#Alpha Azriel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tadpolesonalgae · 3 months ago

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Bound And Discarded To Be Treasured And Known[*]

Azriel x reader

Day 3 of @acotar-omegaverse-week — All Tied Up: Oh, you’re tied up so you don’t do anything you’ll regret during your heat? Would be a shame if someone… came along and messed up that plan for you :)

a/n: my eyelids are so heavy—most of this is proofread but there are sections I’ll be checking over come morning

Warnings: smut; pussy-eating; technically dubcon since reader’s in heat; overstim?; bdsm themes; cockwarming; knots; soft Dom Az?; fluff; they’re kinda adorable; very light breeding kink; implied incorrect use of a dagger’s hilt

word count: 6,507

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“I could show you, if you’d like…?”

Pause.

Steady…

Deep inhale.

Okay, resume.

Your throat rolls, wetting parched lips with a flick of your tongue as your eyes momentarily drop away from the alpha’s hazel set. There’s nothing inappropriate about what he’s offering, and yet…

And yet.

And yet your toes are curling in your boots and there’s molten syrup stirring in the pit of your belly. Any kind of heat is far from normal, living up here in the desolate Illyrian Steppes, and the kind that’s gently simmering within your abdomen is as normal as spotting two suns in the sky.

“You mean…now?” That’s definitely a hint of breathlessness in your tone. A puff of mist uncurling from your lips and carried away on an icy wind slicing between you.

Azriel rolls his shoulders carelessly, though you doubt he so much as glances about without intention. Pointed; decisive; certain. Centuries worth of lived experience and warrior training under his belt. Is there space for you to slip in, too?

“We could meet tomorrow, if that would work better for you?” Hazel eyes rest over your features, his irises set and still. Taking you in like an expert sommelier, savouring his time distinguishing the floral notes from the bitter or sweet undertones. Swishing you around in his glass before tilting the flute upright and letting you flow across his tongue. He clears his throat. “After training, I mean. One requires a flight back up, so I’ll be here anyway.”

“I’m not sure,” you hedge, teeth clasping at the interior of your lower lip, glancing away from what feels like an all-knowing gaze. “Starting next week I’m going to be pretty busy…”

“Busy?” Something in Azriel’s eyes changes.

“Right.” You nod. “Baeril is flying North for a week so I’ll be cleaning things up while I have the chance.” But there’s no way he didn’t already know that. It was the General who gave him that task. Also the reason his mood has been so poor lately, given your heat is supposed to…

You swallow, pushing the thought away.

“I see.” The alpha before you dips his head once. “Another time, then.” He takes it smoothly, without complaint; you wish Baeril was more like him. If only he could have half the composure Azriel has, things would be significantly better. As it is though Azriel’s head dips slightly, lowering his chin to look properly at you, a smile softening the edges of his mouth. “May I walk you back?”

You allow yourself to return his smile but it lasts for less than a second, realising where you’re going back to. “Thank you. That would be lovely.”

“My pleasure.”

————

There are no lingering touches on the doorstep of your home. No wash of heat where he’d usually wrap you to his chest, nor a last surge of warmth before the cool creeps in and you’re returned to the dim dampness of your house. Instead you give less than a tight smile, and it seems even Azriel’s lips contain ounces of strain as he yields you once again.

Returning you to your husband’s uncaring grip.

————

Busy, she had told him. Busy cleaning the house.

Azriel knows her husband has been sent off to check in on his relatives throughout the inner camps, so by all means she should be going with him. Not that he’s complaining that her husband might be loosening his grip on the treasure that is his wife. Azriel’ll happily swoop in the moment he senses an opening. It’s not like he’s made it this far through hesitating.

Though it is out of character for her husband to leave her. While there’s little romance between them, there is still possession. So why leave her?

————

It’s been two days since her husband had initially set off, and three days since he’s last seen her. Ordinarily Azriel would have no cause for concern—there are days when one of them is busier than usual—but this is preciously unregulated time with her husband entirely out of the picture.

Not that he’d had plans. The closest he’s gotten is a late night a month and a half ago, the sky having fallen to a dusky blue and the air containing the evening scent of woodsmoke. There’d been a celebration amongst the male Illyrians, cause for bonfires and ale and mead, salted meats with rosemary and indulging in crisped potatoes the size of one’s fist. Her husband had been out and both of them had known he wouldn’t be back for while.

His fingers had found their way to her cheek, pushing at a stray hair, and then her eyes had fluttered shut. Her hands had been clasped before her chest and her chin had lifted ever so slightly. Then his head had dipped but their mouths barely even touched before a stray breeze had her eyes snapping open, a look of peril on her features. She’d taken a step back, and then another, and then she’d been muttering an apology under her breath and turning for her house.

They haven’t spoken of it since.

Azriel had thought he might have a chance to bring it up when he saw her next… Is she avoiding him? The thought doesn’t sit well in his gut. Surely she would have no reason to. And yet, as far as he can tell, she would’ve had no reason to pull away the night he almost kissed her.

Wings shifting once at his back, Azriel steers his course to pass by her house. Evening is swiftly setting in, and if he isn’t quick he’ll miss his chance for the day—even he can’t deny it would be inappropriate to call in after dark, knowing she was on her own, and Azriel doesn’t want to bring any more trouble her way. Light is fading, the temperature steadily dropping with the dwindling of the sun, and the war camp is quiet as it hasn’t yet reached time for the males to sojourn down to an inn for post-dinner chatter.

Her house is the one at the end of the street, plenty of space kept between builds to allow room for gardens where veg will spring in the summer. There are no lights on that he can see, windows dark and seemingly empty. His brow furrows. Did her husband have a change of heart and bring her along as a last minute decision? Surely he would have known.

Keeping his pace steady, Azriel sends his shadows far on ahead, letting them curl around the back of the house, peering in dark glass to a darker interior. Empty. Strange. Surely, Azriel would have known if she’d ended up going with him… That’s her dressing robe hanging from the door; all her shoes by the front entrance, tucked between her husbands boots; the fleeced cloak she would take if she really was to travel deeper into the brutal terrain further north. Hair prickles at the nape of his neck.

Azriel allows his shadows to sweep the area, senses on high alert as he scans for any watchful eyes. When he finds none, he walks to her front door.

Locked. That’s fine.

Keeping his shadows aware, he calmly walks to the side, finding the large windows that let light into their living room—large enough for him to climb through, once the latch is…perfect. Shadows slip between the wood holding the glass and flip the latch open, pushing the windows ajar.

No sooner than he’s inside, a thick scent nearly chokes him, so concentrated and sweet he has to cover the lower portion of his face at first. The window clicks shut, and hazel eyes scan the vacant interior of their sitting room. Nothing is out of place, no shattered vases or broken plates, no blood stains on the floor, but that scent. Cautiously, Azriel sniffs once, bringing it into his lungs, filling them up and spreading into his bloodstream. Whatever is producing that smell, he can feel as it courses through his body, pulse kicking up. It’s unusually hot for a house built in Illyria. It should be much more draughty, not toeing the line of sweltering. Where’s all this heat coming from?

Not hearing any approaching footsteps, Azriel enters further into the enclosure, keeping his shadows ahead of him, patrolling corridors and doorways to keep himself hidden.

The scent builds, so dense he wonders if he’s even breathing air anymore or whether it’s pure… His tongue shifts in his mouth, throat rolling. His mouth is watering.

Azriel stiffens.

An increase in temperature. Prickling skin. Excessive working of salivary glands. Blood rushing with increased fervour. …This strangely sweet scent. Azriel inhales sharply, a faint tremble in his knuckles as he wraps his hand around the bedroom’s door handle. The door opens.

Azriel’s spine turns rigid…the scent is so much stronger. So strong his head is hurting.

But then his eyes find the bed, and his thoughts eddy away.

Her wings are bound at her back, rendered immobile and useless; coarse, thick rope has been tied around her wrists, wrapping around her forearms so they’re pulled together at the base of her spine, so tightly snared her shoulders are taut where they’re being wrenched back from her chest; darkened fabric has been tied at the back of her head, biting into her cheeks where it’s been slipped through her mouth, wet with saliva; rope has been wound around her ankles, knees, and thighs, making it impossible for her to move save for light circles of her hips.

The scent is coming from her.

She’s gone into heat.

————

How much longer? How much longer until it’s over?

You can’t even rub your thighs together from how closely they’re bound, not even an ounce of friction to soothe the aches riddling your body. Your arms have long since turned numb, though the edges of your mouth are rubbed raw and sore. Heat swelters beneath your skin, temples dewy and a thick gleam coats your body where sweat has permeated through the pores of your flesh.

It’s pure hell.

Exactly what Baeril had intended when he’d tied you up before departing for the innermost camps set up in the frozen mountains of Illyria. After all, he wouldn’t be able to be with you after the task he’d been assigned with would take up almost all of his time, and if he was going to have to suffer through the absence of sex, then he was going to make it ten-times as torturous for you. No romance, no love; just pure possession. Your pleasure is something of his—something he wouldn’t allow you to have unless it was from him.

A floorboard creaks behind you, and you whimper into the rag. Is he finally back?

Your hips wind in a circle, weakly shifting in the bed as you try to do whatever you can to lure him closer, to relieve you of the ties, or at least remove the ones from your legs so he can slide between them. With the angle of your head on the pillow you can’t see him, but you try to lift onto your knees only to find yourself too weak to manage anything more than raising an inch from the mattress.

The slicing of steel through coarse strands of rope snickers through the room and you find your ankles free, circling your feet as they tingle with feeling. You whine into the rag, squirming desperately beneath your bonds. Your knees part next, and the waves of heat increase the more freedom you’re allowed, the closer you come to being able to move and receive. A rough hand wraps around the top of your thigh, holding you in place as the blade slips beneath the rope, severing the final tie.

With a pained whimper, your legs press together, managing to half-roll onto your side, thighs rubbing against one another to invite more of that delicious heat to gather. A calloused palm wraps around your upper arm, probably to sever the ropes binding your upper body but you shift before he can continue.

You don’t need any more freedom—you just need him to fuck you.

————

Azriel’s back teeth might split beneath the tension that’s clenching in his jaw.

Now her legs are free, she’s managed to work herself into what she deems an ample position: knees pushing into the cushioning of the mattress a little further than shoulder width apart, her spine curving to invite him closer, face pressing deeper into the pillows. He can’t imagine the rope around her wings or arms being anything less than painful, but it seems her heat is taking priority.

He could instruct her to lie down, to let him cut the ropes on her body, but he doesn’t want to alarm her. She’ll be expecting her husband, not him. What if she doesn’t want him now she’s in heat? Fuck, they haven’t even had their first kiss, and yet he’s on his knees behind her and trying not to think about how perfectly they’re aligned. All he’d need to do is push her dress up, loosen the ties of his leathers, and that would be it.

