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safetypinxtales · 2 months

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400 years | Azriel

summary: drinking with your best friend takes a turn when you happen upon some of Feyre's art supplies.

words: 3.2k

warnings: steamy 18+ mdni, nudity, sex is insinuated but not described, kissing, alcohol consumption (drink responsibly), reader and azriel are drunk, making out, big dick azriel, fluff, no use of y/n, neutrally described reader/no reader description

notes: happy valentines day, here's some azriel for youuu🤍 I got the inspiration for this whilst reading this fic by @solbaby7 bc who wouldn't want to draw az like one of your French girls?? Frankly there is nothing I would like to do more. Their fic is amazing and you guys should totally check it out if you haven't already! Anyways, I'm sorry for the "shut the door" type ending, but I cannot write smut to save my life so this will have to do. Hope you enjoy!🤍

masterlist

Thud.

The sound of Azriel accidentally smacking his head on the wall as he plopped down on the sofa across from you echoed within the walls of the cabin, and you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of you. Azriel’s own shaking shoulders and scrunched up nose let you know that he couldn’t help it either.

But that was to be expected wasn’t it? The past hour had been filled with nothing but bubbling laughter from the both of you, giggles from Az, and some very graceful snorts… also definitely from Azriel.

The reason why he had brought you to Rhys’ cabin in the mountains was long forgotten after the two nearly empty bottles of alcohol on the table in front of you. The heartache of getting stood up on your date earlier that evening buried under a considerable amount of drinks.

“As long as the glass is never empty in between refills, they don’t count.”

Azriel’s words from earlier came back to you, only fuelling your cramp inducing giggles.

That had always been your motto in times like these. A consistency that had lasted centuries.

“I can’t breathe,” you wheezed out in between fits of hysteria, your arms coming up to wrap around yourself. But your laughter didn’t die down, and neither did Azriel’s. Your uttered words only seemed to fire him on as he tipped over on his side, hand landing a slap on the armrest.

Seeing him like this, so free and relaxed, was rare. You could probably count each separate occasion on your hands. He only really let go like this when you needed it. When the urge to drink your walls down and flush the pain away seemed like the only remedy to whatever situation you were dealing with.

It was a very rare occurrence indeed. But one of your favourites.

Azriel’s carefree giggles, that luminous light in his eyes; you swore it could make budding flowers bloom.

You sat up straight, and the situation stopped feeling so funny as you laid eyes on Azriel’s still laughing frame. The uncontrolled giggles, and the way his wings shook in time with his chest. It was enchanting, the sight of your best friend being so relaxed, so happy.

The shadows that were usually crowding his frame were nowhere to be seen – with the exception of the lone swirl of darkness slowly snaking its way around your wrist, coming down to entwine with your fingers every now and again.

It took a couple more minutes until Azriel’s laughter had finally seized. You both sat on separate sofas, smiles stretched wide and eyes glazed over from the alcohol you had ingested, and as your breathing started to return to normal a thought struck.

“What?” Azirel asked as he leaned forward on his elbows, a curious glint in his eyes.

“What?” You prodded back, more confused than curious, blinking a few times to try and rid the alcohol-induced veil that surrounded you. What was he on about?

“Well,” he waved one floppy hand in your direction, “you just perked up, it was like you grew ten inches,” he exclaimed, before continuing in a slightly lowered, bemused voice, ”and that means you just had one of your ideas.”

The corners of your mouth quirked upwards as you slowly nodded your head. He was right – you had come up with an idea.

“Well, I was just thinking about how Feyre mentioned after the last time she was here,” you stood up from your seat, swaying slightly but quickly finding your balance, doing your very best to not bump into the table separating you. “Something about forgotten art supplies.”

Like a predator sighting a prey, Azriel’s interest piqued in a moment. His razor sharp focus was on your every step as you walked towards the supply closet at the other side of the room.

The closet was unusually dusty, a strange thing for being Rhysand’s property. He was usually very meticulous when it came to things always being spotless and presentable. But you supposed that a small, rarely used supply closet in the family cabin wasn’t a priority of his. Keeping it clean was not a good enough use of his magic.

Luckily for you, that just made your quest easier. You just had to look for whatever was covered in the least amount of dust bunnies.

“Aha!” You whipped around to face your friend, triumphantly displaying the sketch pad and charcoals in your hands.

Azriel’s eyebrows shot up at your revelation, grin still present on his beautiful face.

“That’s your big idea? Drawing?”

“You should know I used to be quite the whiz with the charcoals when I was younger,” you rebutted and Azriel’s eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly.

“I have seen your penmanship, so I will believe this talent of yours when I see it,” he muttered and you couldn’t help but gasp at the sheer audacity in his words. Your penmanship was not that bad.

Taking a few steps back in his direction with a huff, you flipped through the sketch pad in search of an unused sheet of parchment. You were gonna show him, alright…

You couldn’t help but admire Feyre’s old sketches as you went through the pages. Some you recognised as early-version sketches of paintings you had seen around the river house, and some were–

“Oh!” Your fingers froze as your eyes landed on what seemed to be an anatomical study. A very detailed, very beautiful, anatomical study of – oh my Gods. You felt your cheeks heat up.

“Is that Rhysand?!”

At the screech in your voice and the mention of his brother’s name, Azriel shot up off the sofa to get a peek at whatever had managed to pull such a reaction from you.

The warmth of his body radiated into your side as he peered over your shoulder at the drawing of the very naked high lord.

You noticed him stiffening out of the corner of your eyes and then, like a tether snapping, laughter started to boom inside the walls of the cabin. With a steadying hand on your shoulder he doubled over in giggles so contagious it didn’t take long before you joined in with his hysterics.

“No way,” he wheezed, “oh Gods – I can’t wait to tell Cassian!”

The mere thought of how Cassian would react to such a revelation, the look on his face, had you clutching your stomach. Poor Rhys would never hear the end of it.

And by the cauldron, if you don’t wake up with rippling abs tomorrow from the amount of laughter this night had brought….

“You can’t blame her though,” you mused once you managed to get your giggles under control, “I mean, nice job Feyre.” A low whistle left you as you peered down at your clearly blessed high lord.

The laughter quieted down beside you and you raised your gaze to look at Azriel, only to be met with an incredulous look.

“What, I’m just calling it as I see it!” You exclaimed and raised your hands in defence, charcoals and disrobed Rhysand still in your grasp.

His eyes flicked down to the sketch pad, before slowly coming back up to meet yours, that look never leaving his face.

“Oh, please.”

The words fell from his lips with such cool confidence your smile faltered momentarily, eyebrows knotting together.

“You can’t be serious?” He asked, and when you stayed quiet he continued, “that’s nothing.”

Nothing?

From where you were standing, respectfully, it looked like everything.

“What? Like you can do better?”

Your challenge seemed to light a spark in his eyes and time slowed as he took a step backwards, fingers coming down to grip the hem of his t-shirt.

One swift movement and his shirt was off, muscles rippling under his bronzed skin as he tossed the dark fabric on the floor, his eyes not once straying from yours.

He kept backing up, step after torturous step, until his legs hit the sofa. The corners of his mouth tugged up in a smirk as he plopped down, arms behind his head, far leg propped up, large wings casually draped over the armrest.

“Draw me then, whiz,” he challenged, using your word from earlier, “let me be your muse.”

The heat crawling up your neck, scorching the tips of your ears, were not solely from the liquor as you padded over to the opposite sofa.

No, it was from something very different. Something strikingly sobering, yet oh-so intoxicating.

You sat down and carefully placed the pad in your lap, flipping through it until you reached a blank page. You moved some hair out of your eyes and tucked it behind your ear, picked up a charcoal and brought it to the parchment – when you felt yourself hesitate. You took your lip between your teeth as you contemplated your next move. The risk. The absurdity. The excitement.

He was your friend. Your best friend, and yet…

You lifted your gaze to find Azriel’s eyes locked to yours with such focus, such challenge. Like he was sizing up an opponent on the battlefield.

His eyes flicked down to your hand, if only for a split second, as you gently put down the charcoal. He cocked an eyebrow when his gaze once again found yours.

“I just,” you took a deep breath, “I just don’t think it’s really fair on Rhys, you know?” The shadow around your wrist flickered, as if sensing what you were about to do. The lines you were about to cross.

You watched as Azriel’s eyebrows drew together, and you fought the twitching of your lips as you continued, “I mean, you are still half clothed.”

With a slight shrug of your shoulders, you watched as your words sank in. How his eyes seemed to darken, the corner of his mouth raised in the smallest of smirks.

“Is that so?” He mused, and you tried your best to level his stare. To not back down. Not shy away.

With an incline of your head, you nodded. And watched his hand inch closer to his pants. Down past that dark trail of hair, to the laces tied together at the waistband. Watched as he grabbed a hold of the string… and pulled.

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t focus on anything other than his hand. How his fingers untied the font of his pants so slowly, so delicately it felt like torture. You were transfixed by his fingers. Loosening the laces, his thumb slipping beneath the waistband…

You snapped your gaze up to his face, to find him still looking at you – studying you.

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sound of his pants hitting the floor. With your eyes still locked to his, your heartbeat pounding in your ears, you wondered what you had gotten yourself into. Here you were, in front of your fully naked best friend – about to draw him.

Let me be your muse.

His words from earlier echoed in your mind as you tore your gaze from his face and dragged it lower, and lower, until…

Your head emptied. Your tongue felt about as dry as the beaches you had visited in Summer last year. Because the sight that beheld you was breath-taking.

The length between his legs, standing aroused and proud, really did make Rhysand’s portrait look like nothing.

A part of you had almost hoped that Azriel’s confidence had just been for show. That it was just his competitiveness shining through, a feat to best his brother.

The reality?

Monstruos would have been a fitting word had the sight not compelled you so. Had it not caused you to burn for him. Crave him.

Delicious seemed to be a better word to describe your friend. Beautiful. Mouth-watering. A thing of art.

Which is why you picked up your discarded charcoal and put it to the parchment.

You studied the planes of his body, the hard lines, the soft skin. The muscles that could have been carved by the Mother herself. You avoided looking at his face though, instead focusing on the various scars that marred his skin, telling stories of battles and fights. Of brawls with his brothers.

You felt him looking at you, however. He hadn’t stopped looking at you. Not since the sketch pad came into play.

It made it annoyingly hard to focus.

The scratching sound of charcoal on paper stopped.

“How long have we known each other?” Your voice wavered, mouth dry. You cleared your throat and raised your gaze to finally meet his.

Azriel tipped his head to the side, contemplating, “about 400 years.”

400 years. And never before had you seen him naked. Not like this. Not splayed out like a feast, waiting to be devoured. Not with his gaze so burning you were afraid it was going to singe your clothes to ashes.

“Right,” you mumbled, eyes flicking back down to your hands. They were smudged with soot, your thumb and index finger blackened, that lone shadow still curiously snaking around your wrist.

That is a very long time.

Azriel seemed to notice how the little confidence you had faltered, for he straightened somewhat from his leisurely sprawl.

“You okay?” There was only soft concern enveloping his words, a drastic change from the tension flooding the space between you just seconds before.

It was a very long time, indeed. So why didn’t this feel wrong?

You let out a deep breath, “yes, I think so.”

Your answer apparently didn’t settle his worries though, because he raised from the sofa and rounded the table between you.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him as he stopped in front of where you sat.

Only when he lowered his hand – fingers coming to rest under your chin, tipping you face up – did you meet his eye.

The heartbreaking concern written all over his face seized your heart. The soft furrow of his brow. The slight dip at the corners of his pouty lips. The brutal softness swimming in those hazel eyes.

It took your breath away.

“Are you sure?” He questioned, voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t trust your voice, not with the vulnerable proximity between you. All you managed was a meager nod. A small up and down bob of your head.

His fingers tugged on your chin, and as if in a trance, you followed the wordless command and rose to your feet.

“I need you to use your words here, sweetheart,” his voice was soft, but the underlying command was undeniable, “please.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you swallowed and managed to breathe out “I’m okay.”

That seemed enough to ease Azriel’s concern, a breath of relief fanning across your face.

“Good,” he murmured, almost as if more to himself.

His eyes left yours, and flicked down. To your mouth, you realised, as his thumb moved from your chin up to graze your bottom lip.

That intensity was back in his gaze, that predatory focus – all directed at you. His thumb pulled at your lip before letting go, and the shudder that overtook your body could have made the earth shake.

There couldn’t be more than a foot of space between you.

So dangerously close.

He was your friend.

Right?

“400 years,” you whispered, eyes flicking down to follow the bob of his throat as he swallowed. “400 years of friendship.”

You felt light headed. 400 years, and all could be thrown away as easy as breathing. All you had to do was take half a step.

“Three,” Azriel’s voice grumbled above you as your eyes trailed down to inspect the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

“Hmm?” Your mumble was absent minded, your thoughts being too preoccupied by the male in front of you. What he would feel like. Taste like. The sounds he would make if you dipped your head and licked up the drops of sweat beading at the center of his chest.

“That’s how long I’ve loved you. Three hundred years.”

You froze.

The thickness coating Azriel’s voice was not something you were familiar with. Nor were the words he uttered.

Your gaze snapped up to his, scanning his features for any sign that he was, for some reason, making the cruellest joke in all of Pythian’s history. But all you found was open, unguarded truth.

Azriel loved you?

Azriel loved you.

The rapid beating of your heart was a stark contrast to just how very safe you felt. How right it seemed to take that half step forward. To cradle his face in your hand, the other coming to rest on that glorious chest – right over his own heart. And as you felt that wild drumming beneath his ribs echo your own, nothing seemed as easy as rising up on the tips of your toes and slotting your mouth against his.

The kiss was tentative, like the two of you were just dipping your toes in – testing the waters. You moved your lips against his, gently, savouring the feel of his pillowy lips. The feel of his body so close to yours. How the scent of him seemed to envelop you. You savoured how easily he took all of your senses hostage.

He was everywhere.

The sound of Azriel’s wings rustling behind him, the rapid beating of his heart in his chest, the taste of liquor on his lips – it intoxicated you in a way you didn’t know was possible.

You stayed like that, gently exploring each other's lips, savouring each other's closeness, until you had no other choice but to break away for air.

You pulled away only a few inches, rapid breaths fanning your faces. The pounding of your heart didn’t seize, and neither did his. You could feel every rapid beat under the hand still planted on his warm chest.

“Your heart is beating very fast,” you whispered, voice shaky from your breathlessness.

He swallowed, “It is.”

“So is mine,” you revealed.

“Yes, I can hear it.”

Oh.

“Will you kiss me again?” Your voice was so low, you wouldn’t have known he heard you if not for the strangled sound he let out.

Or for how he grabbed you by your waist and captured your lips with his.

This time the kiss was less gentle. This time he pressed your body against his as he devoured you. It was all tongues, and teeth, and needy gasps.

His teeth pulled on your bottom lip and you thanked the Mother he was holding you so tightly, for your knees almost gave out. A throaty groan escaped you as his hand cupped the back of your neck, angling your head upwards and deepening the kiss further.

