#the rose fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

illyrianbitch · 3 months

Text

And I'm Thinking About Your Lips

Pairing: Reader x Cassian

Summary: You and Cassian have been best friends since you were teenagers-- just friends. But one night at Rita's changes everything and now you cant breathe when you're around him and he can't stop imagining how you'd taste.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT! like porn with plot aka: best friends to lovers, sexual tension, alcohol use, drunken handsy moments, two dummies in love, male masturbation, unprotected PIV, fingering (f receiving), oral (f & m receiving), dirty talk, sex sex sex! we love sex!!

Word Count: 19k (a biggie!)

a/n: heavily inspired by my fav song mistakes like this by prelow. give it a listen for the vibes ;) I was going to make this multiple parts but decided against it. lets imagine Rita's like a lil more modern club okay mwuah enjoy.

Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Rita's was loud.

On busy nights like these, the place was a complete sensory overload– live music with thumping bass and swirling laughter. The air was thick with the mingling scents of sweat, perfume, and the occasional waft of arousal, a delicious smell that often lingered in Rita’s. You loved nights like these, loved the energy that came with finally being able to let go. You let out a content sigh as you watched people dance across the dimly lit club, enjoying the music that vibrated through their bones.

You stood next to Cassian at the bar, leaning against the smooth surface as you awaited the drinks you had ordered. He was in the middle of telling you a story-- or at least you think it was a story. You couldn't tell.

"What?" you exclaimed loudly, leaning forward in a futile attempt to decipher his response. Frustration etched across your face, you took a step back, gazing up at Cassian. Your eyebrows furrowed, and you shook your head while gesturing emphatically to your ears. "I can't hear," you mouthed, hoping he'd understand.

Cassian's initial confusion gave way to realization, his mouth forming a distinct "Ooooh." Leaning down, he bridged the distance between you, his lips hovering above your ear to deliver his words in a loud whisper.

And then it happened—a giggling drunk couple bumped into Cassian, disrupting his balance. His lips, which had initially hovered near your ears, now made a brief but intimate contact, running along the shell of your ear.

Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your veins, the warmth permeating your entire body. Or perhaps it was the pulsating energy of the crowded dancefloor. Whatever it was, you felt it—a shiver tracing a path down your neck, following the curve of your spine. Awareness dawned on you—his proximity, his breath on your ears, the almost electric closeness of your cheeks, the way his disheveled hair framed his face.

He pulled away, a smile playing on his lips. He mouthed something, but you were lost in a daze, barely registering that those plump, red lips were actually forming words.

"Y/n?" he called out, raising his voice to be heard over the music. "You got that?"

Blinking, you shook your head, dispelling the lingering traces of your thoughts. A smile curved on your lips as you replied, "Yup."

You had no idea what he said, hadn't caught a word of what he was whispering in your ear. But at that moment, it didn't seem to matter. Internally, you chastised yourself— it's just the alcohol, that's all it is. After all, Cassian had always been attractive. You just happened to be drunk and noticed it a little bit more. Appreciating the beauty of your best friend, completely platonically.

The bartender returned with your ordered drinks, placing them on the bar with a lingering gaze that hinted at an appreciation for more than just the cocktail he had crafted—one directed entirely at you. Your attention, however, was occupied by the lively atmosphere around you as you spared the bartender a quick glance, grabbing your drink. Cass, on the other hand, picked up on the admiration, staring at the bartender and tucking away the information in the back of his mind.

As you both turned to leave, Cassian's movements synchronized with yours and his arm rubbed against your own, sending a subtle brush of warmth through you. You paused for a beat. The warmth was still there. You hated it. A realization dawned – you needed more alcohol.

With a silent determination, you gave Cassian a "one moment" gesture, holding up a finger. Cass watched as you turned back toward the bar, leaning forward to catch the bartender's attention. When he turned to face you, you placed your hand lightly over his.

"Actually," you said with a smile, “Can we get two extra shots? Of your strongest."

The bartender gave you a smile back and nodded in acknowledgment. In no time, two additional shots, robust and potent, joined the lineup, arranged neatly on the polished surface. Cassian frowned, flickering his gaze between you and the shots. You felt his presence as he leaned in and instinctively took a step back, not turning to look him in the eyes.

“We’re taking another round?”

“Nope.” You said, popping the p. Without hesitation, you downed them both with a practiced ease. Finally, you looked up at him, making a face as the liquor made its way down your throat. “Those were for me.” Your voice came out in a croak.

Cassian raised an eyebrow in surprise, a playful smirk playing on his lips.

“Someone is getting hammered tonight."

You simply nodded, a nonchalant "mhmm" escaping your lips. The alcohol ignited a warmth that spread through your veins, momentarily overshadowing any reservations. With the edge taken off, you were ready to rejoin your friends– with the exception of Amren, who was “too busy” to join tonight.

Cassian led the way back to the booth, his hand finding its familiar place at the small of your back. Cass always did this when at Ritas, a gesture to ensure that you weren’t swept away by the sea of people. Yet, this time, it felt different. As he guided you through the lively crowd, you couldn't ignore the heat that radiated from his touch. Your heart quickened its pace. Its the alcohol-induced haze, you told yourself. Thats all.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Two hours later, Rita’s was still pulsating with energy and you were absolutely wasted. The vibrant atmosphere seemed to blend seamlessly with the warmth of your intoxication and everything around you seemed to echo with life.

You, Mor, and Feyre slowly returned to the booth for a much-needed break, hands interlaced with one another and glasses still full, waiting to be enjoyed. In your inebriated state, you teetered back and forth as you made your way to the booth, plopping down next to your best friend.

At your arrival, Cassian sat up right, waiting for you to do what you always did—lay your head on his shoulder. And, like clockwork, you fell into place, your head finding its familiar spot on Cassian's shoulder.

"Look who decided to join the land of the living," Cassian teased as he nudged you gently. You felt him adjust his seating, his wings moving to accommodate your presence. The booths at Rita’s were large, the seats extra wide and spacious— for many reasons. You didn’t think too long about the ways people used the extra space.

Instead, you chuckled at Cassian’s comment, the alcohol-infused haze making everything seem delightfully amusing. "Jus' exploring alternate universes on the danceflooooooor."

The sound of your voice and the way you dragged out your words set Cassian into a small fit of laughter, a rich melody that blended with the music. The sound vibrated through his body and you felt his chest and his shoulders rise with it. The laughter resonated in your own as a result.

"Alternate universes, huh?” He asked, “That why you were grinding on Mor like a horned-up teenager?"

Craning your head slightly to look up at him, you gasped dramatically, feigning offense. He was already looking at you, his face tilted to the side to meet your eyes. There was a clear sense of amusement written into his face, the corners of his mouth turned up, a certain glow in his eyes.

"I was not! How dare you judge me?" With a determined glint in your, now narrowed, eyes you added, "I never judge how you practically dry hump every woman you dance with."

Your best friend's lips curled into a grin, and his eyebrows lifted for a moment. There was a playful roll of his lips before he nodded, slightly chuckling. You got him there.

"Okay, whatever."

You watched as he took a sip of his drink with his other hand, then lowered it to rest the glass on his knee. Leaning back a bit, a small giggle escaped your lips at nothing in particular. Then, you let out a laugh.

"You're wasted." Cassian stated matter of factly, turning his head to look at where yours lay on his shoulder. Your laughter continued for a moment, ending with a sound of content.

"Maybe." You replied as you leaned back a little, your head lolling backwards. Your eyes, framed by thick lashes, found Cassian's. You looked at him for a moment, taking in his face, his intense gaze focused on you.

"You're real attractive, Cass," you murmured, the words carrying a sincerity that caught him off guard.

Cassian didn't know why his heart leaped at your words. This wasn't something new. You had complimented him multiple times before. He knew he was attractive-- he knew you knew he was attractive. But there was something different this time, something in the way you bit your lip, gnawing at it with your teeth, the genuine look in your eyes.

"You think so?" he said. You wondered how his voice could be so soft, yet so husky. How was that possible?

You nodded lazily, not breaking the intense eye contact. "Mhm," you affirmed.

Cassian's gaze shifted, and suddenly he found himself studying your face. Your head tilted back, he took in the sight of your lips, the stunning makeup enhancing your features. You were gorgeous, he’d always known this-- everyone who saw you thought the same. But you were best friends, and the strength of your bond lessened the urge to explore thoughts of you that went farther than simple observation.

"You're not too bad yourself."

You perked up a bit.

"Yeah?" you asked eagerly.

Cassian gave a chuckle at your enthusiastic reply, noticing the way your eyes lit up behind their drunken haze. But before he could say anything more, Mor appeared, her hands outstretched, ready to pull you back onto the dancefloor.

"Y/n," She said, "Come danceeeee."

You looked up at her, your body slowly moving up right.

"But Cass and I-"

Mor whined.

"Feyre abandoned me for Rhys and Azriel is too busy being a gargoyle."

You snickered at her words, your gaze drifting over to where the Shadowsinger sat across the booth, a small grin on his mouth as he brought his cup to his lips. Then, you looked towards the dance floor, a sea of moving bodies with each person lost in the rhythm of the music. Sure enough, your gaze settled on Feyre and Rhysand, deeply entwined as they danced against one another, their bodies swaying together.

You returned your gaze to Mor, with her outstretched hands and a pouty face. You grinned, and she let out a small shriek of excitement at your wordless answer.

You placed a hand on Cassian's thigh, giving a small pat as you forced yourself up, the other hand in Mor's grasp. Cass held his hands up to stabilize you.

You turned to face him, your body slightly swaying.

"See ya later, Commander."

You gave him a drunken salute, the gesture slow and sloppy, before Mor whisked you away to the dance floor.

Cassian watched your figure as you retreated to the dance floor, unable to look away. He could still feel the lingering warmth on his thigh from where your hand had rested, as if an imprint of your touch had been left behind– he half-expected to undo his pants and find a charred handprint, a mirror image of yours. Your delicate hands, your soft skin, your slender fingers..... the thought sent a jolt of desire through him.

Stop it. Cassian's brain scolded him.

But still, his gaze drifted to where you were lost in the lively throng of bodies. The live music pulsed around you, guiding your movements as you moved with your usual demeanor of grace. The way you swayed to the rhythm, the fluidity of your gestures, it was mesmerizing. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to dance with you the way you were on Mor, without the barriers of friendship. To feel your body pressed against his, to lose himself in the rhythm and the heat that seemed to radiate from both of you.

His eyes trailed your body, taking in every curve and movement, and suddenly, he began to notice the way other males and females were doing the same.

He felt a growing anger stir within him, an emotion he had never felt before, not when it came to you. It was a possessive rage, a primal instinct that told him he needed to protect you from these observers. The bodies around you, their gazes lingering on your body, only fueled the fire within him. They shouldn't be looking at you like that. They weren't worth your time--- weren't worthy of being able to admire you the way they were. He should do some-

His musings were abruptly interrupted by a chuckle from Azriel.

The sound jolted Cassian back to the present, and he turned to find his brother looking at him with an amused expression. Annoyance crept into Cassian's features as he asked,

"What?"

Az's amusement deepened, and he replied nonchalantly, "Nothing."

Although Azriel's response seemed innocent, there was a knowing glint in his eyes, a small smirk that he covered by bringing his cup to his lips. Cass was well aware that Az was hinting at something, but he was too lost in his own thoughts to care. All he could focus on was the uncomfortable heat in his stomach, feeling as if he was suffering from intense heartburn. But funnily enough, the feeling only grew heavier when he looked at you.

Azriel down his drink before grabbing Cassian’s attention.

"Let's get you another drink."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The night had surrendered to the early hours of the morning, casting a dreamlike glow over the city as you and your friends stumbled out of the vibrant chaos that was Rita's. The streets, now filled with the remnants of the night's revelry, echoed with the laughter and inebriated chatter of others who were also bidding farewell to a night spent well.

You walked alongside Cas and Mor, Feyre and Rhysand a few steps ahead. Azriel had left an hour prior; a smug expression adorned his face as he escorted a striking male with brown hair and green eyes-- the very one who had generously bought him drinks throughout the night.

You looked at the mated pair ahead of you, Rhysand's arm draped casually around Feyre’s shoulder. You watched as he leaned in, whispering something in her ear. Feyre suddenly stilled and turned around, an evident blush lingering on her cheeks. Rhysand looked at her with an amused twinkle in his eyes, then he turned his gaze toward your group, mirthful mischief etched across his face.

"We're not feeling that well, so we're going to go sleep." Rhysand declared, his words dripping with a level of unseriousness that made you want to laugh. But, not even Rhys could take himself seriously, the corners of his mouth soon turning up to form a pearly-white grin.

Feyre playfully slapped his chest, but the grin on Rhysand’s face grew even wider, brightened by a child-like glee. With a final shared glance, the mated pair left. You smiled to yourself, thinking about how evident the couple’s love was and how much it made you want something similar.

Before you knew it, only you and Cassian were left. Mor, who had been walking side by side with you both, had halted abruptly. A smile played on her lips. "I've got somewhere I want to go," she announced cryptically, winking before disappearing.

The intoxication in your veins rendered winnowing out of the question – too drunk to focus, and Cassian couldn't fly without risking an aerial mishap that involved either vomit or an unexpected plummet. Both options were less than ideal, so you both continued walking, the cool night air beginning to clear the remnants of your alcohol-induced hazes.

Cassian watched as you moved with a certain lightness, the effects of the drinks still lingering in your movements. Suddenly, you spun around, catching him off guard. His hands flew out instinctively, prepared to catch you if you lost your balance, but you paid no attention to the movement. Instead, you looked up at him with a small frown.

"Hey," you began, your words still slightly slurred. "How come everyone's getting some tonight, and here we are, feeling left out?"

He watched you for a moment, your stature, your slow blinks, how intensely you were staring at him. Cassian grinned. His eyes, veiled by a layer of playful charm, fixated on yours.

"Well, I'm right here,” He declared, “Say the word, and I'm all yours, allll night long.”

Cassain ensured that his words were delivered with a teasing tone, a tone he prayed masked the underlying desire he felt. You didn’t notice. All you could focus on was the burning in your chest, the way your heart tugged at his response. This was nothing out of the usual, Cassian flirted with you all the time. Cassian flirted with everyone.

So you let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the quiet night.

"Oh, please. You're such a pig," you retorted playfully, adding a mockingly dramatic eye roll. Then you swallowed, forcing your next words out. "Never. Could you imagine?”

You didn’t want to see his face as he answered the question, too worried that it would hurt you in some way if he reacted appalled and disgusted. So, you turned yourself around and began walking again, focusing on the cobblestone road underneath your feet, at the cold air starting to bite at you.

There was a quiet pause, and then you heard the small laughter of your best friend. He wouldn’t tell you where his mind wandered, now, when he thought of you, wouldn’t acknowledge the hurt that nestled itself quietly in the recesses of his thoughts.

“No. I couldn’t.”

Another pause. Despite being out in the open, breathing in the fresh night air, you began to feel stuffy. A sense of discomfort wrapped itself around you.

"How come you didn't go home with anyone?" You asked. You gnawed at your lip, waiting for his response, observing his reaction from the corner of your eye.

Cassian raised an eyebrow. He stopped to look at you, and you stilled, turning slightly to face him. When he gave you no response, you let out a small sigh.

"Y’know, like that one redhead giving you eyes back at the bar."

You did your best to disguise the subtle irritation lingered in your tone, but beneath it, you felt a sense of bubbling jealousy. How was Cass so unaware? How come you were so aware?

Cassian's eyes widened slightly as he scrambled to recall the moment. Panic briefly flickered in his eyes as he realized he hadn't even noticed anyone else, his attention consumed by you. “Ohhh, her?” He finally responded, “Nah, tonight was just about hanging out with all of you. Y’know, family time.”

You felt a smile tugging at your cheeks. Family time didn’t stop Azriel, or Feyre and Rhysand. In your gut, you knew that it hadn’t stopped Mor either, the look on her face as she left screamed of a sudden lustful advance. Cassian’s answer deeply satisfied a part of you, for reasons you couldn't decipher at the moment. Your smile widened when he gave you a fond smile of his own.

“Big ole’ sap.” You teased, affectionately nudging him with your shoulder.

You fell into another comfortable rhythm, walking alongside each other in silence as the echoes of night behind you slowly faded. Cassian could hear you humming faintly to yourself and a warmth filled his chest. You often hummed when you walked. When you were drunk, it was always a guarantee. Cass used to use it as a meter for your sobriety, detecting how drunk you were based on how horrible your humming was. Currently, it sounded angelic. But he wasn’t sure if he could trust his own judgment, not now, not when it came to you. Even as you walked side-by-side, he felt the urge to get you closer, made the effort to ensure your hands swung next to one another— that you bumped into his bicep every now and then as you walked. What was wrong with him? And why did you smell so good?

Cass cleared his throat, tilting his head down slightly to look at you.

“So, uh, speaking of people, why didn’t you go home with the bartender?”

You stopped abruptly, caught off guard by question. Cassian, too, halted in his tracks, a subtle maneuver to avoid colliding with your shoulder. Turning to face him, your eyes sought his in the dim light. "The bartender?" Confusion furrowed your brow.

His gaze, laden with an unspoken curiosity, met yours. He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

You paused, your thoughts weaving through the blurred memories of the night. Every image was muddled in your mind, a fusion of moving bodies and your hands picking up new drinks. God, how many did you take? You couldn’t remember. Your memory was hazy, unfocussed. There was only one thing in your mind that shone in perfect clarity– only one person. And it wasn’t the bartender.

“Guess I didn’t.” You shrugged.

Cassian thought back to the bartender, a handsome male with short brown hair and blue eyes. The way he had stared at you, the way he had smiled. Cass’s mind found the memory of you reaching over the bar, your hand over the bartender’s, leaning in to request another drink. A flash of your smile. He fought the urge to make a face.

"Yup,” He said, “Gave you eyes the entire night. Half surprised they didn't fall out and follow you home."

He didn’t intend to sound bitter, didn’t mean for it to drip from the words he spoke. He couldn’t help it. But, by the look on your face, you hadn’t noticed. Yet again. Cassian let out a breath. It took a moment for his words to settle into your mind, and then you let out a snicker at the image painted by them. He grinned at the sound.

"Well then, I'm really surprised I didn't notice."

And you were. You were usually good at these things, at recognizing advances. You picked up on lingering gazes and touches that were one second too long. If Cassian was referring to the bartender you were thinking of, then he had been very attractive. On another night, you would have definitely noticed— and definitely taken the opportunity. But not tonight. Tonight was different, felt different.

"Can't blame him," Cassian remarked, a touch of sincerity in his voice. "You are beautiful."

You blinked, your mouth parting slightly in shock. The words sent a flutter to your chest, and you could feel heat on your cheeks. You shook it off, letting out a sound of amusement and disbelief. It came out as a quiet snort. "Shut up."

"Not even mentioning all the males and females that were ogling you while you danced with Mor."

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. You were sure that the blush on your cheeks was on full display and only hoped that Cassian would assume it was caused by the chilly night air. You couldn't look at him. Instead, you shook your head, your eyes looking into the distance. Then, you rolled them and scoffed. "Oh, please. Now you’re just lying.”

You felt his eyes on you, still. You slowly moved your head to look at him once more, watching as his expression subtly shifted.

"No, seriously. It's like some couldn't keep their eyes off you."

Cassian's gaze still lingered on you, unexpectedly soft and genuine. His features bathed in a tender glow, a small smile on his lips. His disheveled hair, tousled by the night's breeze, framed his face in a way that made you itch to rake your fingers through. For a moment, time seemed to pause as you stared at your best friend, your eyes tracing the contours of his shoulders and the majestic wings that adorned his back.

You found yourself taking him in for a minute too long, staring like he wasn’t right in front of you. The realization creeped up on you and you quickly looked away, finding somewhere, anywhere other than his gaze, to focus on.

"Well, whatever," You muttered, turning yourself around to continue walking forward. You heard Cassian’s steps pick up behind you. “I’m over being casual. I’m tired of being with lame males who never make me finish, males who are so boring and entitled, males that are so stupid I begin to question my life decisions. All of it.”

Cassian's eyes widened in surprise, his mind racing as he tried to process what you had offhandedly mentioned. "Wait, what?" he said, his voice filled with confusion. "No one has ever made you finish?"

You weren’t paying full attention to what Cassian was saying, too caught up in your own thoughts and monologue about your new aversion to casual hookups. You waved him off, continuing to walk forward.

Cassian's mind raced with thoughts of you and the males you had been with. He pictured you together, each of them trying their best to please you, their faces contorted with effort, their bodies moving in a frenzy. He pictured some outright ignoring your experience, jackknifing again and again, rutting into you like wild animals. But in his mind's eye, you remained distant, your face bored and vacant, making noises for show.

He wanted to growl. He could do better, could give you the pleasure and satisfaction that those males had failed to provide. The thought was intoxicating, and he couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to be with you, to make you feel the way you deserved. Had they truly not taken the time to worship you? To explore your body, pray to it like it was sacred?

His mind painted a picture of you together, your bodies entwined, a room filled with the smell of sex. He saw himself looking into your eyes, his focus on your pleasure. You moaning underneath him, wrapping your arms around his neck and whispering his name. Cassian. Cassian. The image was intoxicating— he felt a stirring in his cock, a longing that settled heavy in his stomach.

But it was short lived. Quickly, a sense of guilt washed through him, flooding through his veins. Here you were, talking about your life and feelings, and he was imagining you naked, underneath him, your face contorted in pleasure. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be thinking of this. He should be listening to you, his best friend, and giving you advice. He aggressively shoved his thoughts away, putting a lock on the visions of you that were manifesting in his mind. With a deep breath, he told his deteriorating self-discipline that he could think of those beautiful images later, when it was just him and his hand in the solace of his room.

He found himself grateful that you were walking ahead of him, that the night air provided a distraction, a physical discomfort that could dampen his desires. It was cold out now, the breeze seemingly more nippy. It sobered him up, ridding the effects of the alcohol in his veins and his drunken feelings of lust.

It was cold out. His eyes snapped up to you walking ahead of him, rubbing your arms absentmindedly. You were cold. How had he not realized?

Because you’re a horny prick who can’t seem to remember your place in her life. His mind screamed at him. He knew it was right.

"I just want to find someone who can connect with me on a deeper level. Someone who sees me.” You said with a defeated sigh. You stopped for a minute, looking back as Cassian caught up to you, the war general having fallen behind, distracted by his own thoughts.

Finally reaching you, he gave you a look that you’d never seen before, and you slightly frowned from being unable to read him. But soon, his face softened, and he put his hand on your arm. The touch was tender, despite his large, rough hands, and it sent a warmth throughout your body that combated the cool air.

"Y'know, you could get anyone you wanted."

His voice, sincere and quiet, took the breath out of your lungs.

Well, not anyone. The thought flitted through your mind. You ignored it.

He smiled at you, a warmth in his gaze that set your heart on fire. “Lets get you home.”

Cassian draped his arm around you, his hand rubbing your biceps as you instinctively leaned into the comforting gesture. When his wings flared out and curled around you both, you felt the flutter in your chest again, a faint warm glow. This time, you let it sit.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Cassian's ability to fly gradually returned with the waning effects of the alcohol, and the rest of the way home had been filled with comfortable silence. You felt the familiar comfort of home envelop you the minute you stepped foot inside, and your room called to you, to your aching body and pounding headache.

As soon as you entered, you didn't waste a moment – walking straight to your bed and simply falling face flat, a groan escaping from your lips. You could feel the throbbing in your head, every movement causing a reaction in both your scalp and deep in your stomach, where a growing sense of nausea was brewing.

"You're gonna be in pain in the morning." Cassian remarked with a chuckle, watching your less-than-graceful landing.

You groaned again, the sound muffled by your sheets. A moment passed, and you heard the sound of Cassian removing his shoes, soon followed by a dip in the bed as he settled in and made himself comfortable. He sighed.

"Gods. Your bed is so damn comfortable."

You lifted your head to look at him, his head leaning on your headboard as he breathed softly. He looked so peaceful, no tension in his face or his body, his eyes closed with the ghost of a content smile on his lips.

“You can sleep here tonight,” You said, “If you’d like.”

The offer felt charged with something you couldn’t quite name, and you felt vulnerable for proposing the idea. Sure, you and Cassian had slept in the same bed together before, but never when you were attracted to him, turned on by his lips touching your ear. Maybe it was a bad idea. You should send him on his way before he gets too comfortable... right?

Cassian's eyes opened, finding your own. "Really?"

Good ideas be damned.

You nodded. "Just don't hog the bed."

You watched as he smiled and settled himself in further, still clad in his button up and trousers. The pounding in your head had slowly calmed to a dull ache, a momentary relief that you knew was bound to end soon. Taking advantage of it, you made a move to push yourself up and get ready for bed, bracing yourself on your forearms. A wave of nausea ran through you again, and your mind began to conjure up images of every drink you had tonight. You groaned.

“Y/n?”

You let out a deep breath. “Yes?”

Cassian could hear the discomfort in your voice, and he sat up straighter, looking at where you lay at the edge of your bed, your head hanging, slightly tilted downwards towards your bed as your forehead resting on your hands.

“Whats going on?” He said, moving closer to you on the bed. You could feel his body next to your head, his thighs rubbing against your forearms.

“Lots of drinks.” You responded, squeezing your eyes shut. “Too many.”

Cass gave a small chuckle, his hand moving to rest on your head. You felt him run his hand through your hair, felt it settle near your neck, right by your shoulders. He moved it in circular motions.

“Let me help you.” His voice was calm and gentle. For a second, you wondered how he was perfectly fine, but then you remembered how well he could hold his alcohol and how quickly he could sober up, if needed. You felt grateful for the latter as you nodded against your hands.

Cassian stood up and slowly wrapped his arm around your back, settling his hand on your shoulder. Then, with the other, he gently took a hold of your forearm, guiding you up from your hunched position.

You didn’t think much as you let Cass guide you, you could feel him next to you, his arms stabilizing you as he helped you maneuver over to the other side of your bed. The whole world felt like it was moving too fast, as if you were the only thing in slow motion. You simultaneously cursed yourself for tonight while wishing you could teleport to four hours ago when you were wasted and the world was perfect.

“You think you can get out of your dress?” He asked you, as he helped you sit down on your bed.

You nodded, looking up at him with a faint smile. “Yeah. Can you…”

Cassian turned to the armoire your outstretched finger pointed to. He nodded. You closed your eyes for a minute, taking another deep breath as you heard him open a drawer and then close it.

“Here.” His voice was still as smooth as before, calm and gentle. It sent a shiver through your body, and you found your heartbeat quickening. Not now, you scolded yourself, you’re on the verge of vomiting. You needed to get a grip. You grabbed the soft nightgown from his hand and Cassian quickly turned around, giving you some privacy.

Your dress was easy to peel off, the small straps sliding off your shoulders with no resistance. You felt the cool air bite at your exposed chest, and quickly pulled the night stress over your head. Then, you carefully stood up, allowing your dress to slide down your legs, and your nightgown to fall properly on your body.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you looked at Cassian, his back facing to you, his beautiful wings flared out comfortably. A part of you felt so vulnerable with him now, with the way he was touching you, how you had looked at him tonight. Cassian always helped you when you were drunk, it was nothing new, but the feeling lingered nonetheless. You cleared your throat.

“Thank you,” You said, looking at Cass as he turned back around. He couldn’t help as his eyes surveyed your body, and he gave you a small grin.

“Oh, how cute.”

You gave him a small glare, smacking his chest with your hand. And then you slowly crawled into your bed, taking note of how Cassian’s hand hovered over your back until you were settled. He grabbed your covers for you, placing them on you.

“I feel like I’m taking care of a child.” He joked, and you let out a little scoff. He only laughed at your response.

“Just take off your clothes and come sleep before I kick you out.”

You could see the restraint in his face as he stifled his laughter. You could already hear it, a joke about you wanting him naked, a tease about taking him to dinner first. But, instead, Cassian let out a quiet laugh. “Okay.”

You burrowed yourself into your bed, closing your eyes and embracing the warmth of the covers, how nice the soft mattress felt on your aching body. Behind you, you heard the sound of pants and a belt falling to the ground, and within seconds, there was a dip in the bed. Cassian’s smell filled your nose and you welcomed it in, a scent that reminded you of peaceful nights and crackling fires.

“Cass?” You said, slowly turning yourself over to face him. You felt him shift, getting comfortable into the bed, and then he was turning to face you as well.

“Yeah?” He whispered, his voice low.

“Thank you.”

You closed your eyes, your nose still filled with the smell of your best friend, his heat radiating onto your skin. You were out within seconds.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The air was charged with the metallic tang of sweat and the rhythmic sounds of swords clashing. It was a sight to behold, truly. Azriel and Cassian were both incredibly skilled in combat and their sparring matches were always your favorite to watch. Not only was it beautiful to see, with their fluid motions and strong forms, but it helped you pick up on things you wanted to practice yourself— and any weaknesses you could exploit when you practiced with them. Today, you observed Cassian with a focused intensity as he moved gracefully through his training routine, each motion deliberate and powerful. You found yourself unable to look away, suddenly feeling drymouthed and distracted, swallowing hard. You brought your hand to your mouth, your thumb wiping at your lip as you watched.

Were you attracted to Cassian?

No. The sudden heat you were feeling was due to the heavy sun above you, the strong rays hitting you and your slight dehydration. It had nothing to do with the sweaty, built, and beautiful body of your best friend. It definitely wasn’t the way his muscles rippled as he moved, or the way his sweat lined his abs…

"Enjoying the show, babe?"

You let out a small gasp in surprise, turning your head to the side as Mor approached you, a grin on her red-painted lips.

“You scared the fuck out of me.” You said, bringing your hand to your chest in an attempt to calm the quickened beating of your heart.

“I’ve never been able to catch you so off guard,” She mused. “Guess they’re real entertaining today, huh?”

You pursed your lips and looked back over to the two males sparring. They took a step back from one another, taking a momentary break to catch their breaths. Cassian looked over at you, his half-bun had unraveled during the intense training session, with strands of his tousled hair clinging to his forehead, glistening with sweat.

As he caught your gaze, Cassian grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. With a wave of his hand, he gestured toward Azriel, attempting to convey his strategy for the upcoming sparring match. You felt a smile pull at your cheeks as Cassian switched between hovering his hands around his neck to mimic an action of strangulation, and gesturing towards Azriel. Az stood unamused, wiping his forehead with his wrist before taking a large sip of water.

Beside you, Mor observed the scene with a raised eyebrow, a hint of suspicion crossing her features. Her gaze flickered between you and Cassian, and a look of realization slowly went through her face. She turned towards you with a slight gasp, smacking your bicep playfully.

"Y/n! Did you two…?"

You turned your head fast to look at her at a speed so fast that you swore you gave yourself whiplash. You looked at her with narrow eyes. “Did we what?”

Mor's grin widened as she leaned in conspiratorially. "Did you and Cassian have a little training of your own, off the sparring mat?" She teased with a wink.

You scoffed, waving her off with a gesture of your hand. You could feel a blush on your cheeks and you prayed that Mor didn’t notice— or if she did, that she attributed it to the sweltering heat.

"No, Mor! We didn't.” You responded, then you made a face of disgust. “We’re talking about Cassian. I could never.”

Mor raised an eyebrow playfully. "Are you sure about that? Because, darling, you've been staring at him like he's a piece of prime meat, and you're a starved vegetarian about to crumble."

Your cheeks burned brighter.

“Such a beautiful image, Mor, thank you for that,” You murmured, rolling your eyes before looking at her. “But that is not what I was doing. I was just… watching his technique. That's all."