The only problem is that it would be unforgivably wrong.

Her legs are open, her hips circling faintly, needy sounds pouring into that gag, but none of it is for him. He needs to cut her free.

Gritting his teeth tighter, he leans over her enough to slide the cold steel of the blade between the first three coils of rope, severing them like fabric scissors through silk. No sooner than her arms are freed, her legs have wrapped themselves around his hips, her left shin and foot wrapping around his back so she can haul her right to lock at his back. Muscles flex in her wings as her arms push beneath her, lifting herself up as she squeezes with her legs, aligning his hips with her centre, thighs working to keep them flush tight together.

Azriel exhales harshly, his palms working to disentangle her legs from his waist but it’s like she’s locked in, having grown impossibly strong in order to gain what she wants. She squeezes him once more, and her grip is tight enough he’s pulled forward, hands slamming down either side of her in the mattress, narrowly avoiding knocking her wings.

He can hear the whimpers stuck in her throat, the way her body is shifting beneath her own, and he forces himself to get a grip. He has to keep steady. He’s working to help you, not take advantage of you. Shadows curl, and he retains enough control over himself to have the steel blade slicing through the ropes around your wings before pushing himself away, ripping from your grip.

A pained noise moans from behind the rag, and Azriel watches as she tries to weakly shift upright, her upper arms shaking as pheromones filter through the already thickly sweet air. His mouth opens in preparation to explain, but she’s already turned around on her knees, fingers splayed delicately between the sheets, her pupils dilated and lips parted as they try to work around the gag.

Both of them freeze when their eyes lock, neither having been prepared for the current situation.

————

Azriel.

His name alone provides more comfort and relief than you’ve received in the past week, a cool sweep of lightheadedness coursing through your body.

It’s Azriel, and everything’s okay.

You manage to sit back on your knees, hands trying to release the gag from your mouth and you could cry from frustration when your fingers fumble, being unfamiliar with whatever way he’d tied the pieces together.

Azriel’s throat rolls once. “Here.” He says. “Let me.”

Your hands fall away, shuffling closer so he can work on the tie. Your chest rises up and down, eyes flitting from his dilated hazel set to the inviting heat of his soft mouth, how good his lips will feel.

The gag loosens, and Azriel meets your gaze, a deep apology already held on the tip of his tongue. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice thick and heavy, scratching at your ears, “I’ll find you some medicine, just—”

Your arms lock over his shoulders, flinging your weight into his chest, mouth colliding with his own. Gods, if your eyes were open they would have rolled to the back of your skull, indulging in the heaven of his hair between your fingers, soft and smooth and silky. Clean and taken care of. Need pounds between your legs, pressing your hips tight to his front as your nails scrape up the nape of his neck, scratching just beneath his jaw as your teeth tug on his lower lip, dragging on it sultrily.

Hazel eyes widen by an almost imperceptible margin, fingers enclosing around your wrists but not yet making any moves. Caught between pulling you away and pushing you into the bed.

“Azriel,” you pant, retracting enough for words to narrowly fit between your mouths. A shudder of pleasure zips up your spine from the taste of his name, a flutter of arousal spasming in your lower belly. “Azriel…” It comes out more high-pitched the second time, more desperate and hoarse. What a state you must be in. How long have you even been lying there?

You don’t think about it. You just want to taste his name once more.

But, “Wait,” he instructs, forcing himself to retreat. A noise of pure pain breaks from your chest, nails finding purchase in his well-muscled shoulders, trying to keep him from leaving as you shake your head. “Azriel, please. Please don’t…” You stare up at him, palms gripping onto him in supplication. “Please…” Hot water drips down your cheek, overwhelmed by wild hormones gushing through your bloodstream, making everything too much and so, so, confusing.

“I just need to find you medicine,” he tries to reason but you can hear the unsteady inhale of breath, the heightened staccato of his pulse. “Then you’ll be thinking clearly again. A little.”

“Fuck me,” you breathe, ignoring what he’s trying to tell you. “Please.” You push your bodies closer, certain he’ll be able to feel the full press of your breasts to his chest, the inviting softness of your body and… Your mouth opens in a moan when you feel the hard outline of him digging into your lower stomach. That needs to be inside of you. Right now.

“I can’t,” he whispers, his eyes shining at the hurt you’re clearly experiencing. “I— That would be wrong. Let me find you—”

“There’s none in the house. No one will have any up here. It’ll take hours. Help me.” You don’t know where the reasoning comes from, but maybe the desperation is making your mind work more efficiently to provide a succinct, compelling argument. “You know me. I want you. I wanted you before this. I’ll want you after. Please.”

“Are you—”

“Yes. Please.”

His wings have lifted at his back—perhaps he’s not even aware of it himself—looming over the broad set of his shoulders, and you just know you need them to be flared while he’s on top of you. Holding you down in the bed. His weight keeping you pinned.

Then you’re being forcefully pushed down into the mattress, his mouth atop your own, and heat bursts throughout your body. Your thighs part, legs eager to wrap around his hips, and you—ohh. That’s good.

A moan spills from your lips when you managed to rub against him, the thick length of him pushing at the delicate part between your legs. “Azriel,” you pant, chest heaving up and down, “Azriel I need you. Now.”

“Right now?”

You swirl your hips, knowing it will feel torturous to him but he clearly needs the incentive of arousal to have him acting. “Don’t hold back,” you whisper, grinding up against him, already fantasising about how good he’ll feel inside of you. How full you’ll be. His wingspan alone is promising you pleasure, but he’s also an alpha, so… Your throat rolls, wondering if you might have bitten off more than you can chew. Alphas are notoriously…well off.

Azriel pulls back as far as you’ll. Let him, looking down at you with colour high on his cheekbones. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he pants.

“You won’t,” you assure, cupping his jaw, squeezing his hips. His throat rolls, and you want to bite him. Lick and nip and bite.

“Give me a safe word,” Azriel demands, his voice rough and coarse. “You need to have… So I can be sure.” He’s just as breathless as you are. “Choose one.”

You say the first word that comes into your head. “Knot.”

Azriel’s head falls to the crook of your shoulder and neck, groaning audibly beside your ear, his hips lazily grinding against your clothed sex. Hot breath fans your bare skin, and you incline your chin for him to access your throat but his hands are fisted in the sheets, tension lining his powerful body. “Pick a different one,” he grits out. “You’re not having knot as your—”

Your hand has slipped between your bodies, cupping him before palming carefully at the large outline in his leathers. His tension rises, his whole body going rigid before he pulls far enough back to snarl, glaring down at you. Arousal floods between your thighs, squirming beneath the heated look. “Pick a godsdamned safe word or I’m tying you back up and getting that medicine.”

The ropes had hurt. A lot.

So why is your skin only growing hotter at the suggestion?

“Rope,” you manage to get out. It doesn’t make much sense but as far as safe words go, it’ll do. Azriel seems to find it satisfactory, dipping his head once. “Say ‘rope’ if it gets too much then. I’ll stop.”

“Mhmm.” You nod instantly, whimpering when he pulls back to untie his leathers. The whimpers turn into a moan when shadow crawl up your calves, looping around your knees to keep them spread, carefully pulling away the fabric of your skirts until you’re almost bare.

Your head tips back into the cushions when the darkness swipes up the centre of your sex, flicking over your clit. They make to curl around the band at your hips but Azriel curses foully under his breath, hazel eyes so dark they’re nearly black as he gazes between your parted thighs. You’d gone into heat the day Baeril had left, cunt practically drooling slick every minute of every hour since then. The sheets are more than soaked, and your underwear is practically suctioned to your sex, strands of arousal webbing between your thighs.

Azriel groans softly before both his palms are wrapping beneath your knees, allowing their underside to slot between his thumbs and second fingers. Your spine arches, thighs trembling as he buries his face between your legs creating a wild fluttering sensation in your lower belly, hips circling as you rub against whatever friction he’ll provide even if it means soaking his face in the process. If he likes it then you’re fine to adhere. Who are you to refuse pleasure?

The orgasm breaks across your skin with violent force, your breathing stuttering as your spine arcs off the bed, cunt fluttering around nothing as he licks up the wet mess between your thighs. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking tenderly on the sensitive part and you could cry from satisfaction. How relieved you are he innately knows where to touch. Even after the orgasm has finished washing through your body, it feels like only a few litres of pleasure have been released from behind a one-hundred foot tall dam.

“Azriel,” you pant, tugging at his hair. “More. I need more. Please.”

“So quickly?” He drawls, though it comes out breathless. You squirm, trying to free your legs from his grip, your knees still practically shoved to your chest to make room for him. “You’re being cruel,” you cry, winding your hips, needing him inside. He seems to take pity on you there, releasing your legs to prowl up your torso, taking your dress with him, nearly tearing it clean from your body—you wouldn’t have minded. But now you’re naked and completely exposed save for the underwear at your hips, and Azriel’s looking like he might try and make you cum from licking and playing with your breasts alone. Then again with the aid of your heat, anything’s possible.

Almost reverently, Azriel thumbs across one of your nipples, watching your reactions with a keenness that has a fire simmering in the pit of your stomach. But, “Azriel…” you whimper. “Not now…”

Hazel eyes soften, then he’s nodding his head. Swallowing. “I’ll take care of you.”

Breaths pant between you and your tongue wets your lips when you see his hand wrapped around his cock, the tip holding a bead of precum and your cunt aches as it swells with liquid before drizzling down his tip. You need to taste him. Gods he’s going to feel so good inside of you, and you hold your legs apart to make room for him.

“You’re going to tell me if you need time, okay?” Azriel instructs, drawing your attention to his eyes. “We can go slower if it’s too much. Take as much time as you need.”

“Put it inside,” you beg, hips shifting eagerly, ready to take him. “It’ll fit.” Azriel pauses, glancing at you doubtfully, “I’ve barely touched you. If it’s too much you’re taking my fingers instead. I’m not going to hurt you.” But you shake your head, need coursing through your veins, and he’s right there.

“You wouldn’t have been made that big if you wouldn’t fit me.”

Azriel groans, but it’s clear he’s struggling. Why is he struggling, he just needs to slide in. It’ll be fine. Why’s he waiting? What’s taking him so long? Why’s he not going in?

His tip presses to your entrance and you freeze with anticipation. Almost there.

Scar-roughened fingers lace with your own, gently pinning your hands to the bed as he leans his weight over you.

He goes slowly as he’d told you he would. Inch by inch. Sliding deeper, and deeper. Air is pushed from your lungs, and even while he’s still you can feel his cock pushing upward against that spot. A few strokes of his thumb over your clit and you’ll be gone. Hazel eyes lock with yours, blinking before his brows raise, glancing lower as his hand slides between you. One. Two…

“Oh.”

————

Azriel’s breath is trapped in his lungs as she flutters around him.

He hasn’t even moved yet and she’s coming on his cock.

