#female fury

[submission4]

A Furious Woman 2

The angry young woman, having tracked down her betrayer into the forest where he is atttempying to hide out, makes it clear that the revenge she seeks is on behalf of all wronged women.

The guy, hands on hips like he has seen it all before, just smirks. “I suppose saying sorry once again won’t cut it this time, will it, doll?” he grins.

Huge mistake…

Source: Ekaterina Siurina in a production of Don Giovanni, available on YouTube

[thatsonemorbidcorvid]

[brownmexcellence]

Big Barda by Mark Brooks

[the-antiapocalyptic-man]

After Apokolips finally gained a version of Superman’s genome usable for their purposes, everyone in Uxas’ Court wanted their very own Kryptonian Hunger Dog. Granny of course had her own unique modifications to build a Kal-El suitable to serve as a Female Fury...

[assriels]

lessons in touch

pairing: azriel x f!reader

summary: azriel’s curiosity and penchant for spying reveals exactly why you’ve been more…enthusiastic in bed lately

word count: 5.8k :0

warnings: smut (not super detailed)!! 18+ mdni pls, az being nosy

a/n: this is one of my faves so far :’) i have this persistent silly headcanon that az is the biggest busybody of them all and that’s why he’s so good at his job

masterlist

banners by @/cafekitsune <3

Sex between you and Azriel was far from boring. It was a well known secret that Azriel had a predilection towards kink and experimentation, so your adventures with him between the sheets never left either of you dissatisfied. Far from it, actually.

Being with him was always pleasurable, wonderful, and unrivaled by any you’d had before him. During girls night, you had always attested to his prowess, said that his skills of observation extended past the battlefield and very much into the bedroom. And his wingspan…you would neither confirm nor deny whether the theory around Illyrian males and their wingspan was true, much to their chagrin, but the mischievous smirk that curled your lips was all they needed to confirm their suspicions.

Azriel was a skilled lover; he knew your ins and outs, understood almost innately how to coax pleasure from you with a simple, well placed brush of his fingers. More often than not, Azriel had you in a puddle on the floor before he could even take his pants off. Which, ordinarily, was a more than welcome skill — you loved how well he knew you, adored how he loved you so much that his brain was like a file cabinet of information about things you liked.

But you’d grown frustrated lately, more and more desiring to reduce Azriel to the same pleasure filled putty that he so often did with you. His composure was infuriatingly ironclad; you knew he felt the same primal, overwhelming desire that you did — such was the nature of the mating bond — but he was much better at masking it.

In short, you wanted to know what made him tick, what made him beg and whimper and plead with you to touch him. You’d been mated for a year now, and while his desire for you never waned, you had yet to find the one thing that made him sink to his knees and beg the way he so easily coaxed you to do for him.

It was no secret that your mate had a bold competitive streak. But your own stubbornness rivaled his own, leading to long, long card game nights and sparring matches — much to everyone else’s entertainment.

Though you knew you had no reason to feel such competitiveness when matters of the bedroom were concerned, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance that Azriel had so easily figured out how to make you squirm in a multitude of ways — with all your cards on the table — while you were still somewhat in the dark about his most favored bedroom inclinations. Azriel kept the secrets of his hand close to his chest.

So you vowed to yourself that you’d figure it out, test his composure to see how exactly to make that beautiful, calm countenance crack. It was like a game, but one you were more than willing to play and even more determined to win.

Ever the observer however, Azriel caught on to the changes in your excitement beneath the sheets, amusement and adoration coursing through his veins as he reveled in your sudden vigor, never shying away from a challenge.

You had been more experimental in your bedroom endeavors as of late, asking him to bend you this way and that, introducing things that he never thought you’d be interested in — not that he was complaining in the slightest. Though your differences were strikingly obvious, Azriel would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about where your sudden interest in various sexual niches had sprung from.

Initially, it was all fun and games; if you wanted to explore then so be it — he’d match you stroke for stroke every time. But eventually, his nosiness had wedged its way deep into each crevice of his mind until he was all-consumed, curiosity devolving into a burgeoning anxiety.

Was something wrong?

Azriel was positive that if you were bored you would tell him. Had you heard something from one of the others that spurred you to want to explore more? Had you felt as though you had to introduce novelty every time to please him?

You had to have known that was far from the truth; no matter your state, Azriel had always made it clear to you that you were the most exquisite creature he’d ever had the privilege of knowing, let alone laying with. He didn’t think there was anything wrong…at least not for him. Maybe you felt like something was missing.

“Penny for your thoughts, brother?”

Rhys’s voice snapped him out of his anxious musings. Azriel hadn’t realized that he was pacing so furiously he could have worn a hole through the floor. Both Rhysand and Cassian had been watching with amusement glinting in their eyes. After all, it was a rare sight to see their ordinarily calm and stoic shadowsinger so worked up.

The same poker face Azriel had worn to win countless games of cards against his brothers masked his features now, but the twitch in his brow and the near missable ruffling of his wings were tells that Cassian and Rhysand were well acquainted with.

The shadowsinger had never perfected his stone faced indifference when he was thinking of you.

Cassian ventured a guess, “Have you upset Y/N?”

Cassian had meant to tease, but the way Azriel stayed silent had his eyebrow arching in question. Azriel ignored the curious glance from his brother as his mind ran in circles once more.

Had he upset you? Was your sudden experimentation in bed some roundabout way of telling him that he had done something to hurt you? No, no…that didn’t make sense, he was being illogical.

Or…Had he somehow missed picking up on something that you liked?

Your sudden interest in sexual exploration was far from a problem, but he got the niggling sense that you were up to something, playing a game that he wasn’t privy to. And he wanted in.

Azriel was private by nature, never revealing more of his relationship with you than absolutely necessary to his brothers, not wanting to overshare in fear that he’d fall victim to their incessant teasing. But this…maybe it would be useful to get their opinions about your sudden change in interests? Cassian and Rhys were both mated males afterall, and maybe there was something Azriel was missing. He would never admit it to anyone but himself, but he fell victim to his crippling neuroticism more times than he’d like to. Curiosity and anxiety were two sides of the same coin.

So he indulged and told his brothers of your sudden vigor in bed, enthusiasm to try something new every single time. You’d been insatiable as of late and he didn’t know why; nothing had changed that he knew of and it was concerning him, he couldn’t stand not knowing.

“So,” Rhys started tentatively, narrowing his eyes in confusion, not quite grasping the issue that Azriel was so hesitant to endorse. “Y/N is trying new things in bed.”

And elsewhere, Azriel thought with a ghost of a smile on his lips. He’d leave that part out, though; Rhys probably wouldn’t appreciate knowing the details about the going-ons in the dining room of the townhouse. And the gardens. And the hallways.

“And you’re complaining?” Cassian asked, incredulous, similarly at a loss for his brother’s concern.

“I’m not complaining, Cass,” Azriel groaned and slumped unceremoniously into a chair (much like an irritated school child who’d been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to), immediately regretting his poorly thought out decision to confide in his brothers. “I’m just confused. I don’t know what she wants.”

“Have you considered asking her?” Rhys inquired, infuriatingly teasing smile curving his lips.

Azriel deadpanned and clicked his tongue, not believing that Rhys would assume he was so inept at communicating with his lover, “Of course I’ve asked. She just says nothing’s changed. I believe her, but it’s still bothering me and I don’t know why.”

Both Cassian and Rhys resisted the urge to laugh, mentally conversing about how Azriel’s affections for you often reduced him to an adolescent-like lovesickness, begging and willing to please. Az had been this way since they were children; fiercely competitive and subsequently pouty if he didn’t have the upper hand, always wanting to know and learn everything he could.

This side of the shadowsinger was one that did not make an appearance often, reserving itself until he was around the few he trusted wholeheartedly.

The past couple of centuries saw even less of this endearingly childish and competitive Azriel – even around his closest friends – as Night Court duties and his identity as Spymaster overshadowed most opportunities to be vulnerable in his relationships.

But when you came around, light began to spark beneath the shadowy depths of Azriel’s countenance as you slowly coaxed him to trust and love as fiercely as everyone knew he was capable of, with the reckless abandon that his childhood self so easily embodied.

“Maybe check her nightstand,” Cassian teased with a wink, only half joking, as a quiet happiness bubbled within him at the small glimpses of Azriel’s vulnerability. “Some of Nesta’s best kept secrets are hidden there.”

Before Azriel could furrow his brow and chastise his brother for snooping through his mate’s belongings, a realization hit him.

Nesta.

You had been spending an awfully large amount of time with the eldest Archeron sister in the library lately, choosing to hole up there in lieu of your other hobbies when you weren’t training or engaging in your various other Night Court duties.

But Nesta would be a dead end. There was no way he could approach her without tipping you off to his secret sleuthing. Though he and Nesta were friends, her loyalties laid with you; there was an unexplainable female camaraderie between you – a chosen sisterhood, if you will – and if he asked if she knew anything about what was going on, she’d go running to you, mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

The conversation with his brothers was about as helpful as he initially thought it would be, and he let himself succumb to their jokes about how wrapped around your finger he was. Azriel had endured it graciously, knowing better than anyone that they were right, that he was indeed wrapped so tightly around your little finger that he was unsure of where he ended and you began. That he would gratefully stay in the palm of your hand for as long as you would allow.

But that night, after you had told him not to wait up for you because you’d be having drinks with Feyre and Mor, Cassian’s voice reverberated insistently in his mind.

Check her nightstand…best kept secrets…

Azriel resisted the urge to snoop for all of ten minutes before his inherent nosiness clouded his judgment and got the better of him; afterall, his love for secrets is what made him such an effective spymaster. Before he knew it, he was rolling onto your side of the bed, inquisitive hands pulling open your bedside drawer.

Hidden among the small stack of books he had given you was a thick novel with a cover he recognized, but gave no second thought.

It was a book you said Nesta had lent you. When he asked if you liked it you said it was “only okay” and that you’d let him know if he should read it when you were finished. Despite your lukewarm review, however, it had never left your side, and he had found you on more than one occasion cozied up with it in your hands, cheeks dusted with a heat he knew all too well.

Azriel was well aware of the content of the books Nesta favored, often lending a reluctant ear to a whiny Cassian whenever she paid more attention to her books than him.

But there was no way your sudden excitement for novelty in the bedroom could be inspired by Nesta’s smutty recommendations…right? He leafed through, assessing hazel eyes quickly skimming the paragraphs, catching glimpses of the prose that had you so enraptured.

Azriel felt the back of his neck heat.

It was smut, as he assumed. But this was truly…filth. Pure, unadulterated, filthy smut.

Azriel was a lover of all books, never having been one to categorize or judge them by popular opinion. And, to be completely fair, he had read a decent amount of books filled with sex and romance.

But…he was sure that the acts detailed in this one would make even the Court of Nightmares’s debauchery look saintly. Even Azriel, who had been correctly assumed to be the kinkiest of the Inner Circle, felt tame in comparison to the words flickering across the pages of your book. How did you read this with such impassivity on your face?

Azriel snapped the book shut with such force the pages blew a cool, gentle breeze onto his heating face. He tried – and failed – to not picture you in the position the main character in your book was described in, unintentionally sending a soft hum of his burgeoning arousal down your bond. He was beginning to understand your desire to replicate the more salacious scenes detailed in your novels.

Having fun without me, Az? Came your teasing inquiry in his mind, as he meticulously replaced all of your belongings into your nightstand.

Don’t be nosy, he quipped back, extremely aware of the irony of his statement. And then after a beat he added, answering your question with a sincerity that never failed to grip your heart, Never without you, love.

You left him waiting for a response a little bit longer than you normally would as you attempted to control the thundering beat of your heart in your chest. You were convinced that no amount of time could ever diminish the effects that Azriel’s blatant display of love had on your composure. As much as he was wrapped around your little finger, you were just as tightly wrapped around his.

I take back what I said earlier, wait up for me.

Azriel smirked to himself, feeling a flare of triumph, It’s a date, then. Maybe I’ll find something interesting to read in the meantime.

If you caught on to his sly insinuation, you did not let on, just continued bantering with him for a few moments before returning your full attention to your friends, who were no doubt attempting to extract morsels of information from your obviously lascivious exchange with your lover.

But that night – even after Azriel had promptly fucked you into a blissful oblivion – had yielded no more information about your recent proclivity for finding a new kink, so Azriel did what he did best and spied.

He kept a watchful eye on the books you read, and tracked the times you asked him to try something new. He spent more time in the library than necessary under the guise that Rhys had put him up to some research.

Which was only half of a lie. He was in there to do reconnaissance, yes, just not for Rhys.

Azriel scanned the bookshelves for anything that seemed like it had been recently replaced, pages still clinging to the sweet scent of your skin. A title he recognized caught his eye and he slotted it out of place, flipping through the pages to confirm his suspicions.