Mor's laughter rang through the air as she nudged you. "Sureeee. Whatever you say. But you might want to consider admitting it to yourself before the starved vegetarian inside you takes over completely."

Flustered and unsure of how to respond, you excused yourself with a mumbled, "I don't know what you're talking about," before hastily leaving the training arena, leaving Mor's laughter echoing behind you as she followed.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You and Cass hadn’t had time together within the past week and a half. You were busy running off with Mor and Feyre, and when you weren’t with them, Amren took your attention. Cassian himself had been busy, too, but he couldn’t focus recently, not as well as usual. The last time he’d been able to properly see you, as you observed him and Azriel training, you left before he had a chance to talk to you. You hadn’t felt Cassian's eyes follow you as you left, didn’t notice the way he traced your figure. His gaze had stayed trained on you until you were out of his line of sight, and only then had he felt the presence of Az behind him. But he was too slow, and the Shadowsinger quickly disarmed him, flipping him onto his back with a loud thud.

Cassian had let out a groan followed by a string of obscenities aimed at his brother, who quickly made a comment about him being too distracted. Azriel was right. He was too distracted. His mind was completely and utterly obsessed with you.

In fact, Cassian felt like a mad man. There was a deep ache that had settled in his chest, one that weaved itself through his ribs. He’d never felt so starved, so hungry. But his delusions, the dreams he’d been having, the fantasies that manifested in his brain, they weren’t sweet enough to satiate his hunger anymore. What he wanted was you. And he couldn’t stop picturing it, couldn't stop indulging in his thoughts. Not since that night at Rita’s.

He’d fallen asleep with you after he’d helped you get into bed, closed his eyes after you thanked him. It was the best sleep he’d gotten in months, made even better when he woke up perfectly rested, rolling over in your comfortable bed to see you. He won’t admit how long he was staring at you, at your sleeping form, your hair fanned out across your pillow. Even with your makeup slightly smeared– a fact that made him feel guilty that he had forgotten to help you wash it off– you were breathtaking. He wondered why he never really noticed it this much before.

Cassian tried his best tonight, laying in his bed after the long day. Restless, he tossed and turned. At one point he considered getting ready and flying somewhere, going to train and practice, or finding some beautiful female to replace the thoughts he had of you. Both options sounded nauseating. So, instead, he pulled himself out of bed and slowly walked around, letting out a yawn and rubbing at his eyes. The hallways were quiet, illuminated by the moon in the night sky.

When he rounded the corner to the kitchen, he stopped in his tracks, his heart quickly jumping. He blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the low lighting, and then readily took in the sight in front of him.

There you were, a vision of beauty, leaning gracefully into the fridge. The top part of your body concealed by the door, leaving Cassian with a tantalizing view of your legs. The silk set you wore clung to you in all the right places, the fabric catching the subtle glow of flickering faelight, accentuating the curves that commanded his attention.

Fuck. He couldn’t tell if this was a dream or a nightmare for him in his current state.

As he stood there, silently observing, you straightened up. Your hands, adorned with an elegant grace, held onto something within the fridge as you turned to close it. You turned your head slightly and your eyes met his. A wave of warmth washed over Cassian.

"Cass?" Your voice was quiet, the surprise in your eyes quickly replaced by recognition. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. You stood tall, a small plate of mixed berries in your hand. He wasn’t surprised, though, you always had such strange midnight cravings. Still slack-jawed and captivated, Cassian tried to find the words to break the silence. He watched as your face softened and your brows pulled together. “Cant sleep?” You asked.

He blinked. And then shook his head. “Nope.” He finally replied.

You smiled, a warm and inviting expression that made Cassian's heart skip a beat, and made a motion with your head to call him closer to you. You pulled yourself onto the counter, swinging your feet as they hung. Cassian settled next to you, leaning against the counter. The cold slight touch of the cold surface on his bare back sent a chill through his body. His wings nestled comfortably behind him.

Cassian watched you as you hummed quietly, bringing the berries to your mouth. He watched the way your lips wrapped around them, the way your throat moved as you swallowed. His thoughts went straight to his cock, feeling a stirring that had him fighting to maintain his composure.

Get it together. His mind echoed. He sorted through his thoughts, then he looked up at you. “I’ve missed you this week.” He confessed.

You paused, bringing a strawberry away from your lips. Turning to look at him, you gave him a dimpled smile. "Well, you didn’t have to wait until the dead of the night to find me,” You responded. “I’ve missed you, too.”

Cassian mirrored your smile and then let out a deep breath. Despite fighting back his intrusive thoughts about you not even minutes ago, his heart was steady and calm. He could feel a sense of relief wash through his body as he stood next to you, watching you eat. The silence was comfortable— your presence was comfortable. Something warm, something familiar, something that felt like home.

“Want one?” You offered, holding your plate towards him. He glanced at you, then at the plate, and then at you again. His eyebrow raised.

“C’monnnn,” You said, your voice light and amused, “Every healthy male needs to eat his fruits and vegetables.”

Cassian let out a chuckle. “At three in the morning?”

You shrugged casually. “I don’t think the time matters.” You popped a blueberry in your mouth, looking at him. Then you picked one up from the plate, reaching your hand out to his face, the fruit hovering in front of his lips. “They’re nice and fresh and cold.”

He couldn’t say no to you. Not when you were looking at him like that.

With a reluctant smile, Cassian moved to take it from your outstretched hand, but you intervened, a softness in your eyes. "Allow me," you said. He responded with a subtle nod. Holding the berry delicately between your fingers, you brought it to his mouth. For a second, your finger brushed against his lips, a small fleeting touch, the ghost of a sensation. An unexpected surge of electricity coursed through him, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake as it moved throughout his body.

His gaze locked onto yours, your attentive eyes and your mouth slightly parted. Like many other things, you’d done this before, had given Cassian food straight to his mouth. But in the stillness of the night, with the glow on your soft skin and your silk set, Cass struggled to breathe.

A slight grin played on your lips as Cassian, still entranced, tasted the berry you had fed him. He chewed slowly, deliberately, and then swallowed. "See?" you said in a soft, teasing tone, “And it probably tasted better with me feeding you it like some God. You’re welcome.”

Cassian, still under the spell of your touch, let out a small breath. "You're always right, aren't you?"

You met his gaze, a quiet confidence in your eyes. "It's part of my charm," you replied, the words carrying a hint of playfulness. He watched as you returned your attention to your plate, finishing the last of the berries that adorned it. You looked over at him. "It's getting late," you said, dropping down from the counter. "I should probably get some sleep."

As you stood up and stretched, Cassian's eyes followed the movement, taking in the curve of your ass as you arched your back. Your silk set rode up slightly, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of your stomach. He felt a surge of desire that made him both embarrassed and excited, like he was a 16 year old again, ready to fuck anything near him. Cassian allowed his eyes to wander back up, taking in the sight of your chest, the way the silk set clung to your breasts, the subtle rise and fall of your breaths. He felt his mouth water.

You rolled your shoulders, turning to look at him with a subtle furrow in your brow.

“You okay?”

Cassian cleared his throat, shaking off his thoughts. If he didn’t know any better, he would think that there was a blush rising to his cheeks, a heat he was suddenly aware of on his face.

“Yeah,” He responded, his voice huskier than intended, “Just tired.”

You shot Cassian a mildly unconvinced look with a subtle raise of your eyebrows, but gave him a half-smile, anyways. “Get some rest, Cass,” You said softly, “See you tomorrow.”

Cassian stayed still, eerily still, as he watched you walk away, watched your legs move and the way the fabric of your clothes rippled as you walked. When you were out of eyesight, he let out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Then he titled his head and let out a groan at the ceiling. He took a minute to compose himself, to attempt to regulate the blood in his body– blood that was moving straight to the heat collecting like a pool in his chest. Rubbing his hands along his face, Cassian slowly headed for his room. The quiet of the night that once soothed him now felt like a void, one that yearned for your voice again, for you.

By the time he made it to his room, Cassian’s mind was filled with images of you– of the silk material sliding across your skin, of the way your lips wrapped around the berries, of him bending you over the counter. Gods. Feeling the strain of his desire, Cassian reached down and started to stroke himself through his pants, the loose and thin material of his sweatpants doing little to buffer the friction from his palms. He felt a deep groan leave his mouth at the image of you in front of him, kneeling with your eyes wide and hungry, your lips parted, ready for him.

He slid his hand into the waistband of his sweatpants, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of his cock. He pulled his pants and briefs down his legs, letting his throbbing length fall against his stomach as wrapped his hands around himself. Cassian worked himself in smooth strokes, swallowing every time his thumb grazed the head of his cock. He let his mouth fall open as he imagined you, imagined your body moving beneath him, your eyes locked on him as he took you.

Closing his eyes, Cassian thought of the sound of your moans, fantasizing about how your breath would quicken, how your body would tremble with pleasure as he satisfied your desires. His hand moved faster, his grip tightening as the images in his mind grew more detailed— every sound you’ve emitted to him before, every laugh, every grunt as you trained, every soft sigh, all began to morph together into one beautiful melody. You’re moaning underneath him, desperate, all-consuming, so hungry for him that you’re forced to stifle your whimpers with the back of your hand.

Cassian felt the tension coiling in his body, the tightness in his balls, and the warmth spreading through his body. He imagined you writhing underneath him, your hips chasing his every thrust, your body arching beneath him, eyes filled with pleasure as he filled you with his seed. His orgasm hits him fast, his body trembling with the force of his release as he painted his stomach with the evidence of his desire.

Even after he’d cleaned himself off, after he’d submerged himself in a cold bath, Cassian’s mind still lingered on you, on your silk set, on your lips— on your laugh. And as he tossed and turned in bed once more, Cass realized he was completely fucked.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

"What's got you so flustered?" Mor asked, a playful smirk dancing on her lips.

Mor knew exactly why you were so flustered. Her, Amren, and Feyre had guessed it from the beginning— the subtle touching and lingering gazes. You liked Cassian, like-liked Cassian. And until now, you had refused to admit it.

As you remembered the moment with Cassian a mere three nights ago, a blush crept onto your cheeks. You ran your hands down your face and let out a groan. Feyre and Mor exchanged amused glances.

“He walked in shirtless!” You exclaimed, your voice still slightly covered by your hands running down your face. “Gods, I didn’t know what to do. I just kept shoving berries in my mouth. And then I kept trying to find a reason to touch him but I couldn’t.”

Feyre, who sat next to you with her legs to the side, comfortably nestled into the crook of the couch, leaned forward, looking at you with expectant eyes. “So what did you do?” She asked.

You shifted in your seat, avoiding eye contact by focusing on a loose thread on the couch. "I gave him a berry." Your voice was quiet. You spared Feyre a glance under your brow. When you saw her face crinkle in amusement, you quickly looked away, nervously twirling the thread between your fingers. It snapped quickly.

From in front of you, Mor stared, her brows furrowed and mouth slightly parted. “You gave him… a berry?” She leaned back, a look of intrigue on her face.

You nodded slowly, aware of how lame it sounded. “Yes. I fed him a berry.” You said, looking up at her.

"And?" Feyre asked.

You pursed your lips and glanced at her, and then bounced your vision around the room. There was a deep sense of embarrassment that bubbled in your stomach, a feeling that made you want to hide away. You were flustered, more than you had ever been, and it was due to your best friend shirtless in the kitchen. You felt like a schoolgirl with a crush— and it was humiliating. But looking at both of your friends, so eagerly sitting, you let out a breath and word-vomited them the truth.

“And I’ve never been so aroused by someone's lips and the faint feeling of stubble! Gods, what do I do?” You lifted your hands up in exasperation, finding yourself sinking further into the couch. Crossing your arms, you huffed in frustration. Your cheeks flushed, and you could feel the heat radiating from them.

“I know what to do.” Mor said, matter-of-factly. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You do?" Your hands dropped to your lap and you leaned forward.

"Yes. You need to get laid." Mor's tone was casual.

Your eyes widened. "W-What?" Your jaw dropped.

Mor only nodded her head affirmatively, jutting her chin out towards Feyre next to you. “She agrees.”

You shot a look to Feyre, who stared at you with wide eyes. She gave you a sheepish smile. “I mean…” She trailed off, looking towards Mor for help. You followed her gaze and turned your head to the blonde once more.

"We’re going to Ritas," Mor declared. She stood up, a confident sway to her hips as she moved towards the door.

"But we went last week," You protested. Mor stopped in her place and turned around to look at you with feigned innocence.

"Oh, I’m sorry,” She said, bringing her delicate hand to her chest, “I didn’t realize it was illegal to go out two weekends in a row."

You tilted your head and threw her an unamused look, but Mor only grinned at you. When you let out a defeated sigh and shook your head, she knew she had won and looked towards Feyre.

“Amren will come, too. It’ll be a girls night. Right, Fey?”

Feyre smiled and turned to look at you, meeting your gaze. “Right.” She affirmed. She leaned forward, placing a soft hand on your bicep. “It’ll be fun.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

When the day began winding down, Mor returned from her apartment, arms heavy with dresses. She strolled into your room, Amren in tow, with the same grin from earlier. Looking towards where you and Feyre sat on your couch, she let out an excited squeal. “Tonight is going to be great.”

You glanced at Amren, who merely gave you a small quirk of her lips before planting herself down on the seat opposite of you, watching as Mor dumped her pile of clothes on your bed.

You casted a glance at the pile of dresses, each with their own gorgeous vibrant color and delicate fabrics. You looked over at Mor. “Couldn’t decide on what to wear?” You mused. You pulled yourself up and walked towards her, examining the dresses on your bed. You brought the fabric of one between your fingers, feeling the delicate silk.

Mor let out a laugh, bringing her hand to your arm. She looked at you with an amused glance. “Oh babe, these aren’t for me.”

You frowned at her, and then your face fell. “Oh, these are for me?”

She nodded excitedly. Looking behind you towards Amren and Feyre. “Tell her how beautiful these would look on her.”

You didn’t look back, instead running your hands across the pile of elegant dresses. It wasn’t that you didn’t love them. Each dress was gorgeous in its own right, and if they belonged to Mor, you knew that they would look even better on– sexy, even. But you frowned slightly at the idea of dressing up to go to Rita’s with the goal of getting noticed. Unlike times before, it didn’t seem appealing. But perhaps you were overthinking. After all, the past two weeks had left you in your head too much.

Feyre craned her head slightly, watching as you stared at the dresses. “They are beautiful, Y/n.”

You let out a small sigh. This was good for you. Mor was right, you needed to get laid. You hadn’t fucked in a while. With all the tension and stress you’d been feeling, the worries about Koschei and impending doom, it made sense that your desires would manifest in someone familiar like Cassian, right? You nodded to yourself at the thought and then smiled. “Tell me which to try on first.”

You eyed the first dress Mor handed you. It was a stunning creation, soft and open, with a low neckline that hinted at just the right amount of allure. The fabric shimmered in the faelight of your room. As you slipped it on, the dress clung to your figure, accentuating curves you didn't always pay attention to. But it didn’t feel right. The straps felt a bit too loose, and as you turned to check yourself in the mirror, you realized the openness that had seemed so alluring was now making you uneasy.

Amren’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

You nodded in agreement, tugging at the neckline. "Yeah, I think I’ll pass."

Feyre chimed in with a supportive smile. "Let's try the next one. Maybe it'll capture the right feeling. Yeah?” She turned her head to the side, motioning towards some dresses that Mor stood over as she sorted through them. Each dress was a different variation of red, Mor’s beautiful statement color and one that screamed confidence and grace. Surely Mor owned more than red, you thought. Why had she decided that you both were going to adorn her signature color tonight? You didn’t think too long about it, your gaze fixed on yourself in the mirror.

After a few more desperate tries, and Amren’s decreasing confidence in Mor’s styling abilities, the blonde reached into the pile of dresses and pulled out a final dress that had you releasing a small gasp. The fabric was a deep, rich ruby red that seemed to absorb the light around it. As you slipped into the dress, the material clung to your curves, accentuating your silhouette. The neckline dipped low, revealing just enough to be tantalizing without feeling excessive, and you appreciated how naturally your breasts fell underneath it. The open back was a work of art, adorned with delicate jewels that cascaded down like a waterfall, drawing attention to the graceful curve of your spine.

You took a moment before looking at your friends. However, it was Amren specifically that you turned to for a decision, meeting her gaze. She let her eyes run down your figure before looking at you. The corners of her mouth tilted upwards as she gave you a small nod. “This is the one, girl.”

Feyre and Mor watched as you turned to examine yourself in the mirror. The dress opened at the hips, showcasing your thighs and legs. The overall effect was breathtaking, a harmonious blend of elegance and desire. Mor's eyes lit up with satisfaction. "Gods, you look so sexy."

You met Mor’s gaze in the mirror. “No ones going to be able to take their eyes off you,” She gushed, “You’ll have your fair pick of females and males.” You let your mind drift off as Mor continued to babble, feeling Feyre’s hands running through your hair as she twirled the strands between her fingers, deciding how she wanted to help you style it. You took in your appearance in the mirror, eyes roaming over the dress once more, over how well it accentuated your body. It wasn’t until your gaze was drifting up that you noticed the figure in the doorway, your heart stopping.

With a smirk playing on her lips, Amren’s voice rang out. "Hello, Cassian."

You, Feyre, and Mor turned in unison to the doorway, where Cassian stood wide-eyed and still. He paled slightly and swallowed. You felt a flush creep up your neck, your hand flying to your collarbone in an anxious movement. Despite the confidence the perfect dress had given you moments ago, the presence of Cassian in the doorway had thrown you off balance. His eyes roamed your body, tracing where the dress fell at your feet up to its neckline, and all the skin it revealed. His wings twitched behind him, falling slightly. You rubbed at the spot that your hand lay at.

Cassian, still caught off guard, stammered slightly. "I... uh, was just coming to see if you wanted to hang out." You felt your face soften, giving him a smile. Before you could respond, Mor waved him off dismissively.

"Oh, sorry. She’s busy," she said with a tight smile. You casted a quick glance at her before giving your best friend an apologetic one. His gaze lingered on you, running up your figure once more– the heat in his gaze felt like it was lighting you on fire, and you bit the inside of your cheek.

"I can see that.” He said. He cleared his throat. “So, uh, what's going on?" His eyes darted between the dresses thrown across your bed and to the girls surrounding you, each wearing beautiful, elegant gowns of their own. He didn’t miss the way Amren looked at him in amusement, or how her gaze trailed to you as she did so.

Feyre looked between you two before answering. “It's girls night," she explained, “We’re going to Ritas.”

Mor, however, turned around with a large grin. "Y/n is getting laid tonight!" she announced with unabashed enthusiasm.

Cassian's eyes widened, and he blinked rapidly as if trying to process the information. A sizzling sense of jealousy formed in his chest and he breathed out from his nose. The room fell silent for a moment before he finally managed to sputter out “I thought you were over casual flings?”

You bashfully stuttered, feeling a touch of awkwardness in the tense atmosphere, a small lump in the back of your throat, "Oh, well..." Your eyes searched for the right words, and you caught Mor's gaze, her curious stare making you feel a bit more exposed than you'd anticipated. "I don't know. We'll see." You shrugged slightly, giving him a close-mouthed smile.

Feyre and Amren exchanged glances, their eyes bouncing between you and Cassian. You didn’t catch it. Mor wanted to laugh, but instead she pressed her lips together and circled you, taking in the image of you in the dress. "I bet she'll have to fight off people tonight," she mused, casting a sly look in Cassian's direction. "Wouldn't you agree, Cassian?" Feyre’s head swung over to Mor and she gave her a tight look, her eyes widening slightly. Unaffected, the blonde looked back at her with an innocent face. What? She mouthed.

Cass was staring at you, unmoving and chest rising rapidly. You took in his casual wear, how his hair hung loosely, some strands in front of his face. He was looking at you with an intensity in gaze that you’d never felt before, a heat that made you feel like you were on fire. You swallowed, and then bit your lip, watching as his eyes took in those movements too. Having not fully registered Mor's question, he stammered again, "I—uh, what?"

Mor's grin widened, and she feigned innocence. "Oh, nothing. I'm just saying that she looks so beautiful. Tell her how beautiful she looks."

Cassian casted a quick glance at Morrigan, but quickly his eyes settled back to the place they were at before– your face, your body, you. You blushed at Mor's pointed comment. His eyes ran down your figure once more, seeming to trace the lines of the dress. You continued to rub nervously at your collarbone, the heightened attention making you slightly self-conscious.

Cassian, finally finding his words, cleared his throat. "You do look... incredible," he admitted, his eyes still fixed on you. You wondered if your friends were suddenly feeling smothered too, if something in the air was making it hard for them to breathe. Your heartbeat echoed in your ears. You resisted the urge to gulp down another nervous breath. Mor let out a small sound of agreement before she looked over at the illyrian male.

"Okay, thats enough gawking, Cassian. We all know Y/n is hot. Now leave us be. Go find Az or Rhys or something," she declared. Your eyes widened slightly, and Cassian shook his head, his mouth slightly parting. Caught between embarrassment and amusement, he took Mor's words in stride. “Right.” He responded with a smile.

He turned around to leave, but before fully retreating, he stole one last glance in your direction. You noticed the subtle, lingering look on his face—an admiring gaze, accompanied by a fleeting lick of his lips. There was a certain longing in his eyes that didn't go unnoticed. Then, you watched as a different expression overcame his features. He walked out before you had a chance to examine it further.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You let out a small laugh as Mor continued to compliment you, talking over her shoulder as you, Feyre, and Amren followed her, approaching the main foyer. Your laughter died as Mor stopped in her tracks and frowned slightly.

"What are you guys doing?" She asked, a mix of surprise and annoyance in her voice. As you caught up to where she stood, you were greeted with the unexpected sight of Cassian, Azriel, and Rhysand standing in front of the door, seemingly waiting for you. Dressed in impeccably tailored suits, each of them exuded a distinctive charm. The realization hit you—the look on Cassian’s face as he departed from your room earlier, the sense of determination, the lingering cue of playfulness. He had gone and convinced them both to join.

You couldn't help but appreciate the attention to detail in how they looked, and Cassian, in particular, stood out. His wings, a symbol of his power and grace that you adored, were confidently spread, and his slicked-back hair added a touch of elegance to his rugged charm. He not only looked good, he looked absolutely delicious. You didn’t attempt to hide the look on your face as you took him in.

Finally ripping your eyes from your best friend, you looked behind him, to where Azriel sat, his face donning its usual cool expression, but you could sense it- the hint of annoyance that laid underneath it. Meanwhile, next to him, Rhysand sported a large, confident grin. A grin that Cassian mirrored, but with a touch less confidence, his eyes flickering between you and the others. Amren, observing the situation with her usual detached demeanor, glanced at Rhysand and deadpanned, "You're coming with us."

Rhysand's grin widened, and he nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely! Girls' night, right?" He threw his mate a wink. You heard her stifle some laughter.

Cassian, scratching the back of his head, added with a sheepish smile, "Figured we'd join the fun. Tonight’s been a bit boring." He gestured around him. Then his gaze fell on you. For what felt like the millionth time tonight, his eyes raked over you and you blinked, catching his gaze when it fell on your face. “You don’t mind, do you?”

You didn’t mind. Not one bit, you thought. If he kept looking at you like that, with those eyes and that heated gaze, you wouldn’t mind a thing he did. He could ask you for anything right now, and you’d say yes. Yes, yes, just keep staring at me like that. Like you see me, like you want me.

Mor scoffed, "Yes, we do mind!" She turned to you, looking for support. "Tell them it's a girls night."

All eyes turned to you, and you felt a flutter of uncertainty. There was Cassian, his eyes locked onto yours, examining you, your every feature, your every move. The heat of his eyes had started to pooled down at your thighs. You clenched everything below your waist as you hesitated for a moment, still caught in the intensity of his gaze. Mor's impatience grew, and she raised an expectant eyebrow. "Well?"

You lingered on Cassian, and despite Mor's expectant face, you found yourself saying, "No, I don't mind."

Mor's expression shifted from annoyance to resignation, and she let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine."

Cassian's face brightened with a grin, "I promise, Mor, it'll be so fun." His attention turned towards you, walking to you with a soft, but charming grin. "Allow me." He extended his elbow, and without hesitation, you interlocked your hand with his. The touch was comforting and warm, and his scent enveloped you as he guided you towards the exit. You closed your eyes with a content sigh.

The fragrance that clung to him was intoxicating. Maybe it was a bad idea to invite him tonight, to let him join you and the girls. The dress you were wearing gave you an inflated sense of confidence that you hadn’t felt for a while, and as you walked alongside Cassian, you wondered if it would truly be so bad to indulge in your thoughts of him. To think of his hands, the some ones with you right now, and how they would trace your body the way his eyes had this evening. You felt your arousal bubbling up at the thought of it. It was all in innocent fun, right? You could think of him, enjoy this touch, fantasize about him, as long as that's all it was— thoughts in your mind, away from reality, an idea that you never let come to fruition.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You had to admit, Mor was right. Rita’s was definitely the move tonight. Somehow it was even more lively than last week, bustling with people and energy. You weren’t as intoxicated as last time, not anywhere near it, but you felt drunk all the same. And you weren’t ashamed to admit, now, that your drunken haze was all caused by one thing: your extremely attractive best friend.

You and Cass had lost the rest of your group a while back, pulled into a drink off with a beautiful fae couple. Cassian and you had won every single round, leaving you standing at the bar now, celebrating with another round of shots.

Cassian was standing next to you as you both faced the bar, your arms touching, practically on top of one another. Cass craned his head to look at the crowd behind you, his hand wrapping around your waist as people drunkenly stumbled past you, making their way to the bar. On usual nights, Cassian’s hand would have dropped by now, returned to their position at his side, but not tonight. Instead, he kept his hand across your waist, keeping a heavy hold on you. You could feel the heat from his palm through the thin fabric of your dress, and you felt it as it moved straight to your core. You instinctively rubbed your thighs together in an attempt to ignore it, suddenly feeling grateful for the multitude of smells in Rita’s that covered your arousal. You turned your head to the side to look at Cassian, noticing that his gaze was on you, but not on your face. Instead, it seemed as if he was looking to where his hand rested on your hip.

“What?” You asked, your brows furrowing, leaning closer to him. He tilted his head slightly, and then you felt his hand lift. You felt a small tinge of disappointment, but it quickly dissipated when you felt his light touch hovering over your back, tracing where the delicate jewels of your dress cascaded down your spine like a waterfall. Your body shuddered. You watched him as his gaze deepended, as he took his lip between his teeth. His hands traced the ornate jewelry, landing at the base of your spine, where the fabric of your dress gathered.

“I like this,” Cassian said, his voice low. His eyes flickered to yours, “Beautiful.”

Your chest fluttered at his words— was he complimenting the dress, or you? You couldn’t ask even if you wanted to, the air sucked out of your lungs with every lingering touch of his. Your mouth parted slightly as he stared at you, as you ran your eyes along his face. You felt the brush of his fingers on your spine now. He wasn’t tracing the jewelry anymore, no, he was touching you.

“Here you go,” A sudden voice pulled you out of the moment. Both you and Cassian turned your heads to the bartender placing two small shot glasses in front of you. You had forgotten you’d ordered another round, forgotten why you were at the bar in the first place, with your best friends hands over you. “I apologize for the wait.” The bartender said.

You spared him a quick glance, a small graceful smile on your lips, “No worries,” you said. But then you looked at him once more, recognizing the smile he wore, the sound of his voice. This was the bartender Cassian was talking about. And from the way he looked at you, how he pushed your glass to your hand, lightly grazed your fingers, you knew Cass was right about his interest in you.

“Thanks,” Cassian said, his voice rough. He grabbed both of the glasses in his hand, dragging them closer to your chests, his eyes trained on the bartender, whose smile faltered as he looked at your best friend. Cassian’s hand, which had fallen from your back at the interruption, found your hips again. “That’ll be it.” You didn’t need to look at the bartender to know that he shrunk away, intimated. You didn’t need to look because all you wanted to stare at was Cassian. Cassian, Cassian, Cassian. Something about his grip on you, on the way he’d pushed the bartender away, the way he’d touched your spine, all of it had you pooling at your core.

“Here,” Cass said, pushing your glass towards you with his knuckle. He grabbed his in his hand. The other hand was still at your hip, unmoving— except for the occasional circular rub of his thumb. You tenderly took the shot, angling your body to twist slightly so you could better face him. The hand on you moved appropriately, still staying placed on your hip as you maneuvered.

“Cheers.” You said, looking at him. You licked your lips as you held the shot up. Cassian met yours, the two glasses making a clink as they touched. “Cheers.” He responded.

Tilting your head back, you welcomed the shot openly, letting the liquid coat your throat, feeling the warmth as it moved down. When you were done, you were met with Cassian’s gaze once more, watching you. His gaze followed the column of your throat as you swallowed. His hand moved to your face, his thumb wiping away a stray drop of whiskey on your chin. The touch itself sent a frenzy through your body, and you let out a small, quiet gasp.

“Y/n.” He murmured.

“Yes?”

Your voice was barely above a whisper, your body still. He was closer to you now than a few moments ago, and it took everything in your power not to pull him even closer, to brush against him.

“You can’t look at me like that.” Cassian finally replied.

Your heart leaped, and you took a sharp intake of breath. How were you looking at him, you wondered? Mor’s words echoed in your mind: like he was a piece of meat and you were a starving vegetarian? She was right. Oh, so right. You wanted to taste him, to devour him, to have him ravish you in return. You swallowed and then whispered in response.

“Like what?”

Cassian said nothing. He scanned your face and then his hand was moving again, brushing a stray strand of your hair from your face. When the hair still fell out of place, he gingerly grabbed it and tucked it behind your ear. You felt his finger trace the shell of your ear, falling as it reached your lobe, now on your cheek. You closed your eyes, leaning into the touch, pressing closer to him. His grasp at your hip tightened, and you felt as it moved up, his hands now grabbing the skin at your waist.

When you opened your eyes, your gaze met his instantly. He was breathing heavily, his eyes filled with desire. "We should probably find our friends," he whispered, his voice hoarse. You nodded absentmindedly, feeling your chest tighten. Cassian’s palm slightly lifted from your cheek, the ghost of his touch lightly moving. His thumb found your lips, tugging at them slightly, you let your mouth fall open with the touch. He nearly let out a moan at the sight.

“Or,” You whispered back, “We could go home.”

He nodded, the pad of his thumb still rubbing at your lip. “We could.”

You lifted your hand to grab his wrist softly, pulling it lower, to your chest. You felt the heat of his palm as it landed on your chest. “Cassian.” His cock pressed angrily against his zipper at the sound of his name falling from your lips so sensually, so softly. His hand trailed higher, and then he was wrapping it around your neck, his thumb running along your throat. You savored the touch and bit your lip, looking at him through your lashes. The look was all he needed, any self-constraint quickly disappearing.

“Let's go home.” He said, his thumb running alongside your lips once more. Then, he was spinning you both around, interlacing your fingers as he pulled you through the crowd.

As Cassian led you out, you looked back, squinting at the mass of people. Your gaze landed on Feyre, who was already looking at you. You watched as she glanced between you and Cassian, and then she gave you a small smile, her brows slightly furrowed. Be careful. Her voice echoed in your brain, soft and gentle. You weren't sure what she was referring to, if she was talking about your trip home or the way you were entangled with your best friend. Either way it didn’t matter. You weren’t being careful, not now. You didn’t want to be.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You weren’t quite sure what to do. You’d never been in this position with someone you loved so dearly— never been in the situation where you were about to fuck your best friend.

