#gwyn fic

[dawneternal]

Just a Favor | pt 2 | Gwynriel

✦ cause so many people asked for more lol enjoy 💛

✦ Warnings: mostly fluff a bit of angst

✦ Word Count: 1.2k

✦ AO3 Link

✦ Masterlist

Is that you or some other shadowsinger flying over my house? 

Rhysand's voice pierced through the storm of Azriel's thoughts.

Something happened. Azriel responded, knowing his brother could likely hear his panic. 

Do tell. 

House of Wind?

Meet you there.

Thus, Azriel found himself sitting at the long, empty dining room table, knee bouncing as he waited for Rhys. 

It did not take long for Rhysand to appear above the balcony, landing with barely a sound. He joined Azriel at the table, a gleam in his eye as he took in his brother's anxious fidgeting.

"Is this a good something or a bad something?" Rhys asked, conjuring a bottle of scotch and two glasses.

"I have a mate," Azriel said, eyes wide. Rhys stopped pouring, eyebrows rising. 

"Who?" 

"You know who, don't you?" Azriel tilted his head. Indeed, Rhys's violet eyes glowed with something knowing and gleeful.

"The redheaded Valkyrie you follow like a lost puppy?" Rhysand grinned and slid a glass to Azriel.

"I do not," Azriel frowned. 

"You do, and it will only get worse if she is your mate," Rhysand took a sip and winced at the burn, "Is she?"

"Yes," The shadowsinger breathed, a blush creeping up on his cheeks. His lips parted like he was still in awe of it.

"So then tell me the story," Rhys prodded, grin only growing.

Azriel rubbed the back of his neck, turning his gaze to the marble floor. He hadn't considered the fact that the High Lord may not be very happy about his agreement with the valkyrie. 

"Well...she told me that she wanted to have her first kiss," As predicted, Rhys's eyebrows drew upwards as he listened.

"She asked me to either kiss her or find someone nice who would," Az continued. 

"And you kissed her?" Rhys's face was unreadable.

"I did."

"And as her teacher, you thought that would be a good idea why?"

"...because she is pretty?" 

Such frivolous reasoning from the solemn spy master. Rhysand tipped his head back and roared with laughter. His cheeks had turned pink, eyes gleaming with happiness for his brother. Never in their long lives had someone rattled him so.

"You kissed her and the bond snapped?"

"Yes, and I don't think it snapped for her," The anxiety returned to Azriel's eyes, his smile faltering, "What am I going to do?"

"Stop for a minute, Az," Rhysand said softly, leaning forward to grasp Azriel's shoulder, "Just celebrate for a moment. You have a mate. An incredible, formidable, beautiful mate."

Azriel smiled. There was such deep relief in it, the weight of centuries lifting. Tears glistened in his eyes, a couple spilling over onto his rosy cheeks. His body felt strange, unsure what to do without the ache of longing. He thought his shadows would be a swarming mess but they were utterly still.

"Yeah," Az croaked, looking at his brother with such joy that it brought tears to Rhys's eyes as well. "I have a mate. She's my mate."

***

Nesta found Gwyn crouched on the bank of the stream, elbows propped on her knees as she watched the bubbling water in the moonlight.

"Gwyn?" Nesta asked softly, trying to catch a glimpse of her friend's face behind the curtain of copper hair. 

Gwyn turned to her, face pale and eyes wide, freckles stark against her skin. 

"He kissed me," She whispered. Nesta settled next to her, resting her bare feet on the rocks at the edge of the water. 

"Was it bad?" Nesta's brows furrowed. 

"No," Gwyn breathed, a hint of smile gracing her features, "It was really good. But then he freaked out and flew away?"

Nesta's eyes widened, lips drawing into a thin line. 

"I know," Gwyn whispered, mirroring Nesta's expression, "You don't think...." 

"Maybe," Nesta searched her friend's eyes, the same color as the bobbing flowers growing among them. Gwyn was scared, worried...but there was something else gleaming there. Something that wanted it to be true. 

"I guess you'll have to wait for him to tell you," She said, reaching out to twirl a strand of her friend's hair. 

"What if he doesn't?" Gwyn asked, chewing her bottom lip, "I don't want to get my hopes up."

"I can pry," Nesta grinned, "If he tells Cassian I can get it out of him easily."

"No," Gwyn smiled and shook her head, "I want to know from him."

They settled into silence for a long moment, listening to the water rush over the rocks as it reached toward the ocean. Nesta wrapped an arm around Gwyn's shoulders and tucked her in close. 

Gwyn's thoughts whirled. She felt a giddy, fluttering hope and a terrifying nervousness when she remembered the shock on Azriel's face. And the idea that she might be wrong produced a bitter ache in her chest. If she was right, when would she feel it, too?

"It was good?" Nesta sang, drawing out the last word, pulling Gwyn from her contemplation. Gwyn smiled, blushing so deeply it spread to the points of her ears. 

"It was...everything."

When Nesta and Cassian landed at the House of Wind, Azriel was alone at the dining room table. Rhysand had gone back to the River House and left the scotch behind. 

Nesta smiled to herself at the sight of the shadowsinger. He stared at nothing, eyes glazed over and a faint, happy smile on his face. They had found him in this position before, alone and brooding. But this time he did not appear to be sulking. He seemed...light. His shadows ambled around him like sleepy bumblebees.

She looked at Cassian and nodded toward the table, then silently scurried away to her room. 

"Hey," Cassian said, pulling out a chair. 

"Hey," Az murmured, pulled from his love-sick stupor. 

"What happened to you?" Cassian chuckled, picking up the half-full glass Rhysand had left. 

"I kissed Gwyn," Az answered, looking up at his brother. 

"You agreed to that whole thing?" Cassian laughed and took a sip of scotch. 

"You knew about that?"

"Nesta told me," Cassian waved his hand, "But anyways. You kissed her and you're smitten now?"

"I kissed her and the bond snapped," Azriel said, eyes alight. 

Cassian stared for a moment, glass paused halfway to his lips. Then the glass clattered into the table and Cassian was up, lifting Azriel into a hug. He spun the shadowsinger around and planted messy kisses on his cheek. 

"A mate! You have a mate, brother!"

"Put me down, you oaf," Az muttered and wiped his face, but he was grinning. 

"I'm so happy for you," Cassian croaked, a lump in growing in his throat. 

"I just have to figure out how to tell her," Azriel said. 

"Don't wait too long," Cassian nodded gravely, "We all saw what happened to Rhys."

