Perv!Eris feels no shame when he slips a pinch of that sweet, honey-like pink powder into your mid-morning tea. He’s been watching you long enough to know which one you drink, how you like it, at what temperature—with just two teaspoons of sugar and a splash of milk—and he knows exactly who makes it and who brings it to you. Perhaps it’s because of the way he was raised; in the Autumn Court palace, “no” was never a direct answer to him, and so, when it comes to you, he can’t fathom why he can’t have you. It’s not so much the rejection that’s the problem, but your status.
Perv!Eris knows full well that he’s corrupt, sick, and depraved when he sees the effects the special powder has on you. Nothing shocking—Eris doesn’t like drugging women and taking advantage of them. He calls the substance… a little help.
Perv!Eris waits for you to finish all the tea laced with the aphrodisiac. Your cheeks flush a deeper red, and he sees the way you part your lips—oh, his cock throbs in his pants with such force that a searing pain shoots through his gut.
Perv!Eris waits for you to slip into your room, dismissing you first with a lame headache as an excuse. When you arrive, you can no longer breathe without sweating and gasping, and you feel a desperate urge to rip your clothes off.
Perv!Eris slips a hand into his pants and adjusts his erection, which does nothing but torment him, confined and imprisoned [cruelly;( ] in his soft velvet pants.
Perv!Eris snorts and for a moment fears you’ve heard him—even though his powers keep him well hidden from your eyes—while you give in and slip off your cumbersome dress.
Perv!Eris nearly chokes on his own saliva when he notices you’re not wearing a bra. His cock throbs, and he decides to screw the plan and unleash his erection right there, in the middle of your room, hidden by a veil of magic.
Perv!Eris slides his hand over his cock as you slip your fingers under your already soaked panties. He’d like to lick your delicious juices off the fabric with his tongue, sort of like an appetizer. The real meal would be you, and the idea of savoring you—would you be as sweet as the scent of your arousal wafting through the air? Probably yes—forces him to tighten his grip around his cock.
Perv!Eris wants you, but he remains a gentleman! He would never allow himself to come before a woman, before you in particular. His hand picks up the same pace as you’re fingering yourself. The lewd sounds of your juices mingle with your moans, and Eris trembles as he holds back because—oh, Eris wants to smother them with his lips and kisses, and he wants to feel you come all over his fingers.
Perv!Eris loves the idea of coming on any surface in your room. Marking you with his scent, with his cum. It reminds him that today it’s your wall, or one of your dresses, or a chair, or the floor, but tomorrow it could be your pussy, your face, your throat, your tits.
Perv!Eris comes. Hard, in white, hot, delicious spurts, at the exact moment your back arches and your chest flushes red. Your movements become unsteady, and all he can do is wonder if your soft, scorching walls are tightening around your fingers right now, craving his—or maybe something more, like his cock, or his tongue.
Perv!Eris can’t explain it, but it’s as if the aphrodisiac is affecting him too. The pause is brief, because ten seconds later you’re pulling off your soaked panties and tossing them on the floor, while you tease your clitoris with two fingertips, and eris grabs them and wraps them around his cock, which is already hard again.
Perv!Eris spends three hours in your room. But when the clock shows that sixty minutes have passed since the powder was administered, your pleas and screams become so desperate and pitiful that he likes to think he’s committed an altruistic act, when he simply appeared before you naked and with a hard cock, and shoved it between your thighs.
oh, don’t mind me, i’m just thinking about eris vanserra and his breeding kink!
now, let’s be honest. i think eris would be the kinkiest one with this breed-thing. im not talking about some dirty talk about carrying his heir here and then. oh, no.
that male gets feral when he thinks about you, all round and full of him, like- it’s the ultimate claiming that he has on your body. he literally gets hard just by picturing you like that.
with eris it never started some way. it was just there all the time, the feeling- the need to claim you that way. the first time he had the chance to fuck you, he knew he was gone. that was the point of no return.
your body just looked so ethereal while you where underneath him, his own chest pressing down on your breasts. he could already picture your tits leaking milk, swelling and oh so full, ready to be sucked by his lips. his mouth was basically watering just at the imagine in his mind.
and the way his cock was capable of keeping you so full, stretching your walls out until you couldn’t form a coherent thought? oh, that just added to the need of getting your womb full of his child, trust me.
he could see himself moving inside of you in your womb. he could see the outline of his cock in your stomach, and that alone was enough for him to start fucking you harder- faster. all you could hear was his voice against your ear, his whispering harsh and rough. he could barely contain himself anymore.
“yeah, you want that just as much as me, huh?”
he pressed an hand on your stomach. not gently, no. so hard that you felt the change of position inside of you, his cock now hitting deeper, kissing your cervix with every thrust. making it hurt- but oh, in such a good way.
“gonna fuck a baby inside of you. gonna get you so full of me that you’re going to leak my cum for a whole.” thrust. “fucking.” thrust. “week.”
when he cums he stills inside of you as deep as he can reach. the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix, the mix between pleasure and pain makes your head spin, you walls throb against his girth and before you know it your cumming too.
“keep clenching around me. make sure it sticks. make sure its deep and you’re full of me, baby.”
and right when you think he’s finally done… there he is, again. but he just cant let you waste his cum, he cant let it leak out of you as much as it makes him hard again, seeing you pussy covered in him.
so he fucks his cum in you again with two fingers, fast and almost angry that your body doesn’t want to keep him inside.
dont you want to carry his child, to be marked as his forever?
“eris- i can’t… t-too much” you complain.
he doesn’t stop. he just curls his fingers inside of you, hitting that spot he knows too well. you can see starts in the back of your eyes.
“take it.” he orders. his other hand pushes against your stomach, keeping you in place as he collets more of the cum that tries to escape and fucks it back inside of you- where it belongs.
“you’re gonna take it until your round with my fucking child.”