This book was shorter than the others he’d seen you carry around, but certainly no less obscene. A smirk pulled at Azriel’s lips as he read a dog eared chapter that you had clearly marked for inspiration, recollections of your most recent tryst in his office flooding his awareness.

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You had sauntered into his small, private study at the House of Wind, short dress skimming the curves of your thighs as you bent to greet him with a kiss to his cheek. He’d been distracted at the time — surveying maps and cross referencing with ancient textbooks — and barely tore his attention away from his work long enough to squeeze your hand in greeting.

But you didn’t seem to mind, opting to make yourself comfortable and purveying the books neatly organized on his shelves. When you’d found a book you thought would be interesting enough — though probably not quite as interesting as the one you’d just finished, per Nesta’s recommendation — you settled into the armchair across Azriel’s desk, shoulders against one armrest as your legs draped over the other.

Azriel looked up at you then, soft smile curving his lips. He loved when you kept him company while he worked; somehow, whenever you were around, work never seemed nearly as daunting or overwhelming.

You met his gaze with your own grin, silently communicating your support of him in the way that only mates could, tugging gently on the bond before winking at him and resettling your attention back to the book in your lap.

The both of you worked in that wonderfully comfortable silence for a while before Azriel caught you fidgeting out of the corner of his eye. The sun had begun its routine descent below the horizon, cool breeze stirring the sheer curtains framing his windows. Though summer had plagued the days with heat and humidity, the nights were still cool as the last dregs of spring eked away.

He looked up, intending on asking if you needed anything — a blanket, maybe — but the words died swiftly in his throat when he eyed a flash of bare skin as you swung your legs to stand, showcasing just enough for him to clue in to the fact that you were indeed not wearing underwear. Or anything else under your dress, if the peak of your nipples beneath the silk was anything to go by.

Selfishly, for a brief moment, Azriel decided that maybe keeping the windows open wouldn’t be so bad.

He pried his eyes away from your form making its way back to his bookcase, and instead attempted to tamp down the raging lust stirring in his belly so he could focus. But the mental picture of what he knew lay beneath the barely there fabric of your dress coupled with your scent made the lines on the map he was studying blur into nonsense.

Though intelligent and compassionate at heart, Azriel often found himself a slave to his baser male instincts when it came to you. There was little – if anything – you could do to quell the raging need to touch you, kiss you, be near you at all hours of the day; his desire for you was a constant hum belying his daily routine. He had not one iota of self control when you were involved, much to his simultaneous thrill and chagrin.

Inwardly, he cursed himself as he stole another glance at you as you stretched onto your toes to reach a book on the top shelf.

Beauty incarnate, truly, he thought. Azriel’s eyes tracked each slope and valley of the lines of your body, taking his time to commit each curve to memory, the way he should have been doing with the maps sitting now uselessly on his desk.

You looked at him over your shoulder, small pout on your lips, “Az, can you help me? I can’t reach.”

Azriel’s heart leapt. It’s like you were doing it on purpose, and in hindsight you definitely were. But despite the gnawing adoration encouraging him to fall to his knees and worship at your feet, he stood with the cool grace of someone unperturbed by their mate’s subtle seduction.

Azriel obliged you, coming up behind you, one hand curling around your hip to steady himself as the other reached easily to the top shelf to grab the book your fingertips skimmed. As he leaned forward, you could feel the hard planes of his chest against your back and you wanted to abandon all your plans to slowly seduce Azriel into a puddle on the floor, but you remained steadfast in your decision. Nesta had pushed a book into your hands and said she tried this once with Cassian and that the resulting hours were pure heaven, and you wanted to test the theory, curiosity rivaling that of your mate’s.

You barely registered Azriel putting the book in your hands, too lost in the warmth of his familiar touch. But you composed yourself quickly, leaning back into him to kiss him in thanks, not so subtly pushing your ass back into his hips. A feeling of revelry settled in your chest when you felt him already half hard beneath his pants, his fingers curling tighter around your hip.

Oh so reluctantly, you pulled away, perfect picture of obliviousness as you plopped back down on the armchair you were occupying previously.

Azriel thought he would collapse in on himself when you went to sit back down. You had him so tightly ensnared it was like he was still in the midst of the initial mating frenzy. He briefly wondered if the mind-boggling need for you would ever go away, though part of him knew hoped it never would.

He took a moment to compose himself — if that was even possible when one’s mate was clearly playing a dangerous game of seduction — bracing himself with one arm steady against the bookshelf.

Despite how much Azriel so greatly wanted to shirk his responsibilities to bend you over his desk, he wouldn’t. Not yet anyway. The work day wasn’t quite over, and the plans he was making for you would surely last too long to finish his research afterwards. So he steeled himself and took a deep, steadying breath, willing his blood to fill his head again so he could think with some semblance of clarity.

Though at baseline, he always found it difficult to think rationally when you were around.

While Azriel was trying — and failing — to regain his composure, you were feigning extreme interest in the book you had selected at random: The History and Systems of Fae War Treaties.

If Azriel had been paying any attention to what you were reaching for, he’d have caught on to your ploy, but luckily for you the mere sight of you was enough to render him at least somewhat incapacitated.

You took a peek at him over the back of the chair, triumphant satisfaction crooking your lips into a mischievous smile. Maybe this would be the day he finally cracks, you think to yourself.

But as the sun dipped lower beneath the skyline of Velaris below, and as Azriel stubbornly worked away at his desk, you felt the tiredness of the day settle into your bones, pull you deeper into the plush leather of Azriel’s loveseat. Cassian had run you ragged with training this morning, and Rhys and Amren had your mind working tirelessly as the three of you attempted to draft a peace treaty in a meager four hours.

But you wouldn’t sleep, not yet, not until you had reduced Azriel to a beautiful, orgasmic mess in his chair. Not until the hazel of his eyes were blown dark with desire and pleading as you straddled his hips.

The next hour was a fight to stay awake as the words on the pages in your lap began to blur into obscurity, mind muddling with theories and questions — though the book was an off handed choice, you couldn’t deny that the information was coincidentally incredibly pertinent to the discussion you were having with Rhys and Amren earlier in the day.

The telltale sigh of a day’s work completed pulled your attention away from your book, gaze settling on your mate. His hair was mused in a way that told you he had spent the last however long skating his fingers through it, but as always it fell perfectly across his forehead in defiance of the tiredness creeping up his neck.

Azriel’s eyes met yours and apparently your coy seduction earlier still held his body in a vice, evident in the way he stood and stalked to you. There was a cool, domineering edge to his movements and you knew your plan had worked to a degree, but the determination you had to break him down had leeched out of you the same way the night had stolen the day’s heat.

You hummed in satisfaction as he leaned down to kiss you, the pressure gentle and so, so sweet. A stark contrast to the dark and tempting storm of desire Azriel flooded your senses with down the bond.

Never once breaking the contact of your kiss, he’d wedged a knee between your legs as one hand braced against the arm of the loveseat while the other danced at the hem of your dress, endearingly asking for permission.

Your mouth curved against his and you guided his hand up to your hip, gasping delightedly when his hand tracked further up your waist, bringing the hem of your dress up with it as he slotted your hips more comfortably against his leg.

His lips traced a scalding trail of open mouthed kisses against your jaw, your neck, a chuckle rumbling deep in his chest that had your hips rolling against him.

“So bold for me,” he said, his hand skating across your unclothed skin while he urged your hips to grind a little harder against his thigh. You gasped, the pressure so wonderfully perfect against your cunt.

Though your initial intention was to get Azriel all hot and bothered, you couldn’t deny that the game you had set yourself up in had the same effect on you; the lingering, almost lazy path his eyes swept over your body every time you shifted across from him left heat singing between your legs, untamed longing for you dancing down the golden thread between you.

“Az…” you rasped, arching your hips up to meet his still clothed body, the top of your dress pushed languidly down to your waist as Azriel played slow music on the skin of your breasts. The loveseat was a cramped fit at best, but Azriel’s surprising flexibility and dexterity made it work despite the general largeness of his wings and frame. He’d made even the smallest corners of the House work for your sexual escapades.

The memories of all the scandalous little happenings you two have been partaking in the past few months flitted across your mind’s eye like an erotic slideshow, and you groaned. Legs tightening around his in desperate search for more friction, more contact, more of him. His name on your lips again was a wanton plea, a sound so wonderfully obscene Azriel almost came in his pants.

“Hmm?” He hummed, closing his lips around your nipple, teeth gently tugging before his tongue was quick to soothe the ache. The way your hips were grinding so shamelessly against him had his head spinning with a swirling mix of lust and love, and he clung to the last shreds of self discipline he had. It was all he could do to not tear both of your clothes off and sink himself deep into your brilliant warmth.

Azriel had always been patient, mastery over his desire was a skill he’d honed meticulously over the past few centuries — though you had a way of quickly unraveling his self control with one flutter of your eyelashes. But he wanted to make this last for you, wanted to draw out your pleasure for as long as possible. So he pressed his thigh more firmly between your legs, his own hips slotting against the side of your body.

You gasped at the feel of him, of how hard he was against your hip, and you tried to reach him, tried to get him to release some of the tension you knew coiled in his belly. He groaned deep and breathless when you pressed insistently against him, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he continued his ministrations on your body.

Azriel’s hands were everywhere, trailing paths around your breasts, up your neck, into your hair, and between your legs the way he no doubt was doing with the maps on his desk earlier.

It was infuriating how close you were already, how swiftly the tables had turned (though you half blamed the sudden onset of your fatigue the day had cursed you with), how with one well placed touch you were on the brink of collapse at Azriel’s mercy yet again.

He was urging your hips faster now, his fingers and lips making quick work of all the places he knew would have you keening. And before you could even register that he was still fully clothed, hard cock still straining against the confines of his pants, you were falling, breathless and dizzy with release.

The night had been far from over. You came twice more in that godsdamned loveseat – once with his fingers buried inside you and another time with his head between your legs – before he whisked you away to your bedroom where you finally, finally felt the delicious stretch of him inside you.

By the time the sun was making its appearance over the horizon once more, you had lost count of how many times Azriel had you begging.

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Though your spicy little rendezvous in his office – and encore in the bedroom – wasn’t quite an exact replica of what played out in the book you had apparently just read, Azriel had thought your coy seduction had its intended effect. He’d been so fucking desperate for you that he couldn’t wait until you were out of his study to have you coming for him.

But, as he skimmed the pages of the chapter you marked, he couldn’t help but think that maybe he wouldn’t mind being fully at the mercy of your whims, wouldn’t mind submitting to the pleasure that you so easily coaxed from him. He was already always so eager to please you, so willing to crawl to the ends of the earth for you if you had so much as suggested you wanted him to.

“Azriel?” Nesta’s voice dripped with wicked amusement, effectively pulling him from his erotic reverie. “I never thought I’d see you in this section of the library.”

Fuck.

He hadn’t anticipated that he’d run into Nesta, a severely idiotic oversight on his part considering the House’s library was something akin to her own personal sanctuary. Azriel turned slowly on his heels to face her, mind working in overdrive to come up with a viable excuse for him being there.

“Nesta,” was all he came up with. Pathetic.

Her smirk turned deadly when she realized he was floundering. Arms crossed over her chest, chin tilted ever so slightly upwards, she looked the very portrait of smug amusement; he would expect nothing less of his friend who moonlighted as Lady Death.

Nesta’s eyes dropped to the book he forgot he was holding, and her eyebrows shot up in understanding, “Ah, I just recommended that one to Y/N. She gave it a hefty five stars. Said it was…intriguing.”

Nesta’s sly comments were enough to confirm Azriel’s suspicions that you were taking bedroom inspiration from the arsenal of smutty books the House stocked. And, with the way Nesta was biting her tongue, he could tell that she knew exactly why he was there.

Cassian, that fucking mouthy bastard.

Before Azriel could open his mouth to tell her that it wasn’t what it looked like – even though they both knew it was exactly what it looked like – Nesta stalked past him, pulling books off the shelf with striking precision. With a stack of five books balanced on one hand, she took the one Azriel was holding and reshelved it.

“These are Y/N’s favorite,” she said, this time with a little bit more softness and understanding as she placed them gingerly in his arms. “I’m sure she’d love if you read them.”

Azriel scanned each cover, a fond smile working to tilt the corners of his lips. You did love these; he had been familiar with these covers long before you were even mated, always keeping a lovingly watchful eye on the things you enjoyed, filing the knowledge away in his mind for later.

“Thanks, Nesta,” he said sincerely, adoration for you filling his chest with warmth as he remembered the excitement lighting your eyes while you read these books, cute flush radiating off your cheeks.

Nesta only nodded, giving his shoulder an encouraging few pats as she stalked off to another aisle, no doubt scouring the shelves for a new read.

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Azriel told himself that he’d only read a few chapters — for research — but he hadn’t realized that he’d spent the better half of his day off lounging on the loveseat in his study.