Her lips are parted and she looks like she’s in heaven right now.

And she did say to not hold back.

————

You don’t get a chance to hold onto anything when he draws his hips back and suddenly pushes back in before the aftershocks have even properly faded.

You don’t have room to moan when he repeats the action but harder.

You don’t have space for thought when he makes it a regular pace, fingers digging into your hips to angle them up from the bed so his cock can rub against that spot that had you coming so fast before.

You don’t get a chance to fully acclimatise to the onslaught of pleasure.

He’s perfect.

Your hips lift in time to meet his thrusts, winding and bucking to take everything he can give, eager to have him filling you up until he’s making the sheets as wet as you are. Your spine arches as he holds your legs apart, roughly slamming into you over and over, hitting that spot again and again until you’re screaming with pleasure, head tipped back and mouth completely open, being fucked further up the mattress with every snap of his hips.

“Is that better?” He asks and you’re astounded by the mild tone. He’s currently obliterating your world and yet he sounds completely in control. You manage a nod and he lowers his mouth to the hollow of your throat, halting the sharp thrusts but keeping you tightly pulled to his hips as he licks up the side of your throat. You feel more down-to-earth than you have over the past two days, and you’re approaching the peak of your heat right now. He’s keeping up with you.

“Sit in my lap for a bit?”

You hear the question but can manage little more than a series of dazed blinks. Then a vacant nod.

His lips curve and hazel eyes twinkle, then his powerful arms are sliding beneath your back and hauling you upright, shifting the both of you so his back is against the headboard and you’re straddling his lap. Your knees sink down into the bed and his cock presses against your inner walls.

“I can see you…you’re inside of me.” Your palm tentatively settles over the bump in your lower belly, shifting your hips faintly over his lap to feel him rub against you. “Az…you…oh.”

His shadows wrap around your middle, stroking your sides soothingly as they squeeze your abdomen, the pressure having your eyes flutter with pleasure. “You feel so good,” you breathe, lips staying parted on the exhale, a blissed out heaviness to your half-open eyes. “So right, inside.”

“You’re adorable,” he chuckles breathily into the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning ticklishly across the intimate expanse, fangs dragging teasingly along. His lips curve against your throat, and a small, needful hum simmers in your chest. “So perfect.”

Teeth prod into your lower lip, fingers tangling in the silky strands of his hair. He smells delicious. Clean but distinctly male. Distinctly himself. “You’re perfect,” you argue back, hardly louder than a murmur. You pull back to look at one another, your skin heating with the strange intimacy.

“Why’d you stop?” You ask, playing with the ends of his hair. Azriel doesn’t avert his gaze, palms spanning the sweep of your hips, thumbs stroking faintly. “Lift up,” he tells you, softer than a whisper; a gently uttered command. You flush at his low cadence, but obey.

Try to obey.

You’re stuck.

Azriel groans softly when you squeeze him, fingers digging into your hips when you try to start riding him, instincts urging you to have him releasing.

“Az, why-”

“Slow down. It’s okay.” His palm settles atop the crown of your head, stroking gently. “I should have pulled out before it formed. Just wait until it goes away then I promise we can start again.”

“But I want to take it,” you insist, leaning into his chest. “I want your knot.” His throat rolls but he doesn’t relent. “I don’t regularly take a tonic, pretty thing.”

“That’s fine. I still want it.”

“You want it now,” he stresses that last part, still remaining steady. You don’t feel like he’s chastising you. “What about when you’re not in heat?”

“I’ll still want it. Please.”

Azriel shakes his head, eyes still soft despite their hunger. “When your heat passes we can talk more about…what will happen between us. For now…”

“Us?” You ask, pulse spiking.

“Is that… Do you not want an us?”

“I want an us. What about-”

“Please don’t say his name right now.” You flush, tightening around him, shifting in his lap. “Well, what about that? I’m married…”

“It’s illegal to confine someone in the way he did to you. Especially since I’m assuming he knew you were going into heat?” You nod your head, choosing not to think about what could have happened had Azriel not shown up. A muscle feathers in his jaw before he continues. “Then that’s a kind of torture. More than enough ground for departure.” His throat rolls. “If you…?”

“Are you sure?”

He stares at you.

You glance away. “You aren’t-…I mean, this isn’t lust speaking, is it? You’ll mean what you’re saying once you’re done with me?”

“Done with you?”

“Once my heat is passed…”

He’s still staring.

“Have I said something wrong?” You ask, once again shifting in his lap.

Scar-roughened palms cup your cheeks, hazel eyes shining as he pulls you closer. “I’ve been hoping to take you from him for the past three years.” Your heart flutters in your chest, leaning into the solid heat of his chest. “Once your heat is passed, it’s your choice what to do, but know I’d like to be part of it still. In whatever way you might let me.”

“Are you…”

“I’m serious.” His thumb swipes across the crest of your cheek. “I can tell you this all again once your heat is passed, if that will help. I want to… I want to be with you.”

You’re too stunned to speak, heart about ready to grow its own set of wings and fly far away. Flutter to the skies and float away on a warm breeze.

You shift in his lap once more, still able to feel his knot inside of you—not as big as before but definitely still there. Your tongue swipes across your lips. “Emerie…will have something. To prevent pregnancy, I mean.” His throat rolls, and your teeth tug at the interior of your lower lip. “So, as long as I can take that within the next day…” You roll your hips gently over his own, tightening around him as your hands slowly glide up his chest.

“When I leave to get…a tonic.” He seems to be having a hard time getting through this one. “Will you be okay?” You blink, averting your eyes as you consider. You’d rather he didn’t leave…you don’t want to endure any more of that heat without reprieve, but you so badly want to take his knot. To feel him spill inside of you. You’re not sure you’ll be able to survive without that.

Your eyes catch on a sheath strapped to his thigh. The smooth metal handle of the dagger he’d used to cut you free. Curved and cylindrical.

You clear your throat, feeling the heat begin to return. “Is that clean?”

Beneath you Azriel freezes. “…Yes.”

“And…so…would you mind if I…”

“No.” He tries to clear his throat. Swallows. “No, it’s fine. You can use it.” His voice strains over that last part. “I’ll clean it again, before leaving you. But yes. You’re more than- I mean, I don’t mind. If it will help you, then please-”

Your lips press to his, and the rigidity begins to thaw. Gently circling your hips, you want to entice him to make you move, to angle and direct you as he pleases. The thought alone of having him guide you has wild butterflies coming alive between your legs.

“Give it to me,” you whisper, nails scratching lightly beneath his jaw. “Let me take it.” Azriel nods, looking up at you as though dazed. His eyes are glazed, lips parted, fingers skimming over your skin. “I want…I want you to use me to get there,” you utter softly, unsure whether to be embarrassed over the admission. When he twitches inside of you, you decide you’re proud of your decision.

“You want me…? To…?”

Teeth prod at your lip, and you nod your head. “I want you… To…”

Azriel swallows thickly but nods nonetheless. “Okay.”

Hands readjust their grip on your hips, fingers spanning up to your waist before he lifts you from his lap—as far as you can go—then sliding you back down. His breathing stutters and you try to vaguely follow his directions, lifting up, then down, using the muscles in your legs to ride him as much as you can.

He’s growing bigger inside of you. Swelling at the base of his cock. Locking you tighter together until it’s impossible to slide much up or down. Instead he inclines your body into him, breasts pressing flush to his chest, your fingers scrambling at the hem of his clothes, encouraging them away so he’s bare.

Powerful arms wrap around your back, minding your wings while keeping you plastered to his front. It feels good, to be held like this during sex. The tenderness is something you hadn’t known was an option, but now he’s so freely offering it to you you’re taking it with both hands, arms wrapping over his shoulders.

A moan is pushed from your chest when he bucks his hips, his arms keeping you strapped to his torso, shadows delicately snaring your forearms to bind them as they’d been when he found you.

“Is this okay?” He whispers, lips tickling the shell of your ear. “It’s good,” you reassure, too caught up in pleasure to really think.

Azriel bites his lip as he holds you upright, letting his shadows roam across your front, his palms playing with your breasts, thumbing across your nipples before trailing back down to your hips. Bucking up into you. Guiding you to rock back and forth, your clit rubbing over his abdomen.

“Azriel…I’m…”

He nods. “Good.”

“But what about you…?”

“I’m nearly there…just keep…” He cuts himself off with a deep groan, one you can feel vibrating through your own body, sending tremors up your thighs.

He twitches twice, then he’s filling you up, knot swollen to its full size so it’s impossible to lift off him, locked together while he empties himself inside. Your lips part with pleasure, another orgasm rolling through your limbs, spreading to your tip toes and fingertips. It’s the most powerful one yet, ecstasy heightened by his own orgasm, feeling as he fills you up so perfectly.

Azriel holds you all the way through it, shadows stroking tenderly up and down over your body, putting soothing touches into your skin before eventually unraveling from your arms, allowing you to reach out for him. Fingers interleaf with your own, squeezing faintly.

It’s different knowing this isn’t temporary. That it’s not just sex. That there is romance, and it’s not just possession.

Maybe it’s more than just romance. He had almost kissed you before you’d run away…

You’ll just have to trust that he’ll keep caring after this immediate heat is passed. That he really does want to take you away, and be with you. And looking at him now…feeling the gentle touch, the light patterns he’s drawing on your skin, waiting patiently for you to signal whether you want more or a break…

You smile, inclining your head until your noses are brushing. Close enough to feel the stutter of air his lashes send your way. “I want you to stay with me. After this is passed.”

Hazel eyes blink, his lips softening at their corners. “I’d wish for nothing more.”

Your toes curl, a fluttery feeling in your heart, and you press a small kiss to his mouth.

His knuckles graze your cheek before cupping you jaw, indulging in the sweet press of you lips.

Perfection.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover @mrsjna

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#azriel x reader smut #acotaromegaverse2024 #bound and discarded to be treasured and known #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel fluff #azriel smut #alpha! azriel x omega! reader #badtbtak

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highladyjane · 8 months ago

Text

- Unknown

“The lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and Dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two."

#elriel coded #death and his lovely fawn #death and rebirth #light and dark #made and unmade #the end and the beginning #alpha and omega #hades x persephone #yin & yang #death and the maiden #pro elriel #elain x azriel

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bloodycassian · 8 months ago

Text

To Be Wed part two - The Chase

NSFW 18+ MDNI - Part two of To Be Wed. READ WARNINGS BEFORE CONTINUING.

WARNINGS / Themes - breeding/pregnancy (not mentioned in scene.) primal play that INVOLVES MAJOR CNC THEMES. Knife play. Edging/teasing. defensive/territorial men. ABO style dicks (knotting. Monster dick style). Cum play. Cuckholding. Voyeur. Outdoor sex + EXHIBITIONISM. Gagging. Forced squirting. pinning/restraint. Eventual pregnancy.