“b-but…”
“shh” he smirks. you feel yourself getting close again. “you dont worry your little head about this. i’ve got it. youre going to get you pregnant by the end of the night, baby, don’t worry.”
oh, don’t mind me, i’m just thinking about eris vanserra and his breeding kink!
now, let’s be honest. i think eris would be the kinkiest one with this breed-thing. im not talking about some dirty talk about carrying his heir here and then. oh, no.
that male gets feral when he thinks about you, all round and full of him, like- it’s the ultimate claiming that he has on your body. he literally gets hard just by picturing you like that.
with eris it never started some way. it was just there all the time, the feeling- the need to claim you that way. the first time he had the chance to fuck you, he knew he was gone. that was the point of no return.
your body just looked so ethereal while you where underneath him, his own chest pressing down on your breasts. he could already picture your tits leaking milk, swelling and oh so full, ready to be sucked by his lips. his mouth was basically watering just at the imagine in his mind.
and the way his cock was capable of keeping you so full, stretching your walls out until you couldn’t form a coherent thought? oh, that just added to the need of getting your womb full of his child, trust me.
he could see himself moving inside of you in your womb. he could see the outline of his cock in your stomach, and that alone was enough for him to start fucking you harder- faster. all you could hear was his voice against your ear, his whispering harsh and rough. he could barely contain himself anymore.
“yeah, you want that just as much as me, huh?”
he pressed an hand on your stomach. not gently, no. so hard that you felt the change of position inside of you, his cock now hitting deeper, kissing your cervix with every thrust. making it hurt- but oh, in such a good way.
“gonna fuck a baby inside of you. gonna get you so full of me that you’re going to leak my cum for a whole.” thrust. “fucking.” thrust. “week.”
when he cums he stills inside of you as deep as he can reach. the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix, the mix between pleasure and pain makes your head spin, you walls throb against his girth and before you know it your cumming too.
“keep clenching around me. make sure it sticks. make sure its deep and you’re full of me, baby.”
and right when you think he’s finally done… there he is, again. but he just cant let you waste his cum, he cant let it leak out of you as much as it makes him hard again, seeing you pussy covered in him.
so he fucks his cum in you again with two fingers, fast and almost angry that your body doesn’t want to keep him inside.
dont you want to carry his child, to be marked as his forever?
“eris- i can’t… t-too much” you complain.
he doesn’t stop. he just curls his fingers inside of you, hitting that spot he knows too well. you can see starts in the back of your eyes.
“take it.” he orders. his other hand pushes against your stomach, keeping you in place as he collets more of the cum that tries to escape and fucks it back inside of you- where it belongs.
“you’re gonna take it until your round with my fucking child.”
“b-but…”
“shh” he smirks. you feel yourself getting close again. “you dont worry your little head about this. i’ve got it. youre going to get you pregnant by the end of the night, baby, don’t worry.”
your (ex) boyfriend is a dick, but hey! at least you figured it out that the only man in your life could only by a certain shadowsinger🎀
tw: smut (nasty but sweeeet), reader ex bf being a disgusting little worm, loss of virginity, piv, oral (f!receiving), mdni! (6.2k)
"I'm sorry- what did you just say?" You ask, your tone extremely accusatory.
You can't believe what you heard, you can't believe that your boyfriend said that, thinking you would just let it slide.
"What do you mean?" He asks with his usual behaviour, always playing the innocent victim. Gods, you don't really know what you're even doing with this male. Losing your time, probably.
"You know damn well what i mean." He relaxes his back on the chair and sighs loudly, other than that- nothing. He looks umbothered, relaxed, even. This makes you even madder.
This is how he wants to play? Giving you the silence treatment until you give up and apologise? Maybe other days it would have worked, but not today, no. Too many times you ignored the signs and begged for his pardon, even tho he was clearly in the wrong. You just procrastinated this conversation for too long.
"I pretend an explanation. I swear-" His laugh interrupts you. It's not really a laugh, tho. It doesn't hold any fun or warmth in it. He's just playing with you. But you're tired of being a little toy, manipulated by a man you don't even love.
"It's not that difficult, babe." The nickname gets you a bitter taste on your tongue. You scoff, but he goes on undisturbed. "All you need to know is that males have instincts. Needs. Desires." You know where this conversation is going.
Even tho you don't love this man, not anymore, at least, tears still wet your lashes, streaming down your cheeks. You ask yourself what you have done wrong, how something like this could have happened. You've been nothing but a supportive girlfriend, always by his side. Defending him even when your family didn't approve him. It was always you and him against the world.
"You think men will get on their knees for you." This time, it's his turn to scoff. You swallow a painful knot at the base of your throat. You hate yourself for showing your vulnerable side in front of him while he doesn't look bothered at all. You hate him, too. "You like to think you live in those silly fairy tale books you read." A dark laugh echoes in the room. You have to cover your mouth, hiccups threatening to escape your lips.
"Let me get this for you, babe. We are not in a fucking book. This is real life. Men are not princes, you are not a fucking princess." He suddenly gets up. The chair scratches on the floor making a squeaking noise that makes you squeeze your eyes shut. He walks closer to you, mocking eyes look deep into yours.
"I- I don't understand..." Is all you can say, your confusion is genuine. You have been nothing but loyal to him. You have pretended nothing but loyalty. He smirks, stepping closer and closer until he stands in front of you.
You're so close you can feel his accelerated breath on your face. Your lower lip trembles, and you know it's not a good sign. Whatever you said only seem to madden him more.
"Stupid. Dumb little-" He stops, taking a deep breath. He's trying to hold back, you realise. "I have needs and you can't fucking satisfie them, do you understand now?" Except that you don't.
You shake your head. It's the wrong thing to do. It's the straw that breaks the camel's back. With a violent movement that you couldn't foresee, he pushes you until you touch the wall. Your head hits the solid surface with a hard thud, making you moan in pain. The smell of fear deepens in the room.
"You don't give me what I want? I take it somewhere else. You think you're worth the wait? Let me tell you, babe. You are not. You're just as every other Fae with a pussy between their legs. Understood?" You can't hold back a sob. This feels like a fever dream, and for a moment, you don't believe this is really happening. But it is. What you really can't believe is that you have been so blind you haven't seen who he really is.
"Because of... sex?" You whisper. Gods, if you weren't in this position, you would have laughed.
"Yes, because of sex!" He shouts straight into your face, he grips your cheeks with in hand, the hold painful to the point he leaves red marks on your skin. "Females exist only for one fucking thing. And you're not giving it to me."
"Let me go!" You cry out, protesting with your body, trying to escape from his strict hold. "Please... I don't know who you are anymore..."
He laughs cruelly, his eyes darkened, completely different to the ones you're used to. He puts his hands in his pockets, standing in front of you casually. Like he didn't just scream at your face those things. Like you're not sobbing in front of him, the one who is supposed to care for you, to love you. He turns around, walking out of the room as if nothing had happened, but you're too busy holding your face, still shaken by his violence, to notice.