Despite his previous reservations around the smutty books you’d so lovingly treasured, he found he was enjoying them — and not just for the well written, detailed sex scenes that you were pulling ideas from. He was two-thirds of the way through the second book, in the midst of the big climax, when you snuck up on him.

“It seems you’ve discovered my dirty little secret,” you said coyly, arms coming up behind him to snake around his shoulders.

Azriel jumped at your sudden appearance, inwardly cursing himself for teaching you how to sneak up on someone so effectively. He closed the book swiftly, feeling a flustered blush creep up his neck.

You pouted and rested your chin on his shoulder, “Aw, you were just getting to the best part! Don’t stop reading on my account.”

Azriel groaned but gave in, leaning back into your touch, “Don’t tease me.”

“I would never tease you, my love,” you said mockingly before kissing his cheek. “It is really the best part, though. The paint scene—“

Before you could regale the details of the main characters’ sexual escapades, Azriel took your chin in his fingers and slotted his lips over yours in a silent plea to stop your innocent tormenting. He reveled in the way you kissed him back without pause; he didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way you loved him as eagerly as he did you.

“Dirty little secret, huh?” He quipped, lips brushing yours as a bemused smirk lifted the corners of his mouth. You rolled your eyes as you made your way around the back of the chair, gesturing for him to uncross his legs so you could settle yourself on his lap.

Your weight was a welcome comfort as he continued prodding you, “Is this why you’ve been so…eager lately?”

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” you admitted, winding your arms around his neck as he scoffed in mock disbelief.

“Give me some credit love, I notice everything when it comes to you.” Came his quick response.

You pursed your lips, half in childish dissatisfaction that your little game was over, “I just wanted to know how to get you to beg for me. I needed ideas.”

Your nonchalance belied the wicked sensuality of your words and he chuckled, wrapping his wings around you both before mapping a scathing trail of kisses up your neck. The pillowy feel of his lips brushing your ear made you shudder, his teeth nibbling playfully at your earlobe as he hummed deep in his chest, “We have a lifetime together, there’s no rush. But since you want it so badly, shall I show you how well I can beg for you?”

Azriel’s offer sent an exhilarating shiver down your spine, and you so desperately wanted to give in, wanted to watch him come undone beneath you as he pleaded with you to touch him. But you shook your head despite yourself, competitive stubbornness the only barrier between you and what you wanted.

“I want to earn it, make you want me so bad you can’t help yourself.”

Your words were a breathy murmur that nearly had Azriel flipping you over right there on the too small lounge chair, but he resisted, prioritizing his assurances that you were the only thing he wanted every second of every day.

“That’s the thing, beloved,” he whispered in your ear, deep voice doused in honey reverberating in your bones as your desire flared so wildly it made you lightheaded. His hand, calloused palms rough against your skin, skated beneath the hem of your dress to grab hold of your hip and move you so you were straddling him.

This was the image you played over and over in your mind. The unbridled, unrestrained look of pleading in his eyes that blew his pupils wide, that had his hips shifting against yours in a display of just how much he wanted you.

“I always want you,” he continued. “I’d beg for you like I am dying of dehydration and you are my oasis. Just ask, and I’ll do exactly as you say.”

You were mesmerized, finger tracing the sharp contours of his jawline before ending at his chin, tilting his gaze up with the same practiced dominance you’d seen him slip into countless times before. You savored the way he shuddered at your touch, pretty lips parting as his chest heaved.

The corner of your mouth quirked, your breath a ghost over his lips, “Show me, then.”

[waltermis]

Office

*Natasha walking pass Y/N*

Natasha: Hey Y/N, will you join me in Fury's office for a second?

Y/N *following Natasha*: Ohhh, private rendezvous huh? This whole 'trying to make a baby' thing has got you super freaky girl-

*Entering the office*

Y/N: Heeeyyy FuRY! *clears throat* What's up dude...!!

Fury: ...

Natasha: What did you think was happening??

Fury: She clearly thought you were gonna have secret sex in here...

Y/N: WHAt?! Inappropes much, Nick? *awkward chuckle*

Natasha: ...😏😏

Fury: Hey! Stop thinking of ideas!!

Natasha:

[literaryavenger]

Happy Birthday

Summary: It's your birthday and the only person who doesn't seem to be excited about it is you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death. Angst. Fluff. Language probably. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: This story was completely self-indulgent, but I hope someone out there likes it!

Masterlist

You’ve always been very reluctant to celebrate your birthday.

You haven’t had a birthday party since you were 12. The following year your mom died a couple of days before and neither you nor your family were in the mood to celebrate anything.

It wasn’t by any means unexpected, she had been sick for a few years, but it still hit you hard.

You were the youngest and were far too young when she first got sick to really understand everything going on.

You were 8 and all you really remember is watching your mom get more and more sick until eventually there was nothing more the doctors could do.

Her death hit you hard and you closed yourself off, never talking about it or even crying after the day of her funeral. To this day you’ve still never cried, in front of others or even by yourself.

You started exercising to channel all your energy, refusing to do anything more like the therapy your family suggested. 

When you were 15 you discovered SHIELD and decided you wanted to help others, so you signed up for the SHIELD Academy, working your hardest and pushing yourself to your very limit.

You ended up being not only the youngest cadet ever, but the youngest to actually graduate and then the youngest recruit at SHIELD at only 16 years old.

Natasha was very impressed when she heard about you and took a liking to you, convincing Fury to make you part of her team during her missions and teaching you everything she knows.

That’s how you ended up in the Avengers Initiative, not that you felt you didn’t deserve it since you know how hard you worked and everything you gave up to work towards this achievement. 

The team themselves were initially skeptical since you were barely 18 during the battle of New York, but they were quickly proven wrong when they saw how well you handled yourself against the Chitauri. 

You were devastated when SHIELD fell, but carried on as an Avenger, battling Ultron and then moving to the Compound with the team.

You met the actual Bucky for the first time when you were 22, during the whole Civil War thing with Baron Zemo. Like Natasha, you were on Tony’s team, fighting mostly Pietro, but the conflict eventually ended. 

It took Tony some time to get over the whole “Bucky killing his parents while brainwashed” thing, but, as he likes to say, he can’t call himself a genius without admitting that Bucky didn’t have much of a choice. 

Thanks to Tony’s help Shuri was able to find a solution to Bucky’s brainwashing faster than she would’ve alone, meaning Bucky didn’t have to go back into cryo and was pretty quickly cleared to join the team, about a year after the airport battle in Leipzig.

You were warmly accepted by everybody and, the more the team grew the more you felt at home with these people.

And now you wish you could burn down the whole compound because, somehow, Tony convinced you to have a birthday party for the first time in 13 years because, in his words, 'you only turn 25 once'.

Good news is you managed to make him limit the guest list to the team and other people close to you like Maria Hill and Fury. Bad news is you’re still gonna be the center of attention, which you hate.

You couldn’t stop Tony from making everyone dress up for the party, and you couldn’t stop the team from getting you gifts even though you insisted all you wanted was everyone together and to have fun with them since for the longest time nobody ever even knew when your birthday was. 

What you didn’t realize was that the only person more worried than you about your gifts was Bucky.

Since he joined the team the two of you have gotten close, starting with his first training with the team where he very loudly told Steve about his disbelief that someone as young and small as you could actually be an asset to the team.

You quickly put him in his place by taking him down after less than two minutes of sparring, taking full advantage of his underestimating you because he “didn’t want to hurt a pretty little thing like you.”

Admittedly he was impressed and wasn’t shy about letting you know that, while the rest of the team snickered at his initial shock when you pinned him down.

You became friends after that, not as close as you’d like but friends nonetheless.

If you were honest with yourself you’ve been harboring a little crush on the supersoldier, but he’s never shown any interest so you resigned yourself to just being his friend.

Something that you did come to treasure, though, is your and Bucky’s late night talks.

It started with you walking in on him in the kitchen on a late night where you couldn’t sleep, nothing new to you, but the two of you barely talked other than acknowledging each other.

You took a bottle of water and left.

A couple of days later you ran into him again and you stood there in silence while you made yourself a cup of tea and then left for your room.

A few days later again he was just sitting there and said nothing as you made your tea, except this time you put a cup in front of him and silently took a seat next to him at the counter.

Two nights later when you arrived at the kitchen he was already there with a cup of tea in front of him and one in front of the seat next to him.

You didn’t want to assume it was for you, but you took a chance when you noticed it was the cup you always used, a blue mug with Stitch on it that says “Let’s get weird”. Your favorite in fact.

You hesitantly sat down next to him and, without you having to ask or without even looking at you, he told you that the nights you stay up late because you can’t sleep you tend to be more quiet during the team dinners and while you hang out afterwards.

You didn’t say anything in return and just sat there, trying not to overthink how much he seemed to watch you.

But the more nights you spent like that, the more you two talked and you gathered quickly that Bucky is a very observant person, nothing more.

You loved the time you spent together after dark where you’d talk about everything and anything, but come morning it was almost as if it never happened, which you came to accept.

It weirdly made the nights you spent talking even more special, which was almost every night.

But back to the present, you’re currently getting ready with Natasha and Wanda, who know much more than you about hair and makeup and are always happy to help you out with getting ready for Stark parties. 

You put on the black cocktail dress with rhinestones all over the corset and a slit down the left side, then the three of you make your way to the party room and you take a deep breath before entering.

Everyone is already there, all dressed up in fancy clothes as they all shout “Happy Birthday”.

You laugh and say hi to everybody while they all take turns hugging you, there’s not too many people but everyone important to you is there.

Even Laura and Clint’s kids are there, which you consider a second family at this point, since Laura always did treat you like a daughter.

You hate to admit that it's a nice party.

Knowing you, everyone makes an effort to not put you too much at the center of attention and you just go around talking to your friends like every other party.

Eventually time comes for the cake and, the moment you kind of dreaded, opening the gifts.

Since it's the first birthday you allowed the team to celebrate everyone decided to go all in for your gifts, which you picked up on from the very first gift you open.

Pietro got you a first edition of “The Picture Of Dorian Gray” which is your all time favorite book, Wanda and Maria got you a leather jacket and an amazing pair of boots that you knew were expensive because you were all out shopping together when you came across them.

Steve got you a gold heart-shaped locker with a picture of the team inside it, Natasha got you a charm bracelet with a little charm to represent everyone on the team, and Sam got you a cute necklace with your birth stone on it.

When you open Fury’s gift you start laughing since it's a gun, a SIG SAUER P226 to be precise, which is very Fury.

“It was my first gun when I joined SHIELD.” He says with a smile and you smile back, knowing how much thought he put into this gift.

You open Clint’s gift next, a bow and arrow that he already taught you how to use, and Laura got you a pair of diamond earrings.

Your heart melts when you open Lila, Cooper and Nathaniel’s gifts, respectively a friendship bracelet, an Avengers action figure of yourself and a Stitch plushie.

The three of them hug you tightly as you say thank you and now you only have two gifts left, Tony’s and Bucky’s, and they’re both little boxes. 

You open Tony’s next, thinking it’s some fancy necklace or earring but you frown when you see a car key.

“Is this the key to your car?” you ask Tony, knowing full well you’re holding the key to an Audi R8 Spyder, the car Tony’s let you borrow so many times you’re now wondering if he’s gifting you his spare set of keys.

“No.” He says casually “It’s the key to your car.”

You’re even more confused and simply stare at him with your mouth gaped, not really processing the information.

“Y-you… You got me a car?!” You almost yell out of shock and everyone else starts laughing at your antics when you start basically jumping up and down and hugging Tony, squealing like a little girl.

“Well, come on, let’s go see it!” Tony says enthusiastically after you’ve calmed down, and you get up, just as enthusiastic, but are stopped by Steve’s voice.

“Wait, wait. You have one gift left.” He says, picking up the small box and giving it to you. “It’s from Bucky.”

You were so pumped up by the car, you almost forgot about it and completely miss the mischievous look Steve gives Bucky and the murderous glare Bucky gives back.

You also miss Bucky starting to protest before you open his gift, but he instantly shuts up when he sees your face falling the second you open it.

It’s a small necklace with a blue rose in it, it really looks like something you’d give a little girl more than a 25 year old woman.

You look at it for a minute, running your finger on it before you raise your head and look at Bucky.

The whole room goes silent as they all watch you worriedly, everyone noticing immediately that tears are streaming down your face.

Nobody understands what’s happening and nobody knows how to react or what to do, it’s like they’re all frozen by the sight of you being vulnerable for the first time ever. 

Meanwhile Bucky’s heart is beating so loud he’s sure everyone around him can hear it, and he feels himself starting to panic at the thought of having ruined your birthday with that stupid gift.

Everybody else got you expensive gifts and all he did was get you a small, cheap necklace that reminded him of a story you briefly talked about once on one of your late night talks about a necklace you had as a kid.