DP - Vaginal and Anal at same time. Vaginal and oral at same time. Vaginal penetration. Anal penetration. Oral penetration. Polyamory.

Hope this one has your butterflies doing the freak. Requests/ideas for kinks are open.

M D N I - 18+ NSFW. READ WARNINGS BEFORE CONTINUING.

Something was wrong with Azriel. Something deeply disturbing in his mind that he couldn’t ignore for more than a few moments in a day. He was obsessed. More so than he was with any ordinary thing that piqued his interest. He was completely, and utterly enthralled with the female that had signed her life away so easily.

He couldn’t get enough. Of any of it. From being their bodyguard to their dates, to the sacred moments when he’d fuck her for Rhys. He was loyal to a fault but this was different. This was a hunger that had never been known to him, and he hadn’t an idea of how to satiate it.

Watching Rhys cum inside her served him, he greatly enjoyed watching - but a part of him questioned what would happen when the babe finally came to fruition. After over three months of dedicated fucking - and weekly fertility potions he, Rhys and the female were taking, he feared the time eas coming soon.

The anxiety of the looming date was something that had him searching for alternatives - going to pleasure houses when she wasn't in the mood, but finding nothing to be nearly as stimulating. He’d even tried to recreate the situation, hiring both male and female whores to serve him.

He hadn’t even finished.

Fear and frustration riddled his days when he wasn’t near her.

“Nothing new. I suggest two potions, if you can stomach it.” The healer - Madja, Rhys had informed you each visit - took her hands from just your public bone and brought out the oils she kept below the table.

“Let me do it, this time.” Rhys said, his tone light but saddened. She hesitated, her thick round glasses glinting in the filtered sun coming through the frosted window. It was a cold evening in Velaris, the last of winter going out with a bitter sigh. The skies would lighten and be warm soon, hopefully it would be after the summer months when a child took root in your belly.

The oils served as both a softening to your skin for any potential swelling from the potion, as well as a ritualistic method of fertility from another culture that the healer had mentioned on your first visit here. You’d been trembling and too anxious to recall exactly what it signified and to whom.

The fear came mainly from the judgment. Though the female hadn’t batted an eye when Rhsy has explained the situation, you were still met with stares and upturned noses in the streets when you ventured alone. The High Lord’s broodmare. The child-barer. The Whore. The titles were new, but the glares were something you were accustomed to as a thief and beggar before.

“West to East, High Lord.” Madja gave him a glare, and Rhys grinned. “Opposite of the sun cycle.” She enunciated the word, leading you to believe he’d done some rotten spellwork before by not following her directions.

“Of course.” He sketched a small bow, and you smacked him on the shoulder.

Azriel couldn’t help the grin that pulled at his lips. She was… He couldn’t describe it any other way aside from ideal. A tolerant soul with a mouth that-

He cut his thoughts off right then and there. Now was not the time for such ideas.

“Thank you.” You said, making meaningful eye contact with the wrinkled female. She had a kind enough look about her, but there was something about the way she carried herself that had your senses on edge.

Her smile was small, tugging at the corners of her leathery skin. “You’ll be a fine mother.” She nodded.

Despite her words, you worried you may never be able to uphold your end of the Bargain.

The tattoo at your clavicle ached.

You were no longe sore after their knots would fill you. Your body had grown accustom to the wonderful stretch of it, taking them with eager ease now. But even though he bit and lapped at you with the same passion as ever, Azriel’s cock seemed less ridigid, the roundness at the base hardly making an appearance even after several minutes of fucking into you.

“Stop.. stop-” You panted. As much as you would have love to cum on him, without his usual size it wasn’t going to happen. That was why he’d always gone second, coaxing that spot inside you over and over again until you broke upon him.

Your legs trembled as he rolled off of you, falling in the middle of you and Rhys. The High Lord handed him a towel, which he draped over his half hard cock. A flick of the hand and Azriel’s shadows set to work on you, collecting at the apex of your thighs in a cool, writhing bundle.

“Stop, Az-” The words were strangled, with the skilled tentacles already setting to work.

They disappeared, going into mist at the command. “Tell me what’s going on.” You demanded, turning on your side to face him. Rhys sat up, his brows pulled together.

Azriel sighed, and shook his head. “It’s nothing.” He put it simply, a male of few words. You knew better. “Tell me or-”

“Or what? You’ll leave? There’s no breaking that bond on your skin. Not until you bear a child.” He spat the words, his features hard, then softening the moment his eyes landed on you. He saw the way you recoiled, your body sagging and the distraught look on your face.

“Azriel-” Rhys began, the tone in authority ringing true and rattling your bones.

“I’m sorry.” Az covered his face with his hands, the raised pattern of his scars interrupted by the smooth lines of veins. “I’m sorry.” He sighed, and sat up as well.

He scooted back, his wings pinched tight against his back as he spoke. “I cant- Ahh.” He rubbed at his face again, his neck and cheeks going a deeper shade. You’d enver seen the shadowsinger so unsure, embarrassed even.

“I fear once you bear a child, that my life may be empty without you.” He said it while looking into your eyes, his own shining true with his statement. Rhys stiffened, his eyes going to you in part questioning himself. He couldnt’ deny he’d had similar thoughts.

“I have no intention of leaving the best sex I’ve ever had only because I am no longer contractually obligated to the sex.” You could have laughed at the obserdity of the idea. You’d called him your own pleasure keeper to his face, and he’d not only laughed but accepted the title. How could he think such things?

“A child may lessen passions for a short while, but from what I’ve heard…” You leaned in close to Azriel’s rounded ear. “Some females find their desires heightened after the babe’s born.”

He turned and looked at you, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips, then to your womb. He placed his hand there and sighed. “I apologize. My words reflect my fears, not how I feel about your faith.” He paused, and when Rhys spoke it was soft.

“I too fear the pregnancy for the same reason. As ridiculous as it is, it makes me wish to not cum, so I may keep the pleasure of this.” His mind reached to yours, and you allowed him entry. Both you and Azriel sucked in a breath at the sight of you riding the shadowsinger, from Rhys’s angle.

“That-” Azriel pushed the high lord from his mind, his cock already hardening from the sight. “-is why I can barely stay hard. I cant stop thinking of not cumming.”

An idea came to you then. A proof of sorts, that even if you did attempt to flee the deal, that them finding you was something you’d already anticipated. You weren’t sure if it would fix their fears, but it did remind you of something you’d always desired.

You straightened, then focused your mind. You’d been able to show them small things before, and now you tried again. “Allow me to show you something that may help.” You mind-spoke to them. It felt like mostly Rhys there, halfway into your mind, but he’d be able to relay the thought to Azriel.

You showed him the images, the birdseye view you imagined of yourself running, panting in a forest midday as you evaded something. Trained wolves and guards shouted behind you, and through the fear of being imprisoned, there was the arousal. The situation had only happened a few times, but each time there’d been that undercurrent that you couldn’t deny. The pleasure that pulsed through you with every stretch of your legs.

The idea of being caught, and made to do whatever they wished. As their prisoner. As their game. You swapped the guards for the night kissed wind of them, their presence, both them hunting you instead.

“Keep what you catch.” Was a phrase hunters used in the most desperate of times. Were they desperate enough?

“Criminal.” Rhys purred in approval. He passed the image to Azriel, who hissed and looked to you with surprise in his eyes. “Filthy thing-” He cursed.

Rhys summoned a set of wooden swords from a pocket of air, disturbing the chill breeze that rolled through the valley. The sun shone down on the trees, but did not reach the forest floor. The pines swayed and whispered, making serene music where you stood with them.

“You’ll need to break away from us first.” Rhys explained, twirling the sword from one hand to the other, testing the balance.

“If you manage to get a necklace from either of us, we’ll delay our pursuit by five minutes.” You looked to the long corded stone at his chest, the color of it nearly black. It shimmered with something, though. Azriels was more straightforward, a deep red jasper that he pulled from beneath his leathers. At the same time, Rhys shook the potion that he’d been determined to show off with. The one you’d jokingly suggested he should get to prevent him cheating in this endavor. It was to keep him from winnowing, apparently.

“I’m taking you both on?” Your voice rose with protest.

“Not yet-” Azriel muttered with a grin.

“Your choice who you’d like to face first.” Rhys said cordially.

You swung the sword, the weight of it unfamiliar and clunky in your hand.

Your eyes narrowed, and you pointed the tip to Rhys. “You’ll be first.”

He squared himself, taking up an expert fighting stance. Once he nodded, you ran at him.

This was only for show. He parried your strike easily, knocking the weapon to the ground beside him. You raised your hands in defense, then shot out at him with your mind - spearing him with the filthiest mental images you’d conjured over the last few months. He stuttered a step, freezing in place with his eyes wide. You struck, ripping the necklace from him and taking off into the trees while Azriel cackled behind you.

+++++++++

The blood was rushing in your ears, your legs singing with the effort of each step. The slickness in your cunt coudln’t be denied. You embraced it, finally able to accept that you did enjoy this. Running from males that would do exactly what they wanted to you. It sent a shiver through you before, but now… Knowing that they wouldn’t bring you true harm - it made you stumble more than a few times.

Rhys had planned this well. He’d taken you to a well of a valley floor, knowing you’d have to climb to get out. It’d give them a better shot at finding you faster. As the trees became thinner, the groundcover got thicker. Ferns and wiry shrubs reached out to whip your pumping arms and tangle in your hair.

You didn’t have to fight through it for long. Their trained breaths were behind you in only a few minutes, but you were determined to make it to the rushing water you heard ahead.

“You wont make it far.” Rhy’s voice bounced off the trees.

You kept running. Their laughing was upon you in moments, and you jolted to a stop before a wide, rushing stream. You’d nearly fallen in, your shoes even soaked with the groundwater that lapped at the shore.

Arms were around your midsection, whipping you around and attempting to trip you to the ground. You stood with wide footing though, and kicked back against the male - struggling against him with a ferocity that he didn’t expect. Rhys grunted, and Azriel was no longer laughing.

They took their roles seriously. It made your stomach flip, a wild - feral smile spreading across your face at Azriel holding a knife before you while he watched you fight against Rhys’s hold. “Stop now and make this easier.” Azriel’s voice was firm, commanding.

Rhys managed to pin your arms behind you, and you found yourself unable to kick back against him without losing what balance you had. Azriel stepped forward, knife extended to rest at your throat. His knckles met your collarbone, just above where that branding mark was. The heat of him sent your body alight even more. Rhys’s scent spiked with arousal and you couldn’t help but grind back against the bulge behind you.

Azriel’s hand went to your trousers pocket, digging in there with a few fingers, slowly, teasingly - cocking his head to the side when your jaw clenched. Rhys was breathing heavily behind you, and not from their run through the forest.