The way home was a blur, the cold air as you both left Rita’s in a hurry, how Cass had wrapped his arms around you, how they had wandered and explored, but nowhere too vulnerable— not yet. You had made it a few minutes before you decided to winnow back, your ability fully functioning and, at the moment, incredibly convenient. Back at the house, you both had stared at each other, breathing hard, heavy-lidded eyes with lust. You could smell it on him. You didn’t doubt that you reeked of your own arousal. But Cass has stepped away from you, for a brief moment, biting his lips as his hands curled at his sides. Whatever you want, sweetheart, is what he had said. He wanted to give you an out, a chance to change your mind, to decide that this wasn’t a line you wanted to, or were ready to, cross. The realization hit you sweetly, and it only added to your arousal, the fact that he was so aware of you.

You had looked at him, a small nod of your head towards the hallways, towards the corridors that led to your rooms. You hadn’t said anything, a heavy silence followed you, filled with longing and desperation, a hint of anxiety. You had waited, let Cassian take the next move. If he followed, you both knew what would happen. You had given him an out, too.

You worried when some time had passed and you were still alone in your bedroom. You walked towards your mirror, taking in your appearance, the dress on you, the evident arousal on your face, in your stature. Then you heard him. His walking. You closed your eyes, hearing his heavy footsteps enter your room. You heard your door shut, and the footsteps grew louder until you felt him behind you, the warmth of his body enveloping you completely. You let out a small breath.

“Cass,” You whispered, your eyes opening and meeting his in the mirror.

His hands found your hips, and he pulled you back into him. You felt his hard length against you, pressing against your exposed back, the heat of it alone causing you to let out a small, shaky breath. You leaned back into him, rubbing against him as his fingers tightened around you. Craning your head to the side, Cassian took advantage of your exposed neck, running his nose along it, inhaling your scent. He nudged the sweet spot behind your ears, your knees almost giving out as his lips trailed the shell of your ear, feeling his hot breath against your skin.

His voice, rough as gravel, sent a wave through you of something you couldn’t name, but it was heavy, hot, and made you so incredibly horny. “Sweetheart, are you…” He trailed off.

Sure? Sober? You had a feeling that sober is what his question seemed to probe at. You nodded, nodded frantically. Every shot you had taken tonight had no effect on your body, not anymore. You’d felt the last lingering effects of your final shot as you both came home, feeling as it slipped out of your system. And if he was asking if you were sure, that answer was yes, too. You were boldly, acutely, and fully aware of the moment, of each sensation in your body— fully aware of the ache in your legs, of how good Cassian smelled. “Yes, yes.” You whispered.

“Thank god,” He groaned– a guttural, animalistic sound.

Before you could blink, Cassian was spinning you around. You let out a gasp, your view quickly taken up by the image of his face hovering over yours. He held your face in both of his hands, his thumbs swiping across your cheeks. His eyes scanned you in desperation, as if he was searching for something within the details of your features. Whatever he was looking for he seemed to find as he brought his lips to yours, giving in entirely with a soft moan of relief. His arms moved to wrap around your waist, and you moaned into him, flinging your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. He kissed you harder.

“You sure?” Cassian whispered, floating the question again. He slid his warm palm up and over your hips, to your waist, your ribs, and back down again. You let out a sigh at his touch, running your palms up to pull the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Yes,” You said as he feathered kisses along your neck. “Are you?”

You felt Cassian nod against you, a small breathless laugh left his lips as he came up for another kiss. “Fuck yes. I’ve been dreaming about this.” And then he placed another kiss on your lips, deep and sensual. Hunger radiated off him like a starved man. His words turned you to jelly and you swore you could feel your wetness running down your thighs.

“This dress,” he breathed against your lips, “I wanted to rip it off you the minute I saw it.”

Before you can react, he reached out and gripped the fabric of your dress, yanking it downward with a force that left your heart racing. You gasped as the material was torn from your body, leaving you standing before him in nothing but your underwear. You watched in awe as he threw the torn fabric aside, a small sound emitting as the jewels made contact with the hard floor. The cold air immediately took the place of the warmth of your clothing, making you shiver with pleasure.

“That was Mor’s!” You managed to breathe out, looking at the discarded pile of fabric. Your words died in your throat the minute you caught Cassian’s gaze again. There was a predatory look in his eyes as he took you in, and you remembered now that you were completely naked now, save for a lacy pair of panties. Your nipples perked, hard and ready, in the cold air. Cassian, his gaze unmoving, simply grumbled back, “I’ll buy her a new one.”

Cassian's eyes roamed over your naked body, his gaze heated as he took in the sight of you, completely at his mercy. His hands reached out, his fingers tracing a path down your arms, making you shake with anticipation. His hands moved to your hips, gripping you firmly as he pulled you closer. "You have no idea how beautiful you are," He said, "How much I've wanted this." You felt his erection, hard and ready, pressing against your stomach.

His lips found yours, his tongue plunging deep into your mouth as he kissed you with all the passion he'd been holding back. You felt the desire radiating from him, making you feel wanted and desired in a way that nothing else ever had. As he broke the kiss, his eyes locked on yours, filled with pure, unfiltered lust. "I'm going to make you come," he growled, his voice low and rough. "And when I do, you'll never forget the way I made you feel."

With that, he plunged his tongue back into your mouth, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer as you stand there, naked and vulnerable, your cunt throbbing with every word, every touch. Your hands gripped his hair, your fingers tangling in the strands as you pulled him closer, your bodies pressed together in a frenzy of passion.

Cassian broke away from you for a moment, his breath hot and heavy against your lips. "Jump," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. Without hesitation, you lifted yourself into his arms as he pulled you into him effortlessly. He wrapped himself around you, his hands gripping at your ass, fingers digging into your skin. You felt his erection pressing against you, underneath you, with desperate need.

He took a few steps before he carefully dropped you onto your bed with a bounce. You fell onto your back, your eyes wide with desire as you looked up at him. He took you in with his eyes, every detail of your body etched in his mind, hungrily saving the image of you for later.

Cassian's movements were hurried and frenzied as he removed his own shirt, discarding it carelessly on the floor near your--Mor's-- shredded dress. As he moved, you sat up from your supine position, your legs naturally falling to either side, finding yourself yourself in a kneeling position. You looked up at Cass. The sight of you like this, vulnerable and expectant, only intensified the hunger in his eyes, and he groaned.

You reached out to him and ran your fingertips along the waistband of his black pants, watching as his stomach muscles clenched in response to your touch. Cassian caught your wrists in his hands, looking down at you hungrily, he shook his hand. “Not yet, sweetheart. Let me savor this.”

You let out a small whimper, the sound shooting straight to his dick, causing the hardening length to throb in anticipation. But when he released your hands, you kept them at his waistband, bringing your hand to palm him through the fabric of his pants.

“Please,” You whimpered, “I want to.”

And what kind of man would Cassian be to deny you? To say no to you as you looked up at him with those glossy eyes, your lips running along your lips? He moaned, feeling as if he could cum at the sight of you alone. This, you, were better than any of his fantasies— and he had come up with a lot within the past two weeks.

You stared at him, at the way his muscles ripped under this golden skin, at the black tattoos curling around him, at the way his wings flared out openly, dominantly. You ached to be closer, to be able to touch the sensitive membrane. You licked your lips, taking in the curl of his biceps, the sharp dips of his hips, Gods, he was beautiful. He brought his right hand to your face, holding it tenderly before moving his hand to grab your hair at the back of your head. You took that as your invitation, leaning forward to undo his pants. With his buttons undone, you pulled the fabric down, Cassian’s hands aiding you to slide his underwear off with it.

You let out a gasp at his length, at the girth, the veins pulsing on the underside of his cock. Red and hungry at the tip, leaking. You were watering at the sight. A deep sense of jealousy pooled into your stomach, images of every female he’d been with before, every female who had the pleasure of experiencing this before you. Mine. You thought. Mine. Pushing yourself closer to him, you kissed a line down his stomach.

You felt his muscles tense beneath your lips as you wrapped your fingers around him. He hissed as you rubbed your hands up his considerable length, the sound repeating when you spit on the head, a trail of saliva connecting your lips to his shaft. You dragged the flat of your tongue upward, against the underside of his cock. Cassian’s reaction was instant, bucking into your grip with a breathless, raspy, moan that sent a wave of arousal down your body. You allowed your hand to follow the trail, spreading your saliva. Your mouth sunk down on him. As you hollowed your cheeks, Cassian pushed himself harder, letting out a sinful groan as you welcomed him, taking him deeper in your throat.

“Gods,” Cassian tightened his jaw as he watched his cock disappear between your swollen lips with every bob of your head. “That pretty little mouth of yours.”

You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, Cassian’s head falling backward as he moaned, his grip in your hair getting tighter. You moaned in response, the sound vibrating through him. You shifted on your thighs, rubbing them together in an attempt to relieve some of your own arousal. With a wet pop, you released him from your mouth, looking directly up at him as he stared at you with naked lust. You greedily swallowed the taste of him that coated your tongue.

“Enough. My turn.” He said, his voice halfway between growl and purr, a feral sound from deep in his chest that reverberated through your core. Cassian’s hand found your chest, after a squeeze of your breasts, his palm settled above your ribs. With a soft push, you were flat on your back again. He leaned over you and you seized the opportunity to rock against his thigh, your pussy throbbing at every touch of his, desperate for friction. But he moved quickly, leaving you grasping for touch. “Cassian.” You moaned. You pulled him back up again, desperate to have him close, slotting your lips against him.

He accepted another hungry, ravenous kiss from you before he moved down, trailing hard kisses down your jaw and across your collarbone. Your hands tugged at him, roaming over the length of his shoulders and the plane of his back, you trailed your fingers along his wings, the sensitive and soft membrane. You felt him shudder at the touch, watched as those beautiful wings twitched. You needed more.

Cassian stopped, taking a moment to bite into the soft flesh at the base of your neck. You let out a moan, throwing your hands into his hair as he sucked on the tender skin, soothing the area with a swipe of his tongue. He removed his mouth, tilting his head to make slight eye contact with you, a cocky grin placed on his lips.

“I’ll paint you in my marks, Y/n.” He whispered, moving his head down to continue his trail of kisses, “Just to have evidence that I was lucky enough to be here.”

He brought one hand between your thighs, his large calloused fingers dancing over your sensitive flesh, his perfect mouth still exploring you, tasting your skin. Your moans tumbled from your mouth, outside of your control, flowing like a river. You tightened your grasp on his hair, your fingers raking his scalp, pelvis lifting into his touch. Your legs widened further to provide him better access, knees dropping to the side.

“To feel this.” Cassian’s fingers pulled your underwear aside and ran themselves through the wetness at your core, through your sensitive folds. His finger delicately circled your clit, rubbing at it in a way that had you mewing at his touch.

You let out a gasp as one probed at your entrance, your warm core welcoming it greedily. You felt his finger curl, and then arched into him as he added another, working in and out of you. You could hear the squelch of your juices as he fingered you, could feel the way your essence dripped with each movement.

A disappointed sigh left your lips when the warmth of his hand left you. But seconds later, as you looked down at him with your hands in his hair, he pulled himself up slightly– just enough to look at you. Just enough to make eye contact as he tilted his head and stuck his slick fingers into his mouth. He lapped at the wetness coating his fingers.

“Fuck, you taste better than I imagined.” He said, moving down to drop to his knees at the edge of the bed, between your spread legs. You propped yourself up on your elbows to keep your gaze on him. He looked at you, heavy lidded, his mouth glistening with the remnants of your slick. “May I?”

Please, please. He didn’t need to ask, you thought. You wanted him everywhere, wanted him on you, in you, all over you. Whatever he wanted was what you wanted. You lazily nodded, your tongue darting out again to wet your lips.

“Words, sweetheart,” Cassian murmured, placing hot and wet kissing along your thighs. His arms snaked under your thighs, hands reaching to grab your hips and pull you closer. He slowly peeled your drenched panties off your body. “I want to hear you.”

“Yes,” You finally managed to croak out. Your voice deep and needy. “Please, Cass.”

And then his tongue was on you, licking a stripe up your dripping sex. You let out a loud moan at the contact, at the feeling of his tongue. He flattened his tongue against your folds, dragging it slowly. Your hands found his hair and gripped it roughly between your fingers, your body curling around him. Cassian’s tongue dipped into your hole, darting in, again and again. Your legs trembled as stars began to cloud your vision.

“Cassian,” You choked out, feeling the building pressure in your stomach. You tried bucking your hips, but Cassian kept your thighs still, steady in a position where you couldn’t escape his wicked mouth. His tongue alternated between teasing your clit and slipping into your entrance. Your spined bowed in pleasure, and you brought one hand to your breasts, rubbing them and pinching at your nipples as Cassian ravaged you.

“You’re delicious. So fucking delicious.” Cassian crooned as he pulled apart from your cunt. He took a minute to admire the sweet image of you dripping in front of him, and then he dove back in. He let out a moan, quiet but still audible, and you noticed his other hand had removed itself from your thigh, now hidden from your view. As you looked, you saw it visibly moving, frantically, desperately. Cassian was eating you out and rubbing his own cock at it, pleasuring himself as he lapped at you. You moaned at the idea alone. The noises you made were loud, loud enough that you knew your family would hear if they were home already. But you didn’t care, you had no shame. Let them hear.

Cassian was murmuring into your core; he repeated something, the words falling from him like a prayer from a dying man. You were barely able to hear his whispers over the sound of your own blood rushing through your ears. Cassian pulled back a little then, heedless of your firm hold on his hair, watching you with his jaw set, eyes dark and greedy.

“Oh, Y/n,” he said huskily. “I could feast on this beautiful pussy forever, you know that?”

As he withdrew his mouth, he replaced its presence with his fingers instead. His thumb resumed the stimulation on your clit while his fingers moved inside your. When he slid another finger into you, your hips jumped, moving to meet his fingers faster. He curled his fingers into you as you rutted down harder. He groaned as your walls clenched when he curled his fingers, hitting a spot that had you whining his name. Your face contorted in pleasure and you let your head fall back. Cassian’s hand gripped at your thigh, calling your attention back.

“Down here,” He hummed, “Keep those pretty eyes down here.”

You brought your head back up, supporting yourself with your elbows. Cassian’s eyes stayed on yours as he lowered himself to your sex again, nustling his nose against your clit before he licked a stripe up your cunt, bringing his mouth to suck on your clit. You felt his fingers enter you again– one, then two. They brushed against you as he lapped at your clit, drawing circles with his tongue. You could barely breathe, the air leaving your lungs as Cassian filled your body with sweet, suffocating ecstasy. Your right hand found itself in his hair again, grabbing, pulling. He let out a groan at the feeling, and continued to lap at you.

You felt it everywhere, felt him everywhere. Pleasure gushed through your body, every part of your body sensitive. You writhed under him, your vision of Cassian growing blurry as you felt your pleasure build, coiling deep in your belly, ready to explode. You’re weren't sure what was up or down, forgotten where you were completely. Nothing existed except you and Cassian and the way he fucked you with his fingers and his mouth, and Gods, the thought of your reality alone made you want to cum. You grinded against his mouth, feeling as he grabbed you, pulled you closer, harder, against him, completely smothering him.

“Oh my Gods, yes, yes, yes.” The sounds you were emitting were music to his ears and Cassian continued.

The mixture of your pleasure, of Cassian’s grunts, his smells, of the way his wings twitched with each of your moans, made it even sweeter when Cassian brought another finger to your entrance. That tight, hot, built-up coil in your stomach loosened and you shriled loudly, your back bowing off the bed beneath you. Your whole body quaked as your orgasm rippled through you.

Cassian was in heaven— he was sure of it. You were a vision, your cheeks flushed, your lips parted as you moaned out in pleasure, your hard grasp in his hair. He felt every sound from your lips, every whisper of his name falling straight to his aching cock. Cassian, fuck, Cassian. You chanted them like a prayer and he swallowed them all. You were something holy, something absolutely divine and he felt himself losing it. He wanted to worship you forever, to stay buried in your cunt and die a happy man. Every man before him hadn’t appreciated you enough. He wanted to make you his, his beautiful creature, his goddess.

Cassian slowed his movements, but didn’t halter them completely as he let you work through the wave of your pleasure. Your hand had gone lax in his hair, and he took the opportunity to pepper kisses across your skin — across your legs, across your cunt, even the sweaty crook of your thigh, anywhere his lips could reach. The hand that once gripped your thighs so tightly softened. Cassian rubbed gentle circles around your skin. He waited, and only until your body stopped shaking and you let out a small content sigh between your ragged breaths did he remove his fingers from you.

He gave your core a slight smack and you let out a gasp, the action sending a spark throughout your body, leaving you aching and throbbing more than you had been seconds before. Cassian gave you a smirk.

“Holy fuck,” You breathed, looking at him with wide eyes. “Cassian…” You watched as he stood up, bringing his fingers to his mouth as he licked off your juices once more. Your gaze dropped to his chest, and then to his throbbing cock. He stroked it as he looked at you, and your core ached once more, clenching at the thought of him inside you. Cassian stared at you, lips parted, drinking the sight of you eagerly. You pushed yourself further up, scooting back enough to lie flat on the middle of your bed.

“You are a vision. A godsdamn vision,” Cassian spoke, the words falling off his tongue in a breathless confession, “Thought about this for so long.” He walked over to you.

You gulped at the admission, thinking back onto your own fantasies of him, of his hands, of his mouth. You blinked, watching as he braced his hands on the bed. “Yeah?”

Cassian nodded, bringing his hand to rub alongside your legs, tracing the curves of your body. As he crawled onto the bed, he let his hands wander with every movement. “Yeah, sweetheart.”

The nickname made your heart clench, and you felt your wetness building once again, your pussy still sensitive from your previous orgasm. “Tell me.” You whispered. He straightened himself, moving to hover over you. With one arm supporting his weight, Cassian rocked his hips against yours. He molded his other hand to your breasts, sucking in a deep, ragged breath. You arched into his touch, mewing for more. You felt your heart throb, a warmth enveloping your chest. You couldn’t breathe. All you wanted to feel was him, his hands, his skin, his touch. His touch cascaded down your body, grabbing at your thighs, pulling them closer to him.

“Rubbed myself raw at the thought of you underneath me like this.” He placed a kiss to your chest, quickly turning it into a small love bite, sucking at the skin tenderly. He released your skin with a brush of his teeth, bringing his fingers to softly touch the bruised skin. His fingers returned to your torso, teasing your nipples once more, bringing them between his fingers. He bent his head down and took one of your nipples into his mouth. You arched into him, letting out a sweet sound at the wet contact. Cass swirled his tongue around the hardened nub before gently tugging it with his teeth, causing you to let out a cry of pleasure that quickly turned into a whine when he lifted his head. He lightly blew on your nipple, eliciting a soft gasp of pleasure as your nipple peaked harder, responding to the contrast of his hot mouth and the cool air. He repeated the same motions with your other breast.

You moaned as you felt him tease your entrance with the head of his cock, rubbing it against your clit and around your inner lips. You impatiently bucked your hips, trying to guide him where you wanted him, where you ached for him, but Cassian’s firm hand on your lower abdomen halted your movements.You looked up at him with frustration, frowning at the sly grin on his mouth.

“Cass, please,” You pleaded with broken whimpers. Cassian said nothing, moving his head down to kiss alongside your neck, taking your earlobe between his teeth. He teased you more, and in a movement of exasperation, fueled by the swelling and throbbing of your heat, you pulled him towards you by his neck. You placed your forehead against his, looking at him through heavy eyes. “Cassian, please fuck me already.”

Cassian gave you a wolfish grin. “Since you asked so nicely,” he said, bringing you in for another kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the kiss wet with desire and something more you couldn't place. Taking a breath and pulling apart, Cassian moved his hand to grab his cock, stroking it once, twice, before lining it up with your entrance.

You let out a deep moan as he pushed into you, feeling yourself stretching around him. Your previous climax had left you sensitive, so sensitive that the first rock of Cassian’s hips left you gasping for air. Cass let out a guttural groan, leaning his forehead against yours as he bottomed out. His hair clung to his forehead. You looked up at him, at his mouth open in pleasure, and ran your hands alongside his face.

“Fuck,” His breath fanned your face. He looked at you with that deep intensity in his gaze that stirred your heart. The next thrust was just as slow, Cassian pushing in as deep as your body would allow. “You, You feel fucking incredible.”

You closed your eyes, the sensations overwhelming you. But soon, Cassian’s voice snapped again, and you felt one hand grab your face, his hand holding your jaw, his thumb rubbing at your lips. “Look at me, beautiful.” He said, letting his thumb dip into your mouth.

You spread legs spread open to the sides as he began to vigorously slam into you with no restraint, never breaking the eye contact he'd so quickly grown to love. He drank it all in: the clapping noises of flesh and your sensual screams, the sensation of your wet heat wrapped around him, the sopping sounds of your love making, and the way your nails dug into his arms as he told you how good you felt.

You rolled your hips, pushing against his merciless rhythm of thrusts. Cassian looked down at where your bodies met, at where his cock filled you, entranced by the way your hips subconsciously tilted at the intrusion, at how your hole welcomed him. With a growl, he lifted your legs over his shoulders, positioning you perfectly for his rough, relentless thrusts. Your breath caught in your throat as your watched him fuck you, your heart pounding in her chest. “Cass, Cassian.”

“Keep saying my name, baby.” The pet name fell from his lips so effortlessly, caressing you like another wave of heat. “Tell me how good it feels.”

As he continued to move inside you, your thoughts jumbled into a mess of pure pleasure. You let out a string of incoherent words, your mind drunk on the feeling of him stretching you, hitting spots you’d never experienced before. “S’Good.” You whimpered. You wrapped your arms tighter across his shoulders, reaching to touch the delicate membrane of his wings. They twitched under your fingertips, and you felt Cassian let out a moan before the sound registered in your ear. He snaked a hand where your bodies met, finding your swollen, aching clit, and began to rub circles around it. You gasped.

“I wish I could be here forever,” Cassian groaned, his lips hovering over your ears, “Stay buried inside of your cunt. Fuck you like this for the rest of my life.” You didn't know if Cassian was aware of what he was saying, aware of what it implied, but you didn't care. It all felt so good, and his words made every stroke even more pleasurable. You wanted this, you wanted this for the rest of your life– you’d never experienced something this great, never known this level of pleasure could exist.

“Please, Cass. Please.” You didn't know what you were begging for, but Cassian hushed you, peckering kisses all over you, his head fell in the crook of your shoulder, moving to bring his teeth to the sensitive skin at your neck. You moaned. “Yes, yes. Mark me. I’m yours.”

Your words seemed to hit a part of him, forcing him to pull away and stare at you with wide eyes. He stilled inside of you. "Say that again," he commanded, his voice low and gravelly.

"I'm yours," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. You brought your hands to his face, gently rubbing his cheeks. The tender, soft touch sent a shock straight to his cock, and he pulled you into a deep kiss. When you pulled apart for air, Cassian’s strokes began to pick up again, his forehead resting on yours. "Fuck me like I'm yours." You said to him, your voice filled with raw desire.

Cassian’s mind shuffled through the past two weeks, the memories of the bartender hitting on you, of the men who never satisfied you. He felt a primal possessiveness, a need to take you faster, harder, deeper. His thrusts became more aggressive, more forceful, his wings caressing you as they wrapped around both of your bodies. You cried out in pleasure, your body arching beneath him, hands gripping the sheets as you took him deep inside you.

He watched you, admired your body sprawled on the bed before him, his hands on your hips, holding you at just the right angle. His mouth salivated at your beautiful face, flushed and red, and the way your breasts bounced in time with his thrusts. The noise of your fucking was obscene - the soft squeaks of your bed, the wet sounds of your bodies slapping together, the moans and curse words and harsh breathing. His grip on your hips tightened and his thrusts became more erratic.

Cassian’s movements became faster than you could process– one moment, he was thrusting into you, and the next, he was picking you up, maneuvering you so that you were sitting on his thighs, looking at him as he leaned back. You gasped at the new angle, at the feeling of sinking onto him completely. His eyes locked on yours as you straddled him and his hands guided you up and down his cock, your bodies slick with sweat and desire.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his hands gripping your ass, guiding you closer to him with each thrust. You could feel his cock swelling inside you, your pussy clenching around him as you rode him harder, faster, your body craving more. “Ride me just like that, sweetheart.” His voice rang in your head, making you dizzy. You arched forward towards him. One hand left your ass, going to grab one of your breasts, fondling with your nipple. His eyes were dark with desire, his gaze never leaving yours as he watched you take him deep inside you.

As you sank down onto him, his hips bucked up to meet you, your bodies connecting with a primal force. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, your pussy clenching around him as you moaned softly, your eyes closing in pleasure. But Cassian didn't want you to close your eyes. He wanted you to look at him, to see the raw fire in his eyes as he took you. He reached up, his hand wrapping around your throat, his fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp.

"Look at me," he growled, his voice rough like gravel. The sound itself made you clench around him as he fucked you. You opened your eyes, your breath catching in your throat as you met his gaze. His eyes were dark, filled with lust and possession, and you could feel your orgasm building as you looked at him. His hand tightened around your throat as he began to fuck you harder, his hips bucking up to meet you.

You felt his cock sliding deeper inside you, your pussy clenching around him, your body shaking with pleasure.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, "Look at me. Let me see you fall apart on my cock."

As you felt the intensity of your orgasm building, he pulled you down, holding you to his chest, in place, as he continued to thrust into you. You moaned, your forehead resting against his, your eyes locked on his as he continued to fuck you, his cock sliding in and out of you. "Cassian, please, please, I'm so close," you whimpered, your voice hoarse. His hands gripped your ass roughly, pulling you closer to him, sliding deeper and deeper into you with each thrust.

You felt his heart pounding beneath you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fucked you, his eyes never leaving yours. He stared at you as he whispered, "I've got you, baby. I've got you."

Your body trembled, your moans grew louder, and soon your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave– your body shook with pleasure, your pussy clenching around him, milking him. You gasped his name, your body convulsing over him, your sensitivity consuming you completely. You felt him tense, his cock swelling even more, and you knew that he was close as well.

His thrusts were rough and hard, each one sending waves of warmth coursing through you. Your body responded to his movements, your cunt massaging him, clenching around him, making him groan in response. He increased his pace, his thrusts becoming even rougher, sloppy, and more urgent. His hips moved in a frenzy, each thrust driving him deeper into you, his cock sliding against your most sensitive spots, making you moan with pleasure. You felt his balls slapping against your ass, the sound and sensation driving you wild, your hands grasped at him, at his shoulders, at his neck, at his hair.

You felt the tension building within him, his body tensing underneath you as he neared his climax. He gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin, holding you in place as he drove into you. You were certain he’d leave marks in their wake, that your hips, your thighs, your body would be bruised with the evidence of his touch. It made you feral.

Cassian’s breaths were ragged as he bucked into you roughly, a string of curses falling from his lips. Finally, he let out a low, primal grunt, his face contorted with pleasure as he came, his cum spilling deep within you. You felt the warmth of his seed filling you, the sensation making you shiver with pleasure. His thrusts became slower, gentler, as he tried to catch his breath, his body still trembling from the intensity of his orgasm. His grip on you loosened, and his hands began to rub up and down your spine, gently, softly, lovingly.

You both laid there for a moment, his cock still deep inside you. Pushing yourself up, you sat upright, Cassian letting out a groan at the feeling of him still inside you, your juices leaking between your legs and onto his skin. His hands rubbed at either of your thighs, both of you breathing heavily as you stared at one another— lips swollen, skin flushed, hair disheveled. You let out a deep breath and let your mouth fall open slightly.

“You are incredible.” Cassian breathed out, looking up at you, still entranced in your beauty. He admired the marks on your body from his mouth, and felt a small smirk growing on his lips. You let out a small exhausted laugh, your hands coming to rest at his shoulders, rubbing your thumb absentmindedly on his skin.

“So,” You said, still breathless, your voice raspy, “What now?”

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roseglazedlens · 7 months

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⦑ 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 ⦒ ✧.*

NANAMI KENTO X FEM! READER synopsis: Nanami is pent up after work, so you give him the best fifteen minutes of his day as a reward. content: 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈, suit kink, unprotected p in v, hair pulling, degradation kink, semi-public exhibitionism, creampie, manhandling, cumdump, rough, daddy kink, pet name (princess) a/n: first jjk fic. blond in blue dress shirt supremacy... that is all. « 758 words┇masterlist┇reblogs appreciated! »

Nanami Kento is the kind of man who fucks hard. Especially after a long day of work and his stress is pent up in his system, Nanami will use your body like the cumdump you are. He claims your body has magical healing powers that can make any headache or muscle cramp disappear.

As he enters your shared home, you, the doting girlfriend as always, greets him: “How was work, honey?” But today, Nanami is not in the mood for conversation. The moment you are close enough to be held by him, he turns you around and without a hesitation says:

“Bend over.” The low drawl and commanding tone in Nanami’s voice triggers a surge of heat towards your belly. He knows you love his directness, and he’s not afraid to make you come in your underwear right now, knowing that he can make you come over and over again until you beg to stop. Looking down, you see how his dick tents over his expensive dress pants, and the mere image of him thinking about you during work or driving home gets you excited.

And that's exactly where you are now. Nanami unbuttons his white suit jacket, tailored so firmly it hugs his trapezius muscles and arms that it needs to be removed for easier movement, easier movement to fuck you senseless without hindrance. His cuffs roll up to his elbows, exposing his forearms that tenses as he unbuckles his belt swiftly with one hand. Then Nanami shuffles his pants down, just enough to take his massive fucking cock out and taunt you with his size. You shift your pants and underwear down yourself, because you know Nanami doesn't like waiting.

Your hole is already dripping wet, expected, the insides of your cunt still remembering how Nanami was fucking your insides into the bed this morning. He can only spare fifteen minutes with you before he leaves for work, and Nanami makes sure you always cum on time. You know your boyfriend is a horndog but he always has the decency, or patience (unlike you) to eat your home cooked dinner first before trying to get you into the bedroom. But today? He can’t wait—and so can’t you.

Nanami doesn’t waste a single second not inside of you. He slams himself right in, and your cunt instantly wraps and tightens around you, remembering the shape of him, just how he likes it. His grip on your love handles is firm, unrelenting. Each thrust of him forces a choked breath out of you, whimpered mumbles of his name to go faster and faster until your pussy catches the high you’ve been so desperate to release.

“K-Kento, what if someone hears us? Or worse… sees us?” You feel a whisk of wind through your calves, and look back to find the door not closed fully.

“Good. Let’s show them how much of a filthy slut you are for taking my cock.” Nanami loosens his tie, and your pussy clenches at the sight of it.

“Fuck, if I didn’t have to go to work, I would be fucking your pussy like my toy from morning to night. Windows wide open. Let them see the slutty look on your face when my cock is inside of you."

“Please, daddy.” You're begging now, your orgasm is threatening for release but you're not quite there yet.

“Say that again. Louder. Can’t hear shit with the sound of my dick slapping into your cunt.” Nanami doesn’t stop, fully intending to keep going until he reaches his own high, and you reaching yours.

“Please daddy... I want all of you...”

“So my load this morning isn’t good enough? You want seconds? Aren't you a greedy little girl?”

He pulls on your hair hard, and the moans that came out of you is indistinguishable from pleasure or pain. An electrifying sensation rushes underneath you, and this time, you give in to the feeling and come on his dick without restraint.

“I’m coming too, princess.” Only when you finishes cumming, he then permits himself to come too. Trails of white strings shoot inside of you, filling every crevice of your insides with his sticky goodness as he lets out a low grunt of pleasure.

When he’s done, Nanami pulls up his pants, and he’s wordless again. He looks at his watch, and it's been exactly fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of sex each time, just as planned, no more and no less. Even with sex, Nanami never goes overtime.