Your own hands found his hair – and pulled. The deep rumbling in his chest and the way he moaned your name into the kiss was your undoing.

This kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t tentative.

It was claiming.

And so you let him claim you.

Your clothes were quickly discarded as you laid down on the sofa, Azriel’s body on top of yours. And as you crashed together, entangled limbs and sworn promises, you let those 400 years of friendship, of tension, of longing dictate the start of this new chapter.

A chapter of what would hopefully be 400 years of something more.

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tags: @missus-shadowsinger

#acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fluff #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine

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writingsbychlo · 1 year

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gossip | azriel

summary; feyre has her first visit to the night court and cassian just has to tell his best friends all of the gossip, even if it means interrupting their morning plans...

word count; 2951

notes; honesty, this was just a cute little mindless idea I had. no relevance or anything, honestly. dedicated to @azsazz.

It was unusual that you were the first to rise in the mornings. Azriel’s shadows tended to wake him several times during the night, whether he wanted them to or not, with little alerts and updates, which only became more frequent in the mornings. This morning, however, was one of those rare times you were. One of the few times when the halls in the House of Wind were quiet, the street and roads at the bottom of the mountain silent, barely even a breeze blowing from outside or a bird chirping.

Many times, your love had woken you with kisses and sweet words, rising you with the rays of the sun and sleepy smiles that threatened to shine even brighter, so it only felt fair to return that favour now. With one arm still slung over your waist, wings slumped happily behind him across the ridiculous expanse of the comfy, luxurious mattress, Azriel was a slight to behold. With tousled hair, lips forming a sweet pout, hardly visible freckles glowing in the morning sun and long lashes that fluttered with his dreams, he was like artwork.

You only wished you were skilled enough to paint this, or knew somebody who could capture the image for you. Instead, it would live only in your memories.

Leaning close enough to press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose, it scrunched, twitching lightly in his sleep when you repeated the action, before moving to the cheek that wasn’t pressed into the pillows. A soft kiss right in the centre, one on his cheekbone under his eye, another over his brow. More kisses, several to follow across his forehead as he began to stir, up to his hairline as that pout became a soft smile.

The sheets rustled around you both as he stretched, legs that had been tangled with yours flexing out to their full length, the hand that had been sitting idly over your body now pressing warm and flat to your lower back. He let out a grunt, a garbled sound that you were sure was supposed to resemble a ‘good morning’ of some kind, to gravelly and deep to make out. As your lips pressed again to his closed lids, his cheekbone, the bridge of his nose and the tip, his hand from your back began a languid trail up your body and over your shoulder.

As your lips met his warm cheek once again, long and calloused fingers pinched your jaw on either side, a strong grip, to tug your chin down until his lips met your own. The moment your mouths brushed, a soft sigh was leaving your lips, spilling across his own as his lashes now tickled your cheeks when he pressed in. Lazy and slow and sweet, his mouth moved over your own in deliberate strokes, his tongue sweeping an unhurried lick along the seam of your mouth. Another greeting, one of actions and not words, as his hand slipped back under the covers to squeeze at your hip encouragingly.

You took a breath, barely, his lips dragging over your chin in hardly-formed kisses before your mouths were meeting again, his tongue sweeping happily into your mouth, and the groan he gave was swallowed by your gasp at a sensation that never grew old. Raising a hand to tangle into his hair, the covers dragged, your back now meeting the mattress as he rolled you over slowly, noses bumping together in uncoordinated and clumsy movements, the glorious haze of sleep still clinging to you both like the warmth of whiskey on hazy nights at Rita’s. It was like being drunk, utterly intoxicated on one another.

Azriel’s mouth detached from your own, a series of kisses growing wetter and hotter as they were trailed across your jaw, your neck, one of Azriel’s thick thighs slotting between your own as he shifted full over you now. Whispered words that ranged from ‘good morning’ to ‘you’re beautiful’, whispered into your skin like reverent praises, like holy prayers, even though everything on his lips sounded like sin.

With a single sharp tug on his hair, his head rose up, glistening and swollen lips parted for shallow breaths, honey-eyes shallowed entirely by the dark as his gaze met your own, knowing exactly what you wanted. Surging forward, your mouths collided once again, your whimpers crashing against his breathy moans, his weight all but collapsing down against you and wings flaring as your bodies pressed together.

It was hot, and tender, and needy, the hand that wasn’t holding him up now sliding over your hip, down over your bare thigh, to hitch it up around his waist for his body to slot between and-

“Good morning!”

A yelp almost tore from your lips, a spike of adrenaline setting your heart racing for an entirely different reason. You recognised that overly enthusiastic chirp, the deep and rumbling voice it had come from, and Azriel’s usual frown was replaced by a menacing scowl, as he reluctantly rolled his body off of your own, draping a wing over you as he shifted to sit propped-up at your side instead. He barely had time to retract that wing any further before Cassian was all but throwing himself down onto the bed beside you both.

“Get out.” It was the first real, discernible words Azriel had spoken yet this morning, not including the ones he’d whispered into your skin minutes prior, and a snicker of a laugh left your lips.

“How are my two favourite sickeningly in-love best friends doing, this morning?” Cassian crossed his legs at the ankles, obviously far too comfy as he toed off his slippers, still clad in his own pyjamas. You raised a brow, and Azriel only growled a menacing sound.

“Get out.”

“Oh, Az,” Cassian tutted, and you sighed, hauling yourself up from where you’d been lay in the pillows to sit a little more comfortably, leaning forwards long enough to let Azriel begin to situate himself first. It was clear that the General had no intentions of leaving any time soon. “I’m just preparing you for what it’ll be like when you two eventually have kids.”

“No, because my kids will be well-trained.” As he settled comfortably, one arm looped around your shoulders, over your collar to tug you back into his body, stretching out across the pillows, and the other landed on your thigh under the covers. A reassuring squeeze, a stroke of his hand above your knee. You smiled. “My kids will know not to burst into the room when daddy is lay on top of mommy, or else he’ll be in a bad mood all day.”

“Nope.” Cassian offered no explanation, popping the ‘p’ just to rib Azriel a little more. “Don’t care, and neither will your kids.” He shifted, your eyes widening a little as Cassian snuggled down happily, fluffing the pillows behind his body and tucking his legs under the covers, tugging on them until he could get enough from you both to cover himself.

“Cass, why are you in our bed?” You questioned, your friend’s head turning to you both, a wicked glint of mischief and excitement in his eyes.

“Well, you two were taking too long to invite me into it, so I invited myself.” He wiggled his brows teasingly, your laughter bouncing off of the walls. Azriel’s hand slipped back up from the cushions, cupping over your mouth to muffle your amusement as he tipped your head back onto his shoulder.

“Stop laughing, you’ll encourage him. He’s like a rash, he’ll keep coming back.” That only furthered your amusement, and despite his groan, a flare of matching entertainment from him tugged in your chest, and he placed a kiss on your temple, before slipping his hand away from your mouth. “So, why are you here, ruining our morning?”

“I happen to have some very important information, and I thought the spymaster of the court ought to know about it.”

“You’re here to gossip.” Azriel deadpanned, dropping his head down until his nose was brushing your hair, to hide the smile you knew he would be wearing. Despite all his constant complaining and the tone of his voice, Azriel loved gossip.

“Precisely.” Cassian seemed to know it just as much as you did, because as he shuffled onto his side, head supported on his fist as his elbow dug into the pillows, Az’s grip on your thigh tightened subconsciously with excitement. “It’s gossip about our beloved High Lord.”

“Even juicer.” You settled a little further back into your lover’s chest, his lips brushing a series of soft kisses along your temple as you did, both of your attentions now fixed gleefully and expectantly on your unexpected guest.

“So, today Rhys had told me to ensure my evening was free, because he wanted me to stop by so we could crack open a few bottles of his best whiskey and get, in his words, ‘rip-roaringly drunk’. He didn’t say way, I figured he’d just tell me when I got there, so-”

“Why wasn’t I invited?”

“Shh.” You mumbled, already invested in the story just from the sheer enthusiasm Cassian was telling with, and you received a pinch to your thigh in response, a giggle falling from your lips as you slapped his hand away from over the top of the covers.

“As I was saying,” He huffed, and Azriel didn’t bother to interrupt again. “So, I was just minding my own business, on my way to get some breakfast and try to plan what to do with the day before that, when Rhys shows up in my bedroom.”

“His poor eyes, your morning hair looks like a bird’s nest.” You muttered.

“His poor nose, your morning breath is awful.” Your friend only shot a growl at both you and Azriel, even as you reached out to pat down some of the ridiculously messy locks of hair that were tangled atop his head.

“I doubt he even noticed, because he was freaking out. He was frantic, like I’ve never seen him. He all but threw a suitcase at me and told me to pack a week’s worth of stuff and to come get you guys, before giving this weird, patchy speech about why.” Cass shrugged, your brows shooting up your forehead as he just stopped talking.

“Well? What was the speech?” The words burst out of Azriel behind you, as though he’d read your mind, both of you pinning him with matching stares as you awaited more.

“Something about a wedding and a bargain and finally having his shot. All I know is that we have to clear out for a week to the townhouse.”

“Oh, my Gods..” The puzzle pieces all seemed to click together, your mind whirring into action as your sleep-addled brain started to catch up with the day. “Feyre, the girl Rhys made a bargain with. The Cursebreaker. He never cashed in on that bargain, I never really questioned it because it’s been so busy around here since he got back. But, she’s marrying Tamlin. Today.”

Cassian’s jaw dropped into a wide O-shape, thick brows shooting up, and the rumble of Azriel’s contemplative hum buzzed against your chest. Dipping down, he left a soft kiss in the crook of your neck, and another over the shell of your ear, just to mumble; “It’s hot when you do clever spy work and deduction, my love.”

“Stop flirting! I haven’t even gotten to the best part of the story yet!”

“Well, hurry up, then! You’re gonna’ fucking kill us.”

“So, I packed my bag and all, and I was on my way down to see you both when I heard shouting. I investigated, and you’re right. I have never seen such a hideous wedding dress. It was all ruffles and puffed-up lace and she had these gloves on.” Cassian pulled a face, his nose scrunching up as he recalled whatever monstrosity the poor girl had likely been forced into for a big Spring Court tradition. “She was arguing with Rhys for finally coming to cash in the bargain, and then when he walked away from her, she took off her shoe and threw it at him.”

“Mother above..”

“Did it hit him?” There was something hilariously cheeky laced through Azriel’s question, the kind of joy only true brothers can get at the idea of one another being hit by flying footwear.

“Right on the back of the head.”

“Good shot. Go Feyre.” Cassian only laughed his agreement, and you huffed, shuffling onto your side to press a little further into the warmth of your mate’s body, the chill in the air from Cassian’s constant shuffling was making a breeze sweep in under the covers. “Twenty gold marks says they’re fucking by the end of the year.”

The vibrations of his voice were a steady thrum under your cheek on his chest, and you swatted idly at his side, a scoff tumbling from your lips as your eyes closed happily once again. Cassian’s laughter only boomed, and he cupped a hand over his mouth to muffle it, not wanting to give his presence away to Feyre, wherever she was currently hiding out in the mountaintop palace you all called home.

“They won’t be fucking!” Azriel’s laughter was hidden in your hair as he dipped his head down, arms tightening around your body to squeeze you close as he shook beneath you in amusement. “It was literally her wedding day! To Tamlin! Gods, what a mess that’ll be when she goes back… What do you think will happen?”

You couldn't help it, slipping into a slight bit of gossip and hypothesising; Cassian had always been so good at dragging this devious side out of you both. It was shameful, really. It was even more shameful how much you secretly loved it. The two males fell silent around you, mulling it over slowly, and you could practically feel the energy change in the room, picturing Cassian’s shit-eating grin before he even spoke.

“Forty gold marks says they’re fucking within three months.”

Azriel broke out in fits of very un-warrior-like hysterics with his best friend once again, bursts of joyous laughter filling your chest and plucking the bond with so much warmth that eventually giggles fell from your own lips too. “You two are awful.”

“Oh, c’mon, my love…” Azriel places a sweet kiss on the edge of your temple, smoothing one hand up and down your spine, twice, before resting it again just above the curve of your ass under the covers. “Think of the fantastic date we’ll be going on with Cassian’s money when he loses.”

“When you put it like that…”

“Oh, my. Where will we be going on this fancy date?” The bubble popped once again, with Cassian holding the metaphorical needle, wielded proudly like the greatest sword.

“Somewhere you’ll never find us.” He scoffed at Azriel’s words, and you twisted enough to press a kiss over the thudding heart contained under golden skin and thick muscles where you rested.

“Don’t be so mean to me! I’ve already been made temporarily homeless, and now you’re rejecting me? I can’t bear it.” He folded his wings in tight, only shuffling down even more into the pillows that you’d once called your side of the bed, now resting happily atop Azriel as you crowded into his side.

“So, you’re not leaving, then?” You fired back.

“Preferably now,” Azriel added with a mutter, fingers inching a few millimetres further down, just enough to hint to you that he had absolutely not forgotten your activities before Cassian had arrived.

“Of course not. I’m not going anywhere.” Twin groans from you and Azriel made Cassian laugh. Finally, you turned back to face him, eyes cracking open to observe. He was now laying on his back, settled in and looking cosier than ever amongst the blankets and pillows, truly and completely making himself at home. Uninvited. “Can’t go anywhere ‘til Rhys says we’re clear of bumping into the Cursebreaker in the halls. Then, we all get kicked out to stay at the Town House for a week. Doesn’t that sound great? Might as well get used to it, it’ll be fun!”

His tone change at ‘fun’ had Azriel’s breath holding in his chest, eyes narrowing at Cassian’s wiggling brows, and your stomach dropped at the thought.

“We’re not gonna’ have any alone time for a whole week.” Azriel was exasperated, as though finally realising that it wasn’t going to happen, his hand sliding back up to sit at a safe space. All the way up, until he was threading it into your hair instead, fingertips kneading your scalp subconsciously.

“I have nothing to do except make sure that by this time next week, your balls are so blue they could disappear in the night sky, Az.”

Your mate’s body tightened fractionally underneath you at the threat, squirming a little as though he could already feel the frustration and cock-blocking his best friend would unleash upon him. Cassian, the complete opposite, was looking ridiculously proud of himself, and you hoped your smile at the pair’s antics wasn’t showing.

“Don’t worry, Az,” You reached up, dragging a finger down your lovers’ jaw, his fingers twitching on your body as you did. Layering on the seduction in your voice, just to make a point, “I’ll take real good care of your balls, honey.”

His head twisted, nipping at the tip of your finger playfully, and Cassian made a show of clearing his throat in a rather disgusting and pointed series of spluttering coughs.

“So, who wants to hear about the time my big toe got infected because of a splinter?”