Then his grin broke through again and he hopped from one foot to the other. "Berdara is your mate! I can't say I didn't see that coming."

"What do you mean?" Azriel demanded, reminded of Rhysand's similar sentiment.

"Come on," Cassian shook his head, giggling, "You're obsessed with each other."

"She's obsessed with me?" Az perked up at this, eyes sparkling. 

"Oh brother. You need to talk to her. Let's sit and brainstorm," Cassian pulled the chair out to sit again. 

"No thanks," Az chuckled, "I'm going to bed. But if you come up with any brilliant ideas let me know tomorrow."

Though Azriel already had a plan. He would do what Cassian should have done and ask Feyre what she wished had happened for her. He would make it perfect. For Gwyn, for his own centuries of waiting, it had to be perfect.

[azrielsbxtch]

My babies✨

Art by @frostbite.studios

[oristian]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by katie (@ktbookishclub)

I’m so excited to share this AMAZING Gwynriel artwork !!

Joining this fandom has allowed me to really explore hobbies and other interests that I just never had time for before. As this is my first fandom experience ever, I really wanted to be as engaged as possible. That being said, a few weeks ago I posted my first fanfiction ever; it can be found on both my Tumblr and AO3 — the fic is titled ‘Party Monster / High for This.’ This artwork is inspired by one of the scenes in the fic! With such amazing responses from friends and other readers, I have decided to continue writing more for the story!

Gwyn and Azriel are going to have such a special relationship and I am so excited to see where their story goes. No matter what universe, timeline, or type of depiction, they both have such an overwhelming chemistry.

I cannot thank @lyyzismess enough for such a stunning piece of work. She captured the vibe and atmosphere of the scene so well. The Queen of Gwynriel art 🤍

ART CREDIT @lyyzismess

COMMISSIONED BY — me / ktbookishclub

CHARACTERS BELONG TO — sarah j maas

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION

[sneez]

thinking about gwynplaine having speech loss episodes and using tactile sign language to communicate with dea :-) please don't tag as body horror or anything similar [id in alt text]

[queenlachimolala]

I know that when Gwyn finally leaves the library, she is going to have a long line of males trying to court her. She is very beautiful but also smart and charismatic.

Imagine her going for the first time to Rita's or a party or a ball and having a lot of handsome males fighting for her attention. I can see the Shadowsinger acting very jealous.

If someone wants to write a fic like that, please send me the link in my dms.

[i-wanna-see-some-az]

Gwyn: *looking through the window, pensively*

Azriel: woah, she's so beautiful, so thoughtful... i wonder what she's thinking about

Gwyn, in her mind: dragons can't blow their birthday cake

[gwynrielweeksofficial]

All the details in this piece by @dimalry has our hearts singing like Az’s shadows🥰

[separatist-apologist]

I cut your username out of this post because I don't want to unintentionally direct anyone over to you. I do believe you're sorry, and I also believe you didn't intend for any of the things that transpired TO transpire.

I want to answer this, though, because I genuinely believe a LOT of the people who logged out last night to flame the fic are on this website watching, and I want to speak directly to them. I'll never know who they are, and thats unfortunate because to me, it looks like a lot of other people are content to let you be thrown under the bus while taking no accountability for their actions.

I want to share this comment FROM the fic writer who responded to me when I left a comment this morning both condemning the actions of fellow gwynriel/eluciens and encouraging her to continue writing. Look at what she said. She had a mini-breakdown because a small but obnoxiously loud group of people took it upon themselves to not just leave unkind, unnecessary feedback, but to start whole threads about it, take it to other platforms, and otherwise talk shit because a story had *checks notes* conflict.

The fic is tagged: slowburn, eventual romance, AND the elain x azriel relationship. She did her due diligence as far as what she owes people- ya'll don't read tags and engage with the story like it was written specifically FOR you. First of all- it was written for ME. But lets pretend it wasn't, because I think the only reason people are backtracking is because I took offense. You shouldn't do this to ANYONE.

EVER!!!!

And I see a lot of ya'll writing your first fics and your comments are always something to the flavor of "be kind, I'm new/nervous/worried" and then you turn around and do this stuff to other writers like you're OWED your very specific vision of what these characters are, should be, or should act like.

This happens TOO OFTEN in this ship, and frankly, I'm tired of it. You guys will turn on people writing in your own ship if it doesn't adhere to YOUR specific, NARROW vision of "canon" (FANON) and wholesale bully people out, and whats left? A bunch of chronically online assholes whining that no one wants to draw art, write fic, or participate because they're afraid of you. Ya'll act like this is some moral crusade and if you ship the "right" thing, you can't possibly be a bully.

But its just bullying, dressed up as passion for the ship.

This isn't directed at you, OP- I'm talking to the other people who are letting you fall on this sword, who are absolutely watching this, who participated, and will likely to continue acting like this. But they'll be the first to scream and sob when another anonymous blog pops up to talk the same shit, and there will no irony or awareness around any of it. This is the culture some of you have created. Shocking you get it back in ten fold.

[thevalkyriesshadow]

@lplusl As per your request! A mini gwynriel fic when Gwyn asked Az for dagger handling lessons and constructing the ribbon beam (because I think we can all agree, Az definitely helped her construct it)

Enjoy!

“Shadowsinger! Hey -” Gwyn’s heart was pounding. She couldn’t believe she was about to pull the shadowsinger to the side and ask him, “- Are you free later today?”

Azriel’s brows rose, “I have to take Cassian and Nesta somewhere. Why do you ask?” He carefully placed a sword back on the rack. His fingers delicately handled the blade like it was the most precious item he’s ever touched.

Gwyn fidgeted with a strap on her leathers, “I find that I quite like the feel of a dagger -” Azriel stilled, his shadows swirling around his wings, “- and I want to be able to handle it with the same care and consideration in which you handle them.”

He swallowed hard, “You - want to practice dagger handling?” 

She smiled, “Yes! See I’ve gotten really good at pulling it out from its sheath and -” she drew her dagger, thrusting it quickly forward. The tip of the blade inches from Az’s stomach. He didn’t flinch a muscle, aside from the twitch in the corner of his mouth. “But then I don’t really know what to do with it beyond that…”

Azriel - who was usually so very contained - curled his fingers into fists. 

“I can show you,” he said, the words running together, “How to handle a dagger that is.”

Then Azriel fidgeted - the stoic spy master of the Night Court seemed to suddenly be in a rush, not to leave her, but to do whatever it was he needed to do with Nesta and Cassian.

