#AZ SWEEP PLEASE

[thecoochiefairy]

soon az i get home. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 6.8K word count. blackfem!reader, r&b artist coded! onyankopon, grumpy! onyankopon, sweet!onyankopon, dominant!onyankopon, size kink, black woman, vaginal penetration, lil bit of sweet talkin’, lil bit of aggressive talk, creaming, oral [f], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, squirting, riding, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ reference to the title, this song did inspire this fic. teehee.

𝓐ᥫ᭡ :: onyankopon pays you a visit when he touches down in the city.

visual. visual. visual.

SHINE N’ JAM LATHERED YOUR FINGERS AS YOU TOOK A FINAL SWIPE TO YOUR CLIENTS HAIR. Bohemian box braids had been the style of choice, 613 the full color from her permanently dyed scalp. It wasn’t a color you would’ve chosen for yourself, but it looked beautiful along her chocolate brown skin. She pulled it off flawlessly.

“Niggas wouldn’t know what to do with me if I could pull off being a blonde,” you sigh, giving a light smile as you’re on the final braid, your fingers moving effortlessly against the hair being pulled between your knuckles.

“They barely know what to do with me as it is,” she playfully rolled her eyes, “How much longer to go?” 

As she held her phone up, you took a peek in the mirror, able to tell she was on FaceTime. No doubt with her man again.

“I’m on my last braid, babe. Promise,” you reassure, knowing you’d said that before. You had a habit of creating more spaces along your clients scalp, unable to finish your work until you felt that the hair looked entirely full.

“You sure?” 

She smirked at you through the side view mirror, her brown eyes twinkling, “The last time you said that, I had to call off work.”

It had only been about six months since you began doing house calls, meaning you were more relaxed in the comfort of your condo—but that didn’t mean you had to drag with your appointments.

“I’m sorry, okay? I know I went over my time a bit. I just want you to feel…” you turn her chair towards the illuminating mirror, mahogany brown wood wrapped along the outside of the LED lights, “Pretty, hm? Tell me you like it since you wanna complain so much.”

“You want to hear that I love it so desperately,” she smiled, standing up from the chair to inspect herself. She didn’t bother with a cape anymore, her black tank showing off her collarbone and arms. The braids fell just behind her shoulders, “You know I love it. Always do.”

She glances back as you begin sweeping strands off the floor, raising an eyebrow, “You’ need help cleaning up for the night?”

“No, no—you’re fine,” you shake your head, “I got one more client coming. Asked me to squeeze him in,” you briefly explain. 

You can feel her gaze against you, raising your eyes to a smirk as you say, “What, girl?”

“One more client, huh?” she folded her arms over her chest, the smirk still there, “Girl, please. It’s after ten,” she lightly laughed, “Who is it?”

You roll your eyes with a sigh. She was one of your regular clients, and you talked like sisters. You couldn’t help but be honest. 

“Look, don’t go opening that big ass mouth. It’s Onyankopon, okay? He still comes back down to get his hair braided by me.”

Everyone in New Orleans knew him—he’d actually been successful in making it out of the city, becoming a world renowned R&B artist. You’d been braiding his hair up for years, keeping the relationship you had with him extremely private as he didn’t want anyone ruining your privacy.

“Onyankopon?—You lying right now,” she gawked, slapping a hand over her mouth, “Nah, I got to take a picture—I promise you I won’t tell nobody,” she bit her bottom lip, “I promise!”

You rolled your eyes, “Girl, no. He doesn’t want people to know his location in the city—he hates that,” you take some Lysol, spraying down the chair.

“Just one picture, beloved, please? I’ll give you—I’ll pay you,” she took her wallet out, shuffling through her cash, “I know the man is finer in person. You be trying to be so secretive with these Niggas—“

She pauses, “Hollon’—y’all got something going on? That’s why I can’t get no picture?”

“Girl, what? No,” you scrunch your nose, “I just do the man’s hair,” you began pulling out the products you needed for the upcoming appointment, now hiding your face from your client.

You wouldn’t say you had a thing with him. Your relationship started the moment he DM’d you. He said he remembered you from high school and asked you to be his braider—he also mentioned you were pretty—but that wasn’t relevant to the situation. With each appointment, you never treated him as if he was some celebrity. He was just…Onyankopon. He liked that about you.

“Aht, aht,” she shook her head, “If it isn’t nothing with that man, lemme’ get a peek then!”

You rolled your eyes, “Now you ain’t getting shit. I’ll see you in five weeks,” you shooed her behind with your hands, pressing the elevator within your condo.

“Whatever, hoe.” 

She stepped on the elevator, looking back at you with a smirk, “You can kiss that tip goodbye!” 

Then she was off, the doors closing behind her. You finally had a moment of peace. You allowed the instrumentals of Brent Faiyaz’ Wasteland to thrum along your living room as you cleaned, suddenly feeling a sense of anxiety. You don’t know why you feel yourself becoming so nervous due to the previous conversation you had—but you felt your stomach bubbling at the thought of the elevator doors opening with him on the other side. You’d never felt like this before.

Then, your phone rings. Your eyes glance down—ONY—it reads, and you have to swallow down the racehorse running within your mind as you mindlessly answer, “Hello?”

“You know I’m coming, right?”

 A deep, monotone voice that’s smooth like butter spoke through the phone.

You almost roll your eyes, “I’m aware, Onyankopon. C’mon, boy. I’m getting sleepy.”

A deep chuckle fills your ear from through the phone, “I bet yo’ ass gon’ stay up for me though.”

You hear the elevator ding and a slow creak as the two metal doors begin to open, the phone and your hand slightly falling as you glance over to the tall figure entering your condo. He’s dressed in a sable jersey with cargo pants, the oversized top still able to show the silhouette of his muscular frame. The tattoos that litter across his arms pop under the lights of your home, silver chains along his neck that match with the watch on his wrist. He smells like a mixture of musk and tonka bean—his fro is sprawled around his head, jaw locked as mint gum is trapped in between his full dark pink lips. 

You sigh in reply to his words as you hang up the phone, “Imma’ do what I need to do to make my money, you know that.”

He shut the elevator doors behind himself, “I know your ass finna’ charge me extra for me being late,” he chuckled, walking towards the chair. He paused in his steps for a moment, eyes raking over your body, “What’s up, baby?”

Baby. It was a simple term of endearment he used, an accent prolific with that specific word. Your eyes run over him—the ink on his face, the goatee and facial hair along his jaw and cheeks, even with his hair sprawled everywhere— he still looked good. 

“Hey,” you give him a faint smile, “Was getting here okay? No paparazzi?” You tease. 

“Nah, not tonight, at least. They been on my ass though,” he huffed, “A nigga can’t even go get a carton of milk without somebody following me.”

“They’re just excited, Ony,” you give a soft laugh, reaching into your drawer of supplies as you pull out a rat tail comb, “Did you wash your hair already?”

He nodded to show you he had, sitting down on the forest green chair. You never understood how someone like him could be so intimidating, his gaze being enough to make you crumble on the spot.

On the other hand, sometimes he wondered if you knew what you looked like. Strawberry red hair falling in layers down your back, no middle or side part within the style—it just flowed wherever you went. Your army green baby tee and matching drawstring yoga pants that clung to your body, and you always scented bergamot with a milky vanilla. The cute way your black square glasses always tipped at your golden nose ring, it made you so— pretty. 

“Why are you in town anyways? You got’ a show or something?” You ask him, going over to your kitchen island, washing your hands of the previous grease and hair products used on your last client.

“Doing a lil’ sum’ at the Smoothie King center, nothing too crazy. I’m surprised you ain’t hear about that,” he glanced towards where you’d been, only able to see the back of your head along the mirror, “But you stay under the rock. I ain’t even gon’ hold you.”

You come up behind him as you shake your head, “I’m sorry. I ain’t mean it like that— I just hadn’t checked your socials since you texted me asking for an appointment,” you apologize, not trying to seem indifferent to his status, even if you knew he didn’t care about that.

His head tilted, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you with a small smile, “You always apologizing,” he muttered, reaching his hand into his pocket, “You needa’ stop doin’ that. I know you got me when I come here. I ain’t tripping on that.”

Your dark lashes flutter, your reflexes pushing your glasses closer up against your face as you feel your cheeks becoming warm. You instinctively dig your fingers into his scalp, pulling at the soft coils to assess his hair, “You’ still tender headed?”

He smacked his teeth before giving a small wince at the sting, “You’ don’t see me about to cry?” He glared, “You a pain,” he huffed, tilting his head to look back up at you, “Why you always tryna hurt a nigga?”

You roll your eyes, “Ony, please. It’s only been two months since you last saw me,” you stare blankly through the mirror, mentally preparing for the fight he always gave before you actually started.

“I don’t like you no more. You hate me. You tryna test me,” he began, going down a small list of your wrongdoings, “I’mma’ find another braider. You want me to feel pain.” 

He saw the look in your eyes, his large hands already gripping the handles of his seat. Every appointment was like this, and you knew it. He got comfortable around you—more than he should’ve—maybe it was because you grew up around each other in high school. He knew you—and you knew how to be patient with his ass.

You flip the rat tail comb in your fingers, “You need the teddy bear I give my babies that can’t handle getting their hair braided?” You raise an eyebrow, “You’ getting on my nerves already, boy.”

“I ain’t no damn boy,” He gave you a stern look—but it only got you to smirk. He grumbled under his breath, turning his head back towards the mirror, “Do yo’ thang.”

You begin parting his hair into six straight backs, PARTYNEXTDOOR 4 now playing each song throughout the album, humming quietly in the background. You were always efficient with your fingers, swapping product in between his scalp the millisecond after you parted. He was sensitive when it came to his head, but after about ten minutes, his jaw clenched as his eyes closed, relaxing under your touch. Sometimes he’d even fall asleep, and you’d just adjust to how he laid in that moment. 

You ask him, “You’ excited for the show?”

Though his eyes were closed, he nodded his answer, a low hum in his throat. You honestly loved when he got like this—his head would drop to the side, allowing you to braid easier. He trusted you. 

“They gon’ go crazy,” he mumbled, the corner of his lip lifting up in a smirk.

“I’m sure,” you muse, “The women love your big headed ass.”

“The niggas fuck with me too,” he smiled, opening an eye to look over at your reflection in the mirror, “You don’t like me?” 

You glance at his opened eyes through the mirror, still continuing to perfect the parting spaces in his head, envisioning the style as you softly reply, “I like you. You know that.”

He was always able to see the way you held back your smile, but his grin only widened as he looked at you. 

“I know yo’ ass love me,” he began, “All up in my hair, touchin’ me and shit.”

“Not too much,” you laugh, “I touch you cause you pay me to. Them’ girls outside would braid you’ up for free, I don’t play like that,” you smack your lips, “You’ seen your family since you been here?”

His grin faltered in the slightest, the question souring his mood. You’d grown to learn it was a sensitive subject—especially for a young man who wanted the world, but only had a couple people in his corner. You could see the way his facial features turned stern, Onyankopon chewing on the gum in his mouth before he opened his eyes, looking in the mirror to answer. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, “Spent some time with momma before she had to go to work. I got to visit my grandma for a little bit too. She always askin’ about you.”

“Bout’ me?” You raise an eyebrow, “I thought you ain’t tell nobody you came over here?” 

But that wasn’t what you really wanted to say. It made your face a bit warm to know he’d mentioned you to his family. So you clear your throat, knocking the warmth of your face away as you correct, “I ain’t know your mawmaw remembered me.”

“‘Course she remembered yo’ ass,” he grinned at the sight of you blushing—he always did manage to make you do that. 

“Always said you was built like a grown woman, pretty in the face. Real smart, she knew you’ was gon’ be somebody.”

“She’s sweet,” you giggle, “I’m sure she thought I was one of them’ fast tailed girls tryna get your attention.”

“She knew better than that. When did you ever try to get my attention?” He challenged, staring you in the eye. It was a question he’d always had on his mind, but the fact that it finally came from his mouth made the words almost feel tangible.

You think about the question for a moment, beginning to work on the braid closest to the shell of his ear. You pull his head back a bit to start at the root, your scent wafting along his face as you hum, “Mmm, I always thought you were cute. But you know you’re cute, you didn’t need another girl in line to tell you that. I wasn’t tryna’ be a groupie. But you always had a nice voice, and loved the spotlight. It was meant for you.”

He was a grown ass man—nearly nearing thirty, which had passed the age of embarrassment. But you could see the slight tinge on his cheeks, his ears flushing red for a moment before his mouth curved into a grin. 

“You like me, huh?” He raised a brow, looking down into his lap to hide the smile on his face. That’s when he noticed the time on his phone, glancing up into the mirror, “Damn,” he huffed, “I’m bout’ to be here all night wit’ you. You needa’ get faster.”

“If I go faster it’s gonna hurt,” you remind him, looping the hair in your fingers just a tad bit tighter, watching as he grimaced in response.

"Ayo!" He flinched, reaching back to try and pry your fingers off his head. You were quick to let go in response, but it proved your point. 

“You don’t got’ to pull like that…” he groaned.

“You gon’ let me do my job?” You raise an eyebrow, “You’ being irritating. I’m not the one who came over ten at night, Onyankopon. You’ got somewhere to be?”

He smacked his lips again, “I was just sayin’...“ 

In truth, he wasn't trying to leave your place immediately—he wanted to be around you. You always seemed to know exactly where to touch him. That, and your perfume always made his head spin.

"You gon' tell me who you dating, or you got a line of niggas?" He countered, his gaze meeting yours through the mirror.

“Nobody at the moment. I’ve been too busy with work,” you reply shyly, finishing up his first braid with a tight end, moving on to the second patch of hair, “My male clients usually have girlfriends—who want to be on the phone the entire time to watch me,” you chuckle.

“So that means you ain’t gon’ give me no love?” He grinned, reaching a hand behind him to press against your thigh, squeezing it gently. Your entire body shivered at his warm palm along your skin, the hand nearly wrapping against your entire leg. 

"A nigga just want to talk to you, be on you. You be’ all shy and shit," he grumbled, "Maybe I will find another braider for real, yo' ass stay bein' mean to me."

You giggle at his touch, even if it makes you nervous—maybe a little horny. You smacked his hand away, “So you flirt with all the people that work for you? That’s what I’m getting from this.” 

“Nah. Just you,” he replied without missing a beat, a confident smile on his face. “C’mon, say somethin’.”

You didn’t even need to look into the mirror to know he was staring at you—that alone made your insides twist. 

A loud sigh left your lips as you shook your head, “You’re gonna mess around and get yo’ feelings hurt. I’m just doing your hair, Onyankopon. You’ll have thousands of girls to choose from at your show tomorrow.”

“We ain’t talking about them. We talkin’ about you.”

He wanted you to look at him. But he knew you wouldn’t do such a thing until you finished his hair. 

So he relented, pulling out his phone to check his messages—there wasn’t much to see, though. A silence had become between the two of you, comforted by the music playing in the back. His fans had been bombarding his team for the past few days, ever since the news of his new album came out. And, sure, he’d be surrounded by girls tomorrow. But those girls weren’t going to be you.

“You gon’ be at my show since you know about it now, right?”

You were now on the fourth braid, pulling his head back a bit to look at his face. Your eyes narrow, almost having the urge to roll them as you say, “You know I don’t have a ticket, Ony. I’ll watch it after it’s posted.”

He looked up to see the scowl on your face, a laugh escaping his lips, “Don’t even worry about all that. I don’t want you watchin’. I need you there.” 