#azriel/reader #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel x you #azriel x reader smut #azriel/reader smut #azriel/you #acotar/you #acotar x you #acotar/reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

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azsazz · 2 months

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Midnight Muse (Part 19)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: SMUT

Word Count: 5,592

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Masterlist]

Notes: The moment we've all been waiting for 😏 (took me like four days to write this)....Happy Valentine's Day 💙

_________________________________________

The kiss is searing.

It’s a desperate attempt to taste each other, devour each other as your lips part beneath Azriel’s without thought. Your teeth clack and the sound is loud in the silence of the gallery, almost startlingly so, but his tongue is brushing across yours in a tentative swipe before you’re meeting him halfway, kissing him even more urgently as the taste of him explodes on your tongue.

He tastes fresh and spicy. There’s a hint of the champagne he’s been drinking, and just like the fizziness of it, the feeling bubbles throughout your body pleasurably. You press yourself closer. His eyelashes are so long that you swear you can feel them fluttering against your skin. The feeling goes straight to your cunt.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and you lose yourself into him entirely.

A new beginning indeed.

“Wait,” Azriel pants between kisses. His words tell you that he wants to pause this kiss that is more dizzying than any of the champagne you’ve had tonight, but the way his hands caress your face, keeping you close, the way that he continues to press his mouth against yours again and again tells you that he doesn’t want this to end either. “Princess, wait.”

Ice slips through your veins as you rock back from him a little. Is he already regretting this? I mean, you did just throw yourself at him like some simpering girl, but his reassuring grip slides down your arms, holding you close. Tingles skitter in wake of his touch, but you can’t help the part of you that’s suddenly terrified of what he’s going to say.

Azriel must see it on your face too, the worry, because his brows furrow slightly like he doesn’t understand your quick reaction to pull away. He’s stepping into you, plastering himself against your front. You can feel his cock, hard with attention against your stomach. You relax slightly as the warmth from your cheeks drips down to collect at the apex of your thighs.

“You’re drunk,” Azriel breathes, and the pinch of his brows becomes more tortured when you slide your hands up his chest, wrapping them around his neck. Those golden eyes search yours frantically, but you don’t show him anything but the ache, the need for him you have and have been locking deep inside of your soul. “I need you to be sober when I fuck you for the first time, princess.”

“I’m fine,” you whine, clinging to him as tightly as he is to you. You roll your hips a little to emphasize what you want from him and Azriel makes a choked noise in response. “I’m not drunk enough to where I’d forget any of this, Azriel.”

And fuck, the way you say his name, no longer filled with hatred or annoyance. It’s a heady whine that makes his cock harder than stone. He thinks he might crumble under your touch like a delicate piece of his charcoal. He wants to be wrapped all around you, embedded into your skin like the chalky substance he favors. He wants to ink you with his touch, with his cum—

He shakes his head, erasing those thoughts from his mind. If he continues down that path he might just rip off your dress right now and—“Fuck,” he squeezes his eyes shut as hard as he can for a moment, leaning his forehead against yours. “I want to fuck you in a bed, not on some hard floor.”

It’s an excuse and you both know it. He could lie you down right now and fuck you so hard that your tailbone bruises from the stone floors, and you’d probably thank him.

“Just put a canvas down,” you suggest, “Let’s make some art.” He grunts like you’ve just shot him, bucking his hips against you. You can feel how big he is and you want to unleash his cock from his pants, run your fingers across the hardness of it, taste him on your tongue—

“Easy,” he warns playfully, but there’s a clear strain to his voice that tells you that he wants to keep going. Sadly, Azriel pulls your hands from his belt. You hadn’t noticed that your fingers had moved to his waist on their own volition.

“Fuck,” you curse, wincing. “Sorry.”

“Say fuck again,” he says, distracted. The honey of his eyes is dripping with lust, pupils blown wide as they drink you in. The flush to your cheeks, the way you’re biting your tongue and batting your eyelashes up at him like you’re going to make him beg for it. He might. Azriel brushes his thumb across your lip, watching the way your mouth forms the words again. “Filthy, princess,” he breathes against your mouth. “Everytime you called me prick or asshole or whatever creative curses you could come up with, you don’t know how much I wanted to come taste them off of your lips, fuck them right out of you.”

He wants to know if you’ll make the same noises that you did on the other side of that wall that day.

You can’t help but to rub yourself against him. Your sex is throbbing with need. You moan again and Azriel sucks harshly on your neck. “Shit,” you whine. His hands are everywhere, winding around your body to hold you even closer. “Need your cock, Az,” you pant, and he’s kissing you forcefully, the both of you stumbling back a few steps.

“You’ll get it, princess,” he mumbles, hands dragging hot lines down your spine to squeeze a handful of your ass. You’re about to beg him again, because your failed attempts at convincing him to fuck you right here on the floor are not working, but the lights cut out, sending the entire gallery into a pitch of darkness.

Azriel groans and you can’t help the laugh that escapes.

“What the hell?” You question through your giggling, turning as you throw a look over your shoulder as if making sure that the entire room has succumbed to the same darkness. You don’t miss the way Azriel’s grip tightens on you as you move, and the action weakens your knees.

“Thesan told me this would happen at midnight,” Azriel supplies, digging into the pocket of his trousers for his phone.

You feign a gasp, “My very own Cinderella moment! I’ve always wanted one!”

The smirk in Azriel’s tone is clear when he answers. “Except, unlike Cinderella, you’ll be getting dick tonight.”

You swat at him, but in the dark you miss. He chuckles, deep and throaty, as if the current of your swing ruffled the fabric of his shirt. You clench your thighs. Being on this side of Azriel’s good mood is spectacular, but there is no way he can keep torturing you like this.

“I think it really sets the mood; don’t you think?” You purr, fingers fumbling for the top button of his shirt.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he grouses, catching your hands and guiding you through the dark gallery instead. The flashlight on his phone leads the way. Azriel keeps your hand tucked tightly in his own as you wobble back into your heels with a soft hiss, your aching feet already protesting again. “When I fuck you, I need to see all of those pretty faces you’re going to make for me,” Azriel all but growls.

You stumble, blaming it on your shoes and Azriel steadies you.

He swipes up the glasses from the floor and you pick up the nearly empty champagne bottle, where you return them all to the kitchenette Thesan built in the back, dumping them into the sink.

When you scold Azriel for not washing the glasses, he arches a brow, illuminated by the glaring light coming from his phone. “Oh, now you want to stay longer and help clean up?” He questions and you roll your eyes in response. “Is this my punishment for wanting to take you home and fuck you in a nice, comfy bed? C’mon, princess, you know just how soft it is, don’t you?”

You shiver at his words. That, for once, you’re both completely on the same page about something.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The ride back to the apartment building is both the longest ride you’ve ever endured, and the most tension-filled.

Azriel had called a cab to take the both of you home, and spent the time waiting by pressing you up against the back door of the building and kissing the life out of you.

It’s difficult to focus on anything other than his hand in yours, the soft and rigid texture of his hand. The way that his thumb smoothes gentle circles across your own hand where they lie intertwined in your lap. The warmth of his skin is both settling and forming a rock in your stomach as you think about what he’s endured to grace these scars upon his skin. That his step-brothers had been so cruel to take a flame to the artist's hands.

You try to swallow past the lump in your throat, breathing shallowly so you don’t make yourself sick with the thoughts searing through your mind.

The driver doesn’t try to make conversation and you’re thankful for that, but the silence is consuming, aiding in your negative thoughts.

As if sensing the turn of your thoughts, Azriel squeezes your hand, and gives you a gentle smile. It’s a crooked one, one corner of his mouth tilted higher than the other, but it’s easily the most beautiful smile you’ve seen. It makes him look younger, less like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. It makes you wish you had your sketchpad with you. Him looking at you like this makes you feel like there’s a garden growing in your stomach, a field of blooming flowers.

You frown when Azriel’s fingers untangle from yours but then he’s sliding that large palm scoots slowly up your thigh. You glare, glancing into the front of the car at the driver, who is paying no attention to whatever is going on in his backseat, which is perfect because Azriel’s hand is creeping higher, almost cupping your—

You splutter a little and the driver glances at you in the mirror.

“You okay?” Azriel asks, but you can hear the mirth in his voice, see the heat in his eyes, flashing in the streetlights.

You’re not all that sure that you like this new Azriel.

“Peachy,” you offer, using both of your hands to clamp down on his wrist to keep him from coming any closer to your already weeping cunt. The thin fabric of your dress does little to separate the warmth of his hand from your skin. “Just peachy.”

Azriel finds challenge in your response, and you’re no match for his strength as he softly brushes his fingers across the fabric covering your intimates. You exhale harshly and can feel the car moving faster as the driver presses harder on the gas.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You skip going into your apartment, trailing after Azriel with your hand tucked into his.

Your heart is beating wildly, like it’s trying to escape your chest. The closer you get to his door the more confident in your decision you are. You want him, want his hands all over your body, his eyes and hands on your skin and his cock plunged deeply into your cunt.

The elevator had been the only option to get upstairs because of your tired feet, but Azriel had thoroughly distracted your nervousness of getting back in the blasted metal trap by pinning you up against the door and slotting his lips over yours.

The both of you stumbled out onto your floor in a fit of laughter, helped along by the slight warmth that lingers from the champagne. Now, you’re mostly just drunk off of Azriel, his hands, the strain in his pants that’s calling your name, that gleam in his eye that you haven’t quite caught before…

“I’m going to get you some water,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your mouth. You had both creeped quietly into the dark apartment, holding your breath and listening for any movement. For college students, the weekend night is still young, and his roommates must be out because not a grunt of a wank or a moan from Feyre sounds. You follow Azriel’s mouth because you can’t get enough of the taste of him. His hands settle on your hips, eyes gleaming with amusement. “And after you drink it, if you still want to—”

“Yes, Azriel,” you cut him off, earnest. “My answer isn’t going to change.”

He studies you, golden eyes hungry with desire, before he nods, slipping from the room, the shadows of the dark living room swallowing him whole.

You bite back the smile threatening to tear your face into two at the sight of his tight ass in his black trousers. You can’t wait to rip them off and see what’s under them.

Exhaling, you spin on your heel, kicking out of your shoes. Your feet sigh with relief as they fall flat against the hardwood floors, and you wiggle your toes, admiring his room. It feels different, somehow, than when it did when you woke up here hungover as fuck.

The light from the lamp beside the bed is soft, the pile of books stacked in pristine order as opposed to the ready-to-tip-over pile you remember. It’s clean, no piles of clothes on the floor like in Cassian’s room, no pair of panties thrown over the desk chair.

Azriel’s desk is the only thing you could consider messy, but even then, it’s cleaner that what your art stations look like when you’re working on a project. There’s a jar filled with chunks of charcoal, a cloth drenched black hanging over its side. There are loose sheets of paper and thick graphite pencils for sketching, and a luster of sketchbooks stacked in a neat pile, the one on top open.

You lean closer, squinting against the shadows to get a better look, and your breath hitches in your throat.

Drawing upon drawing, and they’re all of you. He’s made you look so beautiful that you didn’t even know you looked like this. Even the ones that he’s clearly drawn in a rush, before the memory faded, are impeccable.

It’s you in the elevator, head buried in your sketchbook, hat pulled low over your eyes. It’s you when Feyre and Rhysand forced everyone to have lunch together, tossing the grape at Cassian. It’s you, swallowing up at him the first day that you met. You sitting on the back of his motorcycle, rain plastered to your head, you—

You can’t help but to turn the page, all but collapsing into the desk chair. Some of the pages are filled with larger drawings, spreading across the spine of the book. When you’d eaten dinner with him, the shock on your face when you learned that he could cook. The following pages are a double-spread from when you were staring down at him when he was changing the oil on his motorcycle.

A hysterical laugh bubbles in your throat. You hadn’t realized that Azriel had been paying as much attention to you as you were with him. The drawings of yours that you dropped all over the floor of his hands are a tribute to that.

“What are you doing?” Azriel’s voice startles you. You stand from the chair and face him, but you don’t move any closer than that. He’s standing in the doorway, a glass of water in his hand. He doesn’t move closer, and when his eyes flick from the sketchbook to you , your chest hurts at the guarded look he wears.

“That sketchbook is filled with drawings of me,” you point at the sketchbook in question, even though he was just looking at it. In some speck of the world it might seem creepy, this sketchbook filled with drawings of you, but to you, it’s no different than children scribbling names of their cushes across notebooks. It’s no different than all of the drawings you have of him.

You watch Azriel’s throat work as he swallows. Like he’s considering not answering you at all.

After a few, long seconds in silence, he breathes out a quiet, “Yes.”

“Why?” you ask, twisting your fingers together.

Azriel tracks the movement. Because you consume every waking moment of my life sounds too desperate. Because you chase my demons away sounds even crazier.

“Because I really like you.” It’s his first time admitting it, your first time hearing it from him. All of the times Feyre has tried to ask you about Azriel had been deny, deny, deny, because of this very moment right now. You hadn’t wanted to think about him like that, even when your mind was desperate to. You didn’t want to actually like Azriel, not after what he had done, but you find yourself admitting that you like him a hell of a lot more than you ever thought you could.

Bunching up the bottom of your dress, you curl your fingers around it as you take a step closer. He’s frozen in the doorway, watching you slowly drag the fabric up your body and over your head. You’d forgone a bra, and your nipples tighten in the chill of the room, underneath that piercing gaze of his.

In the few steps it takes you to cross the room to him, your dress is on the floor and he can’t stop looking at your body, drinking you in like an artist does his muse.

“I really like you too, Azriel,” you respond softly. This is the most intimate thing you’ve ever done, bare yourself to him while he’s still fully clothed, being as vulnerable as he’d been with you back at the gallery. The ball is in his court, and the bulge in his pants has you hopeful.

Azriel curses. “Fuck, princess. You’re making my hands shake.”

Your solution is simple, taking the glass from him and reaching over to set it on the dresser. You can feel the way his eyes rove your body as you move, hot like a knife.

Turning back to him, you slowly, gently take his hands in yours. They’re trembling a little, and it makes you ache.

He’s frozen to the spot as he watches you lift one of his palms to your lips, kissing it sweetly. It’s followed by the other, and then you’re dragging his hands down your skin and over your breasts, squeezing his hands around them, nipples tight with the pleasure of his skin against them.

Azriel’s breath hitches and your head nearly rolls back on your neck when his fingers twitch, fighting the urge to squeeze harder. You peer up at him. He’s so godsdamned warm, eyes dark and drinking you in like a delight. You want to feel his hands everywhere. Right this second.

“They’re not shaking right now, Azriel.”

As quick as lightning, Azriel strikes, lunging forward and scooping you off of your feet, kicking the door shut behind him.

You arch into his touch, the tightness of your sensitive nipples grazing across the soft fabric of his shirt. You moan into his mouth at the feeling and he swallows that sound desperately.

His room is small, and in two great strides he’s placing you on his bed and crawling up after you like a wolf getting its first taste of a kill.

You scoot backwards until you can’t anymore, and Azriel follows you like a worshiper to his God, like a starving artist to their muse.