After a few minutes you manage to calm down even the slightest bit, you are not sobbing anymore, even tho there are still tears wetting your marked cheeks. You follow his route. He must have exited the house because he is not in the kitchen, the only room connected by the door you just passed.
It's not empty, tho. A figure sits on the table, sipping coffee in a mug that looks extremely bitter. You recognise him almost instantly, his big wings too familiar to ignore.
"Hey." He must have heard you enter the room. He turns around, his voice soft and his eyes brightened by a smile. When he sees your tears and your red cheeks, it drops immediately. "What has he done."
It's not a question, you realise. He is mad, but not at you.
Never at you.
"Azriel..." It's the only thing you can manage to say, your voice trembling and broken.
It's a matter of istants: his arms are wrapped around your body tightly, supporting your body as you let go into a liberating cry.
You have no idea how long you stay like this, it could have been minutes or hours. He doesn't let you go even for an instant, and you find comfort in his warmth, in his familiar scent that wraps around you like a soft blanket.
"I always knew he was a dick." He declares, his words muffled in your hair.
You shake your head, at least you try, blocked by his chest. "Don't wanna talk about this right now." You explain, your voice still hoarse from the cries.
"It's okay." He whispers. "We don't have to." A smile appears on your face, a deep contrast with the tears that still wet your cheeks.
Only now you dare to detach yourself from the embrace. Your eyes seek his in almost a natural manner. "Az?" You ask.
"Yes?"
You know this is a bad idea, but you don't care at the moment. You feel your cheeks burning, you look at the floor, momentarily incapable of holding eye contact. "I need your help with something."
He poses a gentle hand on your face, forcing you to look at him. His voice is soft when he speaks, a tone that he reserves for you only. "Anything."
"He said that I'm not worth the wait." You start to explain. Azriel doesn't seem to understand the direction this conversation is taking, his eyebrows raised in a silent request to explain yourself further. "Like sex, you know?" You can only imagine how flustered you must look by the chuckle he lets out.
"Sorry, I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you, sunshine. I'm laughing because he is such a dick." His thumb moves on your skin, a caress light as a feather. "So what favour do you need?"
"I..." You swallow loudly. "Can you teach me? Please?"
For a moment, he seems out of breath, surprised beyond words. It doesn't last long, and he quickly recollect himself. You almost fear another laugh, or judgement. Instead, when you look into his eyes, the only thing you find is reassurance.
"Teach you... how to have sex?" He asks, and you can't answer, still embarrassed. You only nod, not knowing what you want anymore, at this point. But you trust this man in front of you, and if there's something you know for sure, is that he won't let you down on a moment like this. "Y/n... you don't really want this."
"No, that's not true." You complain. Your teeth capture your lower lip, a gesture you tend to do often when you're nervous.
"But it is. You're asking just because of that bastard, you don't really wanna have sex. Especially with me."
"No, it's not, Az." You take a deep breath. "If there's someone that i want to..." You struggle to find the words. "I trust you with all of myself. I want you to do it."
He forces himself to take a breath, considering his options as it gets past his lips, then a little nod makes you smile kindly. He moves a hand, the one that was firstly on your cheek, and he interlocks his fingers with yours. "Okay." He gives in. "Are you sure?"
"Positive." His shadows cover the both of you, until everything around you is black. In some way, it stills effect you, even if you already did it a million of times. When you see light again, it's because of the big window in his room. You stagger, but he is ready to stabilise you. He is used to do it, the gesture comes in a natural way.
A silent tension lingers in the air, your cheeks still burn from the embarrassment. "What do I do?" You ask, unsure. You balance yourself on your feet, your lower lip bleeds from the force of your teeth biting into it. The metallic smell of blood fills the room, mixing with his scent.
He gets even closer, towering over you. Your body surprise you - his presence and his closeness affect you, yes, but in a good way. Like you want him near you, you want him to touch you. With one hand he moves a lock of hair behind your ear. He looks at you in a way that makes you feel like the only woman in Prythian. Makes you feel seen for the first time in your life.
"You don't need to be nervous, sunshine." He whispers so close to you that his breath warms your face. You hadn't realised he was this close until now. With his thumb, in a gentle way, he frees your lip from the painful grip of your teeth. It's a fingertip touch, really, but it makes your heart race, suddenly too aware of his closeness, all your senses heightened.
"Okay." You whisper back. He continues to caress the skin of your face with his thumb, so softly you can barely feel it. Then, when you thought he was gonna put some distance between the two of you, a kiss. It's nothing you haven't done before, and it's not a difficult kiss, too. It's slow and naive, a little appetiser before the real meal, but it still leaves you breathless.
Even when you broke away from the kiss, lips swollen and cheeks reddened for the both of you, his eyes never left yours. And you can see every single thought behind those beautiful hazel pupils, you can see how is soft gaze turns into something more raw, carnal. You recognise that look that you often saw in your boyfriend's eyes too, but at the same time, is so different.
Azriel's hold affection, warmth, they make you feel wanted and desired in the best way. His were just... lust. Carnal, yes, but there was nothing more than that.
"Are you-" You chuckle, your nerves finally calming.
"Az, if you ask me one more time that, you won't like what I'll do." Your answer causes a smile to spread all over his face, making him look ethereal. Why the hell have you never noticed the beauty of this male before?
"Lay on the bed, then." You nod, following his orders. He position himself right on top of you, putting his weight on his elbows, avoiding to hurt you. Your noses are almost touching, and this time, you kiss him first. You didn't think twice, with him everything comes natural. It starts innocently as some moments ago, but it quickly turns more heated.
He licks your lower lip, asking a silent question. A permission, perhaps. And you give it to him. His tongue meets yours in a slow, heated dance that taste just right.
"Hello there." He whispers once you break the kiss, short for air. His voice is muffled by the skin of your collarbone, his face hidden in it. "Hi, Azzie."
You can feel his smile on your skin, you're ready to giggle, a sudden happiness taking over you. But Azriel starts to kiss your neck, and the only sound that escapes your lips is a gasp. His kisses are slow and warm, he starts with your neck, then your exposed collarbone, and he goes lower and lower until he meets the fabric of your dress. At this point, you're not sure you are breathing anymore.
He looks at you in another silent question. You nod without hesitation. His hands are gentle as he pull down the little strap, taking is time and his lips never leaving your skin. It's only a matter of minutes and your chest is quickly exposed for his eyes. Your hands try to cover your body, but he doesn't let you.