When you reach out to knock the side of his head, he catches your wrist, bringing it to his lips to plant a sloppy kiss there. Your heart hammered beneath your chest, an unsteady thump resounding through your ribcage.

“You smoked before you got here?” You question, “You’ real touchy—feely today.”

He grinned in reply, “Nah I didn’t, maybe you’ just real fine today. Every day.”

He was laying it on thick. The worst part? That it might’ve been working. You’re now on the final braid, your body unfortunately hot, and a throb between your legs at the sight of him. He was murmuring the music to himself, his deep voice now ringing in your ears.

“You want me to line you up after I’m done braiding, or are you gonna do it yourself? I bought new clippers,” you ask softly, fingers swiftly pulling his hair into a neat bind.

He looked at your reflection, watching as your fingers moved swiftly through his hair. The feeling was pleasant, the sound of your voice even more so. 

“You always do it fine, so yeah,” he murmured. 

The next time you’d reach for his hair, he’d stop you—his hand cupping your wrist to bring it down to his chest. 

“I appreciate you, you know that right?” His voice was low, but you could still hear the sincerity beneath his words. He was staring at you now, his eyes warm.

You blink a bit at his words, and the sincerity makes you smile innocently. 

“I know that,” you nod, “I’m glad you trust me enough to keep coming back.”

His free hand came to cup the side of your cheek, feeling your soft skin beneath his tough palm, "You got some soft skin," he murmured as he stroked your cheek. His thumb lightly brushed your lips, "Pretty lips too, y'know that?"

Your heart is hammering in your chest at this point. He’s fine, full lips moisturized, goatee and facial hair aligned perfectly along his face, jaw structure deadly for him to have his hair braided back. His brown skin was clear—fucking hell. 

You give a nervous laugh as you try to pull yourself back, “…You’ still got one more braid, Ony.”

"You sure you wanna keep going?" He questioned, "You lookin' like you want something else right now."

Your mouth parts a bit at his words, but quickly closes as you try to figure out your reply. You then say, “Yeah, I’m almost finished. I know you’re getting antsy in my chair,” you pull yourself back behind him, quickly maneuvering into finishing off his final braid.

He had to give it to you—you were hard to crack. But that didn’t mean you were good at hiding it. You watch his face become more serious than you’d ever seen, it’s a mixture of something—admiration, lust, need. 

"Yeah, aight. Line my shit up. We gon’ talk.”

You can feel your nerves bundling at the pit of your stomach as you finish off—a tension now palpable in the air. Clippers buzz along his hairline as you lean yourself  close to his chest to get a good angle, your body feeling warm as you’re close to him—you adjust yourself as you softly say, “…Sorry.”

“Nah, you good. Come closer,” is what he says instead, reaching a hand out to grasp your thigh. He grips you gently, but firmly, to get you closer to him. You’re in between his legs now, which he spreads a bit further so you can settle in.

Your hands are trembling. You usually had no issues with this part of your service, but the tension was becoming heavier second by second. You exhale a bit, breathless in your nervous giggle as you confirm, “I’m gonna put some oil on once I’m done—loosen up your braids a bit, okay?”

“Take your time,” he murmurs, voice smooth and low. 

Slowly but surely, he begins to rub his hand back and forth against your thigh. Eventually, it begins to move towards the inside of your thigh, rubbing at the flesh there. You bite your lip, trying to fight back the desire to whimper. 

“You’ quiet now, what’s up with that?”

He’s really getting to you. The simple touch makes your eyes want to roll back. You admit, “Just tryna’ focus while you’re being distracting.”

“I ain’t done nothin’ but rub on you, you’ really that sensitive?”

His lips brush the side of your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck. “How I look, mama?”

You wanna pull back from him, but you’re unable to. You quickly snatch the clippers back as you sit them on the small table beside the chair, giving him a warning look as you caution, “Ony.”

“Why you sayin’ my name like that?” he grunts, fingers gripping the back of your thigh, holding you there. 

“C’mere—Lemme’ taste you.”

You breath hitches at his words, and your mouth is only centimeters from his. Your hand finds its way to the fabric of his shirt, gripping the cotton fiber as your voice is weak, “C’mon, Ony. Stop playing.”

His eyes are hooded at this point, “Who playin’?” 

His mouth captures your bottom lip, slowly dragging it between his teeth. You actually whimper at the feeling, your thighs squeezing together beneath your shorts. Pulling you fully onto his lap, he kisses you, not letting you pull away as he cups the back of your head to keep you there. His tongue is rough inside of your mouth, a satisfying hum heavy against your lips as he makes out with you.

You’re shuddering against his mouth, a frown pulled at your eyebrows at how good his kiss is. It makes your entire body thrum, clutching the material of his shirt even tighter. It’s like you’re having an orgasm—all he’d done was kiss you. 

The heat of his skin, the smell of his cologne is all intoxicating. He’s pulling your head back so that he can kiss your throat. His lips are smooth as he’s sucking the skin—your body feels like jelly. 

Your hand clutches the side of his neck, “W—Wait Ony…mmph,” ” you pant. 

When his mouth comes back down to meet yours, he kisses you deeper, groaning into your mouth. You attempt to keep him in one place, but you know you don't have the strength to keep him from having his way with you.

You gasp softly as he tugs up your baby tee, brown nipples dropping straight into his mouth the moment he drags his tongue out to catch them. Your eyes lock down to the way his mouth moves—it’s effortless. 

You’re latching along his hair, trembling above him as you suck air down your throat, “T—They’re s—sensitive…” he’s lapping your breast into his mouth, your skin becoming hot on his taste buds.

“Got a nigga acting greedy as fuck.” 

He’s almost mad at the sight, sucking harshly and letting your nipples drop out his mouth, milliseconds later catching your entire breast back in between his full lips. The skin is starting to bruise, your legs squeezing against his lap as a deep relaxation comes over you, a warming tingle in your spine.

You were writhing on top of him, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly as he sucked and nibbled on your nipples— you’re trembling, “Oh god... oh fuck..." you’re panting as if you’d run a marathon, biting your lip as you felt yourself growing wetter and wetter between your legs, “Don’t…stop…”

His mouth was almost aggressive at this point, a loud popping sound leaving his lips each time he pulled away. The music within the room is dousing your brain. 

His voice was low and raspy, "You look’ soooo muhfuckin' sexy right now. Take all this shit off. Need you naked as fuck.” 

He reaches down between the both of you, pressing his palm against the front of your shorts, the contact making you whimper as he groans, “Ooh shit, pussy drenching them shorts—I know that shit glistening all pretty. Nasty ass bitch,” The heat continuously develops in between your legs, wetness creating more and more by the second. 

He starts rubbing his hand against you, back and forth, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit. It’s making your head spin, your hips move with his hand, whining softly as he starts kissing you again, lips soft against yours, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth.

Dark brown eyes stare into yours, his expression serious—intense. You jump as he slams his palm down on your ass, grunting, “Up,” your body complying as you stand halfway above him to remove your shorts, allowing your top to quickly follow— you’re now completely naked on his lap.

He’s nothing like you had before. With that, he dips his hands in between your legs to pull you back up in a standing position against the chair, palms locked against the back of your thighs as he scoots himself lower, tugging your body down so quickly that your entire pussy rubs against his jaw. 

A mixture between a deep chuckle and groan comes from his mouth as he’s already running his tongue chaotically against your clit. Your lower lip drops open as you gasp, pressing yourself into his arm to not fall, riding his face within the air.

His mouth was a mess as he grinds you down on his tongue, so deep in between your folds that he’s tasting himself. His tongue was strong, heavy, eyes closed as if your body was a rarity. Onyankopon’s facial hair was coated, dripping against your thighs as he eats you out. He was being lazy with it, almost too comfortable within the chair, hands digging into the back of your thighs as he forced himself deeper, nose pushing against your mound. He was choking on your pussy—but he was enjoying every single bit of it.

“Oh— my g—god!” you pant out, gasping in between, “Ony…ohshi—Ony!…” he’s bouncing you against his face, using his free hand to spank the skin of your ass, flesh shaking in his palm. You’re losing nerves in your brain, dropping your face down as you whimper, “You’ in my pussy, baby…fuck…”

“‘Could tell you ain’t never had a nigga eat you like this—shit a muhfuckin’ delicacy, I’m just slurping this shit the fuck up—fuckin’ love this shit," he said, moaning it, slurping, slurping, his voice was almost like a murmur, "Fuckkk, imma’ have you squirting on this big ass dick."

Onyankopon was growling against your clit, a wet noise coming from his lips as he sucked on you, his mouth covered at this point. His hands were grabbing at your thighs, spreading them apart so he could see your juices rolling down the skin.

There was a rhythm to it—his mouth moved like a metronome as if he were making a song, a steady beat as he eats you out.

He was almost high from the taste, his mouth watering as he lapped up everything you were giving him. His chin was daubed, tongue flicking up to catch a bit of the spit as he was using it to lubricate your pussy, trying to make it easier for his tongue to slide inside. Again, again. 

His tongue is long, rolling around from the bottom of your entrance all the way up to your clit. He's eating you like he loves you, mouth open, tongue sloppy, just groaning,  licking—you’re feeling faint. 

He was making a mess of your pussy. 

Your eyes are rolling at this point, a discomfort beginning to form in your legs from the way you’re hovered above him. But it’s all so good—you’re spinning. Shaking. Trembling. All of the above. 

“Ony….I t—think I’m cumming,” you softly cry, beginning to rotate your hips in a circle along his face as you weakly whine, grasping a hold of his hair as you whimper, “I—I’m c—cumming…”  

“I hear that gushy ass pussy, that bitch singing to me.” 

At that second—you hear yourself gush against his face, squeezing your thighs against his head, body shuddering like a harsh chill had taken a marathon against your spine. You’re robbed of time to come down from the orgasm, Onyankopon pulling you back down to sit along his lap as he grunts, “Come pull this dick out.”

You whimper in response, dipping your fingers into his pants nonetheless. Your acrylics graze against the hefty weight of his tip you feel for—and it’s big. 

You’re pulling, pulling for more than two seconds, watching as it slaps a little over his belly button. Dark pink, a beautiful brown matching his complexion. Your eyes widen a bit, the gasp your throat that wanted to release now caught in his palm as he’s holding you by your neck. 

He tugs you forward, “Spit in my fuckin’ mouth.”

He’s nasty. You pull him into a sloppy kiss, letting your saliva run against the tip of your tongue, meeting with his mouth that makes him glare at you, “Freaky ass lil’ bitch, huh? I’m finna’ do you in witcho’ pretty ass. Come sit on this shit.” 

“Too big, Ony…” you whimpered before you thought about your words, knowing he was already arrogant. 

And you weren’t wrong for thinking that. His mouth twists in amusement against the shell of your ear, hand rubbing along the curve of your ass before smacking it, “You either gon’ bend over so I can watch my dick go in and out this pretty ass pussy, or sit that shit on me.”

Your eyes glance back down—his dick was standing straight up, swollen at the tip, thick veins running across the shaft, and a toned belly for you to grip onto. But you knew he wasn’t repeating himself. 

He murmurs, “Go slow, baby. I got you,” easing your anxiety, moving his hand around to the back of your neck, pulling you into the softest kiss he’d given you this entire time.

You adjusted your hips as you rubbed his tip along your folds throughout the kiss, mouth falling open as you whimpered again, his throat humming, nodding gently for you to continue. Your folds stretch apart as you begin sinking down, keeping yourself kissing him to distract from the immediate discomfort you feel. You pull your mouth back slightly to press your forehead against his, also holding the back of his neck as your breathing becomes chaotic, chest heaving a bit as you whisper, “…Oh my…” you suck in a breath, “goddd…” you drag your words so lowly, and he hears every syllable.

“Yeah?” He grunts, “Why you’ squeezing’ my shit like that?” 

He’s cooing to you. His balls slap lightly against the weight of your ass, hearing the slick of your pussy as he pulls you back up. Onyankopon dips his fingers into your mouth, coating them before he lowers his hand to massage your bruised walls for a millisecond, making it easier to push his dick back in.

He helps ease you back down, fingers rubbing at the back of your hips as he drops you fully down his length. Your eyes clamped shut as you cried out, eyes rolling as you dragged out a whine, “Onyyy…” all while he sucked on the spot between your neck and collarbone, moaning into it to keep you open. 

You pull your face back to meet him, keeping your foreheads connected as he begins raising you halfway up, dragging you back down, dick disappearing between your thighs. Your arousal is splattering in between your skin stuck together, ripping apart each time you’re pulled back up, clapping as you come back down.

“This all you needed, needed this pussy played with. Shit pretty as fuck. Makin’ art on my dick.” 

He was getting used to the rhythm, leaning his head back against the seat to look at you. His hands were planted on the back of your thighs, the muscles rippling as he helped pull you back up before slamming you back down, his mouth open, eyes half-lidded.

He was watching you—The way you were crying out, the way you were cursing him out, the way you were begging for more, and the way you were fighting for breath.

He was watching it all—taking it all in. You were perfect. 

Each time you protested, “Babyyyy,” he tugged you down harder, the pressure rubbing against your pussy, the warmth of it making you shudder. He’s talking, “I hear you, Mama. Fuck, you drenching my shit.” 

His hands were firm against your hips, helping to guide you up and down. He was almost wrestling you, a dominant nature he had coming out the longer he fucked you. Your ass is applauding against his thighs, breasts bouncing, your mouth releasing breathless sounds you’d never heard before. It makes you feel like those final nerves within your brain were no more, wrapping your arms around his neck as you let him take you—pouting as you talk to him, “This your pussy baby…” you whine, softly crying, mewling the words to him. You’re making promises.

“That’s how you feelin’?”

He slides his palm against your asscheek, gripping the skin there as he moves his index finger over your hole, the feeling making you tense. You lean yourself forward a bit as he’s nudging the tip of it into you, using the rest of his fingers to keep you bouncing down. You whimper deeply, the pleasure and pain knocking you every which way as he’s filling you up in both places—he was trying to kill you.

Nonetheless, you keep yapping, “Your fuckin’ pussy, Daddy…gonna come to your show…”

You drag your tongue along his neck, sucking there petulantly as you look down, seeing as you cream on his length, coating the shaft white. You’re so horny, even if he was fucking you at this exact moment.

“No you not. Finna’ be sleep all day after this,” he grunts, “You creamin’ on my shit. Pretty as fuck.”

His hand wraps around the back of your neck to pull you down for another heated kiss, sucking the taste of yourself off your tongue. His other hand held you by the hip, moving you faster, finger thrusting in your hole deeper.

He’s strong—in lost time, he stands from the chair as he places your legs over his shoulders, taking a step forward to place you right along the mirror you used to show your clients their finished hairstyle. He was tugging at your neck, making sure you were locked in his arms as he began dropping you on his dick, making you squeal, a moan spilling from your lips as you whine, "Oh shittttt.” 

“Look at you, fuckin’ bad girl. Yeah, look at me, look at you, look at that shit gushing for me.”

He was pounding you from the bottom, his balls slapping between your folds, your arousal making the sound reverberate through the room. A feeling you never felt before surrounded your aura, a pleasure so good that you felt emotional, your eyes beginning to form tears as you suck in a breath, releasing as you sobbed, “Ugnh, fuck.”

He’s fucking you so hard that the mirror across began steaming up, showing only a faint outline of your body. You flick over to it, seeing the strawberry tresses of your hair sticking to your face, your expression ruined. 

