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Masterlist

[ivy-goldrush]

Inked Longing Masterlist

Summary: A solo web cam performer is the only intimate company that you have been seeking. But what happens when this relationship becomes more intimate between the two of you? And what happens when you bump into each other in person? And who’s hiding the secrets?

Warnings: This is an 18+ MDNI series; contains smut, angst, tension, themes of panic, and miscommunication?

Main Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8 - 6th jan

Part 9 - 7th jan

Part 10 - 8th jan

Part 11 - tbc

[ivy-goldrush]

There won’t be an Inked Longing post today as I am currently suffering with the flu 🤧

[ivy-goldrush]

Inked Longing - 7

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist | previous | next

Camboy!azriel x reader x Eris?

Warnings: tension, smut

18+ MDNI

📝: 3k

Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic rhythm that seemed to echo in the quiet room. You looked from Eris's challenging smirk back to Azriel, whose jaw was tight, his knuckles white where they gripped the edge of the couch cushion. The air felt too warm, too close. "It stopped being just business hours ago," you heard yourself say, your voice steadier than you felt. Azriel's dark eyes flashed with something raw - surprise, hunger, conflict. Eris let out a low, appreciative chuckle. "There it is." He pushed off the wall but didn't come closer, instead circling to the other side of the coffee table, a spectator positioning himself for a better view. "So what's the hold-up, Az? She's here. The want is...”

He gestured vaguely in the space between you and Azriel, a space that seemed to hum with unspent energy. "...Palpable. Even I can feel it from over here." Azriel finally broke his stillness, turning his body fully towards you. The movement was deliberate, bringing him closer. You could see the faint, familiar patterns of ink peeking from beneath the collar of his shirt, a map you'd traced with your eyes countless times on a screen but had never been allowed to touch. "Eris," Azriel said, his voice a warning, but his attention never left your face. "This isn't one of our scenes." "No," Eris agreed softly, his playful tone vanishing into something more genuine. "It's not. It's real. And it's messy.”

His words seemed to give Azriel permission. The conflict in his eyes cleared, replaced by a singular focus that stole the breath from your lungs. He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your cheek, the touch sending a jolt straight through you. "You should go," he murmured, but his hand remained, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. The contradiction was dizzying. "He's right," you whispered back, leaning into his touch. "But I don't want to." From across the room, Eris watched, a strange expression on his face - part envy, part profound satisfaction. He had seen Azriel retreat from real connection for so long, building walls with his solitude. Seeing them crumble now was its own kind of thrill.

The simple admission seemed to shatter the last of Azriel's restraint. His hand slid from your jaw to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you in until your foreheads touched. His breath was warm against your lips. "Tell me," he demanded, his voice a rough whisper meant only for you. "Tell me exactly what you couldn't find on your own." Your eyes fluttered closed for a second, overwhelmed by his proximity, the scent of him, the sheer reality of it. "Your voice," you breathed out. "The way you say my name. The... the weight of you." A low groan escaped him, a sound of pure want. From his periphery, Azriel saw Eris move. Not towards you, but towards the other end of the sofa.

He sank down onto the cushions, maintaining a careful distance but closing the circle, making his presence an undeniable part of the atmosphere. He didn't speak, didn't touch, simply watched with heavy-lidded eyes, a silent witness to the intimacy unfolding. Azriel's gaze flickered to him, a silent question passing between them. Eris gave an almost imperceptible nod, a gesture of permission and solidarity. It was all the confirmation Azriel needed. His lips finally captured yours in a kiss that was nothing like the first - this one was deep, claiming, and hungry. It was a kiss that held months of late-night longing, and you melted into it, your hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders.

The kiss deepened, a slow exploration that quickly turned urgent. Your fingers tangled in the soft hair at the nape of Azriel's neck, pulling him closer. A low, approving hum came from Eris's direction. You felt, more than saw, him shift on the couch, the leather sighing under his weight as he settled in to watch. Azriel broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged pulls, and rested his forehead against yours again. His eyes were dark pools of need. "He's staying," Azriel stated, his voice thick. It wasn't a question. You turned your head slightly, your gaze meeting Eris's across the short space. He held your look, his expression unreadable but for the intense focus in his eyes.

You nodded, a shiver of anticipation tracing your spine. This was uncharted, terrifying, and exhilarating. Azriel's thumb brushed your lower lip, his touch reverent. "Tell him," he urged softly, his eyes searching yours. "Tell him what you want." The invitation hung in the air, a challenge that pushed you past the edge of mere confession. You looked back at Eris, who had gone perfectly still, waiting. "I want to not be the only one watching tonight," you said, the words leaving you in a rush. A slow, brilliant smile spread across Eris's face, transforming his sharp features into something breathtaking. "Well then," he murmured, his voice a velvet promise. He didn't move from his spot, but he let his gaze travel over you with deliberate,appreciative slowness. "You have my full attention." The permission, the shared gaze, it ignited something bolder in you. You turned your head just enough to look at Azriel, your voice barely above a whisper but clear in the quiet room. "Ask him to stay." Azriel's eyes held yours for a long moment, a silent conversation passing between you. Then he slowly turned his head toward his oldest friend. "Eris," he said, the name a rough caress. "Stay." It was an invitation, a relinquishing of control, and a gift all at once. Eris's breath caught audibly. He had expected to be a spectator, a tolerated presence. This was different.

He moved then, not with his earlier theatrical saunter, but with a deliberate, predatory grace that brought him to the edge of the sofa beside you. He didn't touch, but his heat was a new brand against your side. "You're sure?" Eris asked Azriel, the question layered with years of history and unspoken boundaries. Azriel's answer was to lean past you, his body a solid wall of warmth, and capture Eris's mouth in a brief, fierce kiss. It was over before you could fully process it, but the image was seared into your mind: the contrast of Azriel's dark intensity against Eris's fiery confidence, a collision of past and present that left you breathless. Azriel pulled back, his lips slightly parted. "I'm sure," he said,

his voice leaving no room for doubt. The confirmation seemed to dissolve the final invisible barrier in the room. Eris exhaled, a soft, surrendering sound, and finally closed the last of the distance between you. His arm came to rest along the back of the couch behind your shoulders, not touching, but his presence became an enveloping warmth. He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Your wish," he murmured, his breath tickling your skin, "is my absolute pleasure." The dual attention was overwhelming. Azriel's hand returned to your jaw, turning your face back to his for another deep, consuming kiss, while Eris's fingers began a slow, idle tracing of patterns on your shoulder through the fabric of your t shirt.

You were caught perfectly between them, a point of convergence for two distinct kinds of heat. Azriel's kiss was a deep, claiming tide, pulling you under, while Eris's touch was a slow-burning wildfire at the edges of your awareness. When you finally broke from Azriel's lips, gasping for air, you turned your head to find Eris's mouth already waiting. His kiss was different - sharper, more playful, all teasing flicks of his tongue and controlled pressure. He tasted like spice and expensive whiskey. You moaned into it, your hand coming up to tangle in the vibrant red of his hair, and you felt Azriel watching, his gaze a physical weight on your skin.

Azriel's hand slid from your jaw down the column of your throat, his thumb pressing lightly against your frantic pulse. "Look at me," he commanded, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. You pulled away from Eris's intoxicating kiss, your eyes meeting Azriel's darkened ones. In them, you saw the same man from your screen, but stripped bare of all performance, raw and entirely present. Eris chuckled softly against your neck, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there. "He always did love an audience," he mused, his words a warm puff of air. But his touch was reverent as he guided your hand, placing your palm flat against Azriel's chest, over the steady, strong beat of his heart. "Feel that?”

The rhythm under your hand was a rapid, living counterpoint to your own. You could feel the heat of his skin, the firm muscle, and the dark swirls of ink you knew so well. Azriel covered your hand with his own, pressing it more firmly against him as if to make sure you understood this was real. Eris's mouth traveled lower, finding the juncture of your neck and shoulder, and he bit down gently, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp and arch against the couch. The sound that escaped you was ragged, torn between two points of sensation. Azriel watched the movement, his eyes tracking the path of Eris's lips on your skin with a possessive intensity that made your stomach clench.

"You're so responsive," Eris murmured against your skin, his voice thick with admiration. "Every little shiver, every gasp. Azriel, she's perfect." The praise, coming from him, felt like a different kind of touch. Azriel's answering smile was a rare, unguarded thing, a flash of white in the dim light. He leaned in, his lips replacing his thumb on your pulse point, kissing the frantic beat there. "I know," he said simply, and the raw honesty in those two words undid you completely. Your free hand lifted, seeking purchase, and found the solid line of Eris's thigh beside you. You squeezed, and he made a soft, approving sound, shifting so your fingers could curl more naturally against him.

The world narrowed to the space between the three of you - the shared breath, the slide of fabric, the symphony of quiet sounds. Azriel's mouth left your neck, traveling downward until his lips met the collar of your shirt. He caught the material between his teeth, tugging gently, a wordless question in his lifted gaze. You nodded, a quick, breathless motion. His hands went quickly under the hem line, his movements deliberate and slow, as he drew the t shirt higher and higher, allowing you to drag your arms free. Eris watched, his earlier playfulness replaced by a focused stillness. When the fabric reached your head, Azriel peeled it off, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. A low whistle escaped Eris, not crude, but genuinely impressed.

Azriel's fingers traced the newly revealed skin, following the curves of your body like a path he knew from a hundred different camera angles. His touch was worshipful. "I've imagined this," he confessed, his voice a rough scrape against the quiet. "The way that your skin would feel under my hands." You trembled, and Eris's arm tightened around your shoulders in response, a steadying anchor. "Don't just imagine," Eris urged him, his own hand coming to rest lightly on Azriel's wrist, guiding his touch lower. "Show her." The collaboration between them, this unspoken understanding, sent a fresh wave of heat through you. Azriel needed no further encouragement.

His mouth followed the path his fingers had charted, branding your skin with a heat as he kiss and nipped at your skin. You cried out, the sound swallowed by the quiet room, and your head fell back against Eris's shoulder. He turned his face into your hair, inhaling deeply. "That's it," he coaxed, his voice a dark melody in your ear. "Let him hear you. Let us both hear you." The encouragement broke another dam inside you. Your hands moved restlessly, one fisting in Azriel's hair as he lavished attention on you, the other gripping Eris's knee until his own hand came to cover yours, lacing your fingers together.

He hovered above you, a silhouette of taut muscle and dark ink framed by the low light, and the sheer reality of him stole your breath. Eris moved to kneel beside the couch, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts. "Let's not have any barriers," he suggested, his voice a smoky promise. The drag of the flimsy cotton down your legs was excruciatingly slow, with each inch of skin it passed. Azriel watched, his chest rising and falling with a deep, controlled rhythm, his gaze a physical caress that followed the path of the fabric. Once you were free of them, Eris tossed the shorts aside, his hands immediately returning to stroke up the length of your calves. "Stunning," he breathed, the word holding genuine awe.

Azriel lowered himself, his body settling into the space between your legs with a deliberate, possessive grace. The weight of him was an anchor, solid and real. He braced himself on his forearms, caging you in, and for a long moment he simply looked at you, his dark eyes tracing every feature as if committing this version of you to memory. "Hello, angel," he said, the nickname from countless private chats now a living thing in the charged air between you. You reached up to touch his face, your thumb brushing over the sharp line of his cheekbone. "Hi sir," you whispered back, the words thick with emotion. Eris's hand slid along your thigh, his touch a brand of approval.