“I’ll return shortly. Maybe…wait here? Or if you need to freshen up -” One of his shadows twirled around her disheveled braid. Caressed her cheek where a drop of sweat dripped down her temple.

“I can wait. I have my book with me so -”

“Oh? What are you reading?” He started making his way to the archway back to the House. Gwyn fell in step next to him, her face heating. 

“Uh- just an adventure novel with a little bit of…other stuff, but the political intrigue and fighting scenes are really the main event.”

Azriel searched her face, like he knew it was actually a romance novel she was reading. He stopped at the archway, turning to her, “Well I hope you enjoy your reading until I get back.”

With that, the shadowsinger was off, leaving Gwyn alone in the ring, well almost alone as one of Azriel’s shadows stayed behind, wrapping itself around her ankle, curling up like a cat in the sun.

—

Sweat poured from every inch of Azriel’s skin as he twisted around, grabbing Gwyn’s wrist and disarming her again. She huffed and growled in frustration. The sound had become Azriel’s favorite noise while they sparred in the ring.

He had returned from dropping Cassian and Nesta off in the human lands to find Gwyn perched on the wall around the ring, book in hand. He thought he had caught a slight whiff of a headier scent on the wind, but it was gone before he could assess further. 

Azriel knew Gwyn was reading a romance even before he saw the cover. He’d have to work on training her to control her tells if she wanted to be sneaky.

Now, Azriel and Gwyn stood chest to chest, her slender wrist trapped in his large hands. She glared up at him, as if he was the reason she couldn’t hold onto her dagger.

“That’s time, Berdara.” He smirked as her eyes narrowed and she ripped her hand from his and stalked to the water table. The sudden emptiness of her presence weighing on him. He followed her, “You did well for your first lesson -”

“No…I dropped the dagger every time -”

“Well, I’ve had years of practice -”

“Well, I’ve had years of practice -” She mocked him before adding, “- I have a goal shadowsinger. I want to be the first Valkyrie after centuries of the world missing them.” Azriel couldn’t help but watch her throat bob as she chugged her glass of water. He also couldn’t help the excitable pouncing predator inside him as she mocked him.

He leaned against the wall, glancing at the pole he had helped her construct. Gwyn wrapped her fingers tighter around her glass as if she too were remembering that moment he’d found her after training one day trying to put in the pole herself…

“Gwyn. What are you doing?”

Gwyn spun around, shovel in hand, dirt smeared across her face. She smiled, “Putting in a ribbon cutting pole.” She held the shovel higher and gestured to the wood laying on the ground.

“I see. And did you plan to be out here until tomorrow morning digging in the dirt? Because that’s going to take you all day and then some.”

She lowered her shovel, leaning on it as her other hand perched on her hip, “Generally, when you want to upright a beam, this is how you do it.”

Azriel glanced at the ground, then back at her, “You do realize under this dirt is solid stone, right?”

Gwyn’s cheeks reddened, “Obviously…” She tapped the dirt with the shovel, “How deep does the dirt go?”

He joined her by the side of the ring, “Not deep enough to hold up the beam.”

The look she gave him. If she had the power of death in her eyes, he’d be long gone. “So then what do you propose? I bet next you’re going to say that you and your shiny, Illyrian muscles can cut through the stone no problem?”

He chuckled. That’s exactly what he was going to suggest, “Well, I won’t be flexing my physical muscles. I could probably cut into the stone with my magic.”

She took a step back, her arm sweeping in front of her, “Be my guest. I got it started for you.” 

He quirked a brow. Gwyn was being rather cheeky today.

Turns out, Azriel had to do a lot more hard labor than he thought. His magic only cut through so much before he’d have to dig out the debris and hack at it again. He was sweating, bruised, and bleeding - thanks to a sharp rock - by the time he’d gotten the hole deep enough. Then of course the beam wasn’t actually constructed yet, but Gwyn had obtained all the right materials so at least they didn’t have to waste time finding them.

After fretting over the cut on his palm, and wrapping it in unnecessary medical wrap, Gwyn called for a break to eat and rehydrate before constructing the pole itself.

“Where did you get these materials?” He asked as Gwyn held the smaller support beams in place while Azriel screwed in the heavy lead bolts.

“Clotho knows a few people,” she said matter-of-factly. Azriel chuckled softly at that. The copper-haired priestess was resourceful, smart.

After assembling the pole and rooting it in the ground, Gwyn reached up and tied the long white ribbon onto the post. Gwyn crossed her arms and nodded her head in satisfaction as the ribbon billowed in the wind.

She turned to Azriel, “Thank you, shadowsinger - for assisting me.”

“Anytime -” his words were cut off as suddenly the ground beneath them trembled slightly and a hole, sized perfectly for the pole they’d just constructed, opened up a foot away from them. The wind blew in the trees like a tinkling laughter, the House creaked next to them.

Azriel and Gwyn shared an exasperated glance. Seems the House was also feeling cheeky today.

“I have no doubt you’ll reach your goal of becoming the first Valkyrie in five centuries, but perfection takes time and practice. We’ll meet after training twice a week -”

“Three times,” she interjected.

He held back his smile of amusement, “Three times,” he confirmed, his voice lowering. “Would that be all, priestess?”

She scrunched her lips to the side in contemplation. “Yes, that’ll do…for now.” She sauntered past him, “Have a good night, shadowsinger,” she threw over her shoulder, before disappearing into the darkness of the archway and down into the Library below.

[tues-dayy]

some Zeroes (and friends) in various hats for @fate-motif and in anticipation for season 2!

[dawneternal]

Just a Favor | pt 3 | Gwynriel

✦ Sorry this one isn't as polished as the others 💛

✦ Warnings: Nesta says bad words lol

✦ Word Count: 1.1k

✦ AO3 Link

✦ Masterlist

Azriel slept far better than he would have predicted. But he woke early, just as the first hints of pink washed through the sky. And his stomach churned, fingers cold with nervousness.

He had left her there.

Somehow, in all of the whirling thoughts and emotions of last night, he had not considered how she must have felt about being left there. Now, it was all he could think about.

He found himself padding to Cassian and Nesta's room. He knew they'd likely be pissed but he couldn't stop himself. He opened the door silently, as was his habit, and stood still beside the bed, too panicked to feel any shame over his half-clothed friends.

"I left her there," He said into the silent room. Nesta's eyes opened and she flew into a sitting position with a fierce scowl. She clutched the blanket around herself. Cassian did not move but he growled loudly.