Your mouth was dangerous as you writhed, “Ony,” a way that was close to a shout, talking through each thrust, “Love. This. Dick. Baby…”

His mouth came to yours to stifle the sounds, hand clamped around the back of your neck. His teeth were scraping your lips, his tongue slipping inside to fight yours as he’s pounding you in place, the sensation making you shake.

"You gon' cum? Gonna squirt all over his dick? Pussy gettin’ tight as fuck…damn…” he groans, locking his eyes down to see himself go in and out, in and out, in…and out.

“Gonna squirt all over you,” you sniffle in a small gasp, unaware of your own mouth at this moment, “Harder—please…” 

His mouth was a mess, tongue thick and long, lapping against your neck and collarbone, sucking the skin there, his mouth wide open, slurping the taste of you up. He squeezed your hips so hard that you were crying out. He was slamming himself into you, a groan of pleasure spilling from his lips as he buried his face against your throat, sucking it up as he grunted, “Finna’ have you at every fuckin’ show. Up in the private rooms, gon’ fuck you after every song.”

You’re gone, becoming entirely silent as your eyes are filled with tears that wouldn’t stop, nodding your head to every word as you hold onto him. The silence, listening to the sounds of your skin coming together in music, a sound rips from your throat before you could realize—pure bliss, a scream projecting out as you squirt, the arousal spouting, pushing him far enough for his tip to now be halfway in. Your body feels exhausted, eyes back into staring inside your head as you cum. 

And it broke him, he was moaning into your throat—mouth open, eyes closed, pulling himself out as his tip rubbed against your inner thigh, cumming against the warm skin. Your body was tired, exhausted, satisfied. 

You struggled to keep yourself wrapped along his neck. As the both of you caught your breath, you brought your eyes up to him, using the last bit of strength you had to give him a soft peck against his lips. Onyankopon couldn’t help himself—You looked so pretty at this moment, yet the innocent kiss makes him chuckle lowly, holding you up more as he questions, “You aight’?”

You press your face within his neck as you murmur, “Mhm,” your eyes feeling heavy, “Don’t think imma’ make your show, Ony…” you pout sleepily.

He laughs at how cute you were being—it’s a stark difference from your usual reserved demeanor. 

“It’s straight, baby. You’ll be on my mind the moment I get there—that’s fasho.’” 

He pecks your forehead, “You want me to stay tonight?”

Your eyes won’t open at this point. You could figure out the meaning of this moment later. You just wanted to be wrapped in that damn scent of his—tonka bean.

“If you’ actually plan on sleeping, you can stay…” 

“Damn, no late night nookie?” 

“Onyankopon.”

“My fault. Night, shawty.”

[dumb-ster-fire]

Azriel x fem!reader - Just a dress

Summary: While shopping with Mor, Y/N is asked to model a beautiful wedding dress for a bridal shop in need of a last-minute replacement. She agrees, enjoying the fun of it—until Azriel, her mate, sees her. His shadows tighten, his gaze dark and intense. It’s just a dress… so why does it feel like something deeper?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N glanced at Mor, who was already grinning like she had won the lottery. “Oh, you have to do it,” Mor urged, practically bouncing on her heels.

The shop attendant clasped her hands together. “It’s a simple favor—just try on the dress, walk around a little, and in return, we’ll compensate you.” Her gaze swept over Y/N’s tall, elegant frame. “You’re perfect for it.”

Y/N tilted her head, considering. It did sound fun. And it wasn’t every day she got to play dress-up in a gown fit for royalty.

“Alright,” she said with a smirk. “Let’s do it.”

The attendant beamed and led them inside, where Y/N was soon whisked into a dressing room. The gown was decadent—intricate embroidery shimmering in the light, a full, sweeping skirt, and delicate lace detailing. When they placed the diadem on her head and finished her makeup, she barely recognized herself in the mirror. She looked… ethereal. Regal.

Mor’s gasp as she stepped out confirmed it. “Holy shit, Y/N.” Her eyes widened with something between awe and mischief. “Azriel is going to pass out when he sees you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the little flutter in her stomach at the thought.

She had agreed to walk around the boutique and outside for a bit, letting potential customers see the dress in motion. And of course, Mor was already plotting.

Y/N smirked. “Just don’t let Az see it.”

Mor’s wicked grin only widened. “Oh, no promises.”

Y/N gracefully walked alongside the shop representative as they guided her to the designated path where she’d be showcasing the dress. The streets of Velaris, always lively, now had curious onlookers pausing in their steps as she passed. Some whispered, some openly admired, and more than a few stopped in their tracks entirely.

Mor strolled beside her, looking far too pleased with herself, hands clasped behind her back like she was completely innocent.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, she had already reached out to Rhys through their mind link.

You need to get your asses down here. Now.

Rhys’s response was immediate. What did you do?

Mor barely contained her excitement as she side-eyed Y/N, who was completely unaware of the unfolding scheme. Not what I did. What Y/N did. She’s walking through Velaris in a wedding dress.

There was a moment of stunned silence before multiple voices chimed in at once.

Cassian: YOU’RE JOKING. WE’RE ON OUR WAY.

Rhysand: This I have to see.

Amren: Hah. Poor Azriel.

Azriel: …What?

Mor grinned but kept her expression neutral as she turned to Y/N, who was still elegantly making her way through the street, oblivious to the storm about to descend.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

Y/N, completely unaware of the chaos she’d just unleashed, continued walking with effortless grace, the luxurious wedding gown flowing around her like stardust. The diadem atop her head caught the light, making her look every bit the ethereal, untouchable bride. People on the street kept stopping to watch, whispering amongst themselves. Some even clapped in admiration.

Mor, biting her lip to keep from outright laughing, linked arms with her as they neared the end of the walk. “You know, you look obscenely good in that dress.”

Y/N smirked. “Of course I do.” Then, with mock seriousness, “It’s a shame no one I know is here to see it.”

Mor nearly snorted. If only Y/N knew.

Because right at that moment, Cassian, Rhys, Amren, and—most importantly—Azriel appeared at the edge of the street, blending into the crowd.

Rhys, hands in his pockets, took one look at Y/N and let out a low whistle. Damn.

Cassian, on the other hand, was losing his mind. “OH. MY. GODS.” He practically bounced on his feet. “I knew this was gonna be good, but this—this is better than I ever could have imagined.”

Amren crossed her arms, eyes flicking between Azriel and Y/N with amusement. “He’s going to combust.”

And Azriel—Azriel was frozen.

The moment his eyes landed on Y/N, everything else blurred into insignificance. The gown, the diadem, the way she moved with such natural confidence—it was lethal. She was breathtaking on any given day, but like this? Like this?

It took everything in him to school his expression, to keep himself from storming over, yanking her against him, and demanding when exactly she was planning to tell him she looked like that in a wedding dress.

Mor, watching all of this unfold, casually said through the mind link, Enjoying the view, Az?

His shadows curled tighter around him. You knew about this.

Obviously.

Cassian, watching Azriel’s battle for control, leaned over and whispered, “So, when’s the wedding?”

Azriel shot him a look so sharp it could have gutted a man. Cassian only grinned wider.

And then—Y/N finally noticed them.

Y/N, still blissfully unaware, turned her head slightly, about to make some offhand comment to Mor—when she spotted them.

Her steps faltered for a split second as her pale green eyes locked onto the group of familiar faces. And then—she saw him.

Azriel stood slightly apart from the others, his wings half-flared, shadows coiling around him in a way that told her everything. His expression was unreadable, but the intensity in his hazel eyes burned hotter than the sun.

“Oh, fuck,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

Mor cackled.

Cassian was barely holding in his laughter, whispering something to Rhys, who was just standing there, smug as all hell. Amren, as usual, looked more entertained than anything.

And Azriel?

He stalked toward her.

Y/N straightened automatically, an instinctive reaction to the sheer force of his gaze. As he closed the distance, she could practically feel the possessiveness rolling off him in waves, feel the weight of it in the way his jaw clenched, in the way his shadows swirled around his boots like they, too, were ready to drag her close and never let go.

She tilted her head, offering a smirk despite the sudden racing of her heart. “Well, hello there, shadowsinger.”

Azriel stopped right in front of her, his gaze sweeping over everything—the gown, the diadem, the way the silk hugged her curves just right.

“You didn’t think to mention this?” His voice was low, edged with something dark, something claiming.

Y/N’s smirk widened. “I didn’t think I needed to.”

Azriel let out a slow breath, his wings twitching slightly before he reached out, fingers brushing along the delicate embroidery on her sleeve. His touch was light, reverent—dangerous.

“This,” he murmured, eyes flicking up to hers, “is unfair.”

Y/N hummed, enjoying the heat in his gaze far too much. “Oh? Why’s that?”

Azriel’s lips parted like he was about to answer, but Cassian—because of course he did—ruined the moment.

“So,” the general called, grinning like a madman, “should we just start planning the wedding now or—”

Y/N turned sharply. “Cassian.”

Cassian held up his hands. “I’m just saying! You’re already in the dress—”

“I will fight you.”

“I’d like to see you try in that gown.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, you absolute menace—”

But before she could launch herself at him—before she could even move—Azriel’s hand curled around her wrist, tugging her back toward him, his chest brushing against hers.

“You do look stunning,” he murmured, quiet enough that only she could hear.

Y/N blinked up at him, momentarily thrown off by the softness in his voice, by the intensity in his eyes.

Her breath hitched.

For once, she didn’t have a clever response.

Azriel’s fingers skimmed up her arm, a featherlight touch that sent a shiver through her. His eyes were still locked onto hers, intense, unreadable, drinking her in like she was something rare, something his.

Y/N swallowed. “You—” She cleared her throat, grasping for something smug to say, something to lighten the heat pooling in her stomach. “You keep looking at me like that, and I might think you’re planning something.”

Azriel’s lips barely twitched, his only response a slow, deliberate glance down the length of her. “I’m definitely planning something.”

Mother above.

Mor, meanwhile, was enjoying this way too much. “I have never seen you look so—” she wiggled her fingers dramatically in Azriel’s direction “—feral.”

Azriel didn’t even acknowledge her.

Rhys was still grinning, arms crossed, looking like he was storing this entire moment away for blackmail later. “I have to say, I didn’t expect this today.”

Y/N scoffed. “Neither did I, to be fair.” She gestured to the decadent gown. “It was supposed to be fun, not—” She flicked her eyes back to Azriel, whose expression hadn’t softened in the slightest. “—whatever this is.”

“This,” Azriel echoed, voice quieter now, though no less intense.

Y/N arched a brow. “You don’t like it?”

Azriel huffed a breath, stepping even closer, until she could feel his warmth, until his wings partially wrapped behind her like he was shielding her from everyone. His fingers skimmed the side of her waist, grazing the delicate fabric.

“I love it,” he admitted, so quiet only she could hear. “And I hate that everyone else can see you in it.”

Oh.

Y/N’s breath caught.

Azriel’s lips tilted up slightly. “You knew this would drive me insane.”

She grinned, regaining some of her composure. “Did I?”

His fingers flexed on her waist. “You did.”

Cassian clapped his hands. “Alright, lovebirds, before you two start making out in the middle of the street—”

Y/N threw him a glare, but he only smirked.

Amren, ever the voice of reason, just sighed. “Can we go now?”

Y/N huffed, shooting one last glance at Azriel before stepping back. He let her go—reluctantly—but his shadows still curled around her ankle as if refusing to let her slip too far away.

She smirked. “If you behave, shadowsinger, maybe I’ll wear this just for you later.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened.

Cassian whistled.

Mor lost it.

And as Y/N strode past them, chin held high, she could feel Azriel’s eyes still burning into her, still tracking her every movement, still plotting ways to make her pay for this little tease.

Maybe I should keep the dress.

Y/N felt the weight of Azriel’s gaze long after she had passed him, heat crawling up her spine as she tried—tried—to keep her composure. The gown, the diadem, the makeup… it was all just supposed to be fun, something ridiculous and lighthearted. But now?

Now she was very aware of the fact that she had just paraded down the street looking like a bride, while her mate—her dangerously possessive mate—stood there looking like he was barely restraining himself from throwing her over his shoulder and flying them straight home.

Mor, still at her side, was cackling. “You’re evil for that.”

Y/N grinned. “I know.”

Cassian strolled up beside them, shaking his head. “You do realize you just gave him about a hundred new fantasies, right?”

Y/N snorted. “As if he didn’t already have them.”

Mor hummed. “True, but now? Now it’s personal.”

A shiver trailed down her spine, but before she could hink too much about it, the bridal shop representative rushed over, delighted by all the attention Y/N had drawn. “Oh, this was perfect!” The woman beamed. “You looked exquisite—so poised, so regal. And your mate—Mother above, his reaction was exactly the kind of passion we want associated with our dresses.”

Y/N barely held in a laugh. If only they knew.

The woman clapped her hands. “Would you consider modeling for us again in the future?”

Mor lost it, clutching her stomach as she doubled over in laughter.

Y/N smirked. “I’ll… think about it.”

She could feel Azriel’s shadows still lingering near her, like they refused to let her out of their sight. Good. Let him suffer a bit.

Still, as she walked back to the shop to change, she sent a whisper through the bond.

Did you enjoy the show, shadowsinger?

A pause. Then, a voice like a dark promise.

You’ll pay for that, starlight.

Y/N’s stomach flipped.

Maybe she would keep the dress.

Y/N grinned wickedly as she stepped back into the bridal shop, Mor still laughing beside her. The moment the door shut behind them, she pressed a hand to her chest, her heart hammering as Azriel’s words lingered in her mind. You’ll pay for that, starlight.

Oh, she knew that tone.

And she absolutely planned to drag it out for as long as possible.

“Did you see his face?” Mor wheezed, wiping at her eyes. “Y/N, I swear to the Mother, I have never seen him like that before. He looked like he was this close to starting a public riot.”

Y/N smirked. “I was hoping for a reaction.” She turned, admiring herself in the massive mirror. “Didn’t expect to look this good, though.”

The gown was decadent—pure white with intricate silver embroidery that shimmered under the light. It clung to her curves, cascading in elegant folds, and the diadem in her long hair only added to the illusion of royalty. She looked like she belonged in an ancient, otherworldly court, a queen stepping out of legend.

And Azriel had seen it.

Y/N felt the heat of his gaze even now, the intensity that had burned through the crowd. Her smirk deepened.

Mor nudged her. “You have to keep this dress. I mean, come on. You look like some celestial queen.”

Y/N hummed. “You just want to see Azriel suffer more.”

“Absolutely.” Mor grinned. “And so do you.”

She didn’t even bother denying it.

After a few more minutes, Y/N reluctantly stepped back into the dressing room to change. The moment she pulled the heavy gown off, she exhaled, shaking her head at herself. She had just been playing along with the whole thing, but now, a deeper thought crept in.

Marriage.

She and Azriel hadn’t talked about it, not really. But standing out there, with the entire Inner Circle watching, with him watching, the thought had settled in a way it hadn’t before.

Would she marry him?

The answer struck her as effortlessly as breathing. Of course. She was his, just as he was hers. There was no question about it.

But still, the idea of it—the reality of a ceremony, of wearing a dress like this with intention—sent an unfamiliar feeling curling in her chest.

Excitement.

A little bit of fear.

And a lot of amusement, because she knew Azriel was still reeling.