A low growl rumbled in Azriel's chest at the title, his eyes darkening further. "Say that again," he demanded, his voice rough velvet. You swallowed, the intensity of his focus a palpable force. "Sir." The word was barely more than a breath, but it seemed to ignite something in him. He captured your mouth in a kiss that was all claiming possession, his tongue sweeping past your lips to taste you deeply. Eris's fingers tightened on your thigh, his own breath hitching as he watched. When Azriel finally broke the kiss, both of you were panting. His eyes locked on your own as he lowered further down your body, positioning one of your own legs over his shoulder, as a smirk plastered his face. You mouth parted in realisation.

The first touch of Azriel's mouth against you was electric, a shock of pure sensation that arched your back off the couch. A broken cry tore from your throat, your fingers scrabbling for purchase in his dark hair. He didn't hesitate, his tongue finding a devastating rhythm that spoke of intimate knowledge, as if he'd studied every sigh and gasp from across the digital divide and was now proving his mastery in person. Your vision blurred at the edges, the world narrowing to the relentless, perfect pressure of his mouth. Eris watched from his place beside you, his gaze so intense it felt like a physical touch. He didn't speak, his earlier commentary replaced by a rapt, hungry silence

His hand smoothed up your trembling stomach to rest just below your ribs, a warm, steadying weight. You turned your head, your cheek pressed against the cool leather, and found Eris's eyes already waiting. The raw desire in his green gaze was a mirror to the fire Azriel was stoking between your thighs. "Look at how he worships you," Eris murmured, his voice thick. He leaned closer, his breath fanning your cheek. "Every sound you make, he drinks it in. Let me hear more." As if on command, Azriel's technique shifted, a clever flick of his tongue that pulled a sharp, ragged moan from deep within your chest. Eris's lips curved in a smile of pure satisfaction. He bent his head, his mouth finding the shell of your ear.

His tongue traced the delicate curve before he whispered, "So good for him. But I want a taste, too." His words were a sinuous promise that coiled in your belly. Without breaking his devastating rhythm, Azriel made a low sound of assent, a vibration against your most sensitive skin that made you gasp. Eris's kiss trailed from your ear down the column of your throat, his teeth grazing your pounding pulse before he continued his descent. His path intersected with Azriel's dark hair, and you felt him pause, his breath hot on your inner thigh. Azriel shifted minutely, creating space, and then Eris's mouth was there, a second point of exquisite contact, his tongue stroking a complementary rhythm alongside Azriel's.

The dual sensation was overwhelming, a symphony of pleasure that short-circuited coherent thought. Your hands fell from Azriel's hair to clutch at the couch cushions, your knuckles white. A high, keening sound escaped you, unbidden. Eris hummed in approval against your skin, the vibration mingling with Azriel's more focused efforts. They moved together with an instinctive synchronicity, a shared goal written in every lick and sigh. You were utterly surrounded by them, consumed by the heat of their mouths and the solid reality of their bodies. The building pressure within you coiled tighter and tighter, a spring wound to its breaking point. Eris lifted his head, his lips glistening, and his eyes met Azriel's over the trembling plane of your body.

That silent communication held for a heartbeat, a current of understanding passing between them that was as intimate as any touch. Then, Eris shifted, leaning across you. He cupped the back of Azriel's head, his fingers tangling in the dark strands still damp from his efforts. He pulled him up, and Azriel came willingly, his lips parted and glistening. They met in a kiss above you, not a gentle brush but a deep, claiming convergence. You watched, mesmerized, as Eris's tongue swept into Azriel's mouth, tasting what was yours. It was raw and possessive, a visual echo of the collaboration they had just performed on your body. A soft groan escaped Azriel, his hand coming up to grip Eris's shoulder, anchoring them together. The sight of it, their shared hunger so openly displayed, sent another dizzying wave of heat through your core. When they parted, both breathing heavily, their attention snapped back to you with renewed focus. Azriel's thumb brushed your lower lip, his eyes dark and intent. "Your turn, angel" he said, his voice gravelly with promise. Eris's hand smoothed down your side, his touch proprietorial. "We're just getting started, kitten.”

Tags <3

@jennigsonl @owned-by-tiny-velociraptors @lilah-asteria @tempo-rary-fix @acourtofbatboydreams

[ivy-goldrush]

Inked Longing - 6

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist | previous | next

Camboy!azriel x reader

Warnings: angst, tension, suggestive smut

18+ MDNI

📝: 2.4k

Your eyes were wide with startle, flickering quickly between him and Azriel. Taking in both there appearances, the time, the location in which he came from. Heat slowly crept up your neck as you continued to glance at the two.

You saw as Azriels head dipped slightly, a deep sigh vibrating from his chest, watching his fingers come to pinch the bridge of his nose. Your gaze travelled back to the other, who had now pushed himself away from the doorway. His hips swayed as he saunter across the room, eyes locked onto your own. You stood there, mouth slightly apart as he stopped dead in front of you. His chuckle was deep and rich, and his touch was hot, as he placed his fingers just on your chin, tilting your head back to meet his golden eyes. The smirk was playful on his lips, taunting yet inviting.

“Cat got your tongue, kitten?” The smooth richness of his voice paired with that cocky attitude was enough to shock you into a silence.

His thumb brushed a light, startling stroke along your jawline before Azriel's voice, low and strained, cut through the thick air. "Eris." The single word held a warning you'd never heard from him before, not during any of those late-night streams.

Eris dropped his hand, but his gaze didn't waver. "What, Az? Can't I say hello to your guest?" He took a deliberate step back, his eyes flicking to the laptop still glowing on the coffee table. "Especially one who's such a dedicated fan. The ones who always stay until the very end of a stream are my favorite kind.”

A cold dread washed over you, sharper than any embarrassment. Azriel moved then, a swift blur of black fabric and quiet intensity as he closed the distance. His hand clamped firmly on Eris's shoulder, pulling him back and away from you with a force that spoke of long-practiced urgency. "We need to talk," Azriel stated, his voice leaving no room for argument as he guided, almost shoved, the smirking redhead toward the hallway. "Now." Eris allowed himself to be steered, throwing a glance over his shoulder that was all playful challenge. "Don't go anywhere, kitten," he called out, the nickname, new and unsure, hung in the air as you watched the two males fall into the bedroom.

The bedroom door clicked shut, but you could still hear the low, urgent rumble of their voices through the thin wall. Your legs felt unsteady, and you sank onto the edge of Azriel's sofa, the soft leather cool against your skin. The apartment smelled like him - sandalwood and clean linen - a scent you now realized you'd unconsciously memorized from the evening spent here with friends just hours before. You stared at your hands, the reality of the situation settling in with a dizzying weight. The man who you felt you knew everything yet nothing about was just a few feet away, arguing with his... partner? Friend? Your mind reeled, replaying Eris's knowing smile, the possessive way Azriel had pulled him back.

You couldn’t help but let your mind go into overdrive with what was happening. Azriel had made an advance in you just hours before. The memory of the act replayed in your head, the weight of his body pressing against your own, the way his lips felt against yours and the sounds that came from him and you intertwining. You dragged your hands over your face, trying, but failing miserably, to grasp what was happening here

The low murmur of their argument was a steady, indecipherable hum from the other room. You focused on the quiet of the living space instead, your eyes tracing the familiar spines of books on a shelf you'd only ever seen in the blurred background of his streams. It felt surreal to be surrounded by the tangible reality of a world you'd only witnessed through a screen. A soft thump against the shared wall made you flinch, followed by Eris's voice, clearer now but still muffled. " - just having a little fun, Az. You're the one who invited her into your real life." There was a pause, and then Azriel's reply, too low to catch the words but carrying a weight that felt like stone in your stomach.

You stood, your movements stiff, and walked to the window. The city lights glittered below, a chaotic mirror to the turmoil inside you. The door behind you opened with a soft creak. You didn't turn, holding your breath as footsteps approached across the wooden floor. They stopped a few feet away. The silence stretched, filled only by the distant sound of traffic. "I owe you an explanation," Azriel said, his voice closer than you expected, stripped of its usual smooth confidence. It was just tired.

You finally turned to face him. He stood alone, his shoulders slumped slightly, the vibrant energy he projected online completely absent. The absence of Eris in the room felt louder than his presence had been. "Who is he?" you asked, your own voice sounding small. Azriel ran a hand through his dark hair, a gesture you'd seen a hundred times on screen, but now it seemed weighed down by something real. "That's Eris. We... worked together. A long time ago." He hesitated, his eyes searching your face as if looking for a sign of what you already knew. “We had agreed to do another show together tonight but I….. you wer…….” His sigh sounded defeated as his sentence trailed off.

You could still hear shuffling from the bedroom. The sound of Eris moving about before he poked his head out of the room. He leaned against the doorframe, a fresh cigarette already between his lips, unlit. His gaze was fixed on Azriel's back. "You're making this boring," he announced, his voice a lazy drawl that sliced through the tension. Azriel didn't turn around, but you saw the muscles in his jaw tighten. "Go wait in there, Eris." Eris chuckled, the sound dry and humorless. He pushed off the frame and sauntered toward the kitchen, ignoring what Azriel had asked of him.

He opened the refrigerator with the casual ownership of someone who had done it a thousand times, pulling out a bottle of water. "We're all adults here," Eris said, twisting the cap off. "Why don't we just talk? Sit." He gestured with the bottle toward the sofa you had just vacated, his eyes landing on you with an unnerving directness. "Unless you'd rather leave. But something tells me you have questions." Azriel finally turned, his expression a complicated mix of frustration and resignation. He gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod toward the couch. The unspoken invitation hung in the air, heavy with implication. You moved first, settling back onto the cushions, putting a careful distance between where you sat and where Azriel would likely sit.

Eris claimed the armchair opposite, sprawling with an infuriating ease, while Azriel sat on the far end of the sofa, the space between you feeling like a chasm. The redhead took a long drink, his eyes never leaving you. "So," he began, setting the bottle down on the coffee table with a soft click. "Azriel and I have a history. We built our audiences together, back when this was all just for fun." He waved a hand vaguely. "Partners. In every sense the camera saw." Azriel stared at his own hands, clenched in his lap. "It was a long time ago." "Not so long that the chemistry's gone cold," Eris countered smoothly, his smile sharp. "The fans still ask about us.”

You found your voice, though it felt fragile. "What kind of partners?" The question was quiet, directed more at the space between them than at either man. Eris's grin widened, but it was Azriel who answered, his words measured and low. "Performance partners. We created content together for a couple of years. It was... successful." He finally looked at you, his dark eyes holding a plea for understanding. "But it wasn't real. Not like that." Eris snorted, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Speak for yourself, darling. The connection was real enough for the viewers. They ate it up." He glanced at you, his gaze assessing. "You've seen the old clips, I assume? The ones people still repost?”