"What the fuck?" Nesta croaked.

"I kissed her and then I left and I didn't say anything," Azriel continued.

"Yes, I know," Nesta grumbled.

"So she probably hates me," Azriel buried his face in his hands.

"She doesn't hate you," Cassian mumbled against his pillow.

"But I-"

"Azriel," Nesta said, firm, "She doesn't hate you. I talked to her after you left. She's just confused. Just send her a note, okay?"

Her voice softened by the last words. Then she smiled and bit back a laugh.

"I'll be happy to talk to you when the sun is up and I'm not naked," She said.

"You're naked?" Cassian sat up, took one look at Nesta, then threw a spare pillow at Azriel. "Get out, Az!"

"Alright, alright," Azriel grumbled and dodged the pillow.

"Next time talk to Rhys," Cassian called as his brother left the room, "He has a toddler, he's always up this early."

Azriel penned a quick note and had his shadows carry it to Gwyn's nightstand.

I'm sorry I left. I hope you enjoyed your first kiss despite my strange behavior. I'll explain when I can.

What the shadows did not report was that Gwyn was already awake, writing in her journal by fae-light. Her eyes opened wide at the sight of the shadows twirling around each other, carrying a little paper between them. They hovered near her, waiting for her to take it.

"Thank you," She whispered, plucking the note from their hold. They disappeared into nothing, and Gwyn wondered if they had gone back to the shadowsinger or if they had stayed to watch her and report back to him.

Either way, she opened the note, reading the careful handwriting several times. A smile bloomed on her face, accompanied by a soft blush. She could not help the leap of her heart, the wild hope that started to grow there.

So he did have something to tell her.

"You're probably wondering what this is about," Azriel said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

The three sisters exchanged looks between them before turning toward the solemn shadowsinger. Each bit back a smile.

"Go on, Az," Feyre said softly. Azriel took a deep breath before speaking again.

"I have a mate," He announced, shrinking into his shoulders as he said it.

Nesta smiled, a genuine grin that revealed her dimples and bubbled over with joy. Feyre squealed and clasped her hands together. Elain smiled, tilting her head to the side and crying out, "Oh, Az!"

Azriel grinned at the floor, blush creeping over his cheeks. The same blush that insisted on returning every few minutes for the last 24 hours.

"Who is it?" Feyre whispered, as if the culprit could be listening. Nesta and Elain leaned in, eyes gleaming.

"Gwyneth," He said savoring the name on his tongue.

"Oh thank Gods," Nesta put a hand on her chest, "If you had said another name I don't know what I would have done."

"What?" Azriel furrowed his brows. He noted that none of them looked very surprised.

"Nothing," Nesta waved him away, "Keep going. What do you need us for?"

Feyre and Elain hummed in agreement.

"Well, since you're all mated, I thought I would ask for advice. About how to tell her," He said, wringing his hands, "I guess I have the upper hand in that way. Rhysand was all on his own."

Feyre smiled, blushing at the memory of her temper and poor Rhysand trying to win back her favor.

"It may not have been ideal," She laughed, "But it's a memory we laugh at, now. I don't really think you can mess this up, Azriel."

"That's what I'd thought about Rhysand," Az chuckled.

"What about Lucien, Elain? How did he do?" Feyre asked.

From the way Elain's face turned deep red and she began to stutter, it was clear that Lucien must have done alright. At one point, that may have made Azriel jealous. But right now, he just wanted to know how Lucien had done it.

"I think she'll just be happy to know," Nesta said softly, thinking of the hope in Gwyn's eyes the night before.

"What if...." Azriel trailed off, too shy to name any of the worries cycling through his head. This whole thing had driven him to be more expressive than usual but it was still a struggle.

"You've been good friends for a long time, now," Elain pointed out, "I don't know her like Nesta and Feyre, but I still think there's a very good chance she'll return your feelings."

Azriel gazed up at her. The longing in his eyes was painful to look at.

"Listen," Feyre said, reaching out to take hold of his hand, "Just take her somewhere pretty and tell her the truth. Nothing fancy, nothing wild, just you and her and the truth."

Azriel repeated the words as a whisper, mind whirling with ideas.

The ladies stayed a while longer, helping him brainstorm and congratulating him a few more times. And offering some advice about what he should wear.

When their meeting was over, he found himself reaching the front gate at the same time as Elain. She paused and looked up at him, her eyes alight. She looked lovely, hair loose and little flower earrings dangling from her ears. Azriel thought of the time so long ago when they had been in a similar position. Then, she had been a rosebud. Something closed off. Now she was a blooming rose, thriving and overflowing with beauty and contentment.

"I'm happy for you," She said, smiling up at him.

"I'm happy for you, too," Azriel said sincerely, "You glow, now."

"I found my sunshine," Elain's eyes glittered, "And I think you did, too."

[azrielsbxtch]

And if I say SJM is taking Azriel on the same romantic journey as Chaol….

Mor is his Aelin. He truly loved her. It was real to him. But due to circumstances he has to let her go.

Elain is his Nesryn. Mutual attraction but the relationship is clearly going nowhere.

Gwyn is his Yrene. The one he never saw coming.

[oristian]

PARTY MONSTER / HIGH FOR THIS

SUMMARY — Azriel teaches Gwyn how to smoke on a dirty frat house couch. (17+ RATING)

NOTE — (Re-uploaded after I fully finished) This is my first fan-fiction I have ever written, so I am not fully certain on the etiquette. The idea was supposed to just be a small scene, less than one-thousand words, but I had such an urge to finish it out. Let me know if you all would like to see a part two, or to flesh it out into a full-length fic! You can also find this on Archive of Our Own

WC / TAGS — 3,713. Stoner Azriel, Good Girl Gwyn, Modern AU, College AU, Exhibitionism, Mentions of Drugs

Azriel sprawled widely on the velvet couch, his long legs spread to where their knees were almost brushing. The heat radiating from the closeness of their bodies sent pinpricks and shivers down her spine.

He watched her lazily from his peripheral as he raised the end of the blunt to his lips, inhaled for five counts, and removed the joint from his full, red mouth. His lips pursed momentarily and then he settled back against the couch, parting his mouth and releasing the smoke into the dimly lit room—his eyelids fluttered closed with the exhalation. Gwyn observed him with a bated breath, her hands clenched into tight fists against her lap, and a buzzing numbness at the back of her head.