“Can't wait for my fifteen minutes tomorrow, Kento.”

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. —yours truly, rose. idk who likes jjk in my taglist but i think u guys know tags: @valsthea @httpsuguru @emilzke @j3llyd0nut @ovaryacted © roseglazedlens — please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

#꒰✒️ rose fics ♡.꒱#nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #jjk #jjk x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk season 2 #jujutsu nanami #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk nanami #nanami

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assriels · 7 days

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lessons in touch

pairing: azriel x f!reader

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

word count: 5.8k :0

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

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

masterlist

banners by @/cafekitsune <3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was something wrong?

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

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

“Penny for your thoughts, brother?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nesta.

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

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

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

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

Check her nightstand…best kept secrets…

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

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

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

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

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

Azriel felt the back of his neck heat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

Cassian, that fucking mouthy bastard.

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

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

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

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

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

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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thelov3lybookworm · 1 month

Note

As a slut for angst today “tolerate it” has been stuck on a loop and now I am imaging an angsty fic where Az just slowly begins to forget about reader and she threatens to leave but he doesn’t take her seriously and is so utterly destroyed when he comes back home and she’s gone…

Like I feel like it’s on brand with him and his duty to his job and whatnot. Plus the lyrics are so him coded “while you were out building worlds where was I” / “took this dagger in me and removed it” LIKE HELLO???

(But I also love a good happy ending so I feel like if azzy groveled hard enough… 👀)

Tolerate it.

Summary: She is fed up.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: ehehehehehe angsttttt yummy yummyyyy

Enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Y/n laughed at Feyre's pathetic attempts at skipping the large puddle on the ground accumulated due to the rains that had Velaris freezing overnight.

Feyre failed miserably, her boots and leggings getting wet from the splash that signalled her downfall against the watery enemy of hers. But Feyre was not fazed. She simply laughed alongside Y/n, her eyes crinkling as the two of them made their way back to the river house.

It was visible already now, Y/n could even make out the grains in the wood of the door as it opened, and her brother in laws, along with her mate, spilled out.

Y/n could see from the corner of her eyes as her sister lit up at seeing her mate, her husband and the father of her child. The moment his eyes met her, she took off, her arms spread as she ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck. Rhysand did not hold back either, clutching Feyre to her chest with as much enthusiasm as she held him.

It made Y/n smile.

Y/n then glanced behind the embracing couple to her mate, the overwhelming urge to hug him too and to claim him in front of anyone watching making her start walking towards him without even realising.

Which was reckless, as the moment he realised she was walking towards him to hug him? He took a step back.

Y/n knew that he hated being affectionate in front of others, but this was cruel.

So to not get embarrassed by his rejection, Y/n turned swiftly towards Cassian, her other brother in law, who stood not too far from where Azriel did, and hugged him instead.

Cassian, Mother bless his heart, did not even question it.

He wrapped his arms around Y/n and literally lifted her off the ground, cackling when Y/n's fist made contact with his shoulder over and over again as she demanded to be put down.

Y/n had to stop herself from thinking back to that day. She did not want to relive the pain she had felt, the sadness and anger.

Y/n watched his eyes fluttering, wondering if he was dreaming. Wondering who he was dreaming about.

It definitely was not her, that was for sure.

Y/n, feeing a little sadness taking root in her heart, returned to the portrait in her hands, questioning if it would even be worth it finishing it up when he sure as hell wouldn't even acknowledge it. Or her.

Y/n glanced at the paint supplies she had placed on the coffee table next to her, having wanted to capture a moment of him letting his guard down, of him being vulnerable using her best paints, knowing he would not care.

She guessed living for as long as he had, life and the small things didn't matter as much anymore. Maybe that was why he loved to go on the missions Rhysand, Y/n's brother in law, gave him.

It probably gave him the thrill nothing else did anymore.

With Y/n's sister just having given birth to the starlight of the court, Rhys had become more and more protective, sending his brothers and anyone and everyone at his disposal to check and report about every trivial thing that made his primal mate and father side get protective.

Slowly, Y/n reached for the brush that rested in the cup half filled with coloured water, deciding to finish the half done portrait. If he did not care... she did not now what she would do then, but she did know she was tired of being tolerated by him.

But what could she even do? It was not like she could just up and leave.

Y/n blinked.

Or... could she?

Y/n shook her head, as if to dislodge the though, and with a sigh, she let herself get lost in the soft skill of painting her sister had taught her long ago, when staying up and huddling under worn blankets was the only thing bringing any warmth.

Trying not to think about the fact that the last time she remembered him caring for her, genuinely caring for her, was only when the two had been in their early stages of relation ship and the mating bond was a very new experience to a newly made fae Y/n, she continued using the soft and strong, long and short strokes to finish up her latest masterpiece.

Of course, Y/n never would call herself a creator of masterpieces, but any and all art that included her perfect mate was destined to be a masterpiece.

Time lost its meaning, and all that mattered was capturing the perfect angle for his eyes, nose, lips, shoulder.

Nothing existed but Y/n, her art, and her muse.

Nothing existed but the soft rise and fall of his back as he lay sprawled on his stomach, the effortless way his wings draped across the whole bed, taking up space three wingless fae could have slept in.

Where Y/n would have slept in, on days when everything had been filled with stars and dreams, wrapped under his warm wing like it were a living blanket.

When he pretended he was nothing, absolutely nothing but her mate. Her husband. Not a spymaster, not a shadowsinger, not a brother. Just her mate, her lover.

Those days were far gone now.

•○🌑○•

Despite the fact that she knew he would most definitely not care, Y/n was excited.

And that was downplaying what she felt.

The wait was killing her, the amount of adrenaline in her bloodstream making her want to jump around to get rid of the energy that made her shiver, her limbs going cold and warm at the same time. She had to push her fists together and shove them between her thighs to keep them from shaking, which did not help at all.

So Y/n waited, her body clenched in anticipation as she stared at the doorway that led into the living room, a big grin on her face.

She glanced once at the sketchpad in front of her on the table, admiring her artwork for a moment.

She never liked whatever she made, always feeling like it lacked something. So for her to be excited to show off her art to her mate was a huge indication to how much she loved the portrait.

The familiar scuff of worn boots drew Y/n's attention, and she shot to her feet, pressing her fists to the back of her thighs.

It had become a habit of Azriel's, to purposefully make some noise before he stepped in view so as not to startle her with his appearance.

The action melted Y/n's heart every single time.

He stepped into view, as ethereal as the day Y/n had first seen him as a human, just as beautiful as he had looked that day as he tried to get comfortable on the small chair in the manor on the other side of the wall, just as loveable as that day when she had ended up losing her heart to the low born fae that should have intimated her.

He was fumbling with his armor, making sure it was all secured properly before he left for whatever mission Rhys assigned him for that day.

He glanced up just as he walked past Y/n to the kitchen counter, a small smile gracing his face before his attention was again diverted.

Y/n tried not to deflate at his lack of enthusiasm.

"Good morning love. Look-"

"Good morning Y/n." He cut her off, his voice void of emotions, as if he was tired of saying the same thing every morning and wanted to get it over with. He didn't even glance at Y/n as he said it, and Y/n pretended not to notice that he used her name instead of whatever endearing name he would have picked before.

"I will be on a scouting trip to Illyria, and after I have a meeting and dinner scheduled with Rhys and Cass, so I will be late coming home. Don't wait up."

Y/n's smile faded. "Don't wait up or stay out of my way?"

Azriel froze. "What?"

Y/n released a humourless laugh. "Nothing. Go have fun."

Azriel turned, giving her a hard look. "You know I would rather stay at home with you."

Doubtful.

Y/n so badly wanted to say it to his face, but she did not want to fight with him so early in the morning, so she sighed, smiled and nodded.

He started walking towards the door, and despite her anger, Y/n walked forward to kiss his cheek.

She did not miss how he recoiled.

Y/n masked the hurt before he could see it, and he gave her an awkward smile before he maneuvered to walk around her, careful not to brush against her.

Y/n watched him walk away, staring hard at the door even long after he'd left.

She then glanced at the portrait she had abandoned on the table, and, her heart hardening, turned away.

She was tired of having her love be tolerated, and she would not have it be that way anymore.

Either he accept her love the way it was, loud and clear, or he go find someone else.

And so, she turned, walked up the stairs to the bedchambers she shared with Azriel, and began to turn it back into just his bedchambers.

She would no longer be tolerated only because some godly entity thought she and him would make great, powerful kids and tied them together with a string.

She deserved to be cherished.

•○🌑○•

Part 2

Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @eve175

Azriel Taglist: @darthdumbasss @foreverrandomwritings @azrielsmate3 @celestialend

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel fic #acotar #acotar fandom #acotar fanfic #acotar fluff #acotar series #acotar writing #mating bond #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #acotar headcanon #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel x you

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sillymercury · 1 month

Text

“What Are You Doing?”

“I… Was Told There Was an Emergency...”

AzrielxReader

Warnings: none other than the lack of proof reading :p

Word count: 5.5k

(meant to be a blurb lol ig idk how to do that)

Summary: Azriel’s shadows have decided that they found someone far more interesting to listen to.

Thank you @kayjayjwrites for this ask, I’ve had a lot of fun writing it. Sorry it came a little later than I said it would but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

A yawn escaped Azriel as he stared down the papers on his desk. He was behind, three missions he put off documenting. He honestly wouldn’t have done it if Rhys wasn’t hounding him saying he wasn’t getting another job until he was caught up.

He didn’t hate his job, he didn’t particularly love it but he took pride in what he did for his court. What he did hate was the bureaucratic end of things, logging his missions in excruciating detail so they can be stored away on the off chance it might need revisited.

He had caught himself nodding off multiple times. The words would blur and his blinks would get slower and slower until his head hit the desk. His shadows, the pestering presence they were, were quick to wake him up.

Finish, finish this,

Keep working,

Sleep after.

At this point it was sheer frustration keeping him awake, weren’t his shadows meant to bend towards his will? The thought of snuffing out the fae light and climbing into bed with his hands over his ears was becoming more and more enticing as the night droned on. Azriels eyes began to close for the umpteenth time and just when he thought his shadows would give up they began swirling around him frantically. He almost groaned at their dramatics until their whispering bordered screaming.

Get up,

Quickly,

Y/n needs you,

Hurry, hurry.

The shadows all spoke over each other and their urgency had Azriel standing up so quick his chair hit the floor. His heart moved as frantically as his shadows at the thought of you. The thought of you hurt, the thought of you in danger, the thought of you scared and alone and needing him.

His feet matched the frenzy as they carried him to the shelf that held the truth teller, his shaking hands sheathed it. Azriel was a composed man, only cracking under severity; and you… you were severe. You had a way of moving him out of his dark safe corner and into the blinding light of day.

Your eyes could move him to tears, your body would make his hands shake, your laugh kicked open every door he used to keep others out. You were a parasite; infecting every part of him and making it your own.

Azriel was ready to punch a hole through his wall and fly around Prythian raining hellfire until he found you and made you safe again. Where? He thought, where is she?

Her house, his shadows answered dutifully before enveloping him and carrying him there. He was ready, ready to fight off whoever-whatever- was hurting you. Whether the demons were mental or corporeal, he would fight to his last breath. You were everything, everything he wanted, needed, everything he prayed for. You just didn’t know it yet, it hadn’t snapped for you. He didn’t care though, he would spend the next 500 years proving his devotion even if you never felt it.

Within seconds his shadows had carried him through space, into your living room. The scent of you was everywhere, gentle overtaking his olfactory sense and filling him with fierce determination.

“Y/n!” The called out as he surveyed the room, everything looked normal, well, for you. Granted things were strewn about, out of order, and placed haphazardly; but not in a way that was alarming.

“Y/n,” he called again and was met with silence, he moved through your house swiftly and silently. He kept his eyes peeled for any sign of you.

Bedroom, his shadows told him. At the end of the hall he pushed open the lightly cracked door and slipped into your room. The room held no sight of you, just thick with your scent. The only noise was light shuffling from your adjourned bathroom. He took a silent step towards the door and in that moment you came out. He froze.

You were fine, you were more than fine. His wide eyes met yours and he tried his best to keep them there but they seemed to have a mind of their own. They trailed to your wet hair that was dripping onto your shoulders. His pesky eyes followed the water from your bare shoulder, to the contour of your breast, to your exposed tummy, around its pretty jewelry, down your hips, before disappearing behind your thighs. Your shocked expression matched his as you stood in only a bra and underwear, clearly fresh out of the shower. He felt the heat climb his face, he wanted to run, hide, avoid any implications. But for some unholy reason he stood, petrified, staring at you half naked-absolutely divine- body.

“What are you doing?” You asked once you finally got over the initial shock of seeing him in your room. Anyone else would’ve gotten a more visceral reaction but this was Az, the only one you wanted to see you like this. You also didn’t mind the way his eyes tracked every curve and dip of your body. You bit your lip to hide your smirk and that snapped his eyes back to your face.

“I… was told there was an emergency…” he shifted on his feet as his eyes darted back and forth from your body to your face.

You bit back your laugh, the feared shadowsinger, spymaster of the night was red faced and nervous. Definitely a sight to behold. “Who told you that?” You crossed your arms under your chest, lightly pushing up the twins. Something he didn’t miss, and you didn’t miss the deeper red his face took. His mouth opened and closed like a fish and he seemed to have lost whatever small grip was keeping his shadows in place. They slithered across the floor before circling up your legs, over your bum, around your hips and waist. You giggled at the sensation, seemingly exciting by the shadows as they made their way up, examining the lace that covered your breast. Their boldness elicited a gasp, one that snapped Azriel out of his trance.

“I am so sorry- I don’t- I should go,” his words were quick as he fumbled over himself. He dragged the shadows away and before you could speak, tell him to stay, he was gone and so were his shadows.

You couldn’t help but laugh, a full belly laugh as you walked towards your bed with a little extra pep. The only proof of the encounter being the goosebumps on your skin and the light smell of his arousal in your room.

Azriel materialized in his room and stood there for- he doesn’t know how long he stood there. Trying to come to terms with what he saw, what you saw he saw, and how horrible his shadows had behaved. “What… was that?” He whispered into the darkness of his room, still frozen in place. He was horrified, completely embarrassed, and confused. His shadows said you needed him, led him there for seemingly no reason. His shadows hadn’t defied him since he was a child, scared of his own power.

The shadows didn’t answer him, just danced around seemingly pleased with themselves. He wanted to go back and apologize but he was too mortified, convinced he wouldn’t be able to face you for a hundred years. He crawled under his covers and cursed his shadows, not even brave enough to deal with the tightness that grew in his pants.

It was hot, Velaris was seemingly boiling. That didn’t slow down the Illyrians, rain or shine they would train. Azriel had taken off his shirt and the sweat flowed through the contours of his muscles, covering his body in a sticky dew. He had just finished sparring with Cass and was wiping the sweat from his brow when his shadows spoke.

Emergency,

Something’s wrong at the south pond,

Get there quickly,

“Cass!” He hollered to his brother, as he grabbed a two swords. He threw one to Cass who caught it coolly. “We’re needed,”. Was all he offered before taking to the skies. Cass followed closely behind as they swooped from the house of wind towards the small forest that was on the south side of Velaris. The boys were already warmed up, ready to face whatever emergency faced them. They circled the sky around the pond and didn’t see any immediate threat, it just looked like some fae had met up for a swim.

Cass landed first and Azriel was right behind him. They surveyed the scene and just as they saw in the sky; nothing was wrong. The only thing they saw were females, everywhere.

“Alright brother,” Cass clapped Azriel on the back with a shit-eating grin. “Not what I expected but you’re right, they do need us.” He tossed his sword on the ground and started making his way to the bank, at least three females came to greet him; he engaged happily.

Azriel wasn’t yet convinced. Still dragging his eyes all across the domain, trying to spot what called his shadows here. His keen eyes took in everything, every person, until they landed on you.

Walking out of the water you looked like a fae from those raunchy magazines Cass used to steal as a boy. An all too small bikini clung to your wet body as you made your way out of the water, toward him. Three tiny pink triangles covered the important parts but the rest was just string, leaving nearly your whole body one display. He watched your hips sway, your wet hair clinging to your face and shoulders, the glittering belly ring, and the small smirk on your face as you too looked him up and down.

“You’re not going to use that are you?” You stopped in front of him, referencing to the sword he gripped with all his strength. He watched as you flipped your hair to one side and began ringing it out. The urge to kiss the sensitive spot between your neck was so intense his lips were quivering.

“No I…” he once again was at a loss for words, “I just brought it.” Lame. He was so lame he wanted to die.

You just giggled, the sound like a cool wave over his hot body. You reached over and gently wrapped your hands around his, pulling it from his hands and discarding it with Cassian’s. His eyes were trained on your face the entire time, you weren’t put off by his scars. Your face wasn’t marred with disgust or pity, just blissful normalcy.

You smiled up at him, “Are you going to join us?” He just nodded, not even considering no as an option. Cass already discarded his pants and boots and was loudly entertaining most of the ladies. But Azriels eyes were trained on your back… side, as he followed you to the water like a puppy. It wasn’t until his shoes were sopping wet at the bank that he realized he should probably strip as well.

When he was down to only his boxers and he tossed his pants and boots back to safety. The way you shamelessly admired him gave him his confidence back.

The two of you spent hours, swimming circles around each other, splashing, pushing the other under. He would lift you high out of the water so you could do flips back in. He would put you on his shoulders so you could take turns playing chicken with whatever female climbed onto his brother; he was proud to say you won every time. He followed you all the way to the deep end and despite his distaste for swimming he didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world as you clung to him, telling stories of your childhood in this exact watering hole. He could’ve stayed in the water forever, content to grow wrinkles all over if it meant you would stay close to him.

When the sun had threatened to leave the sky was when you had decided to get out. Your friends were going to a diner to finish of the night with milkshakes and gossip, you offered and invitation and despite being willing to follow you wherever you asked he had to decline. Rhys had tried to contact him multiple times, all of which he ignored. Based on the aggravated tone, Cass was doing the same. He knew staying away any longer would only cause an angry high lord scaling the streets in search of them.

Cass begrudgingly followed his lead, after kissing more than an appropriate amount of females on the cheek, bidding them all goodnight with the promise of seeing them again.

The boys flew home, landing in front of the town house. Before facing the wrath of their in the dark brother Cassian stopped in front of Azriel and grabbed both of his shoulders. With a wide smile he leaned in and placed a sloppy kiss on his cheek, before he could react Cass had kissed the other one.

“I love you brother,” he said with so much sincerity Az rolled his eyes. “I’ll handle business with you any day,” Cass pulled him into a bone crushing hug that Azriel had to use all of his force to get out of. He wiped the wet spots on his cheeks before shaking his head. He pushed past his babbling brother and made his way to the front door. Cass walked in with an arrogant swagger, one that stayed with him for the next week and a half.

The frustration didn’t show on Azriels face, nothing showed on Azriels face, as he trailed diligently behind Mor. Yet another shopping spree he was dragged into with the role of being ‘designated bag carrier.’ He never complained even though he’d rather be doing anything else right now, he didn’t show it. Even though he knew Mor knew that, and even though Mor knew that he knew that she knew that.

“Thank you again Azriel, I swear I’m almost done.” He nodded along, knowing that she was almost done 2 hours ago.

It seemed everyone in the city was out shopping, the streets of the retail sector were jam packed. It was likely that most people were, with a new season approaching all of the soon to be out-of-season styles were on sale. Something that motivated Mor, giving her a much needed excuse for retail therapy.

Azriel kept his wings tucked in tight as he shimmied through bodies crowding the cobble stone. “Okay so we’ll stop at Loraine’s, she has the best Jewelry. Then we’ll have to hit up that new little boutique, hopefully all of the good shoes aren’t gone already. Oh! And we absolutely have to visit Anderson on the end of the block, he’ll kill me if I don’t come check out his sun dresses. He always holds the red ones back for me. Honestly my closet…” Mor continued to ramble on about each and every store that demanded she visit but Azriel tuned it out. Leaving behind the notion of soon as the math of how long he would be out continued to produce a higher and higher number.

Without trying to think about it, he followed Mor into the little jewelry shop that she just spoke about. The shelves were covered in glittering jewels that sat on display behind glass. Nothing caught his interest, he didn’t care for flashy add ons, so he just made his way to one of the plush chairs in the corner. He set the plethora of bags down as he slunk back, enjoying a moment of rest as he knew Mor would be taking her time. His eyes closed but his reaction was short lived when his shadows began of informing him of a situation.

Across the street,

Someone’s not supposed to be here,

Go quickly.

He cracked an eye open and glanced out the window. The streets looked normal enough and he couldn’t hear any commotion over the bustling. Someone’s not supposed to be here? He would have been notified earlier if anyone got through the Velarian wards. He should’ve been notified earlier. He stood up slowly, assessing the street. Just because everything looked normal doesn’t mean it was.

He abandoned Mor’s bags and moved towards the door, when he pushed it open he never stepped out. Instead a shadow slipped across the ground, going unnoticed on the busy street.

He slid under the crack of the door and after clocking his surroundings he determined he was in a woman’s nightwear store. There were night gowns and matching pj’s covering mannequins and racks in the front.

Back,

Behind the curtain.

His shadows informed him of the intruders location and he slid in the corner where the wall met the floor, making his way to the back. The store was relatively empty, only a few patrons; a couple, an older fae, and a young male that looked at the stock like a critic.

Slipping behind the curtain that separated the front from the back he was faced with three small dressing rooms. He materialized and placed his hand on the truth teller that rested on his upper thigh. It was quiet back here, the only shuffling came from one of the dressing rooms. He heard a click and a voice; your voice.

“Mav!” You called out as you stepped out of one of the rooms. He moved, trying to run, trying to get out of there. Realization of the stunt his shadows had once again pulled, dawned on him but it was too late.

“Az?” You questioned. The nickname had him stopping before he could escape sight. His heart beat like a war dum against his chest and he felt his hand dampen on the curtain he was holding. For a moment he contemplated winnowing away, saving the embarrassment for another day.

His turn was slow and painful, when his back was against the curtain he looked down and regretted not running. You were clad in a lace nightgown that barley covered the curve of your bottom. The top was push up, covered in shined lace while the bottom was layers of baby pink sheer material. If he looked closely he could see the diamond jewelry on your belly button and your matching shiney underwear shining through. He attempted to swallow the lump that was sitting in the middle of his throat but it didn’t budge so all he managed was a straggled gasp.

A devilish smirk, the one that tempted his knees, took control of your lips. You leaned against the stall, popping your hip out with a hand resting lazily on top. You tilted your head and looked him up and down, “Don’t tell me there’s another emergency.”

His eyes almost jumped out of his head and pink brushed from his neck, to his ears, and all across his face. You knew, of course you knew, you were the one he was barging in on. He tried to speak but that was impossible, seeing you in something so intimate, something he’d only dreamed of seeing you in, he could only shake his head back and forth.

“Okay so I also found that in this pretty blue-oh!” The young male from earlier had pushed through the curtain and was standing rigid as he looked between you and Az. He was only stuck for a few seconds before a smile that matched yours in mischief graced his face. “What do you think shadowsinger?”

His sultry voice took Azriel back, and the heat in his face doubled, “I- it’s,” he cleared his throat as he looked at the tiny blue dress. Cobalt blue, it was the same hue of his siphons. The thought of seeing you in that…

“It’s beautiful,” you finished for him. You pushed off the stall and moseyed over, closer to Az’s still frozen stature. “I absolutely love this color!” You took the thin fabric in delicate hands, feeling the material. “I’ll put it on,” you took the small thing from your friend before looking Az directly in the eye. You just smiled before walking back into the changing closet.

Azriel let out a low breath before bringing his hands up to drag the course of his face. This had to stop happening.

A snicker came from next to him and he looked over to, Mav, who had his arms crossed over his chest and a knowing glint in his eye. Az briefly wondered if you had told your friend about his little appearing act. The way Mav was looking at him, he’s sure you did. “You gonna stay for the final result?”

Yes, yes, yes! His shadows chanted in his ear and he shook his head roughly to keep them out of his ear.

“No, I gotta- busy!” He practically ripped the curtain with the force he pulled it open. He cleared the store in a few long strides before pushing himself free. In his daze he ended up colliding with a smaller frame.

“Az!” Mor yelled, straightening the dress he rumpled. “What are you-“ he eyes narrowed before glancing behind him, Jaim’s Nightwear was painted in delicate cursive on the windows. “What the hell were you doing?”

Az glanced once back at the shop before at Mor, “Embarrassing myself apparently.”

Mor clocked his flush demeanor before looking back at the window. She squinted her eyes again, tilting her head. She pondered doing some shopping at Jaim’s and Azriel’s speedy ‘no!’ only intrigued her more. She moved to step around him but Azriel’s hands clapped on her shoulder, turning her around and directing her back to the jewelry store across the street.

A low hum left the shadowsinger as he climbed up the ramp of the library. He scanned the isles looking for ‘Fiction- Rac.’

He had attended Nesta’s monthly book club with the priestesses, a guilty pleasure only the attendees knew of. He had offered to carry the books back to their rightful spot, an offer he was now regretting. The isle that held the thick fiction books had evaded him, and he had been walking back and forth for a half an hour now. A few priestesses had offered their help but he insisted they return to their work, that he could do it himself.

He decided to try the ‘Rab’ isle, keeping his wings tucked as his presence filled the narrow space. He almost cursed, debating throwing the books on a rack and letting someone else deal with it. His eye had just caught the beginning of ‘Rac’ when his attention was diverted.

You are needed,

Go now,

He ignored the shadows, pushing on towards his destination. He wasn’t about to fall into their trap again, he didn’t think he could handle another awkward encounter.

She needs help,

She needs you.

They insisted but Az just shook his head, looking for the correct author. “I’m not doing this again,” he whispered back. His luck she’d probably be in that little blue get-up and she’d have to clean up the puddle he’d melt into.

Go now!

Or regret it!

She will get hurt!

He groaned as he leaned his forehead against the cool self. The thought of you being hurt, even though he doubted you were, trumped his need to protect his ego. With his shadows whispering in his ear he had to see you were safe, and when you inevitably were he would come back and finish his job.

“Fine, but if she’s in her underwear again-“ the shadows cut him of chanting go, go, go! “Okay,” he was defeated, a slave to the torture his shadows were hell bent on putting him through. “Where is she?”

Home,

Her house.

“Good gods- I’m winnowing outside and if she’s half naked I swear I’m never listening to-“ he was cut off again by his shadows. This time it wasn’t a whisper, the seemed to bellow, angry at his reluctance.

Now!

With the urgency from his shadows he dropped the books on the floor, leaving them for whichever poor priestess found them first. After moving through space in the blink of an eye he landed on your front porch. He lifted his hand to knock, he wasn’t going to barge in and show up in the middle of your room uninvited- again.

Before his fist could connect with the door the sound of you screaming had him stumbling back. “Get out!” Followed by breaking glass. Your voice was shrill and panicked and it lit a protective fire inside of him.

He blinked again and he was inside your living room. Shadows were let loose across the space, crawling from his body to every corner of the room. You were there and so was a clearly unwanted presence. You were pressed against your mantle, gripping a vase like a weapon while the male staggered a few feet in front of you. He didn’t need his shadows to inform him about the alcohol that reeked from the man. His blood boiled and metaphorical claws were bared, he was going to kill the male that intruded on your space.

“Crazy bitch! Where’d you go?” The man slurred out as he waved his hands wildly in front of him; desperate to clear the opaque mist and find his target.

The name you didn’t deserve to be called had snapped Azriel into action, like a tensed spring he shot in front of the man. “I’m right here,” he whispered, mere inches from the drunk. The man made a shocked sound, startled by the new voice and its proximity. The man threw a pathetic punch, a low chuckle left Az’s lips as he caught the fist.

With a skilled spin he was behind the man, pressing his wrist between his shoulder blades in an uncomfortable contortion.

A straggled scream left his throat and Azriel cleared his shadows, wanting a proper look at who he was dealing with. The male was nothing special, skinny and pale with dull brown hair. His blue eyes looked hollow and glassy and the stench of alcohol absolutely assaulted Azriel’s senses at the proximity.

“You’d be wise not to try that again,” Azriel’s dark voice met the shell of the man’s ear. His eyes flickered up to you, wide eyed watching the scene play out. “What are you doing here?”

“Let me go! I just want to talk to her!” Azriel pressed his wrist higher and the male made a noice between a grunt and a scream. “Please!”

Tightening the grip on his wrist Azriel let out a low growl, this male was already too close, Azriel was never going to give him a chance to get closer. “I don’t think she wants to speak to you,” his low voice was eerily calm, steady as he leaned down to speak in the stranger’s ear. “Do you, Y/n?” His eyes moved back to you and watched as you viciously shook your head back and forth. “Well,” the grin in his voice was audible, “that settles that.”

Azriel gave the man a hard shove to which his shadows caught him, they carried him off to somewhere Azriel could deal him later. His eyes scanned the room once more, checking for any lingering danger, any hint of another threat. His shadows scowered the rest of the house, closing and locking any window that could be used as an entry point.

“Az,” you breathed before dropping the vase. The tough glass didn’t shatter, instead it rolled away while you ran. Within seconds your arms were around his neck with your face buried in his chest. He relished in your closeness, arms circling your waist with his nose finding your shoulder. A greedy breath reminded him you were safe, in his arms where no bastard would touch or even talk to you unwarranted. “I’m so glad that worked, I was worried that it wouldn’t, that I pushed to hard with it when you took awhile to get here but-“

“Wait what? What’re you talking about?” He pulled back to look down at you. Confusion had knitted his brows together and pushed his head onto an axis.

“Oh- I well… nothing,” you pulled back and turned away, red dusting your cheeks as your eyes fought to hide from him. Usually he was the flustered one, looking like boy whose hand had been caught in a cookie jar. But the roles were now reversed, you looked like you were dodging trouble of your own creation.

Azriel grabbed your wrist, delicately, turning you around to face him. He caught your chin in his other hand and angled your head to face him, “What did you want to work?”

You turned your eyes down but he just lifted your chin higher, your pink cheeks turned positively rosey and you shook your head. “Fine,” you breathed before pulling away from him completely. He watched as you moved around the glass you had previously thrown and made your way to the couch. “Well,” you started, drawing lines in your the cushion to keep from looking at him, “remember when we met? At that monster exchange?”

He nodded, “Of course.” He would never forget, catching a dove in an underground tavern full of monsters and the beats they aimed to sell. He had been tracking the traveling convention all across the night court, attempting to find who was running the trade. It was a highly illegal exchange and when he’d found you, you had begged to not be arrested, claiming curiosity brought you there. He let you go, told you to run while he dealt with the others.

“Well when I got home I noticed I had a little friend,” she held her hand out and to Azriel’s surprise, a shadow fell into her hand. It had danced out of its hiding spot in your hair and looped around your fingers, stuck to you like it was your own to wield. He just stared, mouth agape, to caught in his own shock to respond. “I started talking to it, they’re great listeners.” A giggle fell from your lips as you wiggled your fingers and the shadow weaved and bobbed through your digits. “And for some reason whenever I spoke of you, of wanting to see you, you would show up.”

You looked up tentatively, worried to see an angry Azriel. Instead you were faced with pure shock, he looked so lost so you felt the need to go on.

“I didn’t know it would tell you to come, not originally. Then after that first night, your shadows told you it was an emergency and I started taking advantage of that. Telling it to fetch you so I could see you again.” You looked back down, clearly ashamed of your admission. You couldn’t see the smirk that was growing on Azriel’s lips. “I know you’re busy, and-and it’s unfair to pull you away from your work like that. I shouldn’t have used your own shadow against you- gods- I’m so sorry. I’ll never-“

Your words were caught off by a laugh, a loud belly laugh. Azriel was practically doubled over. The realization had his face crinkled and his hands gripping his stomach as he gasped for air. You laughed nervously, adding him, “Your not mad?”