By the time she stepped out in her normal clothes again, Mor had already sent another message through the bond link. Y/N raised a brow.

Mor just winked. “You’ll see.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but when they finally stepped out of the shop, she did see.

Or rather—she felt it.

Azriel.

Leaning against the wall just outside, shadows curling around his frame, golden skin taut with restrained tension. His hazel eyes—burning—traced over her, head to toe, like he was still seeing her in that gown.

Y/N’s breath caught, but she smirked. “Came to pick me up, shadowsinger?”

His voice was dark silk. “Had to make sure you weren’t planning to run off and get married without me.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, stepping close, just enough to taunt him with her presence. “Now, where’s the fun in that?”

Azriel’s eyes flickered with something dangerous. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear as he murmured,

“You will pay for that, starlight.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped. Again.

Mor stifled a laugh behind them.

Y/N just tilted her chin up, meeting his smoldering gaze with a challenge. “Looking forward to it.”

[pit-and-the-pen]

Please go to sleep.

Summary: your mate forces you to stop working and take some time for yourself.

Wc: 1k (short and sweet)

Written for this request: Hey, Could you do prompt no.94 for Azriel?❤️✨

Also hi, I’m alive. Just getting my butt kicked by a very busy work schedule right now. Sorry this is so short but work is slowing down again so I’ll actually have more time to write. Also I wrote this on my phone.

I sat up at the desk, the words in front of me swimming as I forced my eyes to focus on them. Hands still stained blue from the last pot of ink I had clumsily knocked over with my sleeve. I just had to get this recipe written down. The healing potion that neutralized faebane, the one thing I had been working on for months. I needed to get this test run written down because it was the closest I had been to figuring it out. I knew it was right in my grasp and I could sleep once I was done.

At the thought of sleep, I could feel my eyes growing heavier. My traitorous body demanded I crawl into my soft bed that would smell like my mate. I shook my head again, like I could displace the need. It worked for a second, a deep breath left me as I struggled to recall just how much bittergreen I added to this batch.

The creek of the door had my eyes flickering up slowly before I pulled my focus back to the book in front of me. I fought back a sigh as shadows swirled around my wrists attempting to pull me up.

“You should be in bed, sweetheart.” Azriel’s voice carried from the door.

“I will in a little bit.” Was all I responded with.

“It’s three in the morning. You woke up early to start working and I know you didn’t take a break to eat dinner.” He huffed, his shadows wrapping tighter around my arms to drive home is irritation. A wave of shock went through me at his words. Had I really been at this for that long?

“I didn’t realize…”

“You’re half asleep right now. This will still be here in the morning.” I didn’t hear him walk behind me. His hand ran lightly down my neck and over my shoulders and I couldn’t fight the urge to lean back into him. His hand went to my hair, strong fingers rubbing the tension around my temples. The careful attention made my sleepy eyes burn as I tried to blink them open.

“Az, I need to-“

“No. You need to sleep. I’ll help you with this tomorrow. After you’ve gotten enough sleep.”

I didn’t want to fight with him over this. It was like he could feel his victory. “Plus, you’re not going to be able to read that anyways.” He looked over my head at the book in front of me. I followed his eyes and saw the illegible chicken scratch my handwriting had devolved into. I fought the urge to cry as I noticed the hours of hard work I had wasted.

Azriel held out his hand and with a defeated groan, I took it. When I stood up my legs screamed in protest. Not noticing how heavy my body suddenly was. I tried to take a step and would have collapsed into a pile if it wasn’t for my mates strong arms holding me to him.

He didn’t waste a second in sweeping my body off the floor and into his arms. His shadows swirling around me, clearly concerned for me.

I closed my eyes as I nestled further into his chest. Breathing in his comforting scent as he carried us to our room. I think I fell asleep before he could put me down or maybe I lasted a little longer than that but I barley felt the warm blankets before sleep overtook me for good.

I woke up the next morning burning up. Azriel was fully laid on top of me. Still sound asleep. I wiggled slightly, trying to sneak out from underneath the furnace that was Azriel when he slept. A small huff left his lips as he wrapped and arm around my waist. I waiting for him to wake up but he still seemed to be out for the count. I sighed and decided to close my eyes again. Realizing I had no chance in moving him.

When I woke for the second time, I was noticeably cooler. Azriel was laying across from me, fingers tracing small patterns along my bare stomach. His soft touch immediately making goosebumps rise in their wake.

“Good morning.” He said as I rolled over to face him. I smiled and moved over until my face was against his chest.

“Good morning. Care to tell me why I’m not wearing any night clothes?”

“Well someone wouldn’t let me put them down long enough to get them on. But I had to get your corset off of you at least.” His eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m sure you tried very hard.” He chuckled and continued his earlier patterns along my skin. “Thank you.” I said, moving closer to press a small kiss to his lips.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I know we would both work ourselves to death if the other didn’t stop it.”

“You’re not wrong.” I gave him another, longer, kiss. His hands paused to wrap around my waist.

“I just want to see you happy.”

“And naked.” I finished for him. He shrugged and gave me a boyish smile that made me want to do anything but get up. I kicked my leg free of the thick blanket and wrapped it around his waist.

“Well I know what would make me extremely happy…”

The thought trailed off as he pulled me closer to him. His hands and lips tracing all thoughts of work far away.

[ervotica]

pretty little bird

vampire!azriel x fem!reader – blood, feeding, rhys watches (more on him soon!). approx. 600 words.

Azriel's ears perk at the shuffling of bare feet in the next room, both his and Rhysand's heads turning curiously as you stumble into view, eyes teary.

You're rather akin to a newborn deer, unsteady as you creep on the balls of your feet, shivering and cradling yourself for comfort.

Rhys doesn't think he's ever seen Az soften with such urgency, his steely countenance turning on its head as that first fat tear rolls over the swell of your cheek.

"My angel," he coos. "Come to me, baby."

You seem to hesitate, but you're quickly enticed closer by the roaring fire at the edge of the room, lulled into his arms without much protest at the crackling promise of warmth. Hues of gold and orange split into dappled rays that climb the expanse of Azriel's bare chest, the milky skin stark against the dark of the sitting room. It's an incentive for you to venture closer, a reward for spending your days shrouded in cold and darkness with this creature that calls you mate.

Rhys quirks a brow. "Who's this?"

It's as though those two words have set every fight response Azriel's body possesses alight, his temper flaring; a growl rumbles through him, his grip tightening as he snatches you up to his chest as though somebody will attempt to steal you away. Rhys lifts his hands in surrender.

"She's mine," Azriel snarls, baring honed canines. "Mine."

You go soft, submitting in an attempt to placate the vexation that crawls through his every vein like molten lava. Your head spins, fatigue weighing down your every limb as though they're filled with molasses. He grazes the edge of a fang along your pulse point. Just enough to break the first layer of skin.

He watches the drop of blood well, ooze and drip, settling in the hollow of your throat.

You sniffle, stomach flipping. He knows what you want; he just enjoys the desperation lacing your tone. You need the release of the feed as much as him. "Please."

Onyx strands of hair sweep over his eyes as he dips his head low to flatten his tongue across your throat, humming lowly at the tang of copper that bleeds over his tastebuds. He nudges your jaw with the tip of his nose.

"So polite, little bird," he hums. "Lean on me, baby. Az has you."

You hiccup, pushing closer into his space. A scarred hand brushes the hair from your throat, fangs entirely unsheathing as the tips of his teeth pierce your tender flesh.

You whine and thrash like a wounded prey animal, but you're quickly subdued as his venom seeps into your bloodstream. Euphoria bursts behind your eyelids, skin buzzing with the high that a feeding always brings you.

The other male's voice is muffled as though your ears are wadded with thick cotton. You sigh when Azriel slips his arms beneath your shoulders and hikes you upward with frantic urgency as he takes longer, dragging mouthfuls, squeezing as though the blood will pour from your wounds more rapidly.

"Az, you should stop. You'll kill her if you feed for much longer."

Azriel pulls away just enough to pant and growl, "She's fine."

The twin puncture wounds pulse and gush when Azriel tilts his head to watch his brother, irises entirely engulfed by inky darkness.

Your head drops, limp against his shoulder. Your limbs are flooded with warmth, body heavy like treacle and sated with the venom that twines around your veins like ivy, burrowing beneath your skin. Azriel's tongue flattens against your throat to clot the blood, sealing your seeping punctures.

"Shall we get you to bed, pretty bird?" he coos, mouth tilting upward blissfully. Your nose scrunches and you mouth at the bare skin as his silk shirt falls away from his form.

You're simply too tired to open your eyes, or protest, or even respond.

[grandlinedreams]

|| notes: because I think this trope is always hilarious and also very cute

|| warnings: the Inner Circle (Mor and Cass) being nosy, fluff, Az and reader being silly and cute, alcohol mention

"You've been spending an awful lot of time with Azriel lately."

Looking up from the book you've been reading, you meet Mor's questioning look with one of confusion. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"No," Mor protests, "I was just wondering."

You raise an eyebrow, eyeing her. There's an edge to her tone that you're not sure that you like, as if she's trying to get you to admit to something. "He's my friend," you say slowly, "and I like spending time with my friends."

Mor hums. "That's fair," she says, then drums her fingers on the table. "Speaking of friends, we're friends, right?"

"Of course," you agree. Where is she going with this? Had you done something to make her doubt your friendship?

Mor watches you carefully, weighing her words before she says them. "And you'd tell me if you were interested in anyone, right? Romantically, I mean."

The look you give her is equal parts suspicion and befuddlement. "Probably? Mor, what is this about?"

"Nothing, nothing," she reassures you hurriedly. "Listen, we're going to Rita's tonight. As in me, Cass, Nes, and Azriel." She pauses. "I think he'd like it if you went with us."

You close your book. "I'll go," you say, and Mor beams. "But what does Az wanting me there have to do with—"

"Great!" Mor chirps, pulling away. "We'll be leaving at eight!"

And then she's gone, leaving you more bewildered than you've ever been.

Your friends are up to something. You know that they are, considering Mor's behavior from earlier, and now their (Mor, and now Cassian) insistence that you sit next to Azriel in the booth.

"I can't pick my seat?" You ask, and Cassian shakes his head.

"Nope," he grins, and you throw Nesta a pleading look that she answers with one of quiet amusement.

"Okay..." Not that you truly mind sitting next to the spymaster, but it's made strange for the way Mor and Cassian are watching the two of you and sharing looks you're sure they think are subtle.

"[Name] looks nice," Mor prompts after a while, "right, Az?"

You blink as Azriel turns towards you, and the slow sweep of his eyes over you makes your cheeks warm more than the alcohol does.

"Yes," he says quietly, and your lips quirk when you catch his eye before you turn back towards your drink. Whatever it is that Cassian and Mor are looking for or trying to incite, you're not sure, but you don't miss the look of frustrated confusion the pair share.

Cassian rallies himself for another attempt at whatever it is they're up to, and you cut him off. "I think I'm going to head back," you say, apologetic smile tugging at your lips. "I'm tired."

Mor looks like she's going to protest, only to stop when Azriel moves to follow you when you slip from the booth. "I'll come with you."

You don't protest, but you also catch the pleased look Cassian and Mor share before you step out of Rita's. The night air is a little cooler than expected and when you shiver, Azriel steps closer. "Cold?"

"A little," you admit, and you don't protest the wrap of his arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer.

Once you're far enough away from Rita's, Azriel speaks again. "Cassian is convinced that I have feelings for you."

You look up at him, finding him watching you already, coming to a halt. "And?" You prompt, raising an eyebrow, "do you?"

Azriel's eyes gleam with amusement as he leans down, meeting the answering upward tip of your head so he can kiss you. It's sweet and familiar, and you press to make it linger a little longer before he pulls away. "I think you know the answer to that."

"I do," you grin. "How long do you think it'll take them to realize that we're already together?"

Azriel snorts. "Longer than you think, honestly." He tugs you to him, enveloping you in his arms to ward off the chill of night. "I take it that you have feelings for me too?"

You huff a laugh, pressing a kiss to his chest. "I think you know the answer to that," you answer.

Azriel's lips meet the top of your head. "I do."

[thehighladywrites]

ACOTAR MEN X READER, USING DOE EYES ON THEM

summary: you give them doe eyes in order to persuade them into whatever you want

warnings: nsfw, suggestiveness

amara’s note: i love them holy shit but my fav one this time is eris🥹🥹

Rhysand:

Looks down at you with amusement

He knows what you’re trying to do

“ come on rhyssssss, just one tiny mission. I promise I’ll be super careful, baby”

Unbeknownst to you he agreed the second you asked since he can’t really say no to you

But he loves to see just how desperate you’ll get, how much you’ll beg him.

And paired with those docile eyes? Yeah he’s a goner.

He might seem composed and calm on the outside, but trust me that man is panicking

Rhysand knows he’ll say yes to anything, obey you in every way when you flash him those eyes.

“Okay, but please be careful. If you feel your shoulder hurt again, come home. Abandon the mission and prioritize yourself, do you hear me?”

The moment the words leave his mouth, it hits him like a brick that he agreed to give you a mission when you've barely recovered from an injury.

He never fails to be surprised by your ability to controll him

You words and eyes are powerful indeed…

Azriel:

You’d think he’d have some sort of resistance or something but no

If anything, he folds the quickest of them all

“ Az, could i please-”

“ Yes ”

He doesn’t even let you finish talking, he just looked into your begging eyes and said yes to whatever it is you wanted

There isn’t a thing on this planet that he wouldn’t do for you

But when you pair it with those doe eyes, standing shorter than him as you look up through your lashes with a slight tilt in your head, lips pouting, he gets hard

You look so submissive and innocent, it sparks something primal in him.

“You don’t have to ask me for things, my love, just tell me whatever it is you want and need.”

He’s grabbing you by your waist, pullling you in closer as he kisses you with need.

I’m so serious, this man is down bad

Cassian

He's been working late every day for two weeks, and you've had enough. You miss your mate, and you want him close.

Clad in a slutty little nightgown that screamed ‘give me attention’ , you sauntered into his office

At first, irritation crashes over you like a rogue wave because he isn’t even bothering to lift his head when he greets you. So, you declare it's time for a hands-on approach to spice up the scene.

Rounding his chair, you stand behind him, and with expert hands, you start giving his stiff shoulders a massage. His groans reverberate through the room.

"That feels so good, sweets," his voice is raspy and laced with exhaustion.

Smiling to yourself, your hands travel further down to his chest, where you attempt to unbutton his shirt.

He grabs your wrist, smirking, and drags you so you’re in front of him, raising an eyebrow at your bold move.

Cassian's brain short-circuits as you stand there with big eyes, begging for attention, and then lower yourself to your knees, looking up at him.

“ baby, i missed you so much. Please let me take care of you…”

Stunned, he's left speechless, resorting to a simple nod in response.

Safe to say, you were both pleased and relieved by the end of it all

Lucien:

He isn’t stupid, he KNOWS you use your eyes to get your way

But he literally doesn’t care, he’ll give in to you

He likes watching you work for it though

Standing before him, hands innocently behind your back, you arch your back, pushing your chest out, your eyes widening with a mix of need and desire. Your lips form a seductive pout, silently pleading for him to sweep you away to The Continent.

“is that how you ask for something, my love?”

He's feral, a teasing smile playing on his lips as he watches you, curious to see how far you'll go for a yes.

Little do you know, he's already packed your bags, setting the stage for a surprise journey.

“Please, Luc, I really wanna come with you. Let me convince you.”