Az pulled the necklace free, and tutted his tongue disapprovingly. “Guess you like being up in that pillory, dont you?” He said teasingly. “Repeat criminals hardly ever change. Perhaps it’d be better if you saw a cell for a time-”

“I have money.” You gasped when Rhys placed something cold around your wrists.

“Stolen money’s no good to those who uphold the law of the night court.” Az drawled, and Rhys breathed a laugh at how true that was. Azriel was the one sent when something was to be dealt with. Rhys’s own personal bounty hunter. Azriel saw the connection being made. In this game, he suddenly became more than just a guard in his role, he was him. He was the Shadowsinger, sent to capture you. His eyes darkened, waiting for you to play along - to tell him exactly what you wanted.

“Are you willing to make a trade?” You panted, straining against whatever Rhys had placed on your wrists. He stood beside you now, holding you by the nape of the neck, his thumb tracing slow circles there - suggesting what was to come? Or playing up the corrupted guard role?

His knife trailed to your breast, pulling the low cut top away from your skin. His eyes went from your breasts to your eyes, and back again.

“I have what I came here for, thief. What more could I bother with from you?” Even with the sharp words, heat coursed through you. His knife pulled at the strap of your top, then let it snap back onto your skin. The scent of arousal was heavy now, thick and encouraging to the growing fire in your belly.

“I offer you myself, should you let me go free after.”

He bit down on a grin, then leaned in close, right beside Rhys when he said “Why would I barter when I can take what I want?”

The knife was gone, both his hands instead going to bend you to his will. One hand pulled you forward at the lower back, the other went straight to cup your pussy through your pants, the heel of his palm grinding down on to you.

A surprised cry came from your lips, but it was consumed by his lips on yours. His tongue was aggressive and immediate, forcing his way into your mouth, tasting you there, as he palmed against your clit. your hips flexed to meet him, and there was another set of hands at your breast, cutting your shirt free.

Rhys should have been appalled with himself. This was disgusting, horrid behavior but-

He couldn’t dispute the way Azriel’s aggression made his cock harden. How her helpless cries and half-attempts at getting away from Az made Rhys want to restrain her even more and force his cock down her throat until she choked on it.

He took a shuddering, uneven breath and reminded himself that this was what she’d wanted.

‘The more aggression the better.’ She’d said with a devious wink when going over safewords and off limits ideas.

So, Rhys took out the back of her knees, forcing her to fall before Azriel. The shadowsinger gripped the back of her head, and forced her face into the front of his pants, grinding his clothed dick over her cheek in a humiliating way. Degrading and so, so fucking hot. Rhys bit his lip at the sight of it. She attempted to pull back, but it only earned a yank of the hair, a warning to behave.

Rhys was out of his clothes quickly, the pine needles beneath his feet hardly registering against the surge of heat that swelled in him. Gods, his cock ached. It was only thanks to the potion he'd taken that there was a chase at all. If it were any less potent he likely would have ended up winnowing right in front of you before you'd crested the hill.

He gave himself a pump, then another before taking over, wrenching her face away from Azriel and pushing his slickened head to her lips. With her hands still bound, she had no defense aside from the way she pursed them together.

“Difficult thing.” Rhys tisked, then pinched her nose shut. She began getting red in the face, and when Azriel was done undressing, she’d run out of breath. Her mouth opened in a gasp, which Rhys quickly took for his own.

The heated wetness around him had a surge of precome leaking from him with eagerness. “Fu-uuck-” He ground out the word, reveling in the perfection of her mouth a moment before pulling out, and fisting a hand in her hair. The sloppy wetness that dripped from her lips only encouraged him more. He shoved her down on him, his head tipping down the back of her throat and making her eyes water. Azriel grunted in approval, his cock twitching and his hips flexing forward Into his palm at the scene.

Azriel’s shadows were a thick, writhing mess around him, waiting to be used for something. He allotted them a task, setting them free upon her legs - to spread them, and to tear through the leggings she wore. Not completely off, but enough so he’d be able to fuck her through them - and to get a taste of the arousal he’d followed the entire run here.

Rhy’s dick was ryhmic enough that you knew when you could take a breath, when you could gulp down enough air to take his next few strokes. What you hadn’t been prepared for, was the way Azriel’s shadows spread you legs, making you completely unable to fight against them, or even stand if you wanted to.

You were fully at their mercy now, and it made you burn with that knowledge. Your pussy clamped around pathetic emptiness, Writhing with want.

Drool fell from your lips in thick rivers mixed with Rhys’s precome. Your senses told you that Azriel was still near, and that there was something cold on your ass, but you couldn’t see anything other than Rhys’s abdomen. He supported you fully, his hands in your hair keeping you from falling forward, but it also kept you blind to everything else. You attempted to lift a leg and kick backwards, but it only made you gag on his cock without the needed support of both legs.

He pulled free after that, glistening trails of spit coating him. Before you could fall forward, a hand was at the tie on your wrists, holding you upright. Rhys nodded, then there was a ripping sound, and the chill on your ass was gone. You sucked in a breath, and there was suddenly a towel before you, and Rhys was sitting. So close you could feel the heat radiating from him, you were lowered and lowered, until your cheek rested against his thigh, staring at his reddedned dick like a worshipper. There was no denying you were.

Azriel’s tongue was hot against your hole - probing, coating you with his spit. You arched, gasping in surprise but there was nowhere you could move, your head rolled to one side, so you could bite down on Rhys’s thigh, but it didn’t keep Azriel from fucking your ass. His tongue darted over it again and again, working you open slowly - your surprised gasps turned into needy moans, the stimulation making you a living fire. You could feel the wetness soaking your leggings, and you wondered how large of a wet spot appeared there.

“Put your mouth to use.” Rhys grunted, his tone almost angry. He lifted your head and guided you to his cock, his ass flexing - gods he needed this, badly. Your mind buzzed with the satisfatiction of it. Though you were bent at their will, you were driving them mad.

Azriel’s managed to work two fingers into your ass before trailing hid tongue downward, using the flat of his tongue against your slickened pussy. His fingers pumped deep, flexing outwards to stretch your hole. It was a sweet thing, tender though the situation did not call for it. They’d given you plenty of toys to train for just this.

He hummed at the taste of you, at the heat and need he could sense building in you. Your pussy clenched around his tongue. “Filthy thing-” He said to himself, the sharp crack of one of his hands landing on your asscheek.

Rhys pulled your mouth from him, and you fell forward, lifting enough so that you could press against his chest instead of his thigh - a small rebellion, you could only do so much now. He shimmied down, so he could be below you and line up with your slick folds. You groaned when his tip pressed eagerly into your slit, rocking back against him as much as you could with your legs as exhausted as they were. Was this the real reason they’d had your starting point be downhill?

The heat of Azriel’s cock joined, also pressing into your pussy. A swell of fear threatened to overtake you, then. There was no way you could take them both-

Rhys sucked in a breath, and he scooted down a bit farther, so your head rested against his collarbone now. His cock pressed at your ass, and your eyes rolled back.

Azriel knew he wouldn’t last long. Not with her being so fucking compliant in this - He forced himself to focus, willing his need to dampen for a moment. He guided Rhys’s cock to the hole he’d worked first, pumping his high lord’s cock with his saliva - coating him with spit before pressing the rounded tip to her hole. The sound she made had his body rolling, uncontrollably thrusting forward into the air like a godsdamned animal.

He now wished he’d taken Rhys’s offer and had the male suck him off earlier in the day.

Rhys blew out a breath as he sunk in, deeper and deeper, until he couldn’t move much more. Only about half of him was fully seated, but it was more than enough. Azriel could tell by now what her desperate signs were for when she was close, and he was glad he wasn’t the only one overstimulated and ready to cum.

“Taking him so fucking good.” He praised in her ear, brushing the hair to one side so he could see her expression. “Gonna fill you up, make you both of ours.” He was muttering, when she rolled her hips and the tip of him brushed her heated folds. His hand cracked across her ass again, drawing a strangled groan from Rhys.

Azriel smirked. He knew how she tightened up when she had her ass smacked. The high lord’s eyes smoldered, and Azriel caught him in a quick, wet kiss before leaning back and taking his own cock into his hand.

He rubbed his tip against your folds, slickening himself. “This is what happens to thieves in the Night Court.” He smiled, then thrust into you in one long, smooth motion. Your body arched, toes curling inside your boots as he bottomed out. Full. So fucking full and still, desire demanded your attention. The fire was not dulling, like it normally did after one of them entered you - no, it seemed to grow even more aggressive. A flame that kept spreading, throughout your thighs and into your belly, the warmth spread and the need of them both - for more made your teeth gnash together.

The thin wall that separated their cocks from each other had you rocking back onto them both, earning what fractions of inches you could. Rhys adjusted, his hips flexing upwards to give you more, but it still wasn’t enough.

Some mental communication passed from him to Rhys, and your arms were free, your shoulders singing in pain as they were wrenched forwards, then re-tied in front of you. Rhys lifted them, then brought your hands around the back of his neck. Still just as trapped as before, only now you could at least support yourself.

It was a blessing. You rocked back into every one of Azriel’s thrusts, earning whispered filth from his lips. The wet sound of your pussy around him filled the forest, along with your breathy moans. Gods, with Rhys so paitenetly nudging into you, and with Azriel fucking you with such ferocity… your muscles quivered, earning hesitation and sharp hisses from them both.

You still had some power, here.

His shaft rubbed with Rhys’s making him even more needy than he’d anticipated. His knot was swelling quickly, every instinct in him yearning to spill inside of her- to lock his knot in place and fuck her through her orgasms upon it.

Watching Rhys’s small thrusts into her ass was not an option. He’d looked down once already and nearly came from the sight of it. So instead he watched the high lord, and the back of her gorgeous hair. He watched the way her body would flex and roll, then squeeze down on them.

His knot was catching already, and Rhys could tell. The high lord glanced from her to the shadowsinger. “Take her, make her come.” He encouraged. The mental image of the three of them appeared, Rhys filling her mouth with Azriel locked inside her pussy.

“Not the plan-” Azriel ground out, forcing his desire to lessen. He focused instead on the sound of the brook that she’d nearly ran into. He wanted to fill her, to fuck her ass and her pussy together until cum dripped from both holes and-

“Azriel - I won’t cum. Not now, anyway. Fuck her right.” The husky words were all his willpower could stand. He grunted, buiting the inside of his cheek and pulled his cock free from the sodden leggings he’d ripped. Her gasp and protest had his ego soaring.

Rhys worked himself free of her ass, and from around her bound arms. He spat in his palm, and began stroking himself, his knot hardly formed. Azriel felt a pang of jealously at the male’s control, the restraint he had.

Without your arms bound, and with their hesitation at what to do next, you took it as an opportunity. You sung your arms around, forming them into fists, and nearly caught Azriel in the head with them - but a thick tentacle of shadow halted you.