His hands trail your calves to your thighs where he parts them, your clothed cunt on full display. The fabric is wet and you shiver at the cold of his room as it fights against your hot core, shivering harder when Azriel’s hot gaze drags down your body like a brush dipped in paint.

Like this, kneeling between your legs, he’s the one that looks Godlike. Strands of his black hair fall across his glowing eyes, and his tongue pokes out to wet his lips.

“My Gods, princess. Where do I even start with you?” he asks, his voice filled with awe.

You know that his question is rhetoric, but you can’t help the whine on an answer that slips from your lips.

“Anywhere you want.”

As if he can’t stand it a moment longer, Azriel’s hips find yours. His cock is heavy with need where it’s straining against the fabric of his trousers, and you keen as he grinds into you, fingers finding the buttons of his shirt as he watches you with hungry eyes.

Splayed out like this, on his bed, you look impeccable. A feast and he is a starving man. Biting your lip as he rubs himself against your cunt. The part to your lips, glistening in the lamplight. He drinks you in, memorizing each and every single ounce of you before your fingers find the sliver of exposed skin that grows with each button he takes off.

He’s smooth, warm, and the ridges of his muscles feel like a puzzle beneath your fingers. You know exactly where he fits, right up against your body.

Azriel’s shirt falls to the side and as if he knows the intended path of your thoughts, he’s leaning over you, caging you between his elbows as he stares deeply into your eyes. You can’t help but watch in response, suddenly so sure that you’ve spent too long arguing with him. All this time, you could’ve been doing this.

It looks like Azriel is realizing the same, as he dips down to kiss you sweetly.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs against your mouth again, following the words with another whisper of a kiss.

“I’ve already forgiven you,” you say, delirious from the feeling of his tongue against your neck. Azriel sucks lightly and your breath hitches, thighs quivering to wrap around his taut waist. “But if you get inside of me right now, I’ll forgive you again.”

Azriel lifts his head. With the way that his dark hair falls into his gold eyes, paired with the slight smirk on his face, it sends your heart into a rapid flutter. He’s utterly breathtaking, and something blooms deeply inside of you.

The things you’ve learned about him, from him, this man who hasn’t let his hardships keep him from doing what he loves.

“Don’t think you’re getting off that easy, princess,” Azriel says, and you almost whine when he pulls away from you, but he’s kissing his way down your body, sucking a pert nipple into his mouth and rolling his tongue around it while his other hand massages your free breast. Your fingers find his shoulders and you dig your nails in, hissing as he rolls your nipple between his teeth. Gods, you need his cock, right now. “I have to taste your sweet little pussy first.”

“Please,” you beg as his hands trail down your sides, snapping the waistband of your panties against your hips in a tease.

“Might have to keep you here all night. So I can study your body with my tongue,” he says, leaning down to lick a stripe up the inside of your thigh. “My hands,” Azriel continues, and the words are accentuated with a brush of his knuckle down the center of your core. The thin fabric of your panties does nothing to ease the feeling of his touch. You keen deeply, and somewhere in the haze of the storm that is Azriel that accompanies his every touch, you don’t realize he’s slipped from his pants and boxers, his thick, full length on display. “And my cock,” he finishes, rubbing himself against your soaked panties.

“Az,” you mewl desperately, but you don’t have to wait any longer because he’s already peeling your panties down your legs and settling himself there, admiring the way your pretty cunt flutters and glistens with need.

Your fingers are already fisting the sheets and it’s an effort to peer down at him, watching in anticipation as he finally, finally, lowers his head to your weeping cunt.

Fucking Gods, is Azriel wicked with his tongue, sweeping a deep stroke through your slit. He groans and the sound of it reverberates against your clit and it’s all too much already. You figure he was going to be good with his hands, being an artist, but this…the gentle to harsh touches of his tongue against your clit is otherworldly.

You gasp as he fucks into you, keeping you from scooting up the bed where your feet are planted in the sheets with his hands on your hips, holding you to his face. He’s a man undone, delirious on your taste alone. He can’t wait until his cock gets to feel this.

Azriel works his tongue, fucking into you with such hunger. He sucks greedily at your clit and you arch off of the bed. One of his palms slides across your hips, pressing you back down. He doesn’t care that you’re squeezing his head with your thighs, only cares about the sounds that he’s ripping from your mouth.

They sound even better on this side of the wall.

A finger replaces his tongue and you’re full on squirming now, fingers buried deeply into his hair as you guide his head, the flick of his tongue too good that any words besides “yes,” eddy from your mind. Azriel’s knuckle brushes the bundle of nerves inside of you and you’re seeing white, cunt clenching around his finger, grinding your pussy into the feverish flicking of his tongue as you ride out the best orgasm of your life.

You cunt aches, and Azriel’s still going, so you use your grip on his hair to jostle him a little, whimpering to get his attention.

It takes a lot more strength for Azriel to part from your cunt than he thought. Your sweetness is still on his tongue, coating his mouth when he looks up at you, dazed, as if he’s the one that’s just come from a taste of you. But no, he’s still painfully hard, trying not to rut his hips into the bed while you squirmed for him.

He wants you to do all that squirming on his cock instead.

“You alright up there, princess?” Azriel teases, crawling his way up your body once more. Following the guidance of the hand in his hair, he slants his mouth over yours, sharing the taste of you in a lazy kiss.

You hum languidly, eyes shut in bliss from the orgasm. You peek your eyes open to peer up at Azriel, who’s admiring you with a soft curve to his mouth. He looks so handsome when he smiles that it has you wrapping your legs around his hips, the both of you groaning as his cock slides through your slick folds, teasing.

“Condom,” you gasp, canting your hips to slide your wet and fully interested cunt across his length. He’s so big, and you’d be going down on him if it weren’t for the way that you desperately need to feel him inside of you, right this fucking instant.

Azriel reaches over you, pulling open the drawer of the small table next to you. He roots around for a moment and then he’s pressing back on his haunches, tearing open the condom wrapper and pulling it out.

“Let me,” you offer, and his eyes turn a shade darker when he passes it over.

Your mouth waters at the feeling of his cock in your hand, hot and heavy, silky like heaven. You can feel your slick around the length from where he’d nearly driven you to insanity with that teasing grind against your cunt, and in retaliation, you give his cock a tug, reveling in the low growl that comes from the back of his throat.

“Princess,” he threatens, and your thighs jolt, trying to shut around your screaming clit at the sound.

You don’t wait for Azriel to take charge. As soon as you roll the condom on you’re brushing the head of his cock against your cunt again, slicking him and lining him up with your entrance, looking up at him with those big, innocent eyes.

“Fuck me, Az. I can’t wait another minute.”

His lips meet yours in a bruising kiss and he slowly presses his cock into you.

“Fucking fuck, princess. You’re so tight for me.” His words are shaky against your mouth, as if he’s struggling to hold himself back from pressing into you all the way, from cumming with a singular touch.

You mewl his name on the breath that’s forced from your lungs with each inch he plunges into you. Gods, he looked big, felt bigger in your hand, and as he works his cock into your heat, you’re not too sure he’s going to fit all the way.

But the words he’s whispering into your ear, onto your skin have you melting. The finger he slips between your bodies to play with your clit is distracting enough to where you’re focused on the pleasure he’s pulling from you.

And then his cock hits that spot, nestles up against it when your hips meet, and you cry out in joy. “Right there, Azriel. You feel so good.” Your fingers dig into the long lines of muscle down his back, trying to hold him closer, as if you aren’t already touching in every way possible.

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this moment?” he asks you, accentuating his words with a slow roll of his hips that makes you both groan, your nails biting into his skin like the needle from his tattoo gun. It drags a shiver up his spine as a fleeting thought zips through his mind, one of you, naked and sitting on his cock, giving him another tattoo. He’ll teach you how to hold the tattoo gun and let you have free rein with it, because anything that you can give him, he wants. Azriel squeezes his eyes shut, trying not to burst at the visual. If anything, he can’t wait to coat your virgin skin in his ink. There is so much canvas for him to work with, all smooth and perfect, waiting for some artwork. “When you were touching yourself on that side of the wall,” he pants, pulling out and fucking back into you slowly. The drag of your walls so tight around his cock is perfect. He won’t last long.

You gasp as he bottoms out again, throwing your head back into the pillows. “You heard that?”

His hum is strained, and he can’t help but to kiss you. “You’ll have to show me how you touched yourself some day, princess.”

You moan loudly at the thought of that, gripping him tighter. Azriel sitting in his chair, charcoal poised above his sketchpad as he watches you with dark eyes, while you touch yourself to the thought of him. Just how he’s touching you now, tight, little circles around your clit.

“I heard you with that guy,” Azriel continues, and his thrusts become harsher, deeper. “With that fucker from the coffee house. I bet you faked it with him, all that laughing and sighing. I’m going to find out if those noises were real or not.” You shiver at his words, but Azriel couldn’t be further from wrong.

“We didn’t fuck,” you pant, bucking your hips up to meet his. Azriel makes a choked sound, canting his hips to hear you keen wildly at the change of angle. And then, because you know it will make him come undone, you say, “All of this is just for you, Az.”

Azriel nearly cums at those words alone. The coiling in his bones is so hot that he readjusts for better leverage, and fucks into you with abandon. Gods, he loves the way that you’re clinging to him, the way your cunt squeezes his cock tightly, like you never want to let him go.

He’s been a fucking fool all of this time. A Godsdamn fucking fool. He could’ve had you like this, milking his cock dry, making these sounds that threaten to tear the walls down. He could’ve had his hands all over you, because you seem to like the way that he’s touching you, even with how fucked up they are.

“I’m going to memorize everything about this perfect body of yours, princess,” Azriel groans, thrusting deeply. He can tell you’re on the verge of your own orgasm, with the way your cunt squeezes him, the way those gorgeous eyes roll into the back of your head and your mouth parts, letting out those filthy noises he revels in. “We’ve got all night. Let me see you cum again, princess. Cum all over my cock. Oh, fuck, princess. That’s it.”

Your orgasm rocks through you like a tidal wave, stealing your breath away. You hold onto Azriel like he’s your lifeline, trembling in the aftershocks. The white-hot pleasure coursing through your veins is incredible, and you wrench your eyes open at the sound of Azriel’s shaky warning.

Azriel follows you into serendipity. He wishes he were painting your body in white strokes. It’s always been far from his favorite color, but he thinks it could quickly become his favorite if he could see his cum splattered across your skin.

For the first time, you don’t care that it’s loud on this side of the wall.

Because you’re on it.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽��☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

MM Taglist Part 1: @justvibbinghere @nickishadow139 @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @homeslices @quinzzelx @carlandonorri-s @juniper-july19 @ssmay123 @blackthorngirl @haivenhoule @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @bloodicka @wilmalovegood @jw83 @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92

#acotar #azsazz #midnight muse #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #artist!azriel #tattoo artist!azriel #art school au

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fanwarriorfictions · 29 days

Text

Not Again

Azriel x Rowaelin Daughter Reader

Summary: Azriel has a bad habit of finding random females falling onto the River House lawn. This time, the female in question catches him off guard, and she seems to be even stranger than the last.

Series Masterlist

-Part One-

There was a shift in the air, so subtle that it could’ve been passed off as a breeze through a cracked window. He would’ve thought just that if it hadn’t been for the keen wisps of shadows at his shoulders whispering in his ears, outside, someone’s here, outside, here, here, here, here.

The room filled with his family was non the wiser as the shadowsinger shifted towards the door, all of them talking and laughing by the fire place. Feyre and Rhys cozied up on the loveseat, little Nyx nestled in his mothers arms. Nesta sitting on Cassian’s lap, the sisters talking about the recent books they’d read, his brothers admiring their mates. Mor sipped on her third glass of wine, listening to Elain talk about her blooming garden while she absently fiddled with her still full glass, Lucien sitting comfortably by her side, content to just listen to his mate talk. Amren was nowhere to be found tonight, Varian presumably in town.

Azriel found it easy to slip out the back door, ready to deal with the supposed trouble without disturbing his family’s peace. His shadows didn’t seem alarmed, persistent, but not noting any imminent threat. Despite their ease, he found Truth Teller in his hand, ready to deal with whoever he found if necessary.

It was dark outside, the brisk night air dancing over his fire warmed skin. Calm, no sign of that subtle shift, nothing but his shadows urging him towards the garden, towards whoever was out here causing the small disturbance.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for, what he was expecting to find. Maybe a drunk who wandered to far from the main streets of Velaris, maybe a curious young fae who just wanted a glimpse of the inner circle. He’d dealt with his fair share of both, gently warning them away from the home.

But whatever he’d been expecting it certainly wasn’t what he found. A female laid on the ground, clothes and skin covered with dirt and blood, her body sprawled like she’d been thrown down without care. He could sent fresh blood on her coming from a wound on her head, the stream of it dripping down onto the stones beneath her. Her breathing was steady, her heartbeat strong.

Azriel clenched the blade’s hilt tight in his hand, drawing closer to her slowly. Her scent drifted towards him on a phantom wind, pine and snow, like the mountains of Illryia. Despite his resentment of the people who lived there, the scent reminded him of home.

His shadows curiously trail around the female, finding more and more injuries, a cut on her thigh, bruising across her abdomen. Whoever she was, she had seen her fair share of violence. She was high fae, her ears arched into delicate points, though he could not discern which court she may belong too. Her clothes were to disheveled to detect a distinct style, black leather pants and a long sleeved green shirt beneath a leather vest sheathed with knives like a bandolier. Clothes that could belong to any court, maybe even from the continent.

So busy examining her he didn’t detect the change in her breathing until it was to late.

The female launched up with such speed he was almost to slow to block the attack. She’d pulled one of those knives from her vest, it’s wickedly sharp edge to close to his throat for comfort. Truth Teller blocked the blade, the metal singing against her dagger. The female was quick to pull back, not lunging again like he thought she would but reaching for a smaller knife at her ribs, it was flying through the air faster than he could blink, aiming for his eye with remarkable accuracy, Cassian would be proud of a throw like that. The only reason it didn’t take his eye was due to a shadow darting out to grab the blade midair.

The female is a blur as she lunges again, going for the arm holding his blade. He dodges back, the strike missing him by a hair. She’s fast, faster than most fae he’s fought over the centuries. He catches her next strike, a blow to his side that could’ve left him bleeding out on the floor. She pulls back and retreats a few steps, her stance shifting back like she might jump at him again.

“Stop,” he snarls at her.

She hisses, baring her teeth at him, teeth with unusually sharp canines, and then she speaks, a language he’d never heard before. And that’s when the pieces start to click, when his shadows start to whisper, not of this world, another, another world, another, another, another.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he grounds out, “not again.”

The female only snarls, reaching for another of those small wicked blades. She flips it, pinching the sharp tip between her fingers.

“Wait,” he says, sheathing his dagger at his side, “just wait.”

Her eyes track his movements, the ice cold look in them enough to make him shiver. It felt like the air around them tried to freeze under her gaze, the wind no longer a soft breeze but an ice kissed howl.

