how do we feel about the idea of Az being super touch averse (esp after being kept alone in the dark his whole childhood and his hands burned by his so called family/half brothers) UNTIL he meets his mate? I feel like she would absolutely respect his boundaries but he’s so touch starved and he loves her sm that he talks to her about starting with small touches and working their way up and then they eventually get to the point that she can touch him wherever and however she wants and she’s always so affectionate and loving and just pours all her adoration for him into every touch and he just smiles like a dork every time. But the first time the IC see her all over him they tense and wait for him to tell her off but he just leans into it and kisses her
loved this idea! i so agree re: him not loving touch/knowing how to accept it or initiate it. i wasn't gonna post this because by the time it was done it felt like it fell flat, but decided to post it anyway; apologies if it didn't hit the way you wanted it to!
Azriel x mate!reader who brings out a different side of him [1.5k words]
CW: fem!reader, dirty jokes, references to sex but SFW, fluff
Feyre hasn’t known Azriel for as long as most of the Inner Circle, and most of what she knows about the notoriously private male comes from the stories shared with her from his family.
But there is one thing Feyre has come to know about the Shadowsinger that no one needed to inform her about.
Azriel has a clear aversion to touch.
For someone whose job can be so physical, he keeps physical contact to an absolute minimum.
Greeting new people usually comes with his gloved hands folded behind his back and a gentle nod, his wings are always tucked tight and elbows kept close to his sides so as not to brush elbows with anyone. Even his brothers—centuries spent in close proximity to one another—seem to know precisely when they can push it, and when they ought to steer clear.
The closest thing she’s ever gotten to a hug from the male was the gentle brush of his shoulder against hers in thanks during a gift exchange last Solstice; she had known him for years at that point.
Nesta—the nosey busybody—once asked Cassian how that (being Azriel’s aversion to touch) works when he used to come home smelling like a female in the mornings following a night at Rita’s.
Rhysand and Cassian shared a knowing look before Cassian mumbled something about Az “running a tight ship” and then offered absolutely no follow up information (not for a lack of trying on Nesta’s part).
So, it’s safe to say that none of them knew what to expect—how to react—when Azriel came home smelling like a bond and announcing—more like reluctantly admitting—that he met his mate.
While Feyre and Nesta can hardly be considered having experienced a normal mating bond (whatever a normal mating bond may be), they’ve heard stories about perfect strangers meeting by chance in a market and embracing each other like…well…like two halves of a lost soul finally reuniting.
But Feyre’s only seen Azriel hug his own brothers a handful of times over the years she’s been here, so she definitely couldn’t imagine Azriel wildly embracing his new mate on a whim in public.
Needless to say, they were all on the edge of their seats, awarding Azriel with the privacy he needed, wanted, and deserved as he navigated his new mating bond while simultaneously itching to see how it might look.
Tonight was finally their chance.
“Does my hair look okay?” Cassian asks the room, running fingers through his wild locks in a show of insecurity rarely ever seen from the brute.
“Why does it matter? It’s not like you’re meeting your mate for the first time,” Amren hums judgementally around the rim of her wine glass.
Cassian narrows his eyes at the ancient being. “This is important, alright? I want to make a good first impression.”
Nesta snorts. “Well I wouldn’t worry then. You’ve never once made a good first impression.”
“You guys are very mean,” Cassian huffs, giving up on the tugging of his hair. “I hope she’s nicer, maybe I’ll finally have a godsdamned friend in this house.”
“Hey,” Feyre laughs. “Come now.”
Cassian softens. “Okay, fine; another friend besides Feyre.”
“Thank you,” she concedes.
The room stills when boots sound on the terrace of the House of Wind, and it’s clearly an effort for the entire family not to stand simultaneously and rush the door to get a peak of you.
The two of you appear in the doorway; Azriel’s wing extended behind your back like a gentle guide keeping you close to him.
“This is my family,” Azriel explains softly, eyes travelling over the group of fae currently holding their breath. “Family, this is my mate.”
Somehow, Azriel’s voice softens around the syllables of your name, making it sound like a note of a song or the gentle hum of a breeze.
“Hello,” you greet quietly, nerves obvious though so is your excitement.
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Rhysand welcomes first. “We’ve been wondering when Azriel might deign to share you with us.”
“I…I feel like I should bow, but Azriel told me it was very important that I keep you humble,” you admit, knees clearly itching to bend when being greeted by the notorious High Lord of the Night Court.
“Oh, thank the Mother,” Cassian sighs in theatrical relief. “I don’t think the rest of us will survive if his head gets any bigger.”
“My head is perfectly sized, thank you,” Rhysand huffs at his brother, softening his gaze when he turns back to you. “But there’s certainly no need to bow; we’re family.”
Your chest rises with relief and pride, and the corner of Azriel’s lips lift in time with it.
“It’s nice to finally meet you all,” you state as your gaze drifts over the entire group, and Feyre can understand why Azriel seems to have a hard time peeling his gaze from you; you’re magnetic, your eyes so soft and so kind that you make every person feel like the most important person in the room just by looking at them. “I’ve heard so much about you all, it feels like I’ve already known you for centuries.”
Mor breaks first.
“Oh, I am so happy to meet you,” she all but squeals, racing towards you.
Feyre isn’t entirely sure what she expected to happen, but she certainly wasn’t expecting for you to step away from Azriel and meet Morrigan in the middle of the room in a tight embrace.
“You must be Morrigan,” you hum happily into her shoulder.
“I’ll be whoever you want me to be, sweetheart,” Mor laughs, pulling away from you. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Alright, my turn,” Cassian announces, all but shoving Mor out of his way to bring you in for his own embrace, though his involves lifting you off of your feet and eliciting a surprised oof out of you. Azriel’s wings twitch in subtle agitation.
“Cassian, I assume?” you giggle.
“You’d assume correct, beautiful. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Alright, out of the way, you big bat.” Feyre swats at Cassian’s arms to release you, only for you to be transferred into her own. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
“Thank you for having me,” you murmur, quieter now, as though meeting her holds some extra weight.
She looks over at Azriel and his soft gaze confirms it: you were worried about meeting her.
“The honour is really all mine,” Feyre assures you, pulling away only to hold you by your shoulders.
She nods her head, really liking you for her brother-in-law. “As I’m sure you know, this is my husband Rhys. That there is my sister and Cassian’s mate, Nesta, and that’s Amren, Rhys’ second in command.”
Azriel finally fully enters the room, moving to step up behind you as though a quiet anchor. Your shoulders subtly loosen at his proximity.
“So, how has it been being mates with Azriel over here?” Cassian asks jovially, returning to his seat in the living room.
“He’s perfect, really,” you tell them earnestly, smiling up at the Shadowsinger who’s turning a beautiful shade of pink. “I truly couldn’t have asked for better.”
“Ah, so you’re a liar too,” Amren drawls with a roll of her eyes.
Azriel looks like he’s trying not to do the same before gesturing for you to take a seat. “Ignore her.”
“I hope she doesn’t lie to you anywhere else, brother,” Cassian continues, smiling when his quip is met with a lethal glare from said brother. “You know, like in the bedroom.”