"No need to cover, sunshine." His eyes wonder on your skin, leaving you on fire. He poses a kiss where your heart belongs. "You're so pretty. My pretty girl." He murmurs against your skin, his breath tickles you, giving you goosebumps . "He never deserved you anyway. Can i touch you, love?”
You nod so quickly that it makes your head spin.
His hands starts to caress you, is thumb grazes your nipple, making you moan. You almost feel ashamed, the sound tastes sinful on your lips, but his smile reassures you.
The more he does, the more you can feel the tension leaving your body, your muscles relaxing and your mind emptying. He focus on your breasts, his lips wrapping around a nipple, flicking around it with his tongue. The feeling is unmatched, you never felt like this before.
With his hand, he plays with your other nipple, feeling the skin under his fingertips in a motion that leaves you addicted, craving for more.
The feeling between your legs intensifies, you can feel yourself growing needier. His lips leave your nipple with a pop, making you groan frustrated. His chuckle caresses your skin, making you shiver.
There's a knot, as quiet as powerful as painful, that starts to tighten at the base of your stomach. Your desire starts to pool deeper inside of you, sliding slowly and deliciously like honey against your skin.
You can feel it in the air how much both of you want, need, this. You can feel it in the change of your scents. He smells muskier, now. More manly, more him.
"Don't worry, you're going to like this a lot more." You're almost confused. Your head spinning with desire makes it hard for you to think coherently, but he doesn't need words for what he's going to do.
His lips lower, tracing a path all over you stomach, until he arrives between your legs. Your breath catches in your throat, your back naturally arching, your hips bucking towards his lips. "Already so needy, aren't you?" He chuckles, and his breath tickles your center, making you moan.
You quickly cover your mouth with your hand, embarrassed with the way you're already so excited, and he didn't do even that much. "Nuh-uh, sunshine."
He looks up at you, your eyes meeting and for a moment you forget everything else. You forget your shitty ex, you forget the feeling of your cheeks burning from both desire and embarrassment.
"No need to." He explains, the tip of his nose brushes your lower stomach in a gentle gesture that makes you smile. "I wanna hear you, pretty girl."
You nod almost immediately. Following his orders feels natural to you, and you certainly won't complain. "Okay." You let out and before you can say anything else, his tongue lick your bundle of nerves and you forget everything again.
The feeling is unlike anything you have ever experienced before, and the moment his eyes meet yours, looking at you from half-closed eyelids with dilated hazel pupils, you know that there will never be anyone else for you.
Only him.
You can't describe what his tongue does between your thighs. He licks, bites, sucks. He touches your soul, makes you wrap your legs around his head every time his teeth graze your clitoris and make you moan louder and louder.
"Fuck." He pulls away from your center for a few moments, but his eyes never leave you. "You taste even better than I ever imagined."
His lips are pink, swollen, and glistening with your juices. When he notices your gaze on them, he runs his tongue over them, collecting the liquid in a gesture that makes you squeeze your gummy walls around nothing.
A frustrated moan escapes your lips, but before the breath can finish passing through them, his tongue returns to stimulate your most intimate area, making you scream.
He forces you to stay still with his hands clenched around your thighs in a grip so firm it's almost painful, digging his nails into your flesh, but the sensation adds to that knot in your stomach and tightens it even more.
You want to scream with pleasure.
Scream at yourself for depriving yourself of this, of him, for so long.
But he slides one hand away from your thigh, depriving you of that delicious pain, and before you can complain again with a drawn-out moan, he slips it between your legs, teasing your entrance, which spasms involuntarily around nothing.
You've never wanted anyone to touch you so much in your entire life. You've never burned so much.
His fingers collect your wetness, playing with you and teasing you while you can do nothing but moan uncontrollably and thrust your hips against his face, silently begging for more. It never seems enough, but how could it be when his tongue is devouring you as if you were his last meal?
"Look at yourself, Y/n." You can't, though. Your eyes roll back, no longer able to hold his gaze as he eats you with slow movements, a sweet torture that you soon know you won't be able to resist. "He would never have made you feel this way."
"Only you." You barely whimper. "It's always been you."
"Fuck, yes." He murmurs.
For the brief moment when his lips let you breathe, he brings his fingers to your clit, teasing it with circular, precise movements until you throw your head back and beg for something you don't even know yourself.
"Please..."
"Please, what, sweet girl?" He laughs. Slowly, and his laughter runs through your limbs like soft velvet, a caress that slips under your skin, between the flesh of your ribs. "Use your words, sunshine. I know you can do it."
Just like that, he dives back into your intimacy, but this time his tongue caresses your entrance, tracing its outline before slipping inside and sucking.
The sounds your wetness and your throat make are pure sin. The smell that fills the room - sex and pleasure - floods your nostrils and makes you arch your back so much that you can overcome the iron grip of his hands and push your hips against his face, pressing yourself against him in the dirtiest way you could ever imagine.
"I- I don't... I don't know."
It's the truth.
Pleasure has always been a foreign concept to you, and receiving so much of it all at once empties your mind, leaving you incapable of rational thought.
And the way his thumb and tongue move doesn't help.
"You want to cum?" he asks.
Your hands, which until now had been clinging to the blankets as if they were your lifeline, slide toward him, slipping between the soft, tousled strands of his hair.
You nod, biting your lip to stifle a small cry as he bites your inner thigh with his teeth. You're sure that tomorrow morning there will be a mark left by his teeth, but for some reason, the thought turns you on even more.
Knowing that you have such a vivid and physical reminder of this moment with you almost throws you into the peak of your orgasm, but it's not enough.
"Use your words," he orders.
You feel your cheeks burning as you clench your fingers around his hair in a silent plea to stop talking and go back to fucking you with his tongue.
"I- I want... it." You whisper, the words mingling with his heavy breathing and your desperate moans.
"What do you want, sweet girl?"
His thumb continues relentlessly, and there you are. You're one step away from falling into that oblivion that you can barely name, but that your body craves so desperately that you can't help but listen to it and follow your instincts.
"I..." His thumb circles, pressing against your little button with more force than expected. "Azzie..."
"Say it," he demands.
"I- I want to cum." You beg. "Please, Azzie. Make me cum."
And he does.
He throws his head between your legs and drinks your juices, his tongue moving rapidly - too fast for the first time your body has ever experienced an orgasm - but your muscles welcome him and you arch your back so much it hurts, but you don't care. There is only him.