He stood up, still laughing but controlling it. His dimples were on full display and you melted a little, feeling ease wash over you.

“No, no I’m not mad,” he moved for the couch, “I’m glad I finally found out why my shadows are so willing to lie to me. It’s because they’re in kahoots with you.” He sat down and took your hand, your full smile matched his, “Never apologize for wanting to see me, I’ll come whenever you call.”

You blushed and nodded, laughing some more yourself. You stuck out the hand that held his shadow, “Here. You can have this back.”

He just shook his head with a smile, pushing your hand back. “Keep it, you can use it to get ahold of me.”

You looked back to him, the look on his face was one of pure ease, happiness and bliss, you loved to see it. You two sat there smiling at each other like idiots when you felt a tug on your heart. The tug got stronger and stronger until it snapped. With a gasp you threw your hand over your heart, as if the bond was tangible, something you could grab with your hands.

“It’s you,” you whisper leaning in slightly.

“And it’s you,” he whispered back after following you in.

You felt a tug on the bond, like he was pulling you towards him, you tugged back with a smile. You had always wanted to find your mate and you wouldn’t admit it just yet but you had wanted it to be Azriel since you met him underground.

You threw your head back, it was your turn to belly laugh. “Good gods! No wonder you always came running!”

He narrowed his eyes and let out a playful growl before pulling you into his arms. You giggled and wrapped your arms around him, looking at him in his eyes. “I’m glad it’s you,” was all you said before offering him a peck on the lips.

He beamed back, “I’m also glad it’s you.” He pulled you down for another kiss which you returned passionately.

“Soo..” you drawled pulling back, “Would you like to see that little blue number?” He responded with a low growl and nip at your ear. You laughed at his answer before jumping off the couch, you grabbed his hand and he happily let you drag him to your room.

A/N: My first request🥰🥰🥰 this was so fun, literally send more I live live live for them. I rlly hope my requester enjoyed this 🥲

Also I’m still working on ‘I’m Not Crazy, She is!’ Pt. 2 but it’s gonna be a long one so give me some time with that🙏🏽

As always if you made it this far I LOVE YOUUU<3<3 thank you so much for reading yall I love doing these.

Masterlist

Tag list: @gorlillaglue25

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metacrisisdoctor · 10 months

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TENTOOROSE APPRECIATION MONTH 2023

“A man is the sum of his memories, you know. A Time Lord even more so.”

#dwedit #dwgif #doctor who #dw #timepetals #doctor x rose #ten x rose #tentoo x rose #tenrose #tentoorose #tenth doctor #tentoo #metacrisis doctor #rose tyler #usertom #usernani #userlanie #usertix #ok i'm focusing on fic now if u see me most more gifs come beat me up!

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thehighladywrites · 2 months

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ACOTAR MEN X READER, BANNING THEM FROM INTIMACY

☀︎ — summary: you let them know they’re not allowed to touch you in any way, shape or form. How do they react!

☀︎ — warnings: 18+, nsfw, az being a slut as per usual, cassian being yummy, touchy needy fae males, slight dumbification in lucien’s

☀︎ — amara’s note: lucien was my fav one to write omgggg, also i hope u sluts enjoy😈😈😈😈 also enjoy while i work with tutor az👀👀

RHYSAND

“You’re putting me on a ban? You can’t be serious.”

“Nuh-uh Rhys, you flirted with that girl so have fun by yourself for the unforseeable future.”

Rhysand didn’t actually flirt with anyone, he was being his usual self and the way the girl was leaning towards him made you angry so you just blamed him instead

He gets through the first few days calmly although he is mildy irritated. Especially when Cassian and Azriel tease him about it.

“So no sexy time for you Rhysie, that must suck,” Cassian says as he ties his hair back.

“Well, not really much sucking these days, right?” Azriel snickers, getting ready for the inevitable fight

Rhysand takes out his frustration on them for their smart little comments.

Rhysand has quite a high libido so that man usually fucks you good atleast once a day even when you’re both busy.

“Darling, please forgive me. I will never do it again. Tell me what I can do to earn your forgiveness.”

He begs and begs because he’s going a bit crazy

In the end, it takes him only three days for you to forgive him and lift the ban. The man is charming and seduces you into dropping the ban

The second you drop the ban, he grabs your waist, throws you over his shoulder and winnows to the cabin where he fucks you for a week straight.

“That oughta put that nasty idea out of your head forever” he says, patting your head while smiling at your ruined self. Mascara running, laboured breathing, and a pounding heart is your only answer

Yeah this man wrecks you and you never pull this stunt again…

YUMMM MHE IS SO DELICIOUS 👹👹👹👹

ERIS

“You may not touch me or have sex with me in any way until I say you can.”

He narrows his eyes as he slightly smiles when you announce a ban on all intimate activities for the unforseeable future.

“Is that so?”

You cross your arm on your chest, lifting your chin in defiance.

“Yes, that’s right. Since you want to entertain Nesta Archeron, you may not be in my vicinity.”

You are being waaaaaay too dramatic. He didn’t even spare her a single glance until you pointed to her. Nothing at all happened, I mean the male didn’t even know she was at the ball until you told him.

Nesta walked up and was a bit too close to him and even though Eris moved to your side, giving her an unamused look, you were still irritated

And since you couldn’t take it out on her, you take it out on Eris.

But Eris knows what you’re doing, he knows how extremely dramatic you are being, so he just lets you cool off, let’s you huff and puff around the house

You are a mess. An absolute mess

You find yourself longing for Eris's touch, even just a simple headpat from him would send you into cardiac arrest.

The fact that you lasted an entire week is insane bc you’re both touching each other in some way all the time

When you’re lounging; his head rests on your chest, and you lovingly massage his scalp, running your fingers through his hair. Alternatively, he pulls you closer to his body under a warm blanket, nestled in his neck, while he warms his hands for you, acting as your personal heater.

When you’re in public; he always has a hand on your lower back, waist or you walk hand in hand. You also wrap your hands around his biceps, caressing the arm when you feel tired

When you’re in a meeting; your hands naturally seek each other under the table. Whenever one of you gets heated or irritated, the other soothes them by rubbing their thumb on the back of their hand, offering quiet support.

After a week of torture you finally breakdown in his office, storming in and placing your palms on his wooden desk. He looks up at your curiously, an eyebrow raised.

“Okay, I can’t do this anymore, please touch me, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Eris is just as desperate as you are but he wants to drag this out just a tiny bit more before giving in

“Interesting. You initiated this ban, yet you’re the one who can’t follow through? You were fine without me for a whole week, I think you’ll manage another one.”

Your jaw drops in disbelief. Another week? No, you’d rather die.

“I think not. I will beg if I have to. Touch me, please. I will probably die if I go another week without you.”

He leans back in his chair, puts his arms behind his head as his arms bulge. One of your biggest weaknesses

“Normally, I’d make you beg but I missed you aswell. Come here.”

You damn near cry in relief when you sit in his lap and nestle in his arms. His warm hands rub your back and thighs, making you impossibly more relaxed

“This was one of the dumbest things I have ever done. Never again.” You whine against his neck, kissing it over and over again.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he says, emotional as he press a kiss to your head

AZRIEL

“Okay.”

That is all he says when you tell him your banning him from touching you. Honestly, you thought he’d have a bigger reaction so you start getting second thoughts.

But you thug it out bc you still want to prove a point even though he looks super unbothered

In reality, Azriel is panicking on the inside

Although he knows he can physically withstand sex, it’s the love and intimacy he misses the most

So he does the one thing he knows you won’t resist

He sluts around the house

Okay, he walks around shirtless or with super tight black shirts thst highlight years and years of working out

Azriel knows you’re weak for his muscles and body so flaunting it around is step one of his plan.

Step two of his plan draws him extremely close to you, mere inches away. He leans in as you speak, exploiting yet another weakness.

He wears delicious colognes that make your eyes flutter. He wears chains around his neck and leans over you.

Azriel’s final and ultimate slut move is waking up in the morning, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as he speaks. It's all it takes for you to cave in to his charms.

You find yourself the one begging for his touch, unable to resist the longing for his embrace. You babble about never wanting to go so long without feeling his presence again.

CASSIAN

Cassian’s love language is most definitely touch so when you tell him that he is banned from here on out, he freezes.

Like it doesn’t make any sense, he actually can’t grasp the concept.

“What does that even mean? What do you mean I can’t touch you?”

Tha man is flabbergasted

He will follow you around, apologizing for his behavior over and over. You’ve already forgiven him since it was a minor thing but he doesn’t know that

Cassian starts carrying a pillow with him, imagining it is you. He craves touch, and if it's from a damn pillow, he'll gladly take it

He pouts as you try to surpress a smile at his expression. He’ll give you puppy eyes in hopes of you dropping the annoying ban

Eventually, Cassian levels up and becomes extra touchy with the inner circle instead, seeking any physical touch

A confused Azriel gets extra pats on the shoulder, but Cassian's hand lingers, staying put longer than usual, leaving Azriel puzzled by the sudden change in his behavior.

An amused Rhysand receives more hugs, but Cassian's hugs linger, holding him close as if imagining you there for a moment.

Obviously, nothing compares to you, and the whole situation only makes Cassian more irritated.

No sex is just unbearable. Jerking off isn’t fun at all and he can count on one hand how many times he had to use his hands since you got together

After only one and a half day you start to miss his touches and get jealous that your friends is getting his warm touches instead.

You’re also very horny and since you and cassian have a VERY active sex life, it makes a lotta sense. This male usually fucks you 1-2 times everyday, and I mean EVERY day

Seriously not a day goes by without some action, whether it be fingering, bjs, handjobs, nipple play, him eating you out, 69 just anything really

When you finally, after 1,5 excruciating days let him touch you, he smiles and thank the Mother then drags you to your bedroom

Y’all don’t come out for a solid 2-3 business days

Ever since the ban, he is stuck to you like glue fr

LUCIEN

Lucien is very calm for someone who isn’t allowed to touch his mate

“You’re banning me from touching you? That’s really cute,” Lucien remarks casually, a hint of amusement in his tone as he takes a sip of his peppermint tea.

You furrow your brows, pouting. “I'm not joking, Lucien. If you touch me, I'll scream,” you assert firmly, crossing your arms over your chest. With lifted chin and proud gaze, you stand your ground, making your new and temporary boundaries clear.

Lucien chuckles softly. “Yeah? You’ll scream? Love, you scream real nice for me when I touch you anyway, so what's really new?” he teases, getting closer to you.

“I mean, do you really want me to not touch you?” Lucien asks, his voice low as he inches closer and closer until your faces are mere inches apart.

He gets so close, his warmth leaving you breathless. His soft, plump lips barely brush against yours, the touch so light it's almost not there.

“Tell me, my sweet, perfect girl,” he murmurs, his breath mingling with yours, “who put this idea in your head?”

You are barely functioning, your words stuck in your throat as you struggle to come up with a response.

“I know you're too out of it to properly respond to me right now, and it's okay,” Lucien says gently, his tone teasing. “I guess using your brain is a tough task, hm?”

You nodded absentmindedly, distracted by his charming smile

“M'sorry, Lucien,” you mumble, your words breathless and slightly slurred. “It was just a joke. I really want you to touch me,” you admit, your voice trailing off as you become increasingly dumbfounded in his intoxicated presence.

He tsked with mock sympathy. “It's okay, sweetheart,” he said gently, gripping your chin. “Let’s not say things we don’t mean the next time, okay?”

“Okay, I won’t.” you say blushing at the proximity before giving him a sweet sweet kiss on the lips. Lucien pulls you in closer and y’all fuck right there on the kitchen table but damn it was good

Yeah, banning Lucien from intimacy will never work

🏷️: @thelov3lybookworm @redbleedingrose @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @clairebear08 @rowaelinsdaughter @artists-ally @berryzxx @aroseinvelaris @cupidojenphrodite @jeannineee @daycourtofficial

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parkerslatte · 17 days

Text

It’s Been a Long, Long Time

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: memory loss.

Summary: The last time Azriel had seen his mate was nearly four centuries ago. The bond went silent and for those many years, Azriel believed his mate was dead. As he sits with Elain in her garden, the bond suddenly comes alive once again.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

The day Azriel lost his mate, he was in agony. Not because of the pain, no. It was because of the lack of knowledge if she was alive or not. The bond fell quiet and Azriel could hardly grasp onto it. It was as if he were trying to catch smoke. There was nothing to touch. For years he searched for her, he never wanted to give up. He knew that every moment he waited, she could be in danger.

Even long after she disappeared, Azriel still searched. However, as the centuries ticked by, Azriel began to lose hope. He was sure he had searched every possible location. There was no trace of Y/N.

Azriel sat with Elain in her garden. He had noticed a positive change in the middle Archeron sister for the past few months. When Rhys tasked him to watch over Elain and help her adjust, he originally hated the idea. But he knew the reason why Rhys had set him the task. It was coming up to the 400th anniversary since Y/N had disappeared.

As Azriel looked down at the ring in his hands, he could feel his heart plummet. Even if being around Elain had helped distract himself as she explained all of the flowers to him and their various meanings, the closer it got to the anniversary of Y/N’s disappearance, Azriel felt himself slip away from everyone and everything.

The ring was still beautiful even after all this time. Azriel made sure it was. Despite vowing to never take off her wedding ring, Y/N always took it off before bed, deeming that it was uncomfortable when she rested her head upon her hand to sleep. But the first thing she did every morning was slip the ring back upon her finger. The night she was taken it had been no different except one thing, Azriel had not been there. His job had kept him away for an extra day, and for the first time since they were mated and married, Azriel had not fallen asleep next to Y/N. He had regretted that for four hundred years. The only reminder of her was the ring he found on her bedside cabinet that morning.

“Azriel!” The sound of Elain’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Sorry?” He lifted his gaze from the ring and met Elain’s.

“I asked you what that was,” Elain said, gesturing down to the ring in his hand.

Azriel stilled. He never liked speaking about it with anyone but Rhys or Cassian. But seeing how Elain’s eyebrows were furrowed in concern, he could tell that a saddened expression had slipped onto his face.

Azriel sighed. “It was my mate’s wedding ring.”

“Mate?” Elain said, her expression falling slightly.

Azriel cringed internally. He knew about Elain’s small crush on him. She did not hide it well. Though he did not return her feelings, he still enjoyed her company. With her, she understood when he just wished to sit in silence and when he didn’t want to talk, she continued the conversation on her own.

Perhaps there was a time where he could have retired her feelings, Elain was rather beautiful, but she would never compare to Y/N. Azriel had never had another relationship after Y/N disappeared. He only ever wanted Y/N and he would only ever want her.

“Yes,” Azriel said, swallowing hard. “She- she disappeared four-hundred years ago. I was never able to find her.”

The small hurt expression on Elain’s face changed to one of sympathy. “Azriel, I am so sorry.”

Azriel nodded and looked back at the ring. “I have looked everywhere and there is no trace of her. I have always felt…empty since she disappeared. She was part of my soul that I have never gotten back.”

Elain dropped the bulbs she was holding back into her basket. “How do you know she is not out there? You couldn’t have searched everywhere on the planet?”

“I have searched everywhere where it was possible to take her,” Azriel answered. “I have found absolutely nothing.”

“Then believe that she is still out there,” Elain said.

“Elain, it has been nearly four-hundred years,” Azriel said. “I gave up hope of her still being alive a long time ago.”

“Do you still love her?” Elain asked.

“More than anything,” Azriel said instantly. “I haven’t been with anyone after she disappeared. I tried, about two-hundred years ago but I couldn’t do it. It felt so wrong. No one will ever compare to her.”

“Then you shouldn’t give up hope,” Elain said. “You don’t give up hope on those you love.”

Azriel did not reply. He simply looked back down at the ring once more. It was centuries old yet it still looked brand new. Azriel made sure that the silver band never tarnished. Made sure that the gem never stopped sparkling. It looked the same as the day he had slipped it onto her finger. Elain, sensing Azriel wished to no longer talk about the topic, returned back to her garden.

Ever since Y/N had disappeared, Azriel had always felt like he had lost part of his soul, and he supposed he had. Y/N was everything to him. She was who he lived for. She was the one and only love he ever needed, ever wanted. The night the bond snapped for them was one Azriel would never forget. Even if he tried, he would never be able to forget it. The initial shock then the pure feeling of the love she sent him. For the first time in his life, Azriel knew what it was like to be loved so deeply and unconditionally. It did not matter whether he deserved it or not. When he was with Y/N, none of that mattered. All that mattered was him and her and the fact that they were together.

As Azriel tucked the ring back into his breast pocket, a large surge of emotion was brought to life within him. He clutched at his chest. Azriel cried out.

“Azriel?” Elain questioned, shooting to her feet. “Are you okay?”

Her voice was muffled as Azriel continued to claw at his chest. Something was threatening to burst through.

“Something is different,” he forced out.

“Do I need to get anyone?” Elain asked.

“Rhys,” Azriel said. “I need Rhys.”

Elain nodded and ran out of the garden and into the house in search of his brother.

Azriel tried to stand but fell to his knees immediately. He could barely breathe. The pressure in his chest was gradually increasing and he could not place the feeling anywhere.

“I have Rhys,” Elain said, rushing back into the garden, Rhys following behind her.

“Az, what’s wrong?” Rhys asked, kneeling down next to him.

“I don’t know,” Azriel said, breathing heavily. “There is a pressure in my chest. I don’t know what it is.”

“What were you doing before it started?” Rhys asked.

“Telling–” Azriel cut himself off as he yelled out. The pressure was becoming worse and Azriel was sure that if he tried to repress it anymore, it would surely kill him. “Telling Elain about Y/N.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Elain asked quietly, standing a small distance away.

“Az, you need to relax,” Rhys said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I can’t,” Azriel said through gritted teeth.

“The pressure will kill you if you don’t relax,” Rhys said sternly. “So, please, relax.”

Azriel met Rhy’s eyes and stopped clawing at his chest. The pain in his chest gradually got worse and worse. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

“Rhys,” Azriel whispered, his voice full of pain. “I can’t…”

“Yes you can,” Rhys said. “Just relax, Az.”

Azriel closed his eyes and relaxed his body, letting the pain overtake his body until he cried out once again. However as soon as he cried out, the pain stopped and a new feeling overtook his body. It was overwhelming and Azriel backed away from Rhys’s touch.

“Azriel,” Rhys said. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. I can’t–”

Azriel cut himself off as a familiar feeling rose within him. This time he didn’t claw at his chest, he gently placed his hand upon it. The emotions he was feeling weren’t his. They were someone else’s. Azriel hadn’t felt this way in a long time. He had forgotten what it felt like. But it felt right.

“The mating bond,” Azriel said. “I feel the mating bond.”

Even Rhys looked shocked as he looked at Azriel. “Are you sure?”

Azriel nodded. “I can feel it. I can feel her, Rhys.”

Tears sprung to Azriel’s eyes. He tugged on that bond that had lain dormant for four hundred years. It was weak though he felt her tug back. Azriel could have sobbed at that feeling alone.

“Take me back to my home, Rhys,” Azriel said.

The home Azriel shared with Y/N. He hadn’t entered it in a long time. He could never bring himself to. Every single time he tried, he couldn’t open the door. That house was the home he made with Y/N and Azriel did not want to be there if she wasn’t.

“Are you sure?” Rhys asked.

“I’m sure,” Azriel said. “She is there, Rhys. I can feel it.”

Rhys nodded and winnowed them to the outside of Azriel’s home on the outskirts of Velaris. As soon as they arrived, Azriel could already smell the familiar scent of his mate. He pushed away from Rhys and opened the front door.

And there she was.

Y/N stood in the middle of the room looking around with her hands on her hips. “You could have dusted, Az.”

Azriel simply couldn’t believe it. “Y/N? Are you really here?”

Y/N smiled softly and Azriel nearly collapsed right there. That smile was always in his dreams but seeing it again in person…

Azriel rushed over to her and scooped her in his arms as they both sank to the floor. Azriel couldn’t stop the sobs that came from him and neither could Y/N. The bond between them hummed happily. Four hundred years of being apart and now finally being reunited. It was something Azriel had given up on a long time ago.

“How are you here?” Azriel mumbled, his sobs subsided but his tears didn’t. “I thought you were dead.”

Y/N pulled away from the hug and cupped Azriel’s cheeks and wiped away the tears. “You are exactly as I remember. It has been so long since I remembered what you looked like.”

“What do you mean?” Azriel asked.

Y/N sighed and held onto Azriel tighter, as if she were afraid she was going to be taken once more. “The night I was taken, I was drugged, they wanted me for my power of healing and I refused to give in. They were bad men and I was not going to help them no matter how hard they tried to convince me. They drugged my food to make me compliant but the only thing I could think about was you and our bond. Once they realised who I was and who I was mated to, they gave me another drug. This time it was one to dampen the power of the mating bond. It made me stop feeling you.”

“I remember that night,” Azriel said. “I thought you blocked it off.”

Y/N shook her head. “Once the mating bond was dampened, they drugged me with something else. Over time I began to forget things, important things. My name, where I came from, my family, my friends…you.”

Azriel wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her body flush against his. The sound of her heart beating was enough to bring a new surge of tears to his eyes. He never thought he would hear it again.

“They took me to a place on the continent, an entire city deep below ground with its own artificial sun and moon, whole fields and towns. Once I did not remember anything, they gave me a new identity and a whole new life.”

“You didn’t remember me?” Azriel asked.

“I didn’t,” Y/N said sadly, threading her fingers in his hair. “But I always felt that there was a part of me missing. Even though the mating bond was repressed, I always felt that something was not quite right.”

Azriel’s heart fell. This whole time he had been in agony that his mate had been missing, while she did not remember him at all. “How did you escape?” he asked.

“If you believe me or not, there are good people in that community, incredible people,” Y/N said. “They helped me flush the drugs from my system and helped me remember who I once was.”

“The bond?” Azriel asked. “Did they help with that?”

Y/N shook her head. “Once the drugs were from my system and I was finally above ground, I felt you. I winnowed back here instantly. Consider me surprised when this house looks exactly the same as when I left four-hundred years ago.”

“I haven’t been able to come back here since you were taken,” Azriel whispered, his voice soft and vulnerable.

Y/N caressed his face and wiped his tears away. “Oh, my darling. I am here now. Only if you still want me, of course.”

Azriel frowned. “Why wouldn’t I want you?”

“Az, my love, it has been four-hundred years. I would understand if you moved on in those years,” Y/N said.

Azriel shook his head. “There has been no one else. I tried almost two centuries ago but I couldn’t do it. All I wanted was you.” When Azriel looked at her face again, he nearly burst into tears once more. It had been so long since he had looked into those loving eyes. The type of love he once thought he never deserved. “If you had found anyone, I would understand. You didn’t remember me.” Just that statement alone made Azriel hurt all over again.

Y/N sighed a pained noise. “I won’t lie to you and say that there was no one, Azriel. There were a couple of people I have been with over the past four centuries.”

A new surge of tears streamed down Azriel’s cheeks as he gripped onto Y/N tighter.

“But,” she continued, “there has been no one for many years and no one ever stuck around long. I could never fully commit. It was as if my body knew that it was wrong. I did like a few people but I never loved them. I could never love anyone more than I love you.”

“I never want you to go anywhere again,” Azriel whispered into her hair. “I missed you so much.”

Azriel’s fingers tangled in her hair as he rested his forehead against hers. Her soft breath fanned his face and Azriel swore he could nearly faint. Her scent, her touch, her breath. They were all things Azriel never thought he would ever witness again.

“I am never going anywhere again,” Y/N mumbled. “I will remain beside you forever, my love.”

Azriel reluctantly unwrapped one hand from around Y/N and reached into his pocket and pulled out her ring. Y/N gasped once she saw it.

“You kept it?” She asked.

“Of course I kept it,” Azriel said. “I always have it on me. It was the only thing I had that reminded me of you.”

Y/N wiped her tears away as Azriel took her hand gently in hers and slid the ring onto her finger. “Perfect,” he whispered.

Y/N looked him in the eyes. The love she held within them was something Azriel never forgot. He would see them in his dreams and nightmares. It was something he never thought he would see in person again.

“Can I kiss you?” Azriel asked, almost afraid of the answer.

Y/N smiled. “Az, I am your mate and your wife. There might have been a four century gap in our relationship but those two facts do not change. I love you. Of course you can kiss me. Kiss me until you can’t anymore.”

The shadowsinger smiled. “Then I’m afraid we will be here a while.”

Azriel finally kissed his mate and wife for the first time in four hundred years.

#azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel angst #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

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stormhearty · 3 months

Text

Paring: former Azriel x Reader

Triggers: mentions of cheating, mentions of death, cursing, a lot of bold and italicize

Word Count: 3K+

Summary: The High Lords called a meeting to discuss the Death-God’s resurrection. However, with the death of their Seer, tensions run high between Day and Night Court, Helion outraged by the loss of your life. Truths are revealed and lies are exposed. And what happens when the High Lords realize that they have all been too late?

Note: I thank you all for all the love you have given to my one shot!! I had never thought it would have been so well received by fans and writers! I am very amused by everyone's reactions and thoughts on the one shot — everyone is wanting blood and redemption for our poor reader. And she will! This chapter is a segway/filler chapter — but still important. It's still angsty, don't worry. This one shot will probably become a 3 part series. I know in that voting poll I had done asked if you guys wanted a 5k chapter, rather than a 2- 2k chapters, but I wanted to leave you guys with one more chapter to look forward to! Please look forward to it!

Part One | Part Three | Epilogue

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

“You had abandoned my emissary, disregarded her sight and had her take her own life in your Court… And for what? Your mate’s sister’s powers?!” Helion was fuming, amber eyes staring the High Lord of Night down, “And that her mate — - “a growl escaped his lips, as he glanced at the Spymaster next to Rhysand, “Had cheated on her for said sister?!”

The High Lord of Day’s voice echoed throughout the throne room, shaking its very walls at the allegation of what had happen within the wards of the Night Court. Helion’s fingers gripped the edge of the large round table, his claws causing the wood to splint underneath his fingertips.

“And now… you are telling me that her body disappeared?” his voice deathly low, “That your Spymaster’s shadows had whisked her body away to — God-knows-where… That, that child, never had never had a proper burial?!”

Rhysand couldn’t utter a single word against the claims placed against him and his Court — he couldn’t when everything that Helion had roared was true.

“… Show me…” Helion hissed, focusing at his old friend, “Show us what had happened that day…”

Rhysand gulped, staring at Helion before glancing around the table towards the High Lords of Pyrthian. All of them staring him down before all felt the claws of Rhysand's power creeping in their minds, images of that day of your death playing in their minds — all of them watching the confrontation between the Inner Circle and you — on how you were cornered and betrayed, leading up to your very death.

He hated it. Rhysand not only relived that that multiple times during his dreams — where he had failed you. He now had to relieve it while he was awake. Hearing your pleads and cries for him to listen to your visions, and seeing your body dying on that marble floor — to watch it be taken away by tendrils of shadow.

Once the memory came to pass, sobs echoed throughout the room. Helion being the loudest as he ran a hand down his face, his form shaking in his seat. Rhysand glanced towards his Inner Circle, watching his family relive that moment as well; eyes focusing on Azriel, who gripped the arms of his chair as his face wrinkled in anguish at the memory.

It had been a month ever since your death, a month since the sliver of shadows that once served the Spymaster had taken your body away — unknown to even Azriel on where they had brought your body to. And a month ever since more and more whispers of Koschei’s resurrection echoed throughout the Courts. The Death-God’s power vibrating throughout all of Pyrthian — it was difficult to not miss.

The High Lords gathered in Day Court to strategize on the impending danger of the Death-God. However, it was no secret on what had happened in the wards of Night Court. The loss of your light present throughout all of Pyrthian — every High Lord felt it.

Especially Helion.

He wanted nothing more to hurt and maim every member of the Inner Circle; but that wasn’t the purpose of this meeting — though he wanted it to be.

Helion reigned in his emotions, trying to calm the rage that boiled in his blood. Trying to clam the sadness he felt for the loss of you. He straightened up in his chair, letting out a shaky breath, looking back at the Night Court High Lord.

“… I regret that I ever had sent (Y/N) to your Court, Rhysand,” his tone small and disappointed, “Her powers were wasted on you and your Court. A Seer taking their life, being betrayed by the people she called her family,” His head shaking, a laugh, one so loud and so sarcastic escaping his chest that it echoed in throne room, startling the other High Lords, making Rhysand flinch in his seat. “What a damn found family you made. Betraying one’s mate, betraying a person who had served you for five-hundred fucking years over a female who barely has control over her own powers.”

Amber eyes darted to Elain, as he watched her flinch back, hiding behind the eldest Archeron sister, “What prophecy have you seen now?” the sarcasm very evident in his tone, “Have you seen what (Y/N) has seen? Have you seen the resurrection of Kosechi, as well? Your powers are nothing compared to (Y/N)’s.”

“How dare you talk to someone in my Court like — -” Rhysand started.

“You have no right to challenge me in my own Court, Rhysand!” Helion bellowed, hands slamming on the table, standing up as he glared at his once-called friend, “Do you realize what you have done?! Do you realize why there hasn’t been a Seer in millennials? Why (Y/N) has been the only recorded Seer in the history of Pyrthian? Because Seers have been hunted — by Fae, humans and Gods alike. They are so sought after, for their power, for the knowledge, for their sight. Seers have the power to uncover what is hidden, lurking in the darkness. They are the very light that unveils the darkness. They have been hunted to be exterminated for that very power…”

It had been the very reason why Helion had taken you in when you were a child, guarded carefully in the Day Court. To ensure the prosper of your power, the prosper of your light.

Amber eyes darted around the table, eyes staring at the High Lords that had situated themselves in this very room, listening to his tale before they stared back at Rhysand, “You, being the powerfullest High Lord if all of Pyrthian should have known that. And now, her body, one filled with Unknown-God-and Cauldron bound powers is missing…”

A huff escaped his lips in exasperation as he sat down back into his seat, “Her body should be buried here, in my Court, where she rightfully belongs to. But, no. And none of us could properly pray respects for the loss of her light…”

It was no secret that Helion had a soft spot for you. You were like his child, raising you since you were small, watching you grow and become a bright light within the Day Court. He knew how your light felt, how he basked in it as if it was the sun that radiated overhead.

And so when he had woken up that night in cold sweat, feeling the vanishing of your light — he knew something had gone terribly wrong.

“… — Helion…” Feyre tentatively called out to him, “You said her body is Cauldron bound? What do you mean by that?”

The Day High Lord glanced at the High Lady, staring her down before he nodded his head once. Leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand, “That’s what both myself and (Y/N) believe. (Y/N) is one the strongest Seers I have met in my life, those few Seers that I have encountered, ones that have wanted to remain hidden, are no match to (Y/N)’s powers. Your little Cauldon-Made Seer is no match for her either,” he sneered at the middle Archeron sister.

"There has been little records of Seers in Prythian, we all know that. Not even my libraries had enough information about them and their powers. But, despite that, (Y/N) was able to hone into her powers with little instructions… You know that she doesn’t just see the future, she was able to see what was happening now. She was able to focus on parts of Pyrthian and tell me what is and what will happen.

“But during the war with Hybern, much like when Nesta felt the Cauldron, (Y/N) felt it too. We didn’t know why, but we realized she and the Cauldron were somewhat connected. Whether it be the Cauldron was reason why she has her visions or if the Cauldron was the source of her power, they were bound. A natural connection between the two of them. And when the Cauldron broke, (Y/N) had told me she felt the Cauldron’s power sought refuge with her, as if the Cauldron sought her light.