You got him WHIPPED, like he’s panicking inside, fucking sweating

“Yeah? How will you convince me?”

Stepping closer to him, you whisper your deprived thoughts, reveling in the way he shudders

Yeah…

You were limping on your trip

Eris:

Eris had never felt so… conflicted in his life

He had never bent over backwards for someone or even let anyone occupy his mind the way you do

The first time you used your eyes to persuade him, he nearly stumbled backward, then attempted to ignore you because he felt weak.

Eris had no idea eyes could be so powerful, and he had a feeling he’d say yes to absolutely everything and anything you wanted

After a few times, he stopped feeling so conflicted and started looking forward to your little manipulation sessions

You had attempted to seduce him all day, but he insisted on working, especially since he had recently ascended to the position of High Lord and had a mountain of paperwork to tackle.

Walking into his office, you strutted around, touching his belongings and casually perusing through the documents on his desk.

Eventually, you got closer to his table and bent over, acting like you needed something.

Eris looked up only to be met with a sight full of your tits. Sighing, he looked up at you with a secret smile,

“I know what you’re doing, sweet thing.”

“ What? Is it a crime to help my mate with his work?”

You look at him with round eyes, your head slightly lowered as your eyes do the talking

His eyes, simmering with desire, traced every curve of your form as a sultry smile played on his lips, creating tension that sizzled with heat.

“Do you remember the last time you gave me those eyes, love?”

Fuck yeah, you do. He had fucked you stupid for hours, in every part of the Forrest House, showing you new levels of pleasure you hadn’t even considered, eyes rolling into the back of your head everytime he pumped into you

Your body shuddered at the memory, body aching for more. Giving him your most desperate, doe-eyed expression, you ask your mate for more

“What if I want it to happen again?”

Giving you a once over with raised brows, his handsome face breaks into a foxy smile as he signals you to come closer

Biting your lips to hide your smile, you oblige, helping him relieve his tension and stress

[redheadspark]

Hi! I'd love Azriel with #1, please

A/N - Aww this is lovely! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Simple Things

Summary - Azriel always took care of you with the simple things in life

Warnings - Fluff

Sneaking into the Townhouse was no easy task, especially during a winter storm that blew through Velaris.

You toed off your shoes as soon as you made it into the entryway, the instant warmth hitting you made you sighing relief but still shiver as the snow was falling heavily tousled.  With snow melting in your hair and behind your neck and your coat plastered to you because of the roaring winds outside, you were relived to be in warmth again.  The walk from your small apartment to the Townhouse was not far, in fact, it was only a 6 minute walk.

But then again, with this snowstorm, it was about 15 minutes.

You were due to meet with your close friends and find family, the Night Court Inner Circle, to have dinner with them.  You loved having those monthly meals with them, mostly to reconnect with them and not talk about politics or any duties for Velaris or Night Court.  Your role in the Inner Circle was that of a healer of sorts, and you had a thriving knowledge of medicine and apothecary for over a century before meeting with the members of the Inner Circle.  First, it was Rhysand, Madja recommending you to be available for the High Lord when she was too busy with her work.  You thought of him as intimidating, a Mysterious High Lord who was beyond powerful and feared by those far and wide.  Yet it was the opposite, gentle in his words and kind in his gestures.  He loved Velaris and Night Court and would do anything for his land and for his people.  He took you under his wing and made you feel welcome in his Inner Circle, asking you plenty of questions about your trade and inquiring more about medicine.  

He introduced you to the others: Mor, Armen, Cassian, and later your mate: Azriel.

Speaking of which.

“Cauldron, what in the hell happened to you?!”

You were immediately bombarded by muscular arms that engulfed you, the body heat slamming into you as you were nearly smushed into a hard chest.  You knew the scent as soon as it hit your nose: Pine, slight citrus, and cologne.  

Your mate, whom was looking down at you and framing your face with concern all over his face.

“It’s just the storm, Az,” Your reassured, reaching up to touch his wrist that were on either side of your jaw.  But your fingers touched his skin, Azriel looking even more shocked from how cold your fingers were on his skin.

“You’re ice, sweetheart,” He hissed, then stripping off your cold coat and the jacket underneath, rubbing your arms, and then taking your fingers within his palms to blow warm air along the skin.  It all happened within seconds, you were in a daze in how he was trying to get you warm within seconds.  But this was his nature, acts of service.  He would always make sure your needs were met before his own, which was both a blessing and a burden at the same time.

Ever since you two met some time ago, you both were drawn to one another like moths to a flame.  You both were friendly for some time before admitting your feelings to one another, a slow burn so to speak according to Nesta.  She was actually the one to nudge you in the right direction when It came to acting on your feelings, you think it would be too bold to say anything to the Shadowsinger.  

Yet Azriel was the one who would sweep you off your feet by kissing you under the stars after professing his love for you.  

You two have been mates for some time, though it took a while to get married officially.  Given the nature of his job at the Spymaster for Night Court and your vigorous task as a Healer, there was never time to plan a wedding.  It only took the Battle of Hybern to have you two finally tie the knot since the notion of either one of you leaving the world without the other would be drastic and catastrophic.  Neither one of you wanted to be apart from the other, and marriage was not your priority.  You both were content on just being mates and not needing a marriage to make you stronger.

That changed after Hybern’s defeat, and you two loved being married.  

“Come on, come get by the fire,” Azriel explained, wrapping an arm around you and walking you over to the parlor where a fireplace was already active, “If I had known you would’ve had to walk from the apartment,”

“Azriel it’s okay,” You tried to reassure again as you sat in front of the fire on the carpet.  Azriel sat with you, making sure your hands were in front of the fire and getting the warmth they needed, “I don’t think any of us were expecting to have the storm come early,”

“Well, Rhysand suggests we stay here for the night,” Azriel explained as he stroked your fingers with his thumbs and kept his gaze on your skin to make sure you were no longer freezing, “I think we should since I’m not going to let you go out there again,”

“Oh, not going to let me?” You asked almost in a tease, seeing his hazel eyes look up at you briefly as you went on, “The last time you tried to tell me what to do, I had you sleep on the couch for two days straight,”

“I hated those two days,” Azriel replied in a snort, you grinning as the concern was slowly wearing off of him and his casual self was evident again.  You laced your fingers together to bring your joined hands to your lips, kissing his hands lovingly as he held onto you with love on his face.  

He was an old soul with a craving for being a romantic, wanting to dote on you with flowers and gifts, taking your hand whenever you both were side by side and simply letting you know how you’ve changed his life.  Cassian called him a softy for caving in with you, but your mate never cared.  He only cared about being happy and making you happy at the same time.

He wasn’t the only one who would use acts of service.  You made sure he would sleep in on his days off, cook him his favorite dinner if his day was rough and intense, and even stay nearby him when he seemed lost in his mind.  He loved having you near him when he needed an anchor of sorts, a hand to hold when he would shake, lips to touch his when he felt lost.

You were there for him through it all, and he was there for you as well.

“I have the guest room ready for us tonight and the next three days.  Hunkering down here is going to be best for us,” Azriel explained as you smiled, the warmth was there in your hands again as well as the rest of your body as Azriel pushed some of your damp hair over your shoulder, “I think you need a good stew to warm you up,”

“You offering to make it?” You asked coyly. Azriel chuckled, now being the one to kiss the back of your hand.

“I can make a decent stew, I have you know,” he joked, “And I don’t count the last time I made us a stew and almost burned our apartment down,”

“Now I wasn’t going to remind you of that,” you hummed, Azriel chuckled and then leaning in to kiss you. He did made you a stew, filling you with warmth and a full belly to help you fall asleep within minutes when your head hit the pillow.  

It was always the simple things with him that made life worthwhile. 

The End

[bookwormjust]

Cookies (established relationship with Azriel, teasing Cassian, chocolate cookies)

It was late afternoon in the House of Wind, and the quiet stillness was a rare luxury after the bustle of the day. You were curled up on the couch, enjoying a book, a plate of your favorite chocolate cookies nestled beside you. You had baked them earlier, savoring the rich scent of chocolate filling the house, and now, with the sunlight streaming through the windows, you planned on indulging in a quiet moment of peace with them.

But, of course, the peace didn’t last long.

The door burst open, and in strode Cassian, his heavy boots echoing off the floor as he made a beeline for you, looking disheveled and—typical of him—famished. His wings were twitching at his sides, and his eyes zeroed in on the cookies immediately, his stomach apparently louder than his common sense.

“*Please* tell me those are for sharing,” he said, flopping onto the couch next to you, giving you the most pitiful, puppy-dog look he could muster.

You smirked, shaking your head as you reached for a cookie, taking a deliberate, slow bite. The rich taste of chocolate and warm cookie melted on your tongue, and Cassian’s face fell in exaggerated horror.

“Don’t even think about it,” you said with a raised eyebrow. “I never share these. *Never*.”

Cassian’s eyes widened, and he let out an over-the-top, dramatically loud groan, flinging his arms out in mock despair. “Come *on*! I’ve just come from training, I’m *starving*! I’m your brother-in-law, your best friend—your *everything*! How could you be so cruel?”

You snorted, refusing to be swayed. Cassian could be persuasive when he wanted to be, but when it came to your favorite chocolate cookies, you had your boundaries, and they were ironclad.

“No way, Cass. These are sacred.”

Cassian huffed, crossing his arms and staring longingly at the plate. “You’re heartless,” he muttered. “*Absolutely* heartless.”

Just then, you heard the familiar soft sound of footsteps, and a shadowy presence entered the room. Azriel appeared in the doorway, his hazel eyes sweeping over the scene with amusement. He must’ve heard Cassian’s dramatic whining all the way down the hall. His shadows curled lazily around him as he took in the sight of you calmly eating your cookies while Cassian all but pouted beside you.

“What’s going on?” Azriel asked, his lips twitching with the hint of a smile as he leaned against the doorframe.

“She’s being *cruel*, Az,” Cassian complained, turning to him with a look of mock betrayal. “Your mate is refusing to share her cookies with me. *Me*! Can you believe it?”

Azriel raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting to you with a soft glint of mischief in his eyes. You could already tell what he was thinking, and you fought back a grin. “Is that so?” he asked, walking closer, his voice low and teasing. “She doesn’t share her cookies?”

“No,” Cassian replied dramatically, throwing his head back against the couch. “And I’m starving. This is the worst day of my life.”

Azriel chuckled softly, his shadows swirling lazily around him as he sat on the edge of the couch beside you. His hand brushed over your shoulder as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “Love, may I have a cookie?”

You shot him a playful glare, knowing exactly what he was doing, but your heart softened instantly. Because, of course, when it came to Azriel, you couldn’t say no. No matter how much you loved your cookies, there was no denying the fact that you’d share everything with him.

Without a word, you picked up one of the cookies from the plate, holding it up to his lips. He smiled softly, his gaze warm and intimate, and took a bite, savoring it with a hum of approval.

Cassian let out a *gasp* of pure betrayal from the other side of the couch. “You’re kidding me! You’ll share with him but not with *me*?”

Azriel just smirked, taking another bite from the cookie you held for him, clearly relishing every second of Cassian’s torment. “She shares everything with me,” he said in that low, velvety voice of his, the teasing tone making your heart flutter. “Isn’t that right, love?”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, nodding as you turned to Cassian with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Sorry, Cass. Azriel’s the exception.”

Cassian groaned again, throwing his hands up in surrender, clearly done with the both of you. “You two are impossible. Absolutely impossible,” he muttered, though there was no real anger behind it.

Azriel leaned in closer, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, murmuring, “You’re the best.”

You smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of his affection wrap around you like a comforting embrace. “Only for you.”

Cassian stood up dramatically, his wings flaring slightly in exaggerated frustration. “I can’t be here for this. I’m going to go find food *elsewhere,*” he declared, already heading toward the door.

Before he left, he turned around one last time, giving you both an overly exaggerated scowl. “Enjoy your cookies. I hope they taste like betrayal.”

You and Azriel both burst into laughter as the door closed behind him, the sound echoing through the room. You turned back to Azriel, still holding the half-eaten cookie, and offered him the last bite.

He took it, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “He’s never going to let this go, you know.”

“I know,” you replied with a grin, “but it was worth it.”

Azriel chuckled, pulling you closer, his hand resting comfortably on your knee as he leaned back against the couch with you. “I’ll take you over cookies any day,” he said softly, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin.

“Good,” you whispered, leaning into him, “because you’re the only one I’ll ever share them with.”

And as you sat there together, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the teasing laughter still lingering in the air, you couldn’t help but feel that there was no better place in the world than right here, sharing your favorite things with the one you loved most.

[crimsonfrostx]

A Road Well Traveled (Azriel X Reader) Part 6

Word Count: 2607 Warnings: general angst/steamy fluff, slow burn Part 5

It was the simple idea of his lips against yours that kept you awake that night. 

And the next. And most definitely the night after that too. A week passes of you avoiding your best friend like the plague. A week of talking to Rhysand, bonding with Feyre as they try to help, working on strengthening your mental shields to the point of a migraine and an impressed High Lord who couldn't slip into the fortress of your mind. On that final day, nursing a headache from the smug violet eyed bastard, you grit your teeth and pad up the stairs to your room, only to pause on the final step. 

Azriel was waiting for you and the moment you spot him, your heart skips a beat. His wings are flared slightly, the shadows around him agitated, dancing between the two of you. He's leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and eyes locked on you. He watches you approach silently, waiting till you step off the stairs and into the hallway, his expression dark.

You inwardly curse, debating if you have the time or the energy to run away, but a shadow curls around your wrists, tugging you closer. You know you're doomed and heave out a tired sigh, moving through the hall with small measured steps. Stopping in front of him, you slowly glance up from under your lashes. "Hey, Az," you greet hesitantly.

Azriel scoffs at your hesitant tone, his gaze boring into you. "Hey? That's all you're going to say?" his questions gruffly, his wings still flared.

You wince and close your eyes. "Can I get into my room please?" You ignore the pointed jab, knowing you deserved that.

He huffs, a bitter sound and his expression hardens. The shadows wrapped around your wrist gently loosen, freeing it from its hold. He pushes off the wall and moves closer to the door, making a sweeping motion for you to go first.

You brush past him carefully, making sure not to touch him for your own sanity. Shrugging out of your jacket, you keep your back facing him, partly so you don't have to look at his face.

Azriel closes the door behind him, leaning his weight against it and crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze darkening on your form as you shed your jacket. He stands there, watching you, waiting for you to turn around.

After a moment of tense silence, you pointedly glance over your shoulder, trying not to wince at the glare he had leveled at the movement. "What do you want, Az?"

His expression remains hard, like granite, his gaze flicking across your features before settling on your eyes. "We need to talk," he starts, his voice firm as he stands there staring at you.

"About?" You move across the room to your window, taking a seat on the small bench built in.

He sighs, his expression still set in firm lines as he watches you sit. "Do we really have to play this game?" he inquires dryly, his gaze flickering over your body before landing on your face.

You shrug, still not meeting his gaze and instead turning to stare out of the window.

He pushes away from the door, his body tensing before he strides over to stand in front of the window, placing his hands on either side of the sill and boxing you in, his expression turning darker. "Look at me," he orders, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

You sigh like this was the most tiring thing in the world, and at the moment, you'd argue that it was. But damn, did you miss your friend. Squaring your shoulders and tensing your jaw, you turn your head and look up at him. He's close enough that you can see the individual specks of gold in his hazel orbs, see the small scar at the corner of his lips, can count the dark lashes that frame his eyes. You soften immediately, warmth, affection and fear all swirling together in chaotic harmony for the male in front of you.