"Yes." He sounds breathless. Completely lost in you. "Good girl. My girl is a good fucking girl."
"Azzie..." You moan. And you moan again, and again, and again. His name is the only word that sounds right on your lips right now.
"You'll get me fucking addicted, sweet girl, you know that?" He mutters, more for himself than for you, you think. Then he chuckles. "You won't go back to him, he wouldn't make you feel this way, anyway. You're mine, now, fuck."
"Please..." You can only pray. "Please... Azzie, don't stop. Please."
"Don't worry, sweet girl. I will take care of you."
Only now do you notice that he's moving his hips in time with his movements. Only now do you notice how his cock, constricted by his pants, rubs against the mattress, as desperate as you are for friction, for release from that tension.
That's enough.
The realization that he's pleasuring himself while fucking you with his tongue is enough to make you come.
And you've never felt anything like it. The knot in your stomach breaks.
The orgasm leaves you breathless. It hits you without warning. All it took was one unexpected movement from Azriel, and your walls began to tighten around his tongue and your clitoris began to throb under his thumb.
If you had control of yourself, of your mind, perhaps you would now be embarrassed by the sound of his tongue fucking you, by the screams escaping your throat, by the way your fingers find purchase in his hair.
You can't react, you don't have time. You spread your legs, pull his hair, and lose all awareness of everything. Of time, of the space you're in.
There is only you, your pleasure, the male between your legs who continues to torture you as if he hadn't just made you see stars.
When you snap back to reality, Azriel is still devouring you as if he wants to eat you whole, but he does it slowly, gently. As if it were an apology for the way he catapulted you into the unknown territory of ecstasy.
"Are you okay?" he asks you. His voice is so low, so hoarse, that it sounds like a growl. He leaves a sweet kiss on the inside of your thigh, where just before he had bitten you with such violence that it made your insides clench with excited anticipation.
A few seconds pass in which the only sound you hear is your heavy breathing. When you open your eyes again, the first thing you see is him.
You lift yourself up on your elbows, letting go of his hair and placing your hands on your stomach, which is rising and falling at an unbearable pace.
"I... I never... felt this... way." You manage to get out. But nothing more than that.
"I know." He's sweet. He climbs up your legs and you admire his rosy cheeks, his lips so red they look bitten, glistening with your juices. His eyes still hide that glint of desire, and suddenly the knot in your stomach tightens again, and this time it's even more painful. "Are you okay?"
It's not enough for you. You want more. You want him.
Your boyfriend is now such a distant memory that you call yourself stupid for even thinking of giving yourself to that man without first looking - really looking - at the man in front of you, who seems as destroyed as you are, and hasn't even been touched. He hasn't even taken off his clothes.
"Again."
"Again?"
You nod. You bite your lower lip, looking at the pillow under your head rather than his eyes. Your cheeks burn for whatever made you say such a thing out loud, and the weight of his gaze is impossible to bear, especially when his lips curve into a lazy smile that makes you throb between your legs - again.
"Want more."
"What did I say about using your words?"
You feel your cheeks burn, and you know you're blushing under the eyes—and body—of the male above you, who looks at you full of expectation and with pupils dilated with lust.
"I know, it's just..." You turn your head to the side, avoiding eye contact. "I don't even know what I... want."
"Y/n." He breathes. "Look at me, love."
He moves two fingers to your cheek, forcing you to look at him.
"What you did to me." You begin. "It was... good. Your comment makes Azriel chuckle. "I want it to be good for you too."
Azriel could feel his heart tighten at your words. He could. And he did.
But the feeling is accompanied by his cock throbbing against the fabric of his pants, his mind already wandering to you, to the way you're so small and embarrassed, and your first thought is still to give him pleasure.
He has to restrain himself. He has to physically clench his fingers on your bare hips, squeezing your skin, otherwise he would have maneuvered you like a doll and put you on your knees, your mouth full of his cock.
"Tonight is not about me." He traces a series of imaginary lines on your stomach, making you jump with the tickling mixed with the heat that builds up in your belly. "I want you to feel good, feel like you never did."
"You already did." You complain.
"Then let me do it again."
His shadows act in a matter of moments. His clothes disappear, leaving him naked in front of you.
You don't know where to look. Your eyes run over his skin, and he can feel them on him as if they were burning against him, as if they were trying to brand him in your mind.
You blush so much that your cheeks feel like they're on fire. Your gaze moves from his face to his chest, to his abdominal muscles, and finally to the area between his legs, where his erection is hard and throbbing against his stomach, the tip already slightly moist with precum.
You don't even know what's going to happen now, but your body seems to know better than you do.
"Azzie... It's... b-big." You widen your eyes.
"You don't have to be frightened. He reassures you, seeing the way you seem to pull back slightly. He has to suppress the sense of pride that explodes in his chest at your reaction. "Are you still sure you want this?"
You nod with almost frightening determination.
"Yes, please, Azzie."
He kisses you. His tongue meets yours and begins to explore your mouth, while his hands caress you everywhere. From your hips to your breasts to between your legs.
"Will it hurt?" You whisper on his lips, once the kiss is interrupted by your moan when his fingers brush your clitoris, making you rotate your hips for more.
Azriel doesn't feel like lying to you. He could never lie to a face like yours, looking up at him with wide eyes glistening with desire. "A bit."
"Do you promise you'll be gentle?"
Your concern is almost sweet. "I promise, love. I want it to be as pleasant as possible for you."
"And will you enjoy it?"
Azriel raises his lips at your umpteenth question. "Probably more than I should, pretty girl."
With one last kiss on your lips, he lifts himself up, sliding himself better between your legs and making sure your feet are crossed behind his back. With one hand, he grabs his almost angry-looking erection, perhaps a little arrogant, even, and for the first time slips it between the folds of your legs, without entering you.
The contact makes you both moan, and hearing him whisper your name in a hoarse voice has a decidedly intoxicating effect on you. You feel the wetness increase, spreading over your inner thighs and gathering at your entrance, where the tip of Azriel's cock teases you, never crossing that line you fear so much.
"So good..." you murmur when you feel him against your clit with a thrust of his hips.
Azriel has to fight the urge to roll his eyes back in his head at your moans and the way you chant his name under your breath as if it were a prayer. He also has to restrain himself from cumming like that, without even really fucking you, and painting your stomach and pussy white, marking you with his cum.