Azriel dangled his left arm over the back of the couch and reclined further back, the movement sending the end of his semi-cropped shirt riding up the expanse of his abdominals. The muscles flexed under the drawn-out stretch—a single vein disappearing into the waistband of his tight black jeans—and Gwyn drew her focus away quickly, her cheeks dampening with heating.

“You wanna hit?”

Gwyn tensed, her knees knocking together and her copper-brown hair flying over one bared shoulder as she met his unwavering stare. His hazel eyes were tinged pink and his lids low over the irises, his long lashes casting shadows against his deeply tanned cheekbones. He slowly tiled his chin downwards to the hand he had offered towards her, the blunt pinched between his thumb and index finger.

Gwyn swallowed slowly, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “Does it … taste funny?” From her vantage point, the blunt appeared to be a spit-wet piece of thick paper with ashes dusting one end—the smell alone had her nose wrinkling. She raised a single eyebrow in question, but leaned forward nonetheless, driven by the curiosity of the whole situation.

Azriel’s lips quirked upwards into a leisurely smirk. He raised his hand upwards and a bit more closer to her, a chuckle resonating lowly in his throat. Gwyn traced the movement of his Adam’s apple as it bobbed with the noise, her lips parting slightly and a dry feeling in the back of her mouth.

“Only one way to find out, Princess.”

Gwyn quirked an eyebrow at the underlying challenge lacing his tone, the amusement lilting his words. The smoke clung to his breath, brushing over her skin, as he scooted closer to her, their knees fully touching. “Here,” Azriel mumbled as he helped her steady the blunt between her fingers—the areas in which his fingertips brushed sent jolts down her arm. “It’s gonna be a real bitch ‘ya first time.” Gwyn felt a bubbling, “And what says this is just my first time?” in her throat, but she pushed it back down; there was no reason to lie, given the racing speed of her heart and the pooling of heat under her freckled skin.

“Raise it up to your li—good girl,” he said with a sly grin. Gwyn placed the damp end of the blunt against her mouth, looking over at Azriel for both reassurance and next steps. He sat up and reached for the lighter sitting precariously on the edge of the acrylic coffee table. He flicked open the metal tip and placed the open end against the burnt side of the joint. “When I light this,” he said, his hazel eyes boring into her teal, “inhale for as long as you can. Tap my thigh if it gets to be too much—just don’t drop it. It’ll burn like hell.” He rubbed a scarred thumb against one of her pale thighs, the digit sliding just under the stretch of her leather miniskirt. Gwyn was acutely aware of any place his skin met her’s.

Azriel glanced upwards under his lashes and Gwyn nodded tersely, beginning a countdown from ten in her mind as he flicked the lighter and ignited the joint. Gwyn inhaled for a count of two before her throat spasmed and a cough built in her chest. She quickly pushed Azriel away from her and turned her neck, coughing deeply into the crook of her elbow. Her eyes watered and her ears buzzed as she hacked sideways for a few seconds, gasping for breath at the end of it all. Gwyn reclined back against the couch and inhaled deeply, wiping the remaining tears from her eyes. She felt a jerk beside her and glanced over at Azriel laughing into the palm of his hand, his shoulders moving with the effort. Gwyn sent a pointed glare his way and huffed as she crossed her arms around her torso. Azriel held up his hands in surrender.

“That was awful,” Gwyn grumbled, an embarrassing tinge pinkening her cheeks. Azriel rubbed his thumb over the head of the lighter, the blunt securely back between his fingers. After a breath he said, “I could help you. It would be easier than you trying it on your own.”

Gwyn sat upright as Azriel again scooted closer to her, their shoulders knocking together as he adjusted his weight on the sinking cushions. “I’ll take a hit,” he muttered slowly, raising a hand to move the stray strands of hair back from her face, “and all you have to do is sit pretty and open your mouth for me.” The lazy smirk pulled at his mouth once more and Gwyn felt her attention diverting to the swell of his bottom lip as it catches against his teeth. “Open my mouth?” She repeats as a whisper, as she leans ever so slightly into his bubble of space.

Azriel craned his neck to inhale from the blunt, then turned back to Gwyn. His lips were pressed together and his right hand slid under her jaw, turning her neck just the way he needed it—his fingers tangled in her long coppery hair. As he leaned inwards, Gwyn parted her lips, her eyelids fluttering closed, her hand reaching to brace against his broad shoulder.

His upper lip nudged hers, prying her mouth wider as he angled his head down. His scent of fresh cedar and burnt ash was intoxicating, grounding her more than the smoke ever could. The hand resting against the jut of her hipbone gingerly traced upwards, venturing under the hem of her shirt, his palm flattening on the lowermost part of her waist. His deft fingers traced the constellation of freckles that mapped the expanse of her back, a singe of fire following in his wake.

The hand gripping the back of her neck eased, traveling down the length of her arm and lifting her pliant wrist onto his muscular upper thigh. Azriel used his index finger to tap three times atop the back of her hand, as if to indicate for Gwyn to use his leg as leverage if it became too much for her. His hand returned again to the back of her neck, his thumb tracing small circles against the edge of her jawline.

His breath tasted like smoke and mint, his mouth moist from the charged mingling of the air between them. His lips pressed firmly against her own, the grip he had on her neck tensing as he pulled her closer into his body—so close that Gwyn could feel his heartbeat fluttering atop her own.

His mouth flattened against hers, and he languidly moved their lips together. Gwyn swallowed the smoke pooling in the back of her throat, a soft whine breaching up and through their kiss.

“M’gonna use my tongue,” Azriel mumbled against her mouth, his breath fanning over her swollen lips. Gwyn nodded slowly, her head spinning; she was not certain if it was from the high, or from being bracketed within his scorching embrace. True to his word, both of his scarred hands gripped either side of her jaw, angling her head up towards him, and his tongue gingerly entered into her mouth. He explored her slowly, tasting her, before he urged her to respond to his ministration.

Gwyn fisted the front of his shirt, her long nails dragging against the fabric. Azriel teased his hands down the length of his body—stopping every so often to rub his fingers over her exposed, overheated skin—until he gripped the back of her thighs and hoisted her up onto his lap. Gwyn yelped, the movement jolting their lips apart momentarily and she focused blearily on the man beneath her.

“You still with me, Princess?”

Her gaze was heavy and clouded, and a limitless sort of weightlessness settled from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. “Yeah,” she managed to mumble, though her tongue was weighed down in her mouth. The dryness in the bottom of her throat was steadily creeping upwards, and Gwyn instead leaned forward to capture his lips once more. Azriel hummed appreciatively at her forwardness, hands grabbing at her waist and pulling her flush against him. Her miniskirt raked up her thighs, the seams bunched and the fabric stretching as she was spread for him.