He saw it at the mall while looking for a gift for you, remembering the sweet smile you had on your face when you mentioned it and the fleeting sad look he thought he saw when you told him you lost it when you were 12.

He was really proud of himself for that gift, but the more he saw the other gifts you got the more he regretted his choice, especially after Tony gave you a fucking car.

And now you were crying, not saying anything while just looking at him.

He doesn’t know what to expect from you at the moment, nobody does, he thinks you might yell, throw his gift back at him, tell him how much you hate it and him.

But you surprise everyone by throwing your arms around Bucky’s neck, hugging him tightly while crying into his shoulder.

You honestly forgot telling Bucky about that story and certainly didn’t expect him to remember it, especially since you always got the feeling that he didn’t care about your talks as much as you.

You just assumed that come morning he deleted everything you told him to make room for more important things, and you didn’t blame him.

But he didn’t.

What you didn’t tell him about the necklace is that your mom gave it to you because blue roses were her favorite, you had that necklace since you were born but you somehow lost it the day of her funeral.

That day you lost the two most important things in your life and cried yourself to sleep, and that was the last time you allowed yourself to be weak and cry.

Until today.

Bucky hesitantly wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back hoping to get you to calm down. He looks around at the rest of the team, panicking a little and not knowing what to do.

Everyone else is as clueless as he is, never having seen you in such a state before.

Bucky starts apologizing, his heart breaking at the sight of you crying, and he feels horrible that it’s because of him.

You shake your head quickly and pull away a little to look at him, wanting to reassure him you’re not sad or angry but incredibly happy, but words refuse to come. You take a deep breath to calm yourself and finally manage to speak.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.” It’s quiet, but it’s something, and it’s enough to make Bucky let out a breath of relief at knowing you don’t hate him or his gift.

He brings you back in for another tight hug, almost forgetting about everyone else in the room as you hug him back without hesitation.

You’re honestly not even embarrassed at crying, all you care about at the moment is Bucky, his arms around you while he lets you bury your face in his neck, like you’ve been wanting to do for years now.

“Happy birthday, doll.” He whispers in your ear and, for the first time in 13 years, you really feel like it is.

[rafeslittleangel]

One night only...right?

In which you and Natasha are on a mission and lose all communication from Shield, forcing you to stay at a motel.

Warnings: Smut, tribbing, fingering, edging, mommy kink, oral f receiving, slight mentions of injury

Words: 2.6k

18+ mdni

"All clear" 

Nat whispers, pressing the earpiece to hear your response. 

"They're heading your way, Romanoff. I see thermal signatures of three." You mumble, looking at the small screen attached to your sleeve. "Stay on comms. I'll come in when you need me to."

Natasha smirks, her eyes flitting to the entrance of the room, waiting for the incoming. Rubbing her lips together, almost hungrily, she mutters...

"I'd like to make you come in other ways sweetheart."

You blush furiously, so glad Natasha couldn't see you right now. Before you could even respond, you heard the voice of the one and only Nick Fury, who was sitting back at base, guiding you through the mission. Your mission was to take down agents from a small organization that had recently popped out of nowhere, following the Hydra framework and belief that SHIELD and the Avengers knew all too well. They were on a mission to recover important information from an old hydra facility. Your job was to get your hands on it first.

"Focus on the mission, Romanoff; you can go back to your y/n fantasies later."

Fury's voice rings in your ears, bringing you back to reality. 

"Oh, I'm sure she wasn't, uh, fantasizing about me. Just an offhand comment, right?" You whispered unsurely, laughing nervously.

"Oh angel, I was doing much more than just fantasizing."

Normally you would blush and laugh it off, completely oblivious (maybe a little aware) of Natasha's advances, but you saw a flickering movement on your screen that made you squint, zooming in on the building schematics.

"Nat on your right, you have incoming through entrance four. I count 2, one armed, one strapped."

You widened your eyes, making sure you were looking at the signatures properly.

"Strapped to a bomb vest, Natasha, do not engage!" You yelled into the mouthpiece frantically, sprinting towards the room she was in. You neared entrance four, kicking down the other guy while you gingerly approached the human bomb, threatening to blow at any second.

"Romanoff, we need to evacuate. Where are you!?" You utter desperately, watching as the bomb vest turns red hot and the man dressed in it grins maniacally.

"Right behind you," Natasha knocks out a man who had gone unnoticed and was right behind you, peering at his figure on the ground. You hadn't even realized that someone was behind, let alone someone who was probably planning to blow you up. Natasha wraps her arm around your waist urgently, looking at the live bomb.

"Run"

You both sped across the hallways, her protective hold on your body tightening with every turn. You didn't slow down as you ran out of the facility, not looking back once.

"GET DOWN!"

Natasha screamed, pushing you to the ground and covering your body with hers. You heard a loud reverberation that echoed for so long that it felt like hours.

A few more minutes passed before she let up. You rolled around on your back, looking up at her tiredly to see a shit-eating grin on her face.

"This is not how I imagined we'd be when we laid down together for the first time."

At this, you giggled, looking away. She offered you a hand, and you took it, your hair bouncing as you got up.

You reached to tap your earpiece, wanting to let Fury know you're both safe. You pressed it, only to hear static. You took it out and groaned to see that it was broken. You looked toward Natasha to see her having the same luck. The vibrations from the explosion and the frantic escape must have damaged it. You sighed and looked around.

"Where's our ride? Do we go back to base?"

Natasha looks at you guiltily. "Well..." You widen your eyes, shooting her a wary glance.

"Nat...."

"I was supposed to call for the quintjet through comms. We have no forms of communication left to call Fury."

"Wh-UGH what about the bike?"

She looks around, examining every nook and corner of the destroyed facility and the grounds around it. "It blew up". You groaned, looking away from her, dread filling your heart. You had never been stranded before. You were a young avenger, comparatively new one. You bit your lip and surveyed the ground underneath you.

Natasha looks at you sympathetically. "We can't go back y/n. This just got way more serious than it should be. We need that intel, whoever it's with. And we need to find out why they would blow up their own facility. What were they hiding in here?" She thought out loud. "We'll have to camp out here for a few. Even if we had a means of transportation or communication, we would have to stay to figure this out."

You nod reluctantly. Friend or not, Natasha was still your senior. You looked into the pitch black sky. "Where do we start?"

She lets out a laugh, looking you over. "I might be tough on you hon, but I'm not a monster. We're gonna get some rest, recuperate and prepare, starting with stitching that ugly cut up."

Natasha brings her hand to your cheek, a borderline concerned look on her face. You tensed up. You hadn't even realized you were hurt.

She gently traced the pad of her thumb below the lacerated skin, her eyebrows pinched together. You observe her face, which was practically glowing, even in the darkness of the night. She blinked, as if put out of a trance when she notices you staring. She withdraws her hand, almost hesitantly (you notice) and cleare her throat.

"Uh...l-let's go look for a motel to spend the night at huh?" You caught a glance of the faint blush that spread on her cheeks, right before she turned away, walking quickly. You stood there, dumbfounded.

Natasha fucking Romanoff was...nervous?

You shook your head, laughing softly. "Wait for me!" You rushed behind Natasha, who was practically speed walking by now.

_______________________________________________

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, wrapped up in a towel. You'd just gotten out of the shower, the gash on your cheek pulsing. You winced, letting out a few yelps of pain as you a attempted to put a measly bandaid on it. You hear three loud knocks an you jump, your knuckle hitting the cut.

"Fuck!" You screamed. Hearing the noise, Natasha barged in, gun in her hand.

"Are you okay?" She asked, eyes suddenly fixated on the towel hugging your body.

"I was until you knocked on the door, making me hit my cheek!" You huffed out, annoyed. Natasha chuckled and put her gun down.

"I just wanted to ask if you need help sweetheart. And apparently, you do.." She peered at the bandaid on your face. "You don't put bandaids on cuts like that sweetheart."

You looked at yourself in the mirror, then at Nat, suddenly feeling so stupid as you look down at the first aid kit in your hands.

"I-I didn't have anything else..."

Natasha smiles, caressing your side gently. "You'll need stitches princess." She takes out her own first aid kit, finding the sterilized needle and thread she kept.

"Will you get on the counter for me sweetheart?"

Natasha was taller than you, so it made sense for you to sit on the counter so that she could stitch you up more easily. You felt your cheeks get hot at her choice of words but get on the counter anyway, clutching your towel as it ridea up your legs.

She starts working on the cheek carefully and gently, inserting herself between your legs. You screw your eyes shut at the pain, needing something to hold on to as you grip her thigh, digging your nails into her flesh. She let out words of appreciation, hating to see you in pain.

"Almost done princess, just hang on..."

She whispers, doing the last stitch, finally cutting up the thread to look at you.

"All done sweetheart, you can open your eyes now."

You let go of a breath you didnt realize you were holding, as you turn to look in the mirror, inspecting your cheek. You look at Nat in the mirror, who was already looking at you. You felt your throat go dry as you looked into her eyes.

"T-thank you..." You stuttered out, looking back at her. She smiled and put the things back in the first aid kid, not moving away as her thigh rested dangerously close to your almost exposed pussy. You felt Natasha's gaze burn into you as she traced your inner thighs with her fingers.

"Can I kiss you?"

She whispered, lips inches away from yours. You nodded slowly, lost in her eyes. She didn't waste a second to crash her lips onto yours, hands funding your lower back. You let go of the towel loosely wrapping your torso, the fuzzy cloth dropping to reveal your body as you kept your hands on her neck to pull her closer.

Natasha stops, eyes relishing every nook and corner of your naked body as she looks you up and down.

"Sweetheart..." She whisper, completely entranced, bringing her thumb to stroke your soft nipple, playing with it until it becomes a small hard nub. A rush of euphoria hits you and you whimper, your hands finding her waist.

She looks up at your face and smiles, delighted to see your head thrown back, eyes screwed shut. She brings her mouth to your other nipple, licking and sucking it harshly, dragging a real, loud moan out of your throat.

Natasha pressed herself closer to your core, your legs involuntarily wrapping around her waist. She picks you up, carrying you out of the bathroom and to the medium-sized bed, which was the best that the run-down roadside motel you were at could offer. She gently placed you on the matress, looking at you hungrily as she spread your legs. She knelt down, her thumb reaching your clit, gauging you for a reaction. You bit your lip, whimpering and looking down at her as she pressed her thumb on the bundle of nerves, bringing her teeth down to graze the sensitive bud.

You were soaked by now, squirming and begging for some kind of friction as Natasha carelessly traced her fingers on the work of art between your legs.

"M-Mommy please!"

You whimpered out, bucking your hips towarda her fingers. All movement stopped as she looked up at you, a mocking pout on her lips.

"Please what sweetheart? Use your pretty words angel, can't get everything by begging and whining can you?"

You moaned, your hand reaching down to rub your clit. "Need you s-so bad." Natasha shoves your hand away from your clit, delivering a slap to your pussy. You cry out, your hole tightening around nothing.

"Did I say you could touch yourself?" She asks, reaching up to pinch your nipple.

"Answer me." She brought her hand down on your pussy again, smirking as you hiss in pain.

"I-I'm sorry-" You mumble, closing your eyea and biring your lip. Natasha lights taps your cheek, gesturing for you to look at her.

"Sorry what?"

"I'm sorry m-mommy!" You choke out as Nat plays with your clit. She smiles and takes your pretty bud in between her lips, sucking on it while forcing your legs open, even as you struggle to close them from the sensations. You gasp when her tongue enters your wet hole, eagerly lapping up your juices.

You thrust your pelvis into her face, causing her to hold you down as she aggressively licks your pussy like it was her last meal. Your hands reach to her scalp, stroking and pulling her red hair as the knot in your abdomen threatens to unravel.

You moan with pleasure, eyes falling shut when you shudder, so wo close-

"Fuck!" You cry out, tortured swollen pussy pulsing as Nat looks up at you, your arousal dripping down her chin.

"No...no why'd you stop!?" You sniffle, tears in your eyes.

Natasha licks her lips, bringing her face down to kiss your neck, biting and sucking so hard it left a large purple mark. You gasped, nails digging into her hips.

"Well you haven't been the best girl for mommy... didn't think you deserved a release." She whispers, rolling both your nipples betwen her fingers. You shudder with pleasure running down your torso.

"I'll be better...I-I promise I'll be better...Please Na-mommy!" Your best, puppy dog, princess face was on, playing at Natasha's heartstrings but she was not that easy. She settled onto the bed, gesturing for you to come towards her.

"C'mere sweetheart..." She whispered, arms out as you crawled towards her. She takes off her shirt and jeans, left in a red lingerie that could make anyone salivate at the sight. She scooped you up, laying you down in front of her. She spread your legs, blowing air to your core, watching as more arousal leaks through your hole.

"Aw sweetheart... baby's eager isn't she?" She whiapered out, eyes fixated to your insanely wet swollen cunt. You nodded and whimpered, nails digging into the matress of the bed.