You hadn't, actually. You'd only ever sought out Azriel's solo work, the quiet intensity of 'Inked. Longing' that felt private, somehow meant for you. The idea of him sharing that space with someone as openly provocative as Eris sent an unexpected pang through your chest. "I haven't," you admitted, and Azriel's shoulders seemed to relax a fraction. Eris looked genuinely surprised, then amused. "A purist. How refreshing." He leaned back, draping an arm over the back of the chair. "Well, it was good business. We played off each other. He was the brooding, mysterious one. I was the... spark." His smile turned self-deprecating.

"It was more than business," Eris said, his playful tone shifting into something quieter, almost thoughtful. He picked at the label on his water bottle. "We were friends first. Real ones. Shared a shitty apartment, ate ramen for a month when the ad revenue dipped." He glanced at Azriel, who was staring fixedly at a point on the floor. "He bailed when things got... complicated. When the lines started to blur for him." Azriel's head snapped up. "That's not what happened." "Isn't it?" Eris challenged, but there was no heat in it now, only a weary honesty. "You wanted something separate. Something just yours. I get it." He looked back at you, his golden eyes surprisingly soft.

The confession hung in the air, softening the sharp edges of the room. You watched as Azriel's rigid posture finally eased, a silent acknowledgment passing between the two men that spoke of old wounds and complicated history. It was Eris who broke the quiet again, his usual bravado returning like a familiar mask. "Anyway," he said, pushing himself up from the chair. "I've overstayed my dramatic welcome. I only came by to pick up my charger." He walked to a side table near the television and retrieved a black cord, coiling it neatly in his hand. At the door, he paused, looking back at Azriel. "Call me about next week's plan. Or don't." His gaze then slid to you, lingering for a moment. "It was interesting to meet you.”

“Lying doesn’t suit you, Eris” your voice was quiet, soft but yet still stern and his name felt unfamiliar on your tongue, but easy enough to get used to. You knew damn well that he wasn’t just there for a charger. “Sit back down, we are not done here.” You had found your voice, it was clearer and demanding of instruction.

Eris paused, his hand on the doorknob, and a slow, genuine smile spread across his face. He released the handle and turned, leaning back against the door with an air of amused respect. "Alright, kitten. You've got claws." He sauntered back to the armchair, sinking into it with a renewed focus on you. Azriel watched this exchange, a strange tension tightening his frame - part protectiveness, part something else entirely. "So what's the real question?" Eris asked, propping his chin on his hand. "You want the gritty details of our professional breakup? The fan theories are usually more interesting." You held his gaze, the initial shock now fully replaced by a determined clarity. "I want to know why you're really here tonight.”

Eris leaned forward, elbows perched on his knees as his mouth curled up. “It’s funny you should ask that, cause I also want to know why you’re here. Why show up at Azriels door if nothing was wrong?” Eris’ head cocked to the side slightly as he maintained eye contact. You felt the sofa move next to you before Azriel spoke. “Surprisingly, I agree with Eris on this one: Why did you knock on my door in the middle of the night?”.

The heat that had been creeping up your neck now flooded your cheeks, a scorching truth you hadn't planned to voice. You looked down at your own hands, twisting in your lap. The silence grew thick, charged with the unspoken. "I couldn't sleep," you finally murmured, the admission feeling ripped from you. You chanced a glance at Azriel. His expression had shifted from guarded curiosity to something far more intense, a dark understanding dawning in his eyes. He remembered, just as vividly as you did, the way that your bodies had fit together, the moans you both gave into, the feeling of your lips on his. Eris watched the silent exchange between the two of you, noting the blush that had now crept up your neck.

A slow, knowing smile curved Eris's lips. "Ah," he said softly, the single syllable loaded with implication. He leaned back, stretching his arms along the back of the chair, his gaze a tangible weight moving between you and Azriel. "The plot thickens." Azriel shifted on the couch, the leather creaking under his weight. His focus was entirely on you, a magnetic pull that made the few feet between you feel insignificant. "After our kiss…?" he stated, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate in the quiet room. It wasn't really a question. You managed a small, helpless nod, unable to look away from him.

The memory of that single, searing kiss in your own apartment, one of collision of longing and surprise, it replayed behind your eyes. It had been a spontaneous, desperate thing after you'd recognized his voice, after the months of listening to it in the dark. You'd meant to leave, to process the shock, but your body had moved on its own. And now, hours later, the ghost of it still tingled on your lips, an itch nothing but its source could possibly soothe. Eris watched the silent communication, the way Azriel's throat worked as he swallowed. "So you came back for a remedy," Eris mused, his tone shifting from teasing to something more observant. "And instead, you got me." He didn't sound apologetic.

A charged silence settled, thick with possibilities. Azriel's gaze remained locked on you, but a new tension had entered his posture - a wariness that wasn't directed at you, but at the scenario unfolding. Eris observed this internal struggle, his smile turning predatory. "Seems a shame to leave a problem unsolved," he purred, rising from the armchair with liquid grace. He didn't approach the sofa; instead, he moved to lean against the wall near the television, crossing his arms. He was giving space, yet his presence became a focal point, a deliberate part of the equation. "Azriel has always been... conscientious," Eris continued, his eyes gleaming. "He worries about mixing business with pleasure.”

Tags <3

@jennigsonl @owned-by-tiny-velociraptors @lilah-asteria

[ivy-goldrush]

Oh boy I am having so much fun writing part 6 right now. I am switching between giggling and screaming at this part

[ivy-goldrush]

Somehow part 6 has progressed to PART 10. HOW. Someone needs to teach me how to end things as I fear that this will progress to like 20 parts if you let me

[ivy-goldrush]

Oh boy I am having so much fun writing part 6 right now. I am switching between giggling and screaming at this part

[ivy-goldrush]

Inked Longing - 5

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist | previous | next

Camboy!Azriel x reader

Warnings: Suspense, Suggestive smut (if you squint ever so slightly) Not been proofread!

18+ MDNI

📝: 851

Sleep was a taunting stranger, leaving you tossing and turning between the sheets. The constant memory replaying on your mind. The way in which his touch felt on your skin and how his los fit against your own. That familiar ache crept its way, heaving and insistent, between your legs, begging for attention. Every blink was met with a new image of him, his smirk, the weight of his hand against your thigh, yhe deepness of his voice. Your imagination began the expand, creating new images of him, his face, that mouth and gods what he could possibly do with it.

Frustration hit and coiled in your stomach, tight and hot. It was infuriating, no matter what you did, you could no longer reach any relief. This was his doing. His expert, maddening teasing had left you like this: very awake, throbbing; utterly and impossibly desperate.

With a groan of defeat, you kicked off the tangled sheets and began to reach for your laptop. Only to hesitate slightly. The hesitation, a brief pause on an old habit. Your heart hammered against your ribs. *He* was there. Right there. Only a couple of doors down from your own.

Before you could stop yourself, you threw the sheets back, climbing out of bed. Your feet padded barefoot across the floor, into the kitchen. It was only when you reached your front door that you dared to look down at what you were wearing. An old, oversized band tee hung loosely over your frame, reaching just below your upper thigh, hiding the sleep shorts that you wore.

Your breathe was quick and deep as you grabbed your keys with one hand and the door handle with the other. Before you could talk yourself out of this, you swung the door open and stepped into the hallway.

Thoughts raced with what ifs and doubts about what you were about to do. Breath quickening and echoing throughout the quiet corridor. You came to a halt, hand raised as if to knock, mind whirling with all the possible ways that this could play out. Who was to say that Azriel was even awake still? Sucking in a sharp gulp of air, you let you fist connect with the door in three swift knocks. You could hear your heart beating in your ears as the seconds ticked on. 1 second quickly become 15, as you starting regretting your decision, adrenaline wearing off, being replaced now with growing panic. How long should you wait? Deciding that this was a stupid plan to follow through, you began to turn away from the door.

Then you heard it. So brief and quiet that if it was any other time of day you would have missed it. Footsteps, soft but definetly footsteps. And then a click, the lock turning, opening and realising as the door was pulled open for you to be met with him. Thoroughly dazed and confused as to why someone would be knocking on his door in the middle of the night.

You let your eyes wander briefly over him. Hair tousled, chest shirtless, tensed and slightly glistening in what you presumed was sweat and grey sweatpants hanging very low on his hips. Your eyes flicked up to his face as his eyes locked with your own. His chest rose with every breath he took, lips parting before he whispered.

“Y/N? Wh-what are you doing?” His voice was raw as confusion littered his face, brows creasing in concern. “Are you okay?” His eyes darted briefly around the hallway, looking to what was behind you but failing to find anything of alarm.

The door creaked open slightly more as Azriel stepped to the side and nodded for you to come in. Your heartbeat picked up, thrumming a quick beat in your throat, as you stepped inside. You stood there, taking in your surroundings of the place you were in mere hours ago. The soft click of the door closing brought you back to reality as you glanced back up to Azriel face. His eyes held your own, pinched with concern, his cheeks rosy pink. He placed his hand upon your shoulder in an attempt to focus you.

“Y/n, is everything all okay? What’s wrong?” His voice was calm as it was deep, and seemed to send vibrations through your body. Your mind was still whirling. You hadn’t thought this far ahead, you didn’t even think he would even open the door. You stood there, mildly doumbfounded, as your mouth seemed to open and close and open. It was as if you had briefly been possessed by a goldfish. As you took a deep breath to string together some words, you noticed how his eyes flickered from your face to the room behind you and back. That was when you heard a slight creak of a floor board and deep breath of someone else.

Before anything could stop you, you spun around to see who was there. Against the doorframe of Azriel’s bedroom, leaned a tall, broad male, who’s playful voice seem to purr through the room.

“Well… Who are you?” …

Taglist: @jennigsonl @owned-by-tiny-velociraptors

[ivy-goldrush]

PLEASE CONTINUE INKED LONGING

I am continuing it! Life and writers block have been my downfall but don’t worry there’s a new part coming very soon 👀

[wonders-of-the-cosmos]

A star cluster glowing softly in the void with faint, reddish background galaxies in the spaces between.

by Judy Schmidt

[ivy-goldrush]

Inked longing - 4

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist | previous | next

Camboy!Azriel x reader

Warnings: Tension! also mainly a filler chapter? Not been proofread!

18+ MDNI

📝: 1.8k

The two of you walked back to his apartment in silence, both with arms full of snacks. Your cheeks were still pink from what had occurred in your own flat. Arriving at the door, Azriel simply kicked the door twice with his foot. The door swung open to reveal a very impatient looking Cassian.

"We were starting to think you had gotten lost! What took you guys so long?" You exchanged a quick glance with Azriel, feeling heat creep up your neck. His lips twitched with the hint of a suppressed smile. "Snack hunting takes time," Azriel said smoothly, his voice low and neutral. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, acutely aware of the lingering heat between your thighs and the secret that now hummed just beneath the surface of your skin.

The two of you pushed past Cassian, making your way to the group gathered in the living room. Nesta was still sprawled out on the couch, and Elara and Mor were both cosied up on the floor, simply leaving the very small love seat available. It looked more like an oversized armchair if you were being honest. As you put the snacks on the table, you glanced up to see where Azriel had gone, and surely enough, he had made his way to the love seat. His eyes met yours, with an all knowing smirk coating his lips.

You hesitated for half a second, eyes flicking from the love seat to the larger couch where Cassian and Nesta were already bickering over the remote. Elara caught your eye, that knowing smile already tugging at her lips.