His head cocked to the side, that was her, she was controlling the wind. The air swirling around them faster and faster, colder and colder.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said though he was sure she couldn’t understand him.

He held his hands up so she could see them, willing his shadows away so he could look as unthreatening as possible. When the last unknown female had landed on this lawn, she’d fallen right in front of him, he’d been able to get his blade angled to her throat before she had anytime to react, this female on the other hand, had managed to get the jump on him first, a fact that his brothers would never let him live down.

The wind bit at his wings, discomfort sooner turning to pain if it kept up like that. It felt like the moisture in the air was turning to ice, slicing into his skin.

She repeats her words, her voice hard and unforgiving just like the wind around them. A shield, he realized, a casing of wind to block all sound, to keep others out and to keep him trapped.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says again, hoping she can understand the plea in his tone.

Her head tilts, examining him from head to toe, a predator studying its next meal. In that moment, Azriel had never felt more like prey in his life. She had an intensity that rivaled Nesta and Amren, like she knew she was the most powerful creature in the room and she’d be happy to prove it. This female was dangerous, strong, fast, and from another world just like Bryce Quinlann, he could only hope she’d turn out to be an ally as well.

Blood still drips down her face, the cut on her brow deep and jagged, like it had been ripped across a dull object. The scent of her blood filled his nose, laced with that pine and snow, and something warm, like an ember drifting from a fire. Again, it smelled uncannily like home.

Those cold eyes flare wide, the frost bitten wind warming a fraction. Something in her posture shifts, no longer in fight mode, but flight.

“Stop,” he pleads, “hold on.”

Her voice shifts when she speaks, lighter and less harsh, he still can’t understand any of it. His confusion must be evident on his face because she scoffs, lowering the dagger to her side, still not sheathing it. The wind fades away, replaced by a warm gentle breeze that thaws his near frozen wings.

Azriel sighs in relief and she cocks her head at the sound. Her eyes take in his wings, noting the frost on them that slowly melts away. The air seems to get even warmer then.

“Thank you,” he says, bowing his head to show his gratitude, all while keeping an eye on her.

Though she seems to be less hostile, he wouldn’t let his guard down for a second around her.

He felt it then, the gentle prying talons on his mind, ones he instantly let in. Showing Rhys exactly where he was and who was before him.

Not again, Rhys sighs.

That’s what I said, Azriel replies.

And then that night kissed power settles around them, the female’s eyes hardening back to ice, dagger already raised and ready to defend herself. Azriel was half tempted to tell her it wasn’t worth it, that there was little she could do against Rhys, but he kept his mouth shut as his high lord appeared before them. Giving the female that cool charming look that had most ready to eat out of the palm of his hand.

She didn’t have that kind of reaction, instead she lifted that dagger towards his high lord, a snarl on her lips, those vicious canines on display.

“Well that’s interesting,” Rhys says, coolly looking her over, “high fae, but not one of ours.”

She snaps at him, words he couldn’t understand but by the way she ground them out Azriel could tell they weren’t niceties.

“I’m sure that was her way of calling me a prick,” Rhys chuckles, “I’d recognize it in any language.”

Azriel eyes the two of them, he has no doubts that his high lord could defend himself against the female, but after the last encounter he’d had with a foreign fae he didn’t want to underestimate her. Rhys seems to agree, Azriel can almost see the invisible attack he launches, and he sees the exact moment Rhys hits a wall of pure ice around her mind.

His high lord hisses in pain at the exact moment a bright blue light flares from the female, a mark shining on her brow. The mark like those in the book of breathings, like the horn on Bryce’s back.

The female swears, free hand touching that mark as if she could will it back beneath her skin. Her dagger is aimed for Rhys, but her eyes dance between them both, watching for any movement from Azriel, ready to take both of them on in a heartbeat if it was necessary.

“Go get Amren,” Azriel says, “and bring one of those damned translators.”

Rhys is gone within a split second, and the female is angling that dagger at Azriel instead, a warning to stay back, she makes no move to fight nor flee, her frozen stare colder than before though the air continues to stay warm.

Azriel simply holds his hands in the air, “We mean you no harm.”

She responds in that soft swirling language, his shadows writhe in answer, almost like they could understand her. She frowns at them as they travel across the ground towards her, a soft snarl from her lips has them skittering back. Interesting, the way she seems almost familiar with them, he wonders if she’d encountered fae like him before, maybe like Quinlann’s brother.

Rhys and Amren appear in that night kissed darkness, the female’s attention snapping towards them. Amren curiously examines the girl, that mark that still simmers faintly in her brow.

“Are you collecting more strays?”

Azriel doesn’t respond to the jab, watching as Amren takes the small silver bean from her pocket and throws it towards the female without warning. She catches it with ease, glancing between it and Amren with a raised brow.

“Eat,” Amren commands, miming the action, taping on her mouth as she speaks, “to understand.”

Her eyes find Azriel’s, brow quirked in confusion. He simply nods, mimicking Amren’s actions. She seems to understand that, as she lifts the translator to her mouth and swallows it down.

And just like that she erupts, not with that ice cold wind, but with fire, hotter and stronger than that of the heirs of Autumn. Maybe even hotter than Beron’s himself. A shield from Rhys traps the explosion of power though he winces from the effort of keeping her contained. The fire rages, the earth below her turning to ash in an instant. She burns so hot that the flame around her starts to turn blue. She burns and burns and burns, so bright Azriel shields his eyes, so hot that the shield around her can barely contain that heat.

Rhys does not remove the shield until that fire stops its raging, until all that’s left is smoke and ash. She had collapsed on the floor, her dagger red hot against her skin yet it doesn’t burn her hand. That mark burns brighter as she glares up at them, vibrant blue that lights up the world around them.

“A little warning would’ve been nice,” she snaps, her voice tinged with that soft accent of her language.

“Hard to do that when we don’t speak your tongue,” Amren snaps back. “Who are you?”

Her ice cold stare is unsettling as it examines them all. She stands from the ground, that red hot blade lifting towards them, the air warping from the heat.

“My name is Y/n Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius,” her voice is steady, regal, “Crown Princess of Terrasen. And I’d like to know which one of you opened the gate that dragged me here.”

#this is so self indulgent #but I don’t care at all #Azriel’s shadows are cute little busybodies and I love them #acotar x reader #acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #rowaelin daughter #rowaelin

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surielstea · 1 month

Text

Glazed Over Eyes

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader takes care of a very drunk, very clingy Azriel.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol | Fluff

1.9k words

The Inner Circle had gone to Rita’s. I had opted to stay at home with Amren— saying that she couldn’t be trusted to watch Nyx alone as my excuse instead of going to the pleasure hall, besides, I’d much rather be silently doing puzzles while listening to the music coming from beside the bank of the Sidra with the windows wide open.

Feyre and Rhys had come home with pink cheeks, nearly forgetting they shared a house with others, Rhys trying to mount his mate right in front of us. Amren banished them to their room with an annoyed look before returning to the nearly complete puzzle we only started an hour ago.

A moment later, Cassian is stumbling into the room with his arm hooked around a very sober, very annoyed Nesta. She lugs him behind her, he seemed too drunk to fly so they're most likely crashing here for the night. My brows crease when I notice my mate not following in after them. Azriel was hesitant to leave me here in the first place, not wanting to go to some kind of party without me there for him to retreat to when things got too loud. I encouraged him to go, to have fun. I was now worried he was having too much fun.

"Hey Nes?" I call before they can disappear down the hall. She turns to me with creased brows and tired eyes. "Hm?" She asks. "Do you know where Az is?" I ask worriedly, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt, she pales and looks at Cassian who is oblivious to everything but her. "Azriel?" She snaps her fingers in his face and he blinks, waking from his stupor. "Uh, last time I saw him he was cradling a whiskey bottle so it's anyone's guess." He says and I square ny features. "That's reassuring," I whisper. "Sorry, I didn't know I was on babysitting duty for both Illyrians." Nesta sighs as if she's truly let me down. "It's fine, take care of Cass. I'll check Rita's." I wave her off and she nods in thanks. "If you can't find him let me know, I'll help you." She gives me a soft expression and I give her a carefree smile. "Will do." I nod at her, knowing damn well I would be too busy panicking to ask anyone for help if I couldn't find him. She nodded and left down the hall with the huge male draped over her shoulders.

"Sorry Amren, I'll be back," I say, walking towards the front door. "Go, girl. Gods know he's probably found himself in a jail cell by now." She grumbled and I pale. "Comforting, thanks," I mutter before slipping out the door.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Rita's was abnormally loud tonight, or perhaps it was just my lack of intoxication. My brows crease as I scan the pleasure hall for my mate, pulling at the bond connecting us and getting an overwhelming amount of attention back, more than a tug— a pull, towards him.

I don't hesitate to follow the golden tether, leading me right towards the bar.

I spot a familiar head of blonde hair, the girl flirting with the bartender as my mate lays his head down on the bar top.

I push past the crowd, eager to get over to them— shoving drunk males off of me until I finally reach the duo. Mor didn't notice, busy making seductive eyes toward the bartender. I tap Azriel's shoulder and he groans. "I have a mate." He waves me off and I roll my eyes. "I know," I say, he whips his head up and looks at me— eyes widening as he recognizes me. "I'm a genie." He smiled proudly and my brows twitched toward eachother, entirely confused at his giddy behavior. "I wished for you to be here, and now..." He searches for the right words in a long pause. "And now you're here." He finishes and all I can do is blink, bringing the back of my hand to his forehead. "How many drinks did you have?" I tilt my head and he smiles knowingly. "Just one, plus a few more." He shrugs innocently and I release a sigh. "You're drunk." I frown and he scratches the side of his cheek, staring at me blankly.

“I’m not—” hiccup. “Drunk.” He finishes and I arch a brow at him, my stare incredulous. “You’re also not a good liar.” I chastise and he glowers at me, setting his empty glass down on the bar and turning to me fully. “I’m the shadow-master, it’s my job to lie.” He crosses his arms over his chest and I need to refrain from my giggle threatening against my lips. “You’re the spymaster,” I correct and his expression falls.

“Whatever,” He brushes me off. “Words are dumb anyways.” The male grumbles and I laugh at his attitude. His cheeks flush pink and something tells me it’s not due to the alcohol. “You’re so pretty,” He murmurs dreamily and I roll my eyes. “Can you kiss me please,” His hands find mine, pulling me closer with a yearning look. “You’re drunk.” I remind and he groans, head going up to the sky before coming right back down to me. “Drunk on you.” He states as if that makes him any more sober.

I release a soft sigh, rising onto my toes and press a gentle peck to his lips. As I back away he looks at me with a glaze over his eyes, a dumbfounded smile coming to his lips. “That felt good.” He mused and I shook my head in disbelief, wrapping his arm around my shoulders to support him as I dragged him away from the bar and towards the exit. “Bye Mor!” I call back but I doubt she heard me, doubt she even noticed I was there with the way she was talking to the bartender.

Shadows swish around the both of us, causing the crowd to part a path for us, in fear of the shadow singer who, little did they know, was too inebriated to even think about harming anyone.

I lug him out of the bar. “Can’t fly,” He mumbles. “I know,” I pat a hand on his chest reassuringly. “Will you throw up if I winnow?” I look up at him and he takes about three seconds too long to answer. “I suppose there’s only one way to find out.” He shrugs. “Okay just, don’t do it on me,” I instruct and he nods dutifully.

I winnow us back onto the lawn of our house, Azriel’s knees buckling and his hands coming down onto them, leaning over as if he was about to hurl. “You okay?” I press a hand to his back and he nods eagerly, trying to convince himself. I comb his hair back, shadows swirling around the both of us until he’s fully recovered.

Slowly, he stands back up to his full height and drags his feet as we walk up the porch to our house, his arm around my shoulders yet again as he leans most of his weight onto me, wings just barely hovering above the floor as I open the door to our home, pulling him in with me.

“Let’s get you some water,” I say, leading him over to the kitchen and settling him down on a barstool. He sits unstably, staring at me with a stony look. I cautiously back away, afraid he’d tip over without my support, then walk into the kitchen. His eyes follow me with every step I take, shadows swirling around my legs and through my hair.

“Have you always been this pretty?” He asks unprompted, I flush, flicking my eyes up to him as I pour him a tall glass of water. “You’re like, ultra-beautiful—” His words are cut off as he topples over off his chair and crashes down onto the floor.

I pale and set the glass down, rushing towards him and falling to my knees beside his body. He chuckled as he stared up at the ceiling, making me more worried than I should have been. “Are you hurt?” My hand comes to his cheek, scanning for injuries. “From when I fell from heaven?” He raises a brow at me curiously. “From when you fell off your chair.” I correct and he blinks slowly. “Uh,” He mumbles like he has to think about it. “I don’t think so.” He uttered and I giggled, now that I know he was okay. I help him sit up, grabbing the water from the counter and handing it to him.

“I didn’t take you for a clumsy drunk,” I look at him quizzically. “The spymaster is a very quiet, very precise male.” He speaks in the third person. “And very, very, very sneaky.” He adds with a hiccup and I shake my head, making sure he drinks every last drop of the water I gave him.

Once he’s finished I take the glass and help him up. Placing the glass in the sink, he drapes his arms over my shoulders, my hands coming to his forearms as most of his weight now relies on me. “C’mon, you big baby,” I grunt as I haul him towards our bedroom. “Not a baby.” He reminds me like I’ve forgotten. “Sure,” I mumble, pulling him into our room and shutting the door behind us.

He makes the rest of the journey to the bed himself, flopping down onto it. “No sleeping yet,” I grab him by the collar and pull him back upright, beginning to undo the ties of his clothes. He helps me with the undressing, shucking off his leathers as I walk over to the armoire and find a pair of lounge pants, tossing them at him.

He hums a soft tune to help him focus as he pulls the pants up. I wander into the bathroom, open the cabinet, and find a tonic to help with headaches, issued by Madja. I walk back into the room to find him beneath the covers, already half asleep.

“Az,” I call, and his humming halts, head raising to look at me. “This is for the morning okay?” I hold up the small vial and he nods with a soft smile. “You take such good care of me,” He sighs as I climb into the large bed beside him, his arm immediately snaking around my waist and pulling me into him. “I have to return the favor somehow.” I smile up at him, brushing his dark hair from his forehead. “Thank you.” He mutters. I can only nod in reply. He leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead, then he pulls me upward and nuzzles his nose into my shoulder, pressing soft kisses there as well.

I comb my hands through his hair with a nurturing intent. Shadows settle around us, disappearing into the floorboards and corners of the room. Azriel releases a soft sigh of contentment at the feeling of his arms wrapped around me, my warmth consuming him. “Love you.” He murmurs tiredly. “Love you too,” I whisper back, and then his breathing steadies out as if that’s all he needs to hear in order to fall asleep.

Sleep swallowed him entirely, and once I know he’s cared for and safe, only then do I allow myself to fall into a slumber of my own.

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itsjunear · 3 months

Text

"Hidden feelings"

Az x reader

Warnings: None, mention of loneliness, death and a little anger.