She teased you, slowly sliding in one finger as she looks at your pretty face, whines falling out of your mouth. She keeps the finger inside, unmoving, looking at your eyes shut at just one.

"My princess can take another can't she?"

You nod eagerly, thrusting your bottom further down the finger. Natasha puts her hand on your jaw, pressing harshly.

"Didn't I ask you to use your words sweetheart?" She whisper, threatening to pull out the first. You babble, trying to find your speech.

"Another one m-ma please..." You bite your lip, anxious for friction.

Nat joins her index finger with her middle finger, finally starting to move them, thrusting them into you. She curled her fingers inside, grazing the squelchy, spongy spot inside that made you moan and shut your eyes.

She was breathing heavily, touching herself over the thin material of the panties, seeing your little hole get so stretched by just two fingers. Without warning, she slid another one in, making you gasp and hold her wrist.

She slapped your hand away, thrusting her fingers harder, pulling down her own, soaked through underwear. She felt your pussy clench around her fingers and she withdrawed them completely, leaving you clenching around nothing. You cried out, having yet aanother orgasm ripped away from you. The desperation was short lasting however, as Natasha pulled you to her lap, thrusting her bud onto yours, placing your wet and slippery pussy on hers.

She moaned loudly, her grip on your ass tightening as she made you grind into her pussy. You squealed as she flipped you over, rolling her hips into yours, rubbing herself on you without a break. Squelching noises filled the room as your slick coated pussy caressed against hers, your orgasm threatening to burst for the third time that night.

"Come on princess, I know you're close, gonna cum for me huh? Gonne show me who made you feel this well?"

With that, you reached your climax, your pussy pouring out everything it had, Nat's hands supporting your convulsing body as she herself let go, feeling her orgasm. You blacked out for what it felt like was seconds, but when you woke up, you saw that Natasha had already cleaned you up, her shirt on your torso. She stroked your hair, sitting beside you.

She kissed your cheek, seeing you wake up and smiled. You rubbed your eyes.

"W-what happened?" You whispered, snuggling closer into her chest. She laughed and pulled you closer.

"You squirted sweetheart. What a pretty sight it was too..." She whispered, drawing patterns on your thighs.

"Go to sleep angel, you've had a long day."

[butchmartyr]

dude twitter is dire as fuck with the way half the response to this is bizarre transmasc rage. like a trans woman will say "cisnormativity says you have to stay as you are and tries so hard to ingrain this in all of us through gender, but our existence spits in this assumption; the brainwashing doesnt work and you prove it since you're not a woman as they want, if at all! there is no absolute authority in gendered socialization!"

and trans men and mascs who will never work on their misogyny crawl out of the woodwork to desperately try and misinterpret this in any possible way so they can feel insulted. why the fuck do so many people cling to this idea that they're indistinguishable from cis women?? why do you WANT to act like theres some inescapably female core of yourself when youre nb or whatever else? what the fuck, man?

[hellsenthero]

Hot Under the Collar

Written by: hellsenthero

Azriel X Fem!Reader

A mandatory visit to the Illyrian war-camp takes a turn for the worst when three hot-headed males decide they want to send their High Lord a message.

Warnings/themes: Swearing, violence, blood, angst, fluff, sexist war camp.

MASTERLIST

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Azriel held you securely in his arms as he flew. The view of the trees and mountains was always breathtaking to you, so much so that you didn't mind the biting chill in the air that nipped at your hands and cheeks.

“I wish you could've stayed home.” Azriel spoke for the first time since you'd taken off from the House of Wind. It was a comment that had you peering up at him with furrowed brows.

“You don't want me with you?”

“God's no,” he breathed, his hazel eyes met yours and you could see the stress he was holding back. “Illyria is no place for females, Y/N, no place I want my mate near.”

“But you grew up there.” Azriel's hold on you tightened.

“Exactly.”

The rest of the flight to the war-camp was spent in silence. Azriel's Shadows twisted around the two of you in such an unsettled manner that you could practically taste his anxiety. When the camp came into view you gave Azriel a quick kiss on his cheek. “It'll be okay, Az, don't worry too much.”

You could feel the tension in the camp the second you landed. It had your nerves flaring like a spooked creature, but you knew as one of the Night Court's best healers you had a job to do here. Check the females, make sure their wings are intact, give them any remedies they require, be it for their cycles, pain relief, contraception, or anything else. Azriel was here to speak with Devlon to ensure he was sticking to the new training rules and as your protection as he all but refused to drop you off like Rhysand had originally suggested.

“Would you just drop Feyre off there and leave, Rhys?” Azriel had bit out when Rhysand called the meeting. Rhys looked pissed at just the thought of leaving his mate in the Illyrian war-camp.

“Absolutely not.”

“Then don't expect me to leave Y/N's side for a fucking second in that shit hole.”

“Shadowsinger,” Devlon greeted. His sharp eyes looked you over but he didn't bother to greet you. Azriel grit his teeth at the blatant disrespect towards his mate.

“Devlon,” Azriel said coolly, “this is Y/N, one of our Court's best healers,” he placed his left hand over his right, making sure his mating band was visible for Devlon and the other gathering fae. “She's also my mate. I expect there to be no issues with her checking on the health of the females here?” At the mention of mate the other fae backed up with wide steps, all but three males who stood side by side, glaring between the shadowsinger and you. You quickly committed their looks to memory before focusing back on Azriel. “We'll be staying at our usual cabin.” You caught Azriel saying.

“How long will you be staying?” Devlon asked.

You knew Azriel wanted to leave as soon as possible, but he instead answered with, “as long as it takes to ensure the females are healthy and cared for and that things are running smoothly.”

“We can care for our females ourselves.” Devlon bit out.

Azriel's hazel eyes narrowed. “You say that, but you've proven that to be untrue in the past.” Before Devlon could respond with a nasty remark of his own, Azriel slipped his arm behind your back and began leading you towards the cabin he more or less grew up in. “I'll meet with you just before dinner to go over specifics, Devlon.” Azriel called out without looking back.

“What a prick.” You hissed out as Azriel shut the cabin door behind the two of you.

Azriel let out a low hum of agreement. “He's the nicest male here.”

“I'll try to be quick,” you say in order to placate both him and yourself, “thorough, but quick.”

“Good,” Azriel breathed out.

—--

The next morning found you doing much the same as you had the evening before. Going cabin to cabin and checking on the females. You preferred to check on them in the comfort of their own homes, it made everyone more at ease and always allowed for the females to speak to you more freely about their health. By the afternoon you had to go back to your own cabin to make up more tonics for the female's cycles. You found out that when their cycle hit none of the males in the camp bothered to help get them soothing tonics for the pain they went through. Instead, they were told to deal with it.

With a grunt you slammed the cabin door shut out of anger as you got to brewing up more tonics. Azriel was in another meeting with Devlon and you were glad he wasn't there to see you fuming with anger. The treatment of the females in the camp made you want to scream and cry and you knew it would take a long while to decompress after leaving the Gods forsaken war-camp. Yes, Devlon had the females training and yes, they stopped the wing clipping, but the lack of equality within the camp had you nearly shaking.

You didn't bother turning around when the cabin door opened. Otherwise, you would have seen the three males standing in the doorway. Instead, you called out to who you thought was your mate. “If I'm seeing the improved version of the camp, then I can't imagine the horrors that went on here before.”

“I wouldn't say that this place has improved at all,” answered a deep voice. You shot up and out of your seat and faced the three winged males that you'd had your eyes on the day prior, the only three males who didn't seem to care that you were Azriel's mate and therefore, untouchable. “In fact, I think the camp’s gone to shit ever since your little mate and his High Lord introduced the new rules. I think we need to send them a message.”

“Get the fuck out of here.” You hissed as you scrambled to pull on the invisible golden thread tethering you to Azriel.

“Make us.” The second male hissed.

You looked to the ceiling and muttered a prayer.

“Praying won't get you out of this,” said the first male, a tall male with dark brown eyes.

You looked back down and locked eyes with him. “Oh, I'm not praying for myself.”

You threw yourself at the male just as the door burst open again on a shadow swept wind. Azriel had his hands around the third male's neck, snapping in with one quick movement before the male could draw his weapon. Azriel's shadows helped subdue the second male, keeping him in place as he took out Truth-Teller and stabbed in through the male's chest. The bond had Azriel wanting to carve his eyes out and slit his neck slowly for even thinking of hurting his mate, but now was not the time for a slow and painful death. As Azriel went to advance on the last male, he stopped. He stopped because before him, on the ground, was his mate, straddling the screaming male. Azriel watched as you clawed the eyes out of the first male. His screams of pain like music to Azriel's ears as you dug your sharp nails in further and further and further, until finally, the male grew quiet, and he stopped moving. You brought bloody fingers to the male's neck, checking for a pulse, and after a moment, you breathed a sigh of relief. “He's dead.”

Azriel looked at you with a mix of love, shock, pride, his many emotions flowing down the bond to you.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you answered as he helped you off the floor, he didn't mind the warm blood that slipped from your fingers onto his own. “Needed to get my anger out, that really helped.”

Azriel was speechless for a moment as he looked you over.

“Fuck baby, remind me to never get you angry.”

You laughed, a sweet sound that was out of place in a cabin full of bodies. “You know I can get a bit hot under the collar, baby.”

“Right,” Azriel answered with a small uptilt of his lips, “I'm going to go tell Devlon his three best fighters are dead. Once you're done here we're going straight home and I'm not letting you leave the bedroom for a fucking week. Got it?”

Your smile was enough of an answer, but you still nodded to Azriel. “Got it.”

[redheadspark]

Never Ever

Summary - Azriel consols his son after a nightmare.

A/N - This is part of the Ocean Eyes Series

Azriel has gown accustom to the quiet in Velaris.

The little home out in the countryside was especially quiet, with the moon hanging high in the sky amongst the clouds and the grass softly swaying in the wind, Azriel loved this kind of quiet.  He was accustomed to frogs bellowing from the river not too far away, or the faint hum of fireflies that were dancing along the tops of the herbs in the garden behind the cottage.  He was used to it now, and he would prefer this over the sterile silence of the Illyrian camps or even in the city of Velaris. 

This was one of the very few nights he was home.  Most of the time he would work late or until around dinner time, Rhysand needing his Spymaster duties more frequently than ever before.  With the improved relationship with Autumn Court getting better by the day, Eris was still a targeting threat to Night Court.  He knew that threats he had two times against Azriel and his family, so The Autumn Prince has been quiet for the last few months or so.  Azriel still kept his shadows busy with intel from Eris.

He had no trust in Eris, and he wouldn’t anytime soon.

You were helping Nesta and Cassian at the House of Wind, Nesta being so close to her due date that she was restricted to her bed until it was time to give birth.  Madja had to be stern with her, knowing Nesta was a stubborn fae.  She was convinced though, Cassian staying by her side to give her plenty of rest and preparation for their new title bundle of joy.  You were more than willing to help, making plenty of herbs for her and prepping plenty of great meals for herself and Cassian to enjoy.  It meant that you were the one staying out a bit later in the night, and Azriel would be on cottage duty.

Of course, Alec missed his mother being around.  When he wasn’t attending school in the mornings in Velaris, he would be at home or on a playdate with Nyx.  Azriel could tell he was missing you from time to time when you’d be helping his Aunt Nesta.  He was good at hiding his feelings, even with the faint signs of his shadows humming against his small backside, Alec never wanted to show that he wanted his mother.  It pained Azriel to see his son trying to hide his feelings, but then again he had to do the same when he was young.

Azriel made it a point to change that with Alec.

He had finished the last of the dishes to let them air dry when he first felt it along his shadows.  Movement, very close by, making him pause from his actions.  It wasn’t a negative sense so to speak, but something familiar.  Something warm, not a threat, and nothing dangerous.  He knew that feeling, and the next thing he heard was one of the floorboards creaking from very little weight.  

Lastly, he heard a sniffle.  Instantly he turned, knowing who it was within an instant.

Alec, in his pajamas, and massive tears on his cheeks.

“D-d-daddy,” He hiccuped.

Azriel was gliding over within an instant and scooping him up within his arms.  Alec clung to him, his face digging into his father’s neck so his father could feel the tears hitting his shirt.  It broke his heart to see Alec in tears, a sweet young boy who would never hurt fly and would light up his tiresome day.  Azriel also knew his heart was tender, so tender and consumed with love, so there would be times when it would break or shatter.  

All Azriel could do was pick up those pieces and mend his heart.

“What’s wrong, Alec?  You wanna tell me?” Azriel asked him in a soothing tone, rubbing his back with his knuckles as he walked them over to the couch to sit.  Alec was hiccuping in his lap, his fingers clinging to Azriel’s shirt too tight as Azriel kept cooing at him, “I got you, okay?  You’re safe with me,”

“I-I had a b-b-bad dream,” Alec mumbled into his shirt, sniffling a bit.