“Yes, thank you, Cassian,” Azriel deadpans.
“Oh, don’t worry Cassian, he’s perfect there too,” you respond quickly, surprising the room into silence as Azriel joins you on the—rather cozy—loveseat. “If you’d like some tips I’m sure I can convince him to let you watch.”
Rhysand bursts into unrestrained laughter.
“Mother above, where did you find this female?” Cassian sputters.
The corner of Azriel’s lips turn up. “What? You think I warned her about Rhys and not you?”
With this Azriel lifts his arm and places it along the sofa behind your head; Feyre holds her breath as you lean your head back on it.
Except Azriel doesn’t pull away.
He doesn’t straighten, he doesn’t grit his teeth, he doesn’t make a quick excuse to get a drink.
In fact, Azriel’s gloved hand drops from the back of the couch and onto your shoulder where he lovingly caresses the exposed skin near your collarbone.
You turn at the touch, smiling up at him warmly which finds his shadows blooming with joy.
And then your hand lands on his knee.
Feyre braces for impact again.
It doesn’t come.
Well I’ll be damned, Rhysand drawls in Feyre’s mind. He’s a changed man.
But Feyre’s not so convinced; she doesn’t think the softness of his eyes or the adoration in his smile or the dedication of his attention are necessarily new attributes, just largely unseen.
I think she must just have a way of bringing it out in him, Feyre counters thoughtfully.
“Who the fuck is this male and what have you done with Azriel?” Cassian hollers then, not nearly as subtle as the rest of his family.
And who’s responsible for bringing that out of Cassian? Rhysand sighs silently.
Summary - Feyre was a High Lady. Nesta was a Valkyrie. Elain was a Seer.
And she was the sister the Cauldron ruined and forgot.
Invisible in a family of legends, haunted by nightmares no one noticed, she learned to stay quiet... to expect nothing.
Except Azriel noticed. The Shadowsinger who never spoke too much saw everything—her pain, her loneliness... and the bond between them she didn't even know existed.
When the world decides she is the easiest one to break—Azriel will make them suffer for it.
A/n - As always content warnings will be at the start of each chapter, so please be sure to read them before continuing.
This is my very first Archeron sister fic! For the sake of the story, I've had to make the sisters a little harsh at times but that's purely for plot reasons, not an invitation to throw shade at them x
Expect healing, found family vibes, and basically an overlooked girl x quiet boy kind of story. There will be heartbreak, angst and eventually fluff :)
Please don't hesitate to vote or comment along the way, it truly means the world to me <3
Summary: She is a Day Court princess, the light in every room, loud, bright, and adored. He is the Night Court’s spymaster, hidden in shadows, haunted by the knowledge that she deserves better.
Author’s Note: Another request completed! I hope you enjoy it!
Masterlist
Azriel had waited his whole life for the mating bond to snap, and now, as he watched her from across the room, it was nothing like he had imagined.
It snapped like sunlight searing through every shadow in his soul, filling the darkness with burning light.
His mate stood surrounded by a circle of heirs, nobles, and High Fae who made his skin crawl. Her laughter echoed through the ballroom as her hand rested against a High Fae’s chest.
Azriel’s world narrowed to her, his breath ragged and uneven.
A hand clapped his shoulder, dragging him out of the haze of her.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Cassian’s voice said.
Azriel’s eyes didn’t leave her.
“Rhys calls her the Day Court’s princess,” Cassian chuckled. “Apparently, Eris has been trying to wed her for nearly a century.”
Azriel said nothing.
He couldn’t.
The word princess didn’t begin to describe what she was.
She was life itself.
Her gaze found his then, and her smile faltered, just slightly, as her hand tightened on another man’s chest.
Azriel felt a pull deep within him, demanding and undeniable, dragging him forward.
Cassian’s eyes flickered between the princess, whose smile had now vanished completely, and Azriel, whose shadows were now restless, nearly engulfing him whole.
She felt it too.
She knew.
The princess’s hand fell from the man’s chest. Her eyes locked on Azriel as she crossed the ballroom toward them.
“Az,” Cassian hissed in disbelief as the most eligible bachelorette in all of Prythian rushed straight toward them.
She stopped a few feet away, the soft shimmer of her golden gown catching the light.
Up close, she was even more devastatingly beautiful. Every inch of her was warmth, gold, sun, and life.
Suddenly, Azriel felt like his shadows were strangling him.
“You must be from the Night Court,” she said softly, a smile on her lips. “I’m Y/N it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She didn’t seem to notice the way every pair of eyes in the room turned towards her, towards them.
Maybe she just didn’t care. She was used to being the centre of attention.
Azriel, however, felt every gaze.
He wasn’t made for the spotlight.
Still, Azriel didn’t move. He couldn’t.
He just stared at her as she stood before him.
Cassian bumped his shoulder against his, but still, Azriel couldn’t force a word out.
His shadows curled instinctively around her, as if trying to dull her light.
Instead of flinching like he expected, she laughed softly, a sound that made his mouth go dry, and for a moment, he thought he might faint.
She tilted her head, studying him. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Azriel,” Cassian said, grinning. “And I’m Cassian, General of the Night Court.”
Before Azriel could even react, Cassian stepped and took her hand. He bowed slightly and pressed a kiss to the back of her knuckles.
Jealousy burned in Azriel’s chest, his shadows thickening at her ankles. Cassian glanced at him with a smirk before releasing her hand.
“Cassian, the Night Court’s War General,” she said with a smile. “And Azriel, what’s your title?”
The way his name rolled off her tongue made his chest ache.
“Spymaster,” he said, his voice low and rough.
Her smile deepened into something that could have brought kings to their knees.
“Spymaster? That sounds… dangerous.”
Cassian laughed as Azriel’s jaw clenched.
“Most people call him the Shadowsinger,” Cassian added, lifting his glass of amber liquor to his lips.
The bond pulsed in Azriel’s chest, sharp, constant, and it took everything in him to remain still.
Her eyes filled with amusement.
“Well, Shadowsinger, your shadows seem to like me,” she giggled, hands gliding through the wisps of darkness that danced around her.
The sight made something twist inside him, equal parts awe and dread.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
His mate wasn’t supposed to be someone like her.
Not someone who shone so brightly it hurt to look at her.
She stepped closer, lowering her voice to a teasing whisper. “Tell me, Shadowsinger, do you dance?”
Azriel’s heart was pounding so loudly in his ears that he could hardly breathe.
“I don’t dance,” he said finally.
“A drink, then?” she asked, her smile softening.
Cassian’s smirk turned into a grin, glancing between them, but Azriel was already shaking his head.
“You should enjoy your night,” he said, forcing a polite nod and avoiding her gaze.
“Oh.” Her smile faltered, confusion flickering across her beautiful face.
“I’m on duty tonight,” Azriel added.
He could feel her hurt and rejection through the bond.
“Right,” she said softly.
A practised smile formed on her lips, but her eyes betrayed her, looking at him with hurt, as if she had never been denied a dance or a drink before.
