst that you had to offer and still stayed even though everyone else had left.
“Rhys?” you murmured, glad that your friend couldn’t see the tears welling in your eyes.
He cuddled you closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For reminding me that I’m not alone.”
Rhysand leaned over and kissed your cheek. “I’ll always be here for you, darling.”
You smiled, snuggling into the heat radiating off of his body. The warmth and coziness made no logical sense given that he was currently naked from the torso up, but you didn’t question it and instead reveled in the comfort Rhys brought you.
“Making yourself comfortable?”
“Mhm,” you mumble sleepily, “Feels nice.”
“Yeah?” Rhys asked, his cool breath fanning over your skin. “You like cuddling with me?”
“You’re always so warm, Rhys. It feels good.”
The High Lord hums appreciatively, his fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. You inhale sharply, shifting as he traced small patterns against your skin. Rhysand left trails of heat in his wake as his touch chased away the chill of the winter air.
“You feel a little cold, darling.” He purred in your ear. “Want me to warm you up?”
You swallowed thickly. “Yes, please.”
Rhys slipped his fingers underneath your shirt, rubbing tantalizing circles on your skin. Your mind went utterly blank. All you could focus on was how good it felt when Rhys touched you. His hands inched higher and higher, sweeping just below your ribs and dangerously close to your breasts. A soft moan escaped from your lips as you wriggled against him.
“Fuck,” Rhys whispered. The sound was low and guttural, skittering over your skin like wildfire.
“What’s wrong?” you looked over your shoulder, nearly whimpering as dark eyes met yours. You shifted and felt his erection press against your ass. Rhys was hard and it was entirely your doing. Your mouth went dry at the thought.
“Are you trying to turn me on or are you really that oblivious?” he asked in a pinched voice.
You held his burning gaze, biting your lip to keep from smirking. It was strangely satisfying knowing that you had this effect on him and you wanted to toy with him for as long as you could. You plastered on an innocent smile and grinded your ass against his cock.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Rhys released a low groan. “Cruel, wicked female.” He tugged on the elastic waistband of your pajamas, fingers hovering right above where you wanted him most. “You should know that I don’t respond kindly to being teased.”
“Oh?” you taunted, your voice husky and seductive. “Why don’t you show me how the High Lord punishes his disobedient subjects?”
The Illyrian growled, his hand dipping further down and nearly making you dizzy with desire. Rhys dragged his fingers through your slick folds, groaning as your arousal covered his digits.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he growled. “Is this all for me, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” you breathed. “It’s all for you, Rhys.”
“Gods, you have no idea what you do to me.”
You smirked, wriggling your ass against his erection once more. “I think I may have an inkling.”
“That’s more than an inkling, darling.”
Arousal shot through your nerves, making your entire body come alive. “Perhaps I need more convincing.”
The challenge was met with a growl as Rhysand yanked your pajamas down. He cupped your ass and released his cock from the constraints of his sweatpants. You swallowed when you felt his length press against your leg. He was long and thick and deliciously hard.
Rhys tilted your chin, pressing a hungry kiss against your lips. You could taste the need and desperation on his tongue and you returned it with equal intensity, moaning into his mouth.
“Remember sweetheart, you asked for this.”
You shivered with anticipation as Rhys hiked your leg up before teasing the tip of his cock into your sopping wet cunt. He coated the sensitive head with your juices, smirking against your neck as you moaned.
“Please, Rhys.”
The High Lord hummed. “What is it that you want, sweetheart?”
“You,” you countered. “I want all of you. Right now.”
Rhysand chuckled darkly. “Only because you sound so pretty when you beg for my cock.”
You choked out a sob as he eased his way in. Even with how wet you were, it was still an adjustment to accommodate his size. Rhys yanked you closer, gripping your hips as he fully sheathed himself within your walls.
“So tight,” he grunted. “That’s it, baby. You’re taking me so well. You like feeling me stretch your pretty little cunt, don’t you?”