“I’m sorry, buddy.  Nightmares are simply scary dreams.  But that’s all they are: dreams.  Nothing real, okay?” Azriel reminded his son, who nodded his head rapidly as he moved his head to look up at his other.  His bright eyes were almost illuminated, and the tears on his cheeks were evident.

“I didn’t l-l-like the dream though, Daddy,” he explained, Azriel hummed and pushed his tears away gently with his thumbs.

“I know you didn’t, buddy.  You wanna tell me about it?” He asked his son, he bit his lower lip for a brief moment as his father waited patiently.  It was one of the traits Ariel loved about his son: always in deep thought.

“You and momma weren’t there,” Alec explained, Azriel watching his son’s piercing blue eyes start to mist again as he was looking at his fingers that were fiddling in his lap, “I was lost and I tried to find you, and momma.  But I couldn’t find you, and I..I g-g-ot—“

Azriel tucked him into a hug again as Alec sniffled and blinked out a few more tears.  Azriel knew his son loved being around his parents, he had a sense of safety with you and Azriel.  It was one of the main goals Azriel had: to make his son feel loved and safe.  It wasn’t that Alec was insanely introverted, he had friends at his school and a wonderful relationship with his cousin Nyx.  Alec would rather be around his big loving family than anywhere else. The last thing Azriel would ever want is for his son to not feel safe at any time.  

“My sweet boy,” Azriel hummed into his son’s hair while he rubbed Alec’s back soothingly with the tips of his fingers, “You should never be afraid of being alone.  You will never be alone, okay?  Your momma and I will never ever leave you alone,”

Azriel heard his son sniffle a bit, then pausing before speaking in a mere murmur, “Never?”

He had to smile against his son’s black locks, hearing the small inkling of hope in his son’s tone, “Never ever.  You’re our son, Alec Rhysand, and we love and adore you too much to leave you alone,”

It seemed to do the trick since Azriel could no longer hear Alec crying or sniffling too much.  But he was still holding onto his father, not as tightly but possessively.  He finally sat back up, Azriel seeing how he was a bit calmer and sleep was evident on his face and under his eyes.  He grinned, “How about I tuck you back into bed, okay?”

“Mmkay, and daddy?” Alec asked tentatively.

“Yeah, Alec?”

“I miss momma,”  

Azriel heard the pain in his voice from those three words, which broke his heart a bit.  He knew Alec loved his mother and wanted to be around her constantly.  You were an exceptional mother to Alec, you knew just how to shower him with love and still be firm at the same time when it was needed.  But the best thing that you did, in Azriel’s opinion at least, was make Alec feel like the most important Illryian throughout the land.  

It was as if you were born to be a mother.  Azriel firmly believed that.

“I know, buddy. I miss her too,” Azriel agreed, standing up with Alec in his arms as Alec’s head was snuggled on his shoulder with his eyes blinking slowly and a yawn on his lips, “However, if I know your momma, she should be back very soon.  But right now she’s helping Aunt Nesta, remember?”

“Helping her before she has the baby?” Alec asked as Azriel walked down the hallway back to Alec’s little bedroom.

“That’s right. Your momma wants to help her before the baby comes, and that means she has to be away for a bit.  But not forever,” Azriel reassured his son as he made it to the door that was left ajar that led into Alec’s room.  

“I hope not forever,” Alec mumbled, yawning again as Azriel chuckled and poked his head into the small room.  Alec’s bed was tucked against the wall and by a window that looked out into the open meadow, Velaris not too far away along with the massive mountains.  His dresser was in the closet that had his clothes and small trinkets sitting on the top.  The walls were painted in tints of purple and blue to reflect the night sky, all thanks to Aunt Feyre, and plenty of toys that were tucked into a beautiful wooden toy chest with his name engraved on the top, a generous gift from his Uncle Rhysand.  

Azriel walked his son across the room, dodging the wooden sword that Alec got as a Winter Solstice gift from Cassian last year and then placing his son back in bed.  Alec snuggled into the bed as Azriel tucked the blanket up and around his arms.  Azriel could see that he was beyond sleepy, rubbing his eyes with his fingers and trying to stay awake as his head was sinking into the plush pillow, “Tomorrow we can go to the harbor. You, me, and momma. How does that sound?”

Alec lit up a bit from the suggestion, his smile infectious as he nodded his head, “Mmkay, Daddy.  I wanna get a present for Nesta’s baby too,” 

“You want to get a gift?” Azriel asked, almost in a bit of shock as Alec nodded his head again.

“Mmhmm.  Maybe a stuffy like my owl, so that if the baby gets sad, the stuffy will help,” He suggested, his voice showing signs of slumber and his eyes starting to drift close with ease.  Azriel was immensely proud of his son, seeing how big his heart was even when he was missing his mother and experiencing a nightmare.  

“That sounds like a great idea, Alec.  Now, let’s get some sleep, okay?  I’ll make sure momma comes in to give you a kiss when she gets home, okay?”  Azriel asked him as Alec held his stuffed owl in his tiny arms.

“Okay, Daddy.  Night night,” Alec replied, letting out one more big yawn before his eyes drifted closed.

“Goodnight, buddy.  I love you,” Azriel hummed against his head, pressing one more kiss against his dark locks.  He then got up from the bed, about to walk out of the bedroom and close the door behind him when he heard a soft sound from the bed.

“Love you too, daddy,”

Azriel turned back and looked, seeing Alec drifting back to sleep with a soft smile.  Once again, Azriel had to pause and drink in his life: to anyone else, it would be seen as mundane or ordinary.  Not to him, not to the Spymaster who went through torment and pain as a youngster and always had to have people arm's length away.  He saw death head-on and fought back, he’s seen fae and other beings die around him as he went on, and he always assumed he wouldn’t have a simple life or that the simple life would fulfill him.

He was wrong.  This life was the only life he would ever want and need. 

As he turned off the light and closed the door, with the moonlight dancing along his son’s sleeping face, Azriel considered himself a lucky Illryian for this life.  He no longer had to rely on fear or brutality as other Illryians did, nor did he have to be uncertain if he would ever be happy.  He was beyond happy, happy with a mate who loved him with all his flaws, happy that he had a found family who brought him out of darkness and doubt, and most importantly, happy with his son who saw Azriel as his world and more.  

The next morning Azriel noticed that your side of the bed was still untouched, which made him slightly panic.  But your jacket was hung on the back of a chair, as well as your messenger bag you would take.  That made him confused as he got up from bed and ruffled his hair.  Anytime either one of you would come in late, you would notify each other.  Azriel couldn’t recall hearing you whisper to him last night or getting a kiss on the cheek, yet your things were in the room.  

He poked his head into Alec’s room, seeing an adorable and loving sight as you cradled your son in your arms and the pair of you sleeping in Alec’s bed.  Your wings drooped over the side of the small bed, Alec snoring away as his head was on your chest fast asleep while you too were in deep sleep with your arms tucked around him.  With the early morning sun rays dancing in the room to brighten the space, it felt peaceful and almost tranquil in a way.  

Azriel had to grin: the two most important beings in his life were sleeping together.  

The End.

tagged - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams @prettylittlewrites @fxckmiup

[bonesandchalamet]

admission - azriel

masterlist | pairing: azriel x fem!reader summary: a man who never shares his secrets learns how to admit the truth. warnings: none (at least to my knowledge) a/n: I’ve spent the last month reading acotar series and I’ve fallen in love with azriel 🫣 I’ve been MIA bc school but I’m back!!

those dark black eyes.

if you’d been oblivious, you’d take them as just azriel being distant, and cold. but spending centuries along side him, those eyes yearned for something you could never place a finger on.

he doesn’t show much expression, that was a given, but azriel showed a lot more to you in past months than he’d shown his own friends.

maybe it was always because he could feel you reading right through him. you saw exhaustion, anger, and disappointment where others saw a mask of him.

he couldn’t shy away from you, he’d given up all his fighting to let you work yourself into him and ease the pain or burden.

“Rita’s?” cassian turned to azriel, his eyes glimmer with a playful excitement that he could never mimic back. his dear friend had a way of making him stay out, dance or drink until the pinks and blues danced across the sky.

“pass.” was all azriel could get himself to say. the whole dinner he was silent, often how it went, but your eyes played a conversation that nobody else was apart of. your own secret language.

“y/n?”

shaking your head, you catch Mor’s frown, but she understood. in someway, you think she caught onto you and azriel, but if she did she was silent. and if anybody caught onto it they knew azriel wouldn’t fight them, but rather show them to never speak a word about it. protective, he’d once called it, idiocy is what you saw it as.

swirling the wine in your glass, you take a final sip before dismissing yourself from the long evening. your home was only a block away, and having spent all morning training feyre with cassian, you were exhausted.

azriel would stay longer. he’d stay until cassian and mor left for Rita’s and then find his way home to you. it’d been a day of reporting to his spies and keeping his head down until dinner time where he could actually enjoy something: you.

public affection was not azriel. even if it was, he’d never show his vulnerability to the world and risk losing you. he spent the better half of his life fighting darkness, only to have it wiped away the second you entered his life. it was evident to his friends he was much lighter in previous times, but he’d always shrugged it off and told them there was a price for prying into his life.

“headed out soon?” feyre was the first to bite, her body swaying in the seat beside rhys, a bit tipsy off the wine.

shrugging was his typical answer, and that’s what he’d given her in hopes the conversation would change, and luckily amren could read a room. unlike a few others at the table.

another hour passed and Rita’s seemed to be the next stop for the group. azriel joined them on the way out the door, but instead of heading into town he headed to you. he’d let them have that bit of knowledge, even if he knew tomorrow would be another round of begging for information.

instead of winnowing in, he takes the front door, allows you to listen to the lock of the door, his boots clattering against the wood floors. he knows all time spent signaling his arrival, is time you spent readying for him.

the creeks of the wood from below bring a flutter to your heart. you pull back the white silk sheets, fluff his pillow like you always do, and seat yourself on the edge of the bed waiting for the dark fuming cloud to whisk away into your arms.

“long day?” you ask watching him slip into your room and immediately discard his black shirt off his back. your arms were outstretched for him, and he moves towards you allowing your warmth to work its way into his body until he was nothing but mush and happiness.

your soft delicate fingers worked the muscles of his body, allowing him to lean into your touch, he rants about the little things he wouldn’t dare tell anybody else.

“what about you?” his voice a faint whisper into the air, “your day, I mean.”

you wrap your arms around his shoulders, lips pressing against his rough skin, “better now.”

“you can always tell me more.” azriel sits up out of your grip, he spins away from your body, turning so you’re both facing each other, “I listen well.”

a chuckle escapes your lips before you press them onto his, “you hold too many secrets, az, I’d never burden you with more.”

his brows furrow, “burden?” the words echo off his lips like it was a new word and he’d never heard it before, “you could never.”

you bite your bottom lip, as if contemplating to tell him how training feyre was more like an ass beating or how cassian makes you want to bang his head into wall and shove him down a flight of stairs. though, you’d never tell him the worst of it all. you could tell him always the little things.

he takes your silence away, lips pressing hard against yours, a gasp is your reaction. his fingers work the little bit of lace you’d left on for him, and suddenly you’re back is pressed against the sheets, his membranous wings are coddling you like a cocoon.

“a secret for a secret.” he whispers in the dark purple and black enclosure, his eyes are all you can see beside some faint outlines of his face.

“you first,” you whisper into the darkness, your fingers pressed against his warm skin wishing to pull him closer.

“I think I always knew I loved you.” he whispered into the darkness. he couldn’t see your eyes, you must’ve closed them to give him the privacy for admission, but when you open them, deep swirls of violet and black stare into yours with passion, “your turn.”

“i wish you let me love you for the world to see.” you say looking up for the white walls, but only to find the darkness of his wings surrounding you.

“did you know you can’t mask your face like me?” he removes himself from around you, allowing the bright lights of the night sky to return to your vision and the white walls to ache after darkness.

you roll your eyes. the countless hours of him trying, but failing, to get you to to hide your facial expressions weren’t a reminder of it all. you could never hide your love or even far worse expressions from the world to see.

“I say this, because they already know.” he emphasizes. you’d had small hints of the inner circle knowing, but you’d brushed it off as just another way to get under your skin because Azriel always put the group in their place.

“mor knows, at least suspects.” you turn your attention to him. you read him in the way he hates, but so desperately loves. you can feel his hesitation to touch you, but when you reach out and place your hair down his torso, he reaches for your cheek.

“mor knows you’re my mate.” a breath hitches in him before he continues, “and Rhys acts like he doesn’t know, but he’s also just like you,” he taps his finger against your nose, his face inching closer, “horrible with facial expressions.”

you attempt to roll away from him, before he pulls you back into his body, a perfect fit for his, “so now will you tell me what’s bothering you? I’ve admitted far too much tonight.” his lips hover your neck, his warmth heats your body that you can’t help but sink into it.