He doubted she ever had.
“Well,” she said after a pause, her voice bright again. “I’ll let you get back to your duties, shadowsinger. I’ll save you a dance.”
His heart twisted as he watched her take a step back, then another.
The crowd swallowed her whole, courtiers and suitors, drawn to her like moths to a flame. Even as she smiled and laughed, her gaze didn’t leave Azriel’s.
He turned on his heel and pushed through the crowd, away from her, away from the sight of those men leaning too close, offering her company, drinks and dances that should have been his.
Jealousy flared hot, curling low in his stomach. The bond twisted painfully as he forced himself further and further from her.
“Az!” Cassian called, trying to catch up.
Azriel didn’t stop until they reached the edge of the ballroom. His hands were shaking, his chest rising and falling too fast.
Cassian caught up to him.
“What the hell was that?” he demanded. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen just walked up to you, asked you to dance and have a drink, and you said no.”
Azriel dragged a hand down his face, shadows curling around him as if shielding him from reality.
“She’s…”
He couldn’t bring himself to say it, the word catching in his throat.
Cassian exhaled sharply. “She’s what?”
“She’s my mate,” Azriel whispered, his voice cracking on the word.
Silence fell for a moment.
Cassian froze, eyes widening. “Does she know?”
Azriel’s gaze flicked back toward the crowd surrounding her. Men leaned closer, trying to catch her attention.
“She knows,” he said finally, forcing himself to meet Cassian’s eyes. “I think she’s waiting for me to go to her.”
Cassian’s brow furrowed, confusion written across his face. “Then go to her. Have your dance, have a drink with your mate, speak to her.”
Her laughter echoed in his ears; the bond between them was relentless and aching, a constant pull beneath his ribs.
“She deserves more,” he whispered. “So much more than me.”
Cassian’s expression softened, but Azriel didn’t look at him. He just stood there, shadows curling around his shoulders as her laughter faded into the music.
After that, he kept to the edge of the room, shadows cloaking him in darkness.
She was never alone, always surrounded by admirers, their laughter too loud, their touch too familiar and no matter how deeply he hid in the shadows, her eyes always found him.
Through the crowd.
Through the noise.
Through the dark.
Each time their eyes met, his breath caught, and each time, he was the one to look away first.
He could handle watching her from afar.
Until he saw him.
A flash of red hair, glowing like flames. A sharp smile. Amber eyes locked on one target.
Her.
Azriel’s stomach dropped, his fingers twitched at his sides, and his shadows coiled around his boots.
Eris Vanserra was heading toward his mate.
The heir of the Autumn Court bowed before her, taking her hand and gently kissing her knuckles. She laughed softly as Eris pulled her into a tight embrace, but her gaze slipped past him to where Azriel stood hidden in the shadows.
In that moment, Azriel’s control fractured.
Eris whispered something that made her laugh, a loud, unrestrained sound that twisted like a knife in Azriel’s chest. His wings flared slightly, and his hands clenched into fists.
“Dance with me,” Eris murmured, already tugging her toward the floor.
She hesitated. Her gaze fixed on the shadows where Azriel stood, almost invisible.
Azriel’s chest tightened painfully as he watched them step onto the dance floor. Her gown shimmered with every turn, golden fabric catching the light.
Eris held her as though she belonged to him, his hand resting far too low at the small of her back.
Every instinct screamed at him to intervene, to pull her from Eris’s grasp and into his own arms where she belonged.
Maybe she did belong here, in the centre of the room, with the heir of a court.
Maybe the Cauldron had made a mistake.
He stood there, cloaked in shadow, and watched his mate dance with another man.
Finally, her eyes found his.
Across the room.
In the arms of another.
Azriel’s fragile control finally shattered.
He turned on his heel and left the ballroom, through the winding halls of the Night Court palace.
The air was too bright, too heavy.
He needed darkness.
He needed distance.
He needed to breathe.
Azriel pushed open the heavy doors of the balcony, the night air cool against his burning skin. His hands gripped the railing until his knuckles turned white.
The bond pulled at him relentlessly, a constant, searing ache beneath his ribs. It was a pain unlike anything he had ever felt, as if he were being burned from the inside out.
His eyes stung.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. Couldn’t remember the last time he allowed himself to feel so much, but now, standing alone, he was seconds away from breaking completely.
He tried to smother it, the bond, the ache, her.
Tried to build the walls back up.
To breathe through the pain.
His wings flared in frustration. His shadows writhed and coiled around him, whispering her name.
“Stop,” he hissed to them. “Stop.”
The bond tightened in response, strangling him.
He didn’t hear the door open at first, only the sound of heels on stone.
He turned, tears drying instantly as his face settled into its usual mask.
He’d expected Cassian. Maybe Rhys.
Anyone but her.
“Is there a threat out here?” she teased, her gown glowing in the darkness.
“I’m sorry?” Azriel said, carefully.
She tilted her head. “You said you couldn’t have a drink because you were on duty, but from what I can see—” she glanced around the empty balcony, “—there don’t appear to be any threats.”
He inhaled sharply as she stepped closer.
“You followed me,” he said, his fists clenched at his sides.
“I did.”
She took another slow step forward. The closer she came, the more his shadows retreated.
“You were hiding,” she continued. “Watching me, watching Eris, and acting as if it didn’t bother you.”
Azriel’s shadows went still.
“You could feel that?” he whispered.
She was so close that he could feel her warmth against his chest.
“I can feel everything you feel, Shadowsinger,” she murmured, her eyes flicking from his to his mouth. “And you, my mate, are jealous. I’m here to tell you that I will always choose my mate, stranger or not.”
Azriel’s voice broke as he said, “You deserve someone like Eris.”
A quiet laugh left her lips as she shook her head.
“If I wanted Eris, I would have chosen him long ago. He knows that, it’s just a game to him, a chase he’ll never win.” Her voice was soft but sure. “I don’t want Eris. I want the man the Mother gifted me. My equal. My mate.”
He couldn’t breathe. The bond burned between them, a living thing.
“I’m not here to rush you,” she whispered. “And I’ll never force the bond, but I couldn’t leave the Night Court knowing my mate thought I’d chosen someone else.”
“You’re leaving,” Azriel said, voice cracking.
“Not if you don’t want me to.”
He shouldn’t have looked at her, because when he did, his heart raced.
All sense, all restraint, left him.
“Stay,” he whispered.
Her breath caught, and then a smile formed on her lips. “As you wish, Shadowsinger.”
She stepped even closer, her gown brushing against his boots. The bond ached between them.
“Eris means nothing,” Azriel murmured, voice low and rough.
“Eris means nothing,” she repeated softly, looking up at him through her lashes.
“Tell me,” she said, her tone teasing. “Do you truly not dance, or were you avoiding me?”
“I don’t know how,” he admitted. “Will you teach me?”
Her smile widened, and the look on her face nearly brought him to his knees.
“Yes,” she whispered, reaching for him. “I’d love to teach you to dance.”
Her hands slipped into his, and the world tilted. The bond flared in response, and his chest tightened.