“Oh, come on,” she said, nudging Mor. “You can fit there unless, you’re scared to share.”

“Not scared,” you said quickly, maybe a little too quickly.

Azriel’s smirk deepened, and he patted the seat beside him, voice low and smooth.

“Plenty of room, angel.”

Your pulse stuttered at the nickname, the memory of what had happened minutes ago in your kitchen burned into the back of your mind. You crossed the room, trying to look composed, but your legs still felt unsteady. When you sank down beside him, your knees brushed his.

The space was much smaller than you’d realised, or maybe he was just too large for it. His arm rested easily along the back of the seat, his fingers barely grazing your shoulder sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“Comfortable?” he asked softly, turning his head just enough that his breath ghosted across your cheek.

You shot him a look, cheeks flushing, your voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

His lips twitched. “Immensely.” He leaned forward reaching for the blue velvety throw in front of you, watching as he draped it over the two of you, his hands deliberately ghosting your skin. Your breath hitched as you glanced up at him, noting the small smirk starting to appear on his lips.

Trying to make yourself less tense and more comfortable, you shifted and tried to relax your body. Leaning slightly into Azriel, you noted how his body reacted to yours.

Your attention snapped back to reality when from across the room, Cassian crunched into a handful of crisps and groaned. “Finally! Movie time. Nobody move or talk or-”

“Cass,” Mor interrupted sweetly, “you’ve talked through every movie we’ve watched this month.”

“Yeah, and you love it,” he shot back with a mouth full of crisps.

The noise gave you a moment to breathe or at least try to. The room dimmed as the opening scene flickered across the TV, and the shadows wrapped around you both. His thigh pressed against yours, solid and warm and constant. He didn’t move away.

You tried to focus on the movie, but your awareness of him was unbearable. Every shift of his body, every breath he took seemed to pull your attention. When he leaned forward to grab a handful of popcorn, his shoulder brushed yours. When he leaned back again, his fingers brushed your arm, whether by accident or not, you couldn’t tell.

“You’re fidgeting,” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Because you’re sitting too close,” you muttered back, eyes fixed stubbornly on the screen.

“I’m just sitting,” he said innocently. “You’re the one acting like I’m up to no good.”

You turned your head, narrowing your eyes at him. “You are up to no good.”

The corner of his mouth curved upward, slow and wicked. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for a snack, mostly to distract yourself. But his hand moved at the same moment, fingers brushing yours over the bowl. The contact was brief, accidental, yet it sent a pulse of heat through you. He didn’t pull away immediately. Neither did you.

Cassian’s booming laugh broke the tension, making you both jolt slightly apart. You dropped your gaze, your face burning.

Azriel leaned closer, his voice a whisper right against your ear.

“You’re blushing again.”

“Shut up.”

He chuckled quietly, the sound deep and genuine. “You make that very difficult.”

You bit your lip to keep from smiling, but it was useless. He noticed anyway, of course he did. His gaze lingered on your mouth for just a beat too long before he finally turned back to the movie, arm still stretched casually along the back of the seat, close enough that you could feel the faint brush of his fingers against your shoulder, steady and deliberate.

And for the most of the movie, every breath, every subtle touch, every shared glance felt like its own quiet promise, one neither of you dared to speak aloud yet.

Until he shifted again, moving the blanket ever so slightly. You tried to pay him no intention, tried not to look at him. But it was so damn hard when you felt his warm hand make contact with your upper thigh, gently resting there, testing you. It took all your will power not to react, not to look at him or move your leg so he had better access. When his hand shifted higher and higher you broke.

“Azriel.” You hissed his name under your breath, but it only made him grin wider.

His hand stilled, the heat of it burning through the thin fabric of your jeans. “Relax, angel,” he murmured, voice low and teasing, “I’m just getting comfortable.”

You shot him a look that could have cut through steel, but it only seemed to amuse him more. The movie’s glow danced across his features, the faintest curl at the corner of his mouth, the soft flicker in his eyes as he looked at you like he was memorising every shade of your blush.

“Comfortable?” you whispered sharply.

He leaned in until his lips were near your ear, his breath brushing against your skin. “Not really,” he said. “You keep squirming.”

You gaped at him, caught somewhere between scandalised and flustered. “You’re insufferable.”

He hummed quietly, a low, satisfied sound. “And yet, you haven’t moved.”

Your heart gave a traitorous flutter. You tried to focus on the movie; the flicker of light, the sound of laughter from Mor and Elara, Cassian’s loud commentary. But all you could feel was Azriel’s hand, warm and steady on your thigh.

Minutes passed like that, neither of you moving, tension stretched thin between you. At one point, you reached for your drink, and his hand slipped away, casual, as if nothing had happened. But when you leaned back again, it returned as a silent, deliberate touch. Not demanding, not rushed. Just there.

You didn’t dare look at him, not until the credits finally rolled and someone yawned loudly. The spell broke instantly.

Cassian groaned, stretching. “Another masterpiece of cinema ruined by your commentary,” Mor teased, tossing a cushion at him.

“Admit it, I make everything better,” Cassian said smugly, ducking the cushion.

“Sure,” Nesta muttered, standing and brushing crumbs off her leggings. “In small, infrequent doses.”

Laughter filled the room, easy and light. You forced yourself to join in, standing to help gather the empty plates and bowls. Azriel didn’t move at first, he sat there watching you with that same unreadable half-smile, before finally rising to his feet.

You caught his gaze across the room for half a second. The memory of his touch, the look in his eyes, the word angel on his tongue; it all flooded back in a rush so strong it made your breath stutter.

“Thanks for hosting,” you said quickly, grabbing your phone and heading for the door before anyone could notice your flustered state.

“Leaving so soon?” Elara called out, still curled up on the floor with Mor.

“It’s late,” you managed, trying to sound casual. “And I’ve got an early morning.”

You could feel Azriel’s gaze on your back even before he spoke. “I’ll walk you.”

The words were quiet but final. You didn’t protest, though part of you wanted to, mostly because your legs still felt unsteady from being that close to him. The others exchanged knowing looks, but no one said a word.

Outside, the hallway was dim and still. Your apartment door was only a few steps away, but the walk felt longer than it should have.

“Azriel,” you started softly, not sure what you meant to say.

He tilted his head, that familiar half-smile playing on his lips. “Yes, angel?”

You swallowed. “You can’t just-” You gestured vaguely, heat flooding your face. “do things like that in front of everyone.”

His brow quirked. “You didn’t seem to mind.”

You glared at him, but it only made his grin widen. He took a small step closer, the air between you tightening. “Relax,” he murmured, his voice low enough to make your pulse stutter. “If I really wanted to drive you crazy, I wouldn’t have stopped at your thigh.”

Your breath caught, the sound embarrassingly loud in the quiet hallway. “You,”

“Goodnight, angel,” he interrupted softly, eyes lingering on your lips. “Sleep well.”

And just like that, he turned, disappearing back into his apartment before you could find your voice.

You stood there for a long moment, heart pounding, a dozen words stuck in your throat. When you finally slipped into your own apartment, the air still seemed to hum with him. It was as if he was burned into you, his voice, his touch, the look in his eyes when he said your name.

You pressed your palms to your cheeks, groaning quietly. “What the hell am I doing?”

But even as you said it, you could still feel the ghost of his fingers on your skin and you knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning.

Taglist: @jennigsonl @owned-by-tiny-velociraptors

[ivy-goldrush]

Inked longing - 3

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist | previous | next

Camboy!Azriel x reader

Warnings: Smut, pure smut (with some plot if you can call if that)

18+ MDNI

📝: 3.2k

You stood outside his apartment door, balancing the stack of pizza boxes in one hand while fishing for your phone with the other to double-check the address. Apartment 513. This was definitely it, only four doors down from your own apartment. The butterflies in your stomach did another little flip as you shifted the warm boxes to get a better grip. It was the second time that you would be seeing him within the span of 24 hours and you was trying not to overthink it.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked three times on the door, the sound echoing slightly in the hallway. You could hear voices and laughter from inside, along with what sounded like the opening credits of a movie already starting. Great, you was probably late.

The door swung open, and there he was. Your breath caught for just a second as you took him in. He was wearing a fitted black compression shirt that hugged his chest and shoulders in a way that made it impossible not to notice how well sculpted his muscles were, paired with comfortable grey joggers that somehow managed to look effortlessly put-together. His hair was slightly tousled, like he'd been running his hands through it, and there was an easy smile spreading across his face when he saw you.

"Hey! You made it," he said, his voice warm with genuine enthusiasm. "And you brought reinforcements," he added, nodding toward the pizza boxes with an appreciative grin.

"I figured I couldn't show up empty-handed," You replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the way your pulse quickened when his eyes met your own. "Elara mentioned you guys always go overboard with the movie snacks, so I thought I'd contribute to the cause."

He stepped aside to let you in, and you caught a hint of his cologne as you passed, something clean and woodsy that made you want to linger just a moment longer in the doorway. But the sound of your friends calling out greetings from the living room snapped you back to reality, and you followed him inside, already looking forward to what promised to be a perfect evening.

The living room was warm and inviting, with soft lamplight casting a golden glow over the gathered group. Cassian and Nesta were already sprawled across the oversized sectional, while Mor was arranging an impressive array of snacks on the coffee table: everything from chips and salsa to what looked like homemade guacamole. You set the pizza boxes down on the edge of the table, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. Cassian raised an eyebrow and gave you a knowing look that made you want to both roll your eyes and laugh. Nesta, true to form, was already reaching for a slice before anyone had even opened the first box, her long fingers moving with practiced efficiency.

Suddenly, Elara turned from where she'd been setting up the movie queue, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I see you finally brought the pizza," she said, her tone teasing and knowing. Her gaze flickered between you and Azriel, a subtle hint of matchmaking intent that made my cheeks warm slightly. You felt a sudden rush of warmth that had nothing to do with the pizza boxes or the soft lamplight. The way Elara was looking at you, that knowing, slightly conspiratorial smile, made you want to both laugh and hide. But before you could formulate a response, he reached past you and grabbed a slice of pepperoni pizza, his arm brushing against mine in a way that sent a tiny electric spark through my skin. The moment hung suspended, charged with something unspoken and deliciously uncertain.

As the night progressed, the soft buzz of the movie blended in with the conversation around us. You found myself hyper-aware of his proximity, the way your shoulders occasionally brushed when one of you reached for a slice of pizza, the way his laugh seemed to resonate just slightly differently when it was close to you.

Mor was telling some ridiculous story about a work event, her hands animating each twist and turn of the narrative, and you caught him glancing at you periodically, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Something about the way he was watching you made your breath catch, just for a moment.

Half way through the second movie that was playing Cassian had loudly announced that we had run out of snacks, which prompted Nesta to roll her eyes and mutter about him being the reason that you were out of them.

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, "I can grab some snacks from my apartment, I've always got a secret stash on hand." your cheeks slightly reddened as all eyes were on you. The responses ranged from Elara stating that ‘of course you have a secret stash’ to Cassian exclaiming ‘I knew I liked you for a reason’.

You were half way out the door when you heard Azriel’s soft and deep voice behind you.