“I suppose I can.”

[drghostwrite]

Dark Nights

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x preg!wife!reader

Summary:

********************************************************

"You can't ask that of her!" Natasha yelled across the table. You were both called into a conference room with Fury and agent Hill, they were talking about a last-minute mission though your wife was concerned about your approaching due date. While they argued and Maria played referee you found yourself staring out the window of the large conference room a million things running through your mind, one hand running along your bump as your baby kicked.

"And who are you to decide that?" Nick Fury shot back at the other agent.

"I'm her wife." Nat responded.

"Oh because that's stopped other agents before." He responded

"Fury you know I respect you but that's my wife, the mother of my child, our unborn child that in case you haven't noticed she's carrying."

"Okay, okay, before this goes any farther... How about we ask Y/N, she is sitting right here." Maria finally spoke up, motioning to your distracted form.

"Y/N?" you're wife gently called.

You rubbed a hand over your eyes trying to clear your head taking in a gasp before refocusing your eyes on them, "If and I mean IF I were to agree to this what all would it entail?"

"Well that..."

"No I want full disclosure, no more confidentiality and clearance levels, if I'm doing this and potentially putting my life and the life of my unborn child on the line I need to know everything." Nat sat next to you and turned to Fury.

"We had a situation a few years back, an agency that's been working against SHEILD, they used to be a part of Hydra but they reformed, they have recruited agaents and took over one of our smaller compounds, though it's to be evacuated this week to keep their identities a secret, we need someone to get in ther."

"That's where I asked why they picked you with being on leave."

"My main concern isn't getting you in, it's the systems on the inside, all the coders did was build into the SHEILD mainframe, they have no access to us but they have similar systems so I need someone that's a trained agent, and good with the computers, it would be in and out, need to know basis, all I need you to do is get in, crash their systems and get out."

"So that's where I come in?"

"Exactly."

"Okay, in and out, only on the condition that you do have agents on site and Natasha is in the command center, I want her in my ear at all times."

"Whatever gets you onboard, let's get you briefed and prepped for the field." Fury said.

---time jump---

You turned down the hallway, dimly lit by soft baseboard lights, you turned another corner but quickly pushed back when you saw two guards stationed outside the control room, any other time you would've just incapacitated them both but being 36 weeks pregnant wasn't helping you much.

"Natasha?"

"Y-Y/N? I'm r-r-ri-ght here what'sss go-going on-n?" The intercoms were breaking up which meant your job was going to get that much harder. "Two guards outside the command room, change of plans."

"Detka please, be careful."

"Will do, intercoms are getting scratchy, if this is it till I get out of here, I love you Natasha."

You made the decision that if you couldn't get in the control room you could still shut it down remotely, so you backtracked and took some different turns stumbling upon the old director's office, silently patting yourself on the back and opening the door.

You walked over to the desk, and brushed your hand along the command bar that's built into the desk, the hovering screens flashed to life. You swiped moving the screens around, they asked for your password and thanked Tony Stark for giving you a built in back door, when Ultron took over he built a back pathway that allowed you access but nothing was associated to you as a person so you had access to the entire system without anyones knowledge. You quickly started working pulling up the mainframe and started untagling the mess the rebellion had created, you were so close to unraveling the whole thing when you felt a sharp pain running through your abdomen.

You stopped in your tracks waiting to see if it was just your imagination, but then another one, this time catching you off guard causing you to keel over using the desk for support. "shit, shit, shit... this can't be happening." you said worry flooding your features, you tried calming yourself but you knew what this could mean.

"Natasha?" You called over the intercoms, but no response so you tried again but you realized there was no signal, you were alone and going into labor. You thought about backtracking and alerting them but as you went to exit the office you heard footsteps, quickly swiping the screens dark again you watched as the guards walked by standing next to the door frozen, you felt the warm liquid running down your legs and realized that this was it, the night just went from dangerous to deadly if you didn't get help quickly. Your water just broke and you were by yourself in an enemy compound with no way to communicate with anyone outside.

You cringed as another contraction took over your body pressing a hand tightly under your swollen bump, "Oh baby not now, please not now." you brought the screens back up typing rapidly, taking the mainframe down meant potentially setting off a bunch of alarms which meant that you would be exposing yourself in the height of labor.

"Okay wait if this is built into the SHEILD mainframe I can get ahold of your other mommy...Oh God..." Another contraction took over, you slid to the floor, pulling out your phone you connected it to the computer sending an "SOS" to Nat hoping that she would get it in time.

"Okay baby, this is me and you until we get help, so I'm gonna need you to slow down a little bit." you ran a hand over your bump closing your eyes and leaning against the strong desk.

You moved quickly into the adjoining room moving into the corner, grimacing at the pain of your baby trying to make it's way into the world, "God you're as impatient as your mother...Nnngghh."

You heard the door to the office start to open and held your breath, hearing light footsteps, and saw as a light scanned the room.

"Y/N... detka are you in here?" you heard a whispering voice call out.

"Natasha?" you called, you listened as hurried footsteps moved towards you, the door swung open revealing your wife. As she looked in on you her worst fears coming true, she quickly got down in front of you, running a hand soothingly along your thigh.

"Y/N what's going on?"

"It-it's the baby...Nnghh, Natasha our baby is coming," you said and tears started to fall, you were a trained agent one of the best to ever step foot in SHIELD, you were an Avenger a super soldier, but in this moment you were scared out of your mind.

"Um, okay baby it's okay."

"M-my water broke...we need to get out of here"

"Okay, Y/N it'll all be okay, Maria is outside getting a hold of Steve she's calling in a rescue team, you know Bucky will be breaking down that door as soon as he finds out."

"I-I cannghh..." you gripped her hand throwing your head back gritting through a contraction, "I got you baby, just breathe."

"Nat this is happening now."

"Okay, then let's do this." she said as you slowly shook your head agreeing with her.

"Okay, my pants you gotta help me." you said pushing at the waistband, she quickly hooked her fingers in your pants pulling them off along with your panties and laying them to the side.

"Y/N, I can see it... I can see the head."

"Whaa- no I-I no this wasn't supposed to happen like this... Nat I can't do this... Hhahh, I can't do this."

"Y/N Romanoff yes you can, you are my wife, one of the strongest people I know I've never once seen you back down from a challenge or a threat and you protect the ones you love so fiercely, I never once doubted starting a family with you, so if anyone knows, I do. I know that you can do this."

"Woouuu...Nnghh." you tried but these contractions were getting closer and closer, "I-I need to push."

"Okay, follow your body." you pushed, your nails digging into Natasha's shoulder as she was bent down in between your legs, she was reassuring you while you fought through a few more contractions.

"Okay Y/N head is out, just a couple more and we meet our baby." you tried to answer but the contractions were too close, you pushed a couple more times before your wife was holding your newborn in her arms.

"It's a girl, we have a baby girl." you listened as her cries filled the room, you started feeling lightheaded.

"Natasha I don't feel so good."

"Y/N, I-Y/N..." she said noticing the blood, you were bleeding fast and she realized that you needed to get out of there asap.

She heard as the door to the office crashed in, "Y/N! Natasha!" you heard Bucky yell out, he moved around the room and stopped outside the door hearing your newborn daughter's cries, he opened it coming in.

"Is that?"

"Yes." Natasha said tears in her eyes, and he quickly realized how dire the situation was.

"Bucky, she, the blood..."

"Okay let's go I got her." He quickly picked you up making sure you were covered and started out the door. Natasha saw the screens still live and hit the execute button, running our behind Bucky with your baby in her arms.

46 hours later and the mission had been executed, you were finally awake and safely at your home holding your baby girl, Natasha was next to you holding you both in her arms, you had minor hemorrhaging after the birth but luckily had some of the best doctors around, meaning you made it out almost completely unscathed and with a perfectly healthy baby girl. Though you and Nat quickly agreed that next time there would be no last-minute missions so close to your due date.

[mikasasrippedtoenail]

Why is the moral dichotomy always placed upon women? Why is it only women that have to be pious and self righteous? Why are women supposed to be kind and nurturing while men are supposed to be intelligent and daring? Why can't women be mischievous and loud? Why can't women be human?

[assriels]

take me to church

pairing: azriel x f!reader

summary: azriel was not a religious male, but you were his goddess incarnate and he would willingly worship at your feet until his dying breath

word count: 3.8k

warnings: smut (18+!! mdni pls), canon typical religious imagery, allusions to azriel’s work but nothing explicit

a/n: my hozier era has returned i fear

masterlist

banners by @/cafekitsune !

Azriel was not a particularly religious male, offering his acknowledgement to the Mother oftentimes in the heat of battle, on the brink of death as a curse on his lips, hoping someone somewhere would heed his plea to live another day. Whatever religious underpinnings existed within him were but remnants from ancient tradition, built into his body as steadily as his bones. But, aside from the rare moments he’d faced Death and lived, Azriel was not one to offer daily prayers of thanks.

Since meeting you decades ago however, Azriel had considered more and more changing his relative indifference to the celestial beings that reigned. He was sure he hadn’t done anything in his lifetime to deserve you as a lover — let alone a mate — but still the Mother blessed him, and for that he was more grateful than words or prayers could ever express. 

Every brush of your lips against his skin, every tender gaze and soft smile was enough to bring Azriel to his knees every night before the altar between your legs. He sang praises and hymns until his jaw was sore, desperate to pull those seraphic moans from the depths of your throat as he worshiped you ceaselessly. He pledged his life to you the moment the bond snapped for him, never having been able to imagine an existence without you by his side.

Azriel had assumed that he was condemned to a life of desolation and loneliness, rotting with guilt and insecurity for all the things he had done and all the things he could never be. But despite the blood that perpetually stained his scarred hands and the weight of his past burdening his shoulders, you never shied away. Never so much as frowned when he confessed to you the serpentine nature of his hidden work for the Night Court or the calamity he’d endured as a young, lost child. 

You had sat and listened all those years ago, delicate fingers tracing the calluses on his palm as if the lines on his hands whispered all of the things he left unsaid. You’d understood the complexities of his character, loved them as much as you loved every other part of him. 

You made your unwavering affection for him known at every possible opportunity, often massaging away the crease between his brows when you knew he was losing himself to the spiral of his unwanted thoughts. You’d kiss his forehead and run your fingers through his hair, silent but understanding as you allowed him time to open himself up to you in whatever manner he pleased.

Azriel’s adoration of you was no different. He cherished the way you confided in him, revealing to him the depths of your own darkness and fears. He would safeguard your trust with his dying breath, always and forever striving to be your safe space, a lockbox where you could store your darkest thoughts and insecurities without fear of judgment. 

Just as you had always done for him. Just as you were doing now.

In the comfort of your shared bedroom in your private residence, you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, rolling on to your toes to kiss the back of his neck while he undid the intricate laces and buckles of his leathers. Your deft fingers soon joined his in the process as you both worked in comfortable silence to unfasten the tediously complex web of clasps. 

The tension in his shoulders and the microscopic ruffle in his brow was all you needed to conclude that his latest task was a gruesome one. One of those missions that tended to stick around, following him and taunting him until his guilt festered and spread. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, voice steady as you removed the last of his Siphons secured tightly around his bicep. It was an effort not to gawk at his exquisite physique that lay hidden beneath the constricting leathers; no matter how many times you’d seen Azriel shirtless, you didn’t think you’d ever get used to the sight. 

He hummed in response, taking a moment to survey his torso in the mirror for any cuts or bruises that needed tending to. When he didn’t spot any — most of them had quickly stitched themselves together on the flight back home — he met your gaze in the mirror and shook his head gently, “Not really.” 

Azriel was somewhat avoidant by nature, too used to minimizing his feelings in lieu of the success of a mission, but the gentle definitiveness in his tone told you all you needed to know. He’d open up about this latest operation when he was ready, but he needed time to process and think, formulate coherent thoughts about what had transpired. And as much as you wanted to soothe the emotional aches and pains you knew plagued him after every mission, you would give him that time. 

You sighed and came to stand in front of him, taking both his cheeks in your hands as you forced his gaze to yours. It took everything in him not to lose himself in those pretty eyes of yours.

Azriel could sense the worry you habitually hid in the moments after he returned home, and so he leaned into your touch, turning to kiss the heart of your palm before offering you reassurances, “I’m okay. Promise.” 

Azriel held his pinky out cutely and you chuckled, shaking your head fondly before wrapping your own around his. You used your joined hands as leverage to pull him down to slot your lips over his. Azriel sighed contentedly at the pressure of your kiss, his long lashes fluttering shut as his hands repositioned themselves around your body. 

One hand splayed steadily on the cage of your ribs as the other made the devious trek down, grabbing a handful of your ass to squeeze playfully. 

You yelped and pulled away as he smirked at you fondly. His gaze traveled over your shoulder to look in the mirror, never tiring of how the curves of your body looked pressed against his. 