His gaze roams over your face as you finally meet his gaze, his body still tensed and he has to refrain from closing the space between you. He can smell your scent so close to him, the subtle notes of wildflowers and rain and his chest tightens. "You've been avoiding me," he observes quietly, his gaze never leaving your face.

"I have," you admit readily, not looking away despite the urge to.

His expression remains stoic, but his gaze holds an edge of pain to it. "Why?" he questions, his voice hoarse and quiet.

You suck in a small breath, eyes wavering slightly, dipping to his lips, the thought that had been plaguing you for days coming back with a vengeance. "I don't know," you say quietly, your body humming with nervous energy that feels out of place around Azriel.

He narrows his gaze on your face, his eyes watching yours flick down to his lips, his own chest tightening in an unfamiliar way. "Liar," he murmurs, his gaze not wavering even when your eyes snaps back to his.

Your lips quirk up traitorously, your eyes shining with emotion that you try your hardest to keep locked tightly inside, lest he felt it in the air around them. When you realize he won't leave until he gets his answer, the smile fades just as quickly, replaced by worry and guilt. "I... I don't know how to feel around you."

He leans a little closer, his face now only inches away from yours. His gaze is intense in a way that leaves you unable to look away, a strange feeling in your gut. "Don't know how to feel around me," he repeats, his voice coming out in a strangled tone. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Your breath hitches in your throat, your eyes half lidded as you watch him. "It means... I value your friendship too much to mess it all up," you say softly, trailing over the sharp lines of his face, like your words were about to drive him away for good and this was the last time you could truly see him.

Azriel falters a bit at your words, his body leaning forward so that the distance between dwindles to practically nothing. "And how, if I may ask," he murmurs, his voice soft in the near silence in the room, "do you think you will mess it up?"

You feel your heart absolutely shatter and you know there is no lying to him. Not now. Not anymore. Maybe he knew the truth of it all along. The words leave you in an exhale, and you don't breathe after they're out. "By loving you more than I should."

The world stops in that instant, the only sound is the thrum of his heart, pounding relentlessly in his chest, the world falling apart at your words.  Azriel's eyes widen slightly, his breath ragged as he tries to process what you said. He stays frozen, his gaze searching your face, not believing that you have just said the words he had longed to hear for so very long.

You want to flee, his eyes burning into your soul and making you wish you had stayed away a little longer. Though you knew the truth of it now, clear as day. There would never be enough time on this planet to stop loving the male in front of you. He had twisted himself around your heart in shadowy tendrils, claiming you in ways neither had noticed until it was far too late. Your eyes held his, waiting for your existence to implode at whatever his next words to be.

Azriel doesn't speak for what seems like an eternity, his gaze roams over your expression, drinking it all in, the only thought running through his mind is that the female he has pined after for half of his life had just admitted to loving him. The one thing he thought he would never have, was standing right in front of him. He doesn't think before acting, his instincts taking over, and he reaches out a hand to cup your cheek, his skin burning hot and his breathing ragged.

You can't help the slight gasp that leaves you at the sudden contact, his touch sending heat through your body, your eyes fluttering. His thumb brushes over your cheek, a gentle caress, and his gaze flickers to your mouth before returning to your eyes. "Say it again." His voice is a strangled whisper, his body pressing you into the bench, leaving nowhere to escape.

You don't hesitate. You can't, not with him looking at you like you were the very night sky that he stared up at in reverence, like you were freedom in the most delicious of ways. "I love you," the words came out easier the second time and they felt right. The most honest you've ever been to yourself and to another.

Azriel makes a strangled sound, almost like a cross between a groan and a whine, his eyes darkening as your words wash over him. He leans even closer, both of his hands now framing your face, his words coming out in a strangled whisper, "Say it again, please."

You close your eyes, savoring his touch, breathing him in. "I love you, Az." your voice shakes at the intensity of the emotions between them, and you can feel the air shift around you with your power, but you can't bring yourself to care. Now right now.

Azriel makes a guttural sound, and in the next instant, he has pulled you to face him, his arms winding around your waist to pull you completely off the window bench. In a move of pure strength, your thighs are now wrapped around his waist, his body pressed heavily against yours. His hands slide up your thighs, leaving heat in their wake, leaving you to cling to his shoulders to save yourself from falling backward. "Say it again."

When you say it again, a whisper that brushes against his lips, he pulls you impossibly tight against him, his mouth moving against yours in desperation. A soft whine leaves you, your hands tangled into his hair like it was the most natural place in the world. He moves until your back hits the wall, a small gasp giving him access to your mouth, exploring the space with skill and precision that has you moaning softly against him. He rips himself away at the sound, burying his face into your neck, leaving them both breathing hard and ragged.

You feel like the world around you has disappeared, his body the only thing you're aware of. Every point of contact between your body is sending sharp jolts of pleasure, your whole system lighting up like wildfire.

His lips brush over the skin of your neck, light feathery brushes that only have you wanting more, one hand gripping your thigh, keeping you pinned against the wall so you didn't slip. "One more time," he whispers against your skin.

You grip his face, bringing him up to meet his gaze, your expression unguarded and open just for him. "I love you, Azriel."

Azriel groans, his grip on your thighs tightening so hard it would probably leave bruises, his expression almost pained as if he can't believe the words coming out of your mouth. He closes the gap between you, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss, his hands beginning to wonder over your body, setting a fire burning wherever his touch goes.

Your mind goes blank, your world narrowing down to the sensations of his hands roaming over your body, taking in every inch of you. His kiss is fierce and desperate, and he presses you even closer, his hips pinning you to the wall and leaving no space. You can't stop the whimper that leaves you, your own mouth moving with a frenzy, teeth and tongues clashing.

A dizzy wave of heat fills the space between them, making you pull away at the intensity of it. Azriel grunts in disagreement, his eyes snapping open at the distance created, looking like he wanted to argue but stops at the sight of you. He calls your name, worry and wonder in his voice. "Your eyes... they’re glowing," he murmurs softly, his words making your head spin.

"Glowing?" You ask breathlessly, tilting your head in confusion. You suddenly are hyper aware of the overwhelming heat filling the air around the two of you, and how it makes your skin feel like it's about to ignite.

He carefully sets you down, his hands remaining on your shoulders as he guides you to the mirror on the adjacent wall. You feel unsteady at the sight. Azriel was right. Staring back at you in the mirror were glowing white orbs. The air physically shimmered around you, like a curtain of stardust, your power tangible and real to the world.

Azriel stands behind you, his chest pressed to your back, your own power leaving him completely enthralled. His gaze is fixed on your eyes, his hand still resting on your shoulder. He takes a moment to collect himself before he speaks. "That is the most incredible thing I've ever seen," he breathes, and the awe in his voice has you wondering if he means you or your power.

You watch him in the mirror, your body still thrumming with the reminder of his touch. You don't know why you do it, why you know you can force his hand, but you pull at the power in the back of your mind like it was a limb you were born with, weaving it around your best friend and the love of your long life. "Azriel," you call sweetly, eyes never shifting from his face. "How do you feel about me?"

Azriel's eyes flutter, his expression growing dazed as he feels your power wrap around him, making his knees buckle for a brief moment. His breath hitches as he focuses on your question, his breath coming out in a ragged sigh. "You... You are like the air I need to breathe to keep on living," he grits out, his hands gripping your shoulders like a lifeline.

The spell breaks, and you gasp, ripping away from him in horror, your eyes fading into their normal hue as you turn to look at him.

Azriel’s eyes widened as the magic and power that had clouded his mind vanished with your power. The realization of what had just happened hits both of you like a ton of bricks, his expression hardening as he stares at you with shocked eyes. His throat works hard to swallow, your name coming out in a strangled whisper. "You just... controlled me."

Your mouth goes dry, the sudden realization hitting you like a blow to the gut. You watch him carefully, not knowing what to say. Azriel's expression morphs into unreadable, shutting everything down and shuttering like all of his emotions had been replaced by something cold and bitter. It was like watching a fire burn out.

"I didn't... I didn't mean to-" the excuse is on the tip of your tongue, the denial and fear and guilt clogging your throat. "I'm so sorry-"

"Save it." His words are sharp like a blade, and his face is made of stone. All of the passion and softness from before has disappeared in the blink of an eye and your chest tightens at the sight.

You turn and do the only thing you know how to do. You run.

Tag list:

@rcarbo1 @zanaorian @tiffany-xx @goofygoeber @annamariereads16 @suppppp97 @chaosabroad @dallynjennasgirl @iluvyewman-blog @buttermilktea11 @starsidesigh @i-am-infinite @plants-w0rld

[acourtofquietdreamers]

All of this focus on Azriel’s horny feelings for Elain, but can we please talk about how Elain completely led her moment with Az in the bonus chapter?

Elain closed the distance, and her breathing quickened as she again paused, now a scant foot away.

Azriel let his shadows whisk away the box as she said softly, "Put it on me?"

His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck.

Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine. Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.

"I should go," Elain said, but made no move to leave.

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Elain shuddered, drifting closer. So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest.

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut.

Offer and permission.

Girlie went for what she wants and Azriel, ever the gentleman, read her cues perfectly and only took what she offered. I love a couple built with respect and mutual attraction, there’s truly nothing hotter.

[makethemhoesmad]

thank you mommy- a.f.

@iminlovewithpaigebueckers and i writing duos to push the mommy azzi agenda

—

“princess, you’ve actually been working on whatever the fuck this is for houurrss” azzi whines from my bed. she’s referring to the studying i’ve been doing, which she is absolutely pissed about. 

“sorry baby, you can go to bed if you want?” i’m gonna be up for quite a while still, and there’s no point keeping her awake too.

“no,” she crosses her arms and pouts, “i don’wanna go to sleep without you princess” 

i roll my eyes and turn back to my computer. i really can’t afford to lose time, even if it’s with azzi. i’m so engrossed in the material i’m reading i don’t notice azzis gotten up and moved under my desk until i feel her warm hands separate my thighs. 

“mm, az, whatcha doin?” i whimper out. i’m only wearing a t-shirt, her t-shirt.

“shh, ignore me pretty. since all you wanna do is study, go ahead”

i try to turn back to my material, but my mind is anywhere but biology when i feel azzis tongue on my clit through my panties. the words blur in front of me as her fingers come up and pull my panties off. her tongue immediately sweeps between my folds, making me wriggle.

“ah, azzi, i can’t focus when you’re uh- doing that”

she doesn’t answer besides letting out a guttural groan that vibrates my core. i cry out, feeling something in my stomach give out. as im about to question her, beg, do something, i feel two of her long fingers stretch me open. i move my hand down to grab the back of her head, and she grabs it and puts it back onto the desk. i grumble in protest.

“a second ago you were gonna make me sleep on my own because you were studying. did that change because i made you cum? is that what i’m good for” as she spits those words out, her fingers hit a spot and im coming again. she stuffs her fingers into my mouth, and i lick them clean eagerly.

“okay, slut, listen. you’ve ignored me all fucking day to study, and now that i get so desperate for you i have to take matters into my own hands, then you decide you want me? do you want to go back to your work, or do you wanna make mommy proud?”

i try to stand up, but azzi presses her hands firmly against my thighs to prevent me. 

“i want you to tell me which one you want, alright?”

i shift in my chair, trying to hide how turned on i am. she takes her fingers out of my mouth, letting me speak freely.

“i wanna make you proud mommy, please.”

she grins, taking her hands away from me and dropping her pants, showing that she’s wearing nothing under them. 

“okay pretty, i want you sitting naked on the bed in thirty seconds, or you’ll be making love to those papers for the next week.”

she disappears into my closet, giving me limited time to rip off my shirt and lean against the pillows on my bed. azzi comes out, having discarded her top and slipped on something i know well, her strap.

“well, don’t you look pretty, mommy’s little slut all ready for me.” she sits on the edge of the bed and pulls me towards her, lifting me onto her lap, right on the strap.

“so good for me, warming my cock and looking so fuckable for me princess” i whine at her words, leaning my face into her shoulder and taking mouthful, while rotating my hips over her. she moves her hands from where they were sitting, on my waist, to cup my tits. she keeps her hand around one, and brings the other to her lips. just as she closes them around it, she jumps her hips up. i cry out, feeling a knot form in my stomach. she releases my nipple and pushes me down onto her, causing moans to fall from my lips. i come for the third thing tonight and fall against azzi, exhausted.

“good fucking girl, riding my cock like it’s fucking yours” 

i grunt against her, pressing my face into her neck as a sign that id like to go to sleep. she pulls me off of her lap, causing me to groan at the emptiness inside of me. she slips off her strap, walking it to the bathroom for us to clean in the morning. 

“okay princess, one more thing”

i groan, not sure i can take anything more,when she slowly slots our legs together as she pushes me down. I can feel our wetness pressing against each other as her hips grind her onto me. the pleasure that washes through my body is euphoric and entirely overstimulating. i can barely keep my eyes open as they grow heavy with the need for sleep and the overstimulation combating the need for her to never, ever stop. Her hands hold me down at the waist as she rides my clit with no mercy. my body quickly begins to spasm as i reach another orgasm. “baby i need you to wait for me” she whines at the pressure of our grinding clits brings her closed. Tears brim in my eyes as I hold on desperately. It takes her a few more moments to reach her finish. “Be a good girl and cum for mommy like the perfect little slut you are.” As those words leave her lips, i falll apart. While my body shakes and my breathing finally starts to slow down, i feel hers start to do that same.

the bed was made earlier, so she moves us right under the blankets. azzi tucks her arms around me and puts her face against my stomach. the feel of her hot breath on me starts to lull me to sleep, along with a dull aching between my legs.

“thank you mommy,” i whisper, running a hand through azzis hair.

“you’re so welcome, my princess.

[imaginesmai]

I love you - Azriel

Maybe I got carried away, maybe this is not my best work. But I needed to write this and here it is! Let me know if you like it, and if you have any idea for requests!

Plot: after the worst possible outcome after one of your missions, Azriel comes back to you, trying to fix what was broken.

Azriel hesitated to even go home for the night. Part of him wondered if it would be a better idea to sleep it off at Mor’s, maybe crash with Cassian and Nesta. Even risk getting an infection and go to the soldiers’ barricade to wait until sunrise.

Then, he would be sure that you’re off to work again. He was beaten, bruised and bloody, and through normally the blood wasn’t mostly his, that time it was coming from gashes everywhere around his torso.

He looked once more at the faint light in your shared room, at your form reading in the divan with your feet tucked under your legs. The sight was enough to ease the pain of the week, to make up his mind about finally going home.

After a week in the Illyrian camps, he thought he deserved it.

“Damn it”

As soon as he put a foot inside your apartment, he heard you curse, throw the book to the ground and rush to the entrance. Azriel didn’t have time to do anything but close the door behind him before you appeared.

In your nightgown, with no socks on and messy hair, you looked like a heavenly sight. Azriel gave you a small smile, the first he had muttered in a week. But not as full or confident as the ones he gave you a months ago.

“Az” you whined. “Please, tell me that’s not your blood”

“Sorry. Would have crashed at the Wind House, but –“

“Damn it, Az!”