“Hey y/n, wait up, I’ll give you a hand.”

Your steps faltered slightly as you muttered a brief ‘fuck’ at what was now evolving. Of course Azriel had to offer to help you, you were now just panicking that he was going to put two and two together. That he had seen every inch of your body except your face, that he had also seen different parts of your apartment as well.

You both reached the door to your apartment, Azriel a steady presence at your back. He didn’t crowd, but you could feel him there all the same, the quiet heat of him, the way his eyes seemed to track your every movement.

Your fingers trembled just slightly as you fumbled with the keys, the metal jingling louder than it had any right to.

“Forgotten how to get into your own place?” His tone was light, teasing, but low enough that it curled along your spine.

You huffed a laugh, trying to cover the way your pulse was hammering in your throat. “Apparently. Guess the snacks are really well protected.”

The lock finally gave with a click, but you hesitated, fingers still on the key. Because stepping inside with him meant stepping into your space. The same space that had been the blurred background of so many late-night calls. The same space he might already recognise, if he put the pieces together.

You pushed the door open anyway.

“After you,” he murmured, close enough that the warmth of his breath brushed your cheek.

Your heart was practically in your mouth as you crossed the threshold, every nerve screaming with the possibility that this was the moment, the one where he’d finally connect the dots.

As you wander into the kitchen, Azriel trailing behind, you hear him muttering to himself.

“Hmmm?” You turn around only to see him starring at a particular piece of art, one that has been in the background of your many late night chats. Your breath caught in your throat, a sudden spike of panic threading through your veins. The artwork: a simple cream canvas with swirled writing 'chef was cute' His eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of recognition flickering across his features. You held your breath, watching as he tilted his head, studying the artwork with an intensity that made your heart race. For a moment, the silence stretched between you, charged with unspoken possibility and the electric tension of a secret about to unravel.

"Wait a minute," Azriel murmured, his voice low and measured. The corner of his mouth twitched, was that amusement or something else entirely?

"Thats funny. I swear I’ve seen this exact view before." his voice was something between a chuckle and a revelation. His gaze locked onto yours, intense and knowing. You felt the world tilt on its axis, your carefully constructed walls suddenly paper-thin. One heartbeat. Two. The space between you charged with electricity, with the potential of a secret about to burst wide open. And in that moment, you knew everything was about to change.

You could feel the heat creeping up your cheeks as Azriel's eyes locked onto yours. Chest rising at an impossible speed, panic was bubbling inside you and you didn't know what was going to happen. You watched as he parted his lips with a slight sigh before breathing out that word.

“Angel?”

The word hung between you, heavier than the silence that followed. Angel.

You froze. Every instinct screamed at you to laugh it off, to deny, to push past him and shove a bag of chips into his hands like none of this was happening. But your body betrayed you, your breath stuttered, your gaze caught in his, and suddenly the room felt too small, too charged.

Azriel closed the distance in two measured steps. He didn’t rush, but there was a purpose in the way he moved, a gravity that pulled at something deep inside you.

Silence stretched, taut and trembling. His eyes searched yours, dark and intent, and then his hand lifted. Warm, calloused fingers brushed your jaw, cupping your face with a care that unraveled you.

“You’ve been under my nose this whole time,” he murmured, voice low and rough, like gravel dragged across velvet. His thumb traced the edge of your cheekbone. “How long have you known?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came. Just a shaky breath that gave you away completely.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Just the hum of the fridge, the thud of your heartbeat in your ears.

Then he leaned in, slow enough for you to pull back, to stop him. His lips grazed yours like a question, hesitant, testing.

And the second you answered, pressing forward, tilting up into him, the kiss shattered into want. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, deeper. The quiet hesitation broke, replaced by hunger, by heat, by the sharp edge of need that had been building for months.

Your fingers tangled in his shirt, clutching like you might drown without him, and the kiss turned desperate, consuming. There was no space left for denial, just you, him, and the fire that had finally caught.

His mouth was on yours like he’d been starving, and you were the only thing that could save him. Every kiss dragged deeper, slower, then sharper, your teeth grazing, his tongue sliding against yours, his grip tightening at your jaw like he couldn’t get close enough.

You gasped into him when his other hand found your waist, fingers digging into the curve of your hip through your shirt. The sound must have undone him, because his kiss turned rougher, more insistent, a low growl reverberating in his chest as he pressed you back against the edge of the counter.

Heat coiled low in your belly, fire racing under your skin. You clutched at him, tugging at the hem of his compression top, desperate for more, skin, heat, anything. He kissed you like he wanted to consume every secret you’d ever kept from him.

Azriel’s hand wandered from your waist, grazing its way up your body and found your breasts. His touch was firm as he squeezed, eliciting a moan from deep within. His hips stuttered forward at your sound, grinding himself into you causing a string of curse words to full from both of you.

His hand left your breast as he reconnected your lips together, this time travelling lower and lower, till it rested on the button of your jeans. The feeling of his fingers dancing on the button caused you to buck into him, whining for more. Your mouths broke apart as you sucked in a sharp breath.

“Sir, pleaseee” You voice was breathy and whiny as you strung out the please.

Groaning, Azriel made quick work with the button, removing his other hand that was holding your jaw to tug down your jeans. You whimpered at the loss of contact earning a deep chuckle from Azriel.

“Patience, angel, patience” he hummed at the way your body reacted to the pet name. “Gods, you drive me crazy, angel”.

And with that he dropped to his knees in front of you, hands grabbing your hips to pull them towards his face. Your hands instinctively found their way into his hair as your eyes went wide. Azriel’s grip was hungry, bruising, and you were glad for it. He nuzzled the hollow above your hip, breath hot on the skin before his mouth dragged along the waistband of your underwear.

There was nothing patient in the way that he mouthed the fabric, a low sound vibrating through him as he inhaled sharply. His hands clasped your thighs, holding you open.

You gasped, knuckles whitening around a fistful of his hair. Every slow exhale from him set your nerves alight.

He glanced up, lips wet, eyes black with it. The look alone nearly undid you. You wasn’t sure if you said his name out loud or only thought it, either way, Azriel’s smile turned wicked. With one deft movement, he hooked his fingers beneath the band and tugged the underwear down, slow, deliberate, grazing you causing you to suck in a sharp breath.

Azriel’s breath, impossibly hot, ghosted over your bare skin. You clung to the counter, nails digging tiny crescents into the laminate, half convinced if you let go you’d just collapse. His shoulders slotted perfectly between your thighs, and even on the tile floor he was so tall it felt like he’d just kneel there and devour you whole.

He kissed down your stomach, slow and deliberate, lips feather-light but singing with promise. His stubble scratched a blazing path to the top of your thigh, and you nearly yelped when his tongue flicked just above where you needed him. He nuzzled there, breathing you in, and you felt the vibration of a groan against your leg.

You tried to say his name. All that came out was a shuddering gasp. He smirked into your skin, bastard, and finally, finally, his mouth met you. The first press of his tongue undid you completely.

You braced on the countertop, muscles shaking, knuckles blanching white around the curve of the lip. His thumbs dug into your hips in a bruising grip, pinning you steady as his tongue traced a lightning bolt up the center of you.

Your vision blurred. The kitchen lights flickered overhead, stuttering in time with the frantic pulse beneath your skin. He licked again, slower, this time catching the throb in your clit between his mouth and teeth. You choked out a sound, raw and unfiltered, resulting in a deep hum of satisfaction from Azriel vibrating through you. Every flick of his tongue, every low, contented hum reverberated through your bones, until you couldn’t remember your own name, only the sound of his, rough and perfect. You gasped, choked on something between a laugh and a sob. He looked up, grinning with wolfish satisfaction, eyes locking onto your own as his lips encompassed your clit. He rolled it between his lips before sucking gently, then with escalating pressure, until the wet, needy sound of it echoed in the apartment. The sharp, obscene pleasure of it had your muscles locking, your head knocked against the upper cabinet as you arched. His hands dug into your hips to steady you; the way his tongue moved, deliberate, circling, then flattening and flicking, made your vision spot with heat.

You could barely string together a thought, just the relentless, sweet slick of his mouth, the sharp knock of your knee against the cabinet, as you tried to brace yourself against the edge. You could hear yourself whimpering his name, over and over, like it was the only word you had left.

Azriel looked up again, and you nearly sobbed at the sight of him, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, gaze black with intent. His hands slid up, pinning your thighs wider, angling you. You nearly lost your balance from the white-hot spike of sensation. His hands steadied you, fingers digging into your skin in a wordless command to stay exactly where you were. The tile under your feet turned slippery, a shock of cold against the heat that was devouring you from the inside out. You heard yourself, breath stuttering, helpless little sounds you’d never made before, maybe never even thought you could make.

He was merciless, flicking his tongue fast then slow, switching before you could adjust, keeping you just on the edge. You could taste copper in your mouth, and your fists tightened in his hair. When you risked a glance down, Azriel was watching you, eyes black with focus and wanting. He looked up through his lashes, and the sight nearly undid you, and you felt him hum against you, sending another jolt racing up your spine.

The pressure built, wild and blinding as he sucked harder, rolling your clit between his lips until you were on the verge, trembling above him, a mess of pleas pouring out in gasps. Azriel’s grip was implacable, his mouth relentless until you shattered, a firework blooming behind your eyelids, your legs threatening to give out as you came, fierce and messy and uncontainable.

You rode each wave, clutching uselessly at the counter, at his shoulders, at anything to anchor yourself as he licked you through it. He didn’t slow until you were half-feral with the oversensitivity, clawing at his arm, near-tears with how sharp and bright the pleasure had turned. Even then, he only eased off with agonising slowness, drawing the peak out until your head spun and your breath punched out in wrecked sobs.

He stayed crouched there for a moment, forehead pressed to your hipbone, his breath hot on your skin. The moment stretched, electric and charged as neither of you moved. Your chest rose slowly as you came down from your high. Your tangled fingers in his hair, began to comb through his curls, causing him to look up at you. He was a sight to behold, dark hair tousled, cheeks pink and lips swollen and glossy from your slickness. His eyes were dark as he glanced through his lashes, shoulders moving quickly with every breath he took. His lips parted at the same time yours did.

"That was -" "We should -" you both pause and Azriel chuckled slightly before speaking again. "The others are probably wondering whats taking so long." His voice was husky still with lust. He rose slowly from his knees, placing his arms on the counter either side of you, trapping you there. He leaned in and you breath hitched as his lips captured your own. One of his hands found your neck, causing you to gasp. Azriel took advantage of this, slipping his tongue into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself on him.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dizzy, Azriel's hand still cupped the back of your neck. With one final glance down at your lips, he pushed himself away from the counter you were against. He cleared his throat before speaking again.

"Snacks, we need snacks."

You were left completely dumb founded as you watched him rummage through your kitchen on a mission to find snacks for the group.

[ivy-goldrush]

Inked longing - 2

Camboy!Azriel x reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist | Previous | next

Warnings: possible mentions of smut; angst? idk what to call it?

18+ MDNI

📝: 2.1k

These calls became more and more frequent between the two of you, with you gradually finding the courage to turn on your camera. You kept the room dark, with only the laptop screen providing light, and you hid your face just as he did his. You couldn't pinpoint exactly when it happened, but over the past few months, the nature of your calls shifted from strictly being a means to pleasure each other to including casual conversation. The timing changed too - no longer limited to the middle of the night, you now connected in the early evening, talking about the most random things.