The two of you stayed like that for a long while, Azriel’s chin hooked over your head as your arms wound themselves comfortably around his waist. The cadence of his heartbeat was one you were well acquainted with, like a steady metronome that measured itself to the beat of your own heart. 

When he pressed his lips to the crown of your head, you murmured, “Want to take a bath?”

You felt the near imperceptible quickening of his pulse against your ear and you pressed yourself further into his chest, reveling in the way he so instinctively reacted to every little thing you did.

“Only if you join me,” he responded cheekily, corners of his lips twitching in affectionate jest.

You hummed and pretended to think about it, shifting to rest your chin against his heart, pretty lashes fluttering as you looked up at him. 

“I could be convinced.”

Gods, how beautiful you looked. How beautiful you always looked. Your charming allure caught Azriel off guard every single time you merely breathed in his direction, and he briefly wondered if he’d ever get used to the ease in which you enchanted him without even meaning to. 

Unable to resist, his hands came up to cradle your jaw, supporting your neck as he bent down to kiss you, his nose brushing affectionately against yours as he pulled away. 

“I’ll carry you,” he offered, lips brushing your skin, hazel eyes never once leaving yours.

“Deal,” you said, laughing delightedly when he lifted you, throwing you playfully over his shoulder to make a beeline to the bathroom.

Running a bath — a normally automatic part of Azriel’s routine — was made infinitely harder when he was so busy pressing his lips to your jaw, your cheeks, your mouth. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him tonight — maybe it was the adrenaline from a hard task completed, the warmth of home coaxing him to let go and savor you — but he wasn’t complaining. And neither were you, if the way you matched his fervor was anything to go by. 

When both of you finally settled into the warm water, he sighed in contentment, lazily, adoringly watching as the tension eased out of your shoulders. 

Before you came into his life, Azriel had never really understood the desire to worship. He knew logically that it was an act of devotion, but never did he really feel the inclination to pray to a god in thanks.

But it was moments like these — the wonderfully mundane moments of bliss with you — that finally made him understand. If the Mother was anything like you, it wasn’t difficult for Azriel to fathom a devotee’s need to pray.

He thought this as he ran his soapy hands gingerly over your body, as he buried his fingers in your hair to massage your scalp. If you were his goddess, then these were his acts of reverence and he would practice until his physical body no longer could.

And when you did the same for him, when you gently scrubbed his back and wings and arms and chest with the deliberation and gentility of an artist with a craft, he thought that maybe this gratification was what the gods felt when their followers prayed. 

After a while, once the soap had run down the drain and the water was warm and clear again, you settled against him with your back pressed to his chest. 

It was in that moment he realized the arousal that had slowly eked its way into his bloodstream; he had been too busy basking in the feel of your fingertips on his aching muscles to realize that your lovingly innocent touch had made him hard. Embarrassingly so.

“Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly, his attention now on the way his cock pressed so tightly against your lower back.

Your laugh — melodic and lovely — curled around his ears in a lover’s embrace, “Don’t be sorry. I’m irresistible, I know.”

He knew you’d meant to tease, but he couldn’t help but agree; if he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that you’d casted a spell on him to ensnare his unyielding devotion to you. Your head fell back onto his shoulder and you captured his chin in your fingers to tilt his lips towards yours. 

This kiss, unlike the ones you two had shared earlier in the night, was much more insistent, revving your desire with each stroke of his tongue. 

His hands remained frustratingly chaste on the curve of your waist, and you squirmed in his embrace, willing him to touch you. The pressure of him against your back and the feel of his mouth — now leaving a scathing trail of little bites down your neck — pressed to your skin left the space between your legs slick with a wetness unattributable to the warm bath water. 

Your hand settled over his and for a brief moment your mind flickered to appreciation of the ridges raised by the scars that wound themselves like vines up his fingers to his wrists. Azriel had always been somewhat self conscious of the puckered skin of his hands, but you stood firm in the belief that they only served to make him that much more wonderful. 

(And you couldn’t deny the pleasurable sensation they added when his fingers were buried inside you. But that was neither here nor there.) 

You guided his touch as he reared back up to kiss you again. You led one of his hands down between your legs and the other to your chest, where he eagerly played with the peak of your nipples. 

“Oh?” he intoned, amusement coloring his inquiry at the feel of how wet he now realized you were. 

“Sorry,” you muttered, mimicking his earlier apology with much less sheepishness.

“Don’t be sorry,” he mimed back to you. His hands fell into a practiced rhythm, circling your clit with delicious pressure. 

You arched into his touch, moans falling from your lips as he teased your entrance before he mercifully sank a single digit into you. The stretch was a welcome feeling, but it quickly dissolved into the need for more. But it seemed that Azriel was in no hurry, languidly alternating between lazy strokes and nonchalant circles.

You arched again, silently pleading with him to give you more as you gripped his knee beneath the now tepid water. Though the heat of your body alone was probably enough to re-warm the bath. 

Azriel indulged you, unable to resist your alluring pull. He added another finger to his ministrations, blissfully dizzy with the sounds falling from your lips. His other hand snaked from your nipples down between your legs, timing his well placed caresses of your clit to the unrelenting plunge of his fingers. 

He knew you were close — so quick, he thought with a lethal satisfaction — by the octave of your moans and the desperate way your hands fought for purchase on his legs, your breasts. 

He bit down on that wonderfully tender spot at the junction between your shoulder and neck, and shivered when he felt you clench around his fingers, walls pulsing temptingly around his fingers as you came. 

Azriel captured your lips with his own once more, prolonging the pleasure from your release for as long as possible. You shifted to straddle him, never once breaking the kiss as the water sloshed dangerously close to the lip of the tub. 

The way you ground your hips down onto his had him groaning, eyebrows furrowing with the effort to restrain himself. He could take you now, could give in to your attempts to guide him inside you, but you were shivering, goosebumps raising the skin on your back and shoulders as the chilled water and even chillier night air caressed your form. 

Besides, his mind was working in overdrive, crafting plan after plan to have you keening and arching for him, all of which required a more comfortable setting than the marble bathtub in your bathroom. 

He stood with ease, looping your legs around his midsection to carry you back to the bed.

He tossed you softly — though quite unceremoniously — onto the bed, and you would have complained about getting the sheets wet, but 1) you knew Azriel would make an obscene joke about how they’d get wet anyway and 2) the feel of his cock grinding against your clit was enough to rob your consciousness of any coherent thought. 

Azriel was murmuring sweet endearments into your damp skin as he made the excruciatingly slow trek down your body, his lips mapping a tedious trail of kisses down your torso as if he were committing each ridge and valley to memory in fear that he’d lose his way on the journey back. 

Finally, finally his mouth found that wonderfully sweet spot between your legs and he licked a broad stripe up the length of you. You shivered as he lingered, tongue lazily alternating between teasingly shallow strokes inside you to wide circles around your clit. 

It was torture of the purest kind that he wasn’t giving you exactly what he knew you wanted, and by the wicked glint in his darkened hazel eyes, you could tell he was being intentional. Your fingers found their home in the impossibly silky and slightly damp strands of his hair as you attempted to pull his mouth tighter against you, petulant pout curving your lips downward.

His responding chuckle was enough to make you groan, the reverberation vibrating against your cunt before settling tantalizingly in your bones. Azriel’s arms came up to encircle your legs, effectively keeping you from grinding your hips up. You tossed your head back and keened, giving in to the languidness of his affections. 

Your eyes met his at the sound of a purposely lewd smack of his lips against you, and you felt him smirk against you before you were swiftly flipped over. 

“Azriel!”

What was meant to be a gasp of surprise quickly devolved into a moan of pleasure by the time the last syllable of his name left your lips. You were acutely aware of the sudden switch in positions as you were now straddling your mate’s head. 

He coaxed your gaze down to his with a featherlight touch down your spine, and you were met with a swirling mix of love, lust, and adoration swimming in pools of hazel. Your chest swelled momentarily and you probably would’ve said something sweet and much more coherent than what left your mouth as he pulled you down onto him and feasted. 

Azriel was addicted to the way he could make you fall apart, even from beneath you with your knees straddling his head. It was borderline sinful – an angel brought to the precipice of obscenity and seduction.

His hips shifted on the bed, body desperate to find friction. But this moment was yours, and so Azriel refrained from giving in to his baser physical desires. His tongue sang praises against your cunt, his hymns translated to the exquisite moans that fell from your lips. 

It wasn’t long before you were toppling over that wonderful edge into what felt like a never ending orgasm. You could barely register the change in your positions again, head spinning and dizzy with insurmountable pleasure; before you knew it, your back was pressed against the cool sheets of the bed, eyes glassy with a post-orgasm haze.

Azriel leaned down to kiss you then, a sweet contrast to the near indecent way you could taste yourself lingering on his lips. He took his time kissing you, sending you wave after wave of undying love and loyalty down that invisible golden tether wound tight around your heart. 

You briefly thought of returning the favor, of flipping him onto his back and putting your mouth on him in just the way you knew would coax those wonderfully rare sounds of unbridled, wanton pleasure from him. But his body was heavy against yours – a more than welcome comfort – and you couldn’t find the strength in you to pull away from the warmth of his skin. 

You arched into him as you wound your arms around his neck, pulling him closer while you encircled your legs around his waist. Relishing in the way he shuddered against you, you urged your hips up to grind against his, aching for the feel of him despite having just orgasmed. Twice. 

Thankfully he obliged you, shifting to ease himself inside you, slowly – gods, so slowly – pushing into you with the deliberation and practiced self-discipline of a male centuries trained in espionage. 

Azriel let out a half-restrained groan when his hips were flush against yours, always marveling at how close you could make him without even lifting a finger. He had meant to take a few moments to collect himself, not wanting to ruin the moment with a quick release (though admittedly he was struggling), but you shifted beneath him impatiently as you whispered salacious pleas into the shell of his ear. 

The drag of his cock in and out of you was a pleasure you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to, and you couldn’t help the prurient sounds that tumbled from your lips. Though, this just seemed to urge Azriel faster, more insistent in the most delicious way. 

You knew he was close by the way his breath hitched in his throat and his fingers tightened around the flesh of your thigh. The feel of his abs flexing as he pushed his hips into yours and the perfectly timed grind of his hips against your clit filled your head with a heady, hazy bliss and you nearly forgot where you were for a moment. 

You wound your fingers into his hair to steady him as you bit kisses into his jaw, nails raking a gentle path of encouragement down his back.

“Come for me, Az,” you half-pleaded, half-commanded.

And he did. With a gasp and moan so beautiful it sent you into another spiral of pleasure, arching into him as he whispered incoherent praises into your neck. 

As you basked in the aftermath, chest heaving and legs tangled beneath your fluffy duvet, Azriel couldn’t help but feel a lightening in his chest. He once again thought of how he had been shown so much mercy, so much kindness by the Mother, the gods – who or whatever governed the celestial plane of existence – to be bound so graciously to you. He never ceased to be amazed that he had met his goddess incarnate and had the overwhelming honor of loving her. 

With your cheek resting above his heart, he didn’t doubt that you could hear the quickening of his pulse when he pressed his lips to your hair. “I love you.”

Those three words were his prayer, his penance, his praise, and he would never stop offering them to you so long as you allowed him the privilege of saying them. He could feel you smile as you kissed his collarbone, sleepily offering your benediction in return, “Love you.”

As you fell asleep, encased in the warmth and safety of his arms, he idly traced the lines of your mating tattoo, swirling tendrils of ink dancing up your hip to your waist. He always loved how they were so reminiscent of his shadows. The shadows that were now winding through your hair and tickling your cheeks in adoration. 

As he too began slipping into the sweet relief of slumber, he briefly thought of his mission – it had felt so far away, so long ago now that he was guarded within the shield of your presence – and the guilt and sorrow he’d feel in the coming days. He used to dread the aftermath of his work, never allowing himself to rest comfortably for fear that sleep would be too much of an undeserved reprieve for the atrocities he’d committed. 

But ever since he selfishly allowed himself to love and be loved by you, he had found solace in your embrace. You couldn’t offer absolution of his sins – if such a thing even existed – but he was certain you were his salvation. An offering from the Cauldron – that he was convinced he was wholly unworthy of – as a chance to right his wrongs. You listened and loved him and saw him for all of the parts he was ashamed of, and for that he would willingly spend the rest of his life striving to deserve.

(Though he was sure you’d frown at him and adamantly insist that he need not do anything but exist to deserve the love you gave him.)

As he let himself descend into the comforting darkness of sleep, Azriel thought that if he would be punished in his next life for the sins he committed in this one, as long as he’d be able to love you through it all it would be worth it. 

[hauntedbythenarrative]

On female rage

Medea, Euripides//Cassandra, Florence + The Machine//An Oresteia, Anne Carson//Study for Lady Macbeth (1851), Gustave Moreau