You weren’t angry at him, he knew. Anger was your way of showing concern, frustration, and the rest of pent-up emotions you had felt during the last two months. Usually, when he came home battered and hurt, you were besides him, leaning against his side and sharing stories about the battle. Usually, you would return to a cold house and warm it together, after long missions together.

But that was not your reality anymore.

Azriel watched you walk from the bedroom’s door to him, still not steady on your feet. It made him want to go back to the camp kill them all again slower, crueler. He waited until you were besides him. It only took him a few days to understand you needed your space, that you needed to learn how to move once more.

How to live without the extra weight of your wings behind you, now only horrible, scarred skin on your back.

“How bad is it?” you asked your hands on his shoulders. Maybe it was for his comfort, or for your support. You just started undoing the straps on his shoulders, that held together the protection vest.

“They got a few good hits, but I’m fine. Just need a bath to clean them before they heal” he whispered, his voice rough. “Wanna join me?”

 “Where are they?”

You ignored his invitation, just as you had ignored the last twenty times he had proposed anything to do with you naked. As you unfastened his vest, belt and jacket, Azriel stared at you.

It felt weirdly nice to see you so focused and worried, trying to find the hidden wounds on his body. Even though he felt the pain and soreness in every inch of his body, it was a nice change from your usual demeanor.

Azriel looked away from you to the fire that was still burning, to the half-eaten dinner on the table. It was his home, had been for the last century. And still, he felt himself looking at it through stranger’s eyes.

“This one is pretty deep” you muttered, brushing your fingers against a gash on his collarbone that finished close to his armpit. “And it’s caked in mud”

“They didn’t sweep the floor before I arrived, can you believe it?”

Without your brain’s permission, you snorted a laugh. Azriel’s body went tense under your arms, and for a moment, you feared having hurt him. Only, when you looked at him, there was only surprise and shock on his tired eyes.

You pressed your lips together, almost regretting the sudden outburst. It had been strange for you too, as if there was someone else laughing from inside your body. Someone that you had been before, but now was lost.

“I guess you need a bath”

Going back to your previous task, Azriel couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. The pain and tiredness had evaporated, and now he could only repeat in his head that snort. It hadn’t been feminine, hadn’t been lovely. Still, if you were really a heavenly sight, then that was the sound of heaven’s bells.

He fell into a trance and only woke up when you patted his naked chest. You had left his underwear on, but the rest of his clothes were on the ground, now stained with blood and dirt. After a century of being a mated couple, you were more than comfortable around each other’s bodies.

You should have been around yours, but Azriel had yet to see the scars on your back.

The week of the events were blurry on his mind, foggy in a haze of panic, terror and rage. Azriel remembered feeling a shattering pain through the bond while you were visiting Illyrian camps, then Rhys winnowing him and Cassian through multiple locations until they found you. Almost five hours later, when nothing could be done.

The picture of you lying in a pool of blood, naked from the waist up and tied to a pole was printed into his memory. Azriel remembered himself crying, sobbing, screaming and begging as they took you back to the house, your attackers nowhere in sight. Remembered Madja with tears in her eyes telling them that it hadn’t been a normal clipping, that it would take you long to recover.

He could only remember the open wounds on your back, muscle and bone sticking out, only your Fae inheritance keeping you alive. Azriel had yet to see how it looked now.

“You should take that bath now, before they start healing” you said, taking a step away from him. “See if we should call Madja”

“There’s no need. I’ll be fine in the morning”

The fire crackling was the only sound in the apartment as you two stared at each other. He had been the one gone for a week, yet the bags under your eyes rivaled his. Azriel was lost without you, and navigated blind the new situation you had been forced to adapt to.

In the past was now the anger, the rage and protectiveness. He had tried to find your attackers everywhere, but they had vanished. He had found their friends, people who had witnessed the carnage and cheered on them. They all lay dead, forgotten, in the mountains, where their bodies and souls would find no rest.

And while he was sure he would find those responsible of the attack and make them pay, now you two had to adapt.

During the past month, you had often refused his presence more than what it was necessary. He kind of expected for you to go back to bed, and find you in the farthest side of it when he came back.

However, you didn’t move.

“They should have swept the floors” you started. “You’ve got dirt all over your hair”

“You already know us Illyrian males are brutes” Azriel smiled again, this time wider. He extended his arms slowly, not fully believing you were there and not about to bolt away. “Come with me to the bath”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea”

“Darling, please.”

Silver lines appeared under your eyes, and your breath started to speed up. In the last months, Azriel had watched you cry and scream, sob in his shoulder until you had fallen asleep, and his own tears had mixed with your own.

“Let’s have a bath together. I’ll let you scorch me with hot water and I won’t complain about the shampoo. And then I’ll cook something and eat together.”

“Az…”

“Please, Y/N”

Before it happened, before you were so brutalized by them, you used to bath together. A tube big enough to fit both of your wings, where you could lay against his back and kiss him until you were all wrinkled.

More than anything else, Azriel missed that. Part of it was his fault for spending so much time outside your house, haunting down the animals that hurt you. He wouldn’t rest until they met their death by his hand, and if the information he had gathered during the week was correct, it would happen sooner than later.

Ready for your rejection, he wasn’t expecting the small nod nor the silent steps you took until your head was resting on the crook of his shoulder. It wasn’t the first time you had hug, yet it was the first time you had hugged him. Azriel didn’t hesitate for long, and wrapped his bandaged arms around your middle, bringing you closer to him.

Without your wings, you were easier to hug than before. There would be no more wings’ brushing or tangling, but he held you as tight as he used to.

“I love you” you whispered, sucking a breath to keep you from breaking down once more. “I love you”

“I love you too, more than anything” he answered back.

The blood and grime were staining your nightgown, but you didn’t complain as he quietly picked you up and led you to the bathroom.

Between the wings and the grief, you had lost much weight. It made it easier to climb up his torso and nestle on his chest, your legs wrapped around his waist. Although any other time it would lead to other type of activities, Azriel only held you tight and got the water running.

Through the nightgown, where he was holding your waist, he could feel the end of your scars. Where your wings had ended, where they had ripped them. Azriel felt the rough edges of the scar, still swollen and probably sore, so he tried to be gentle.

The male ignored his own pains and aches as he prepared the bath like he used to. Even if he had shared more tears lately than during his whole life, he couldn’t help the knot on his throat as he held you close with one arm.

Your warmth, your smell, felt familiar. Like home. The bond had been nothing but pain and sorrow, but as he carried you around the bathroom, he soaked in the comfort you emanated through it.

“It’s ready” he said eventually, when the tub was full. Slowly, he let you touch the ground, though his hand found your cheek. “Do you want me to turn around?”

“No” you didn’t break eye contact. “It’s okay”

His left hand managed to touch any part of your skin while you took the nightgown off, letting it fall to the ground. Azriel kept his hand steady, but his eyes traveled quickly across every inch of your skin. From your shoulders to your ribs, from the scars he already knew to the new ones in your knees and wrists.

You turned around to get in the bathtub, and Azriel felt his power roaring inside him, screaming at him to let go. Destroy something, anything. Destroy the world for being such a cruel place and letting it happen to you, destroy everyone until you were the only one standing, safe and sound.

It took him all his willpower to stay still as he watched where your wings were. The place he had teased so often, with the pads of his fingers as you squirmed under him. Now, there were two long, wide and irregular scars. The new skin had tried to regenerate the space between the wounds, and it was all pink and wrong.

Azriel would never say it out loud, but the scared boy inside him begged for running away. For ignoring the problems, the pain, and pretend for a little longer it was all just like before.

But he forces himself to watch them, to watch you as you winced when the hot water covered the scars. As soon as you were inside, he dropped his underwear and got besides you.

“Why are you standing so far away?” he opened his arms for you to get closer, but you only stared at him. “Y/N. Come here”

“They’re really ugly, Az” you almost cut him off. It was the first time you ever talked about the scars. “And – I try not to, notice them. But they’re rough and maybe it feels wrong against your chest”

“They won’t feel wrong”

“Maybe they do. Maybe you can’t stand the feeling and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable”

“Without you here, I am uncomfortable”

Azriel didn’t let you argue further, taking your arm and dragging you where you belonged – between his open legs, your back against his chest, his head on your neck. The skin there was soft and warm, nothing like the feeling of your back against his chest. Your scarred, rough back, that had him swallow a breath.

His arms circle your body close to him, lips on your shoulder. Your wings had been much smaller than his, so in the past you had used that position many times. He already missed the accidental bumps against your wings when you moved them, the additional warmth.

“I love you” he repeated for what it felt like the thousand time.

“And I – “

“No, let me finish. I love you, darling. With or without wings, and what those monsters did doesn’t change the fact that this, right here, is my home. With you. Always” his arm, that was wrapped around your middle, brought you closer to him. “I love your toes, and how you scrunch them when you excited. And your knees and legs, when you wrap them around me and I feel”

Being so close to you made him feel complete again. As if he had lost a part of himself with your wings and had finally found it again. There were no sounds beside your breathing, no lights but the moon and the candles. Nothing else but you in his arms.

Testing the waters, he pressed his lips higher, where you neck and shoulder met. They were chapped, rough, but you leaned back and let him free access. If you let him, he knew, he would kiss every inch of your body before the sun came up.

“I love your thighs so much, and your hips. If I could, I would physically attach my arm around them and never let you go” he continued. “I love your belly so, so much. How sensitive it is and how ticklish”

You scoffed and shifted when Azriel ran his fingers through your lower belly, but didn’t move away. If anything, you ended up closer to him. He closed his eyes, breathed your scent, and left another kiss higher in your neck.

“And I could spend hours talking about how much I love your breasts. But behind them, I love your heart more than anything, Y/N. How compassionate, and brave, and caring you are. Y/N, nothing, and I mean nothing, will make me love you less”

“I feel so, so embarrassed” you confessed suddenly. One of your hands was holding his, and you squeezed. “I had gotten so far with them. They… I survived adolescence, I thought I was safe. And I was trained! I was supposed to –“

“You were supposed to nothing. What happened wasn’t your fault more than mine for not being there sooner” Azriel cut you off.

It was silent for a moment, where Azriel didn’t move from your neck. Once he felt like he wouldn’t snap the world in two if he moved, he turned your head with his free hand so he could look at you.

Once more, there were tears on your eyes. Tired, frustrated tears. But also so much love and trust in him that made him dizzy.

“What happened, doesn’t change your value as a warrior, as a person. As my mate” he looked between your lips and eyes, willing to repeat it as many times as you wanted. “It doesn’t change how much I love you, darling. How much I’m ready to give up for you only to make you see yourself the way I do”

Azriel held his breath for a second, waiting for you to say something. Either to keep the conversation, to step out of the tub or to turn your head away. It was the longest talk you two had had until now.

What he didn’t expect was for you to move forward until your lips met his. They were just as he remembered – as watching Starfall or witnessing a wish come true. They fit perfectly with his own, noses brushing each other while he trapped your upper lip between his own.

The first tear rolled down his cheek before he could control it, and he moved you two around so you were more comfortable. Your scent changed, gone the bitter taste of fear and replaced by sweetness of your love that he had grown used to.

“I love you” you repeated against hips lips, not moving away. “I love you”

“More than anything, darling” he answered back before linking your lips together one more time.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

[leviosally]

WIP Thursday Oops Wednesday

Thank you for the tag @gaiaseyes451 sorry I'm woefully late!!

I am working on a short, angst-free meet-cute for the Art of Yelling server's Sweet and Spicy Spring event!

Crowley is an artist taking a couple of classes as he tries to get out of a rut, revisit what he loves best, and bolster his career as a freelancer. Aziraphale works as a librarian not far from St. Lucius' School of Fine Art. When Aziraphale's neighbor, Anathema asks if he would be interested in a little side-gig as the life model for her Intermediate Figure Drawing class, he agrees. That's not about to awaken things in anyone, right? . . .

“You will learn to apply the knowledge you gain here in creating convincing, expressive, and dynamic figure drawings.” Sweeping around the edge of the desk, Anathema turns on a small space heater, aiming it toward a circular raised platform at the centre of the room. “Historically, anatomical knowledge of the human figure has been a key element in the traditional techniques used in European painting and drawing. It is an essential field that remains relevant and is used by animators and illustrators working all over the world today. This course runs for five weeks, at the end of which—barring any outstanding truancy—you will receive a certificate of completion.” Grabbing a large white sheet off a shelf stuffed full of clean folded linens, she shakes it out and drapes it over an orange suede post-modern-looking backless chaise crowded with squashy throw pillows and memory foam squares. “At this time, I ask that you stow all mobile phones until we break for lunch to protect our model’s privacy. Any questions before we begin?”

A contented sort of silence and a few shaking of heads comes in answer as Anathema switches on an old stereo that looks like something out of a nineties music video and inserts a CD. A moment later, some gentle classical music drifts from the speakers.

Crowley takes a deep breath as his pulse ticks up, feeling a sudden surge of anticipation (and caffeine) as he compulsively straightens his charcoals, smudge stumps and various drawing pencils in their little tray.

“We’re ready for you if you are, Az,” Anathema calls softly to their gentleman model behind the privacy screen.

You’re a professional, this is an art class, you’re a professional, this is an art class, you’re a prof—fffffnnngk.

Crowley nearly snaps a more delicate piece of charcoal in two as their model steps out, wrapped in a white silk dressing gown that drapes and hugs the man’s lush curves in a very justifiably distracting way. And, despite Crowley’s threat to himself to at least maintain the illusion of a calm, collected professional, he is definitely staring a little (okay, a lot). Lucky, really, that staring at this man for the next three hours is literally the assignment.

“Good morning, everyone. My name is Aziraphale, but you may call me Az if that’s easier. I have predetermined a variety of poses for this class today including options in standing, seated and recumbent positions. I am perfectly comfortable with questions relevant to fine art and figure study during our time together, so please do speak freely while you are working. Lastly, while I shall do my best to give both sides of the class an equal opportunity perspective-wise, do tell me if you need a little more time with any specific angle.”

Crowley, who had been inwardly waxing poetic about the sultry little spray of pale blond curls framed by the deep vee of Aziraphale’s dressing gown, feels his brain skip like a needle on a record as the creamy silk fabric slithers off his shoulders.

Unfortunate, randy, dry spell-fueled thoughts aside, there’s no word to describe Aziraphale’s body other than beautiful. It’s like looking at a closeup of an angel taken straight from the Sistine Chapel ceiling…ethereal, pastoral, captivating. Plush, cherubic curves that hint at indulgence belie an impressive musculature. (Yeah, Crowley’s biased. He loves big, powerful thighs, and he’s absolutely an arse guy, through and through. But in his defense, he’s pretty sure someone with a backside like fucking Atlas is probably commanding most of the room’s attention right now.) But there are also the tells of Aziraphale’s lived years as well; a dusting of freckles and moles on his back and shoulders, tan lines at his elbows, fine threads of wrinkles like little seams running under his arms and over his belly, a scar just under his clavicle and another on his arm—a story or two preserved in the pale puckered skin.

Aziraphale gives them all a friendly smile—Crowley thinks he can just detect a bit of nervousness flashing in his eyes, but it’s there and gone in an instant—as he makes his way up to the raised platform. Fic starts posting tomorrow! Eee! Also, if you see this, consider yourself tagged!!

[shadowriel]

Filthy Sweet Beginnings

Pairing: Elain x Azriel x Cassian

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Drawn in by the shadowsinger’s bedroom voice, Cassian stumbles upon Azriel and Elain having sex. The rest is simple: Cassian joins.