Something swelled underneath her and every brush of her against it had a low groan resonating in Azriel’s chest. His hazel eyes had darkened into dark, blown-wide pupils as he watched her atop him, his gaze steady and intense. His hands dropped from her waist to fist handfuls of her backside, grinding her down right where he needed her—moving her body effortlessly while his mouth claimed her from the inside out.

“Azriel,” Gwyn breathed as his lips trailed from her mouth, licking into the seam once more, and down the expanse of her neck, “someone is going to s-see.”

His teeth dragged against her skin, cresting upwards until they closed around her earlobe, tugging it into his mouth. “Let them,” he murmured, the warmth from his breath sending a cascade of goosebumps down her back and arms.

Gwyn settled her fingers atop his shoulders, the pale, freckled skin of her hands a stark contrast to the deep, sun-kissed wash of him. Her hands travelled up his neck, running along the black studs in his ears, and up into his tousled dark curls. Her fingers knotted in his hair and she positioned his head against her pulse point—his lips parted and his canine scratched against the spot where her neck met her ear.

“Please,” Gwyn rasped, arching her back, the swell of her breasts flush with his broad chest.

Azriel ground upwards against the center of her, every brush of connection sending prickles of pleasure jolting up her spine. His hips rolled languidly, his legs spread wide; his shirt had rolled further up his torso, his toned muscles flexing with each punctuated thrust against her.

He chuckled at her quiet gasps and the uneven drag of breath as his teeth continued to trail down her throat and back up to her jaw; he turned her head and kissed her jawline, biting softly into the skin. “You taste so good,” Azriel hummed against her ear, brushing her hair back as his lips connected once more with her neck. “So good, just for me. My good girl.”

Gwyn felt her mind steadily becoming assaulted by him—his hands as they held her, the thick of him as it pressed against her, his every word deepening as his tone grew heavier with his arousal, the soft curls under her fingers, him. His mouth had unleashed a wildfire deep within her gut, and every passing second fanned the heat, burning her with an overwhelming intensity. Gwyn felt as if she could erupt at any moment—her only tether being the grip of his fingers pressing her down atop him, and the zipper of his jeans cool against her inner thigh.

Azriel pulled his sinful mouth back from her neck, adjusting himself as he maneuvered upright. His hand resting on her lower back held Gwyn securely in his lap, his knees knocking her legs wider to fully straddle his waist. Gwyn glanced over her shoulder as he reached for the half-used blunt and lighter from where they perched on the edge of the table. Azriel settled back against the couch, the torn upholstery tickling his flesh, and tugged his lips into a lazy smirk. “Light it for me?”

Taking the blunt between his teeth, Azriel gripped her wrist and urged her fingers to unravel from its fist, placing the lighter atop her palm. His large hand encompassed hers, raising them up towards his face, and steadied the lighter under the burnt tip of the joint. Gwyn flicked the metal top open, then pressed down on the flat piece jutting out from the side. Azriel leaned forward, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. As he settled back, his eyelids rose slowly and a content grin formed on his lips as he exhaled.

Gwyn’s eyes tracked his tongue as it traced along his plump bottom lip, wetting it, then disappearing back into his mouth.

“Can I hit again?”

Azriel quirked a brow. Gwyn took her lower lip in between her teeth, biting down and then rolling it. “You sure, Princess?” The challenge was palpable in his tone, the amusement gleaming in his hazel eyes—testing her. With a slight huff and narrowed brows over her teal eyes, Gwyn reached for his arm and dragged his hand still holding the blunt to her mouth, pressing her lips firmly over the damp end of the joint.

“Don’t hurt yourself, baby. Careful.” Azriel reassuringly rubbed alongside her thigh, his knuckles brushing her skin tenderly. Gwyn counted backwards from five, inhaling deeply as the smoke filled her lungs. She pulled the blunt from her lips and held her mouth firm, relishing in the burnt itch at the back of her throat. “Yeah, just like that,” Azriel mumbled, his fingers dancing under the hitched hem of her skirt, tracing the edge of her panties, “you’re taking it so well.”

Gwyn felt her eyelids grow heavy as she parted her lips, the smoke fanning over Azriel’s face and disappearing into the shadows that danced above them. Her head lolled to the side, the effort to hold it upright suddenly too exerting. Azriel cradled a hand against the side of her face, rubbing his thumb along her cheek.

“You’re gone, baby,” Azriel chuckled lowly, brushing the copper hairs back from covering her face.

Gwyn eased into the hand on her face, reaching upwards to twine her fingers in between his. “No,” she giggled, scrunching her nose, “m’right here.” The silver rings stacked on his middle and ring fingers were a cold contrast to the warmth of his palm and she signed contentedly, nuzzling her face further into his careful hold.

Azriel felt something spark in his chest at the sight of the woman sitting atop his lap, the dopey grin pulling at her full, pink lips, but nudged the feeling further down deep inside of him. He bit down on his bottom lip, tugging it inside of his mouth, as he muttered, “Where are you right now, Princess?”

“In your arms.”

Gwyn carried their joined fingers down to her waist, placing his hand on the jut of skin between the clinch of her miniskirt and the hem of her blouse. Her hands returned to his shoulders, trailing downwards until they were firm against his pectorals; she could feel the poke of his hardened nipples under her palms. Using his chest as leverage, she experimentally rolled her hips lower against him. “On your lap,” she said as she lifted her hips and dropped them down, creating a steady rhythm of movement—his hand on her waist clenched and unclenched, dragging her body down tighter against him, grinding slow and dirty below her.

Brushing her hair back and over the cleft of her ear, she leaned down and pressed her mouth once more against his. Their lips moved as if some insatiable ravenousness possessed them—teeth nipping at skin, tongues caressing, dribbles of spit wetting their chins, and the same smoke and mint taste of him numbing her. Gwyn flicked her tongue upwards, stroking the roof of his mouth, and Azriel groaned soundly, the noise vibrating under her chest.

Her lips trailed from his mouth, down his angular jawline, and across the wide expanse of his neck. His skin tasted like leather and sweat, a tinge of something sweet and citrus just under the surface. Azriel’s pulse raced under the movement of her tongue, and she traced the tendon, relishing in the throbbing of it against her teeth. Gwyn nibbled on his flesh, spit-soaked red bite marks and smeared lipstick coloring his neck. He twitched under her and Gwyn reached a hand back behind her, her nails tracing the ridges of him under the tightness of his jeans, and held him in place as she ground down.

