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serpentandlily · 7 months

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Scared to Be Happier - Azriel x Reader

Scared to be Happier - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel finds his mate in the Court of Nightmares and she is whisked away to Velaris to be saved. But when someone spends so long being beaten down and angry, sometimes broken is all they'll ever be.

Warnings: Angst, Smut (minors dni), Drug and Alcohol Usage

a/n: Heavily inspired by the song Happier by Yungblud/Oli Sykes. This one is for all my girlies who self-sabotage and break things because that is all they've ever known, who are scared to be happy because of the fear of the fall when it all gets taken away.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

A pounding on your door pulled you from your thoughts. You let out a sigh as your apartment came back into focus, mirthroot smoke swirling in the air along with the stench of whiskey. You stood from the couch, stretching out your limbs before moving to the door.

You had to kick a few empty wine bottles out of your path, the evidence of last night’s adventures.

When you pulled open the door, you weren’t surprised to see the shadowsinger standing there. His handsome face was unreadable, his eyes checking over you from head to toe. You smiled, lazily, his face shifting in and out of focus.

“Azriel,” you greeted. His eyes narrowed on your face.

You knew what you must look like to him. Kohl smeared under your eyes, hair in disarray, standing there in only your underwear and a large shirt whose owner you were unsure of.

You stepped back, letting him walk inside and shut the door behind him.

“You’re high again.”

His voice was deep, husky, as he peered around the mess in your apartment. You shrugged, leaning against the counter in the kitchen. It was the truth. You spent most of your days in a haze. One you sought after through the use of drugs and alcohol. Mirthroot helped numb your mind. The alcohol helped numb your feelings.

“Don’t act like you care,” you said, flatly. “Not now.”

Azriel let out a frustrated sigh, turning to face you. “I wish you’d stop saying things like that.”

“The truth?”

He stalked towards you, until he was so close you had to tilt your head up to stare at him. His hand raised, his knuckles brushing against your rosy cheeks. “It’s not the truth. And you know it.”

Your own hand climbed up his chest until it rested right over his heart, the heart that beat in rhythm with yours.

“I know what you’re here for,” you purred, ignoring his remark.

This was the game. Azriel would come here, pretend to care, if only long enough for the two of you to fall into bed together. Then you’d wake up and he’d be gone. And you wouldn’t see him again until he felt guilty enough to check-in on you again. After all, he was the reason you were here.

Azriel rested his forehead against yours, his hand cupping your check.

“I can’t stay away from you,” he breathed out. “I’m sorry, y/n.”

“You’re not sorry,” you whispered, staring into his hypnotizing hazel eyes. “You enjoy this. You enjoy being around someone as miserable as you. I know you, Azriel. Better than that family of yours does.”

“You know nothing,” he growled.

But then he surged forward and crashed his lips against yours. Like he always did when the conversation turned more personal. But you met him halfway, also not wanting to talk anymore. Not when the mirthroot kept your head so light. Not when it felt so good to have Azriel’s lips against yours.

He groaned, pushing you further against the counter, his hips digging into yours. His hand snaked into your hair, pulling your head back so he could deepen the kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to you. You needed this as much as he did.

The bond in your chest sang at his touch. Your body already reacting to him.

He lifted you onto the counter, parting your thighs with his leg so he could stand between them. His hard cock pressed against your barely covered center, causing both of you to moan. He trailed kisses down your jaw, to your throat, tracing his canines over the fragile skin.

Azriel wasted no time, yanking your shirt over your head and tossing it to the floor, revealing your bare breasts to him. He groaned at the sight, running his hands down your body.

“You’re so beautiful,” he growled, before pushing you to lean back so he could trace kisses down your chest, taking one of your peaked nipples into his mouth. You groaned, twisting your hand in his dark hair.

His hand slid up your thigh until his fingers hooked around the seam of your underwear and swiftly pulled it off of you, leaving you entirely naked in front of him. He moaned, dropping to his knees, staring at your glistening core.

“Fuck, I need to taste you,” he growled before leaning forward and taking a single lick up the center of your folds. Your head fell back against the cabinets at the sensation.

“Please,” you begged.

That was all he needed to hear, diving his tongue into you. You writhed on the counter as he flicked his tongue against your clit, his finger circling around your entrance. Your hips bucked as you moaned, needing more.

Azriel knew your body, knew how to force you close to the edge so quickly with just his tongue. He knew the right time to finally push a finger inside of you, thrusting it in and out before adding a second one. You mewled, your first orgasm coming quickly.

Azriel cursed as he felt you fall over the edge, as you pulsed around his fingers. He stood, still pushing his fingers in and out of you as his other hand worked to untie his leathers. You helped him, pushing his shirt off and he yanked his pants down.

You stroked his dick up and down, licking your lips.

Azriel ripped your hand away with a growl. “I need to be in you. Now.”

Before you could blink, he thrusted his cock into you, hard and fast. You both groaned as he seated himself inside of you, wrapping his large arms around your waist and pulling you tight against his bare chest. You were both panting, the bond that had still not been accepted glowed at your contact.

Azriel gave you a few seconds to adjust before pulling all the way out and thrusting back into you just as hard. He growled, his head falling into the crevice of your neck as he set a punishing pace. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he hit that sweet spot inside of you over and over again, cursing.

He pulled away, still thrusting in and out of you, to grab your chin in his hand, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” he groaned, his pace becoming faster, harder. “Your body was made for me. For me only.”

You fluttered around him in response to his possessive words. Words you knew meant nothing once this was all over. You groaned his name, relishing in the pain and pleasure of his hard thrusts.

“Say it,” he growled, his grip on your chin tightening. “Say your mine.”

“Gods, Azriel,” you moaned. “I’m yours.”

“Again,” he grunted, his thrusts not letting up.

“Yours,” you cried out. “I’m yours.”

His pupils were dilated, turning his hazel eyes black as he fucked you with a frenzy only a mate could. His free hand dipped between your legs, rubbing your clit. You cried out, feeling your second orgasm of the night building.

“That’s it,” Azriel grunted. “You take me so well, pretty girl. So fucking good. Mine. You’re mine.”

“Yours,” you agreed. The mirthroot made your head spin, the feeling of Azriel fucking you almost too much. You cried out again as your orgasm suddenly crashed through you like a wave.

Azriel cursed, fucking you through your orgasm, until he couldn’t hold his rhythm anymore. His thrusts became sloppy, erratic, as he chased after his own high. You reached a hand out, stroking down the soft membrane of his beautiful wing, pushing him over the edge.

“Fuck,” he growled loudly, burying himself inside of you as he exploded.

You could feel his hot seed inside of you. He pulled out a bit and pushed back in, making sure none of it was wasted. Your body was limp as he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you, holding you tight against his chest.

He carried you into your bedroom, laying you down on the bed. Your head was spinning now. You blinked, feeling the bond in your chest tighten at the sight of him.

“Don’t even think of falling asleep,” he commanded with a growl, climbing over you. He caged your head with his arms, his mouth attaching itself to your neck again, kissing and sucking. “I’m not done with you.”

Hours later, you watched him disappear in a flurry of shadows, only staying long enough to help clean you up after he made a mess of your body. This was how it was. He would come here, take what he needed from you and disappear. It used to hurt you more, used to tear your heart apart. Now…now you were numb to it.

You were numb to most things, angry at the rest.

But mostly, you were scared. And you knew he was too. Scared to push this any farther. Scared to dive into a territory you weren’t sure you were ready for. You didn’t belong here. You never would. You might’ve been dragged out of the Court of Nightmares but you had never truly left.

Because that place had turned you into little more than ash. It had taken everything you were and crushed it, crushed it so thoroughly that you would never be able to glue back the pieces. And the High Lord and his dogs had been naive in thinking that they had rescued you, saved you.

They had not saved you.

They had not saved you because there was nothing left of you to be saved.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

One Year Ago

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The corset you were wearing under your dress was constricting, your lungs begging for a chance to breathe. The dress that was over it was hardly much better. But the High Lord and Lady were making an appearance today and so your father had the handmaidens get you ready, making you look proper enough to be in the Throne Room alongside him.

There was a part of you that liked when the High Lord and Lady came, only because you were allowed out of your chambers for once. The chambers your father basically had you shackled in. You were his youngest daughter, finally the age to be married off, and he was worried you’d go and pull a Morrigan if you were given even a sliver of freedom.