“Follow my lead,” she murmured, placing his hands on her waist, while hers rested on his shoulders.
She guided him, the Spymaster, the Shadowsinger, her mate, through the steps of a waltz.
He stumbled, stepped on her toes, tripped her, apologised too much, and his cheeks flushed for the first time in years. She scolded him, louder and fiercer than Cassian ever had during training, but every word, every correction, made his heart ache in growing affection.
After that night, everything changed.
For six months, they practised every evening.
He learned how to spin her without stumbling, when she wanted to be dipped or lifted, when to turn, and when to pull her close.
He learned her.
After that night, she never left his side.
She left the Day Court without a second thought. She moved into his home and filled every dark corner with light, colour, and life.
She was loud, spoiled, and everything he never knew he needed.
She kept every gift he gave her, every letter, every ribbon.
Every reminder of him.
On the night of their mating ceremony, they danced until their feet ached.
They danced with friends, with family, beneath the glow of the moonlight. He twirled her beneath the stars, her gown shimmering, her laughter echoing through the courtyard.
She glowed, a light so blinding, so pure, that he couldn’t look away.
Summary: Azriel bumps into his tipsy mate on a night out. The IC don't know she exists.
A/N: I am 100% picturing the blumarine dress of my dreams... also apologies to anyone with purple hair....
Azriel had stopped listening to the conversation at the table the moment you twirled into peripheral view. One second you were laughing with one group, the next you’d somehow folded yourself into another like you’d been with them all along. You move through the dancefloor collecting people as you go, hands flying as you recount wildly animated stories one after another.
Cassian pushes back from the table mid-argument with Mor about whose turn it is to get drinks. “She’s going to notice you staring eventually.” He mutters into Azriel’s ear on his way past.
“I’m not staring” Azriel responds flatly.
Cassian snorts in disbelief at the lie. “You are absolutely staring!”
Mor leans over Nesta, peering through the crowd until she spots you. “Go say hi. She’s hot… I might go introduce myself if you don’t” she wriggles her eyebrows at Azriel as if that will encourage him to talk to anyone.
Azriel finally drags his attention away from you just long enough to shoot her a look. “You wouldn’t survive five minutes.”
“Rude.” Mor says, offended but delighted with herself at getting such a reaction out of the Shadowsinger.
“I love her dress!” Feyre remarks enraptured by the sequin number.
As if on cue, you turn mid-sentence, mid-gesture and spot him in the crowd. Your entire face lights up as you lock eyes with him. You disentangle yourself from the group without missing a beat, patting someone’s arm, giggling at something else, then immediately setting your sights on the booth like it’s your next destination.
“She’s coming here.” Amren says eager to see if this is a complete disaster waiting to happen.
“I don’t think we have time for a lesson on how to flirt.” Rhysand giggles into his glass as he watches you weave through the crowd towards their table.
You arrive slightly breathless, instinctively latching onto the edge of the booth to disguise your slight sway. Your eyes are bright and unfocused in a way that even if you weren’t unstable on your feet, it’s clear you’ve been drinking.
“Budge up.” you mumble, already climbing into his space before he has a chance to move. Azriel shifts automatically, one hand finding your waist to steady you. He’s seen you drunkenly slide off of too many chairs to trust it won’t happen again.
“Who died?” you ask far too loudly. “Seriouslyyy, why is it so serious over here? Did someone start a war without me?”You look between them all for an answer as you lean further into Azriel.
Mor blinks, giving you a look of pure confusion as she asks, “Do we know you?”
“No but I feel like you’re already deciding if I’m worth the headache.” you grin totally unserious before you zero in on Azriel. “You definitely think I am, so, why do you look like the fun police?”
“I don’t disapprove of fun.” He says quickly, raising his hands in mock defence.
“Right… So, it’s a lifestyle choice not to engage?” You ask, nodding to yourself like that makes total sense.
You poke his chest, a smirk tugging at your lips like you’re about to say something you shouldn’t and absolutely will anyway. His hand comes up automatically to steady your wrist before you can jab him again, thumb brushing absentmindedly over your skin. He exhales softly through his nose resigned to your teasing.
“I’m just trying to work out if this is your personality or your current blood alcohol level.” Rhysand states leaning back in his chair while glaring at you like you’re under investigation.
“I wish I could blame the alcohol, but this is a combination of the two I’m afraid.” You wave a hand over yourself like it’s obvious before your attention drifts right back to Azriel as if Rhysand has already been dismissed.
“I didn’t expect to see you h-” Azriel starts.
“Ugh I know!” You cut him off with a shout right into his ear. He tenses instinctively as you lean closer, as if your tone isn’t already deafening.
“This place is overrated. I say it every time. And I’m totally right about that by the way. But Dean is flirting with the bartender like it’s a full-time job and it’s honestly painful to watch…like physically painful but yeah Rita’s was out of the equation which sucks because her food is amazing… Anyway long story short I’m here. You’re welcome.” You ramble as if this is a reasonable summary of your night so far.
Azriel’s mouth quirks as he looks over to the bar intrigued, “Which bartender?”
That earns him immediate reactions from his family.
Nesta slowly turns her head toward him and stares like he’s lost his mind for encouraging you to go on.
Feyre lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Is this what happens when you remove him from silence? Pure chaos.”
Rhysand leans forward, squinting between the two of you. “Wait is he actually invested in the bartender situation?”
“Is it the one with all the earrings?” Azriel asks you for clarification, giving you so much attention that it seems like this is genuinely important intelligence he needs to gather.
“Purple hair… I mean, that alone tells you everything you need to know about their life choices” You mutter making him laugh.
Your gossip is cut short when Cassian walks over with a tray full of drinks. “I left for five minutes and Azriel is laughing with a beautiful stranger.” Cassian says, staring like he’s witnessing an alternate reality. “Did he have a personality transplant while I was gone? And, sorry, did we acquire a new member of the Inner Circle in my absence?”
You smile innocently at him, “Don’t worry about that, Az said he doesn’t want to babysit another drink, so you can hand it over.”
“I did not say that!” Azriel says immediately as you down the shot that was meant for him. “You’re incorrigible - do you know that?”
“Whatever happened to what’s mine is yours?” You laugh, slipping a hand into his hair to smoothing it back absentmindedly like you’ve done it a hundred times before.
Everyone is so distracted by your audacity to touch Azriel that they don’t register your words. Feyre freezes mid-breath, already preparing damage control. Rhys leans forward. “Did she just…”
“You’re either very brave or very stupid.” Nesta mutters as they all watch Azriel for a reaction that never comes. Instead, he just looks at you entirely unbothered like nothing about this is strange.
You clutch a hand to your chest dramatically as you look to Nesta, “that’s genuinely, actually is one of the nicest things anyone’s said to me tonight.” Your laughter cuts off as quickly as it starts, as you rush to add “Also I actually get that A LOT!”
Rhys huffs a laugh. “Somehow, I can believe that.”
“I’m surprised you’re here; This isn’t really your scene.” you say to Azriel.
“Cassian gets antsy if we don’t let him out the house.” Mor supplies making you giggle.