“Feels so good,” you murmured.
Rhys nipped at your neck, leaving marks on your soft flesh. “Yeah?” he teased, gripping your hips and slowly grinding into you.
“Stop fucking teasing, Rhys.”
His dark, sensuous laughter rattled your bones. “Or what?”
You grabbed his hands impatiently, pressing them against your breasts as you grinded down on his cock. Rhys released a choked sound as he squeezed on your soft flesh. The rhythm of your hips was frantic, lifting and lifting before slamming down without warning.
“Such a greedy little brat.” Rhys growled, halting your movements. “Maybe I should make you beg for it. Fuck the sass right out of you, hm?”
“You won’t do shit—fuck” you cried out as Rhys slammed into you. He pulled out of your pussy just to slam back in and the impact made you whimper.
You grasped at the sheets as his balls slapped against your ass, fucking you so well that any sarcastic remark that might’ve left your lips instantly died in your throat.
Rhysand flipped your position, coming up behind you and lifting your ass in the air as your face pressed against the pillows.
“You know, you shouldn’t speak to your High Lord with such insolence,” Rhys taunted, cupping your ass. “I have half a mind to spank you.”
You moaned as he kneaded your right cheek. You felt hot all over imagining what his palm would feel like against your skin.
“Please, Rhys.” You clawed at the headboard, bracing yourself. “Spank me. Choke me. Fuck me. I don’t care. As long as you do something.”
The High Lord kissed the base of your spine before his hand hit your ass with a loud smack. You lurched forward, nearly hitting your head on the wooden headboard. Rhys propped a pillow to protect your head. A glimpse of the caring friend you adored.
It wasn’t long before the dark, punishing male was back. Rhysand was absolutely insatiable, doling out spanks as you moaned into the sheets. His hand came down upon your skin with searing heat, but you lived for the mixture of pleasure and pain.
He tilted your chin, fingers splaying over the column of your throat as his tongue claimed you. Rhys squeezed your neck, cutting off your airway as he fucked you from behind. You felt lightheaded and utterly euphoric as he unleashed this dominant side of him.
The shadow of his wings enveloped you in darkness. Rhys grazed his teeth against your shoulder. “I could fuck you forever. Give it to you a thousand different ways. Rough and hard. Soft and sweet.” He thrust harder, faster. “Make you cum on my cock, mouth, and fingers. I’m gonna have so much fun making a mess of you, darling.”
“Oh gods.” You cried, nearly on your way to becoming nothing but a writhing, panting mess underneath him. “I’m so close, Rhys.”
Rhys flicked his fingers over your clit, smirking. “Go on then. Cum for me, sweetheart. Let everyone hear who can get you like this.”
You cried out his name, whimpering as pleasure took you under. Rhysand’s thrusts turned sloppy and it wasn’t long before he’s coming undone above you. The entire townhouse trembled as he came, collapsing beside you.
The room stilled until the only sound was your soft breaths mingling with the howling wind outside. You propped your head up on the pillow, admiring the rise and fall of Rhysand’s sculpted chest as he opened his eyes. His hair was tousled from where you’d ran your hands through it, his golden brown skin covered in sweat and sex, and his lips swollen from your rough kisses. Stars winked into existence in the deep violet of his eyes as he looked over at you.
“Like what you see?” he asked cockily, flashing you a cheeky wink.
“You’re such a cocky bastard, Rhys.”
The High Lord pulled you flush against his chest. “You didn’t seem to be complaining about my cockiness a second ago.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like your cockiness.” You respond, running your hands through his hair. “In fact, I think I’ve grown rather fond of it.”
“Good,” Rhys said with a smirk before pinning you underneath him. “Because I meant what I said. We’re only getting started, darling.”
With your nightmare entirely forgotten, you nipped at Rhysand’s earlobe.
“Bring it on, Rhys.”
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