The other part of you hated the High Lord and Lady. Hated seeing their smug faces, their pretentious attitudes. Even her stupid stuck-up sisters and the two Illyrians walked around looking down their noses at everyone who lived in Hewn City. As if you were all bottom of the barrel, the fifth under their shoes.

But your only crime in life was being born in this awful mountain.

That was enough for them, it seemed. They had no interest in helping any of the fae stuck down here that wanted out, that weren’t the awful people you were thought to be. It didn’t matter to them.

All that mattered was their perfect little city away from all the rats below. And you hated them for it. Hated all of them.

In fact, hate was all you had ever known. Bruise after bruise. Strike after strike. Torn out and stomped on after cleaning your own blood from the floor when your father was done doling out his punishments for whatever he decided you’d done wrong that day, time and time again.

There was a time you prayed to the stars for help.

But that time was over.

“Rise,” the High Lord ordered after making all of you stay on your knees for what felt like eternity.

You were quick to stand, brushing your dress down as you did. Your father was hovering right next to you, as if he were ready to snatch you away the second he deemed it fit.

Your eyes trailed over your two rulers before briefly passing over the Morrigan, Lady Death and The General, finally landing on the Shadowsinger.

He was stoic, hauntingly beautiful. But you already knew that. He was the one all the Ladies liked to pant over while their husbands were out of earshot.

As if he could feel your stare, his gaze shot to you and you went back to staring at the floor. Your father grabbed you by the upper arm, leading you towards the front of the room where the other Lords were gathering.

You spared a glance at the shadowsinger again, noticing he had moved now to the High Lord’s side and appeared to be whispering something in his ear.

You went back to acting like a pretty little doll perched next to your father. After all, beauty was the only currency females had in Hewn City. That was all your mother had taught you before she died.

Keep yourself pretty and then maybe you’d be rewarded with a husband who liked keeping you that way and would not leave bruises on your body.

Your beauty never saved you from your father’s hand though.

“Lord Thanatos,” the High Lord called out, causing the band to pause their playing and the others to go quiet. Your stomach twisted at the sound of your father’s name. “Please approach the Throne with your daughter.”

Your brows pinched in confusion as your father yanked you forward. It wasn’t the first time Rhysand had asked to speak to your father but why had he requested you to approach as well?

“My Lord,” your father said with a bow of his head. “Lady.”

He shot you a glare when you stood next to him frozen. You snapped out of your trance and gave a curtsy, keeping your eyes on the ground like an obedient and submissive female should.

“What is your name, little bird?”

“Her name is—”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” the High Lord snapped. “I was talking to your daughter.”

Your eyes flickered up, widening as the High Lord’s piercing violet ones landed on you. “M-my name is y/n, my Lord.”

You swallowed as he looked between you and your father. What could he possibly want with you?

“Okay, y/n. Tell me, do you enjoy living here?”

You glanced at your father to see his eyes narrowed at you. You nodded in answer, holding your hands behind your back to hide your shaking.

“My Lord, what is the meaning of this—”

“It is impolite to interrupt a conversation,” the High Lady sneered, holding a hand up in your father’s direction.

A muscle in his jaw clenched but he stayed quiet.

“And do you possess any power?”

You glanced at your father again, not sure how to answer. He had wanted to keep you a secret from the High Lord, worried he’d take you away once he found out what you could do, how you could benefit him. Instead, Keir and your father wanted to use you to secure a strong alliance with another court.

“A mere fraction,” your father cut in. “The girl can’t even winnow.”

You bit your lip, looking back at the floor. Your cheeks turned red at your father’s lie.

“Interrupt me one more time, Lord Thanatos, and I’ll have you escorted to a prison cell,” the High Lord growled before looking back at you. “What power do you possess, y/n? Don’t bother lying to me, little bird. I will know.”

You looked at your father again, his lips were pressed in a thin line, displeased. You looked back into the intimidating gaze of the High Lord.

“I possess the Clear Touch, my Lord,” you answered.

The power that ran in your family line. The ability to touch a person and see their memories if you were able to get past their mental barrier. The High Lord grinned.

“Good, you will pack your things and return with us to Velaris,” the High Lord declared. “I have use of you.”

Your jaw nearly dropped open and you turned to look at your father. His face was bright red with anger.

“What?!” He spat out. “You cannot just kidnap her. She is under my rule until marriage. And she already has a number of suitors, some of whom are supposed to arrive this weekend for negotiations. You can’t take her.”

Your jaw did drop open this time. You had no idea about any suitors. You quickly fixed your face back into an unreadable one when the High Lord’s gaze stayed on you.

“As far as I know, your daughter is of age now. Which means she can make her own choice,” the High Lord purred. “Which will it be y/n? Come work for me or stay here to be sold off by your father?”

The arrogance in his voice irked you. It’s like he was assuming no one would ever turn down the chance to work with him, to go to Velaris. As if he were offering you a reward. But you hated him as much as you hated your father. And you hated this court equally.

Marriage to a foreign male might be your only chance to escape from here.

You could feel your father’s heavy gaze on the side of your face. “I would like to stay with my father, my Lord.”

Shock flashed through the High Lord’s eyes for a second and your father grinned.

“Well, she’s made her choice, High Lord,” your father gloated. He wrapped his hand around your arm, right over the bruise hiding under your sleeve. You flinched slightly. “Now, if you’ll excuse—”

Suddenly, your father was yanked from you—the shadowsinger now between you and him.

“Get your fucking hands off my mate,” the shadowsinger growled lowly, his face dark and devastatingly lethal.

Mate.

That word clanged through you like metal against steel. The shadowsinger was staring down at your father, not even looking in your direction. Not even as a sea of gasps rang out in the crowd.

Mate.

He had just claimed you in front of the entirety of Hewn City. There would be no marriage now. No escaping this court. You knew what it meant to be someone’s mate as a female. He now had rights to you. You were his.

The blood left your face, your jaw clenching in dread.

Mate.

That one word had been enough. Enough for the High Lord to have you escorted to your home, made to pack up all your things to join them on their journey back to Velaris. You did so without a single word. What could you do? Even your own father wouldn’t look at you anymore. Not with the shadowsinger breathing down his neck.

And when Azriel saw the chains in your room, the ones your father locked you up with at night to make sure you could never leave, he had grabbed hold of your father and disappeared in a flurry of shadows.

Your heart was pounding as you chucked your clothes into a trunk. Once you were all packed, two females appeared out of nowhere. The shadow wraiths. They took hold of your trunk and disappeared. Your father’s handmaidens led you out to the sitting area where you waited for your mate to come retrieve you as if you were little more than some item he had purchased.

Azriel returned, his knuckles bloody and bruised. You weren’t naive. You knew it was your father’s blood on his hands. You should’ve felt satisfied at seeing it, but you weren’t. This wasn’t a victory for you. You were merely just a trade between the two males. From your father’s ownership to your mate’s.

“Come on,” Azriel said, reaching out his hand to you. “Let’s go.”

You said nothing, taking his hand as you were meant to. Shadows engulfed the two of you until you were being pulled out of the darkness and into a new place. You quickly dropped Azriel’s hand, looking around. It was a bedroom, simple but still opulent. You glanced out the window to see you were high in the sky, overlooking a city.

“We’re at the House of Wind.” Azriel’s voice came from behind you. You whirled around to stare at him. “This is where you’ll be staying for now.”

He took a step towards you and you couldn’t fight the urge to take a step back to maintain the distance between you. He held up his hands. “I’m not…I’m not going to do anything to you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. You didn’t know much about the shadowsinger, only how he tortured people for information and came from Illyria. You glanced at his wings.

You did know about that. How brutal Illyrian males were supposed to be. How they clipped their females and used them as nothing more than breeding stock.

“You’re Illyrian,” you finally said.

He nodded. “Yes.”

“I know how Illyrians treat their females.”

A brief flash of anger sparked behind his hazel eyes and you berated yourself in your head. Fuck. You were already forgetting all the things your mother had taught you. Things every female in Hewn City were taught from birth. Never anger a male, keep your opinions to yourself, always say yes when they demand something of you.

“I am nothing like them,” Azriel ground out between his teeth, his fist clenched.

You swallowed, taking another step back.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, already bracing yourself to be hit.

But Azriel didn’t advance forward to your surprise.

“I will leave you alone now. Dinner will be served at six if you wish to join.”

And then he was gone, melting back into his shadows.