“After the war, she had asked for my opinion — she felt the remnants of the Cauldron’s power tingling through her. She told me she saw more visions, visions of the far off future that she had no idea when would happen, and that her powers were starting to become out of her control. She was starting to lose herself in her powers, lose her mind to it… I didn’t know how to help her…”

The Inner Circle remembered, weeks after the end of the war, (Y/N) had asked if she could return to Day Court for a few weeks. Rhysand had let her, thinking it was not important. Azriel, too, didn’t question on her reason why she wanted to leave.

It was when they started to not care. When they started to focus their attention to Elain — the Seer that had defeated the King of Hybern.

Helion let out a broken laugh, staring at the Inner Circle, “I’m sure you never knew, did you? On how broken she started to be after the war. You never knew how her sleep was plagued with visions, that she couldn’t even close her eyes without images flashing behind them. Of how she sobbed in bed, wondering if she was in a dream or reality. She couldn’t differentiate anymore… And you…” eyes focusing on Azriel, “You never felt her pain because you put up a wall between your mating bond. Did you know, Azriel…”

The Day High Lord’s tone was seething, remembering those day.

“Did you know, how she cried for you? She begged down the bond for you to come and help. Wanting your protection, wanting to help sooth the pain she had felt? Wanting you just to be there? But all she could feel was the wall you placed, ignoring her… abandoning her when she needed all of you the most…

“I sent her back, hoping that all of you would help. I sent her back with sleeping tonics, hoping to help her with her sleep. Hoping that her family and mate would help her through her toughest time. Hoping that you all would see her. But I can see that never happened. That no matter how much she begged for you all to listen to her visions, to see her in pain, you ignored,” his voice was laced with anger, disappointment.

No one said a word. The air in the room tense and dense at the revelation that Helion lamented. No one knew of what you had gone through.

Azriel felt his his heart burn in his chest, as if his siphons were burning his skin — he felt the remnants of the broken mating bond in his chest, aching more at Helion’s words.

He didn’t know, he didn’t see, he didn’t feel the pain you were going through. He had ignored the tug of the bond when he had that wall up. He had been too infatuated with the middle Archeron sister, wanting her to feel belonged in their Court — all the while alienating the person who had been with him through thick and thin.

And, yet, he couldn’t do the same for you.

Bright blue eyes closed as Feyre silently mourned and apologized to the Heavens, to the night sky where you might have been.

But she realized on the implications of what had Helion had told them — that you might have been the Cauldron-bound object that Koschei needed to escape that lake.

She looked up at Rhysand, and he to her as they communicated down the bond. Both of them realizing what could happen.

The gesture wasn’t missed by Helion as he watched them, waiting for them to explain what they might have discovered. However, when they did not say anything, a growl escaped his chest.

“What is it?”

Feyre and Rhysand looked at the Day High Lord, hesitance shown in their features, “… It’s about what (Y/N) had told us. You all saw it in that memory…”

Helion thought, playing the memory back as he watched remembered your face, the anguish of your features shining through his head, listening to your words — your vision of what might pass.

“… That Koschei needed something from the Cauldron to be released from the lake,” Lucien pointed out from his spot next to Helion, the russete eye looking at Elain before back to Feyre.

“What if…” Tarquin mumbled, “…Koschei found (Y/N)’s body? If you and (Y/N) knew of the connection to the Cauldron, that the Cauldron sought her power. He could use her body to be freed from that lake.”

Helion looked at the Summer High Lord, amber eyes wide at the realization, “… If that were to come to pass, we would be doomed. (Y/N)’s body is probably soaked in Cauldron powers. It would be so easy for Koschei to be freed, and no one would ever notice. It is not impossible, but since (Y/N)’s body has disappeared, it is possible for her to have fallen into his clutches.”

Kallias, in the mist of the conversation, was watching, observing, the only remaining Seer in the room. He leaned forward, bright blue hues staring the Made-Fae, as he rested both arms on the table, “Have you had any visions?”

Heads turned towards the High Lord of Winter at his question. It did not phase him, as he continued, ”I heard from your High Lady that you rarely said anything about your visions, since the Cauldron broke. So do tell us, what have you seen about the Death-God?” If she had her powers still, a Seer would be still useful in this situation.

Elain visibly swallowed, as all attention was on her once more. Brown eyes frantically glanced around the table, over to her sisters and then to Azriel who both looked at her expectedly.

A heartbeat later, and the Middle Archeron sister knew that she couldn't lie.

She shook her head, “I have not seen anything… since the Cauldron broke…” her words nothing but a whisper in the wind.

It was as if a pin dropped on marble floors, the silence in the room was penetrating.

A laugh broke the silence. Eris’ shook his in disbelief on the drama they were hearing, “So you’re telling us, you have been lying about having your powers. And that (Y/N), who has actually seen those visions had taken her life?” he glared at the middle Archeron sister, “For what? Because you needed a position in the Night Court? So that you can gain the Spymaster’s affection? To bed him?”

Elain shook her head again, brown eyes desperate as she tried to catch eye with her family, with Nesta, who just looked away, brows furrowed with anguish, “… I just wanted to be useful…” she whispered in fear, slumping down in her chair, “My powers… were the only thing that made me feel like I belonged… But I didn’t have them, and… I just, didn’t want to lose my family.”

“And yet, you were willing to let (Y/N) lose her family, her mate… and her life. Just to keep your own,” Thesan expressed, "That selfishness will be the downfall of Pyrthian."

Elain flinched at the truth thrown onto her face, eyes down-casting, silence taking over her form.

Before anyone could reprimand Elain for her actions, the grand doors slammed open, a dark mist blowing throughout the room. Frightened and confused screams echoed through the room.

Helion stood up, using his power of light to dissipate the darkness that tried to cover the room. Amber eyes glowed as he watched as a cloaked figure float into the room.

Eyes watched the cloaked figure as it settled its form onto the floor, bare pale feet touching the marble.

“… I would think… that if the Pyrthian High Lords would gather… they would invite a God to their meeting. But I guess, manners do not exist in this world…” the voice was grating and brittle.

The hood swept, as if eyes inside were looking at all the High Lords that were now standing up, all attention to him.

A eerie chuckle escaped the hooded figure, spiny fingers grasping the edge before slipping it down. White hair and black eyes were revealed, pale, sickly skin glowed underneath the darkness that had surrounded him.

The figure bowed, a mocking gesture to the High Lords.

“It seems, that you are unaware of who you are being greeted by…” a boney finger raised up and pointed towards Nesta, the eldest sister stiffening, “Though I’m quite sure you do, dearest sister…” he grinned at her.

Nesta gulped and looked at the uninvited guest. She knew who would greet her like that — only the Death Caver has echoed the same words, “You’re Koschei… aren’t you…”

Koschei grinned wider, head tilting to the side as he stepped forward, laughing as the High Lords ready themselves for a battle with the Death-God.

“Oh don’t be so tense, my High Lords…” he mockingly commented, sweeping a hand, “Please sit… Do not stop your meeting for dear little old me. Though it is such an honor for you to do so.”

He rounded the table, eyes making contact with each of the High Lord, black eyes sweeping over their forms before he stopped before Rhysand.

Violet hues and black sockets stared at each other.

“Though I do have to thank you, High Lord of the Night… You have gifted me the precious gift of life. Though, it was through the loss of one of your own… You might have known her. Cared for her… Loved her…” Koschei looked at Azriel whose hazel eyes burned at the Death-God.

He let out a low laugh.

Tarquin’s assumption was right — the Death-God had used your body to free himself from the lake, right underneath their noses. No one felt it, no one knew. And it had been too late to do anything about it; months too late to prevent the resurrection, months too late to find your missing body, months too late of not listening to you.

Koschei looked behind him, far past the grand windows, the familiar cry of the bird of fire and ash echoing through the lands of Day Court, heading towards them — Vassa had come to stop the sorcerer-lord from his destruction.

However, before she landed on the balcony, an arrow, made of shadow and darkness struck her, causing the great bird to plummet to the land beneath her.

Lucien gasped and ran towards the balcony, peering down to see if the mortal queen had survived the fall; but there was no sign of the cursed queen anywhere below.

“What a dramatic entry by Vassa, as always…” Koschei said with a sigh, before another chuckle escaped his lips, dark eyes boring into the empty spot beside him, “Don’t you think… (Y/N)?”

All heads snapped towards the Deathless God, your name slipping from his lips, as they watched a swirl of darkness materialized a familiar figure. Azriel watched, hazel eyes wide as he took in your form, whisps of shadows that had whirled around you — his shadows, one that had abandoned him ever since your death.

“…(Y/N)…” Azriel whispered in disbelief, his voice shaking.

There you stood, next to the Death-God, very much alive.

Very much like a Death-God yourself.

And it echoed in your outfit — tendrils of shadow made up your dress, covering you from head to toe, fluttering near your feet as if a gown swayed by the wind. In your hands, a bow and arrow made of those shadows — the very bow that had struck Vassa down from her flight.

That was where Azriel’s shadows had gone to — leaving him, following you to your death, and making you someone completely different.

Someone that was going to be the downfall of Pyrthian itself.

Tagging: @cleverzonkwombatsludge, @setayeshmohseni, @kindasleepycryptid, @f4iry-bell, @woodland-mist, @kalulakunundrum, @topaz125, @thelov3lybookworm, @hnyclover, @harrystylesfan2686, @anuttellaa, @ithan-holstroms-girl, @judig92, @venuseuripedis, @fairywriter-oracle, @thehighlordishere, @acourtofbatboydreams, @willowpains, @historygreekqueen, @dr4g0ngirl, @ayme301, @kemillyfreitas, @crazylokonugget, @abysshaven, @michaelharrypotter, @naturakaashi, @kittenbi, @namelesssav, @guiltyreader, @awkardnerd, @je-suis-prest-rachel, @quackitysdrugdealer, @thesunloveschips, @brieflyclassymortal, @justdreamstars, @isa1b2h3, @himesuedi, @fxckmiup, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @t0uch-starved-h0e, @mybestfriendmademe

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #acotar angst #acotar x reader #acotar fic #a court of thorns and roses #( .one shot : pushed to the edge )#acotar fanfic #azriel angst #helion acotar #eris vanserra #rhysand #feyre archeron

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corroded-hellfire · 3 months

Note

no bc cockwarming with older!eddie is soooooooo

Oh I agree 100%. It’s something I need in my life but I guess I’ll have to settle for only having it in writing. Older!eddie my beloved 😍

Warnings: older!eddie, smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral, m receiving, cockwarming, brat and brat tamer

Words: 3.3k

Eddie was never a sports fan. Never interested him, never played nor watched. His needing to be home to watch a game had never been an issue you’d had to deal with in your relationship. So, when the day comes that Eddie is more focused on something that’s on the television than you, you’re not having it.

It’s a Saturday night and the two of you had finished off the pizza that you’d ordered, and you’d gone to take a shower. Halfway through your time spent in the steam, you start to feel a little lonely and wish your boyfriend would join you. Calling his name a few times doesn’t seem to work, even though the walls are thin in his trailer. With a pout, you step out of the shower and wrap a fuzzy towel around your body. Still dripping little droplets of water on the carpet, you pad down the hallway to see where your man is. Nothing Else Matters is coming from the television, and you find Eddie sitting on the couch with a beer in his hand. You’ve heard enough Metallica through him to know that’s what’s on the tv, but you’re not sure what he’s so transfixed on.

“Whatcha watching, baby?” you ask.

His eyes flit briefly over to you before returning to the screen. “Metallica documentary.”

“Oh.” You take a few steps closer to the couch and cock your head to the side. “Didn’t you hear me calling for you?”

“Hmm? Oh, no. You okay?” Eddie’s words are very monotone. You don’t doubt that there’s real concern for you there, but he couldn’t sound less enthusiastic if he tried.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just wanted some company,” you say coyly. There’s no reaction from your boyfriend. Figuring you’ll make it plain as day for him, you drop your towel, leaving your naked body on full display. He turns his head towards you, his eyes staying on the television until the last moment, then flickering your way as well. Arching an eyebrow, Eddie pats his jean-clad thigh and looks back to the television. It’s not exactly the reaction you were looking for, but you’ll take it.

You stroll over to him and perch yourself in his lap. His hands rest on your hips, but he tries to look around you at the television. Your gaze is trained on him, not quite a glare but only a skosh softer. Eddie either doesn’t notice the way you’re looking at him or he doesn’t care. So, you rest your hands on his shoulders and gently press your nails into his t-shirt covered skin, adding pressure bit by bit until he frowns and meets your eye.

“Ow, babe,” he says. “What was that for?”

“You haven’t looked at me once since I sat in your lap. Am I bothering you?” It’s hard to keep the snark out of your voice, even though you’re aware you sound like a petulant child.

“No,” Eddie says with a soft sigh. “I just want to watch this documentary. I haven’t seen it, and you know Metallica is my favorite.”

A groan tumbles from your lips as you drop your head forward and rest it on his shoulder. Cold water drips from your hair onto his neck, sending a shiver throughout his body.

“You want a blanket?” he asks.

His words have you jolting upright and, this time, full-out glaring at him.

“You want me to cover up?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Eddie says, suppressing an eye roll – he knows it will only make it worse. “You just got out of the shower, aren’t you cold?”

“A little,” you say. “So warm me up.”

“Babe, this is over in an hour, can we just–”

“Fine.” You move to get off his lap, but his large hands keep you pinned in place. The overly cheerful voice of a woman trying to sell some new workout video comes from behind you and it makes you huff. “So now that there’s a commercial you’ll pay attention to me?”

“You’re being a real brat, you know that?”

Your eyebrows pull together as you frown at him. “I just want to get some lovin’ from my boyfriend.”

“Oh, baby,” Eddie says with a sigh. “So desperate for my cock, huh? Be a good girl then, get on your knees.”

With how fast and hard your knees hit the threadbare carpet in the living room, Eddie suspects you’ll either have bruised knees or rug burn. But you don’t seem to mind one bit as you stare up at him with wide, eager eyes. Your hands immediately fly to Eddie’s belt, and you’ve undone that and his zipper in the short few seconds it took Eddie to lift his hips so you could slide his jeans and boxers down.

It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve seen it—or stroked it, licked it, sucked it, had it inside of you, etc—the sight of Eddie’s cock still gets you immediately wet. The promise of the pleasure that he’s going to bring you.

Being eye level with Eddie’s semi-hard cock has you licking your lips in greedy anticipation. Not able to wait one moment more, you lean forward and wrap your hand around the base of Eddie’s cock. His pubic hair brushes against the side of your hand with every stroke.

You push yourself up on your knees so you can let some saliva drip down onto Eddie’s cock, making it easier for you to work your hand over it. A groan slips from your lips as you eye the bead of precum gathering on the tip.

As if based purely on primal instinct, you lean in and run your tongue flat over the head. Eddie’s thighs tense around your head as you savor the salty tang that coats your tongue.

You’re tempted to tease Eddie but with him already accusing you of acting like a brat, he might not let you suck him off. It’s been the toughest torture you’ve ever had to bear when Eddie makes you watch him get off all on his own.

Not willing to take that risk, you engulf the head of his cock in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. One of Eddie’s hands rests on the back of your hair, not pushing, just lying there. It puts enough weight on your head to make you sink a little further down on his cock.

“Good girl,” Eddie drawls out.

The praise does nothing to help the wetness that feels as if it will drool down your legs any second. You bob your head, taking a little more of him in each time you go down. Tears annoyingly pool in your eyes and you blink a few times to get them to roll down your cheeks; nothing is going to distract you from giving Eddie the best head you can. Just as you’re about to take him into your throat, Eddie’s fingers dig into your hair, rings lightly scraping against your scalp, and he pulls you off of him.

A whine of protest reflexively flies out of your mouth at the loss. Your brain hardly has time to wonder why your boyfriend pulled you off of him before he tugs your head backwards so you’re looking up at him. His attention is not on you though, it’s back on the television that you hear once again playing music you recognize as Metallica’s. Eddie is looking straight ahead, not sparing you a glance as you pout up at him.

“Get up here,” he orders as he drops your hair.

“What?” you ask. Using the back of your hands you wipe the tear streaks from your cheeks and the saliva that managed to leak out of your mouth.

“Get. Up.”

You push yourself up on unsteady legs and Eddie groans in irritation as you block his view of the television. A strong hand grips your naked waist and pulls you forward until you’re tumbling into his lap.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Eddie’s voice is low and husky, the dominance in it sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re going to sit on my cock and keep quiet until this show is over. If you’re good, maybe you’ll get rewarded. If you’re a brat, you can get yourself off tonight. Understood?”

“Yes, Eddie,” you reply, hardly above a whisper.

Making sure to lean your torso to the side to keep out of his way, you straddle Eddie’s hips and reach behind you to line his cock up with your entrance. Slowly, you start to sink down on him, the initial stretch leading you to let out a low moan.

“Shhh,” Eddie chastises, never taking his eyes from the flickering screen behind you.

Teeth gnash into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood to keep yourself from making any other noises. Tense fingers dig into Eddie’s black t-shirt clad shoulders as you fully seat yourself on his lap. After you’ve given yourself a moment to adjust, you start to lift yourself up again, but Eddie immediately slams you back down.

A sharp whine is forced out of you, and you grip the cotton material of Eddie’s shirt in your fists.

“Wha—” you start to ask but Eddie cuts you off.

“You’re going to sit here, completely still. You’re not going to move around or make a sound.”

You drop your head forward and rest your forehead on Eddie’s shoulder as you let out a small whimper. This is pure torture. Being so close to everything you want, but not allowed to rock your hips to make the dream a reality.

Metallica music continues to play behind you and when you glance up at the older man, he has his entire focus on the show. You almost slip up and let out an irritated groan, but you know you’ll regret it if you do.

A few minutes pass by but it feels like an eternity as you just sit there, half listening to the loud metal music coming from behind you as you slump against Eddie’s body. Just as a song comes to an end and yet another journalist begins to talk on camera, Eddie’s hips shift, causing him to move inside of you. The unexpected jolt has you gasping and burying your face into Eddie’s neck.

“Relax, I’m just making myself comfortable,” he says.

You highly doubt that but keep your thoughts to yourself as you try to calm your body down again. Eddie’s a little shit and you’d put money on this being only the first time he messes with you, looking to see how far he can push before you push back. Sure enough, just as you’ve let your guard down and let your mind wander, there’s a sharp smack to your ass. The sting makes you jump, and Eddie’s hands instinctively move to your waist to steady you.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “My hand slipped.”

He’s full of shit and you both know it. Eddie’s playing dirty now and you have to think of a counterattack. Anything too obvious and he’ll make both of you get yourselves off tonight, so it has to be subtle.

Moving slowly so as to not interrupt his television time, you curl against his chest so he can feel it when you expand your lungs and let out a silent yawn against his neck. As you yawned though, there may have been clenching of your walls around his dick. You feel more than hear the growl that reverberates through his chest. Now when you bite your lip it’s to keep the smile off your face.

You peer over at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall and see that this documentary should be over in about fifteen minutes. So close yet so far. The chill from your still wet skin is starting to settle in as well, which is going to make this quarter of an hour tick by even slower.

Thankfully, the end of the show has some of the Metallica songs you’re more familiar with, so it gives you something to listen to while you wait for this test of wills to be over. With five minutes left you feel yourself getting antsy. Eddie just said until the documentary was over, right? Does that mean the second it’s done he’s going to start fucking you like you’ve been craving for what feels like hours now? Or will he be a prick some more and pretend like he doesn’t know what you’ve been waiting for this whole time. You’d place your bets on the second option. Eddie never turned down an opportunity to be a pain in the ass.

The last song fades out and the show is over. You immediately sit up and look at Eddie with wide eyes. You did it. You had done what he asked of you and now you get your reward, right? Right?

As nonchalantly as you’ve ever seen him, he raises his arms up over his head to stretch out his back and abdominal muscles. Usually, you’d take the opportunity to stare at his tummy when his shirt rode up, but with his cock literally inside of you it feels like a moot point.

“Eddie,” you say. It’s not quite a whine, more like a poke—a nudge.

“Yes?”

He was going to drive you insane one of these days.

“It’s over, right?”

“It is.”

“So…?” you trail off.

“So, it was pretty good. Wish they had more metal documentaries like that.”

You’re two seconds away from putting your hands around Eddie’s throat—and not in the way he sometimes likes.

“And I was good too, right?” You’re practically batting your eyelashes at him, and it takes Eddie a moment to compose himself enough not to laugh.

“I guess you were.”

“So…” you drawl as you lean in to press soft kisses against the side of his neck. “Do I get my reward then?”

“What is it that you wanted, baby? Was it this?” Eddie rolls his hips up against yours and your eyes flutter closed at the feeling.

“Y-Yes,” you manage. “Need you, Eddie.”

“God, I love when you get all needy for my cock. Should I make you beg for it?”

He knows you will if he demands it. Eddie enjoys moments like this when he’s in full control, knowing you’ll do whatever he wants. That his cock drives you so wild that you become putty in his hands. It makes a nice change since in every other aspect of your relationship you have him wrapped around your little finger.

“Please, please, Eddie,” you whine, fingers grasping at the front of his t-shirt.

Eddie takes in your pouted lips and your widened eyes. He can’t help but smile at how utterly adorable you are; but somehow still the sexiest woman he’s ever met.

“Alright, baby,” Eddie finally acquiesces. He reaches up and cups your cheek in his hand. Slowly and delicately, Eddie swipes his thumb right below your bottom eyelid. “Take what you want.”

The permission unlocks an energy reservoir you weren’t aware you had as you place your hands on Eddie’s shoulders for balance and push yourself up, almost letting his cock slip out. But at the last moment you lower yourself back down, the two of you moaning in tandem as he bottoms out again. You set a relentless pace as you begin to bounce on his cock. Eddie’s eyes hungrily watch your tits as they bounce along with you, providing your boyfriend with double the pleasure.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans and drops his head back against the couch. Teasing you was definitely worth it with the way you’re taking his cock for all its worth.

Your hands move up Eddie’s shoulder and slide around to tangle your fingers at the dark curls at the base of his skull.

“This what you wanted, huh?” Eddie asks and pauses to catch his labored breath. He can feel how wet you are and that tells him this is exactly what your goal was. “Needed to have me deep inside of you.”

“So deep,” you mutter with a nod.

“Mm, what would you do without me, baby?” Eddie taunts, lifting his hands to massage your breasts.

“God, I would die.”

Eddie chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Nobody could make you feel as good as I do. I know.”

“Uh huh,” you pant.

Eddie notices your movements becoming slower, the strength draining from your body. Persistent woman that you are, you keep going, moving up and down to take what you want. One of Eddie’s arms snakes around the small of your back and the other comes up to cup your cheek.

“Hey, I’ve got you,” he says softly. Eddie turns to lay you down on the weathered couch and slides an old throw pillow beneath your hips. A loud whine of protest comes from deep in your chest when Eddie slips out of you as your positions change. “Love how desperate you get for me. Only me who gets to see you wrecked like this. So fuckin’ hot.”

As Eddie pushes himself back into your soaked, throbbing pussy your whines turn much more pleasurable. Your boyfriend holds onto the arm of the couch behind your head and uses the leverage to piston his hips.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you cry.

“Too much?” Eddie teases, slowing his hips. “Should I stop?”

“Fuck, no.”

A cocky smirk grows on the older man’s face, a breathy chuckle coming from him at your vociferous reply. His hips pick up speed again, just as eager to please you as you are to be pleased. The arm that isn’t holding him steady against the couch runs over your tits, up your neck, and his fingers meet your lips.

“Open.”

You let your jaw drop, letting Eddie slip his middle and forefinger into your mouth. Just as you did to his cock before, you swirl your tongue around the digits, the feeling of something in your mouth only making you feel that much fuller. Reluctantly, you let Eddie move his hand when he starts to pull away, but not before letting your bottom teeth gently graze against the pads of his fingers.

Eddie’s hand dips down between your bodies and rubs tight circles over your clit. The added stimulation has your muscles tightening, that familiar buildup soaring in you. Your right hand clutches Eddie’s arm, the grip hard enough to leave bruises that will linger for the next few days.

“Eddie, fuck.”

“That’s right. Cum for me, princess.”

“W-Wanna cum with you.”

He dips down and trails hot kisses from your chin, all the way down your throat.

“You’ve been naked for the past hour,” he mumbles against your sweat covered skin. “Never mind how long I’ve been inside of you. You really think I’m gonna be able to last much longer? Come on, baby. Cum for me.”

The urging is all you need before letting your orgasm wash over you, back arching off the couch, and pressing your tits against Eddie’s shirt. The clenching and fluttering of your walls around him has Eddie following right after you, spilling into you and filling you up. Wanting to make sure you take every single drop, Eddie fucks his cum into you even after his orgasm begins to wane.

The weight of Eddie’s body pressing on top of yours is exactly what you need in the moments as your bliss fades away. Contentment fills the both of you as you breathe together, both sweaty and satiated. Eddie uses the last of the energy he has left to lift his head and press a few kisses to your shoulder.

“I love you,” you whisper, reaching up to move some of the hair that’s sticking to his face. “I’d apologize for being a brat, but it turned out to work pretty damn well.”

“You are a brat but I’m good at handling it,” Eddie says with a soft smile. “And I love you too.”

“I feel like I need another shower,” you say, your sticky skin feeling attached to Eddie’s.

He looks up at you with those doe eyes and a cocky smile.

“Want some company?”

#eddie munson #older!eddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #request #roses collection

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illyrianbitch · 28 days

Text

What We Make of What We’re Made

Pairing: Acheron!Reader x Azriel

Summary: When Azriel overhears Feyre's concern about your transition to fae life, he agrees to check on you.

Warnings: mentions of previous trauma and hardship, fluff :)

Word Count: 3k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

“I’m worried about her, Rhys. Really worried.”

Although Feyre’s voice was quiet, Azriel could sense the worry that coated it from where he stood down the hallway, the sound of her voice leaking through the cracked door of Rhysand’s office. It was a quiet morning, lazy almost, as Azriel walked around the townhouse. His shadows danced along the walls next to him, matching the pace of his walking as he approached the open door.

“Worried about who?”

Feyre let out a small sound of surprise, turning her head towards where Azriel now stood, a delicate hand flying to place itself above her heart. Even with the time that passed, she never quite got used to how stealthy the shadowsinger could be, how easily he was able to quiet the sounds of his own footsteps with the lively shadows he called his own.

“Oh, Azriel,” Feyre said, giving him a small, soft smile. “Good morning.”

Az gave her a quick smile back, dipping his head ever-so-slightly in a gentle greeting. His gaze bounced between her and Rhys, who gave him a simple raise of his eyebrows in acknowledgement.

“Who are you worried about?” Azriel asked again.

Rhys and Feyre exchanged a meaningful glance, and then Feyre let out a small sigh, turning to look at Azriel once more. There was a small furrow in her brow as she fiddled with her fingers.

"Y/n," she confessed.

Azriel’s face softened, his mouth turning into a small downturned frown. He felt a subtle shift in his shadows, as if they had responded to the sound of your name. Faintly, he felt their airy, cool, touch on his body as their large mass rose up his arms. He felt them settle at his shoulders, perched— alert, almost– as if they, too, were attuned to the conversation.

"I see.”

"Feyre is concerned that she may be having a harder time becoming fae than she has let on," Rhysand explained.

The crease between Azriel’s brows grew deeper as his gaze flickered between the two before him.

"Why?”

Feyre sighed again, giving a small shrug. There was a certain look in her eyes, a look that Azriel traced back to the day the King of Hybern turned you and your sisters into fae— forced you into fae. It was a look he was familiar with, one he often wore himself: guilt.

It was no secret that Feyre felt responsible for what had happened to you and your sisters. Although she spent those first few months away, Feyre felt it in her heart, the struggle you had all experienced. And she felt the guilt even deeper knowing that she wasn’t there to help. She didn’t hide it as well as she thought she did, that certain fear that she clung to of her sisters never truly forgiving her for what she felt was a personal betrayal. Or, perhaps, Azriel was just too good at his job.

"I've barely seen her,” she said, “I know that Nesta and Elain are having a difficult time, but at least I can see them. Be near them—as much as Nesta may hate it."

Azriel blinked. And then an unfamiliar feeling began to gnaw at his heart. Feyre was right. You hadn’t been around recently. Az had noticed, of course, as he tended to keep track of those in his circle, of the people he was expected to protect— at least to a degree. And you had, indeed, been gone more often than you were home.

In fact, he struggled to remember the last time you sat with them for longer than a few minutes before rushing off. With a small exhale, Azriel sent a few of his shadows down his body and out the door, pushing them to check your bedroom and report back to him regarding anything that might be of use.

“Well, maybe we could send Azriel to check on her?”

The sound of Rhysand’s voice called Azriel’s attention back to the conversation, and he cleared his throat in hopes that the motion would clear his mind as well.

Feyre's eyes widened slightly as she brushed a gentle hand across Rhysand’s forearm, turning to look at Azriel with a faint smile. "That's a great idea. You've been so sweet to Elain, Az. Maybe you could help Y/n, too. Would you mind?"

Her voice held a note of hope and Az found himself nodding gently.

"Of course not," He replied, "But if she's struggling, am I really who she would want to see?"

Rhysand frowned slightly before looking down at his mate. But Feyre simply shook her head, offering a reassuring smile as she said, "I think you'd be a breath of fresh air.”

"And you could get a better read of where she's at,” Rhysand added, “Maybe how we can help.”

Azriel nodded once more. In the same moment, he felt a few of his shadows return, slowly snaking up his legs to join the mass near his shoulders. Your room was empty, as it turned out, and the bed was cold. Wherever you had gone, you’d left quite a while ago— and you left no notice of where it was that you were running off to.

"I'll find her," Azriel affirmed. With a final nod to Rhysand and Feyre, he turned and left the room, his shadows trailing behind him.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It was nearing the later months of the year now, and there was a cool breeze that filled the air, not quite chilly enough to make him shiver, but enough of a nip to make the warmth of his leathers comforting. Azriel loved this time of year, loved the way the breeze kissed his cheeks and how refreshing it felt against his wings. It was a good time of year, a time to take a breath and prepare to start new— he quite loved the second part, the promise of a new start, of a chance to be better than who he was before.

Az slowly walked along the Sidra, his wings carefully and neatly tucked into his back. His posture was lazy, a small hunch in his shoulders as scanned his surroundings. He made himself as small as possible, not wanting to take up too much space, or worse, scare those around him. Specifically, he didn’t want to scare you if he happened to come across you.

But that was proving difficult at the moment. In truth, Az didn’t know where to look. His shadows were on alert, told to seek out any sign of you, any indication of where you might have disappeared to. He thought of all the quiet places nearby, of the corners in Velaris that may provide some darkness to shrewd in. But nothing quite came to mind. He let his thoughts wander as he continued his path.

Azriel felt guilty.

Sure, you weren’t his responsibility, but you were part of his family now— a sister of Feyre, of his High Lady. You were his to protect. And while Cassian had been working with Nesta, or attempting to and being shot down, Az had been tiptoeing around Elain when he wasn’t assessing the court for any more help needed for post-war rebuilding. Things had been quiet recently. And he had assumed, apparently wrongfully so, that you and your sisters would be able to properly acclimate now, to learn how to live as fae. He couldn’t speak much for Nesta, as she had distanced herself as soon as she could, but Elain— Elain had made slight progress. She was moving around the house, tending to her garden.

But you. You, he had not truly analyzed. There had been Nesta’s anger, Elain’s helplessness and utter fear, and you…. you had been silent. And ever since, you’d found something to busy yourself with— perhaps some distraction from the pain you’d forced yourself to deal with alone, he thought.