He struck an instant later. One hand on your collarbone,he shoved you back onto the pokey forest floor, and you clambored against him. The shadow locked your arms above your head, but it didn’t deter your fight.

You brought your knees to your chest and pushed at him, though he pressed down on you with the mass of his muscle. One hand was all it took to pin you to the floor, you’d make sure he’d have to fight more than that.

“Vicious theif-” He grunted with the knee you threw to his ribs,but it’d been your folly. With his other hand, he brought a leg up so it was flush against his chest, your foot resting beside his ear.. You couldn’t kick him away now, but you didn’t want to. You’d wanted this - wanted the fight, wanted to see what lengths he’d take to get to your pussy.

He hadn’t disappointed. He gripped both your legs and pulled them tight to his chest, raising your ass off the ground. He swiped the tip of his cock over your clit, rubbing deliciously. Your hips rolled. Thankfully, he wasn’t a male of vengeance - not now anyway. He entered you, and resumed the same pace he’d had before. Long, dragging strokes that had your ass clapping against his thighs.

Your folds were tighter in this position, and the stretch it brought seared through you. Your body was capable, but this was a position that had you seeing stars. Your body ached to cum, but you held off. This was supposed to last longer.

Rhys joined, kneeling at your side to dip between your pressed thighs. You pulled at the restraints, testing the shadows above your head. They did not budge. Your walls squeezed him, and his eyes squeezed shut. “I’m-” You panted, not wanting to admit that you were close.

“Good. I’m not gonna cum until you do first, sweetheart.” Azriels words rang true, You could feel how much his knot had swollen from your struggle, and a delightful purr of ecstasy filled you. You’d definitely be getting punished more in the future.

Azriel’s cock rammed into you, he flicked his hips forward and up at that perfect angle that he knew would set you off. Your legs shook, wetness dribbling down to your ass with every thrust. “That’s right..” Rhys purred, his fingers leaving your clit to play with himself instead.

You didn’t need his fingers. Not with Azriel fucking you like this, with every stroke brutally pushing into your most sensitive spot- hot white pleasure surged through you. His knot pressed at your entrance, stretching your lips apart with each re-entry.

In this position, your tight heat was already something that had him barely hanging on, and it had him more impatient than he’d ever been. He’d said he wouldn’t cum yet. He couldn’t. So he fucked into you with stokes he knew would have you begging, getting you to the edge in record time. He could tell from the way your cheeks heated, from how red your lips were - and from the deadly way your pussy gripped at the base of his knot. He swore. Every stroke became harder to remain in control.

A scarred hand went to your throat, gently pressing there - control. Control and power and you were nothing but theirs -his- Azriel’s plaything. A fucktoy for him- Your mind spiraled, overtaken by the inferno inside of you.

Your insides spasmed around him, a gush of hot liquid gushing from your pussy. The knife’s edge of pleasure. The precipice of a violent orgasm held you for a moment, then rocked through you. You trembled, pleasure consuming everything, setting your very bones alight with the exquisite orgasm. So intense and burning that your sight was lost from you for the first few moments.

Azriel’s knot came back along with your vision, amplifying the pleasure to an extent you could barely register as you quivered around him, squeezing him tight inside of you. The panting, shuddering breathing, the tight hold he had on your thighs as he spilled into you had you squirming again, your wrecked body contending for another orgasm, even while the waves of your first careened through you.

His cum filled you, hoarse moans falling from his lips as he still fucked into you. The small movements of his swollen knot inside urging that second round of pleasure through you.

Rhys was swearing darkly, his own knot more formed than before now. You couldn’t help but smile at that. Azriel’s hands shook when he parted your legs. You let them fall behind him, knees hooking weakly around him. He lifted your hips and fucked you softly, his knot pulling at your entrance like he knew you enjoyed.

He rode you through six more orgasms before he’d softened enough to pull free. After, Rhys had devoured your sensitive clit, earning double digits before the golden sunset painted the trees a fiery orange.

“We should go soon.” You muttered, breathless with both of them lying at either side of you.

“Shut up.” Rhys said, voice hoarse as he fingered you - slickening your clit with the remnants of Azriel’s cum.

You’d borrowed a coat from Azriel, seeing how they’d torn yours during your frenzied, handsy encounter.

The walk to the nearest town had made your already trembling legs even weaker, but you’d made it without too much whining. Rhys was still unable to winnow, the potion you’d challenged him to take still in his bloodstream.

The first scent of food hit you hard. Your mouth watered at the smell of buttered and fried goods. The gnawing hunger in your gut whined. The way they had you working for them was proving to be a huge calorie deficit, and you were starved.

“Ill find us something subtle.” Azriel said simply, then he was gone - sucked into the shadows that lingered outside the town.

“Let’s get you something nice.” Rhys smiled, his eyes grazing over you with a predator’s insight. Your tights had been something of a display once they were done with you, and the only thing saving you from looking like a hired whore was the length of Azriel’s coat covering your bottom.

“What in the name of the Mother are you wearing?” Azriel’s clipped tone revealed near anger, and your cheeks heated with the eyes that darted towards you.

The place he’d chosen was a busy, dark and shambled thing. Easy to be lost in, perfect for your party. To be expected from the Shadowsinger. What you hadn’t expected was the way his cheeks went bright at the sight of you. The low cut tunic and leather pants weren’t unusual in this area, but them being skin tight drew more than just your partners eyes.

“It was all they had.” You provided simply.

“And doesnt she look delectable?” Rhys encouraged, his eyes barely leaving your body to look to Azriel.

The shadowsinger stood silent, stoic as a statue for a moment before sitting back in the horseshoe shaped booth. You sat between them, at the apex and looked over the menu.

Rhys laughed suddenly, and Azriel snarled. You looked up, to the windows and scanned the crowd. The fae at the table beside the window hid behind their coats and drinks. You looked to Rhys, puzzled.

“He doesn’t like the other males looking.” he explained.”I think it’s admirable. Who could help themselves, with you looking like that?”

“She’s not for them.” Azriel growled, making your stomach flip. The look on his face promised violence.

You reached over, gripping his muscled thigh. “It’s alright.” You promised, circling your fingers low there, tracing the seam of his leathers up and up until he caught your hand in his.

He let out a breath, his head tipping back. The menu in his other hand grew wrinkled marks from where he gripped it. “Easy.” He warned. Rhys grinned, and shifted closer to you.

The criminal in you delighted at his reaction. Once he let go of your hand, you idly browsed the menu, using it as a distraction before pacing your hand back on his leg, inching upwards in small, sneaky motions until resting at his hip, only a few inches away from the buttons of the trousers he wore.

Rhys took your other hand once the server had taken your orders, and was not discreet in the way he placed it directly atop the hardness in his pants. You sucked in a breath, and he didn’t even bother to look at you. You pressed down on him, squeezing him rhythmically. Azriel’s own member responded, twithinching beneath the cloth.

“Greedy, filthy… delectable thing.” Rhys mind-spoke, his tone a purr that had your thighs squeezing together tight.

There was a splash of liquid, the clattering of drinks and cold wetness covered your shoulder, running down your chest. The bar quieted, then picked back up an instant later. You sat up in shock, avoiding the water that covered your seat. The server was apologizing, but you could only hear the muttered swearing coming from Rhys.

His eyes were locked on to your soaked breasts, the heat there immeasurable.

The world turns black and silver in a breath, the table is shattered, knocked to the ground outside your booth and Rhys is before you, his head going to your top and palming the fabric, hid tongue going to the lap at the wetness on your skin st your breast.

Your breasts fall out of the top easily as Rhys unlaces the front. There are gasps, the sound of chairs being moved and laughs all around. None of it matters. Rhys’s hot mouth is the only thing your mind can narrow in on.

The servers’ apologies go silent, and there is a low rumbling of voices and shouts that you can pay no attention to, not as Azriel is gripping the back of your head and forcing his tongue into your mouth. His tongue goes from slow and tender to quick and demanding, forcing your own tongue to still in your mouth as he explores.

The pleasure of Rhys’s mouth on your nipples is something that has your weakend legs shaking. Once the laces are loosened, he pulls the top up over your head, his eyes wild with need as he consumes you in his own hot, desperate kiss that has you rolling your body into his.

Azriel is gone for a moment, and Rhys is turning you, pushing you back until your legs hit something solid - the window table. When you open your eyes, the crowd that had been closest is now watching you, hungry looks in their eyes.

The fear and shame gripped you for a moment, and you covered your chest. “Rhys we should-”

“They’ll deal with it.” He growled. “Most of them enjoy this kind of entertainment, they’re lucky we’re not changing them. Consider it a donation.” He said in that high lord’s arrogant voice that you’ve come to know.

The curtains fall over the fogged windows,, opaque and filled with holes, smelling of dust and stained. While Rhys consumes you in another kiss, Azriel appears at your side again, his face flushed. His hands are on your thighs, petting you, rubbing his hands across the too-tight trousers and fisting a hand in the cloth. He guides you to sit atop the table, where Rhys kneels before you.

His fingers hook around the belt loops of the pants. “Off, this time.” He commands, his tone giving no room for debate. You comply, using his shoulders to lift yourself off the table enough to let them see you - to let the entire bar see you fully.

Azriel is stripping off as well, unashamed by the looks the strangers give him. None of them bad, mostly admiring. Some of the crowd even begin touching themselves, rubbing and stroking over their clothes as Rhys takes his first lick of you.

His tongue moves slowly, and thoroughly on your clit - lapping at you with a tenderness that had your mind going to a much more leisurely place. He rolls, flicks and kisses there like a male without another purpose. He has you arching up, grinding to him within only a few minutes.

Azriel strokes himself at the same pace as Rhysand’s movements, the two of them matching pace like they weren’t surrounded by others watching. You turn your head to take Azriel into your mouth, but he denys you this. He takes your hand instead, having you stroke him while he watches the crowd. In part, he’s looking for threats, any that would dare to interrupt them - another part because he enjoyed the way the strangers stared, desire and envy filling their gazes.

Rhys’s fingers enter you, then pause, he plays with you at the entrance, noting what movements make you squirm and buck. He loves this. He revels in these moments where his patience isn’t worn so thin. He doesn’t want to have you fully on display, though. Not now. He’d rather have you screaming for him on his own bed.

So he thrusts his fingers deep inside you and curls them, angling in that spot that Azriel is able to brush against with the tip of his cock - but it’s never this firm. It’s never as intense and mind-splitting as either of their fingers are. It ignites a new flurry of need inside of you so quickly, and they know it. It forces you from being moderately turned on to nearly cumming in their hands in moments, and knowing that, they abuse it.

They flick at that spot with brutal efficiency, knowing exactly when to stop because your legs begin to shake with the force of the beginning of the orgasm they build. They’re cruel brutes, but you’d never had better sex. Maybe having someone brutal was a requirement after being with them. If you’d ever need anyone else.