You let out the breath you were holding, looking around the room once more. Your new cage. Slightly better than your last one, but a cage nonetheless. You sighed and began to unpack your things. Might as well accept your fate. You were the shadowsinger’s mate. There was no escaping this now.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You showed up at dinner, scared to anger Azriel even more than you had already. But Azriel had paid you little attention since you had been out here with all of them. Instead, he sat at the opposite side of the table, next to one of the High Lady’s sisters. They seemed to be engaging in pleasant enough conversation by the looks of it.

Good. You were happy his attention was elsewhere. Though your chest ached as you watched him exchange soft smiles with the other female, completely different than how he had been with you.

It’s just the bond, you reminded yourself. The bond you hadn’t even felt snap for you.

“So, y/n, how old are you exactly?”

“Eighteen,” you answered the Morrigan, who sat across from you.

At this, Azriel’s head whipped towards you, his brows pinched. Even the female next to him looked at you, her brown eyes filled with some indiscernible emotion.

As soon as they were all in Velaris, it was like a completely different group of people. The menacing stares, the cold voices, the disdain. All of it was gone and replaced with something warmer. Though they still watched you with suspicious eyes.

It only annoyed you further. Hewn City was something they could wipe from their hands and escape from, with no regard for those stuck there.

“Hey, Feyre, you’re not the baby anymore!” The General laughed.

“You must be relieved to finally be away from that place,” Feyre chirped.

Your grip on your fork tightened. If they all recognized how horrible that place was, then why did they insist on doing nothing to fix it? You weren’t the only one who suffered there.

You heard your mother’s voice in your head now, Always be agreeable. Say what they want you to. Don’t put up a fight or they’ll only hit you harder. Be gracious. Look happy.

You glanced at Azriel to see he was still watching you.

“Yes,” you agreed, like you were supposed to.

Yes. It was the only word you had said since being here at this table. It left a bitter taste in your mouth.

After dinner was over, they had Azriel escort you back to your room. You followed behind him, staring at his large beautiful wings. You supposed things could be worse. You could be mated to some ugly, rotten looking male. At least your new prisoner guard was handsome.

You stepped inside of your room, expecting Azriel to follow. Is this when he’d force you to have sex with him? You mentally went through all the steps your mother had told you about sex. About how much it would hurt, how it was just something you would need to suffer through in order to keep a male happy.

To your surprise, Azriel did not enter the room. But he didn’t leave either, lingering in the doorframe.

“You know, you don’t have to keep saying yes to everything,” he said. “You’re not in Hewn City anymore. You’re allowed to say no. Allowed to voice your own opinions.”

“Okay,” you replied, stoically. Was this some sort of test?

He let out a sigh. “You don’t want to be here, do you?”

You only blinked in response. He ran a hand through his hair, his beautiful face unreadable. “I’m sorry for claiming you in front of the court like that. But it was the only way your father would let us take you out of there. You don’t have to be scared anymore. No one here is going to hurt you.”

“I didn’t want to leave,” you said back. “I told the High Lord I wished to stay with my father.”

Azriel seemed confused by your remark. “Your father isn’t here, y/n. You don’t have to continue to lie. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I am not lying,” you replied.

“You…you wish to stay in Hewn City? You wish to stay with your father?”

You shook your head. Because no, that wasn’t what you wanted. But you knew you didn’t want this either. You didn’t want to be in the Night Court at all. You wanted to be whisked away somewhere else. No one cared for you here. That wasn’t how the Night Court worked.

“So you did want to come here?”

“No,” you whispered. “I do not wish to be here either.”

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw clenched. “So what do you want?”

Your brows pinched together. “I-I don’t know.”

You’d never been allowed to want for anything. You had no clue what was even out in the world beyond this court. You’d lived in Hewn City all your life. Had never been educated on much of anything. Not beyond typical things the females were allowed to learn.

Azriel’s fists tightened and then he disappeared.

You didn’t see him again until two days later. He showed up knocking on your door, telling you to pack your things. You did as he said without argument. Perhaps he was finally taking you home now to do whatever it is mates did with each other.

But to your surprise, Azriel brought you to an apartment that was nearly empty besides the necessities. He placed your trunk in the bedroom before turning to look at you, his face blank.

“You will live here now. I will not bother you, nor will anyone else from the court. If you wish to speak to any of us, you can reach out whenever,” he said, his voice ice cold. “I set up an account under your name that you can use to buy whatever you need.”

He was just…dumping you here?

“I’m meant to live here?” You questioned. “Alone?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” The disdain in his voice had you folding into yourself. “So yes. You will live here. Since I’m the reason you’re in this situation, I will cover the cost.”

All of the gentleness and patience he had shown that other female was gone, nowhere to be found.

“Okay,” you said, flatly.

He peered at you once more, searching. You kept your face neutral, not wanting to show the fear you now felt. Alone in a city. You didn’t know a single person who lived here. What would you do? What could you do?

“You know where to find me if you wish,” Azriel said and then disappeared into his shadows, leaving you standing alone in an empty apartment.

You spent the next month in a haze. Only leaving the apartment for food. Otherwise you just sat and watched people from your window.

Sometimes you’d see Azriel walking through the streets with the High Lady’s sister, exchanging soft glances, laughing, brushing up against each other.

You seethed at the sight. He had claimed you, dragged you to this city away from everything and everyone you’d ever known, and dumped you here alone just to parade around with another female.

Why had he taken you if he didn’t want you?

Why had he said anything?

It wasn’t like you could return to Hewn City. Your father would have trouble finding you suitors now that everyone knew you were the shadowsinger’s mate. Without having a use for you, you were sure your father would only treat you worse.

You were truly alone. You’d always been, of course. But though you held no love for your father, at least he had you taken care of.

Now you were on your own.

Abandoned by your own mate.

Maybe you should feel relieved that he didn’t want you. Seemed more invested in the High Lady’s sister. But it didn’t feel good either way.

Were you not good enough for him? Were you not worth the effort of courting? You’d always known your life would never be filled with soft, sweet romance. Not if you were meant to be sold off.

But to find out you had a mate, a mate clearly capable of being gentle and kind with females…just not you.

You were Court of Nightmare scum. A female meant to be used and broken and ruined at the hands of males. Not good enough for the High Lord’s brother apparently. Not good enough for sweet smiles or flowers.

Just something to claim and discard.

Something inside of you broke.

All the emotions you had been holding in were suddenly flooding out. So you finally let yourself cry.

And cry.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Months went by. You were sure how many.

You had been stumbling around late one night, trying to learn the city streets when some male had approached you. He was charming, handsome. Said he could tell you were lost and asked if you’d like him to show you around.

You said yes. After all, your own mate hardly cared about you. He never sought you out after dumping you in the apartment. Never checked in on how you were adjusting…if you even were.

You weren’t.

You hated this city and all it represented. Hated all the fae here who had never had to suffer at the hands of their own ruler.

The male had done more than show you around. He introduced you to a whole other world, one that was hidden in the underbelly of this city. Something that felt a little more like the home you knew.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Present Day

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You were woken up by the sheets being yanked off your body. You sat up, blinking the sleep from your eyes. You groaned, lifting a hand to your pounding head. Your vision finally came into focus, narrowing in on a seething Azriel standing at the foot of your bed.

Gasps came from around you and it took you a second to realize you were not only naked, but in the middle of several other naked bodies—two females and one male. You quickly pulled the sheets back over yourself.

“Get out,” Azriel growled at them. “Now.”

No one moved, too startled.

“Now!” Azriel roared. “Before I rip out your throats!”

That had all of them moving. But you stayed frozen on the bed, staring at Azriel. Silence rang in your apartment until they were all gone, leaving the two of you alone. Azriel tossed you a robe and you quickly shrugged it on, standing up from the bed.

“I thought this would be over by now, y/n,” Azriel snarled, moving out of your bedroom back to the living area. He grabbed the kitchen trash can and started stalking through your apartment. It took you a second to realize what he was doing before you cried out, rushing to stop him.

“What are you doing?!”

“This is done, y/n,” Azriel snapped, brushing you off him. “I’m done giving you access to my accounts if all you’re going to do is buy drugs and get fucked up every day.”

He grabbed a bag of mirthroot and tossed it into the trash can. You shouted at him to stop, trying to rip the trash out of his hands.

Didn’t he understand?!

You needed that. You needed the drugs, needed the alcohol. You needed it to shut your mind off, to keep the empty and depressing thoughts away. You would die without them.