You rarely missed your evening calls, but occasionally life got in the way, tonight being one of those times. Your best friend Elara and her girlfriend Mor were hosting a Halloween party at Mor's place. Despite your initial reluctance, Elara eventually convinced you to join them. For the occasion, you'd chosen a simple yet elegant costume: a short, flowing white dress complemented by feathery angel wings.

Mor's place was packed with guests, but locating Elara was easy, you could hear her voice from across the room. She was dressed as some sort of water nymph or mermaid and looked stunning. Mor was dressed as a goddess, and together they looked like a pair of supermodels.

"Oh, Y/n, you must come and meet Mor's friends!" Elara practically beamed at you before grabbing your arm and dragging you further into the place. That's when you heard him. Before he even came into vision, you knew that voice like no other. You rounded the corner with Elara, and there was no denying it; the tattoos dancing over his arms confirmed it. Elara dragged you closer to them. Next thing you know, you're standing practically in front of the man who has seen you naked and heard the most filthy things come out of your mouth. And he had no idea, but you did, and for some reason your brain had decided that was the worst thing. Not that you were crammed into this place with goodness knows how many drunk, sweaty people, but the fact that you were standing in front of @ inked.longing who was dressed as what you presumed was a bat. And you, an angel.

You tried to grab your friend's attention, but that failed as she went straight into introductions. "Y/n, meet Mor's friends! This is Feyre and Rhysand; they have the most adorable toddler. This is Cassian and his girlfriend Nesta - Nesta has a book collection that rivals yours; Amren is around here somewhere with her fiancé, you'll meet them later; and this is Azriel." Your eyes met, and all you could offer up was a weak smile and a small wave before turning back toward Elara to try and get her attention, to no avail.

"Everything okay?" The softness of his voice sent an ache to your chest as your head whipped back to face him. You nodded your head and forced yourself to produce some type of dialogue.

“Um, yeah, I just…” You glanced around you, noticing that everyone was holding a cup. “Just need a drink.” You kept your voice quiet in the hopes that he wouldn’t recognise it; otherwise, you fear you would die from the embarrassment. And Azriel, being the gentleman, was quick to jump on the offer of showing you where the drinks are. You were just hoping he would give you directions, but instead you willed your feet to move. You trailed behind Azriel as he led you towards the kitchen and prayed that you wouldn’t get lost in the sea of people. You were so focused on what was happening that you failed to realise that you had already reached the kitchen and proceeded to walk into the back of Azriel, who had already stopped. You cursed when your nose came in contact with the plastic bat wings attached to his back. Azriel turned round, almost taking you out with the wings in the process.

His eyes were wide when he realised what had happened, taking in the vision of you rubbing your nose.

“Shit, y/n, are you okay?” His hands came either side of your face, cradling it as he looked over your features. You couldn't help but lock eyes with him as you felt the heat prick your cheeks. You didn’t know how long you were standing like that; it felt like forever and only a few seconds all at once. It wasn’t until you heard someone say his name that you both snapped out of the trance to look where it came from, though Azriel’s hands still held onto your face.

Your attention was brought to a stunningly beautiful redhead standing in the middle of the kitchen. She was in a sage green dress and had fairy wings attached to her back; her lips were drawn into a slight ‘o’ at the sight of the two of you. Azriel seemed to inwardly cringe and slowly removed his hands from your face only to place one on the small of your back. He leant down, hot breath tickling your ear.

“She’s an ex of mine. If I say something stupid, could you just play along?” He pulled back far enough for you to see the silent plea in his eyes. All you could do was nod and pray that this would be a very brief interaction.

Azriel ushered you forward to approach the women. Azriel cleared his throat before speaking.

“Gwyn, Hi,” he said, turning to look at you quickly before continuing, “this is y/n, my girlfriend.” The restraint that you had was unparalleled to stop you from turning to him and asking him to repeat what the fuck he had just said. Instead, you plastered a smile on your face and focused on Gwyn, whose mouth had snapped shut with a slight frown forming on her face. She simply nodded her head at the two of you.

“Nice to meet you. I’m going to find Emerie.”

And with that she was gone, heading further into the party, allowing you to turn towards Azriel, who simply threw his hands up in defence.

“I really need a drink,” you stated at him before finding a cup and grabbing the nearest liquor bottle you could find. Azriel placed his own cup down beside yours, dropping his head in his hands.

“Me too, y/n, me too.”

The two of you were trying your best to find the others, as it seemed that in the space of time you were both gone, they had moved spots. Azriel’s hand was clasping yours as he led you throughout the place trying to find a familiar face. It wasn't until the two of you had stumbled into the garden that you had the idea to check your phone. Only to be greeted with a bunch of messages from Elara stating that she and Mor were upstairs having some alone time, Feyre and Rhysand had gone home, and that she had no idea where anyone else was. To top it all off, you had just noticed that your phone battery was at 3%, and you still had to call for a ride home.

“Fuck my life,” you groaned dramatically and proceeded to brief Azriel on what was going on.

“What’s your address? I can call you a ride if you want.”

Ever the gentleman, you graciously accepted the offer and told him your address.

“Huh, we live in the same building.” His eyes flicked up to meet yours for a quick second.

“We do?” There was no point in hiding your shock and disbelief.

‘Hmmm’ That was the only reply as you watched him fiddle about on his phone. “Are you okay if we ride share, seeing as we live in the same building?”

“Oh yeah, sure.” Ride sharing was the logical thing to do, as it made no sense to book two different rides if you were both in the same building.

“Great! The car's gonna be out front in 2 minutes. Let's go.” Azriel grabbed your hand in his, tugging you gently towards the front of the house. You were hyper aware of how his hand felt in your own, how the weight of it felt just right. You were almost at the front of the house when you got separated from each other, causing you to panic in the sea of people. The ringing in your ears was deafening, and your head felt like it was going to burst. A hand clamped around your waist, causing your breathing to quicken, before another hand cradled the side of your head, turning it to face who was holding you. Your eyes met a pair of golden brown eyes; realisation hit that it was Azriel, but you still couldn't calm your breathing. Azriel removed his hand from the side of your head and moved it; the next thing you see is him bending down, feeling his arm scoop up your legs, and proceeding to carry you out of the house and into the night air.

“Breathe, y/n, breathe. There we go, in through your nose and out through your mouth.” His voice was gentle and reassuring. Repeating the words to you until you were breathing normally again and helped you into the car. The journey back to your building was only a short one at this time of night. Azriel helped you out of the car, clasping your hand in his once again as the two of you walked towards the lift.

The doors of the lift slide shut with a groan, trapping the two of you in a box of silence.

You fold your arms tight, wings from your angel costume brushing the mirrored wall behind you. Your heart hasn’t stopped pounding since you realised who he was - since you recognised those tattoos at the party.

Azriel presses the button for their floor, glancing sideways at you. His mouth quirks, casual, effortless.

“Quiet one, aren’t you?”

You swallow hard. “Long night.”

God, do I sound weird? He’s going to think I’m weird.

He leans back against the wall, the soft thud echoing in the narrow space. His arms, ink spiralling down the skin, catch your gaze again. You look away too quickly. Too obvious.

He notices. Of course he notices.

“What?” His voice is amused, curious. “Never seen tattoos before?”

You fumble. “No, I mean, yes. Just… unique.”

Oh my god. I really do sound like a weirdo now. Shit, wasn’t that what I said? That’s literally what I said online. He’s going to know.

The lift hums upward, the air thick with something unspoken. Then -

He tilts his head, studying your face with more intent this time. Not just a casual glance. His brows draw together like he’s trying to place you.

“You know…” His tone shifts lower, thoughtful. “You sound familiar.”

Your breath catches. “Do I?”

Too fast. Too sharp.

One corner of his mouth lifts, a shadow of a smirk. He doesn’t press, not yet. You reach your floor, doors sliding open. Both stepping out, the silence even heavier in the empty hallway.

He looks over you one last time, eyes burning your skin. His tongue darts out over his lips.

“I’ll see you around, y/n.” And with that, he turns and walks towards his own place, leaving you thoroughly confused.

Your head was pounding. Not the delicate kind of ache that whispered, 'Maybe drink some water,' but the full-throated roar of regret that came after too much cheap vodka and not enough food.

You groaned and buried your face in the pillow. The thin autumn light creeping through the blinds was far too bright, far too smug. You fumbled blindly for your phone on the nightstand, squinting as the screen flared to life.

Three missed notifications.

Two were junk.

The third was from Elara.

[Elara, 10:42 a.m.]

Movie/pizza night at Az’s tonight. You in?

You groaned again, rolling onto your back. The thought of greasy pizza both repulsed and intrigued you. But then another ping lit up your phone - another text from Elara.

[Elara, 10:43 a.m.]

Also… don’t freak out. But Azriel asked me to invite you. ;)

Your stomach did a violent flip, hangover forgotten. You sat up too fast and regretted it instantly as the room tilted.

He asked?

Images of last night came rushing back; tattoos, the lift ride, that awful twisting in your gut when you realised you knew and he didn’t. You pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“Oh, this is bad,” you muttered to the empty room. “This is so bad.”

[ivy-goldrush]

Inked Longing - 1

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist | next

Camboy!Azriel x reader

Warnings: Smut, pure smut :)

18+ MDNI

📝: 3.1k

Your laptop screen lit up the dark room as you desperately searched for something, anything, to help with your release. You typed in the name of your favourite site and scrolled through video after video; however, the lack of inspiration for you just added to the frustration.

Your eyes flickered across the screen to the pulsing button stating 'LIVE'. You had never explored this section of the website, but, hey, desperate times call for desperate measures? You clicked the button, and after one scroll, you found something that whetted your appetite.

@ inked.longing

Clicking the stream, you were met with tawny skin against midnight silk sheets. His muscles looked sculpted, and gods, the tattoos made your mouth water. The pitch-black ink swirled over his shoulders and across his pecs, trailing down his arms and up toward his neck. Your breath hitched as you took in the screen filled with his tattooed torso, your eyes transfixed on his hand pumping his thick, lengthy cock.

His motions hypnotised you as your hand travelled between your legs. Your other hand reached for the volume button on your laptop, turning it on to reveal deep, guttural moans followed by occasional "Ah... Shit" and "fuck, fuuuucccck" exclamations. You watched as his hand pumped faster, and you matched your pace to his. Warmth pooled in your belly as you observed his hand moving up and down his length, your breath hitching as he gave the head of his cock a light squeeze. Your stomach tightened watching a bead of pre-cum form as his speed quickened.

His tattooed hand, rough and slow at the base, sped up with a single-mindedness that tightened every inch of your nerves.

Your hand slid slick over skin, mimicking his rhythm. You pressed the heel of your palm to your clit, chasing the same release painting his chest with sweat. Orgasm pressed behind your teeth, bubbling, and just out of reach. You lost yourself in the speed – the slick, obscene soundtrack of skin and hand and stuttered breathing. Onscreen, his body bowed, strained, trembling with the effort.