Without warning, he pushes his cock inside, stretching your walls so much that it feels like he's tearing you apart. "Are you okay?" He breathes against your lips.
He starts a trail from your face, down your jaw, to your neck, leaving wet, calm kisses to distract you.
"Hurts a bit." You whimper, trying to hide your face in his chest, but failing miserably, especially when he leans down again to take a nipple between his lips and suck, making you moan.
It takes a couple of minutes for the pain to turn into pleasure and the burning sensation to subside. Azriel hasn't moved an inch, but now you're becoming aware of every millimeter of him inside you. You can feel him in your stomach, you can feel every vein, every time it pulses.
You push your hips against his, bringing your bodies so close together that your clitoris touches the light fuzz above his cock, making your head spin for the millionth time. You're too embarrassed to ask him to move, but your movement speaks louder than a thousand words.
He starts to thrust slowly.
"Fuck," he mutters under his breath. Every time he pulls out until only the tip remains inside you, then pushes back into your wet, warm walls, a whispered curse escapes his lips, making you clench painfully around him. "Fuck, love. Keep clenching around me like that and—fuck..."
"Azzie..." You can't help but moan as he fucks you as if it were the only way to stay alive. "So good..." You whimper. "So big..."
"Y/n." He whimpers, his teeth gritted so much that it probably hurts. But Azriel's mind can only focus on how tight you are, on how much your walls are trying to milk him for all he's worth. It's embarrassing, really, how quickly he's sure he can cum.
His hands grip you everywhere in a desperate attempt to distract himself, your ankles lacing behind his back, pulling him even closer.
Every time he pulls out of your body, you whimper, saddened by the loss of the fullness his cock offers you, and then he pushes into you again, slamming his hips against your center. It's all too much, but at the same time, it's not enough. Your hands dig into his back, chest, arms. They search for something to hold on to as pleasure mixes with the pain caused by the force of his thrusts, and Azriel can see in your face how drunk you are on his cock.
He knows he should stop, slow down, take a deep breath, and start again more calmly. That this is your first time and you trusted him enough to give it to him, he find it sweet, really. But then you look at him through misty eyes, empty of thought behind your dilated pupils, and your lips part to let out the sound of his name, and then his hands grab your hips, squeezing until you moan, and he supports you as he fucks you with even more vigor.
He knows you're close. You feel it too.
Your walls are throbbing so hard that you're sure they've taken the shape of his cock. Every vein, every curve, is imprinted inside you. You feel the familiar knot in your stomach tighten, the tension increasing so much that it hurts.
"Azzie, I'm..." Your words are slurred, without coherent form. "Please, Azzie..."
You are so full of him that you feel the tip of his cock touching your stomach. You see it. The way your belly bulges when he enters you, the way his eyes don't know whether to look into your eyes, to look at your tits bouncing with the force of his thrusts, to look at your pussy as he fucks you.
"Fuck, love, look at—look at that." He's out of breath from the effort of restraining himself from turning you around and taking you from behind, coloring your back with white spurts. He runs a hand through your hair, pulling it back to angle your view toward your belly. He brings his other hand to your stomach, pressing where his cock bulges.
"Azzie, I'm..." You mumble. "So full."
"I'm gonna cum, Y/n." He warns you. His thrusts become more sudden, less rhythmic. Sloppy, even. His body collapses on top of yours and his pubic bone teases your clit.
You're close too, and he knows it.
"Together," you beg.
You make him smile against your neck as he bites your skin and then kisses it, as if to make amends.
"Sweet, sweet girl," he murmurs, still pressed against your skin. You feel his warm breath breaking against your collarbones. "You wanna cum with me?"
"Mhmm, yes, Azzie." Not only do you sound desperate, but your voice breaks just as you reach orgasm.
Your walls spasm around him as he growls at you, shifting his attention to your tits, taking a nipple between his lips and sucking it, helping you ride the wave of pleasure. Moments later, it's his turn.
He cums with your name on his lips, his voice hoarse and broken just like yours. You're still riding the aftershocks of your orgasm, your pussy still throbbing against him as he makes sure all his cum goes inside you, into your womb.
Silent moments pass. Only your heavy breathing breaks the peaceful silence.
"Are you okay?" Azriel asks you.
You almost feel like laughing. Okay is an understatement. So, instead of telling him how you feel, you let him feel it. You grind your hips against his, his cock still buried deep inside you, and you feel his cum spill out of you and stain your inner thigh, but you couldn't care less. Not while you feel that knot forming again, and the desire to experience the inexplicable sensations Azriel made you feel returns.
"More?" you plea.
Azriel chuckles, the sound hot and deep at the same time, so much that it carves into your flesh. "Oh, love. You have no idea what you have just started."
azriel masterlist - main masterlist
A/n: hello beautiful ladies, I just wanted to hop here and say that english is not my first language and that I wrote this literally in two hours, so please be gentle and sorry if you’ll find any mistakes🙏
Summary: After a bad day at work, your Azriel is always there to help you.
Warnings: none, just pure fluff!
W/c: 2,5k
The door closes behind you with a quiet click, but the sound seems to echo in your bones. It’s been a day — that kind of day. One of those days where everything felt a little too sharp. Where your chest felt too tight, your voice too small, your light too dim.
You’re not even fully inside before the tears sting your eyes, blurring your vision as you set your keys down with trembling fingers. You don’t want to cry. You’ve been holding it together all day — through the clipped tones, the impossible demands, the exhaustion you’ve been swallowing like poison. But now…
Now you’re home. And something inside you just gives.
You don’t even make it to the couch. You just stand there, frozen in the middle of the hallway, head hanging, breathing in ragged, shaky gasps.
And that’s when you hear him.
Soft footsteps. The familiar rustle of wings. And then his voice — deep, quiet, and gentle, like the first stars rising at dusk.
“Sweetheart?”
You can’t look up. You don’t want him to see you like this. Not after how hard you tried today. Not when your makeup is probably smudged, your heart cracked open, your hands clenched so tightly they tremble.
But Azriel doesn’t need you to look up. He’s already crossing the room, already gathering you into his arms, already holding you like he’s been waiting to do it all day.
You fall into him like a tide hitting shore.
There’s no judgment in the way he wraps you up — only warmth. Only strength. His wings curve around you protectively, shielding you from the world you just escaped. His hands cradle the back of your head, one gloved thumb brushing your cheek as your tears soak his shirt.