“Azriel, stop!”

“No,” he snarled back at you. “This has to stop, y/n.”

“Why are you so concerned about this now?” you shouted, tossing your hands in the air. “You’ve never cared before. Why now?”

You stalked after him, trying to grab the trash from his hands but he easily pushed you away. You felt desperate tears line your eyes.

“I’ve always cared!” Azriel yelled. “I have always cared about you, y/n. But I thought you would phase out of this. I thought you just needed to explore your new freedom and get it out of your system. But you haven’t stopped and you’re out of control!”

You fisted the back of his shirt, forcing him to stop. “You have never cared for me! Just fucking leave, Azriel. This is my life. I will live it how I want to.”

“Not while I’m the one funding it!”

He glared down at you and you crossed your arms over your chest. “Then don’t! I don’t need your money. I don’t need you. I can find someone else. I can go somewhere else.”

“Really? You’d just fuck off with some other male?!” Azriel shouted. “After everything I’ve done for you?!”

You scoffed. “What the fuck have you ever done for me, Azriel?! You dragged me from my home, forced me here, and then treated me like I was nothing to you!”

“I was giving you the space you wanted!”

“No, you were busy fucking the High Lady’s sister,” you snapped. “Why don’t you go back to her if this is too much for you? I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t want this!”

“Keep Elain out of this! She’s done nothing to you,” Azriel growled, making you see red. “Elain is my friend. She sure as hell cares about me more than you do.”

“You know what? Fuck you, Azriel,” you said, pushing him away from you. “Fuck you. Fuck your High Lord and Lady. Fuck her stupid sisters. Fuck your whole stupid family! You’re right! You’ve all done nothing! Nothing! Just let us all suffer in that city while you all got to be happy here!”

“And what are you doing to help anyone, y/n? What are you doing besides getting drunk and high every single night?” Azriel tossed the trash at your feet, as if to prove his point. “All you’ve done is become a burden!”

Your breath caught in your throat and you took a step away from him. A burden? You were a burden to him? He was the one who took you! The one who brought you here!

“Then get out,” you whispered. “Get out and leave and never fucking come back.”

Azriel let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that. You know I didn’t.”

You glared up at him. “No, Azriel, I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck you want from me! You come here, fuck me and leave! How am I supposed to know what you mean?!”

“You think any of this is easy for me? You think I was overjoyed to find out my mate had been suffering in Hewn City the whole time I was living here? Do you know how much I prayed to the Mother for a mate? How much I wanted this? And now I have it. Now I have you and fuck, I don’t know what to do! I don’t know how to help you!”

“Well, you might as well give up now! I don’t want your help, Azriel. I can’t be helped! I’m not broken!”

“Then explain all of this!” Azriel shouted, gesturing at the mess in your apartment. The empty bottles, the drugs on the table. “I gave you a year, y/n. I gave you a year to adjust, to build a life here in Velaris for yourself!”

“Have you considered that I don’t want to?! I don’t belong here, Azriel. I don’t belong in this city, in this place!”

If I could tell you how I feel, I know that you’re still hurting too. No, I’m not broken. I’m just scared to belong here, scared to be happier.

You wiped at the tears pouring down your face now. Your head was still pounding, your throat hoarse from the screaming. It was too much. It was all too much.

“You know what I think? I think you’re scared,” Azriel snarled. “I think you’re scared to give all of this up. I think you’re scared to get better. I think you’re scared to let yourself be happy for once!”

“You’re one to talk,” you snapped back. “You’re just as scared as I am, Azriel, you just hide it better. But I’m your mate and I know how you feel. I can see it.”

“And what do you think I see when I look at you?” His voice was ice cold. “I see someone broken. I see someone so broken they don’t even know how to be happy. You never have, have you?”

“Have you?” you shot back at him. “Have you ever felt happy, Azriel? Of course I’m not happy! Why the fuck would I be happy here?”

The apartment fell silent as you both glared at each other, so many emotions swirling in your eyes. You hated him, hated what he had done to you, hated that you needed him, hated that you felt like you would die without him. And you knew he felt that way too, could see the anguish on his face.

Azriel whispered your name so quietly, you would’ve thought you imagined it if you hadn’t seen his lips move. He dropped to his knees in front of you, his wings drooping to the floor. Your eyes widened as he wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face against your stomach. You felt his tears wet your silk robe.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked. “I’m so sorry, baby. I don’t know how to help you. I don’t know how to do this. You think I don’t care about you, but you are all I care about. This whole world could burn to the ground and it’d still be you I looked for in the ash.”

“I am already nothing but ash,” you whispered. “I might not have your scars, Azriel, but I have been burned too. Everything has been taken from me. Everything. Of course I’m scared to love you. Of course I’m scared to be happy. I can give you nothing because so little of me exists now.”

“That’s not true,” he muttered against your stomach. “That’s not true at all, y/n. I don’t need anything from you. I just need you to let me help you. Please. Let me help you put yourself back together. Let me help you take away the pain. Let me give you a better life. Give me that chance. That's all I ask for.”

“I can’t.” Your voice cracked as he gripped you harder. “You’re right. I am scared. I’m a coward. I can’t…I-I can’t let myself be happy. I can’t let myself feel anything. It hurts too much.”

“I know, baby, I know,” Azriel whispered. “So let me help you. Let me in. Let me make you feel something. I can feel your anger, I can feel your rage inside. Take it out on me if you have to. But stop shutting me out. I’m sorry for how things started. I didn’t know what to do. I was overwhelmed, scared, hurt. But please give me the chance to make it up to you. Please, baby, let me help you. I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself.”

You fell to your knees in front of him, mirroring his position. His hazel eyes bore into yours, every single emotion he felt poured down the bond between the two of you. For once you let yourself show him how you felt. You undid the binds on your heart, cracked the barrier you had put up between the two of you. You let it all loose. Everything. Every single emotion you felt.

Azriel cradled your face in his hands. Kohl had made black trails down your face with your tears, your robe had slipped off one shoulder, your hair had half fallen out of your braid, but you had never looked more beautiful to him than in this moment. Because he was finally seeing you. The person you hid behind the drugs and alcohol. The person you hid between the sheets.

You were scarred, hurt, and broken. You had a darkness swelling in you that matched his own. You were the first sight of blood emerging from a wound, the torn pages of a book, the flame of an almost melted candle, the fog obscuring the woods. You were made of everything he was. You were his equal, his love, his mate.

You were scared and he was too. But as he pressed his lips against yours desperately, you saw a world where that fear might not exist. A world where you were happy and loved and whole again. You weren’t there now. You wouldn’t be there tomorrow.

But perhaps in the end, that’s where you’d find yourself.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

#azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel imagine #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel spymaster #acotar fanfiction #acotar x you #acotar x reader #acotar #acosf #court of nightmares #acotar fic #azriel angst #Spotify

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year

Text

That’s it, Princess

Summary: You sneak out the Keep to rile up your husband. And his punishment is...not what you thought it would be.

Based off this ask:

A/N: So I think I was possessed when I wrote this cos I blacked out halfway through so. I also changed the request up a bit to suit what I wanted to write. Hope it lives up to expectations 😁

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, Minors DNI, pussy slapping, fingering, p in v sex, mean Aemond, suggestions of a safe word, orgasm denial, name calling, Aemond creampies reader cos he wants lots of little heirs

You huff.

The sun had barely kissed the horizon to give way to the evening before you threw your embroidery to the floor, more angered than anything else. Another night. Another night where Aemond would not return to your marital chambers.

There were several excuses he made, all centering around his duties. Whether it was training, helping his grandfather, being at his mother’s beck and call or spending days with Helanea, more often than not these past weeks Aemond found more comfort in only returning to your chambers in the dead of night when you were already asleep.

Not only were you frustrated, you were hurt. Did he not realise how he was treating his wife? Yes, it had barely been four moons since the wedding and the first two moons had been heavenly. More often than not you were slotted against one another, tangled in the sheets with the heady stench of coupling in the air. But a moon or so ago, he completely flipped. Unconscious or not.

At first, you smiled at his explanations like the pliant wife you should be to a Targaryen prince. But now you felt you’d given him enough chances.

You were alone at court. Being neither a Targaryen nor acquainted properly with his sister and mother, there was no female company to preoccupy you. Day after day, it felt like you were just mindlessly existing, sewing pattern after pattern to fill the uncomfortable void that Aemond’s lack of presence left behind.