Your breath fanned the heat from your lips as you edged closer. He let out a strangled gasp, hips bucking upward. You wondered if he went live for someone specific, if each expletive was meant for one person, a lover or a faceless subscriber, if he knew how feral he looked. The camera shook as he reached for something—a bottle of lube, perhaps - but his movements were too frantic to tell. Your screen smeared with him; your own thighs smeared with warmth and desperation.

Before you knew it, your toes were curling and your stomach twisting - you knew you were close. From the way his abs tensed, his breathy moans intensified, and his hand moved more rapidly, you could tell he was too. Soon, a tingling sensation washed over you, stars dancing across your vision as you reached your climax, your breathy moans mingling with those coming from your laptop.

You managed to open your eyes in time to witness his climax. When he came, it ran slick and white over his knuckles while his hand pumped slowly, coaxing every last drop out. You watched a drop quiver at his thumb, watched him rub it over the slit of his cock, mesmerised by the way his hips bucked at the simple act.

You sat back trying to catch your breath as you watched the figure on the screen move closer. Your eyes trailed to his glistening abs, only for the screen to suddenly go dark. The words 'Live broadcast has ended' flashed up, followed by 'Enjoyed @ inked.longing stream? Follow for more!' It was then that you decided you would definitely be following @ inked.longing for more.

After finding that livestream, you now knew that @ inked.longing was live every Tuesday and Friday night at exactly 2am. And you were there watching every Tuesday and Friday night at 2am on the dot. It was a couple of weeks after first finding him that you had worked up the courage to leave a comment in the live chat. You didn't think you would get a reply since all you had written was a simple 'Hi!', but you were very pleasantly surprised when his deep, rich voice sounded through your laptop with a 'Hey', followed by a small chuckle.

You had grown braver with each livestream you attended, adding more than a simple "Hi" and branching out to "hope you're okay!" as well as the occasional "you look good tonight." You had built up some type of rapport with the camboy—when you joined his streams, he always greeted you with a "Hey angel" before you could even type anything.

It wasn't until the month and a half mark when you missed one of his livestreams because of a friend's birthday party. You had logged on when you got home around 4am, hoping to watch the recorded stream, only to be met with a message notification.

@ inked.longing: You okay? I missed you on the live tonight.

Your heart fluttered before you typed out your response.

@ angel.light: Was at a friend's birthday party, went on longer than I expected. Was going to watch the recording now x

You hit send and closed the chat, starting to search for the video. A loud ping echoed through your room, notifying you of a new message. You clicked the chat to see a reply.

@ inked.longing: Wasn't my best, didn't have you watching it

@ angel.light: I'm sure it's still amazing.

This time you stayed on the chat out of curiosity. Within seconds of sending your reply, his username popped up, indicating that he was already typing.

@ inked.longing: only want you to have the best ;)

@ inked.longing: guessing you need some help...

*attachment: 1 image*

You were mid-giggle as you read the first message when the image popped up. On your screen was the Greek god of a man, torso bare, lit with dim lighting, leaning back on his bed and propped up on one arm. His tattoos were on full display, and you could see the start of a pair of grey joggers that hung low on his hips. You wouldn't quite say that this was help when it felt like it just made your situation worse.

@ angel.light: How charming of you :) and I can't quite decide if this helps or just adds fuel to the fire x

@ inked.longing is typing....

@ inked.longing: I have an idea... it might be a bit crazy though...

The remnants of alcohol in your system was all the courage that you needed when tempted with this.

@ angel.light: go on...

A minute passed, then two. Your heart was beating quickly in your chest. Your screen filled with a different message.

‘@ inked.longing is requesting a video call’

Your heart was in your throat as you glanced around your room for something to cover your laptop camera, finally settling on a Post-it note.

You don’t know if it was the alcohol in your system or the noticeable ache between your legs, but before long, you were clicking the button that read ‘accept’.

You were instantly met with the image of him sat back onto his heels, showcasing his abs and tattoos and grey joggers that left little to the imagination. He was close enough to the camera that his face wasn't visible, maintaining that anonymity. Even though your camera was covered, you still made sure that your camera was off for the call.

You could feel the heat rush to your cheeks. You watched him shift slightly to make himself more comfortable.

"I don't expect your camera on; I just thought that maybe I could give you your own live stream. And... you know, give you that helping hand. What do you say angel?" His voice filtered through your speakers, his voice alone was enough to send your toes curling. But the chuckle that followed? Now that was just downright sinful.

Not backing down, you dragged your mouse over to the mic button and clicked it. Taking a sharp intake to try and steady your voice, you replied.

"I must be a very lucky girl to get a private show. Thank you..."

Your voice trailed off. You had no idea what to call him. You didn't know his name, and he didn't introduce himself as anything. Your brain was going a million miles per hour over such a tiny detail. As if sensing your dilemma, he gave you an answer.

"You can call me whatever you like, angel, just promise me, don't call me 'Daddy'."

You were transfixed on watching his hand travel down his body, palming himself every now and then through the fabric of his joggers. You breathed a sigh of relief at his answers, happy to know that the phrase 'daddy' was never going to be leaving your lips. You did, however, have an idea as to what to call him now, making sure to pause before testing it out on your tongue.

"Thank you... Sir." The giggle that followed was out of nerves and could not be stopped, but his reaction had the air being ripped from your lungs. You watched as he tipped himself back slightly, palming himself harder whilst muttering 'Fuuuuccccck' loud enough for you to hear.

A newfound confidence came over you with this reaction; your own hand found its way between your thighs. Your giggle echoed through the room before you spoke again.

"I'm guessing that you like being called 'sir'." You made sure to draw out the 'sir', almost as if you were purring the word. You could hear him moaning in response. You couldn't help but whimper as your own fingers trailed across that bundle of nerves.

This snapped him out of his own trance, bringing his attention back to you.

“Fuck, angel, has anyone ever told you how heavenly your voice sounds?”

All you could do was muster up a breathy 'no' in response, too focused on your hand between your thighs. You heard him draw in a quick breath.

“Tell me, angel… What are you wearing?”

You looked down at yourself, taking in your appearance. You had been so tired from the party that all you did was shed your clothes and crawl onto the bed. You bit your lip at the realisation that you were completely naked.

“Nothing… sir.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but you knew that he could hear you as you watched his hips buck. “Fuck, angel, I wasn’t expecting that.”

You were getting more and more needy, and the anticipation was killing you.

“You should join me, Sir. Take off your joggers.” The boldness of your statement made him still.

“Anything for you, angel.” And with that, you watched him move himself towards the edge of the bed. Standing to drag the grey joggers down his hips, freeing his cock from the confines.

You took him in lazily at first, but when he leaned into the camera just a little more, giving you a perfectly lit, cinematic view of his body, whatever was left of your logical brain melted. He was everything you liked in a man - complex, unreadable, maybe even a bit dangerous if the dark constellation of tattoos swirling across his hips meant anything. You felt warm in your bed, sick in a lovely way, and maybe it was the last of the vodka in your blood, but you let yourself go completely.

"Looks even better than on the streams," you murmured before you thought better of it. He laughed, a real, bright sound that made you want to say something else funny just to keep him doing it.

"Glad to have your approval," he said, palming himself as if he couldn't help it, as if the conversation alone was enough. You matched his rhythm, your fingers moving over yourself, shame dulled by the knowledge that you were both enjoying this.

He let out a slight hiss as you watched his hand start to slowly fist his cock. The up-close view left nothing to the imagination as your eyes trailed over the thickness, noting every vein.

You could feel your own nerves hum in sympathy as you matched his movements, tension growing in your thighs. He was making a show of it, the way his hand glided up and then twisted at the top, how his abs would flex and release - a choreography meant for you and only you.

You imagined the weight of it, the texture, your hand instead of his working him over. Maybe it was the anonymity - the lack of faces and expectations, nobody here but skin on screen and voices in the dark - but you felt less self-conscious than you ever had in your life. Like you could say anything. Like you could want anything.

What started off as a half-stifled whimper eased into a soft gasp as you pressed two fingers inside yourself, slow at first, just testing. The glimmer of want that had started hours ago at the party, with endless eyes and bodies pushed up against you, was nothing compared to this particular ache. Here, it was distilled, entire, and you could imagine he was in the room with you, warm breath against your skin, tattoos pressed into the curve of your thigh.

"Tell me what you want," he said. The words rolled in your ear, heavy and slow.

You didn't hesitate. Something about this setup was so unreal it felt liberating. "Want to see you cum, Sir," you admitted, letting your own thumb circle your clit in time with his strokes. "Want to hear you."

The camera tipped just barely as he shuddered. "Yeah? You want to hear how much you get to me?" He rocked forward so you could see the length of him in his hand. There was a ring on his thumb, silver and smooth, that caught the light every time his fist tightened.

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped you. Your fingers moved quicker inside you as you heard him groaning.

“Please, sir,” you gasped.

“I want you to cum for me, angel.” The phrase was close to a plea, low and frayed at the edges. You watched his muscles tense, the sinew in his forearms flexing as his pace increased, throttling pleasure up the scale with no intention of easing off. You could feel yourself flush, sticky and heated, the ache in your body threatening to tip you over any second. The room around you faded into a haze, nothing left but the hum of your laptop fan and his ragged breathing through your speakers.

You thought about your body as he must imagine it - some ghostly girl behind a muted camera, all need and hunger and sound. You let yourself arch into it, legs falling open, your hand moving in a slick old rhythm that felt holy for how good it was. He was matching your pace, so beautifully in sync with you that you wondered if he could hear what you were doing or just sense it, as if desire could travel through fibre optics at the speed of want.

You could tell that he was getting close just by the way that his breath hitched and his hand blurred.

“Fuuuccckkkk, angel, I can hear how wet you are.” A half laugh, broken off by a groan. “Tell me, angel, I need to know how you’re touching yourself.”

He was so open in his wanting, it made you want things for yourself too. "Two fingers inside, sir," you confessed, and with the high-wire shock of the moment, pushed in deeper, spreading yourself wide for him, "and I'm so close—" A wild pulse overtook you, hips shuddering against your own hand, heat bright and electric, everything going soft white for a second.

You nearly sobbed with it, the release blurring your vision, a hot rush flooding your head as you kept your eyes on the grainy image of him. "Sir, I'm-" was all you managed before your body stole the rest of the words. The sound you made was nothing you'd ever heard yourself make, raw and unshaped and not meant for anyone but him.

That pushed him over, you could tell, a deep-throated moan wracking his body, and you watched as his thick and swollen cock spilt over his hand, rope after rope of his seed, as he thrust up for your benefit.

You watched his abs jump with every pulse, the tattoos flexing as if alive, and only when he’d wrung every last drop from his body did he finally slow—the hand travelling lazily through the mess, spreading it up towards his navel with a satisfied sigh.

“Shit, angel,” he managed, voice hoarse now, softer than you’d ever heard it. “You have no idea what you do to me.” You watched him sag back onto his bed, chest rising and falling, and wondered if the aftershocks in your body were mirrored in his.

You lay there too, spent and trembling, staring at the blue screen glow. The silence was comfortable, a shared aftermath, until he spoke again. “You okay?”

You giggled, breathless. “Alive and well, Sir.”