Note: Hello again! Thank you for taking the time to read me. I'm sorry if this is a disaster again, English is not my first language but I do what I can. Maybe I'll do a second part, I don't know yet. Again, thanks for reading even though I may not be very good at this.

I was listening to this song while writing this and I really loved it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Was it a good idea to come today?"

I shrunk a little in my seat and swallowed hard. Of course, it had been a good idea; I was with my family. With mine, I reminded myself.

However, I couldn't help but feel a little... alone.

Rhys was in front of me, laughing at the story Feyre was telling him about one of the children attending painting classes in her studio, and Amren watched her amusedly with a glass of wine in her hand.

Cassian was at one end of the room, engrossed in listening to Nesta's account of how the Valkyries' training had gone while she adjusted a lock of his hair.

And Az... the shadow singer was chatting with Elain, who smiled sweetly at him, and she talked to him about the new flowers she was planting in the front part of the house, in her lovely garden.

My heart squeezed a little, and I approached the window.

I gazed at the view; the lights twinkled cheerfully across the city, quite contrary to my mood. I sighed and took a sip of wine. Mor was visiting the Winter Court, so I had no one to get drunk with, even though I was very sure that anyone would have agreed to the request. They wouldn't have asked questions; they wouldn't have asked why I desperately needed to drown myself in drunkenness; they would have simply accompanied me.

But I didn't want to interrupt; I didn't want to ruin their states of... happiness.

They deserved it after all; each one deserved whatever moments of happiness they had, and I didn't want to take that away from them.

I discreetly turned my gaze back to the shadow singer, and a deep pain invaded my heart. There was no trace of Az's shadows, who was smiling at Elain in a way that felt very genuine. And she returned the gesture. Part of me could understand it, the sweet Elain, who could resist her? She was so delicate, so kind, and she had won everyone's heart.

She wasn't to blame for any of my feelings; she wasn't to blame for my secretly being in love with the shadow singer for over three hundred years and never having told him. That was my fault.

"Maybe you should stop looking at the window as if it were your enemy, or it will think you really hate it" Cassian joked beside me.

I turned my gaze to him and smiled slightly.

"I didn't see you at training today," said as he gently squeezed my arm as a show of affection. I shrugged, feigning indifference. "I wasn't feeling well."

Lie. I hadn't gone because it hurt to look at Az; I knew he would be there, and I... well, maybe it wasn't entirely a lie; I did feel a little unwell. Not physically, of course.

Cassian put an arm around my shoulder and looked at me with concern. "Is everything okay?"

No. Yes.

I forced a smile on my face, convincing enough not to ruin his evening. "Yes, Cass. It's nothing," I downplayed it. "A little food will cheer me up." Cassian smiled slightly, but the concern didn't vanish from his eyes.

I had never told anyone about my crush on Az. No one. And I supposed I had hidden it enough not to raise suspicions.

"Well, I'll tell them it's time to eat, or you'll get grumpy," he said. I laughed a little as I nudged Cassian lightly. Minutes later, we were all seated in the dining room.

Rhys had sat next to me, followed by Feyre. "May I know why you've become so lazy that we now need to schedule an appointment to see you?" a voice spoke in my mind. I smiled without looking at Rhys as I served myself some salad. "I have a very busy schedule, High Lord," I replied aloud. Rhys raised an eyebrow, but he didn't press further.

Grateful that he didn't ask more questions, I looked up only to meet Az's eyes staring at me intently. I smiled slightly as I watched his shadows swirl behind him and coil around one of his round ears.

Okay, maybe I had been avoiding everyone a little, it's just that I didn't want to infect them with my bad mood. And I didn't want to hurt myself more by seeing Az with Elain.

The shadow singer continued to look at me, and I furrowed my brow. "Do I have something?" I asked. "Aside from a bad mood, nothing," Cassian teased as I kicked him under the table before hissing. Nesta chuckled softly.

The conversation flowed slowly; everyone conversed with everyone, and I simply listened. I enjoyed the naturalness with which Feyre laughed at a bad joke from Cassian and the way Rhys howled when Amren teased him afterward. I even enjoyed the dessert Elain had prepared, complimenting her on how delicious it had been. But I never looked at the shadow singer. I didn't want to torture myself anymore; I didn't want to hurt my heart anymore when I thought about how much I longed to be close to him. So, for my own sake, I resisted sneaking glances at him.

Then something Rhys said caught my attention. "... happened on the outskirts of an Illyrian camp. It ended in the death of four females." Horrified, I looked at him. "I didn't get any coherent or hole-free answers about what might have actually happened," anger emanated from him, from the rage that tinged his voice, I could assume he was quite frustrated with the situation. Feyre put her hand on his, trying to reassure him.

My friends deserved peace; they deserved these moments of peace. So, I didn't think twice before offering myself. "I'll go, Rhys."

"No," Az said quickly, his voice firm.

Cassian looked at him but didn't say anything, apparently in agreement.

Maybe it was anger that surged through my spine and made me act like an idiot. "I wasn't asking for permission," I spat out each word slowly. The shadow singer tensed as he frowned, the shadows behind him stirring. "It's very dangerous."

This time it was definitely anger boiling under my skin; I wanted to go on this mission so they could continue to be at peace, but also to get away from him. I needed a break from thinking about his eyes, from thinking that every part of him seemed beautiful to me. Even the hands he hated. "I'm old enough to make that decision," I simply said.

"I'll go with you."

I felt my whole-body tense.

"No" Az gave me a hurt look, and I regretted behaving like this, but I needed to get away. To distance him. "I can do this alone; the others need you here," I added quickly.

"Rhys," I called. He looked at me a little indecisive, debating whether to side with his brother or mine. He looked at Feyre, and I guessed they had a conversation mind to mind as they usually did when they had to make a decision.

"Alright. But you'll report in every day," Feyre concluded. I smiled gratefully, and she returned the gesture, although concern also shone in her eyes.

The room filled with tension.

"She's not a spy," Az declared with a frosty look.

"Enough, Azriel," I said irritably.

Why did he insist so much on this? I was perfectly capable of doing it. I had gone on more dangerous missions and come out unscathed. This shouldn't be so complicated, and I felt that justice needed to be served for those four dead females. Cassian cleared his throat, bringing me back to reality in my seat, and I looked at Rhys with a polite smile. "I'll leave at dawn tomorrow. You'll get a report in the evening,"

Rhys nodded, and dinner ended without any further incident. However, I felt the intense gaze of the shadow singer on me for the rest of the night, until I fell asleep on the couch while some continued to drink.

In the midst of unconsciousness, I felt warm hands lift me up and a hard chest brush against my body. Drowsily, I buried my head in the crook of the neck of the one carrying me and relaxed when a familiar pine scent enveloped me. He gently laid me down on the large bed and took off my shoes almost reverently.

I might have imagined it, but I clearly felt how before leaving, he placed a kiss on my hair and closed the door, leaving me engulfed in darkness.

#acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #bat boys #i dont know what im doing #Spotify

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reiincarnatiion · 9 months

Text

shadows of destiny | azriel x reader | part one

summary : 3 sisters for 3 brothers....right? Azriel believes wholeheartedly that Elain should be his mate and in doing so ignores his deep feelings for you.

🧚‍♀️

a/n : I haven't written in like 6 years since my draco malfoy and kpop fanfictions HAHA so please forgive me I am rusty!! Also I wrote this on my phone eeee

but finally eee I'm so excited to post my first writing on tumblr !! I was always a quotev and wattpad girly but here I am finally... 💗

just writing some rough short stories rn but I'll def write more as I get more comfortable again and into the rhythm! let me know what you think please 🫶🏼

ps: it's not proof read cuz I'm lazy I'm so sorry so please ignore mistakes dearies

-----🩷🧚‍♀️💗------

You watched as Azriel bent down to whisper something into Elains ear and you felt a growl beginning to build up in your throat.

You didn't know the mating bond did this ; make one so possessive and jealous that the half-moon nail marks on your palms had become blood red, from gripping your fists too strongly.

"I just don't understand why you can't tell him," a voice whispers next to you. You turn to acknowledge Mor, as she slips in next to you into the booth.

"Because the moment I do, this whole dynamic changes Mor," you whisper back, indicating to the sprawl of people around you.

You guys had come to Rita's once again, to party, drink, kiss and do other nonsense things Cassian had eagerly talked about, whilst pitching the idea to the group. It had started off fun, with everyone talking together but as the night had progressed, they had all paired off. You could see Feyre and Rhys making out in the corner of your eyes and Nesta and Cassian dancing around each other on the club floor. Elain and Azriel had also innocently gotten up and moved to another table, using a range of excuses you hadn't bothered to process.

Even Mor had a female making eyes at her from afar.

"Then change the dynamic, Y/N. I need some excitement in my life," she whispered furiously again and slid out, stalking to the female at the bar.

Groaning you sunk into the booth, left alone to your thoughts plagued by one thing only, Azriel.

The repetitive music slowly faded out, as you downed drink after drink, watching the others around you mingle and grind away into the depths of the night. They would come past your table and say a few words before being dragged away again.

But not once did he come. Not once did he even look in your direction... and it infuriated you.

"You look more miserable than me,"

You blinked, looking up to focus in on the flop of red hair, braids and whizzing metallic eye and a handsome jawline.

"Lucien!!!" you let out a whine, attempting to get up but falling back down in the process, not having realised how much strong alcohol you had consumed in the last hour.

"Woah there stargirl," he slipped in next to you, using the nickname only he used for you.

Lucien and you had met on Starfall, as you had been leaning on the balcony, apparently being half a second from falling over because of your drunk eagerness to "catch one of the stars", and since then, he had named you Stargirl. Your friendship had blossomed due to your matching humour and desire to travel the realms.

His shoulder pressed up against you, his warmth spread through you, making you feel giddy. You couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or your desperation, as you abruptly laid a hand on his thigh.

If he noticed, he didn't show it as he took a swig of one of the elixirs that you had in your hand.

As he drank, you watched his eyes zero in on his elusive mate and you swore you saw them darken.

His scent visibly changed as he placed the now empty cup back on the table with a lethal fluidness that had you wondering how good he was at controlling his emotions.

"Its a shame we are mated to the wrong people, otherwise you and I would have ruled the world" he whispers, still not looking at you.

Your breath catching in your throat, your heavy heart pangs with emotion, exaggerated from the effects of the ethanol.

"At least she knows you are her mate Lucien... he doesn't even know about me," you miserably mutter.

You feel Luciens hot gaze rest on you as you look up into his deep eyes.

There's no doubt the turmoil of seeing each other's mates together shines in both of your eyes, but behind the pathetic nature of the situation, a force glint shines through his.

"Then why don't we tell him, Y/N," he urges, a smirk growing on his face.

Your heart drops as you make eye contact with Lucien, his eyes glinting with jealousy and anger.

You had never seen Lucien ever break his calm facades, he always would take whatever Elain would throw at him ; why was he so fired up tonight?

"You have always been so kind to Elain and given her time Lucien, why do you want to make her jealous now?" you voice your thoughts, causing him to look away, as you attempt to search his eyes.

Little did you know or feel, the dark cool gaze that had been assessing you since the moment Lucien had slipped in.

If one were to look through your party at this moment in time, the looks of longing and jealously swirling between you and Lucien could easily have been interpreted as longing and hunger for each other. With now, your full body turned to him, intimately touching him, shoulder to shoulder, anyone could mistake you as a couple.

---

Azriel nodded patiently as he listened to Elain talk about the new plants she wished to acquire from the Dawn Court for her garden.

He was trying so hard to listen and be attentive, but it was difficult when his shadows were buzzing about him, even more frantically, with the effects of the alcohol he had been consuming throughout the night.

He knew the amount of pumps of the vanilla perfume you had sprayed onto yourself, he knew how many times you had sighed throughout the night and he knew of the half-moon marks on your hands. His shadows told him everything, even when he didn't want to know.

For he didn't want to know the looks Lucien and you were giving each other, he didn't want to acknowledge the clenching of your thighs or the hand on your thigh or the-

"-So what do you think Azriel?"

Elains sweet voice cut in deeply through his silent spiralling, as he hummed coming back to the present.

Her big doe eyes innocently looked up at him as he racked his brain for what she had been asking about.

"YES I think the plants would be wonderful-," he began, when his shadows started screaming, "Elain excuse me one moment."

He quickly got up, his eyes narrow and jaw clenching as he went to get out of the booth in haste.

Elains eyes followed him and they widened slightly.

Luciens' hands were on your waist, holding you up from behind, as you both made your way to the dance floor, giggling.

---

read [ part two ] here deariess <3

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readychilledwine · 3 months

Note

So I saw a post on Tumblr that read:

“Imagine getting fucked from behind in a broom closet of the house of wind by Rhysand, his fingers in your mouth and his breath against your ear whispering “quiet down pet, you don’t want Feyre to catch us huh?”

And I am so desperate for a fic inspired by this. 👀

I love Feysand so, so much, but the thought of this did something to me.

I love your work so I immediately came to you. If you write it, thank you!!! If not, thank you anyway bc I love all of your work!! Ok byeeeee

.......alright you got me....

Extramarital Escapes

Warnings - smut, affair, slightly dub/con, abuse of power on Rhysand's end

A/n - I don't normally enjoy the idea of an affair and cheating, but I turned this into something I can work with.

This was wrong.

So very wrong.

You gasped as Rhys hit that spot inside of you again, growling as you clenched around him.

This was not what you had in mind when he hired you to be their live-in nanny. It had started innocent enough. Rhys would seek out your company when Feyre would head into Velaris. There were short glances, a soft touch to reach around you at times. Those touches slowly became longer, though. They lingered on your waist, the sides of your thighs, your arms. You had thought you were imagining it until Feyre's first trip out of the Court with Nyx.

"Have a drink with me?" He had stopped you from sorting the heir's clothing, tilting your head up to look at him. "They say you aren't supposed to drink alone, Darling."

You had agreed, following him to the cigar room you knew even Feyre never entered. It was his sanctuary. His place to be alone. She had her studio. He had this.

That one drink turned into him getting closer to you on the couch, cornering you between him and it. He tipped the wine back further as you took a sip, trying to get you to relax with this dangerous look in his eyes.

You were pinned below him an hour later, drunk and begging him to fuck you harder, to let you cum. All while he smiled above you, eyes blown out in lust, saying over and over again that you felt exactly like he imagined.

You had told him the next morning it was a one-time thing, that it would never happen again, regardless of if you wanted it to happen. The High Lord simply smirked, undressing you with his eyes all over again. "We will see."

He cornered and took you anytime he wanted after that.

On his desk after Feyre would fall asleep.

On the table when she was out of the house and Nyx was down for a nap.

In your room during the dead of night when he decided his wife wouldn't satisfy his need to feel complete control and power over someone.

You had told him this morning that you were done. If he continued to touch you after this, you would tell Azriel, Cassian, or Feyre, believing one of them would protect you from him.