At first you thought that marrying him, bearing his heirs and living at court would be every woman’s dream. But it was quickly turning into something akin to limbo. How were you supposed to bear his heirs if he was never even around to see you? The whisperings were starting to whirl around at the lack of pregnancy. All of the critiques pointed at you.

So that was it. Fuck it.

You would give him something to be angry about. Anything, any emotion would do at this point. Just something from him to acknowledge your mere existence.

There was a perpetual frown on your face as you pulled the heavy cloak over you. You’d opted to change into a dress that did not explicitly show your status, thereby ridding you completely of jewels, all bar the ring that tied you to Aemond. It was a part of you now, and the thought of taking it off had not even crossed your mind.

With a light push of your hip against the painting in the corner of the room, the passageway opened up and the darkness and draught crept in. There was no hesitation, you were so angry. You pulled the hood up against your hair, though once you were out in the capital there was no need for it, no silver hair to cover. You were not like them and it was evident in the way Aemond had been so nonchalant to cast you aside for more important matters.

The sweet relief of the air of Kings Landing swept through your hair and over your skin and you sighed, pulling the hood down so it rested around your shoulders. Kings Landing was always an enigma to you. How so many people who looked so different, sounded so different, could all co-exist in such small quarters, shoulder to shoulder with their companions. It seemed so squished together. Some liked it. Some didn’t.

But it was different and that was certainly enough of an adventure, you were beginning to go mad counting all the tiles on the floor.

The sounds of laughter, anger and drunkenness filled the narrow streets. It was a warm evening so the majority of people were at their local alehouses, either making friends or enemies, it didn’t matter. You smiled as some of the ladies inside one alehouse were dancing, hand in hand with cups of ale in the other. It was spilling all over the floor, but it did not seem like they cared.

With a visible uncertainty that told everyone around you that you did not know what you were doing, you pushed through to one particular alehouse, smiling at the bartender. He was burly and well built, his mouth tight in a thin line, showing no warmth.

“What can I get ya?” he asked in the accent you’ve come to know as one the commoners.

With an attempt to lighten the air, you give him a smile, albeit an anxious one and take a seat at the bar.

“Just an ale, please” you say, trying to take the nervousness out of your voice. He raises an eyebrow to you, but pours a cup anyway, sliding it across the wetted bar counter to land in your hands.

The bartender braces the counter with his large arms, “I’ve never seen ya around these parts”

It catches you off guard a little when he tries to engage.

“I’m just passing through” you smile, taking a sip and wincing slightly at the bitter taste it leaves behind in your mouth. It coats your mouth differently compared to the dornish wines you’re used to.

His gaze flits to the wedding ring on your hand, staring for a few seconds before you clasp your other hand over it.

“Well keep your wits about you” he says, turning away to serve someone else.

You’re not quite sure how to take what he’s just said on board. So you simply turn to watch the rest of the patrons, enjoying the way they stumble over one another, laughing without a care in the world. The music is absolutely blaring and the man on the drums almost makes the very floors vibrate as he plays, and the man who sings has such a feminine voice it’s beautiful. You smile and clap along to the beat of the music, taking a sip of the ale every now and then.

What a life these people lead.

And it dawns on you why you are here. Because your husband no longer seems interested in you. And the clouds descend on your heart, dulling the shine that came out briefly when you watched these commoners go about their lives.

“Why the sad face, darlin’?”

A man materialises beside you and you jump back at his closeness. He smells of ale, but then again, so does everyone else you supposed. He had a drunken smile and could not have been older than thirty. Trying to not be impolite, you give a wry smile.

“I am fine, sir”

He props his ale on the bar, offering you a large hand, “dance with me?” he slurs.

If it’s possible, you press yourself further against the bar, trying to make it clear with your body language that the answer is no.

“Oh, no thank you”

As men do, drunk or not, he ignores you and pulls you up to your feet by your arm with an unusually firm grip. At first, you think how untoward it is for a man of his station to put his hands so forcibly on you. But you remembered where you were and who these people thought you were and quickly pushed the initial discomfort aside. In an attempt to still be polite, you quietly refuse him,

“I am fine, sir, please” you say, but to your dismay, he carries on and pulls you close to him.

“Don’t be like that, have fun!”

As fun as it was to watch, now you’re just getting annoyed, so you push against his chest, “Get off me” you try and say it forcefully, but it’s quiet.

He starts dancing, pulling your body flush with his. And a flash of red anger envelops you, your hands flat against his chest. But before you can, the door to the alehouse bursts open. Everyone seems to look over in sync, eyes landing on the figure who envelops the doorway with his form. The silhouette is visible even in the low light, how it bounces off his silver hair around his shoulders. And if anyone had any doubt, his eyepatch is firmly in place over his left eye, proving to everyone that it was indeed Aemond Targaryen.

He pokes his cheek with his tongue in annoyance as his eye lands on you. Using the man’s temporary shock at seeing the Prince to your advantage, you push him away, facing your husband face on, your face pink with anger. Ever the silent man, he doesn’t say anything for a moment and secures his gaze on the other man, who seems like he’s about to shit himself.

Aemond takes a few steps before he is standing tall before the man, his own gaze is averted, wide-eyed as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Give me one good reason” Aemond draws his sword, “why I should not cut you down where you stand” he says it lowly and you simply watch, wondering how far he will go to protect his pride. His wife.

“My Prince…I-I” the man starts, shaking where he stands. Briefly you look over to the bartender, who raises his eyebrows at you, as if to say you’re in for it.

“Answer me” Aemond hisses, his good eye trained at him.

“Aemond please..” you reach forward for his arm but he shrugs you off. For a second it squeezes your heart, but you realise that he is so deep in rage, it almost seems like he hasn’t heard you.

“You dare touch my wife in such a way” he says lowly. The man’s eyes widen and his pupils shake, and for a moment he looks back at you.

“Don’t look at her” he warns, gripping the sword tightly, “Look at me”

You look over them both to see the man has a large wet patch in front of his trousers, having soiled himself in fear of his own death. Shaking your head, you try again.

“Aemond” you say louder this time. And it seems to work, you’re on his good side, so all he has to do is turn slightly to meet your gaze. With your hand around his forearm, you shake your head, “Don’t”

The man falls to his knees before the prince, pleading his case, “Thank you, my lady! Please, my Prince, I did not realise!” his words are hurried and slurred. Aemond almost grimaces at the display and ponders the situation for a moment. And you can see the muscle in his jaw twitch, until he hums and turns away. He grips the fabric at your back to force you in front of him, almost tripping you over as he pulls you out of the alehouse.

The walk back to the passageways that connect the rooms of the Red Keep is quiet but quick, but it feels like a lifetime. No sooner has he pushed you through the door that leads to your marital chambers than you are babbling frantically.

“Aemond, I’m sorry, I tried to push him away but-”

“Take off your dress” he says bluntly. And it’s so calm it catches you off guard. His eye is staring blankly at you while he takes off his cloak.

“Aemond, wh-”

“Did you not hear me? Take off your fucking dress” he repeats.

The ice in his words makes your heart stutter a little. You’ve only seen this side of Aemond a handful of times in your short marriage, at least intimately anyway and the tone of his voice and the way he orders you makes a warm sensation settle in your belly, tugging below your belly button. Your limbs begin to tremble, both with anticipation and a little fear, this you cannot lie to yourself about.

You just stand there, shocked at his words and frozen in place when he walks up to you, invading your space with his wide and tall form.

“A-aemond, what-”

His face is stern when he speaks.

“You want to act like a slut, you’ll be treated like a slut”

He turns you around, body flush against your back and all but rips the cloak off your shoulders. There are no pre-emptive kisses, no warm touches of adoration. You just look at him and see pure, unadulterated lust. A desire, not only to take you as he sees fit, but to put you in your place for what you’d done. His words should offend you, but they only serve to increase that need between your thighs, which you push together for some friction.

He moves to the dress, the one he’d ordered for you to remove and rips it down the seam at the back, the threads make a scraping sound as they’re pulled apart roughly. His assault on the fabric continues as he pushes it over your bare hips, your body reacting to the cold air that hits your already wet cunt.

“Pathetic” he spits as he grips your hair, tugging slightly on them at the crown. He pulls you up and you whine out as it hurts at first, but almost instantly contributes to the wetness between your legs, “Does my pathetic little wife want to be punished?” he asks lowly.