“Totally off topic but your shoes are incredible.” Feyre remarks.
“I thought you liked the dress?” Mor asks quickly.
“If there’s one thing about this group we can appreciate a good outfit.” Amren comments to which they all nod.
“So many people have said that to me but if we’re being honest, I think they’re starting to cut off my circulation! Wait - do you think that can actually happen?” You ask looking to Azriel for an answer.
Refraining from saying he told you not to wear them, Az shakes his head at the question. “No, I don’t think you have to worry about that just yet.”
“Are you having a good night?” Azriel asks wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him to hear your answer over the music.
“Yeah, but I’m tired. Is that what happens when you get old?” You ask supressing a yawn.
Azriel exhales through his nose. “I’m two months older than you!”
“Don’t tell people how old I am, I have a terrible reputation to uphold Azriel!” you scold him before breaking into a fit of tipsy giggles and curling even closer into his side like it’s instinct.
“Oh, you’re very drunk y/n” Azriel mutters.
You laugh again. “It’s the two-month age gap… it makes me less responsible.”
“I’m not sure that’s how it works.” He says wrapping an arm around your shoulders.
“Oh, trust you to find him but lose your jacket” Dean mutters walking up to the table and throwing your jacket at you.
“My hero!” You yell back catching it without looking in his direction.
“Wait. No. This is wrong; why are there so many sleeves… ugh.” You struggle with it like it’s a puzzle for all of two seconds before Azriel quietly helps. “Thank you. I’ve gone super cold.”
“First my drink, now my jacket.” Azriel remarks looking at the familiar fabric drowning you.
“Next your dignity.” you mumble, smiling sleepily as you slump back into him.
Feyre laughs.
“She’s efficient, I’ll give her that.” Cassian says proudly.
“She has no survival instinct” Amren comments. You grin at her like that’s a compliment.
“Anyway the purpose of the drop by is that Luna’s having an afterparty. Are you coming?” You ask Azriel.
Rhysand clears his throat to get your attention before he can answer. “Sorry, how exactly do you know each other?” Rhys pries.
“Please don’t tell us she’s one of your spies.” Amren mutters.
You open your mouth ready to say something flippant and deflective, but Azriel beats you to it. “She’s not a spy” he says, glancing at your glitter-covered outfit. “Look at her.”
He can’t look away.
“I feel a bit dizzy.” You admit abruptly. “So, is that a yes or a no Az? Because snacks are calling me.”
“Drink this.” He says suddenly holding a glass in front of your face.
“Is this water? See what I mean about the fun police now?” You remark humouring him by taking a sip.
“Trust me, you’ll thank me in the morning.” He counters.
“If I say no to Luna’s, will you go?” Azriel questions with a yawn of his own.
You shrug. “Yeah! If you go back to brooding in a booth while pretending you’re having fun, I’ll go to Luna’s and tell everyone I tried to save you from yourself.”
“What time did she want us there?” he asks.
“So, you’ll come?” you clarify.
“I can’t have you judging people without me, can I?” He asks much to your delight. You beam up at him, practically glowing, like that was the correct answer all along, and Azriel feels his heart go giddy in his chest.
“So what time are we leaving?” He repeats.
“Oh! She wanted everyone about an hour ago but…” Your eyes glance back to the bar for a second before you look back to Azriel. “Dean’s still flirting, so we have time. Wow he moves slow!” You sigh like he’s a personal disappointment.
“I think you should give him some tips Az. Like I said, this is fucking painful to watch!” you add seriously.
Azriel shakes his head, amused despite himself. “I am not giving him tips.”
“I didn’t say you have to flirt with him! Just go diffuse that situation… That’s your thing!” You instruct him, crossing your arms expectantly.
Cassian’s wheezes. “You cannot be serious. Azriel is not the guy you go to if you need help flirting.”
“Why? He’s good at it!” you shoot back immediately, offended on Azriel’s behalf.
Rhys slowly looks between the two of you. “He is?”
Cassian points at Azriel like he needs confirmation. “This one? This exact male? The one who avoids eye contact like it’s a sport?”
Feyre tries and fails not to laugh. “I’ve known him for years. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen him flirt.”
You frown at them, confused. “What are you talking about? He flirts with me all the time!”
You practically feel the entire table collectively wince on your behalf. “Oh sweetheart… That does not help your case.” Cassian smiles at you giving you a look of pity, like you’ve said something you’ll regret in the morning.
Then Azriel leans down, close enough that his mouth is just by your ear as he mumbles, “Careful. You’re going to give away all my secrets.”
“You’re so cute it’s unreal.” You giggle smushing his cheeks together.
Rhysand expects his brother to bat your hand away instead Azriel takes your hands gently prying them off his face but not letting go.
“What if we blew off Luna’s and went home?” he asks quietly, giving you a look that practically shouts he’s ready to leave.
You watch him grab his jacket and call him out on what this really is. “Are you tired Az?”
“Yes. Don’t forget I am older” He winks at you like it’s a lie.
“Mm… Do we have snacks?” You ask him urgently.
His mouth twitches for a second before he answers “Yes. I’ll even make you something before you sleep so you’re not totally miserable tomorrow.”
“Okay. You’ve sold me!” You respond with a yawn.
Azriel reaches for the jacket already hanging off your shoulders, tugging it properly into place and smoothing it down like its habit. “Right then, I’m taking her home before she forgets how to walk. I trust you’ll all survive without me”
“He says that like he won’t pass out the second we get home. It’s bold of you to assume I’m the only liability here.” You dramatically roll your eyes.
Cassian chokes. Mor nearly spits her drink.
“You’re… going home together?” Feyre asks slowly.
Cassian points between you both. “As in the same home?”
“That’s usually how living together works, yeah…” You glance at them with a raised eyebrow.
Mor’s jaw visibly drops to the floor. “You’re together?” She asks quickly.
😭😭when I asked for superbat omegaverse I really didn't think you'd hit me with hot spiky bricks (╥ᆺ╥) what did I ever do to you??
Nah I'm kidding I love this!! Aghh it hurt me so bad,and you mentioned that you'd try to give me something fluffy because this was meant to kill me,but,BUT, can ya gimme a continuous for this pleaseeeeeee,but with a happy ending, after making sure Clark has faced consequences (seeing Bruce silently drifting so so far away from him) and has repented GOOD like begging on his knees, crying, desperate, dying kind of repentance,but still a happy ending (please don't end it sad or else I will cry)
*aims a blowtorch at my brick pile*
Part 1
Clark hasn't been in Bruce's nest for six weeks when it happens. He hasn't kissed him in four, after Bruce gave up the facade for everyone and secluded himself more. He's not touched him in three. He's not seen him in one.
He moved in with Lois. She has cursed him out six ways to Sunday when he turned up on her doorstep and spilled everything, after making sure Kon couldn't hear them, and he's been sleeping on her couch, letting her drive him to work, then collapsing back onto her couch. The kids haven't come by. The know he messed up, that whatever is going on is his fault.