You loved Nyx and he was why you had put up with being Rhysand's whore for so long, but you needed it to end. You needed the guilt to stop eating you alive at night. You knew you were worth more, are worth more.

Rhysand had again smiled. "You love your job, don't you, y/n?" You nodded, eyes watering. "And in your contract, it is stated your job is to ensure the happiness of my family, correct?" You nodding again. "Then I suppose if you are not willing to fulfill that obligation, I should find a new nanny."

He knew he had you as you took a shaky breath, tears rolling down your face at the idea of never seeing his son again. "I'd hate to take him away from you. He loves you so much, and it is so very clear you love him."

"Rhys, please," you felt him pull you to him, slotting you between his legs as he sat on his desk. "I just can't keep being a mated males whore."

His face softened, hand moving to hold your chin. "You are not my whore. You are my escape. If you do not want that, if you do not want to be loved by me, then we have so few options."

You looked up and away from him. "I just want to take care of Nyx. Like I was hired to do."

"Then you do so on my conditions."

That was how you found yourself, chest pressed against the wall in an unused broom closet. The High Lord pounding you from behind, his fingers down your waiting throat to silence your cries.

You felt your eyes roll back, moaning loudly as you sucked those digits. His other hand was on your clit, circling the bundle of nerves in time with each heavy drag of his cock. "Shush," he growled in your ear. "Gotta be quiet, darling. You wouldn't want Feyre to catch us, would you?" He nipped your pointed ear, causing your walls to twitch around him. "Acting like you don't love my cock inside of you this morning, but now here we are. Sure, it feels like you love it when I'm inside of you. Don't you?"

You could only nod, eyes squeezing shut and moaning more as his hips met the plush skin of your ass over and over, driving into you again and again.

You could feel your orgasm building waiting for him to give the command to let go, and suddenly, he stopped. Pulling out of you and slapping your aching cunt. "This is your punishment for trying to end things with me," he whispered into your ear. "If you're a good girl the rest of the day, maybe I will let you cum tonight when she goes to Rita's with the girls."

He left you there, wet and aching for him in that broomcloset. You sunk down the wall, head falling to your knees.

A few hours later, you had finally gotten Nyx down for the night. You sighed, heading to Rhysand's office to let him know the heir was sleeping, that you would tend to him during the night since Feyre was gone, but two hushed voices had you stopping.

"You have to tell her," a feminine voice stated. "I don't want her to quit over this. Nyx loves her, Rhys."

"I know," Rhysand's voice was barely audible. "She tried today. I had to manipulate her into staying before I fucked her in the broom closet. You were supposed to catch us and join us."

You covered your mouth, hiding the gasp you made before standing silently. Feyre sighed on the other side of the door, "I got busy. Azriel had reports, and he was looking for you. I had to lie to him, Rhys. I don't want to keep lying to our family about her and what she is to us."

"Then let's replan it for next week. Since you are supposed to be out of the house. I wanted to give her the weekend off. I'm scared if I do now, she won't come back."

You walked away, having heard enough information, yet not enough all at the same time.

You could not tell if you were angry, excited, curious. You went to your room, closing and locking the door.

As you bathed, the side of you that hated games began to emerge, and you began a plan of your own. In that moment, you decided one thing, if Rhysand and Feyre wanted to play, you'd play too.

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager

Rhys tag list:

@tothestarsandwhateverend

💜 If you would like to be added to my general taglist, or a character specific one, let me know 💜

#acotar #acotar x reader #send asks #send anons #rhys acotar #rhys x reader x feyre #rhys x reader #feysand x reader #feyre acotar #rhysand x reader #feysand #rhys x you #rhys x y/n

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azriels-shadowsinger · 3 months

Text

Game Night (Azriel x Reader)

summary: You and Azriel have been kinda flirty for a while, but it has never actually gone anywhere. When game night turns into strip poker… well i’m sure you can guess where this is gonna go.

wc: 1.5k

a/n: i haven’t written anything in a long while bc ive been kinda very depressed so this may suck. also thank yall so much for 200 followers!!

!!warning: suggestiveness at the end.

The males should have known it was a bad idea when you four females insisted on the game. Mor had oh so innocently suggested a game night, after which Nesta randomly got the idea to play poker out of nowhere, followed by immediate approval from you and Feyre. Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel had wrongfully assumed that you all had suddenly gained interest in the game and wanted to learn for fun, so they agreed.

The night started out wholesome. You were ‘learning’ the basic rules of the game while losing a decent amount of money. As expected, Rhys was trying to help Feyre as she kept losing money to his brothers. After several rounds of defeat and many more rounds of drinks, the males started to notice that you four were losing less and less. Actually… you were all holding the majority of the chips by this point. Azriel, in his usual perceptive manner, accused you four of cheating and hustling them. You and Mor couldn’t help but break out laughing.

“I’m sorry! It was just too easy!” You said between giggles.

“Especially when Rhys started telling Feyre his cards in her mind so she wouldn’t lose, which she immediately told to us!” Mor laughed loudly. Feyre gave a sheepish grin and Nesta only smirked while pulling her most recent winning to her pile. Rhys, Cass, and Az couldn’t help but to laugh, commending you for being able to trick them. Cassian, however, insists that they were going easy on you the whole time.

“Well, it’s on now. No more holding back, right boys?” Cassian says with a smug grin while dealing new cards to the table.

“It shouldn’t be too hard to win, now that I figured out each of their tells.” Azriel stated matter of factly while peaking at his cards. His shadows swirl around him, blocking anyone from being able to see the hand he was dealt.

“Oh really? You think you can tell when we’re bluffing? I think you’re overestimating those spy abilities, Az. You haven’t called any of my bluffs correctly so far.” He shrugs. “I think we may need to make this game more interesting since you three claim you’re going to actually try now. I’m thinking we raise the bets to-“

“Let’s play strip poker!” Cassian bellows, obviously drunk, and cutting you off before you can say anything else. Rhys exchanges a look with Feyre. “I think that Feyre darling and I are going to retire for the night before we lose more of our money or our clothes. Goodnight everyone!” He laughs. They throw their cards on the table and winnow away, leaving just you, Nesta, Mor, Azriel, and Cassian at the table.

Cassian stares expectantly at Nesta. “Cmon, Nes! Say you’ll play!” She sighs dramatically and agrees. “Fine. Only if Y/N, Mor, and Azriel all agree to play too.” Your face turns red. While you don’t doubt your poker abilities, the thought of stripping in front of Azriel… or worse, seeing him half naked, makes your heart race. You and Azriel have only ever gone as far as flirting with each other, but these Illyrians are always flirtatious, so you don’t think it means anything. Regardless, your mind wanders to the mental image of a shirtless Azriel, sparring in the training ring this morning. It’s always so hard not to stare. His abs, his arms, his wings…

“Y/N? Are you playing or not?” Mor questions, pulling you from your daydream. You realize everyone has agreed but you now.

“Sure, whatever.” You say quieter than before, still slightly blushing. You look at your cards nervously, praying to the Cauldron for a good hand. Luckily, you get it. The round goes on, and eventually Cassian is the first to lose an item of clothing, opting to lose his shirt and making a big display of removing it.

An hour later, you have all had several more drinks, everyone has discarded a couple items of clothing (except for Cassian who was down to only his boxers and his left sock), Mor got tired and left, and you were focusing way too closely on one of your poker chips in an attempt to not stare at Azriel.

Cassian flips the last card and… it’s not what you need. You bite your lip nervously, pushing several chips to the middle of the table while trying to maintain a confident façade. “I raise.”

Cassian and Nesta both fold, leaving just you and Azriel. You feel his eyes on you, probably trying to tell if you’re bluffing. Your skin heats under his gaze. Trying to appear more confident, you meet his stare, only to notice he’s not staring at your face, but rather a bit lower. You blush and Cassian clears his throat. “Uh, your move, Az.” Azriel immediately looks away, staring back at his cards.

“Um, I fold.” He mutters and tosses his cards on the discard pile, and you can’t help but notice the way his other hand is clenching and flexing under the table.

“Y/N wins! Az, looks like you’re down to your boxers now!” Cassian slurs slightly. Your eyes go wide and you give a panicked look to Nesta.

“Cass, I think it’s time for us to head home. I’m tired.” She gives him a look that he obviously must recognize because he is very quick to leave, obviously excited to get home. They say goodbye and head out, leaving just you and Azriel.

You stand to gather your things, but Azriel stops you. “Are we done playing, sweetheart?” You feel his eyes trail down your half-exposed body.

“You can keep your pants on, Shadowsinger. It’s late and I’m drunk. Plus, if we play another round then one of us will end up a bit more naked than friends should be around each other.” You laugh awkwardly. Azriel’s eyes darken slightly and he leans in to whisper in your ear. “Scared you’ll lose?” You shudder at the closeness and the feeling of his breath on you.

“No. I just don’t think you want me to find out that the wingspan theory isn’t true.” You quip back with a raised eyebrow. He lets out a short laugh and sits back down. “Deal the cards.” He says smugly.

You deal the cards, trying to ignore the tension thick in the air. What the hell is he doing? How are you supposed to act friendly and hide your feelings if you see him naked? How is he going to react if he sees you without a bra? You deal the last card and look at your hand. Not terrible, but definitely not great. You bite your lip nervously. The round plays out and it’s time to place the final bets. You make your bet and then look to Azriel, biting your bottom lip nervously. He studies his cards, then sets them down to look at you.

“You wanna know something, Y/N?” He picks up a poker chip and spins it between his fingers. Gods, those fingers. “You bite your lip when you’re nervous. Did you know that?” You freeze. “And while it has been rather advantageous to know when you’re bluffing this whole game, I do find it kind of cute.” He slides all of his chips into the middle pile. “I knew you were bluffing the last round. And I know you are now too.” His voice is low and full of confidence. Your face is completely red now as he flips his cards over. Royal flush.

You turn your cards over in defeat and he grins. “I win.” He says smugly. He stands and saunters towards you, caging you between his arms in your chair. You look up at him, and you can see the silent question in his eyes. Is this okay? You nod softly and he smirks.

“As the winner, I think it’s only fair that I get to claim my prize. May I?” He gently slides your bra strap down your shoulder. This is actually happening. Weeks of flirty words and lustful glances, leading to whatever is about to happen.

“Rules are rules.” You maintain eye contact and reach behind to unclasp your bra. He grabs your wrist, guiding it back down and reaching behind you himself. His fingers softly trail up your spine, leaving goosebumps behind, before he reaches the clasp and unhooks it. Your bra falls to the floor and Azriel’s eyes roam over you hungrily.

“Gods, you are even more beautiful than I imagined.” He gently guides you to stand, walking you back to the wall and pressing you against it. “I have wanted to do this for so long.” He whispers against your skin before moving his lips to yours. He kisses you with no restraint. One hand cups your face while the other moves up your side. You melt into his touch, savoring his taste. A small moan leaves your mouth, causing him to growl softly.

Azriel pulls away for a moment to say something, but before he can, you hear footsteps in the hall. Quickly, you rush to grab your clothes before anyone can see you. Moments later, whoever it was walks past the room towards the kitchen. You let out a breath, continuing to get dressed.

You give a look to Azriel, who had already managed to get fully dressed somehow. He can read the question in your eyes. Now what? Azriel reaches out a scarred hand toward you. “We can keep playing the game in my room.” He smirks. You take his hand and you two quickly head out, leaving the cards and poker chips on the table.

idk what this was. honestly it was a WIP from months ago and i’m not sure if I love how it ended up but whatever i just am trying to write again :)

#acotar #acotar fanfic #azriel #azriel acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #acotar fic #bat boys #my writing

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mulansaucey · 3 months

Text

Drunk Words, Sober Thoughts.

Azriel x Reader

Prompt: Rita has a new supply of Moonshine and gives a jar to the IC. This creates a blacked out drunk Azriel.

Warnings: alcohol use, flirting, suggestive, mentions of sex, drunken behavior. Let me know if I left anything out.

Note: Literally sitting in bed when I had this idea. This is just for fun and I hope you enjoy!

Music playing in the halls of Rita’s surrounds the Inner Circle as well as laughter. Shot glasses banging against their table, squeals of joy from seeing the glasses of those pretty cocktails that Feyre and Mor like so much, and the beautiful smile that graces my mates face. Tonight is for fun and bonding.

Azriel has been on a month long mission just returning to me a few days ago where we cooped up in our cozy home, enjoying the song of our mating bond before returning to society. When he’s gone, there’s a hole in my chest. Color, music, art becomes void. Life is not as exciting without him by my side. Even after decades of being married and mated the bond is still alive and thriving as if it was still the night he took a bite out of that meal I made him to accept him as my mate.

I’m an accomplished fae. I’ve strategized wars, wrote countless books on the plant life of Prythian that has helped healers cultivate new medicines, and have helped the Inner Circle for almost two centuries now. When he’s away, I keep myself occupied and have my job to thank for that but that aching feeling doesn’t go away.

That’s the strength of a mating bond, it brings males to their knees. It brought Azriel to his. Our souls submitting to one another and refusing to settle for anything less than each other.

“What’s so interesting, love?” Azriel teases as I can’t my eyes off him. Those hazel eyes trail over me, even in the haze of faelights it feels like he can see every inch of me. He bites his lip as if he’s recalling just a few hours ago when he was biting the meat of my thighs. I know I am. Heat rises in my cheeks as he laughs and leans down to the leg of my chair and pulls me closer to him. The bond between thrums with satisfaction that our beings are even closer now. His hand finds the back of my neck and he caresses.

“You, my heart. I can’t seem to take my eyes off of you.” I tease him back.

The shots making my mind looser and my flirty tendencies arise. I’m a horny drunk when it comes to this male. Who wouldn’t?

Azriel raises his brows and smirks. He leans down to press a sweet kiss then pulls back.

“You are lovely in this dress. I can’t wait to rip it off you tonight.” He says as he presses sweet kisses along my cheek and jaw.

“Azriel you better not! It’s embarrassing having to keep going to the tailor because you have no self control.”

“Self control? We’ll see how much self control I have later, you’ll begging for me I promise you that.” He laughs.

Suddenly a heavy presence can be felt behind us. I don’t even have to turn to know it’s Cassian.

He slaps the back of Azriel’s chair and loudly yells, “Stop the heavy petting and come to the bar, Rita just got a new drink called ‘Moonshine’ it’s apparently a lot stronger than any wine or whiskey.”

Cassian doesn’t wait for an answer and picks me up while yelling over his shoulder, “If you want her, Az you gotta come get her!” We leave a trail of giggles as my grumpy mate follows.

Azriel trusts his brother and knows Cassian just missed him and wants to have fun. It’s why he doesn’t cut off his hands for touching my body.

Cassian drops me on a bar stool and leans over to drop a sloppy kiss to Nesta’s cheek as she bats him. From the corner of my eye though I can see her pulling him back to her to give him a proper kiss. I’m happy for my friends as they had a very tumultuous start to their mate ship. As I’m trying not to be nosy in my friends business Azriel comes to stand behind me, strategically blocking me from any other males or females view. Azriel is selfish when it comes to me. I can’t blame him, he’s waited centuries for me. And I him.