He should have kept a better eye. He had failed you, had failed his family.

He felt the faint, cool tug on his body, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Azriel clenched his teeth in frustration, stopping in his tracks as he looked down at his shadows once more, watching as few slithered towards the edge of the shops that lined the Sidra, the other shadows dancing around his wrists as if enticing him to follow.

He attempted to call them back, reel them in like energetic children, but they refused, continuing to veer off course and drawing his attention to a particular figure seated outside a quaint cafe. He threw the female a quick glance, taking in her sapphire coat and her hair tucked within it. He looked down at his shadows.

Stop it, Az scolded. Stay on track. Find Y/n.

But yet again, his shadows danced in between the cobblestoned roads towards the female.

She sat with her back to Az, her laughter ringing out like a melody amidst the chatter of the busy street. She was engaged in conversation with, who Az assumed was, the cafe owner, her gestures animated as the two talked.

Azriel paused. And then the female was moving her hands to her neck, lifting her hair and freeing it from where it lay underneath her coat. Instantly, a small breeze kissed Azriel’s nose, and he was hit with a scent of sweetness that had his wings falling slightly limp behind him.

It smelled like…you?

He slowly moved forward, brows furrowed together as he approached the female from behind.

The shop owner's conversation faltered as she took in Azriel's approaching figure, the words she had been speaking instantly dying off her tongue. Her eyes went wide for a moment before her face softened, and she offered a polite nod of acknowledgment.

From in front of him, you turned around, your head tilting up to meet Azriel’s eyes instantly.

And then you smiled.

His confusion deepened as he watched you, his previous expectations shattered by the sight of what Azriel could only describe as…joy.

“Azriel!” You said, “What are you doing here?”

Azriel’s eyes flickered between you and the shop owner as he swallowed.

“I-” He hesitated for a moment. His shadows danced around him. Happy, Joy, Content. “Feyre sent me.”

Your face fell into a small frown and you turned your head to face the shopkeeper once more.

“It was so nice talking with you, Liena,” you said softly, “And thank you so much for the treats.”

You motioned to a small empty plate before you, and the female smiled at you, leaning forward to grab it with her small hands. “Please come by anytime. We’re glad to have you here.”

You smiled at her, watching as she retreated back into her quaint little shop. Then, you turned to look up at Azriel once more.

“Feyre sent you?” You asked, “For me?”

Az nodded, eyes quickly flickering down to where his shadows seeped to trail near your ankles, he clenched his jaw slightly as he urged them to return, a sense of heated embarrassment filling his body— a sensation he wasn’t used to. Had never felt before, really.

“She's worried about you,” he finally managed to reply.

Az took a step back as you pushed your chair out, gently standing up and turning to face him. There was a gentle smile on your face, but your brows were furrowed as you stared at him through dark lashes. You brought your hand to your chest, hovering it over your heart. Just as Feyre does, Azriel noted. One and the same.

“She is?”

There was a trace of concern in your voice, but it wasn’t in the way he had expected. You seemed concerned that Feyre was worried— concerned as if she had no reason to be worrying at all. Azriel took a moment to scan your features, taking in your face, the way you stood, the clothes that adorned your figure.

You were beautiful, Azriel knew this. He had noticed it when he first met you and your sisters, standing with his brothers and Feyre. But comparing that female he first met to the one that now stood before him… the similarities were almost hard to find. You were glowing. There was a pink tint that coated your cheeks, the faint blush that painted your skin from the cool breeze. Your skin was full of color that had been missing those first few weeks after you’d been Made, and you wore a gentle smile that held a heavy warmth to it.

Happy, Joy, Content.

“She is,” he responded, “You’ve been gone a lot recently. She was concerned that you were struggling with being fae.”

You blinked, your mouth falling open slightly as you took in his words, and then your brows furrowed deeper.

“Oh my gods,” you said quietly, “I didn’t realize what Feyre might think.”

You let out a small sigh, gently tugging your bottom lip between your teeth. Azriel simply looked at you, his mind drawing blanks of what he could say. He couldn’t form the right words, at least not while his energy was being spent on pulling his shadows away from your body and back into his.

‘I know my sisters are struggling. And I was too,” you quickly added, “but I woke up one day and suddenly the sunshine seemed brighter and its rays were warmer, and all the sounds around me were more melodic than I’d ever heard.”

You stopped for a moment, grabbing a strand of your hair in your hands to twirl between your fingers before you continued. “I don’t know how else to describe it. And I didn’t want to be so happy around them. It felt wrong— like if I was betraying them somehow, for enjoying what we had been forced to become. So I stayed out of the house. At least, at the beginning. But now?”

You stopped again, but this time you made a soft gesture with your hand to your surroundings, too lost in your words to notice how a single shadow managed to hover around your extended hand. Azriel kept his gaze on you, unwavering and focused as you smiled once more, a small laugh leaving your lips. Without noticing, the corners of his lips turned up at the sound.

“Azriel, this city is beautiful. I would have never been able to experience something like this as human. We were unhappy, simply existing rather than living. But here? The food, the music, the energy.”

You fiddled with your hands as you shook your head gently, the smile never leaving your face.

“What happened to my family, to Nesta, to Elain, to Feyre,” you said, moving closer to look up at him. “It was cruel. And it wasn’t beautiful. But what I make of myself after it? That can be beautiful.”

There was something about the words that you spoke, how genuine your face was as you stared at him, that made Azriel’s heart clench. He felt silly, truly, for the sudden rush of emotion that washed over him like a tidal wave. You were happy, thriving even, and you’d been too worried about your sisters to share the joy. It was a different kind of selflessness than what he’d grown accustomed to seeing, a kind that he’d only seen in one other recently— your sister. His High Lady.

Happy, Joy, Content. His shadows sang once again. Happy, Joy, Content.

“I’m sorry Feyre sent you all this way for nothing. “

“No,” Azriel quickly said, much faster than he intended to. His gaze casted down towards the outstretched hand that he had instinctively placed on your shoulder. He quickly retracted it, not failing to notice the small frown that passed through your features. “It wasn’t a waste.”

You gave him a small laugh. “Well, anyways. I’m sorry for spewing that all onto you like some sick toddler. Thank you for coming to find me. It was very sweet.”

You cleared your throat, taking a step back.

“Please let Feyre know I’m alright and that I’ll be back tonight. But I’d like to explore a bit more. The weather is perfect today. Something about how…” You trailed off for a moment, looking up at the skies above you, closing your eyes for a second as a trail of wind swept past your face.

“The way the breeze kisses your cheeks?” Azriel said, his voice quiet and unsure. Where those words came, and what overcame him to say them, he wasn’t sure. But he didn’t feel like questioning them— not now, anyways.

You opened your eyes and looked at him once more. “Yes. Exactly.”

A small cool touch drew your attention down to your feet, your eyes watching as small, opaque tendrils of black shadows danced between you and Azriel. You admired them for a moment, and Az took in how excited your eyes were as you traced their motions.

“Well,” you said, straightening yourself up. “Thank you again for coming to find me. I’ll let you get back to your day.”

You gave a small nod before you were turning yourself around and walking towards the lively streets. As Azriel watched his shadows trail after you, he found himself calling out to your retreating form, “Y/n.”

You stopped. And then you turned to face him, arms now crossed against your chest. You tilted your head as he gave you a small, almost unsure, smile.

“Would you like me to show you around?”

You paused for a moment, as if you were considering the offer. He felt a flicker of fear in his gut, a new sense of embarrassment at the idea of you rejecting him. Perhaps he had intruded on your newfound freedom, placed himself where he shouldn’t be. But it was only an offer, was it not? And-

His thoughts died down as you smiled at him, your cheeks raising at the movement.

“Well then, what are you doing standing all the way over there for? I expect a full tour.”

Azriel let out a small chuckle, a fluttering sensation filling his chest as he followed the trail his shadows led to you.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria

1K notes · View notes

mischiefmanagers · 7 months

Text

Azriel Fic Rec Library 🦇💙

In no particular order, here's an extensive list of Azriel x Reader or Azriel x OC fics that I've compiled for those who can't get enough of him. I literally maxed out the number of tags/links you can include on a post for this 😂

🌼 personal favorite 🥀 angst 💞 fluff 🔥 smut

by @acourtofmenandthirst

You Called 🥀💞

by @moonlightazriel

Before you 🔥🥀

The truth about you 🥀💞🔥

The family we choose 💞

by @thelov3lybookworm

I Didn't Ask For This 🌼🥀

Finally Safe 🌼🥀

My brother. 💞

by @writingsbychlo

SWEET LIKE SUGAR 🌼💞🥀

false confessions 🌼🥀

how we survive 🥀

by @readychilledwine

Slow Hands 🌼💞🔥

Bound by Fate 🌼🥀💞🔥

Little Bat, Big Dreams 💞

Beauty in Pain 🥀

Devotion 💞

by @leafsandstarlight

Forced Revelations

by @lalacliffthorne

the basic rules of friendship 💞🔥

motorcycle 💞

by @bubbles-for-all-of-us

Hear the lonely cry out 🥀

Can you love me most? 🥀

Baby daddy 💞

by @draemgal

master of disguise 💞

by @azsazz

Nightlight 🥀

Wrong Side of the Right Coin Azriel x Reader x Eris 🥀

Just Hold On 🥀💞

What Lies Ahead

Bleed for Me

by @xoxonyxx

What Should've Been 💞

by @illyrian-dreamer

Spin the bottle 💞🥀

Our girl Azriel x Cassian x Reader 🥀

by @acourtofwhatthefuck

Practice On Me 💞🔥

by @danikamariewrites

Sixth Sense 💞

Shell 💞

Fever Dreams 🥀💞

Please Don't Go 🥀💞

Pointless Fights 🥀

Perfect Princess 💞

by @lidiasloca

more than this 🥀

by @tadpolesonalgae

please... 🌼🥀

washing his wings 💞

Can't Bring Myself To Hate You 🌼🥀🔥

His Personal Assistant

by @mother-above

The Golden Warrior 🌼

by @aquanova99

The Shadow and the Seraphim

by @fieldofdaisiies

Oh Those Romance Novels 🔥

Love's A Burden 🥀

by @ellievickstar

Between Two worlds

by @florence-end

Worst kept secret 💞

Stitch up

by @redheadspark

Reunited 💞🥀

Hold 🥀💞

by @acourtofmarvels

Miracle 🥀

by @bookish-whore

Haunted 🥀

by @honeybeefae

7 Minutes In Heaven 🔥🔥

Shadows of Fire Azriel x Reader x Eris 🔥🔥

by @reverie-verse

Ooops Mating Bond 🌼💞

by @cassiefromhell

Unexpected Azriel x Reader x Eris 💞🥀

by @ladylokilaufeyson5

A Little Helping Hand 🌼💞

I Will Always Find You 💞🥀

by @azrielhours

Soft Spot 🌼🔥💞

I want you to rest 💞🥀

Kiss Thief 💞

Soul Song 💞

Restless Dreams 🥀

Stolen Away 💞

Waiting for You 💞🥀

by @liahaslosthermind

Swarming children and elbows to the face 💞

by @itsphoenix0724

Tickle My Strings 🔥

by @jeannineee

Apology 💞

Umbra et Ventus

Blue and Red Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Stubble 💞

Illyrian Babies Azriel x Cassian x Reader 💞

Closure 🥀🔥

by @violette-hue

Fated 🔥

by @angelshadowsinger

Supposed to Be Together 🥀🔥

Prized Possession 🥀💞

by @callmeblaire

little friends 💞

by @fairydustblossom

tied to you 🥀💞

losing control🥀💞

pre relationship fluff 💞

by @throneofsapphics

up all night Azriel x Reader x Cassian 💞

by @arrantsnowdrop

Starlight 💞

Wrongly Accused 🥀🔥💞

by @clairebear08

Hide and Seek 💞

Betrayal 🥀

by @starlightandsouls

My Angel 💞

Yours To Keep And Cherish 💞

Bookshop Brawls 💞

by @azrielscrown

the secret of seduction 💞🔥

wake me up. 💞

by @glittergelpensblog

Shadow and Song

In the Dark

by @azriels-shadowsinger

brother's best friend 💞

by @xreaderbooks

Two sides 🥀

by @vacant--body

stay with me 🥀🔥

by @whisperingmidnights

We Shall Become Monsters 🌼

by @wishfulwithwine

You Belong With Me 🥀

by @queen--of--shadows

Healing Shadows 🌼

by @ochiolism

winter's frost

2K notes · View notes

assassinsblade · 5 months

Text

Forget Me Not

After a night out with your friends, Azriel forgets to take you back home, resulting in a night that will forever change your life and your friendship.

WC: 2.5k

Warnings: TW: SA!!! Please do not read if this is triggering for you. It does not go into a lot of detail but it will in future parts. Blood, injury, death, angst, feelings, unrequited love.

Part 2

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

Blood dripped from your fingertips, the hot slippery texture making your stomach churn. You could hear nothing, feel nothing, but the liquid wetting your hands and the clang of the dagger falling to the pavement at your feet.

Your breathing was ragged, the body slumped to the ground two feet in front of you becoming obscured by the cloud of your hot breath in the cold winter air. Oh, gods - oh, gods. You tried to swallow, but your throat stung, it ached, and your shaking hands didn't know what to do, your feet numb and stuck in place.

And all your brain could process at the moment was that despite the cold winds, despite the light dusting of snow intermittently making its way to the rooftops of Velaris, you didn't feel cold. Your clothes were shredded, falling in tatters from your body, your skin wet with blood, tears, and spit. But you felt like you were burning alive.

Rationally, you knew you were panicking. You were going into shock. But what did you know about preventing your body from succumbing to it? What did you know about killing?

"Help me," you choked out, barely a whisper leaving your cracked and bloody lips. "Please, someone-"

And then your shaking body was sliding down the wall it was previously pinned to, the stone architecture scraping against your open back. A hand covered your mouth as your eyes refused to leave the body in front of you, trying to steady your breaths, make sense of the situation that so quickly unfolded after leaving Rita's alone. Tears blurred the sight of the male, but the red covering his neck and chest was unavoidable.

You had gone to Rita's with the group, spending the night sipping on drinks and laughing with Rhys, Feyre, Cassian, Nesta, Azriel, Elain, and Mor. It was a night you were looking forward to - you rarely saw Azriel anymore, and this night was a chance for you to soak in his presence again. To soak in the comfort he brought, the feelings of safety and joy, his beauty springing butterflies in your gut and warming your cheeks. But that's not how the night went at all. Instead, couples latched onto one another, Mor left with a pretty female in hand, and before you knew it, you were left with Azriel and Elain, Mor asking Azriel to winnow you home when you were good to go on her way out.

You didn't blame Mor. She had brought you there that night, but she had made sure you had a safe way home. That you wouldn't have to climb 10,000 steps to make it to your bed at the end of the night.

You did blame Azriel, however. Because he heard Mor. He nodded, and then he had left with Elain while you were in the bathroom, leaving you stranded in a newer environment, in a newer city, lifestyle, not nearly comfortable yet navigating through anything completely alone. You had only arrived in the Night Court a few months ago, brought by Mor from the Court of Nightmares. An old family friend who had not forgotten you or your horrendous family.

In those months, you had stayed close to Mor and became friends with the rest of the inner circle, even going as far as having Cassian give you some defense lessons - which might have just saved your life tonight. But it was Azriel who caught your attention, who made your heart yearn and reach out for someone who did not tear his gaze away from the middle Archeron sister.

And tonight was a prime example of that. Of how embarrassing you were. The shadowsinger was obviously infatuated with Elain, to the point of not even noticing your presence. He was a spymaster, and he didn't even see you. He didn't even care about your safety or wellbeing at the end of the night.

Maybe this was what your heart needed to move on. To stop hopelessly longing after him like a little girl with a crush. You had needed him to reject you, to hurt you, to forget about you. You had needed something to disrupt your perfect view of him.

And now you had it.

"Hey, hey-" Someone was gripping your face gently, their thumbs turning your face toward their own instead of the one lifelessly looking at you. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

How long had he been there? How long had he been trying to get your attention? You could only blink at Cassian in response, swallowing hard.

The movement sent a fresh wave of blood trickling down your neck and Cassian's eyes met the movement, a curse leaving his lips. His palm was instantly on the soft skin, putting pressure on the gash the male had left on you. Cassian looked the rest of you over, his jaw tightening at your body more covered in blood than clothes. Quickly, he placed your own palm to your neck.

"I need you to put pressure on that. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?" His hand covered your own, pushing hard on your knuckles to show you.

When you only remained locked onto his chest, your attention unmoving since he arrived, he hesitantly removed his grip on your hand, quickly removing his coat to wrap around your shoulders.

You could barely feel the soft material meeting your skin. You felt both cold and on fire, your vision both hyperfocused and wavering, your ears both ringing and too clear.

"I'm going to pick you up now, alright? We'll get you back to the house. You're safe now."

At your lack of response, his brows dipped further in concern. But he flexed his knuckles to control his own worry and fear, slipping an arm under your knees and cradling your back with his other. He was careful to turn you in a way that allowed his body to shield the dead male from view.

Then he was shooting up into the air, his grip on you both tight with protection and light with care, and that's what finally made the tears start to fall from your eyes, a cracking sob breaking from your throat.

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

When Cassian landed at the House of Wind, he rushed inside, hoping Rhys was already there waiting with Madja.

He had been unable to sleep that night, despite Nesta and himself having a good night out and returning semi-early to settle in. So he had taken a quick flight, tried to tire out his wings and body to help him rest easier. Instead, he was met with the overwhelming smell of blood as he flew over an alleyway in Velaris. He wasn't prepared to see you of all people in that alleyway.

Cassian had basically tried to scream his thoughts to Rhys or Feyre, whoever could hear him. Normally Rhys would let his presence known first, as if he had to make an effort, to appear, before the thoughts would drift to him. But Cassian also knew that Feyre had once pushed her thoughts so heavily onto Rhysand that they found him from a different court. So Cassian yelled in his mind. Begged Rhysand and Feyre to wake up and get Madja.

But when he got to the House of Wind, Rhysand wasn't there yet, and you were unconscious in his arms. He wasn't sure if you passed out from your hyperventilating sobs, from the shock, or if you truly had lost that much blood. He couldn't tell how much of the blood on you was yours or the dead male's.

Cassian barged into the main living area, his own dark shirt sticking to his skin as it absorbed the blood on your body.

He had just kicked your bedroom door open with his foot when he heard Azriel appear before him, his hair slightly mussed with sleep.

"What's going on?"

Cassian didn't answer as Azriel took in your form, too busy making his way to your bed and laying you down gently. His feet working before his mind could, storming into the adjoined bathroom to get a small towel to hold against your neck.

"Cassian." Azriel's tone was deeper now, his voice hard and rough.

But then Rhys was there, winnowing into the middle of the room with the healer in tow. His eyes immediately locked onto Cassian, and the general froze in place, ignoring the shadowsinger's plea as he felt Rhysand at the edge of his mind.

Cassian couldn't find it in himself to feel bad for Azriel at the moment. All of his own sympathy and guilt were going toward you, even if his brother looked absolutely grief-stricken.

He showed Rhys what he had seen when he entered the alleyway. He showed him the dead body he saw, still laying cold and lifeless out there on the pavement, a few feet from the gleaming dagger by your foot. He showed him the blood that trickled from your wound, the tattered clothes hanging from you before being replaced by his coat, the shock permeating your features.

And Cassian could tell as soon as he was finished that Rhys wished to go into your own mind as well. But he held himself back. Cassian knew this was for your privacy, that the high lord would ask you once you awoke if you would be willing to share anything, if you needed anything. So for now, they remained helpless.

They remained helpless and angry for their forgotten friend.

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

Azriel stood there anxiously watching as his two brothers conversed without him, as Cassian showed Rhys what had occurred, what he had found. And he was left to stand there and watch as Madja quickly worked over your beaten and half naked body.

Your white cropped sweater was soaked red where it wasn't torn, the comforting fuzzy fabric now matted down. The gash on your neck slowly began to bubble with blood instead of drip down your neck. But this did nothing to reassure the shadowsinger. Your lip was split, your cheekbone and undereye cut open and beginning to bruise. And as Azriel's gaze drifted lower, he physically had to steady himself on his feet. His mind roared, his vision turning red as he took in the sight of your black pants, unbuttoned.

Azriel was breathing heavily, trying to contain his rising emotions. His fists clenched, his feet begging him to move, to do something.

As soon as Rhys' gaze moved to you, his jaw clenching, Azriel was speaking, the words coming out through clenched teeth. "Someone tell me what the hell happened."

Rhys only looked at you. It was silent for far too long before the high lord's smooth voice cut into the once cozy room. "Why was she alone."

The words did not come out as a question but as a demand. A high lord commanding an answer.

Azriel felt his stomach drop. Rhys and Feyre had left Rita's first, followed by Cassian and Nesta. Which left Mor and Azriel responsible for escorting Elain and you home. His mind replayed Mor's request to him as she grabbed her things. Get her home safe, will you?

And Azriel had agreed. He had agreed and then left. The look of devastation and self-hatred on the shadowsinger's face was enough to answer the high lord's question.

"Everyone get out. Let Madja do her work," was all Rhysand said though. And Azriel wished one of them would hit him, because somehow the disappointment drifting through the room was so much worse.

He had forgotten about you. He had been so fixated on Elain that he had left you to walk through Velaris in the middle of the night alone. He had expected you to somehow find your way back to the House of Wind, to climb 10,000 steps after drinking. And someone had...

Azriel felt like he was going to be sick.

He had been late to saving countless people. There were so many deaths and injuries on his shoulders, sometimes he found it difficult to breathe with their weight. But he always tried. He took honor in protecting his friends, in guarding the borders of Velaris, in protecting his court. Never has something of this sort happened because of him.

Azriel felt Cassian's hand grip his shoulder lightly, guiding him out of your room. He wished he could get one last breath of your scent, to make sure you were there and alive and alright, but all he could smell was the metallic scent of your blood. The scent stuck to his nostrils as Cassian guided him out onto the landing of the house, like he knew by Azriel's expression what was coming.

And then the shadowsinger turned to the side, dodging his brother, and emptied his stomach onto the concrete.

There were tears in his eyes when he finished, but he stayed hunched over, gripping his chest. "What have I done?"

Cassian was quiet for a moment before sighing, his grip on Azriel's shoulder tightening. "You are not the male down in that alleyway. You don't take blame for his crimes."

But Azriel shook his head, squeezing his eyes tight as he tried to get the image of your assaulted body out of his mind. "I was supposed to take her home. I left her there, Cassian."

And then Cassian was speechless, his brows furrowing as he watched him unravel, unsure of what to say.

"Oh, gods," Azriel got out, his knees giving out beneath him as the weight of the situation settled over him. His sobs breaking through the quiet night around them.

"I'm sorry-" Azriel repeated over and over, not even feeling Cassian move to crouch next to him in an attempt to comfort the devastated male. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Cassian only shushed him, but Azriel couldn't stop as his chest cleaved open underneath his fingertips, as he imagined the confusion and hurt that flowed through you when you realized he had left, the anxiety and weariness as you tried to find your way home, the fear at the male approaching you.

All while he was with Elain, soaring through the sky and gazing at stars.

He had never hated himself more.

And he could never make this up to you.

#azriel x reader #azriel angst #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fic #acotar imagine #azriel/reader #azriel x you #acotar x reader

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roseglazedlens · 6 months

Note

Nanami baby fever 👁👁?

The user is female and has a kid already, but he likes, Why not other kids? What could be so wrong with that since user kidcis such a sweetheart?

⦑ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⦒ ✧.*

NANAMI KENTO X FEM! READER synopsis: you've been busy, so Nanami organises you a day off to help you relieve some pent up stress. content: 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈, reader is a mom, daddy kink, size kink, creampie, breeding kink, fingerbashing, cervix penetration, mating press, overstimulation, nipple play, praise, pet name (princess). a/n: thank you for requesting dear anon!! i love writing aggressive + soft nanami sm, hope you'll enjoy this! « 1.8 k words┇masterlist┇reblogs appreciated! »

You’re trying to take a relaxing afternoon nap. Nanami Kento doesn’t. His hand is running down your body as you lay, exploring and squeezing you in ways that are less than chaste in your eyes.

“Kento, w-what are you doing?” He moves closer, his front flushing against your back, and you feel the hardness of his chest muscles untense in your warmth.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you.” Nanami draws out a whisper into your ear that resembles a low grunt. Something is nudging you on your thighs, and he uses this opportunity to round his arms around your body, reaching your breasts. They pert at his touch, and you let out a soft sound of relaxation. The firm pads of his fingers press against the plush, before coming together to roll them lazily against your nipple.

“Wh-Where’s all this coming from?” You whisper back even though there’s no one else in the house but you two. Nothing to hide. No reason to hold yourself back. But yet you do, especially when it comes to Nanami, he strips every remains of composure off your body. His other hand comes down to your belly, smoothing over with a gentle pressing grip until his fingertips crawl right above your underwear.

“I haven’t tasted you in so long. Since all the volunteering, the parent teacher interviews. I’m done waiting. Take these off.” Nanami hooks at your panties, pull on them and let it snap back against you.

“Oh, is that why you took my daughter to daycare? Is that what this is?”

“And? I have ulterior motives, so what.” Nanami knows what he wants, and he sure isn’t embarrassed by it. And right now, he wants nothing more than to feel himself inside of you. His fingers pick on your underwear once more, signalling you to lift your hips so he can pull them down to your ankles. “I can’t fucking wait anymore.” Nanami smirks, running two fingers up the length of your cunt that earns you a shiver. “Neither can you, it seems.”

You help him take off his glasses so you can see him clearer. When you do, his lustful eyes are still fixated on your body. Admiring the beauty you are in his life, speaking millions of promises to make you happy in the bedroom and beyond the bedroom with his gaze alone. That sincerity somehow makes your clit jump, but Nanami isn’t done preparing you yet.

He runs a few lazy circles along your clit, then getting impatient, places a finger inside of you, exploring the depths of you that clenches hard in attempts to fill the gap. He revels in the fact he’s making your back arch and heart race without even trying. Imagine how you will react when he does try.

Nanami’s cock is getting impatient too, his dick cramped inside his boxers begging to see your lewd face too. With the other hand that’s not occupying you, Nanami takes off the button of his pants, unzipping it to let his dick spring free onto his blue dress shirt. His other hand is not slacking either, fingerbashing into you relentlessly to let the slick of your desire permeate the air. Your cunt is drenching his finger, sucking him in, like you are desperately trying to make Nanami’s finger come.

“Fuckin’ hell, princess… Save some for me…” He cusses, removing his fingers inside you, and you let out of groan of refusal.

Your hole wants him, wants him to fill the void inside of you. Nanami rolls over on top of you, lifting both of your legs up to put over the shoulders of his shirt, now crumpled from all the action. He takes in the sight first, letting out a whistle of delight with a devillish glint in his eyes—one that he reserves only for you to see—before he lines up against you.

You feel his tip inside of you first, pussy already grasping at whatever he can give you. Your attempts at lifting and dropping your hips in desperation for more friction leaves you unsatisfied. That is when Nanami smiles, knows, and stops the teasing to indulge in your desires.

He ruts in you, difficult at first, but your body accomodates to his size soon enough.

“God… Just because I haven’t fucked your brains out in two weeks, you’re getting tighter… So you like it when daddy’s dick is too big for you?” Somehow when Nanami refers to himself as daddy, it makes your body react, pulling back your legs closer to your body for him to fuck you deeper. And he obeys, your walls wrapping tightly around him as he fucks you closer to your cervix.

“Fuck, nnh, that's it princess. Takin' me so well. You really want daddy to force himself into your tiny fucking hole and plant his seed inside of you?” Nanami's arms presses your legs down even further now, your knees almost touching shoulders, and you are pleasantly surprised to find how flexible you can be with some dick as your motivation.

“I'm going to make you into a real daddy, Kento.” Between his deep thrusts, the words slip from the back of your throat. Perhaps it's from the adrenaline of the moment. Perhaps that's how you genuinely felt. You don't know yet.

“Ohh, princess, don't make promises you can't keep.” Nanami is grinning and isn't against the idea. “But if you ever get knocked up, I'll love you, cherish you, make you the happiest mama ever.”

“Fuck...” You groan, a buzzing sensation shakes violently in your belly. Hands weakening, breath erratic, you're so close to the edge and you have to keep going.

“Hmm, does that mean you want me to cum inside?”

You ignore him, not giving Nanami the satisfaction of you saying yes, instead focusing on your belly at the knot of pleasure.

“Come on, princess. Don't get all shy on me now. You don't want me to stop now, do you?” Nanami slows his thrusts, too slow for your orgasm to reach anywhere.

“Don't stop. Please.” You meet Nanami's eyes, still playful. Still waiting for your answer. “Fine... I want you to cum inside.”

“Such an honest girl. Such a good girl for me.” And this is when he takes your breath away, plunging deep into you with newfound speed and eagerness. His dick is bumping into your cervix now, over and over and over again, until all that escapes your lips are filthy cries of your orgasm and gasping breaths of his name.

But Nanami isn't stopping yet. He's almost there, so close. Your overstimulated fluids that coat around his dick is the world's best lubricant to fuck you in till you can't walk. Then, his orgasm washes over him too, thick white ropes of his come spilling uncontrollably inside you with intention to make you his forever.

Nanami sighs, now heaving frantic breaths through the air as you both lie back onto your bed. You roll around, helping Nanami out of his sweat stained shirt that's probably a little too uncomfortable after their activity.

“Did you mean everything you said just now?”

“That I love you and want a kid with you? Of course.”

“It's a lot of work you know. Having kids. You sure you're ready for that?”

“With you, I'm ready for anything.” He brings himself forward to land a chaste kiss on your lips. His hand comes down to your belly to give it a gentle rub. “You already have experience with kids. How hard could this be?”

“Oh, you'd be very surprised.”

“Then I better start learning now.”

thanks for reading! come check out my other works. —yours truly, rose. tags: @kennedyswhore @emilzke @j3llyd0nut @ovaryacted © roseglazedlens — please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 7 months

Text

Practice On Me — Part Seven — Azriel x Reader

Note: I hope you enjoy this part because I’m not overly happy with how it’s written, I don’t know why 😭probably just me being a DUMBASS. Also, it’s still not letting me tag some of you 😩anyone know why?

Summary: The Bat Boys are worried about reader. Cassian’s getting a little suspicious of Kaeda. Azriel is really, really missing his friend.

Word count: 7k.

Warnings: Some injury detail.

“He cannot do this. Surely, he cannot fucking do this.”

Azriel slams his fist on the table so hard that ale sloshes over the lip of a mug. The atmosphere in the mead hall is unusually calm tonight. There’s more laughter than arguing, and some dickhead with a lute is even providing the attendants with music. But at the centre table, a cloud of doom darkens the mood.

Everyone has wisely given Rhys, Cassian and Azriel a wide berth.

Tensions are high. Something’s got to give.

“His role in this camp is to oversee our training.” Az balls his fists. “Not to get involved with how we spend our time outside of it.” He eyes Cass and Rhys opposite him. “Right?”

“Technically, yes.” Rhys confirms. “But as the overseer of said training, he also has the authority to remove any distractions as he sees fit.”

“Distractions? She’s our friend, not a fucking toy—”

“I’m just putting it to you straight, Az. It’s the typical Illyrian attitude rearing its ugly head. All four of us made the decision to go to Fenlaros, and yet it’s the female who shoulders the blame.”

“It’s fucking ridiculous.” Cassian finally speaks up.

He hasn’t said much. Too busy thinking about last night.