“Making you feel good.”

Gwyn carded her fingers through his hair, tugging gently, and brought her mouth to the shell of his ear, “Do you feel good?”

Azriel swept his nimble fingers from the cleft of her knee, rounding the uppermost portion of her leg, and trailing a careful wake of pinpricks and goosebumps along her inner thigh. “Fuck yes,” he rasped, the hand that had been resting against her waist snaking up into her hair, taking a fistful between his fingers, tugging her head back, exposing the line of her throat. Gwyn gasped wetly, eyes rolling back into her skull. “So good, baby.”

Gwyn felt every nerve rapt with searing wanton interest, the cascade of his hands on her body an unheard symphony ricocheting through her very center. Wrapping his hands around her middle, Azriel repositioned the weight of her body to straddle one of his muscular thighs, her sensitive core brushing against the denim of his jeans.

“Ride my thigh,” he instructed, spreading his legs wider to accommodate her.

Gwyn jutted forward, knocking her head backwards and shuddering at the rough sensation of his jeans and the delicious friction between her legs. She grinds and circles her hips down against him, her miniskirt hiking further up her thighs, a tight heat coiling low in her abdomen. “Yeah, baby,” Azriel groans, sliding his hands further up her inner thigh and slipping his thumb under the scalloped end of her panties, “take what you need, just like that.” Two of his long fingers slid over her closed center, rubbing slow circles against her tight bundle of nerves, and Gwyn’s hips stuttered at the pressure.

“Don’t stop,” she whined, gripping his corded forearm in both hands and holding him in place, canting her hips down and against his fingers, chasing a far-off release.

Gwyn slumps forward, resting her forehead against his and bites down on her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth to quell the whimpers and moans that were building low in her throat. Her pulse thuds behind her ears, a deafening throbbing that pairs with the way in which her blood, her very being, sings for the man beneath her. She chases the need for pleasure, riding his fingers with a senseless sort of reckless abandon.

“Are you close, baby?” His breath fans over the side of her face, tickling the shell of her ear, blanketing her in the same potent smoke scent that circumscribes his very self. “Yes,” Gwyn sighs, her eyes glazed and unfocused, her breath ragged.

She digs her nails into his bicep as his pace hastens, his fingers unrelenting and oh so very talented as Azriel takes her to places she has only ever read about. She felt as if she was cresting a wave, the current drawing her back and forth against the hightide, and the storm threatening beneath the surface would pull her under, succumbing to her downfall. He would be her downfall, if she so allowed him to be. If she dared.

His mouth returned to her throat, lapping at the beads of sweat that trailed down her jaw and pooled in the crevice between her neck and shoulder. Azriel took his time in tasting her, savoring her, as if he was committing each freckle, each press of his lips against her skin to memory. He was deliberate in each place he so chose to leave the indentation of his teeth, marking her, claiming her. Each pass of his mouth unraveled her further, taking her apart piece-by-piece and constructing her anew all at once.

Azriel licks a line up the side of her neck and draws his mouth to her ear, “Come for me, baby.”

The tight coil in her gut untangles, snapping any sense of resolve that may have tethered her, the brewing storm beneath her skin erupting with a ferocity that was foreign to her. Gwyn heaves, whining, her hips grounding against his hand, her vision whitening and every nerve ending a static wave wherever their skin was flush. She was present, but somewhere else entirely at the same moment—her mind ever consumed by him.

Her head drops down to his shoulder, her body trembling and a budding soreness washing over her lower back, waist, and thighs. Azriel grips her chin and turns her face towards him, his hazel eyes boring into her own as he brings his hand to his mouth. His tongue rolls over each pad of his fingers, sucking on the digits—humming as he feasted on her residue, tasting her. “Delicious,” he mutters, as if a man starved. Her breath hitched in her throat.

Gwyn feels the length of him twitch against her knee and a sense of worry closes around her throat. She had been so insistent on her own pleasure that she had forgotten that he would also need the same sense of release. She made a move to ground her knee onto him, only for Azriel to lift her fully off of his lap and back onto the sunken couch cushion. Gwyn felt a pang of hurt resonate in her chest, constricting her, only for him to drape his leather jacket around her shoulders, pulling her back into his bubble of space once more. “S’okay,” he reassured, reaching behind to tug her copper hair out of the puffed collar and back behind her ears, tracing the pink that dusted the highest points of her cheekbones.

“Wanna get outta here, Princess?”

[daevastanner]

Hi. Reminder that canonically Azriel’s siphons flash and he stutters (for the first time in the whole series) when it’s mentioned Gwyn is in danger ✌️ — And this is his reaction when just a few months ago he didn’t consider Gwyn a friend 😏

[sunshinebingo]

@gwynweekofficial Day 7 - Free Day

Summary: Gwyn pulls Azriel in her bedroom when they come back from their date. It seems this night is about to end differently from their other nights. Word Count: 1.7k

Warning: NSFW!

Read on Ao3 or below the cut

Gwyn opened the door to her bedroom before turning back to Azriel. The smile she gave him was one that had been plastered on her face for most part of the evening. Tonight had not been one of their typical night outs in Velaris. There had still been dinner at their favourite restaurant and the walk along the Sidra. Their time together had still been filled with talks and laughs, and the occasional moments of comfortable silence when they simply enjoyed the presence of the other.

Gwyn didn’t think that it could be more perfect. Until a random topic of conversation snowballed into something bigger and deeper. They had opened their hearts to each other tonight, confessing the depths of their affection for each other in a way that left no room for doubts.

Trusting Azriel with her heart had come at the pace of nature, slow and steady. In the course of several months, he had gone from being her saviour to one of the persons who had taught her how to save herself. He had then grown into her friend, her confidant, and eventually the one who she longed for the most in a way she never thought she would with anyone.

As though their minds were one and the same, Gwyn stood on her tiptoes at the same time as Azriel leaned down. Their lips met halfway in a kiss. Usually, one of them would be the first to pull away, offer a “goodnight”, wait to get one back, steal another kiss, then walk away. But this time, it didn’t happen that way.

Gwyn grabbed the front of his shirt, and instead of playfully shoving him away, she pulled him closer. Azriel grabbed her by the waist and did the same with her. The kiss turned more urgent, as though they needed that final proof that they belonged to each other. Gwyn didn’t question her body as she started walking back inside the room. She held onto him tightly to prevent that he stopped kissing her to ask if this was okay like he so often did when things between them took a step further. This was more than okay. In fact, it was not enough.