The most he can do is go out as Superman. That, at least, helps. Being good, helping people, not messing up like he did with Bruce. Not with the JL. He can't bring himself to face his friends. Their friends.
Plus, there's the kids. That's what he just did. Saved an entire bus of schoolkids after their bus' breaks failed. And it's now, being clambered all over by tiny, excited little gremlins, that it hits him just how bad he messed up. He— he wants this. This chaos, this joy, this stress, this everything that consumes every moment when you're a parent. He wants it.
He needs to talk to Bruce.
Then, as if Bruce heard him, there's a tug on their mating bond, like Bruce is wont to do when he wants Clark's attention.
And he's ready to talk, he's ready to speed across the bay to Gotham, and crumples to the ground instead, with a scream that makes all the kids in the area burst into tears.
He clutches at his head, in agony as Bruce's grip on their bond cinches, ready to snap it, ready to end their relationship.
"Superman! Superman!" There's people calling his name, but Clark can't focus on them, not with his entire world about to shatter, his heartbeat screaming in his ears, every nerve ending on fire.
"Clear the way! CLEAR THE WAY!"
Someone grabs his hands, someone else his head, familiar hands, soothing presences he can't focus on.
"It's Bruce," someone murmurs, he thinks it might be J'onn.
"Is he dying?" Diana, sharp, worried.
"Worse," is the brief reply, silencing them all, they know what that means.
"Flash, get him to Gotham. Now." Someone's picking him up, Clark wants to curl up in a ball, but he can't, he'll crush every bone in Barry's body if he does.
The grip gets tighter, the bond pulls taughter, and Clark shoves away from Barry, landing harshly on the Manor's hardwood floors, punching a fist through them as another scream rips from him. Footsteps, running, shouting, familiar voices, familiar fingerprints sliding over his skin, snagging on his pores.
"Clark," Kon calls, closer than any of the others. "You can't break me, c'mon, squeeze." Slim fingers wrap his hand around his clone's, his son's, and he can't resist, he obeys, tightening his grip as he curls up again, unable to contain his scream.
"I've gotcha. It's alright. Where's Bruce, guys?"
"His nest."
"If he wants this, shouldn't we—"
"Do you really think your dad wants this, Tim? Come on, Clark."
He can't walk. Kon pulls him to his feet, and even that much speed is too much, he stumbles away and throws up in a plant pot. There's grossed out noises somewhere behind him, but Kon just grabs him again and lifts him off the floor a few seconds later when he puts his foot through it as another wave of pain hits.
They can't move fast, Clark just throws up, so it's a slow stumble through the manor, until they're at their room and Kon fumbles with the door. He pushes it open, loses his grip on Clark, tries to catch him, and they both fall into the room. Clark, again, punches right through it, and barely stops the rest of himself from following.
The pressure in his head releases abruptly, the bond going lax again, still intact, and Clark moans in relief against the carpet.
"Hey, Bruce," Kon chirps.
"Kon. Why is..."
"Hell no. I got him here. Bye, guys!" The door doesn't slam, it barely makes a noise when Kon closes it, but it reverberates around Clark's skull, and he claws at his hair, unable to tear out his brains.
He manages to get to his hands and knees and crawls forward falteringly, until he reaches the boundary of his mate's nest, and collapses alongside it. Inside, Bruce sits, bundled up in blankets, wide, red eyes fixed on him.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, and it sounds like a yell. "I couldn't bring myself to do it."
"What?"
"I couldn't break the bond. I know— I know it's weak. Selfish. I'll try again."
Clark feels the slight starting tug again, and surges forward, before remembering he's not allowed in Bruce's nest anymore, and throws himself back. "Don't. Please, don't."
Bruce lets go, and tilts his head, curious.
"Bruce, love, baby— Please don't break the bond. Unless you want. But honey, if you think I want this, then please, please don't break it."
"I did not mean to prolong the pain so much. As I said, it—"
"It wasn't selfish. I don't want to stay mated to you to avoid the pain, I want to stay mated to you because I love you, Bruce. You are my best friend, and my whole heart, how could you ever think I wouldn't want to stay with you?" Another wave of pain rolls through his head, even without Bruce gripping the bond anymore, and Clark buries his head against the floor, careful not to break it, and groans, lips brushing the carpet fibers, feeling them catch in the divots of his flesh.
There's a shuffle, then a slide, a quiet hiss of fabric, then a delicious weight settles over his shoulders. Light as a feather, but the action weighs tons as the blanket lays over him, and Bruce picks his way back to the far side of the nest.
Clark feels tears press at his eyes, and desperately blinks them back. He loves Bruce so much, he doesn't deserve his beautiful omega.
Clark spots the TV eventually, showing a paused news report, the footage him, surrounded by kids, beaming at them. Other people's kids, and abruptly understands why Bruce's tried to break the bonds. He promises, swears up and down he wants kids, wants them with Bruce, he will do whatever it takes to prove it, and slowly, gradually, Bruce believes him.
Neither are sure how long they're there, Clark making promises, and plans, and everything he can to make sure Bruce believes him. But he never asks. Not once, does he ask, to come into the nest. He will stay out of it for the rest of their lives if that's what Bruce wants.
He's on the topic of nursery colours, when Bruce interrupts him, whisper quiet. "Clark. Come to me."
He freezes, then peels himself off the floor where he'd let himself collapse, and crawls into the nest, then further, and further, until he can collapse again, into Bruce's lap, can wrap his arms around his waist, touch his head to his stomach, and bury his face in Bruce's lap.
"I'm sorry," he gasps into the blankets, and Bruce's trembling hand lowers to his hair, stroking softly. "I'm so sorry."
Bruce pulls him up, stares into his eyes, both of them blurry to the other thanks to tears, until Bruce cups his cheek and reels him in, kissing him gently, then fiercer, then gentle again. Clark welcomes it all, and lets his omega curl into him, lets him bury his face in his chest and cry, and hit him, and kiss him, and takes it all, holding him close, and crying with him.
When they make it downstairs, eventually, when it's dark outside and has been for hours, they find everyone. Bruce's kids, Kon, their kids, Lois, Diana, J'onn, Barry, Ma, Pa, all of them, crammed into one sitting room, not a single one asleep, looking frazzled, furious, and a thousand other things.
Dick stands when they come in, and Clark knows he's in danger, reflexively tightening his grip on Bruce's hip.
"So. Clark." Dick smiles, all teeth, and Bruce squeezes back, a silent reassurance. "What the hell did you do?"
➺ summary: the death of your mother has paused your studies and, despite everything, brought you back home. the pressure of school, her sudden absence, and the guilt you’ve carried since leaving at eighteen hollow you out in ways you can’t name. in the overgrown quiet of your childhood backyard, you find yourself wishing for an existence that isn’t yours. the wish sinks deep—deep enough to cause a rift, to tear something open in the world. and you, overwhelmed and ever so curious, fall right through it.