Nobody knows a thing about that wild, impulsive fuck except him and Y/N. He plans to keep it that way. Not out of any sense of regret, but…he doesn’t know. His brain is ticking over.

He can’t help wondering something that’s never occurred to him before.

Is Y/N branded a certain way by Illyrian ideologies because the closest people to her are males? Has she unfairly gained a reputation — one that would be made worse if what she and Cassian had done became common knowledge?

He doesn’t want to be the reason she gets more shit thrown her way. He’s starting to think he should think harder before he acts. Maybe last night was a mistake. He can’t even see Y/N to talk it through with her.

“So what do we do?” Az is asking as Cass zones back in. “There’s got to be something. Do we take the matter to your father?”

Rhys cocks an eyebrow. “Be real for a second, Az. My father would laugh us out of Velaris. He doesn’t concern himself with trivial camp matters.”

“Y/N having to choose between an abusive household or perishing in the snow is not a trivial matter.”

“To him, it is. He’d tell Devlon to lead and do what he believes is right. Which, he already has, even if we don’t agree with it.”

“Well that’s bullshit. We can’t just lie down and do nothing—”

“I’m not saying that, Az—”

“What about your mother? She adores Y/N. Surely she could appeal to your father—”

“No. She’s pregnant. She stays out of this.”

“Then what do you suggest, Rhysand?”

“How about you start by explaining to Cass and I what’s gotten into you recently?”

Finally, Az has nothing to say. He goes silent. Still.

He stares back at his two friends like he can’t imagine why they would wonder such a thing.

And then he purses his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Cassian scoffs. “Please. Even I think you starting fights left and right has been extreme.”

“Fuck you. You’re totally exaggerating.”

Rhysand raises an eyebrow. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

“We’re just worried that your behaviour has changed since Kaeda came into the picture—”

“You know what I’m worried about?” Az snaps. “Our friend who is literally homeless as of this morning. That’s a little more important, don’t you think?”

Yes…and no. It’s not that Cassian and Rhys don’t agree. It’s just that…that all roads lead back to Kaeda. And that’s becoming a problem.

“We’re not just going to leave Y/N to deal with this alone, Az.” Rhys tells him. “We just need to be careful about how we deal with it. Devlon isn’t messing around. I don’t want us to cause her more trouble.”

As folds his arms. “So what do you suggest?”

“I’ll talk to Y/N’s friend — Vegha. I’m sure she can open her home to Y/N while we figure things out. Just don’t do anything impulsive or stupid.”

That seems to appease Az a little. He sits back in his chair — allows himself to be a bit more open.

Until Cass totally fucking ruins it and says, “And don’t go starting any more fights just to impress Kaeda.”

Az says again, “Fuck you.”

Cass returns a withering look. “Fuck you right back.”

“Productive.” Rhys comments, shaking his head. He pushes to his feet, and both his friends look round.

“Where are you going?” Az asks.

“To speak with Vegha.” Rhys tells him. “And don’t follow me. You two idiots will only make things worse.”

He has no idea how right he is.

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It starts with the fire going out. Always.

The door swings open hard enough to hit the wall, and freezing air envelops the place. Your father tracks snow into the house, and he smells so strongly of booze that it permeates the room and spreads like a sickness.

You are five years old. You like to draw things in the soot that coats the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. The house always feels untidy since mama stole away in the dead of night a year ago. You try to keep on top of the cleaning, but the damp and the cold makes your hands sore, your bones ache.

Every night, you sit with your hands in your lap and wait for your father to return home. If he’s coming back from the forge, he’s tired and in a bad mood. If he’s coming back from the mead hall or a tavern, he’s drunk and in a really bad mood.

Tonight is the latter. But not only is he drunk and in a bad mood — he’s also brought company.

Four other males. They’re all huge — too huge to fit into the house, you think. If they’ve come for food, there isn’t any. If they’ve come for comfort, there isn’t any of that, either.

But they’re looking at you, all four of them. And in some way, you know that it’s you they’ve come for.

“This is the one?” A male with reddish-brown hair asks.

“I have only one.” Your father answers, and he jerks a chin in your direction. “That is it.”

It.

“Scrawny. There’s barely anything of her.” A second male comments. “This won’t be difficult.”

“I always think that,” reddish-brown answers, “and then they start fighting back. Kicking and scratching.”

You may only be five, but you are not foolish. Something is very, very wrong. A sinister wave has swept your already-miserable home, and you are about to be swallowed up in it. You eye the four males with wide eyes and scoot back a little.

Reddish-brown is the leader. He folds his arms with an authoritative air and announces, “Pathorn and Yevmael can hold her down,” he turns to the second male, “you take one wing, and I’ll take the other.”

The male that steps towards you from the back has eyes as black as the soot in the hearth. His lips twitch up on one side, and he says, “Come here, then, little pup.”

You do not move.

“Come.” He repeats. “It won’t hurt…much.”

They laugh at that.

You tuck your dirty, bruised knees tightly into your chest and rest your chin atop of them. You say nothing, make no move.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” His friend at the back says, stalking over to you. “Just pick her up.”

He does exactly that — by the scruff of your neck. You yelp as he yanks you into the air, and on instinct, your arms are flailing, legs kicking, tiny wings flaring.

“Look at that.” Charcoal eyes sneers at those very wings. “It’s a fucking abomination.”

If this is a game, you don’t like it. You twist in the male’s grasp, try to wriggle free, and he growls a curse at you. You growl back — a fierce, fierce noise, you think. It makes the males laugh again.

“On the table.” Reddish-brown says. “Face-down.”

“Papa,” you fight, “papa, papa, papa.”

There comes no response. It’s then that you realise he’s removed himself from the room. Left you with these monsters.

“Quiet now, pup.” Charcoal eyes says. “This won’t take long.”

You want to scratch him, and you try, even though your nails are chewed and bitten, despite mama always telling you not to do that. But mama isn’t here now and neither is papa. It’s just strangers with angry faces. Strangers who want to hurt you.

You’re slammed down onto the table, and you let out a cry. Someone holds your legs down. Another person holds your arms.

You are five years old. You like to draw pictures in the soot that covers the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. You are utterly and totally alone.

“I hope you never thought about flying.” Reddish-brown steps up to you. “That day will never come.”

And then they begin hacking at your wings.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Your father takes you to a healer only when it’s almost too late. A fever scorches you head to toe. You think that mama returns to sit by your bedside, but that isn’t real. It’s a dream.

You’re too weak. You sleep fitfully on your front, because trembles wrack your body that continuously wake you up. You jerk every time the pain at your back gets too much.

The door opens, and you wonder if mama is returning again. You like that dream. But it’s your father, accompanied by the male who has been leaning over your weakened body for days.

“Will she live?” Your father asks.

“She will.” The healer tells him. “If she can fight off the infection.”

“Can’t you just give her a tonic, or something?”

“This is the worst wing clipping I have ever seen. There are ample healers in Illyria who are qualified to carry out the practice. What possessed you to instead leave her in the hands of a group of soldiers?”

“I will do with my child as I see fit.”

“You may no longer have a child, if she cannot fight this. Her life hangs in the balance.”

Your father makes a noise that sounds like a growl. He does that when you’re in his way, and he just wants to sit quietly without you lingering around him. “Give her a fucking tonic—”

“If she survives this,” the healer tells him, “she will be scarred and in pain for the rest of her life. You did not merely clip her wings. You butchered them. This is precisely why a healer should be the one to perform the procedure—”

Your body jerks with a fresh wave of pain, and you whimper. Both your father and the healer look over at you.

Your father’s lip curls, and he turns to the male once more. “Fix her.” He commands. “Because if you can’t, you’re helping me bury the body.”

No. The males will come back and put their hands on you again. They’ll bury a body. They’ll bury your body. They’re going to bury you. Soil will fall on your ruined wings, and when mama truly does come back, she’ll have only an unmarked grave to greet you at.

You try to move, but you’re strapped down. You whimper again.

Bury the body.

Bury the—

Your body lurches up.

Sweat slicks your skin. You press a hand to your forehead, but it’s cool, not burdened by fever. You’ve awoken like this every morning for the past week.

The dreams are burdening you a lot right now. The memories.

They remind you, at least, why you will not return to your father’s home. Even if you end up hunching yourself up in doorways and exhausting any other dire options.

You hear a noise from the doorway, and you rub the bleariness from your eyes. Illuminated by the dim light in the hall, a male leans against the doorframe. He watches you nonchalantly, biting into an apple. Green, not red.

“You were shouting in your sleep again.”

You heave a deep, slow sigh and rake your fingers through your hair. Sweat soaks the strands.

“You dream often about burying bodies, don’t you?” The male steps into the room. He flares his wings, and you try not to look at them. “You’re quite odd. I think I like it.”

“Get out, Markis.” You sigh again. “Stop watching me sleep. It’s strange.”

“Is it more or less strange than chanting about burying a body?” He smirks. “And you’re in my house, remember? You can’t tell me to get out.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my house, too, and I can.” Suddenly, Vegha is appearing. She swats her younger brother, and a slither of relief settles into you. “Stop bugging her, Markis. Go to the training rings, or something.”

Markis so clearly doesn’t want to leave. He eyes you, his gaze falling from your neck, down to the old, threadbare sweater that you’ve been sleeping in. It’s Azriel’s — still smells like him.

The intensity of the male’s gaze is uncomfortable. And after a week of tolerating it, you’re not sure you can any longer.

“Fine.” He swallows down a bite of apple. He sends you a leering smirk. “I’ll tell your friends you said hello.”

Vegha rolls her eyes. “Markis, just leave before I boil your entire head—

“I’m going, I’m going.”

The male strides out of the room, shooting you one last look over his shoulder. You should ignore it, because the idiot is just basking in the novelty of having a female under his roof that he’s not related to, but the discomfort has sunk itself under your skin, and you’re not sure you can live with it.

Which is a bit of a problem, considering there are no other avenues for you to explore, and have nowhere else to go.

Vegha shuts the door behind her brother and turns to you. “You slept fitfully again.”

“Yes.” You feel a little bad admitting it. It’s not her, nor her family home, nor the bed that’s the problem. It’s you. All you. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Of course, you do. I wish there was more I could do to help.”

“You’ve done more than enough, Vegha.”

She doesn’t look convinced. The worried streak in her eyes is an indicator of how terrible you look. And you know she’s just caring for you as your friend, but you can’t stand it. One more pitying glance may push you over the edge.

“I have to get to the crèche.” She tells you. “Can I get you anything before I leave?”

“No—thank you.” You sit up. “Listen…I won’t be here when you return home. I’m getting out of your hair today.”

She pauses. Studies you. “You’re not in my hair. You’re welcome to stay for as long as you need. Ignore Markis — he’s a cock.”

You breathe a soft laugh. But you can’t ignore Markis — not any longer. Just as you haven’t been able to ignore any of the males who have made the past week even more difficult than it already was.

Illyrian males are…are a sickness. They’re bred in violence and depravity. So few of them are good.

And if the past week without Azriel, Rhys and Cassian has taught you anything, it’s that to some degree, your exposure to such behaviours has always been muted, thanks to their protection. They’ve been a strong unit around you since you were eleven years old. Most males have been wise enough to steer clear and escape the wrath that would come down on them for messing with you.

But now you’re forbidden from seeing them, and you’re free game for any fucking male in this gods-forsaken place.

You need to be away from them. To be on your own.

“I know.” You answer Vegha. “And I appreciate you opening your home to me, I really do. But it’s fine — I’ve made other arrangements.”

The look she gives you is dubious. She doesn’t believe you, and rightfully so — it’s total bullshit. “You have?”

“I have.” You dip your chin. “I’ll be just fine.”

“…well I’m glad to hear it. You’ll come right back here if those plans fall through, right?”

“Of course I will.” No.

She hesitates at the door. She’s been nothing but kind and accommodating to you — a real friend.

But it’s bad enough not being able to escape the males that haunt your dreams. There’s a damn good reason for you staunchly refusing to return to your father. You will not swap one monster for another.

“I’ll see you soon, then.” Vegha studies you. There’s a sadness in her brown eyes. She genuinely cares. “Take care, Y/N.”

“I will.” You force a breezing smile. “And you, also.”

She inclines her head, and then she’s slipping out of the room. The silence only gives way for your too-near dreams to dig their claws in. You scrub your hands harshly over your face and push to your feet.

You don’t know where you’ll go. It’s tempting to ignore Lord Devlon’s warning and race back to the cottage. Drama may await you there — a total mess that you somewhat made for yourself — but at least you’d be warm and safe while facing it.

You can’t — you know you can’t. You don’t want Az or Cass or Rhys to face any consequences.

So after you get yourself ready and gather what little stuff you have, you head out into the snow and hope you won’t be sleeping in it that night.

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Azriel strikes at the sparring dummy as if it fucked his wife and stole his seat at the dinner table.

The damn things are supposed to be bolted to the ground, but a couple of bolts are no match against the fearsome shadowsinger.

He strikes and strikes until the object is more or less obliterated, because fuck the sparring dummy, that’s why. Fuck the sparring dummy, and fuck Lord Devlon, and fuck—

“I think you made your point.” A trilling voice cuts through his red mist of rage. “How about you set the sword down and have some water?”

Perhaps it’s just Azriel’s anger thinking for him, but he doesn’t feel that Kaeda has been particularly helpful from where she’s perched atop a smooth rock. She cleans her nails with the tip of a dagger and stretches her wings out around her.

Across the ring, Cassian watches and turns to Rhysand. “Why is she allowed to be here, but Y/N isn’t?”

Rhys shrugs his tense shoulders. He doesn’t know the answer.

The two of them step closer to where their brother is trying to breathe through his fury. He’s not coping so well.

See, Azriel has experience with missing things. He misses his mother all the time. Sometimes it’s a dull ache, manageable amongst the mundane comings and goings of life. Other times, it hurts so bad that he doesn’t think clawing his chest open would be too extreme a reaction. Missing a person is a sensation that knits itself under his skin and seeps into the marrow of his bones. It’s relentless and hideous.

Missing Y/N is a new kind of torture he never contemplated having to face.

It’s not just that he’s worried about where she is, whether or not she’s safe and well. It’s that he misses the silliest, tiniest things about her that he didn’t even know he’d ever noticed in the first damn place. The rapt determination with which she cuts the crusts off her bread because that’s a little too much bread for her. The way she gestures wildly with her hands whilst passionately talking about things. That ruined, tattered journal she carries around in which she scrawls blunt, one-sentenced, sometimes unintelligible thoughts. And her scent — gods, her scent.

It has been one week — an amount of time he’s spent away from her before. But it’s different this time. This isn’t like being away on a training exercise and knowing he’ll soon be coming home. He knows nothing. Doesn’t even know what to think, what to feel.

Other than an overt urge to murder the camp lord. Violently.

“How about we get done here and head to the mead hall?” Kaeda breaks through his warring thoughts. “I’m starved.”

Az grabs a nearby rag, wiping the sweat from his face. “Not really hungry.”

There’s a pause. And then a soft sigh leaves the female. She sheathes her blade and pushes to her feet, just as Rhys and Cassian are approaching. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, Azriel, but you can’t be visiting my father with this attitude.”

At once, this grabs the other two males’ interests, and Azriel wants to groan. Right. He’d forgotten about that.

“What’s this?” Rhys frowns, staring between Az and Kaeda. “You’re returning to Fenlaros?”

“My father invited Azriel to dine with us, that’s all.” Kaeda answers for him.

It had genuinely slipped Azriel’s mind. Amongst everything else waging war in his thoughts, a dinner with Kaeda’s family in Fenlaros had sunk right to the bottom.

But he knows immediately how it looks. That he’s being secretive.

Rhys studies Azriel closely. “And you’ve cleared this with Devlon?”

No, no he hadn’t. Quite simply, he’s not sure he can be within twenty feet of the bastard, right now, without throttling him.

He hates himself for it — he really, truly does. But for the sake of sparing himself a lecture, he shrugs. “I have.”

He does not lie to his brothers. And they can smell that lie on him right away.

Cassian stares at Kaeda for a long moment, before turning towards Az. “That is a fucking terrible idea, and you know it.”

“It’s dinner.” Kaeda shoots back.

Cass grits his teeth. “I’m talking to Azriel.”

“Listen, Cassian—”

“Excuse me—I’m sorry to interrupt.”

All four of them turn in the direction of the intrusion —and they stop short.

All three of the males know Vegha, of course. Rhys was grateful that she’d so willingly opened her home to Y/N when he’d asked. But other than that, they’ve only spoken to her in passing — she’s never had reason to seek them out before.

But what adds a slither of urgency to her rare appearance at the training rings is the even rarer appearance of the two little girls who hold her hands. They’re not supposed to be here, and Vegha knows this well.

She obviously deemed whatever this is urgent enough to bypass that rule.

“Vegha.” Azriel steps forward, studying her closely. “Is all well?”

Vegha shifts on her feet, clutching tighter onto the girls’ hands. She’s never comfortable here, around all these males, but it’s a different unwanted attention that makes her want to turn and leave.

Kaeda eyes her head to toe with a look of distaste. Of mistrust. She folds her arms and flares her wings — a gesture that has the little girls gasping.

“Settle down.” Vegha squeezes their hands. She directs her attention back to the males. Strange, that she feels more comfortable with them than she does with the only other female present. “Honestly, Azriel, I’m not at all sure.”

Rhys steps forward. “Is it Y/N?”

Cassian swears — swears — that a small sigh comes from behind him. From Kaeda.

“I know you’ve been instructed to stay away, and I don’t wish to cause you any trouble.” Vegha tells them. “It’s just…well, she was staying at my home this past week, as you asked, Rhysand. I told her she was welcome for as long as she needs — that she mustn’t return to her father’s house. But just this morning, she suddenly announced that she was leaving…that she’d found somewhere else to stay.”

“And?” The word slips from Kaeda’s lips.

Yeah, Cass definitely isn’t in the mood for this today.

“And…and I’m not sure I believe her.” Vegha shrugs slowly. “My brother wasn’t exactly making it a pleasant stay, and I think she was desperate to get out of there. But I can’t imagine where she’d go. I just…thought I should tell you. You know her better than I do.”

True — except her three closest friends can’t imagine where she’d go, either, if not back to her father’s house. And they can’t imagine her resorting to that.

She has no money for a room at an inn. She doesn’t have a long list of friends who will open their homes up to her. And she most certainly can’t go back to Rhys’s mother’s cottage.

So…where? Will she pitch up in one of the abandoned tents across the camp? Will she spend her nights shivering in doorways and wondering where her next meal is coming from?

This is fucking ridiculous.

She can’t be left to live like this.

“You did the right thing, telling us.” Rhys reassures Vegha. He offers a gentle, soft smile to the girls at her sides. “How about you take these two back into the warm? We’ll deal with it.”

Gods, he’s already a High Lord through and through. Calm in the face of turmoil. Not letting on to his inner panic.

Vegha dips her chin. “Sorry, again, for interrupting.” She tugs gently at the children’s’ hands. “Come, girls.”

Rhysand’s brow furrows. Vegha is perhaps the only other good friend Y/N has in this place. There’s no way she’s made other arrangements — Rhys knows it. Cassian knows it. Azriel knows it.

“We’ve got to do something.” Azriel voices what they’re all thinking, a feral panic colouring his tone. “We can’t just leave her to face this on her own. Fuck what Devlon says. I’m not sitting back and letting her freeze or starve to death.”

Rhys chews his lip. “…I can try to speak with my father. But I’m not hopeful where he’s concerned. This falls under Devlon’s jurisdiction.”

“All Y/N needs is a roof over her head and some food in her belly until we can work out what to do next.” Cassian crosses his arms over his chest. “There’s got to be some way we can help. Is there not any clue of where she might go?”

The two males are looking at Az expectantly. If anyone knows, it’s him.

But he’s just…he’s not had his eye on the ball recently. His thoughts are all over the place. Perhaps he’s neglected his friendships a little — because he could swear he knows Y/N inside and out, and yet his mind is blank. Utterly fucking blank.

“I—I need to think.” He runs a hand through his hair, turning — he stops at the flash of red hair that meets him. He’d forgotten Kaeda was even there.

She stares between them, saying nothing, her face pinched and arms crossed. What she’s thinking, Az isn’t sure. But a thought suddenly strikes him.

“Kaeda.” He faces her properly. “Can’t you house Y/N in Fenlaros for the time being? Until this is sorted?”

Kaeda stops short. Blinks at him. “…What?”

“It doesn’t have to be your home, or…or even anything extravagant. Just somewhere she can sleep. There are surely more options in Fenlaros than there are here.”

Kaeda does not like this one bit. A negative reaction is rippling off her in waves, and it hits Cassian like a blast of cold air. Rhys, too.

But Az seems oblivious.

“Azriel…” The female keeps her voice calm, measured. “You know it isn’t that easy. A person can’t just…defect to another camp.”

“She wouldn’t—”

“So what’s your excuse?” The words are falling from Cassian’s lips before he can stop himself. He’s not sure he cares.

Kaeda pauses. Her face is a sheet of wide-eyed innocence as she turns to him. “Pardon me?”

Cass shrugs one shoulder. “You’ve been buzzing around here for months like a fly. What’s your excuse, if that’s not allowed? Because your father may be Lord of Fenlaros, sweetheart, and he may let you do whatever you want, but look around you. This is Windhaven. His word doesn’t mean shit here.”

Azriel takes a step towards him. “Cassian—”

“Either help our friend, or stay the fuck out of it—”

“Cassian, that is enough—”

“It’s fine, Azriel.” Kaeda’s voice is so deceptively warm, you could melt butter on it. She steps towards Cassian, face open, hands held up in a placating manner. “It’s fine. You’re right. I understand you’re upset, and I…I apologise if my presence here has been burdensome. Of course I’ll help any way that I can. I’ll talk to my father right away.”

Cass doesn’t feel particularly satisfied by that. Doesn’t believe a fucking word, to be honest. His eyes communicate that as he stares the female up and down.

“Cass, I think you should apologise.” Azriel says.

He barks a laugh. “No chance.”

“Kaeda just said she’d help—”

“Enough.” Rhys finally jumps in. His tone is laced with authority — just a smidgen of an idea of what he might one day be like as High Lord. He crosses his arms and glares the three of them down as though they’re bickering younglings. “Arguing back and forth will do nothing to help Y/N. We need to act. I will speak to my father. Kaeda will speak to hers. Az, you should see if you can find out where Y/N might have gone. Cass, I want you making sure she doesn’t go anywhere near her fucking father’s house. By the end of the day, we should have at least sorted something. Understood?”

Cass doesn’t look away from Kaeda. He can see her eye twitching — the way she so desperately wants to push back against being ordered. Gods, how Az can’t see right through her, he has no clue—

“Understood.” Azriel answers without hesitation. “I’ll get right on it.”

Rhys inclines his head. “As will I.”

“And I’ll head back to Fenlaros.” Kaeda adds.

Cassian merely shrugs. “Fine.”

Without goodbyes, Azriel is shooting into the skies — probably hoping to get an aerial view of a sodden, freezing Y/N traipsing through the snow.

Rhys looks between Cassian and Kaeda for a beat longer before he disappears, winnowing — Cass assumes — straight to Velaris.

And then there were two.

Kaeda turns back to Cass. The doe-eyed look on her face is instantly gone. There’s a hint of a damn smirk.

“Whatever game you’re playing at,” Cassian clenches his jaw. “You will not win.”

A soft hiccup of a laugh escapes the redhead. “Oh, yes I will.” She steps closer. Close enough for her cotton-and-powder scent to envelop the male. “See, I always get what I want. Always.”

“Not this time. Azriel may not see you for the viper that you are, but I do.” He grits his teeth. “And I will fucking destroy you before you cause any damage.”

Green eyes glitter back at him. The female is unperturbed by the threat — and she knows he means it. There’s even a change in her scent that makes Cassian’s nostrils flare. A darker one. A muskier one.

“Oh, Cassian, I do hope so.” She says, and pushes up so her lips are at his ear. Her full breasts brush his chest. “I love a male who’s willing to punish me.”

She winnows away before the snarl has a chance to claw up Cassian’s throat.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

This is starting to feel like a bad idea.

It was easy, from the warmth and comfort of Vegha’s home, to convince yourself you’d be fine out amongst the wilds of the camp. But the old armoury is dark, dingy and cold, and within hours, you’re not sure you have the resolve for a single night there. Let alone however many you have ahead of you.

This used to be a place of mischief, when you and your friends were children. This far end of the camp has sat abandoned and unused for years, after newer, more effective training rings were installed where the hub of activity now lays. The four of you would spend days here, playing pretend with the old, wooden practice swords that were left behind. You’d make up stories of the area being haunted by the ghost of an ancient, disgruntled Camp Lord. And as you got older, it became a place to come and get drunk, to speak words and secrets that remained there, never to be carried away with you.

You won’t be bothered here, you know — nobody ventures this way. But that, and the fact that the old armoury affords you a roof over your head, are about the only positives. You’re so cold that it hurts. You’re hungry and miserable and tired in a way that has nothing to do with nightmare-filled sleeps.

And gods, you miss your friends. You miss them so much, it‘s a gnawing ache. All those nights you took for granted, tucked up warm in the cottage, Cassian making you all laugh with his antics. Those times seem so distant, now. Is this how it will be, from now on? Never did you think you’d be separated from your friends. And you don’t even know if this is a permanent thing. Will you have to wait and wait until Rhysand is High Lord and able to make decisions, before you can see them again?

These thoughts will do you no good. They’ll only make you colder and drive you to shed tears that you’re not sure you have the energy to shed.

You bundle in your blanket, squeezing your eyes shut as though that fruitless act will shield you from the cold. You were tempted to build a fire, but the last thing you want is to draw attention from anyone flying above. Being found in here will just bring you more trouble you don’t need.

You’re already hunched as it is, gloved hands buried under your armpits — but you somehow manage to tense even more when you hear the distinct sound of boots traipsing through the snow outside.

No.

You can’t do this — not right now. Nobody fucking comes here. Is the Mother laughing at you from above and sprinkling more misfortune into your already-dire existence? You can’t handle a confrontation, can’t handle being told you can’t stay here—

But the door creaks open, and it’s Azriel’s face that peers around cautiously. You almost sob with relief.

“Thank fuck.” He breathes. He’s slipping inside, shutting the door behind him. In a few great strides, he’s in front of you and dropping to his knees. “Are you alright?”

If you speak, you might crack. You risk it all the same. “How did you find me?”

“Took me a while to think of this place, I must admit. It’s been a long while since we were last here.”

But find you, he did. And fuck, his scent and natural warmth are swarming you. It feels like nothing else matters right then. Just you and him, like it’s always been. He yanks you into a hug, and you don’t stop him.

“You’re frozen.” He whispers, squeezing you. His gloved hands rub at your arms, your back, your shoulders. He pulls away to cup your face, and he studies every inch of it. You’re not sure what for.

But you stare back. You don’t know what to do or say. That could be the cold making it difficult to think, or it could be this weird wedge between you that feels like it’s only growing.

Az leans closer, and he presses his forehead against yours. “I miss you.” His gloves brush over your cheeks. “Gods, I miss you. So much.”

“I miss you, too.” You shudder. The words are weighty and truthful, not just referring to this past week apart, but to whatever has been going on for a while, now. You didn’t mean for it to be like this. You just want to go back to how it was.

“I’ve thought about nothing else—” His nose bumps against yours, and one of his hands slides to the nape of your neck, kneading the skin there. “I just—just need you close to me, Y/N. Always.”

You attempt a breathy laugh. “I don’t think Devlon would agree with that.”

“Fuck, Devlon. We’re going to get around this. Rhys is going to talk to his father, and even if that fails, Kaeda is talking to hers. I reckon they’ll be able to offer you sanctuary in Fenlaros until this is sorted—”

You pull back to blink at him. Study him. “What?”

“I asked Kaeda to speak with her father on your behalf. To see if they can find somewhere for you to stay. I’m sure they can—”

“Azriel, I’m not going to Fenlaros.”

He pauses. “…If they’ll have you, Y/N, yes you are. It means you’ll be safe and warm and fed—”

“No.”

“What? Why?”

“Besides the fact that I’m already in enough trouble thanks to that place?” You pull away from him, easing to your feet. “I don’t know anyone there. And if Devlon were to find out—”

“Stop worrying about Devlon and start worrying about your safety.” Azriel, too, stands. “It’s the most logical thing.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m not going further away from you than I already am, and I’m especially not going to start playing house with your lover, Azriel, it’s odd—”

“That’s what this is about?” He cocks an eyebrow. Folds his arms. “Because you don’t want to accept help from Kaeda?”

You shrug. And just…just to give your body something to do, you begin pacing. “I’m not sure it would be very helpful at all.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You just don’t like her, do you?” He snaps. The sound is harsh, and it makes you grit your teeth. “You’re not willing to accept help that you so clearly fucking need, because you don’t like Kaeda.”

“I don’t trust Kaeda.” You whirl around to face him. “Not one fucking bit, and you shouldn’t, either.”

“Why?”

“Because none of it makes sense! Why is she here in Windhaven, Azriel? What is it she actually wants?”

It’s dangerous — the way your voices are rising in volume and echoing around the armoury. But it’s as though weeks of emotional buildup are floating to the surface, and you can’t stop them, and they’re stoking an anger that actually warms you and feels better than being cold and hungry.

Azriel shakes his head. “You’re fucking impossible sometimes, you know that? You don’t want to help yourself. It’s like you’re determined to make your life as difficult as possible, and when you’re offered help, you don’t take it. You’re impossible!”

“Yeah, Azriel, maybe I am.” You snap back. “But at least I’m not lying through my teeth like Kaeda is, and at least I don’t break my damn promises.”

Azriel stops short. Stares at you.

You and he both know you’re referring to Solstice Night. You should have confronted it before, but…but you buried it.

You’re not sure you can do that anymore.

Azriel purses his lips. And then has the nerve to state, “Things are different between you and I these days.”

“Yes.” You stare back at him. “They are.”

Your eyes are trying to communicate so much. Things are different, and it might be the boundaries you crossed, but you’re more certain than anything that it’s Kaeda’s influence. You just don’t understand why Azriel can’t see it.

You wonder what he might say yet. So much anger and pent-up frustration zips between you. Mixed with longing and missing each other. Loving each other. Wanting to scream at each other, and for each other.

And part of you wants him to spit vicious words and fight back, just for you to feel something — even though you know that’s not Azriel’s style. But you stare and stare, and neither of you speak, and then Az is shaking his head and clenching his jaw.

“I’m not arguing with you here.” He says. “It’ll only draw attention to us.”

You fold your arms. “Fine.”

“I’m going to speak to Rhys, find out what his father said. And I’ll speak to Kaeda—”

“Go right ahead. I’m still not stepping foot back in Fenlaros—”

“And I’ll bring you some blankets and food. Or Cassian will. Or…whatever.” He stops still for a second, swallowing. “But we need to fix this shit between us.”

You know that. But you’re so fucking stubborn, your own worst enemy. And right then, you want to scream. Cry. Hurt him how he hurt you.

So you say nothing. You just shrug again.

He stares, as if waiting for a better reaction. And then he shakes his head once more and turns, striding back to the door. You wonder if it’s a bad thing to let him go, like this. When will you see him again? How will things be when you see him again? You’re making it worse for yourself, for him, for both of you.

You open your mouth — to say what, you’re not sure. But you’re stopped by Az pausing with his hand on the doorknob. With his back to you, his shoulders tense. He’s frozen in place.

And then he speaks — growls — two words. “Fuck this.”

He turns, marching back over to you so fast, you don’t have time to react.

And then he’s grabbing your face, and his mouth is on yours.

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