You don’t speak, and he doesn’t ask.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, lips brushing your temple. “You don’t have to do anything now. Just let me hold you.”
And you do.
You don’t know how long you stay there. Minutes blur together. But Azriel never moves until you do. When your sobs finally soften to hiccups, when your trembling eases just enough, he presses one last kiss to your forehead and pulls back.
His gaze finds yours — those deep, fathomless hazel eyes, full of moonlight and shadow and love.
“Let me take care of you,” he says, and his voice is so tender it makes you cry all over again.
He lifts you without asking, one arm beneath your knees, the other curled around your back. His shadows swirl like they’re worried, nuzzling at your cheeks and brushing your hair with barely-there touches, as if trying to help.
He carries you down the hall, past the warm flicker of faelight, past the soft scent of bergamot he always keeps burning in the evenings. When you reach the bathroom, it’s already warm — lit in low, golden hues. The bath is drawn, steam rising in lazy spirals, the scent of lavender and vanilla curling in the air.
“How did you…?”
“I heard your breathing change before you even opened the door,” he says simply. “You sounded tired.”
You try to laugh, but it cracks halfway out. He doesn’t push it.
He kneels before you as he helps you undress, his movements slow and reverent. Like you’re something precious. Something breakable. He meets your eyes each time he peels away a layer, searching for any sign of resistance. There is none. Just exhaustion. Just the quiet, unspoken need to be held, to be cared for.
He guides you into the water and settles behind you, fully clothed, sitting on the edge with his sleeves rolled up. You lean back against the porcelain wall, sighing as the warmth wraps around you.
Azriel’s hands are in your hair next. Strong hands made for war, made for shadows and flight — now massaging lavender-scented soap gently into your scalp like he’s trying to coax the pain right out of your bones.
He rinses you with care. No rush. No words needed. Just the rhythm of water, the soft press of cloth to skin, the quiet hum he sometimes makes when he’s focused.
Eventually, your eyes flutter shut, your breathing evening out.
“Still with me?” he whispers, kissing the crown of your head.
You nod sleepily.
After the bath, he wraps you in a thick towel and dries you off slowly. The towel’s warm — of course he warmed it — and it smells faintly of cedar and him. He leads you to your shared bedroom and helps you into your softest clothes: the oversized shirt you always steal from him, the fuzzy socks you wear when you’re too tired to feel like a person.
Azriel pulls back the covers for you, but you don’t climb in just yet. Instead, you follow him back to the kitchen, if only because you want to stay close.
He makes the hot chocolate exactly the way you like it — dark, with cinnamon and a bit of nutmeg. Marshmallows, yes. But only two. He remembers. He always remembers.
You sit at the kitchen table, legs curled beneath you, cradling the mug as the warmth sinks into your chest. He watches you over the rim of his own cup, those shadows still flickering protectively around your feet.
“I know today hurt,” he says softly. “But none of it changes how strong you are.”
You glance at him, and he leans forward, brushing his fingers along your cheek.
“Even strength needs rest. Even the stars need the night.”
You don’t have words. But you don’t need them. You just set your mug down and crawl into his lap, curling into his chest. His wings wrap around you again, his arms strong and sure.
He carries you back to bed in silence.
Once you’re tucked in, he lies beside you, pulling you close with one arm around your waist and the other gently carding through your damp hair. His lips brush your temple once. Then again.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, like a promise.
You’re just beginning to drift off, the tension in your chest finally loosened by warmth, chocolate, and the solid weight of Azriel wrapped around you — when you feel his hand shift slightly.
He doesn’t let go, not even for a second. One arm is still curved tightly around your waist, anchoring you to him like he’s afraid you might float away. But now his thumb is moving in slow, steady strokes over the fabric of your shirt. Back and forth. Back and forth. Gentle as a lullaby.
“You’re not asleep yet,” he murmurs into the crown of your head, his breath warm against your skin.
You smile faintly but don’t open your eyes. “How do you always know?”
His voice is a low hum, barely more than a breath. “I know your breathing. And your heartbeat. I know you.”
You turn slightly in his arms so you’re facing him now, nose brushing his collarbone. He’s already watching you, even in the soft glow of the faelights, eyes half-lidded and full of something you don’t have a word for — something deeper than love, heavier than adoration.
“I’m sorry I broke down like that,” you whisper.
His brow furrows. “Don’t apologize for feeling, ever. Especially not with me.”
You try to speak again, but he cuts you off gently by pressing his forehead to yours. “You don’t have to carry everything alone. Not when I’m here.”
Your heart cracks open all over again, but this time, not from pain. From relief. From the weight of love too big for your chest.
You reach up and run your fingers lightly through his hair. He melts into your touch immediately, the tension in his jaw easing.
“You always know what I need before I do,” you murmur. “It’s a little unfair.”
He chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through your bodies where they’re pressed together. “You deserve to be known that well.”
A silence settles over you — not awkward, not empty. Just full of the quiet understanding that no words can improve upon. His hand slides beneath the hem of your shirt, settling warm against your bare back, and you sigh at the contact.
“You’re warm,” you mumble, already slipping back toward sleep.
Azriel shifts so you’re tucked fully into his chest, legs intertwined beneath the sheets, one of his wings folding over you like a blanket. Safe. Hidden. Sheltered.
He kisses your hair again. “You’re safe now, love. I’ve got you.”
And he holds you like that — heart to heart, skin to skin, shadow to shadow — until your breathing slows. Until your tears dry. Until your muscles go soft and your mind floats somewhere between dreams and reality.
Just before sleep finally pulls you under, you feel his lips brush your ear, soft and careful as a prayer.
“You’re everything to me. Even on your worst days.”
And in the quiet dark, you believe him.
You fall asleep wrapped in his arms, and for the first time in days — maybe weeks — you don’t dream of the things that hurt. You dream only of wings and warmth and home.
You wake slowly, reluctantly — as if even your dreams knew better than to leave his arms.
The first thing you feel is warmth. The second is weight — the protective press of a muscled arm draped over your waist, and the solid curve of a wing still tucked half over you like a second blanket. The third thing you feel is… peace.
You blink your eyes open, slow and bleary. The room is still wrapped in dawn light, soft and pale, the color of cream poured into tea. Faint birdsong filters in through the cracked window, and the scent of Azriel’s cedarwood skin still clings to your sheets.