➺ or: reader, drowning in a grief so deep it splits the world open, falls through a tear in space in her childhood backyard. she lands in prythian, a land full of fae, courts, and ancient magic.
azriel, who has known for centuries that he has no mate, no missing half, feels the shift the moment she arrive. something in the world changes. something in him changes.
your new existence in his world creates a new piece of his soul he was never meant to find, but what can he do. after all, you don't belong here.
➺ status: ongoing
➺ word count: tbd
➺ taglist: (idk how to do this. dm me or comment if you wanna be on the taglist lol)
────────────· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·─────────────
chapters
01 — the homecoming (3.6k)
your mother's death pulls you back to a house that never felt like home — and grief opens a door to someplace else.
02 — the dawn that took (3.5k)
the Dawn Court and Prythian overwhelm you, but Thesan and Elowen offer gentle comfort as you adjust, preparing yourself for the unprecedented meeting of the High Lords.
03 — the pull (4.0k)
the High Lords convene to witness your arrival, and when your eyes meet Azriel’s across the table, an unspoken bond snaps into place, leaving him shaken and unsure.
04 — against the bond (5.6k)
you arrive in Velaris and settle in, but Azriel is absent. when you finally see him, a quiet, tense tea moment leaves unspoken words between you as you leave, him nowhere in sight.
05 — what will it be (3.8k) (posted!!)
Azriel grapples with the agony of distance as you’re unexpectedly sent back to the Night Court, forcing him to confront his restraint, the bond, and the unbearable tension of seeing you again.
06 — returning currents (posting jan 5th (DELAYED SORRY))
A chaotic night at Rita’s leaves you and Azriel sharing quiet moments under the starlight, but morning brings an unexpected visit from Thesan.
🫶🏻summary: azriel shows you how to have a good time.
author’s note: HELLO EVERYONE 😍😍 i’m so sorry for disappearing again into the orbit. but how else can i make it up to you? OH THATS RIGHT - AZZIE SMUT 😩✋🏻😈 mdni!!! smutty smut
🎞️: 2.3k
You should be happy.
Gods, you should be the happiest person alive.
But that deep ache within your soul vibrated stronger than happiness.
And even though your soul was connected to another, through the love you felt for him shone bright, the sadness was overwhelming.
You knew the problem.
Azriel did not.
Ever since the bond snapped into place, you’ve been resistant. Azriel thought it was because you wanted someone else, that you deeply regretted nature's choice.
It wasn’t the case.
“Talk to me,” Azriel pleaded, his voice strained, his calloused fingers hovering over your wrist, but keeping himself from reaching out. His eyes were dark and deep with sorrow, and your heart broke a little more.
Voicing your problems was always hard for you. You were always the kind of person, who never asked for help, because you thought it meant you were weak. That you couldn’t handle anything without someone's help.
You never caught yourself being the one who openly talked about one's problems. Those were your problems, yours to solve, to handle.
However, this time, you broke someone else in the process of keeping your mouth shut.
Silent tears run down your cheeks as you look up at Azriel.
“I- I am so sorry,” you whispered.
“Tell me what you are sorry for,” Azriel asked, and this time, he reached out, calloused fingers curling around your wrist softly.
You gasped, the wet sound echoing through the air, your sobs growing louder as his finger brushes against your pulse point.
You shake your head, chin trembling.
And Azriel pulls away.
“No, please,” you reach immediately after him, but he’s already two steps away from you.
“You plead, but push me away. You reach, but push me away,” he says, voice growing thicker with anger.
“You tell me you love me, but act as if I don’t exist to you. I don’t matter to you.”
“You do!” you exclaim, hand against your chest, scratching your skin raw in desperation.
“This is what love is to you?” he laughs, his bitterness a huge contrast to his anger.
“I love you, Azriel!”
“Then why do you push me away?” he asks with a raised voice, wings flared wide and shadows frozen from his outburst.
“I don’t want to push you away!”
“Oh, so you just do,” he concludes, smiling bitterly.
He is being cruel, he knows it too, but the way you refuse to talk to him, scratches a nerve.
“I fear being intimate!” you admit through gritted teeth, fists clenched tight, and eyes set on your feet, refusing to look at him.
A heavy silence. Only your sobs are heard, and the rustling of your nightgown, as you fist the material in your hands nervously.
When Azriel didn't say anything, you slowly looked up.
He was staring.
“Sweetheart -“
“I love you. You have to believe me,” you tried to smile, but came out more like a grimace, “I really believe you are the love of my life. And I know the whole point of being mated to someone is to have a strong offspring, but I-“
You took a steadying deep breath.
“I’ve never had a good… intercourse,” you said, blushing. “I’ve had partners, but I couldn’t… It was always them getting off, and I just… laid there, thinking if this is it, then it’s not worth it. The only time I’ve managed to come is when I did it myself.”
You continued.
“It hurt and never got me to finish, never had foreplay, it was always jump and go. I’ve become a master at faking an orgasm,” you laughed with shame.
“And because of this, I don’t know whether I can enjoy it with you,” your tears flowed again, “because I really want to, but I just… have this mental blockage and I’m convinced it’s going to be a disaster,” you sobbed loudly, swiping your tears away with your palm.
Azriel stepped forward until his boots hit your naked toes.
“Look at me,” he asks, finger under your chin. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”
“I was a coward, I didn’t want to push you away,” you shake your head sadly.
“And I was a complete jackass to accuse you of not loving me,” he brushed his thumb against your wet cheek. “I thought you changed your mind, that you don’t want to do this with me anymore.”
Meaning the bond.
“No!” you reach up, keeping his hand against your cheek. “I’ve never felt as safe as I do with you.”
He pressed his forehead to yours.
“Do you trust me?”
“More than anything.”
“Can I show you more love?”
And oh gods, the way he said it, the butterflies in your stomach perked up, their wings fluttering excitedly.
You nodded.
He kisses you.
“Don’t hold back. Tell me everything you feel.”
You nodded.
“Words, my love,” his thumb hovered over your bottom lip, and when you whispered yes, he swiped over it.
With his scarred hands, he held your head to his, deepening his kiss, tongues dancing in comfortable rhythm. A soft moan escaped from your throat, as Azriel responded with a groan.
Your trembling hands fisted his black shirt, fingers clumsily popping the buttons. Azriel’s hand slid down your arm, spine, until it reached your hip, pulling you a tad closer. When your palms met his warm, naked skin, you melted into him even more.
Two careful fingers slid up to your shoulder, and grasped the strap of your nightgown, until it dropped off your shoulder.
“Can I see you?” He asked as soon as he broke the kiss, lips swollen and redder than before. His nose nudged yours playfully.
“Of course,” you shuddered as his touch returned, goosebumps littering the exposed skin, when he pulled both straps down, your naked chest full on display, nipples pebbled.
Azriel’s fingers slid down your collarbone, down your breasts, and lightly pinched your nipples.
Your mouth fell open, a throaty gasp escaping.
“Beautiful,” he says, and litters your skin with careful kisses.
“Az,” you bit your lips, fingers running through his thick hair, as he looked up while sucking in your nipple at the same time.
With a pop he released, and reached up to pull your bottom lip out.