He groaned. “Don’t say that. I might actually die if you keep calling me that.” There was a pause, and you imagined the contortion of his mouth as he tried and failed to fight a smile. “You should probably get some sleep. I’ll be here - same time, whenever you want.” His voice, suddenly shy, made you ache all over again.

You wanted to say something clever, but nothing came. “Thank you,” you tried, but it sounded too small for what had just happened.

“Thank you, angel,” he countered. “You make it worth showing up.”

You rolled to one side, covering your burning face with a pillow. The screen went black as the call ended, but a new message popped up a minute later, right before you fell asleep.

@ inked.longing: Sweet dreams. If you see me in them, I hope I do a good job xx

You woke up late, sticky with sweat and the memory of his voice. There was a message waiting for you again when you rolled over, still not quite recovered from last night.

@ inked.longing: Considering an encore performance ;) Let me know if you’re interested.

You lay in bed a little longer, letting the blue light wash over you, replaying the whole thing in your head. It was strange how quickly “Sir” had become something just for you two, private and slightly ridiculous, but you smiled every time you thought it.

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you drank water and took a too-hot shower, then paced around your apartment replaying the call in your head, trying to decide if it was crazy or sad or both that this was the most special thing that had happened to you all month.

[ivy-goldrush]

Masterlist

Azriel (acotar)

Where Shadows Cannot Follow - Ongoing

Part I | Part II |

Inked Longing - Ongoing

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 |

Bucky Barnes

Wednesdays are the worst (Discontinued)

A New Addition (Drabble)

[ivy-goldrush]

Where Shadows Cannot Follow

PART I | PART II

Note: an ittle wittle update on this fic. Im actually enjoying writing this so who knows maybe it might be a couple more parts 👀👀👀

Not proof read yet!

Azriel x reader

Angst, Sad, Mentions of potnetial self inflicted harm, read with caution, potentially several parts?

Word Count: 590

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You had lost track of how many days had passed. For all you knew it could have been weeks. Somewhat of a routine had been built up over the course of this time, it mainly consisted on when you were checked up on and who was to do so.

You knew that you weren't being help in this room however, you could not bare the thought of trying to set foot out side of it. Every time that you had managed to build up any sort of will power to move from the bed to the heavy set oak door, the feeling of dread settled into your bones, enough to cause bile to rise in the back of your throat.

Mor tried her best to get you out of the room. Hell, even Nesta tried to drag you out with the threat of no more books from the library. Yet you still couldnt bring yourself to do it.

You had found solace in the confines of the room. You spent most of your time submerged in the bath. When Mor had first seen you in the bath she assumed you were trying to relax. It wasn't until the second time she found you that she realised it wasn't a relaxing bath. When she found you fully submerged in the bath not moving, she panicked. When she plunged her arms in the drag you up she screamed as ice cold water met her skin. Cassian had been the one to hear Mors scream and found her pulling you out of the tub. You couldn't meet their eyes after that.

It took a while for Mor to talk to you about it. Your only reply was that the colder it felt the less surrounded you felt. She never pressed you any further. Nesta on the other hand was a different story. After she heard what had happened she refused to leave your room until you talked. The both of you so stubborn and you hurting so much ended up with her rocking you on the floor as tears streamed down your face. Words had bubbled up your throat about how stupid it all seemed to feel this way over someone who showed no reciprocation of those types of feelings, that he wouldnt even touch you unless he was wasted.

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You had managed to pull yourself out of bed before the sun broke the sky. The motion of dressing yourself felt both numb and tiresome. Never did you think that the act of pulling on a pair of leather trousers and buttoning up an oversized shirt would take up so much energy.

Your gaze flickered towards the pile of books stacked on the desk, all read and now collecting dust. Nesta had said she would try and bring you some new books at the end of the week, but that was a while ago and you had no idea how close to the end of the week you were.

Your feet moved before your brain could catch up. The stone floor was cold against your feet as you padded across the room. It wasn't until your hand grasped the door handle that you realised what was happening. Taking a deep breathe and stilling your heart, you twisted the handle and pulled the heavy door towards you. You felt the slight change in temperature as you were met with the cold, still air from the never ending hallway. Without hesitation your feet moved in one direction, seeking out the place that you craved.

[ivy-goldrush]

Where Shadows Cannot Follow

Note: it has been a very long time since I have written anything but alast, I was bored and had a spark of imagination. It has not been proof read.

Azriel x reader

Angst, Sad, Mentions of potnetial self inflicted harm, read with caution, potentially several parts?

Word Count: 1485

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Deafening silence surround in tandem with the lonely darkness that felt eerily cold. Night consumed the place yet your mind was still awake. Still racing, still replaying that the events that happened that day. This wasn't an uncommon occurrence for you as you often found yourself awake during the night. Maybe it was part of you hoping that he would come back. Maybe it was part of you still haunted by him leaving in the first place.

The darkness now feels unwelcoming when once it was something that made you smile and kept you safe. No longer comforting, it felt haunted. At least you didn’t wake screaming in night covered in sweat anymore. Mor tried her best at the beginning to help comfort you. She stayed during those wretched nights, trying to ease you back to this world. But the more she tried to help, the more you shut her out. In your mind it was better to isolate yourself than to surround yourself with those that were still so close to him. You believed that it was better to cut off all ties to him, that way there was less chance that you would have to endure seeing him with her, or seeing him at all.

The cabin that was once thriving and alive with laughter was now nothing more than a skeletal remain of a life that was once shared. His things remain untouched, frozen in time, collecting dust from not being moved. His clothes still hung in the wardrobe, a pair of his boots still sat by the front door. A box of his favourite tea, bought as a gift, still sat on the counter top, wrapped in paper and decorated with a bow. The book he had been reading, left open on the last page he read. the words now unreadable from the bleaching of the sun.

You remember the first night that you had spent in the cabin. The both of you drunk on fae wine and laughter. Cheeks rosy and hearts warm with the company. You had been so excited and impatient to spend you first night in your own place that you hadn't even thought about furniture. The only thing that lay in the cabin was a mattress on the floor. Azriel was too dam stubborn to leave you, insisting that he stay. The both of you curled on the mattress, the heat from each other keeping you warm without any blankets.

Your eyes sting but nothing comes out, your eyes too dry from all the tears already spilled. Shaking your head, clearing the memory that dared to surface, you took a deep breath in an attempt to tame the thoughts. It was clear that this was a night in which the thoughts will not clear that easily. Your legs wobbled as you rose from the bed, feet shuffling forward, possessed with their own path to take. You could only take in glimpses around you. The door to the bedroom, the kitchen, the entryway with his boots, the grass tangling between your toes, the stars blinking in and out behind the leaves of the trees.

You don’t know why you came to the boundary of your property. Don’t know why you found yourself knelt in the tall grass, fists grabbing at the dirt. And you don’t remember when your legs carried you out of the boundary and to the lake. You don’t remember walking to the shore. All you can remember is the sharp sting of the cold and the crushing weight of feeling far too much. You remember wanting it all to stop. You just wanted something to numb the pain, to make it all so much bearable. You didn’t intend to harm yourself, you merely just wanted to be able to live and not be consumed by the heaviness of it all.

You didn’t do this in hopes that you would see him again. He had made it pretty clear that he didn’t want anything to do with you when you had tried to do something. You knew deep down that you would do anything at all to be able to see him, to hold onto hime just one more time. And the ache of missing him was nothing in comparison to knowing that you were the reason that he wasn’t going to come back to you.

You don’t know when but you were soon consumed by the cold inky waters. It was oddly comforting, being surrounded by liquid darkness, you felt at peace with this place. You could feel you lungs burn but no pain seemed to arise from it. Your eyes stung as you opened them, only to be met with nothingness, with the hint of stars dancing at the edge of your vision.

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Searing agony shot its way throughout your entire body. It felt as though flames were linking at your skin and bones. There was also the crushing weight on your limbs. The pain so bad that it ripped scream after scream from you thought until it felt as though your vocal cords would bleed. Your eyes shot open as the pain only got worse, bones began to feel as though they were being snapped and the blood in your veins being boiled.

The door flew open and foot steps fell into the room. You could seen the corners of the room darken with shadows and the weight of hands pressing you into the bed. Your eyes flicked to who held you down, only to be met with the cold stare of Amren, who block the view of the room out. She was the only thing you could see as you felt more hands on your body, holding you down. Your ears rang as panic bubbled up within you and you tried to thrash from those holding you down. Tried to move to see who else was there. To try to get away from them all, away from there help. Amen's nails dug into you skin with the sheer force she was using to try and keep you still. It wasn't until one of her hands left your shoulder to grip your face, that she finally spoke to you through harsh whispers.

‘You need to keep still, she cant heal your wounds if you keep thrashing.’ Amren’s voice bit through the air, stilling your body in a instant. It was then that you noticed the feeling of wetness on your cheeks and the presence of three other fae in the room. You slowly felt the pain melt away, your bones no longer feeling as though they were being shattered and the fire that was once on your skin no longer there. It wasn’t long until you could feel the exhaustion seeping into you, your eyes met Amren’s as you tried to fight the tiredness, your mind full of questions. But your body was still so weak and needed rest and you could no longer deny it of its need as you let the darkness consume you once again.

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The murmur of voices and hushed tones woke you from you sleep but stilled you in moving.

‘What of her injuries? Have they all healed yet’

‘She barley had any physical injuries, i’m afraid that there has been more harm done to her internally.’

You could make out the second voice being that of Mor’s but the first was still hard to place.

‘You don’t mean to say-’

‘I need to ask you to not tell them, this stays between us’

Your body ached from not moving, you face unavoidably contorting in pain. The sound of two sharp intakes had your eyes blinking open, but not fast enough to see who the second voice belonged to as you heard the heavy thud of boots walking away from you.

Your vision settled on Mor. A vision of perfect beauty that hadnt change a bit since the last time you had seen her. Her face was painted in concern as she looked at you. Your mouth opened as you tried to speak but Mor just shook her head and perched on the edge of your bed.

‘How could you do something so stupid Y/N? I thought that I had lost you.’ Tears had formed at the corners of her eyes as she carried on.

‘You were so cold, it took everything for us to try and drag you out of the damn lake.’

Her voice cracked as her tears fell down her cheeks.

Your voice was barely a whisper as your own tears spilled.

‘Im sorry, I- I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble… I just-’

You could bring yourself to finish the sentence, didn't trust your voice not to betray you and break. Your eyes focusing on your hands as the two of you just sat there in silence, trying to come to terms what had happened to bring you here.

[ivy-goldrush]

Wednesdays Are The Worst Masterlist

Bucky Barnes X Reader Series 

Summary

Warnings: Grumpy!Bucky, Bucky being a dick, Angst, Eventual Smut? Slow Burn fic, Maybe a touch of Jealous!Bucky, 18+ cause ✨swearing✨

Chapter count: tbd

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Chapters

Expresso. Make Friends with It

That Was A Lot Easier Than Expected

The Sun Can Fuck Right Off

A Whole Fucking Box of Peaches

Where’s Colin Firth When I Need Him the Most

Shush Demons

I fell into a deep hole.

Dumb things have dumb consequences.

Leave Me Alone Punks

Why What How

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New chapter posted every four days at 9pm GMT (2:00PM Pacific Time)

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