For a second, you wonder if it’s a strange question for him to ask, but then you realise he’s giving you an out if you need it. If you feel uncomfortable. And he stands still at your back, waiting for the answer.

Swallowing dryly, you breathe, “Yes…”

You swear you feel him tense up behind him, as if he’s thinking of all the ways he might punish you. And it is here that you’re aware of his length, hot and hard against your soft backside. The anticipation flutters in your stomach.

“Yes what”

Oh Gods, you think. Anxiety wracks your body.

“Yes, my prince”

“Good”

His flaming touch disappears from your bare skin for a moment, moving to the buttons of his tunic, undoing them with alarming calmness.

“Lay on the bed. Don’t make me ask twice”

Not one to poke an already angry dragon, you obey. Sitting in the middle of the bed, with your legs pushed together you look up to watch your husband. His eye never leaves you and it shocks you just how stoic he is right now with the clear bulge underneath his breeches. Most of the time, he would make love to you slowly, lovingly. Only on the off chance would he indulge in primal carnal desires, asking you to call him ‘my prince’ and denying you your peak when he’d deemed you too greedy.

He shrugged his tunic off his shoulders and disposed of his underneath, allowing his pale chest exposure to the slightly cold air of your chambers.

“Spread your legs for me”

You swallow dryly at his instruction, the lack of emotion in them and in his eye sends a bolt of humiliation straight to core, and you feel yourself get shamefully wet, as if you already had not been.

Leaning back on your elbows, taking a few breaths to calm your nerves, your ankles splay out, revealing what lies between those pretty thighs for your husband to shamefully observe. The shameful warmth in your belly makes you want to shut your eyes, to spare yourself the judgement of Aemond’s gaze, but you know just as well he will punish you for that too if you do.

He calmly undoes the laces to his breeches, almost sighing in relief when his cock, hard and desperate for attention, springs free of their confines. He uses his hand to give it one or two pumps, and it prods against his stomach with the force of how hard it is. His eye is focussed entirely on your cunt and cunt alone, standing there. And you feel yourself staring too much as his pretty cock, the tip pink and weeping now that he’s allowed himself to touch it briefly.

“Do you see that?” he asks, “Do you see what you do to me?” he says,

And you hope to all the Gods that it’s rhetorical, because you barely heard what he said, too busy imagining all the ways he would impale you.

Even though he’s naked and clearly desperate for any touch, he stalks over to the bed with shocking control. His hands wrap around your ankles and pull, dragging your legs over the bed and planting them on either side of his thighs. You yelp in surprise at the sudden action and the feeling of your legs touching his bare thighs is enough to send another gush of arousal through you.

You know just as well to be quiet until he speaks directly, and definitely not to touch yourself. That part is reserved for him.

“Remind me of our word, wife” he almost spits that word, as if all he saw before him was a petulant whore.

“Dracarys”

He merely nods, widening his legs so as to widen your own, giving himself a good view of your achingly wet cunt before him. Both of his hands move to grip your thighs, leaving red marks in their wake that now feel like they’re the most dangerous thing about him. He almost kneads the flesh in his calloused palms, watching the way your breath hitches when his fingers graze that delicate space between your legs and hips.

“You vex me to no end” he says and you feel the goosebumps on your arms at the tone of voice.

“I apologise, husband-”

“Oh I will have my apology” he muses, “When I want it”

A shudder envelops your body when his long, slender fingers run up the puffy folds of your cunt, slipping them between the lips there to brush against the wettened pearl hidden beneath. The sheer sound it makes is embarrassing enough, but the way he barely even touches that little bundle of nerves and the reaction you give, is the most embarrassing thing about it all.

Knowing not to touch him, your fists clench the bedsheets at your sides. Aemond chuckles,

“Is this how sensitive my little wife is?” he muses, his fingers collecting the wetness there that was a pure result of his unkind words to you. And when one finger prods at the slick hole of your entrance, you gasp. “Maybe I should punish you more often…if you are as wet as this before I’ve barely even touched you”

Two fingers circle the entrance, the pads of his fingers now entirely slick with your arousal, while his thumb rubs lazy circles at your clit. And you wonder for a moment, how exactly this is punishment. But it’s far too early to be thinking like that.

“I wonder what sounds my pretty little whore can make” he murmurs as he prods two fingers inside you only barely, making your eyes shut tight, but he doesn’t move them further than that.

“Open your eyes”

Pink at the cheeks with sheer humiliation, you do as he says without another word to see his other hand is stroking his cock at a languid pace. You almost whimper, it should be you touching him like that…not himself.

Rewarding you briefly, he tucks two of his fingers as deep as they will go inside your waiting heat, grinning widely at the sound it makes. All breath seems to be stolen from your lungs when his fingers expertly brush against that rough spot within you and it takes all your strength to merely keep your eyes open to look up at him. Gods he looks so happy with himself right now. Knowing all your spots.

But you never thought he’d use that information like this.

It was kind of…thrilling.

The combination of his words, the deep humiliation and his roughened nature, you feel your peak approaching embarrassingly fast. Your breath shudders in your chest and hands fist more of the bedsheets, needing somewhere to place this feeling. And Aemond seems more than willing right now to let you indulge in the euphoric feeling, your climax hurtling towards you at an alarming pace.

As soon as the thought enters your head, his fingers are gone and you jolt with a squeal when he delivers a firm smack straight to your cunt. Without meaning to, you whimper, both at the loss of his thick fingers tucked within you and also at the burning desire for him to do what he’d just done again.

Your brows furrow as you look up at him, his smirk now long gone, replaced with that same flat and stoic expression from earlier

“It wouldn’t be much of a punishment if I let you peak, now would it?”

Oh.

So that was his plan.

A flash of fear runs across your face, but most of it is the frustration of not knowing exactly how he intends to toy with you further.

He raises his fingers to your mouth, prodding at your lips, chuckling darkly at the confused expression you wear on your face, “Go on, clean up the mess you made”

You suck on the two digits he offers you, not only tasting the essence of your own heat, but covering them with your spit, hoping that your effort right now in obeying him will prove beneficial to you later. If he was feeling generous, that is.

In this moment, with that cruel, dark look in his eye, you honestly were not sure.

“Good…” his tone is almost soft here, appreciating the way your tongue glides over his fingers.

For a moment it makes you feel safe.

Aemond pulls his fingers from your mouth, reaching up with his other hand to pull his eyepatch off. You had been married long enough for you to have seen it before, but even now, it still renders you speechless every time you see it. The way it glimmers against the flames of the hearth, sitting comfortably in his empty eye socket. You often thought it beautiful, even before being wed to him.

But now, as he discards it to the floor and looks down at you, it almost takes on a gaze of its own. And it only strengthens that anticipation deep within your gut.

The fingers, now wet with your spit, run over your slick folds again, now sensitive from the denied release.

“So wet still…” he whispers, “...I did not know I had such a needy whore for a wife”

You moan out loud at how mean he’s being right now, coupled with the intense burning touch.

“Aemond…please…” you breathe. You wouldn’t have realised your slip up until he gives another wet smack to your pussy once again. Another jolt of pleasure runs through you, making your thighs tremble with desire and he seems pleased when you make a surprised sound.

He reaches down and runs his thick shaft against your slit, collecting the wetness that has pooled there since his torture on your body. Your chest is wracked with heavy breaths, wishing that he’d just break and fuck you already. But if Aemond was anything, he was patient. He was more than happy to wait if it meant you were a whining, moaning mess beneath him. The fat head of his cock barely sinks beneath your swollen lips, kissing against your clit as he brushes it up which only serves to make your body jolt once again.

“Hm…” goes the deep rumble in his chest, “...I don’t think that’s what I told you to call me…”

“Please…I’m sorry, my prince…” you’re just begging at this point, the previous resolve you did have is now dwindling quickly.

“See? It’s not hard is it?”

He uses his cock to torture your core further, dipping the head of it between your lips to prod against your readied entrance, ready and willing to accept his length. But he pulls it away once again, only to repeat the motions, chuckling at the effect it has on you.

“What do you want, wife?”

Your face is pink and desperate, and you so badly want to tell him to just fuck you senseless right now. Play along, just play along…you think. Surely he can’t hold back forever.

“I want you inside me…” you manage between ragged breaths as he keeps dipping his cock against your hole.

“Beg for it”

You let out a frustrated whine when his thumb simply rests on your clit, not moving an inch.