“I want to hear every little moan, gasp, and cry, so don’t you dare hold back. I want to know what you like, so I can give it to you all the time,” he kisses you quickly, then gives his attention to your other breast, and to his delight, you don’t hold back. You squeeze his hair when he lightly bites your pebbled flesh, and groan when he massages them in his hands.
“There you go,” he rasped. With a quick motion, he got rid of his shirt and boots, and picked you up, nightgown falling from your feet, completely naked while he carried you towards the bed.
Under his gaze, you blushed, and slightly squirmed, but he clasped your hands over your head.
“Don’t hide from me,” he kissed your throat, “You’re my only one.”
“Az…” you breathed, eyes rolling as he licked and kissed and bit your skin so gently and lovingly, you clenched over nothing. Your mixed arousal lingered between you, sending a new wave of need down the bond.
“I know you like that, sweet girl,” he muttered on your skin, lips moving up until your ear, “You always get aroused when I kiss you here,” he pressed a kiss behind your ear, and you audibly gasped.
“Please,” you begged, desperate fingers running through his hair, while your other hand brought him back to you, to kiss him deeply.
“Please what, my love?”
“I want you.”
“Where?”
“Everywhere. Please, don’t stop.”
Azriel’s strong body slid down until he laid on his stomach, kissing his way down your stomach, until your very core. He gently spread your thighs, and brought them over his broad shoulders, while pressing kitten licks over your soft skin, making you gasp so loudly, it vibrated through the room.
And when he kissed your middle, you began to see stars.
“So sweet. So pretty. So mine,” each word resulted in a lick, a slurp, a tongue diving into your aching hole. His fingers held your thighs strongly, while yours buried deep within his locks.
“Oh my gods, please please please don’t stop -“, you slurred, back arching off the mattress, Azriel’s deep groan as a response vibrated through you, sending shockwaves through your body.
You panted, nipples pebbled harshly, your fist clenched the blanket as soon as you felt that familiar ache, that coil starting to break.
“Az… ahh, I’m gonna -“
“I can feel you. Clenching so hard around my tongue,” he purred, "Come on my tongue, sweetheart.”
You came with a loud cry, panting Azriel’s name as you tried to jerk away from him, because it became too much, too sensitive, but he kept you there, on his mouth, as he drank every single drip you gave him.
What he gave you.
“L-love, I can’t, ohmygods,” your eyes rolled back as you felt another orgasm appearing, and soon enough, the shockwaves returned, coming hard and without a single word.
“Breathe,” he kissed your thighs each, then slowly lifted himself up, hovering above your still shaking frame.
“I don’t know if I love you or your tongue more,” you admit between breaths, laughing softly at him.
“Good thing it’s still me, though,” he smiled and kissed you gently. “How are you?”
“Better than good,” you admit, blissful laughter escaping from you.
“Can you handle more, or should we stop?” He asked sincerely, and that’s what you loved most about him. The way he always checked in with you, the way he always looked for your best interest. He was eager to go to lengths for you, and so did you.
But you nodded. “I want more. I want all of you.”
“Good,” he says, then reaches down to his pants, buttons popping with ease. But the obvious bulge opened your mouth.
“Can I suck your cock?” You asked bluntly.
“Not tonight, love,” he kissed you, “But if you keep talking dirty to me, I might consider your offer.”
“I like dirty talk,” you confessed. “Turns me on.”
Azriel grinned devilishly.
“I noticed. You’re drenched,” he says while cupping your bare cunt, your mouth falling open from still being a little sensitive.
“C-can’t help it,” you stutter.
“C’mon sweetheart, lay back for me,” he says, eyes darkened with need and want, but his voice remained soft and gentle, just like his touch on your hips.
You obliged and laid against the pillows littering the bed, while Azriel’s relentless gaze locked on you, pumping himself in his hands. His massive size made your mouth water, eyes begging for a taste, but Azriel dedicated this night only for your pleasure.
“I’ll be slow,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead lovingly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
And then he lined up himself, and slowly, agonisingly slowly pushed in.
Both of you gasped at the same time.
“Oh love, you’re so tight,” he gritted.
“Don’t stop, I can handle it,” you pleaded, holding onto his biceps, praying the pain would turn into pleasure soon.
“Breathe with me,” he asks, his lips hovering above yours. With each passing breath, you became more and more comfortable and relaxed, to the point Azriel sinked all the way in. He groaned loudly, feeling your tight cunt squeezing around him.
“Don’t do that, unless you want me to embarrass myself,” he warned, holding onto your waist desperately.
“Please Az,” you nudged his nose, kissing his cheeks breathlessly. “Fuck me.”
“Oh fuck,” he cursed, and began to move his hips. All the way out, then slamming all the way in, until your moans became desperate, and your moans turned frantic and ragged, until your tights fell from his hips, opening up more widely.
Your hand slipped from his bicep, brushing against his sweaty chest, fingernails scratching against his toned skin teasingly.
Azriel picked up on his pace, hitting deeper than before, causing your back to arch off the mattress, tits bouncing wildly.
“Look at you, taking my cock like a good girl,” you clenched around him. Azriel chuckled. “You like it when I call you a good girl?”
“I fucking love everything you do to me,” you sobbed, words slurred.
“You’re mine, pretty girl. I’ll do everything to you you want me,” he promises and sucks on your nipple, tongue swirling around your flesh.
“Fuuuuuuck,” you chocked on your breath, holding his head close to your chest while he relentlessly fucked you into oblivion.
“I’m gonna come,” you whimpered when his thumb circled around your puffed clit, bringing in more pleasure.
“Milk my cock, c’mon,” he insisted, his darkened hazel eyes watching every shudder, every breath, every silent sigh, drinking in your beautiful face as he brings you over the edge for the third time.
“Good girl,” Azriel groaned loudly as he watched you coming apart, thighs shaking uncontrollably, your voice high pitched and slurred.
“Ohmygodsohmygodsohmygods,” you repeated breathlessly, cunt squeezing him until he came right after you with a low groan, spilling inside you.
Your mate carefully laid on your chest, forehead pressed between your breasts, pressing a quick kiss between them before looking up at you.
“My love?”
“Hm?”
“You’re still dripping,” he chuckles, amused.
Opening your eyes was hard. “Can’t help it. I had the best orgasm of my life.”
Azriel laughed, and pulled out, earning a hiss, then laid beside you. You rolled over to him.
“I love you.”
Azriel brushed away your sweaty hair from your forehead. “I love you.”
“Thank you for this,” you followed his tattoos with your finger on his chest, "Although, I think you have to lock yourself away from me.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Cuz I want to ride your cock now.”
A deep laugh echoed through the room, his chest rumbling with it while pulling you on top of him.
“Show me how much of a good girl you are for me and ride my cock,” and then he kissed you breathless, pouring every drop of him into your mouth, heart and soul, while the bond shone bright with love, adoration, and comfort.
The amount of pain, longing, and misunderstanding between them aches in a way that lingers. They deserve happiness—something soft, something real, something that’s finally theirs.
Also, I adore this artist. I follow everything she shares about Elriel hehe. The way she captures emotion is just… beautiful.