He pulls his fingers out, and puts them to your lips, your wetness tart and sweet against your tongue.. You take them greedily, sucking them clean and playing with his fingers just how you would their cocks. It always drives them mad, and you know it. Unstable heat courses through your body, your legs trembling, hooking around Rhys’ hips with the urging, pulsing demands of an orgasm.

But he holds his fingers there in your mouth, pinning your mouth open, and nods to Azriel. He steps closer, and slides his cock into your mouth while Rhys restraints you open.

The order is clear enough, and you don’t attempt to close your lips around the shadowsinger. Control. Rhys and Azriel are always battling for control in their own ways. Something about it turns all of you on so incredibly - the proof of the fact apparent in the taste of Azriel’s thick precome. The tip of his cock rubs against the back of your tongue a few times, coating him with your spit, and Rhys finally relents and allows your jaw free from his grasp. You take Azriel into your mouth, moaning at the sensation - the weight of him there.

Rhys nudges into your pussy while you’re sucking Azriel, and there’s distant curses and hisses of pleasure. Coats fall to the floor, and you’re pretty sure you hear others moaning as they begin fucking as well.

Azriel pulls away, leaving dribble on your mouth when he does. He steps back and gets atop the table behind you, his cock hanging heavy right above your head.

Your legs pull Rhys in much faster than he was intending on, and because of this, his eyes go wide, his lips pull back from his teeth in a growl. He holds down your hip with a hard, bruising hand while his other goes to your neck - pinning you in place. “You’re mine, and I’ll take you how I please.” He growls out, leaning down to say it right into your ear.

Your body melts, relaxing fully to his control - to the demands he’s placed. A part of you wants to rebel, to kick at him and see just how far he’d take this, but the other part of you says that he’d likely not let you cum if you questioned him now. Not in front of these people. Even if they didn’t realise that he was their high lord, he would not be undermined in this moment.

“Yes sir.” You said voice strained around his light hold, giving him a coy grin when he pulled away to look at your face.

His cock surged, tipping up inside you and making your hips roll as much as they could. You wanted to fold your legs together, to have him fuck you how Azriel did earlier because this - this was too much restraint, too much easy and slow fucking for what your desire reqired.

Your insides were soaked, gushing with need and he was here taking you as if you were his bride. You whined low in your throat, wanting to squirm and have him fuck you.

You close your eyes, no matter how much you love seeing Azriel above you, all the movement from the crowd is growing distracting and you need to focus on feeling. The way Rhys’s cock slides in and out of you with perfect, wet slaps. The way he pulls out to the tip, solid and heavy and teasing at your entrance, before slipping right back in. The crowd echos your moans, growing louder with each thrust.

Rhys feels Like a god in this position. He pounds into her so sweetly that it barely rocks the table. The feral sounds she's making are a symphony of yearning and hunger. He can't stand the slow pace, his knot is already halfway engorged and he has little patience left for the power game he plays.

He slides you down off the table, leaving your hips supported only by the strength of his hands. You curl your legs around him, pulling him in deeper and -gods, a shocked gasp leaves you at the size of his knot as your movement forces it in and deep. He angles his hips foward, and his control is gone. He pulls out, and shoves back in in quick, wild thrusts. You cry out, hands reaching for anything to grip on to while a pre-orgasm hits you, making your walls quiver around him in strange pulses.

You reach for the edge of the table, but Azriel’s hand catches yours instead. He twines his fingers through yours, never backing down from the way you squeezed his hand tight. “As much as I want to hear you…” He mutters, then his cock is at your lips, and you suck at him greedily, moaning around his length and gripping his thigh with your free hand. Your nails bite into his skin there, but it only heightens his pleasure.

Your heels spur Rhys on, and in his fervor he knows hes losing control. He also knows that he still can’t winnow, and that he’s about to cum and lock you together with him so tightly that you wont be able to leave for a long while after this. He knows he should stop, that he should at the very least pull out to cum on you.

But all the knowledge in the world couldn’t keep him from being a worshiper to your body - to this blessed pussy and glorious mouth and- His knot locks in place, and he has only a few more shallow thrusts within the range of his motion before he’s seeing nothing, feeling nothing but the hot pressure of his release and the pussy clamping on his cock, milking the orgasm from him. The tension finally released, and the rest coming like waves off of a mountainside.

Your body convulses, hips bucking forward and writhing on Rhys’s knot the moment it settles deep inside you. He’s bowing his head, hunching forward and rocking into you as much as he can and Azriel pulls free from your mouth, his own knot getting too wide for your mouth towards the end.

Then, you feel the dribbling heat of Rhys’s cum spilling inside you, and something inside your own body responds with eager pride and takes a hold of you. Your body is twitching around him, taking his cock and squeezing it so tightly that it has your entrance stretching almost painfully. You’re building up to an immense release when Azriel’s swearing, then cumming on your neck and chest, thick streams of it landing even at your hipbone. Rhys is there quickly, lapping at the spots of it on your breast.

White molten heat explodes inside you, your orgasm pulsing through every vein, tendon - you can practically feeling it hum your very bones. You’ve been flung from a precipice you didn’t realise how hard you held on to. You were in freefall, and hitting every single cloud of mind-rocking pleasure was possible.

His member doesn’t soften, doesn’t relent during your waves of ecstasy. He fucks into you as much as he can, re gripping your hips in his hands and rolling forward, his own body shaking. His mouth goes from Azriel’s cum to your nipple, biting there, rolling the peak with his tongue. The stimulation is overwhelming, and you dig your fingers into his back.

“Fucking incredible.” one of them sighs. You can’t tell who, everything is distant and fuzzy as the waves of orgasm pummel you.

You’re exhausted by the time they recede, and by then Azriel has pulled on a pair of pants and has been petting your hair for some amount of time.

A male approaches from the crowd, holding his cock that jutted through the seam of his trousers. He’s handsome, and smiles at you hungirly. “I’ll take her next.” He says, confidence radatinging out of him.

Azriel’s eyes go wide, and he stands to face off with the male. There is clearly challenge in his poise, but the male seems to pay no mind. “Or I’ll take you. Either way-”

Azriel has a wicked shadow, curved like a knife in his hand in the next breath. “You will die b-”

Rhys groans, and pulls a blanket of darkness over the three of you, and you’re falling upon the familiar bedspread of the townhome. The smells are comforting, homey and make sleep impossible to avoid.

“Don't-” Rhys pants softly, his knot still swollen and throbbing inside of you. “Threaten someone when I can’t even get my dick free.” He lays his head on your chest, pulling Azriel down to lay with the two of you.

A warmth radiates on your lower abdomen a few minutes later. When you go to protest another round of sex, you find that it's Azriel, gently massaging the oil from the healer into your skin.

#acotar fic #azriel x reader #reader x azriel #reader insert #reader x rhysand #rhysand x reader #reader x rhys #rhys x reader #abo fic #abo themes #abo #alpha beta omega #alpha beta omega fic #alpha beta omega themes #rhysand #azriel #shadowsinger #a court of thorns and roses fanfic #a court of thorns fic

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mrs-elsie-barnes · 4 months ago

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Thank you for the tag!

Hands reached for yours, tangling your fingers together, and then your hands were above your head, pinned to the wall in one of Azriel’s large palms.

Tagging: @late-to-the-party-81 @lokisgoodgirl @nicoline1998enilocin

I was tagged by both @witchywithwhiskey and @stargazingfangirl18 to share a line from a WIP:

(thank you for the tag, my lovelies!)

"I want to take you to dinner, but I need to take you to my bed."

no pressure tagging: @labella420 @buckysburdens @jobean12-blog @mrs-illyrian-baby @ghotifishreads @thezombieprostitute and anyone else who wants to play

#tag games #Alpha Azriel

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velarisbynight · 3 months ago

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A Night Of Convenience

Azriel x Eris

For Day 3 of @acotar-omegaverse-week — All Tied Up: Oh, you're tied up so you don't do anything you'll regret during your heat? Would be a shame if someone... came along and messed up that plan for you :)

a/n: please keep on scrolling if Azris or omegaverse isn’t your thing!

warnings: dry humping/grinding; dubcon since Azriel’s in heat; enemies to lovers vibes?; personally I’d argue bdsm vibes since Azriel’s actually chained up but whatever floats your boat