“Come on, beg for it” he grins widely. He looks so pleased with himself you want to make a comment on it, but your body just wants him so deep inside you you can’t think straight.

“Please…my prince…please fuck me…” you can feel the frustration hot on your cheeks, bubbling up into tears glazing your eyes.

It’s too much. So much so that you think if he doesn’t thrust deep inside and move his thumb against your clit, you might just die.

“Such foul language, princess”

He gives his shaft a few more strokes, letting the bright red tip, aching to be buried inside your wet, waiting cunt, breach your entrance just slightly.

You can feel the relief, it’s so close, all he has to do is push forward…

“Eyes on me now” he instructs lowly.

Your mouth falls open, and a sigh of relief empties your lungs when he slowly sheathes himself within you. He is eerily calm and collected, a stark contrast to how you are holding back at this very moment. The sheer sound of your arousal enveloping him seems to make him smile, until he is fully seated to the hilt, the tip kissing your cervix.

You do as you are told, eyes on him the entire time, eyes glassy in relief at the feeling of just being completely full of him. He’s always been one for seeing his wife is satisfied, and so seeing the look on your face, his eyes glimmer in pride.

To your surprise, he starts a pace, albeit slow, but a pace nonetheless. Only quiet breathy sounds are heard from your mouth, and you think (stupidly) that you are safe. You start to indulge in the feeling of his erection continuously sinking into you, rocking your hips slightly against him to increase the pace somewhat.

And you are embarrassingly close. The ache of the previous denied release never fully went away, and it creeps up from the depths to fizzle at the surface once more, just aching for speed, for roughness, for anything but this torture. You feel every vein, every stroke, every angle of his hips, and it only makes you want more.

And then he stops and jolts you back when he presses his thumb forcefully against your clit, but not enough to truly hurt.

“Say the words” he orders, his tone flat and unforgiving.

Surely the Aemond you know is caring, loving even, is still there…right?

“Say the words, and I might let you peak tonight”

You swallow, stilling your hips as much as it pains you. The force of holding back makes your thighs tremble, evident in the low light of the room.

“…my prince?...”

His large, calloused hand wraps around your neck, shocking you in the most arousing way possible. His cock is inside you to the hilt and this should definitely not be turning you on as much as it is, and yet you feel another gush of your essence coat your thighs, betraying how you really feel. His fingers curl around it so effortlessly, and he only squeezes a little. He is so calculated in his movements, it’s almost frightening.

“Don’t give me ‘my prince’” he mocks, “I want your apology. Now”

Without even thinking, the pain of him not moving and stilling his hips too great, tears prick at your eyes as you babble an apology,

“I am sorry, husband, I truly am! I was foolish to go out on my own. Forgive me”

His fingers curl around your neck just that tiny bit more and he has that wolfish grin on his face once more, clearly enjoying the way he is able to bring you to this pathetic little mess of a wife he must see you as now.

“Yes, it was foolish” he says, so nonchalantly, as if he isn’t fully inside you right at this moment, “I thought my wife was an intelligent woman. And yet here she is mewling and crying with her husband’s cock inside of her, begging to be forgiven”

You swallow around his hand in nervousness, seeing the way his iris is blown so wide with lust he almost does not look human at all. Perhaps they were right. When they say Targaryens are closer to gods than men. Because here, using you for his own cruel means, it is both gorgeous and terrifying, as Gods should be.

Tears prick at your eyes and you worry that if you blink they will fall. All you can focus on is his hand around your neck, every vein in his cock pulsing with desire deep inside you, and your walls squeezing him to try and ease him back into fucking you.

In a quiet breathy voice, you mewl, “husband…please…”

He chuckles when he sees how you are holding your pretty tears back, “Why are you crying, hm? Do I need to punish you again?” he smirks, “I could just stay like this…”

“No, no…please…”

“Then tell me what you want, wife” he sneers,

You finally allow yourself to blink and the tears stream down your cheeks.

“I want you…to fuck me…husband…” you say between breaths.

His tongue pokes at his cheek, as if he’d been waiting all day to hear that.

Aemond pushes your body back further onto the bed, his own knees coming to rest on it, and you whimper, his cock shoved only briefly further into you, kissing your cervix. It provides a little relief.

And your husband smiles widely as he takes your hips in both hands and brings them to rest against his waist. And he’s not moved yet, but purely the change of angle makes the head of his cock kiss against that rough patch within.

Smirking, he starts at a slow pace once more, and you cry at the relief of it. It’s slow, not at all the quick, brutal pace you need, but it’s something.

He all but laughs at your blissed out expression, taking in the glassy, glazed over look in your eyes.

“Who am I to deny my little wife?” he says.

And every nerve is your body is on fire when his thumbs dig into your hips and he finally just fucks you, in the way he knows you always like to be fucked. Your body goes slack as his hips snap against yours and the only sound in the room is the erotic slap of your bodies against each other. Every now and then Aemond curses under his breath at the force of which your walls clamp down on him.

All the teasing he’d done had done little to quell that impending release that you so desperately needed, and you could feel it form painfully in your stomach, wound up so tight and fit to burst.

“Gods…Aemond…” you breathe.

He presses one of his palms on your stomach, to feel the presence of himself there within you. Your body reacts on its own, bucking up into him as it pushes that sweet spot against his cock. He leans over, still keeping up that brutal pace and you can feel his hair against your chest, his breath on your neck.

His teeth graze over the delicate skin where he once has his entire hand choking you, “Fuck…your cunt feels amazing…” he whispers against you, “...I know you are close…”

A whimper teases its way out of your throat. Fuck, he can read your body like a book. Knows it far too well.

Knowing he is right, he presses harder against your stomach, squeezing you around his cock inside you as he pistons mercilessly into your cunt, the lewd sound of your arousal only aiding your peak. And it’s the mere whisper of a touch of his thumb across your throbbing clit that drives you over the edge.

“Fuck…” you breathe as your body grows rigid, hands still fisted hard within the sheets. Your muscles tremble and your cunt clenches around him, to which he lets out an uncharacteristically loud moan straight into your ear.

And you expect him to follow suit, but he simply keeps fucking you through it, intent to prolong this little death.

“Aem..nd…I can’t..” you beg.

Your first orgasm is barely gone before your stomach winds painfully again and he chuckles again, deeply and low against your body. In a rather sweet gesture, he leaves open-mouthed kisses against your neck and jaw, a stark contrast to the sweet torture he is performing against your sex.

“You can…give me another and I will fuck my seed into you…”

Your eyes screw shut. And there’s not enough words to describe the utter destruction your body feels it is going under, and you feel yourself fall apart more and more with each erotic slap of his balls against you.

“I’ve got you princess…that’s it…let go…”

Finally, your hands fly up from the sheets to clamour at his skin, needing to touch him all over. It’s a mess. His mouth fights against yours, biting at your swollen lower lip to draw the faintest bit of blood. All the while his cock is impaling your cunt at breakneck speed, chasing his release while yours just builds and builds…

Your fingers dig into his arms painfully as your second climax rolls over you. It’s loud and immense and you swear for a moment you are lost to the world, the only thing grounding you being the sound of Aemond’s low grunts as he chases his own release.

He gives several rough, deep thrusts, making sure to shove his seed as deep inside you as it will go before he finally stills above you, rested on his forearms either side of your head.

After what feels like a lifetime, feeling his cock continue to twitch within you, you crack open your eyes. You’ll never tire of seeing him like this. Fucked out with his hair damp against his temples, the muscles of his body contracting as he breathes heavily.

Idly, your fingers draw circles on his back. And it’s so soft and gentle that he shudders a little, picking himself up to look down at you. There he is. The husband you know and love.

You brush the back of your fingers against his face, the marred side. And his sapphire eye glints back at you.

“I am sorry, wife” he says suddenly.

Your movements cease, looking at him questioningly. But you do not question it.

“I have neglected you these past weeks” he confesses, as if being able to read you so well, “it has been unconsciously done…but it is no excuse.

I am sorry”

You’re a bit…stunned? If anything.

Aemond had always been proud. Proud of his heritage. Proud of his abilities. His talents.

He had never been one to admit his faults.

So for a moment his words hang in the air, until you find your voice again.

“Aemond…” you say, reaching up to his face. He sighs into your touch, “...I believe we have both been foolish. I am sorry also, for the anxiety I must have caused you”

He shakes his head softly.