Rita walks up to us with a jar of clear liquid. It looks innocent, like water, but knowing her that liquid will make you regret ever being born. But that’s the appeal to Rita. She knows how to have fun and has quality supply.

“Alright ladies and gentlebats this is Moonshine. It’s technically whiskey but its process makes the alcohol stronger and you drunker quicker. I will give you a shot, on the house, if you like it I’ll sell a jar to you. This stuff is no joke and illegal in some courts. More recently our High Lord and Lady gave me the okay to produce it.” Rita winks to Feyre and Rhys.

We all look over them and Rhys shrugs, “Feyre wanted to try it, I couldn’t say no.”

We all laugh at the lack of ability our friend has to say no to his wife. I see Feyre eye the glass with excitement.

“Feyre you do the honors of first shot!” I yell out as she takes the glass and downs it in one gulp.

She freezes and we wait on bated breath. Her eye twitches and she gives a full body shiver. We break in laughter at her funny reaction as she immediately takes her fruity cocktail from Rhys, who was mid sip, and takes a few gulps.

Feyre’s face twist in disgust as she tells us, “That’ll definitely get you fucked up, I feel like I’ve grown chest hair.”

Laughter fills our area again. Rhys presses a kiss against Feyre’s head as he reaches for his own shot glass. Each of us besides Amren and Varian, who are currently in Summer, reach for our own. I clank my shot glass against Azriel’s and down my shot. I immediately regret this decision as pure alcohol burns my throat. It’s worse than the tonics Madja gives us. At least we get some what rewarded for that. I put my glass down and look over at my mate. His free hand softly rubbing my upper back, he downs the shot and smack his lips.

“It’s definitely strong but I don’t mind it.” Azriel says to the group.

I pout at him and say, “Of course it doesn’t bother you, Shadowsinger.” He rolls his eyes and moves his hand from the back of my neck to the front. Slowly moving my head back so far I have no choice but to look at him and only him.

“It’s Shadowsinger now is it?” He smirks down at me. Before I can reply peanuts that Rita supplies generously across her bar are being pelted at us. Azriel loosens his hold on me as we both turn to our family.

“You two are like bunnies, I feel like I need to spray you two with a bottle of water.” Nesta says.

I gasp and laugh out, “Like you have any room to talk! The House of Wind is contaminated with you and Cassian’s fluids.” All I get is more peanuts being thrown at me. The two of us dissolve into giggles as I throw them back at her. Cassian and Azriel having to take it away.

Cassian then turns his attention to Rita watching us in amusement.

“We’ll take a jar please, you always know how to make me feel good.” He winks at her. Rita rolls her eyes and passes him the jar.

“I’m charging you extra for that little stunt.” She says back to him.

“Oh c’mon that was a compliment! You’ve got the best stuff in the city.” He argues as Nesta shushes him. Nesta opted out of drinking, instead preferring to smoke mirthroot.

We all go back to our designated booth empty shit glasses in tow. We decide to play truth or drink. Azriel being the secretive person he is rather take the shot then tell the truth. I have a feeling he just wants to indulge the rare drink. I don’t blame him, he works hard for his court and he’s allowed to drop his inhibitions. Ever since we’ve gotten together I’ve taught him about self care and allowing one self to enjoy the moment. The centuries of training and spy work are still instilled in him, something even I can’t take away. But with the love of his mate and family he’s allowed himself to be happy.

I didn’t like the moonshine so I stuck to my cocktails then water, as I had a feeling someone needed to be more sober than the others. Azriel takes his eighth shot when he freezes. I still, looking around to see if anything was amiss. When I look back at him I see him smiling.

“You are a rare jewel.” He says so casually. Looking at me like I’m the only person in the world. He reaches over to brush my hair out of my eyes when instead he pokes me. This clumsy move tells me, he’s drunk. He giggles as I jump back slightly from a literal finger poking my eye.

“I’m so sorry love. Wow your skin is so soft.” Azriel starts touching my face in fascination. He then pulls me into his strong embrace. The awkward is angle but he just sighs constantly. Happy to be holding me. He starts petting my hair as if I’m a cute kitten.

The confused yet amused looks across the table have me pulling back from my mates embrace when he loudly says, “Noooooo, don’t leave me. I was so comfortable.”

I can hear and see Rhys and Cass laughing and clutching each other. Azriel RARELY gets drunk. I feel bad, maybe I should’ve limited how much he could drink since it’s not his usual stuff. Azriel has a fairly high tolerance for his usual whiskey or beer. Eight shots of his regular choice of drink would be nothing but him drinking moonshine has him reacting differently. I feel a little guilty but Azriel has carried me home and taken care of me plenty of times. Tonight I promise myself to return the favor.

“I know my heart, but I need a glass of water and so do you. I’ll be right back, I promise.” I caress his face and he looks at me with so much love I almost don’t want to go even if it’s a few minutes.

“Okay, hurry back. Take a shadow.” He says with a pout. A shadow always sticks with me regardless of his command or not. I shove my love down our bond for his thoughtfulness. Azriel gives me a goofy grin and pushes his love down to me.

“I need a drink, c’mon. Lover boy will be just fine.” Feyre says as she drags me away from my mate.

His eyes trailing after me until Cass and Rhys grab his shoulders to get his attention. Knowing my mate is in safe hands has me turning to Feyre. We talk a little about her art studio and Nyx. She confesses to having a bit of Mom guilt when she goes out. The alcohol making her a bit weepy from missing her son. I distract her by dragging her to the dance floor, after checking to make sure Azriel was still with the boys and has a glass of water.

After a few songs Mor and Nesta join us. I still keep an eye on my mate, making sure he’s okay and having fun. The next time I turn my eyes to him he’s gone. Panic fills my chest as I look around the bar for him. When I look up to the second floor I see him and his brother attempting to climb the rail. At that moment I decide it’s time to go home. I grab the girls and haul their asses the second floor before any of our mates cracks their skull open. The boys had way more moonshine than we did.

We successfully get them away from the railing, I grab Azriel’s face and he gently shoves me off of him. I frown at him, water lining my eyes at his rejection towards me. I go to ask him what’s wrong but before I do he tells me, “I am a mated male! You can not touch me.”

He sways a little grabbing onto Rhys for support. Rhys is already getting yelled at by his High Lady but she stops to turn to Azriel in amusement.

“What did he just say?” Feyre says to me. I stay silent for a moment realizing the situation. I slightly smile at my mates loyalty even though it is me who is touching him. I tell Feyre to grab Rhys and I can handle Azriel.

“Azriel, my heart. It’s me, I’m your mate.” I tell him gently helping him find his balance.

“I don’t want to go home with you. I want my mate. She will take care of me. I don’t need you.” As he’s still struggling to walk. I ignore him and help him down the stairs all the while he’s protesting insisting he has a wife and mate waiting for him at home. I roll my eyes fondly. Knowing it’s going to a rough walk home. He insists that I only touch his arm.

“I am a gentleman and my wife would be mad I let you walk home alone but I am not sharing a bed with you. She is only one I share my bed with. I love her.” He says to me, total seriousness.

I take a look at him noting his shirt is wrinkled from Cassian constantly grabbing onto him, his hair is wild, and his walk is staggered. I make a mental note to never let him drink Moonshine again. He trips slightly making me grab onto his back and front. He looks at me weirdly and takes my hands off his body.

“I don’t know youuuu. My body is reserved for my wife, I am fine with walking on my own.” His words are sloppy and he trips again. Laughing at him I ignore his protests and guide him to our shared home. The walk is a struggle as he keeps tripping yet insisting I keep my hands off him. I shove my love down the bond hoping he’ll recognize me that way. I feel more assured that even if I wasn’t with him and he was drunk he’d always come home to me. I hear him sigh with content and he lazily slaps his chest.

“This here, in my heart, she’s calling to me. I need to go home to her. I can feel her. I want to go home.” He pouts.

“Okay big guy, I’m gonna get you home to her. I’m sure she misses you.” I say, playing along. If I play along I’m hoping it’ll make him more amiable.

“She does! I can feel her even when I’m miles and miles away. I miss her too. Sometimes when I’m in the same room as her, I miss her. I just want her all to my self.” He confesses, I notice he’s started to slowly relax letting me guide him home. The thought of seeing me being his motivator. My heart is fluttering seeing him like this. Azriel is usually so smooth and calculated. His words to me sound like poetry, like a crafted song made just for me to hear. Now he’s confessing his love to, how he perceives, a stranger. Apart of me knows that he must know it’s me. Even if it’s deep down. But I can’t help but feel so special to him.

I finally spot our home, the sight of our porch makes me let an out a sound of relief.

Azriel looks to what I see and goes, “How do you know where I live? I don’t remember telling you. I wouldn’t have told you! I told you that I don’t want to go home with you.” He pushes himself away from me stumbling to our small gate. He struggled to unlock and me being exhausted from helping a 6’5 Illryian male slap his hands away and move to open it. He rubs his hand where I slapped and looks at me with a pout.

“Oh you’re okay! Stop being a baby and come inside please.” I tell him, laughing lightly at him. He moves to walk past me but turns before I can even take a step on the porch.

“This is as far as you can go. My wife will not be disrespected by having another female in our home.” He says with a serious face. The message isn’t as threatening since he’s still swaying and eyes glossed over. I smile at him and make a move to walk around him but he pushes his arms out, clumsily I might add, and repeats what he just said. I hold my arms up in surrender to this ridiculous statement.

“Azriel, my heart. I am your wife, you are mated to me. And I want to be in our bed and snuggle. Don’t you?” I ask giving him my best puppy dog eye. I don’t even know if it’ll work if the liquor made him forget who I was entirely. He goes to reply when he bends over to his side and pukes. I rush to his side and rub his back. He stand up again and leans against a pillar on our porch. His face smushed against it I can faintly hear.

“I want my mate…I’m not going home with you.” I roll eyes, trying not to get upset with him because it isn’t his fault and I know I’m not a doll to be around when I’m drunk. I walk towards our door, it unlocks automatically due to the ward Azriel insisted on placing. I try to gently push him inside. His wings knocking over a vase I was gifted from a past High Lord of Summer, I grimace as the antique lays broken on the floor. He looks around for what made the loud sound and he gasps loudly as if I was the one broken on the floor.

“My wife is going to kill me! Fuck, fuck, shit. Oh my gods I need to go to summer now! I need to go before she notices it’s broken.” He says making a move for the door. I immediately put a stop to that and drag him to our bedroom. I think he’s exhausted himself and flops down on the bed. Not making any moves. I start unlacing his boot and once I’ve got them off I go for his pants.

He slaps my hands away and goes, “I can undress myself. You have no right to touch me there! Go home before my wife finds you, she’ll kill you. My mate is verrrry possessive of me. She won’t like youuuu.” He sings at me.

He starts giggling and taking off his pants and shirt while moving to grab my pillow and holds onto it like it’s the answer of all his prayers.

“I miss her so much. I’m in bed but she isn’t here. It smells like her, I never want to smell anything again. Only her.” I make a face at him, I didn’t see how that makes sense but he’s drunk so I don’t question it. I make sure he has a glass of water and is tucked into bed before I make my move to join him. As soon as I start to move the cover he jolts back up, still clutching my pillow.

“Thank you for taking me home but I insist you take the couch. I will never share a bed with another female. I will not have our marriage bed tainted by a stranger.” He says eyeing me like I’m the King of Hybern resurrected.

“Enough, sweetheart. Tonight has been really funny and sweet but I want to sleep. Don’t you want to cuddle?” I say, I glance at the clock noting the late hour. He doesn’t make a move and stays silent. Giving me the answer I needed.

“As I stated you can take the couch as thank you but you have to leave before my WIFE comes home.” Azriel states, emphasizing the wife part as if I’m the drunken one.

“Okay I give up, I’m sleeping on the couch. Goodnight my love.” I say stealing a quick kiss from him that leaves him stuttering and blushing.

“Y-you just kissed me! That’s so rude, that’s-“ I close the door cutting off his rant. I go down the hall for our closet where we keep the extra blankets and pillows. I settle in our large and comfy couch that Azriel insisted on getting when we moved in. I’m now thankful he insisted. I start laughing recalling the night. Tonight was stressful but has shown me how loved I am. I have a male who’s loyal and kind. Even when he thought I was a stranger he wanted to walk me home so I wasn’t alone. I’m thankful to call him mine. I’m thankful to be his. I drift off to sleep with a soft smile, excited to tease him to no end in the morning for this stunt he pulled tonight.

——

Sunlight enters my home, the warmth of it caressing my cheek. I nuzzle closer to the warmth when I realize it’s Azriel’s hand. He’s sitting on the floor, his hair is a mess and he’s laying his head down close to mine. His eyes look groggy and I can tell he didn’t have a good sleep.

“Where were you last night? I couldn’t sleep without you.” He whispers gently, as if the sound of his own voice made his head ache.

I start laughing loudly, Azriel flinching back and rubbing his head. I start laughing so hard I start crying. My mate looks at me unamused.

“I’m sorry my love. But you literally kicked me out of our bed and made me sleep here. You insisted.” I tell him, laughter seeping through my words.

His mouth drops down in shock. He’s still rubbing his head and I feel bad so I start massaging his scalp the way I know he likes. I gets himself up off the floor and into my awaiting arms. Azriel secretly loves being the small spoon so I baby him and rub down his back and up into his scalp. The mating bond compelling me to make sure he’s okay and loved.

I start recalling the night for him. Apparently after that eighth shot he completely blacked out. He doesn’t remember a single thing from last night past that point. He grumbles and hides his face in my neck. His words coming out muffled.

“I’m so sorry. I hate not being in control like that. I’m sorry for treating you like that.” He says while pressing kisses on my neck and he squeezes me even tighter.

“It’s okay, you’ve taken care of me plenty of times when I’m drunk. I’m glad you were having fun and it was really sweet of you to defend my honor and our bond even if it was me. I love you so much for it.” I tell him making sure his eyes were on me. I cradled his face, caressing the scars and stubble that reside there. He leans down to give me soft kiss once, twice, three times before he nuzzles his nose against mine.

Azriel may be hard to read, stoic, and cold to everyone else but here, in the privacy and intimacy of our home he’s lovable and soft. A privilege to be able to see this of side. The decades of trust and memories helping him become a more loving person.

“How are you feeling though?” I ask him, he groans and lays his head down.

“I feel like absolute death. Actually death would be more merciful than what I’m feeling now.” My mate, the dramatic. I go to move to make him some tea and a light meal for his tummy but he just holds me tighter.

“Just stay for a little longer, I finally feel better now that I’m with you.”

Who am I to resist and say no? So I settle in and relishbeing with my mate and husband. Enjoying a quiet morning after such a loud night.

#azriel acosf #azriel fluff #azriel imagines #acotar funny #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel being drunk #inner circle #azriel acotar

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