@acotar-omegaverse-week is almost upon us! Look below to see what I've been working on to celebrate one of our favorite event weeks 💕
First Heat – Nesta/Gwyn/Cassian – When Gwyn's first breakthrough heat arrives in the middle of the night, she looks for help in the only place she trusts to find it: her best friend and her alpha. Unfortunately, it also unearths all of the feelings she's been trying to suppress as well. (Fluff)
Pack Bond – Gwyn/Azriel/Elain/Lucien – The first lazy morning in the pack's new house in Velaris. (Fluff/Smut)
Purring & Cuddles – Nesta/Gwyn/Cassian/Azriel – A stormy night in the House of Wind leads to an overfull bed and two snoring alphas. (Fluff)
Knots and Ties – Gwyn/Elain/Azriel – Elain is a more than willing participant in Gwyn's endeavor to learn new knotting- ahem, knot tying techniques from their alpha. (Smut)
Ravaged and Ruined – Tamlin/Feyre/Rhysand – After months of drifting between her two courts, Feyre requests one night with both of her alphas. Unfortunately, it also happens to fall during Tamlin's rut, when he's feeling more than a little possessive of his omega...and his former lover. AKA what we could have had if we'd been given a throuple instead of a love triangle 😌 (Smut)
Monster Mayhem – Feysand – One night a month, Rhys is trapped in his beastly form. Feyre typically respects his request for space during this time, but tonight, she has needs only he can fill...just as he is. (Smut)
Free Day – Azris/Reader – Azriel and Eris receive a helping hand (or two) from their favorite courtier. (Smut)
Written for @acotar-omegaverse-week
Day Three: Purring and Cuddles
Pairing: Gwyn/Azriel/Nesta/Cassian
Tags/warnings: Fluff, cuddling, purring, bed sharing, Cassian's sense of humor, light foreplay
Summary: Gwyn wakes during a storm to a full bed and two snoring alphas.
Read on AO3
Gwyn stirs a little, her eyes still heavy with sleep as she slowly becomes aware of her surroundings. The steady patter of raindrops on the tile balcony is muffled by the room’s sound wards, the brief flashes of lightning little more than a faint glow beyond the cream and periwinkle sheers. The soft, herbal scent of Azriel’s pain relief balm floats over her, lavender, chamomile, and mallow rising from the tight, twisted skin of the hands that cradle her so gently to his chest. Home. This is the scent of home. His steady, rumbling purr echoes in her bones, rendering her pliant in his arms. It’s almost enough to drown out his own snoring.
Unfortunately, nothing is a match for Cassian’s.
Gwyn peers across the bed to find the hulking male turned towards them on his side, his jaw clenched even in sleep, a brown hand reaching across the mattress towards the female snuggled at Azriel’s side with her head tucked beneath his arm. Nesta’s gilded brown hair sprawls over the mattress, waves like soft velvet shifting in the dark. Her hand is curled beneath her chin- well, what Gwyn can see of it anyway. It seems sometime after Cassian and Azriel came to bed, both of them piled onto the Night Court’s spymaster, leaving Cassian to sprawl and snore while her mate sleeps on his back, a wing crushed into the mattress in favor of cuddling her and Nesta.
He’ll be sore tomorrow if she doesn’t climb off of him.
Carefully, Gwyn slips from his grasp, grateful he’s sleeping soundly for once. It’s a rare night that anyone can move without him waking. Her chest warms at the comfort this room must provide if he feels so safe. Gwyn leans into a controlled fall, landing on Nesta’s other side, leaving her mate to cuddle her while Gwyn worms her way towards Cassian. It doesn’t take him long to pull her into his arms, wrapping his body around hers with a contented sigh. Immediately, his snoring tapers off, fading into a contented purr. He always sleeps better with something — or someone — to hold on to. Her loose, messy braid spills over the thick, muscular bicep she pillows her head on as the rain picks up, sending her back to sleep’s embrace.
The storm remains when she wakes again, bathed in watery morning light. The pillow beneath her head is softer, filled with feathers rather than muscle. The comforting weight of Cassian’s hips pressing into hers rouses her further as she feels his warm mouth decorating her chest with tender kisses. His tongue trails between her freckles, the scrape of his slight beard a welcome contrast.
Mother above, she’s missed this. Missed him.
Her hands wind through his hair, guiding his head lower as Gwyn breathes in the haze of his scent. Icy wind and crackling embers and a musk so distinctly Cassian, better than nearly any aphrodisiac. They might not be mated in the traditional sense, but they’re pack. They’re hers. They all feel like hers and she can’t smother the desire sparking within her.
“Morning,” she mumbles, splaying her legs wider for the Illyrian to settle between them, his wings settling on either side of them. He mouths lazily over her cotton-covered breasts, hazel as twinkling as he meets her gaze. The nightgown is tighter than she usually prefers, but she can feel every twitch of his lips and flick of his tongue through it. It might just be her new favorite.
“Good morning, Gwyneth. Did you sleep well?” His conversational tone is killing her. Her ankles lock together behind his back, holding him in the cradle of her legs as he teases her. Her scent glands swell and pulse, perfuming the air with her scent, dragging a groan from Cassian in spite of the nonchalant attitude he woke her with. Big, fierce alpha, felled again and again by one of his omegas perfuming.
“After you stopped snoring,” she murmurs, gasping at the little nip he gives the slight curve of her breast. He nuzzles the tight peak of her nipple on his way back towards her neckline. Gwyn’s legs tighten around his hips. “H-how did you sleep?”
“Like the dead, sweetheart,” he groans, grinding into her a little as he tugs the strap of her nightgown down. The base of his knot, already beginning to harden, nudges against her clit. “And woke up twice as stiff.”
“I see.” Gwyn’s breathy, little moan makes him shiver, and he sucks her nipple between his lips to make her do it again. The small pink bud hardens against his tongue, sensitive to every flick and swirl he showers upon it.
Cassian smirks up at her, hazel eyes dancing with mirth. “Not yet you don’t. But you’re about to.”
She can’t think of a more perfect way to begin the day.