“I only wished to get a reaction from you” you say, “But I am truly sorry for worrying you”

He huffs at that, looking down briefly to where you are still joined, “Perhaps you should do that more often” he jokes, and you swat his shoulder playfully.

His kiss is tender and he leans down, “shall we make up for lost time, Princess?” he asks.

You cock your head playfully as his hands glide over your torso to slide over your breast, squeezing gently.

“I’ll have you full of my heirs by daybreak” he growls.

You giggle at that, bringing him in for another kiss, “I look forward to it, my prince”

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astariontopofme · 9 months

Text

𝐀 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐂𝐫𝐲 𝐎𝐧 🤍 (Astarion x F!MC)

Summary: Astarion is on a personal journey of self improvement to support his relationship. A little fluffy / hurt/comfort drabble.

Word Count: 1.8k

—————

By any sense of the word, Astarion was not known to be a nurturing man.

He wasn’t quite as in touch with other people's feelings in the way that Wyll or Halsin could be. If anything, he was rather cold in the sense of comforting another. Comfort was something he was deprived of in his two hundred years as a slave to Cazador, so what he’d never received he felt could not give out.

Which left him in a tricky predicament tonight.

Unlike most nights, she did not wish to indulge him in the details of her brutal adventure as soon as she returned. His strong little love had arrived shivering, distant and doused in dozens of conflicting scents of cold blood. All he could do was gawp at her for a moment, unsure of whether or not he should do something. It wasn’t uncommon for members of their party to return in such a state of gore and emitting a strong stench of death, but to return looking so mentally sore and empty was something he was yet to deal with.

Entirely unsure as to why, he wanted nothing more than to be the comfort she so clearly needed after such a day. He wanted to see her smile, it was the only thing that brightened up his night at camp. Smiling was obviously not in her repertoire of emotions that evening.

As much as he wanted to give in to this new desire to nurture her, he didn’t dare get close until she had washed away the temptation staining her skin. No matter what, he had to resist the urge to aid in the cleaning of such an abundance of thickly spread blood. Visually, she was in a bad way, and he wouldn’t be able to help her while resisting the temptation to help himself to the scarlet feast she was drowning in.

All he could do was sit outside his tent, watching as Halsin helped to wash away the liquid badge of accomplished combat whilst healing her own open wounds. He studied the gentle touch of the well-built Druid, his large and rough hands so carefully patching her up as he tried to coax her out of her hypnotic-like state. Although the kind words from Halsin didn’t seem to be soothing her, Astarion made a note of the words of encouragement and sickly sweet pet names the healer used in an effort to make her feel safe.

Once she was patched up and in a much cleaner set of comfortable clothing, Halsin had offered her a shoulder to lean on and ear to listen to her troubles, but she quietly declined. Before she made her way to the lake, she thanked him for his help as she stood from her makeshift seat, not stopping when he suggested that she return to him if needed.

Astarion suddenly felt uneasy about her leaving such comfort to go and sit alone. Sure, she was his partner, but even he couldn’t deny that Halsin could give her emotional support and likely the warmest hug of her life to at least give her the slightest sense of security.

It often made Astarion wonder what it was she actually saw in him. There was no doubt that the two of them were pretty nifty in battle, and she knew as well as he did that they had each other's backs. They were fearlessly protective of each other, each willing to do anything to shield the other from harm.

But was that all their relationship could be defined as?

He wanted more for her, and admittedly for himself as well, but he was the only thing in the way of their progression. She was ready, willing and able to begin that chapter in their relationship, but he couldn’t let it be one sided. The cuddly and intimate side of things was still a learning curve for him as he progressively taught himself what he was and was not comfortable with and where his boundaries lie. He’d never had the luxury of boundaries before now, so her encouragement of him slowly discovering his own was greatly appreciated.

For that very reason, he had no qualms with her seeking comfort from other members of their party. If anything, it helped him learn the importance of patience and understanding and taught him how to express his own feelings. Although it wasn’t something he had yet expressed to the others, he was grateful for their unconditional support of her where he couldn’t yet give it.

Many nights he sat in his tent, building himself up to take that first step towards being the partner he wanted to be to her, only for his courage to come crumbling down as he thought more and more about whether or not he truly was ready for it. So as he watched her sitting by the lake, her arms wrapped around her own waist and shoulders slightly shaking from her torment, he felt something new.

Almost like a feeling of connection, he was suddenly completely drawn to her. He was standing from his uncomfortable perch on the bumpy terrain below him before he could even process any thought for what he was doing. She needed him, and this was both the first time he had recognised it and the first time he was acting on it. He moved toward her quickly, actually sensing her level of distress before he even knew what was truly eating away at her.

Unlike any other night at camp, he wanted to hear every detail of her troubles; tears and all. He wanted her to confide in him the way he had in her so many times before. He wanted her to lean on him for support because he wanted her to feel better.

Most importantly, he wanted to be her main source of comfort.

So as he approached his sniffling partner and silently sat himself behind her, he felt the first almighty crack in his hefty barrier. Fighting off the sudden quickening of his breath took mere milliseconds, a record by all accounts. That defensive stance of panic that repeatedly presented itself at even the slightest thought of being part of someone else’s emotional support system was overstaying its welcome, and he was ready to rid himself of it.

His hands gently pried her arms away from the tight hold they had on her waist, her grip so strong that it seemed she was trying to hold herself together before she fell apart in front of him. He locked his own arms in their place around her middle, pulling her back into his chest with a reassuring squeeze.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered suddenly, his mouth taking on a mind of its own.

Never before had he said such a sweet sentence with zero malice or ill intent. Every little doubt in his mind slithered away as her tense form shook pathetically in his hold. She was holding something in, a traumatic detail from her adventures that she may not want to relive.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The more he rubbed little circles into her waist with the tips of his fingers, the more she sank deeper into him. Her raised shoulders began to relax as each muscle softened within her, the unsettling tension slowly leaving her. He could feel himself doing something right, something that made him feel worthy of her love and time. Not even sex could make him feel as good as he did in this moment.

Astarion waited patiently for a response as she seemed to be clawing through her thoughts for an answer. His cold lips pressed a gentle kiss into her hair, the faint smell of blood still presenting itself upon her person. The smell did not deter him from his focus on her state as she began to break down into pitiful sobs, each heartbreaking tremor shaking them both as he completely enveloped her into him.

“Shhh,” he whispered softly. “Shh shh shh…it’s okay.”

She shook her head quickly, inhaling a shaken breath in an attempt to calm herself enough to speak. “I-I couldn’t…s-save-”

She needn’t speak any further, unable to anyway as she buried her face in her hands to muffle her sobs. She couldn’t save somebody, something that had been a reoccurring torment for her whenever she faced what she deemed as the highest form of failure. If Astarion was being wholeheartedly honest, he didn’t entirely understand her strong feelings for helpless people that had zero relation to her.

She couldn’t save everyone.

He didn’t want to lose her in her personal mission to be everyone’s saviour, but he tactically held his tongue about his opinions. Conflicting opinions was, as Gale would put it, a normal part of a relationship, but Astarion knew he could be rather cut throat in his approach to such topics. He didn’t want her to think him heartless, because he really was trying to at least see things from her point of view first. And even if he couldn’t see why she was so attached to the helpless and needy, he wanted to convey that in a way that wouldn’t damage their relationship.

He still had a lot to learn, but truth be told, he was rather enjoying this personal journey to becoming his own person. A shocking turn of events to say the least. Something about this particular adventure made him feel like he was doing something right for a change. He was finally finding himself. Not the slave that Cazador created, but a man with his own morals and feelings.

His lips pressed many more little kisses wherever he could plant them, shushing her softly to alleviate the harsh sobs wracking her body. The back of her head eventually found its way into the crook of his neck, her soft hairs tickling at his puncture scars. He swayed them both slowly, resting his cheek upon her head to embrace her as much as he could.

She wasn’t in the right mind to tell him the story of her tragic day, so as much as he currently didn’t want to blindly promise her that she’d be presented with this side of him tomorrow, he wanted her to know that she no longer needed to seek out comfort from anyone but him. He wanted to hear about her upset, whether that was tomorrow or a week from now. All he knew was that tonight was not the night.

Tonight, she just needed a shoulder to cry on.

_____

A/N: Hope you enjoyed my first little fic/drabble for BG3! FYI, I do accept requests! If you haven’t followed me from my HL blog, then please know that although I’m fully confident in my English, it is not my first language 🤍

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