He’s still asleep. Or at least, you think he is — until his thumb starts tracing slow circles against your hip again. His voice, low and rough with sleep, slips out against the curve of your neck.
“Morning, sunshine.”
You hum, burying your face into the crook of his shoulder. “Mm. It’s not morning yet.”
“It’s been morning for twenty minutes.”
“I don’t recognize that time zone.”
He laughs softly, and you feel it — the vibration through his chest, where your palm is still resting. He’s shirtless, of course. Which is unfair. He knows what he’s doing. One glance down at the exposed plane of his chest, warm and golden in the early light, and you feel a different kind of heat stir in your stomach.
But you’re still tired. Still soft.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asks, voice a little clearer now. His hand rises to push the hair from your face, and his thumb lingers at your cheekbone.
You nod against him. “Because of you.”
Azriel doesn’t respond immediately. Just watches you for a long, still moment, like he’s trying to memorize you in this exact second — sleepy, safe, curled into his chest in a tangle of blankets and love.
Then he leans in and kisses you.
It’s not rushed. Not greedy. Just the kind of kiss that says everything words fail to — I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re loved. His lips are warm, and soft, and familiar in a way that makes your entire body sigh into him.
You kiss him back.
When you pull away, you expect him to settle again. But instead, he gives you a soft look — all mischief and shadow — and brushes his nose against yours.
“You hungry?”
You blink, caught off guard. “You’re making breakfast?”
Azriel raises a brow. “I do know how to cook.”
You squint. “You also know how to threaten entire war camps with a stare. That doesn’t mean you do it for fun.”
He smirks, already sitting up. His wings stretch behind him, catching the morning light as he rolls his shoulders. “I’ll take that as a yes. Don’t move. Stay cozy.”
He leans down to kiss your forehead, then again at the corner of your lips, then your jaw, as if he can’t help himself — as if he needs to kiss every inch of your face before he leaves the bed.
And then he’s gone, his bare feet whispering across the floor, shadows curling playfully behind him. You watch him move — shirtless, hair tousled, so casual and lethal and beautiful all at once — and you wonder how you ever survived a day without him.
You stay wrapped in the blankets like he told you, smiling faintly to yourself as you hear cabinets opening in the kitchen, pans shifting, the soft sizzle of something being cooked in butter.
You think maybe he’s humming.
Ten minutes later, he returns — shirtless, smug, and carrying a tray.
Two slices of thick, golden toast. Eggs, fluffy and perfectly seasoned. Stewed fruit. And beside it, a steaming mug of your favorite tea with a tiny drizzle of honey. Not too sweet. Just right.
You sit up slowly, blinking at the display.
He sets the tray across your lap and kisses your temple. “Told you I could cook.”
You look up at him with wide eyes. “Okay, fine. I surrender. You’re the full package.”
Azriel smirks. “Took you long enough.”
The two of you eat together in bed, your legs tangled beneath the covers, his hand resting on your thigh when he isn’t reaching for his own mug. You feed him a bite of your toast and he leans in without hesitation, smiling around it. Your heart aches in the best way.
When the plates are empty and your stomach is warm, he takes the tray back to the kitchen — only to return moments later, climbing back into bed and pulling you onto his lap like you belong there.
And gods, you do.
You curl into his chest again, letting your fingers trace the faint scars across his back, the ones he never flinches at anymore when you touch.
“Thank you,” you whisper, because you can’t not say it. “For last night. For this morning. For everything.”
He presses a kiss into your hair.
“You don’t have to thank me for loving you,” he says quietly.
You bury yourself deeper into his embrace.
“I love you too,” you whisper, and feel his arms tighten around you, just a little. Like he needed to hear it, even if he already knew.
He leans back into the pillows, one hand stroking your spine, and murmurs sleepily, “We don’t have to do anything today. Just stay right here.”
azriel's cock is pretty, like very pretty. now, this might sound weird.
you never thought a cock could be pretty, you never thought something like that could even come out of your lips. but that's simply the truth.
the first time you saw it, you nearly drooled all over it like a common whore. the sight alone made you drip between your legs, your mouth salivated. you wanted it deep in your throat.
now, azriel had no objection, of course. he finds it almost funny how addicted you are to sucking his cock, but you just can't help it. his tip is the prettiest shade of pink, his veins a deep mix between red and purple, after all it's not your fault that it's so perfect!
"you just love this cock too much, huh, baby?" his tone is mocking, but you're to focused between his legs to care. you suck on his tip like your life depends on it, the salty taste of precum makes your eyes roll back. you can't get enough. "yeah... don't fucking stop, love."
where you can't reach with your mouth, you use a hand to give him pleasure. his cock is so girthy that you almost can't hold it all, your fingertips barely touching. the sight makes azriel feral.
usually, it doesn't take long before he takes control. his hands hold your hair, guiding you. or more like fucking into you, using you as toy for his pleasure. "you're such a perfect little whore, babe. look at how good you take this cock..."
tears stream down your eyes, you moan with your mouth full, incapable of doing anything else. the vibrations only add to his pleasure, his thrusts hit deeper and deeper each time, the back of your throat hurts, but you couldn't care less. "you like when i use you as a fleshlight, huh? yeah... you sure do, love. look at how you're drooling."
his chuckle is dark, his rhythm unforgiving as some shadows swirl around your little bundle of nerves. you can't breathe, too overwhelmed by the stimulation and the lack of oxygen. "don't worry, love, just a little more..." his voice is sinful, and the scene is just too erotic for you. you can feel your own orgasm grow, a quick knot forming at the base of your belly. "you want my cum down your throat, don't you? dirty little thing."
you nod, at least you try. shadows swirl around your body, gifting you little caress on the most sensitive parts. you clench around nothing, and you almost complain about your little hole being empty but azriel is quicker, he takes control of your actions, his hands hold your hair so tight that it hurts, but it only adds to the pleasure your feeling.
"just a little more... just a little more, love."
and seconds after, strings of cum paint your throat white and you drink from his cock, sucking him with the little energy you have left and milking him until he begs you to stop, and suddenly his hands try to push you away, but you can't help it, especially when he tastes so good<3
for all my a court of shadows and darkness fan, im sorry to announce that i wont be posting the story on tumblr anymore:(
i wont delete anything, but posting here takes me so much time;(
BUT you can still read more chapters on wattpad, i try to post there weekly, so if you are interested in continuing selaene and azriel's story, you can find me here.