Azriel’s shadows closed the door to Gwyn’s bedroom at her silent request. She walked until the back of her legs hit the grey loveseat in the room. She broke their kiss and looked into the eyes of Azriel. She couldn’t believe that this male had proudly called himself hers. Her Shadowsinger, she giggled at the thought. His shadows swirled against her ears and cheeks like they were reminding her of their reciprocated love for her.

Azriel raised his eyebrows. “What’s so funny?”

Gwyn shook her head with a smile. She turned them around and pushed on Azriel’s chest until he fell on the loveseat. His wings spread out wide open behind him. His eyes remained glued on her as she parted her legs and straddled his lap. Azriel placed his hands back on her, right at the seam of her short crimson dress that had risen higher up her thighs. Gwyn placed her hands on his shoulder and brought her face closer to his. “Touch me,” she breathed against his lips.

Azriel squeezed her thighs with his large hands. “I am.”

She lowered her hands to his chest. “More,” she said as she started unbuttoning his black shirt. “I need more.”

She made quick work of the garment and set about roaming her hands across his exposed skin. They kissed again, their lips and tongue even more eager than before. Gwyn grabbed his wrists and glided them under the fabric of her dress. She didn’t stop until his hands were spread on her backside and he firmly held her. The delicious pressure made her want to squeeze her legs together.

Gwyn slid herself forward until she was so close to him that she felt his hardening cock pressing right against her centre. Azriel groaned into her mouth when she instinctively began grinding against him. A smug kind of pride filled her at the knowledge that every reaction he was having and every sound he was making were yet another thing about him that was hers. In 500 years, and of all the creatures in Prythian, it was her that Azriel had chosen to give his heart to. And the feeling was as glorious as what his body was doing to her.

Gwyn slipped the thin straps of her dress down her shoulders until she could take her arms completely out of them. The dress bunched at her waist, leaving her breasts completely exposed and her backside covered by her sheer black underwear and Azriel’s hands.

“I want you to make me come for you,” she said, sending every ounce of confidence in her eyes as she could when she looked at him.

Without tearing his gaze away from her, Azriel brought one of his hands between them. A sigh left Gwyn’s mouth when he pushed her underwear aside and touched her there.

“Is this good?”

She couldn’t have lied even if her life depended on it. “Gods yes.”

His fingers circled her clit, glided down to her entrance and came back to that sensitive bud again.

Gwyn wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard. “I promise to tell you if I don't like something.”

His mouth moved from her lips to her cheeks and down her neck. “I also want you to tell me what you like,” he said before he dragged his tongue on the column of her throat. She suddenly regretted not having done all this sooner but immediately decided that she would definitely strive to make up for the time they lost.

“This,” she ground harder against his hand. “I love this. And this…” She grabbed a fistful of his hair and moved his head so he could pay attention to her breasts. It was not the first time that he was seeing her. But it was the first time that he was sucking on her nipples while two of his fingers were slowly sliding inside her.

The sound that left her mouth from the onslaught of pleasure was so loud that, had she cared, she would have worried it would wake the entire House of Wind. But it was nothing compared to the one that followed as an orgasm suddenly hit her. Stars exploded behind the lids of her closed eyes and Gwyn bathed in every second of the ecstasy that he brought her. When she opened her eyes again, it was to the sight of Azriel gazing at her in wonder.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, before he surged forward and pressed his lips to hers once again. His fingers were still inside her, and Gwyn felt no shame in admitting that she wanted them there for longer.

“Can I touch you too?” she asked, her hands already at his waistband.

Azriel took one of her hands and spread it on the obvious bulge between his legs. “You can do whatever you want sweetheart.”

“Thank fuck,” Gwyn muttered as she hastily unbuttoned his pants – the fabric damp from when she had rubbed against him – and released his cock.

She felt no fear nor doubt when she dragged her fingers on her sex, stopping him from removing his hand as she gathered the wetness there. She wrapped that same hand around his shaft and stroked him. She started with slow, experimental movements, watching his face for any indication of mistake from her part. She twisted her hand with a squeeze that made him close his eyes with a wince. He didn’t stop her. So, Gwyn asked,

“Am I doing good?”

Azriel let out a chuckle that made her go more wet than she already was. “You’re doing more than good. Don’t stop,” he gritted out and plunged three fingers deeper inside her.

Gwyn threw her head back and cried out. Her hands around his cock sped up like his did inside her. Her free hand pulled on the silky strands of his hair as his mouth alternated between her breasts. The shadows brushed along her spine and made her shiver.

Gwyn rode his fingers until she felt herself approaching that blissful peak again. She tightened her grip on his cock. What she mumbled in between moans and gasps could have been his name or a plea to keep going, she didn’t know nor did she care. All that mattered was the way Azriel kissed her and held her closer as she climaxed again. Her hand instinctively squeezed his cock a little harder. She didn’t stop pumping him despite her mind-blowing pleasure that coursed through her. A few more strokes of his throbbing cock were all it took for him to come apart in her hand. His cum spilled all over her hands and stomach.

It took them a little while – foreheads touching and their breaths mingling – before they both eventually came down from their high. Gwyn had once thought that nothing could beat being hugged by him. Then she had been proven wrong when she had learned what it was to kiss him. Earlier tonight, this had been bested by the confirmation that he loved her. But now, she understood that there was so much more to experience with him. Things that she had been afraid to hope for before. But not anymore.

Gwyn pulled away from him and stood on weak legs. She stepped out of the low heels she had not realised she was still wearing. Then she dragged her crumpled dress and her soaked underwear down her legs. His shadows followed the same path as his eyes did on every inch of her bare skin. A silly smile spread on Gwyn’s lips when she looked down at his cum running down her stomach.

She looked at her Shadowsinger and extended her hand towards him. He looked thoroughly debauched with his drunken smile, his hair like a nest, his shirt and pants open, and his cock out. With how stunning he looked, she needed to make sure that he ended up like this more often.

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

Azriel took her hand and stood. His answer came with a peck on her lips. Gwyn pulled him in the direction of her adjoining bathing room, her mind already considering all the things they could do while in there.

[gwynrielweeksofficial]

Happy Valentine’s day! Here’s to celebrating the wonderful ship that is Gwynriel🥰

Art by @brielyasmin Comm by @freyjas-musings

No reposts!