Read here on AO3

Or read a snippet below:

*Warning for NSFW content - please check the tags on AO3 for more details on what this fic includes

Azriel must realize that Cassian’s here, watching him. He only tenses for a moment before trailing his scarred hands over the female’s soft skin. His fingers flex when he reaches her ass, squeezing as he angles her to deepen each thrust, pounding into her until her hands clutch at the back of the lounge chair she’s bent over.

“Gods, Az, ” she moans. The sound is breathy, muffled further as she presses her face against the fabric of the chair. Her hair is mussed, Cassian notices, her golden curls scattered around her until Azriel sweeps it back and tightens it around a fist. He uses his hold to shift her attention, to tilt her head until widened brown eyes land on Cassian.

Surprise leaves him stumbling back, until his shoulder hits the doorframe with a low thud.

His mind is reeling, yet she stares at him. With her flushed cheeks. And her full lips that part ever so slightly. And those fucking familiar doe eyes that never leave him.

It’s takes a moment for Cassian to piece together that she hasn’t stopped.

Unexpectedly, Elain thrusts back against Azriel—with more intensity than before—as she stares over her shoulder at another male. At him. Cassian, who’s cock twitches against his trousers at the sight of the two people fucking before him. Even from the distance, the interwoven scent of their arousal is enough to threaten the buckling of his knees. Yet, he holds firm against the doorframe until he forces a teasing smile to his lips.

Only then does he move further into the room.

“What do we have here?” he asks simply. Each word is a taunt, yet both Elain and Azriel tremble as if his question were a caress. It’s enough of an invitation that he allows his fingers to find the laces of his trousers, to draw them open and free his straining cock.

“We’re…” Elain begins, but her throat must go dry at the sight of him. Her mouth falls completely open. Her eyes glaze over as he fists himself—slow and purposefully. Circling the chair creaking beneath the weight of the two fae, he moves until he’s inches away from Elain’s face.

Up close, he can see the silvered edges to her eyes, can see the lashes fanning over her cheeks as she blinks up at him. With a rough movement, Azriel pulls on her hair until her back arches and her head tilts up just a bit more, exposing her throat. Her breasts thrust outward at the same time. The fullness of them is the perfect handful, Cassian notes; her pink nipples beg for his tongue.

But he has other plans, even as Azriel continues to fuck her.

“What have you gotten yourself into, Elain?” Cassian clicks his tongue, mock chastising.

“I…” She tries for words. “Az, he—”

“Do your sisters know you’re here, whoring yourself out to the shadowsinger?” His eyes dart up to Azriel and narrow before they shift back to her. “That you’re not getting muddied in a garden, but becoming absolutely filthy in Azriel’s office?”

“They… They don’t.”

“So you’ve been sneaking around?” When he slides his palm over his cock, Elain’s gaze tries to dip down, but Azriel’s hold on her hair keeps her still. “Hoping you wouldn’t get caught?”

Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips. She doesn't say a word, but a low whine escapes her.

“Or did you want someone to find you?” Cassian hums thoughtfully, dragging a thumb over the head of his dick. “Did you fuck Az where anyone can stumble upon you because you weren’t satisfied with just him?”

“I can satisfy her perfectly fine,” Az huffs, picking up his ceaseless onslaught between Elain’s legs.

“Oh, I’m sure.” The corners of Cassian’s lips curve upwards, his grin becoming genuine—less restrained. “I’m simply beginning to get the impression that our Elain would like it better if she were getting fucked by more than one dick.”

His thumb passes over his cock again, coming away wet.

“Isn’t that right, Lainy?” he asks. Yet, he already knows her response. He sees it in the way she blinks up at him, the way she seems torn between thrusting back against Azriel and shifting closer to him. Cassian puts her out of her misery—at least a bit—as he steps imperceptibly closer, raising his hand and the bead of precum that glistens against his skin. He gets his answer when he smears the wetness against her bottom lip, when her tongue arcs in a slow glide and tastes him.

But he needs her to say it.

[grandlinedreams]

|| smthing cute for Monday! [AS!Reader Masterlist]

|| warnings: fluff, reader being adorable, Az being a good dad and mate, technically all three kids are in this

Azriel wakes to an empty bed. His shadows tell him that you're gone first, whispers tumbling over each other as he reaches out to feel the space you usually occupy. It's still faintly warm, your scent still fresh — you haven't been out of bed long.

Getting up, his first instinct is to check on Aria, to see if you're with your daughter. You'd been adamant as of late about giving her extra attention, worried that the slow shift in focus to her pending status as an older sister would upset her.

Aria is fast asleep in her bed, unaware of her father's presence as his gaze sweeps over her, taking in the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest, deep in dreamland. Safe and sound — and you aren't here.

Azriel frowns, worry growing, until a shadow informs him that you're downstairs. He lingers long enough to press a soft kiss to Aria's temple before he turns, intent on making sure that you're okay.

He isn't sure what to expect, but the sight of you leaning over a bowl of peaches to catch the juice that drips from your fingers is not in his wheelhouse. You look up as he approaches, and you give him a sheepish, apologetic look. "I really wanted peaches."

Relieved that you aren't in distress, Azriel moves to your side, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I see."

"Want one?" You offer a slice that he takes, lips parted and eyes locked on yours, pleased to incite the glimmer of heat in your gaze before he pulls away to chew the soft fruit. "I'll come back to bed once I'm done, I promise."

"It's okay," Azriel soothes, though he crouches so that he's eye-level with the rounded swell of your stomach. "I think these two need to be more considerate of your sleep schedule, though."

"Good luck telling them that," you mumble, humming as he reaches out to span his fingers over your belly, rubbing gently. It's quiet for a moment before you suck in a soft breath that makes Azriel tense — and then still at the fluttering movement beneath his fingers. "That was a kick," you tell him, attention now on your stomach as well.

Azriel shifts his hand, looking up at you as there's another kick that moves to follow his hand. Your eyes lock, your lips quirking into a soft smile that has him leaning up, hand still on your stomach as he kisses you.

Later, when you're back in bed and tucked rightfully against him, Azriel allows himself to savor the feeling of his unborn children moving against his hand, and the taste of peaches on his tongue.

[starfall-spirit]

Read on Ao3 // Chapter I

Summary: Elain doesn't need a pack bond to be satisfied as an omega. She's perfectly content being mated to Azriel alone and their solo bond had never been a problem. That is until Elain's heat cycle arrives ahead of schedule and her alpha is half way around the world with no way home.

Luckily for them, their very good friend and roommate, Lucien, is willing to step in until Azriel can get home to help her.

AN: I was hoping this would be longer and better quality, but I’ve been a little stuck. Sorry guys. Anywhoville, hope you still enjoy it! 💕

Chapter II

Lucien

”How's she doing?"

Lucien smiled, putting his phone on speaker so he could continue working on breakfast. It had been two days since Elain's heat had kicked in unexpectedly and he wasn't afraid to admit he was enjoying every moment of it. "She's fine, Az. Still sleeping at the moment. I'm just working on breakfast."

"She's been eating enough?"

"Not nearly, but that's going to stop today. She'll be fine, Az. What are we looking at when it comes to flights?"

Lucien heard his friend sigh on the other side of the line. "If all goes to plan I'll be home tomorrow night."

He nodded. "She'll be excited. You want to talk to her?"

"Not if she's resting. She'll need it to get through the next wave of her heat, I'm sure. I need to start getting ready anyways."

"Right. Good luck, man."

"Make sure she eats someth—" Lucien had already ended the call, rolling his eyes.

"He doesn't think you're incompetent. He just worries.”

Lucien turned, waving Elain into the kitchen space, unable to resist sweeping his gaze down the bare skin her skimpy robe failed to cover. She was still flushed, pupils dilated. Another glance and she leaned into the counter, her slick-damp thighs pressed tightly together. “How are you feeling, little one?” he asked out of courtesy.

”A little tired. Achy again. I’m okay.”

She pressed in close, her blush creeping down her chest even as she nuzzled into his scent gland. “Careful, sweetheart. Stove’s hot. Everything’s almost ready. Once you’ve eaten we’ll see if we can help that ache again.”

”Breakfast later,” she pouted, one hand slipping under his shirt. He ground his teeth, trying to think of anything but fucking her into her newly repaired nest as she nibbled over the spot she’d previously had her nose buried in.

Taking a deep breath, he eased her off of his chest, nearly flinching at the wounded look it put in those soft brown eyes. “You need to eat, Elain. I’m not letting you go hungry through your heat.”

“I’m not hungry,” she huffed. “I don’t need food, I need you to knot me.”

His lips twitched. Brat. And how quickly her tune had changed on that front. One sharp look had her biting her tongue, shuffling over to the table when he gave her rear a soft swat. “If you want me to knot you anytime soon,” he began, plating breakfast for them both, “you’ll eat.”

She frowned again, eyeing the plate he set in front of her even as her stomach growled. “Eat, little dove.”

“Yes, Alpha,” she mocked, cutting into a sausage link.

He chuckled, but didn’t say a word, simply watching to make sure she kept eating. The poor thing was squirming in her seat by the time she cleaned her plate. “Good girl.”

”Lucien, please.” Pushing back his chair, he curled a finger in summons. Elain hurried over, perching on his lap and tucking back into his neck. “Please.”

”Such lovely manners, little one. They might just make up for all that backtalk a moment ago.” She huffed against his collar and he reached around to squeeze her hip in reprimand. “Hm, petulant, aren’t you? Tell me,” he purred. “Does Azriel let you get away with talking to him like that? Or would he put you over his knee for trying to make eating such a low priority?”

She whimpered, going stiff in his lap even as he watched her drop one shaky hand between her legs. “Ah, ah.”

“Lucien.”

He turned her in his lap. Leaning back into his chest, she was small enough to fit her head beneath his chin, riling the sort of protective instinct he couldn’t afford to entertain. He rolled his neck, trying to steady himself with the scent of her heat back in full force. Ignore the slick already soaking through her thin robe and onto his sweats. “Perhaps, sweet girl,” he murmured, “we can keep your secret this once. See what we can do to fix our problem here.”

”Wait, I-”

“Elain.” She shivered, neck bared to him the moment his teeth grazed her earlobe. “Spread your legs.”

~~~~~

Azriel

The scent of her heat hit him the moment he stepped into the apartment. He knew Lucien had been taking care of her, of course. But it didn’t change the fact he was concerned about the situation as her mate. He was just shrugging out of his hoodie when he heard a muffled moan from the bedroom he shared with Elain.

He couldn’t help but smirk at that, dropping the rest of his things in a heap before aiming to join them. “Having fun, I see.”

Elain was a panting mess, eyes glazed over, her nest half ruined beneath her. As for Lucien…

Just as he’d told Elain, a pack bond had always appealed to him. Who better to complete it than their friend and roommate?

”We are,” Lucien growled, not bothering to withdraw the two fingers buried to the knuckle.

”Az,” Elain whimpered.

”How you doing, angel?” He kicked off his shoes, sinking into the nest and hunching over her to stroke her tangled hair back.

“Want you,” she begged.

”Me?” he asked, lips grazing her brow. “Or both of us?” Lucien went still, starting to pull back from where he was braced over her, hand drenched in slick by then. “Don’t,” Az told him. “Keep going.” He needed an honest answer, inhibitions down. Devious as it sounded, she was more likely to be honest about her feelings when she was riding out her heat than trying to clear her head enough to find an answer that sounded polished and loyal.

”B-both,” she squeaked. “Both of you.” Her hips jolted when Lucien twisted his wrist so he was able to stimulate her clit with his thumb. A broken, desperate sound left her before she called for Az again. He leaned down to kiss her, his hand wrapping around her throat. “Please,” she whined against his mouth.

“Sweet, needy omega,” he purred. Elain swallowed hard beneath his palm. “All wound up again.”

“Been like this from the start,” Lucien told him. “Insatiable.”

He clicked his tongue, loosening his grip and letting himself map the freckled skin exposed to them both. “Poor little thing. Just need kept full, is that it? I think that can be fixed easily enough. Can’t it, Lucien?”

Smirking slightly, Lucien withdrew his hand, muffling Elain’s soft pleading by pushing those two fingers down over her tongue. Always one to please, she suckled there as long as he let her, licking his fingers clean. “Good girl,” he praised. Keeping one braced by her head, he lined up against her, easing in slow and steady. “Good girl.”

There was nothing Az wanted more than to be inside his mate right then, but this would be the nail in the coffin. Elain needed to see there was truly room for all of them here.

So he watched. Waited. Sat back, pleased to see Lucien was confident in his handling of their omega, even with ties unestablished. She detonated, trembling from head to toe as Lucien worked her through the aftershocks. Sniffled when Az told him to take her again. To fill her up how she needed.

Az stepped out of the nest just long enough to strip his clothes before coming to the top of the bed and bending down to kiss her, fingers rubbing soothing circles wherever he could to ease her distress. She was already overstimulated.

“Easy,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead before starting to tease her breasts. “You’re doing so well, angel.”

He slid his fingers through hers, pressing down on her belly. “Oh, God.”

“How does it feel,” he asked, “to have Lucien fuck you while I hold you in my arms?” Lucien smirked, dipping his head to graze his teeth across her scent gland, right beneath the place Az had already marked her.

There was an unspoken agreement that everything would need to be further negotiated when Elain was in a clear state of mind. Planting the roots now was as far as they could go without breaking her trust. Marking was too big a step to address with her head so clouded, considering all that had changed in the past few days.

Soft little pants met his ears and he didn’t bother trying to hide his groan of pleasure—nor the raw need coursing through him the moment he watched Lucien knot his mate. She cried out, scrabbling to secure a grip on something solid. “That’s my girl,” Az praised the next time she came down, Lucien easing out of her with a deep groan of his own. “That’s it. My sweet little mate. Back with me?” he asked when her breathing had leveled again.

Elain nodded, her sweat-slick brow flush against his chest. “Missed you,” she mumbled.

“I know, angel. I hated being away, even knowing you were in such good hands.” She withdrew, chewing at her lip. The moment of truth, then. “Elain?”

She dropped her eyes, a dark blush that had nothing to do with her heat staining her pale face. “I’ve… enjoyed it.” He coughed sharply, unwilling to laugh when Elain still felt so vulnerable in her confession. “I just felt I should at least be honest—”

“Elain, angel, you haven’t done anything wrong. You were given a solution to the problem you found yourself in.” He could feel Lucien staring him down with every word, but Elain deserved his full attention when it came to this. “You’re allowed to change your mind, you know. I won’t push anything you’re against. Neither will Lucien. But I won’t let you see any shame in it either.”

“This would be okay, then?”

He smiled. “It would be perfect.”

~~~~~

Elain

“I told you.”

Elain smiled, sharing a glance with her brother in-law who was already shaking his head at Feyre’s smug tone. There were many ways Feyre had grown up before Elain and Nesta, but at the end of the day she wasn’t entirely free of the common allegations against youngest siblings.

“I’m not discussing it, Feyre,” she said, bending to check the twin loaves she was baking for the five of them to share that evening.

“I’m sure what you’re after is the last thing your mate cares to hear about at the moment.”

Rhys smirked again, but was smart enough to pretend his focus was entirely on feeding his son and not the antics Feyre had started. “Elain,” her sister said, the lack of teasing in her tone making Elain pause. “You’re happier for it, aren’t you? It isn’t just about Az bringing up pack bonds?”

Elain smiled once more, resting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s all I want and more.”

~~~~~

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