word count: 3.4k~

~~~~~~~~

Azriel leans his head back against the cold, crooked rock of the cave, his breath misting in the frigid air. The wind howls around the mountain, whipping at the brutal stone, rain likely lashing down from the thunderous storm clouds he’d seen on the treacherous flight up here with his brothers.

It had taken a lot of persuading to get them to comply, but he’d managed. After all, they’re both alphas—he can’t expect them to understand the humiliation of his heat, inherently submissive when compared to a rut. He can’t stand it, the degradation of his body being so out of his control. He doesn’t want to make a scene…do something he’d regret once it’s passed.

The gorsian shackles bite at his wrists and ankles, a wider, much thicker band of iron clamped around his waist. It’s uncomfortable, to say the least—there’s no way to sit without his wings snagging on a jagged edge of rock, or brushing against the icy bite of the chains—but it’s never going to be a comfortable experience. He just wishes it was a little warmer in here, that his toes and fingers weren’t already tingling with numbness—maybe he should have waited a little longer before bringing himself up here, waited for the symptoms to begin manifesting so he doesn’t have to suffer additional hours of intense discomfort. If only there was something warm…a fire, or even a blanket…something that would smell of woodsmoke, and ease the tension in his body…

Rich, spicy blood trickles down his chin, lip turned white around the edges from where his canine has pierced the skin. At least it’s hot, scalding his tongue when he swipes it away.

Why did he have to be born this way? A bastard and an omega.

Forget picking the short stick, he didn’t even get to draw.

Water vapour gathers on the rock ceiling, coalescing into condensation, running down the tip of a stalactite before dripping down the nap of his neck. He shivers.

Something clicks in the far off distance, the noise muffled and blurred from echoes as it hums to him through the deep tunnel system. The clicking continues, coming closer, until the tip-tap of those stiletto heeled shoes comes to a stop at the far end of the cave. Even through the slight haze that has crept into Azriel’s eyes he knows the figure.

Amber eyes cut through the darkness like searing steel fresh from a forge. “You look comfortable.”

Azriel’s spine turns ramrod straight, muscle curling taut through his warrior’s body, resplendent golden thread stitching his lungs shut. Eris’ gaze flickers approvingly, and Azriel’s lip curls with fury. “What are you doing here?” He puts as much ice into his voice as he can manage. But it belies the emotion swirling within his chest, raging inside his mind—relief at finding company, and revulsion Eris would seek him out in a moment like this.

But Eris shakes his head, strong arms folding across his narrow chest, sleek and powerful. “You know, it’s not just your problem, Azriel. It’s mine, too.” His name sends a shiver up his spine, forcing his wings to tuck in tight so as not to reveal the biological reactions. He’s vulnerable enough as it is.

“Get out.”

Eris looks him over, a bored look on his sharp features. Then the clicking starts again, leisurely striding toward him.

Azriel snarls, getting to his feet, his body made heavier by the weakening hormones beginning to seep into his bloodstream. “I won’t tell you again,” Azriel mutters, wings flaring in warning as the alpha steps closer, entering his circle.

“And what will you do, omega?” Eris asks, coming to a smooth halt less than a step away. “You’re chained up. In gorsian shackles, no less. Where are those shadows of yours?”

“You have no right to be here.”

“No? You’re going to reject it? We both know that would be a worse choice for you. An omega can’t survive without its—”

“Shut up.” Azriel hisses. The centres of his palms surely have indents in them by now. “I don’t need you.”

“Yes, you do.” Eris steps closer, close enough Azriel tries to shift his head to the side so he won’t have to take the male’s scent into his lungs, so it won’t catalyse the inevitable heat that’s beginning to stir to life in his body, his pulse beginning to spike.

“You have me now.” Eris says, and Azriel’s body turns rigid when the heirling places an owning palm atop his heart, exuding proprietary entitlement. “It’ll be worse without me.”

“I’d rather die.”

“And then I’ll be left without a mate. That can’t happen.”

Gods, Azriel can feel his skin warming. There’s a tightness in his throat that shouldn’t be there, a shallowness to his breath that signals the commencement of his heat. Azriel’s pulse spikes when Eris’ hand lifts higher, stepping closer still. Close enough that he’s trapped, wings already scratching against jagged rock. Eris’ palm stops at his jaw, the nail of his thumb grazing across Azriel’s cheek.

“I won’t tell anybody,” Eris murmurs, amber eyes like molten magma, searing into his flesh, stoking the embers of what will quickly become wildfire. “I can feel it. It’s beginning to compound.”

“You have no right.” Azriel hisses through gritted teeth, blood rushing around his ears, a familiar tingle beginning to spread through his legs. “Unhand me.”

Amber eyes burn.

Azriel’s blood scalds his veins, heat accumulating swiftly, catalysed by this male’s invasion.

A muscle flickers in Eris’ jaw. And he steps away.

Azriel’s chains rattle as he instinctively takes a step forward, chasing the touch, but forces his body to freeze. Teeth grinding, wings pulled taut at his back.

“You want me.” Eris mutters, a lick of flame in his amber eyes.

“I hate you.” Azriel snarls.

“They can coexist.”

Azriel needles the male with an icy glare, cold enough to burn. Eris watches quietly, his sharp eyes narrowed.

“Do your brothers know about me?” Eris asks, the honed edge of his drawl making sweat bead down Azriel’s spine. Skin prickling beneath the serrated tone. “There’s nothing to tell them.” Azriel spits lowly, wings beginning to shiver. “You could die this time. You’re happy with none of them knowing why?”

“I think it would be a mercy to pass without any of them knowing who I’d been mated to.”

Eris’ lip curls in a barely suppressed snarl, and Azriel has to steel himself against the urge for his legs to buckle, weakness flooding through his body. Amber eyes lick over his figure once, before hot, rough palms are pushing against his chest, a compact, distinctly male body pressing to Azriel’s, a thigh between his legs. A shocked breath of air is snatched to the shadowsinger’s lungs, eyes marginally widened at the close proximity, the rampant heat bursting in his lower body in response to such a relatively minor touch.

“Fine.” Eris bites out against his mouth, almost close enough to taste the fiery male. “Have it your way. But I’m staying right here. You aren’t the only one this will affect now you’re tied to me.”

“Like anything you’ll experience will even compare,” Azriel hisses before he can stop himself. Long, deft fingers curl themselves in the collar of Azriel’s shirt, scrunching the fabric in the male’s large fist as Eris forcefully drags him closer, mouths less than an inch apart, able to feel hot, harsh breath ghosting across his skin. “It wouldn’t have to be a trial for you if you’d let me help. Like it or not, we’re in this together. So either you can make it hard on yourself, or we can cooperate.” Eris’ eye burn like ruby flames. “Let me help you.”

In the time between Eris first appearing and now, Azriel’s discipline has rapidly deteriorated. His discipline quickly slipping the leash with alarming skill as Eris shifts his hip, the toned muscle of his thigh rubbing against the seam of Azriel’s leathers. The Shadowsinger grits his teeth, jaw working almost painfully. He forces his gaze elsewhere, being drawn in by the hypnotising burn of colour in his-…in Eris’ eyes. Azriel drags breath into his lungs, inhaling through his nose, humiliation rushing his abdomen at the prominence of his own arousal—how it’s already thickly permeating the air, turning it denser; smokier.

Azriel’s scent shouldn’t be smoky.

Hazel eyes slide open, half-glazed. “You’re enjoying this,” Azriel bites out, every syllable an effort to drag from his throat. A beat passes, and Eris holds his gaze. Now Azriel has identified that scent, what it means, the hunger seems obvious. Fury barrels through the haze of his mind, adrenaline returning enough sense to his muscles to grab at Eris’ shoulders, shoving him firmly, keeping the flat-tips of his fingers biting into the heirling’s flesh. Azriel hopes it hurts. Hopes he can squeeze and pop bones out of place.

“You came here knowing you were going into rut?” Azriel snarls, noting how the flame blazes in Eris’ gaze at the mention of his state. “You’re a fucking piece of work, Vanserra.” But Eris retaliates, strengthening his already brutal grip on Azriel’s shirt, overpowering the weakened Spymaster as hormones begin to spike. “I came here because your heat triggered it,” Eris growls, tugging so hard at the fabric Azriel hears it begin to rip. “Have you clocked that yet, omega? We’re tied to one another. If you don’t survive this heat without me, I’ll be having to deal with something far worse.”

“So you want me to let you fuck me just so you don’t have to deal with that?” Azriel gives a harsh, derisive laugh. “Like I’d ever make it that easy for you. If this kills me I’ll go happily knowing you never got your hands on me.”

“And you said I was the piece of fucking work.” Eris hisses over Azriel’s mouth, lips brushing, pupils dilating with hunger. “You’re really so proud you’ll let yourself die over something like this?”

Azriel smirks. “I might make it.”

Eris shoves the Shadowsinger back, a hiss of fury mixed with pain releasing from his mouth as rock abrades the sensitive membrane of his wings. Shared breath mixes between them, both brandishing hot tempers while fighting against raging instincts. Fighting on two fronts. Eris swallows once, attempting to sooth the white-hot flame burning in his blood. “By Autumn Court law I have every right to you,” he breathes, fingers lessening on Azriel’s shirt but not releasing. “And by Night Court law I am free to claim you, now that a bond has made itself clear.”

“And I’ve told you I’d rather die.”

Eris’ nostrils flare, his jaw wound impossibly tight.

He releases Azriel. Steps back. Puts some distance between them. No more than a few steps. Eris can’t make himself move any further.

“I wouldn’t have spent so much effort on trying to convince you if I wasn’t going to listen to your opposition.” Eris says at last, amber eyes hot and molten. “I said I would at least stay here. I won’t do anything you don’t want.”

“Like I’ll believe a single word from your—”

“Shut up.” Eris snarls, voice ablaze with white-hot dominance.

Azriel’s mouth seals shut, wings tucking meekly at his back, knees nearly buckling at the command.

Eris runs a hand through his hair. “I came here to offer help—help that would be mutually beneficial. Even you can see that.” Azriel’s lip curls but he says nothing. “Like I said before: hate and want can coexist.”

“Well I don’t want you.”

Eris turns on his heel, clicking sternly across the uneven rock floor and Azriel braces himself for the rough shove to his shoulders, the winding punch to the gut, a kick to the stomach. Instead a hot, rough palm slides around the nape of his neck, fingers threading pleasurably through his silky hair, his hazel eyes fluttering with a surge of dizziness. Another palm settles at his jaw, tilting his chin, angling him right. “You don’t want me?” Eris whispers. “Then one kiss should be fine. Right?”

Azriel’s pulse spikes in his chest. Staggering heat accumulating between his legs. Just Eris’ mouth on top of his, Eris’ tongue flicking against his own, Eris’ body pressed tight against another. Just his alpha touching him exactly as he’s supposed to. Amber eyes are staring into him but Azriel’s gaze has been caught by the heirling’s lips. Rosey, elegantly narrow, parted. Inviting and taunting. Azriel manages a half nod.

“Ask me.”

Azriel drags resentful eyes up to the heirling’s, but the reproach dissipates when he’s met with sincerity. Eris wants Azriel to clearly say it himself.

Azriel swallows. He won’t be able to lie to himself and pretend it was out of his control. He’s still more than aware enough to know what’s going on. He won’t be able to spin this against the male pressed so close to his body. Whose thigh had briefly been between his legs. How good that had felt.

“Kiss me,” Azriel breathes.

Eris’ eyes flicker, then a warm, narrow mouth is pushing to his own. Lips that taste of warm spices with a hint of brown sugar caramelising on his tongue. Chains clink at Azriel’s sides, then silky hair is threaded between his fingers, his pulse beginning to sooth its sharp, snare-drum-staccato beat. A pleasant pressure presses between his legs, Eris’ hip ghosting across the front of Azriel’s leathers, delicately inclining his weight into the Illyrian so he can feel the firm, powerful pressure against him. Azriel’s hips shift along the muscle of Eris’ thigh. A hot tongue strokes across his own, and saliva mixes swiftly after.

Azriel doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing when Eris pulls away, returning once to run his tongue over the curve of Azriel’s lower lip, a wet, silvery thread stretching between them.

Is Azriel delirious or is the creamy pale skin on his alpha’s cheeks slightly coloured?

Eris’ thumb swipes smoothly across the saliva-wet top of Azriel’s lower lip, applying a light pressure at the centre to reveal pale teeth. A tongue, guarded, behind them.

Azriel licks his lips, hazel eyes glazed as he leans forward, fingers that had somehow found their way into Eris’ hair clutching tighter. But Eris pulls away, “I thought you didn’t want me.”

“I hate you.” Azriel murmurs, softer than a breath. Eris arches a narrow brow, “you aren’t denying it this time.”

Heat warms Azriel’s cheeks but it’s hard to distinguish from the thrumming pulse of his heart, how hot his blood is as it courses through his body, rushing from his head.

“Once.” The word is less than a whisper, but Eris hears it clear as day. “Just this once.”

“Unique circumstances require unique solutions.”

“This doesn’t mean anything, Vanserra.”

“Of course not, omega.”

Azriel’s lip curls in a half snarl, but Eris is much faster, broad palms spanning over the jutting bone of the Shadowsinger’s hip, tugging him tight to the heirling’s front, mouth descending gluttonously to his mate’s exposed throat. A gasp that sounds far too close to pleasure escapes Azriel’s mouth, head tipping back as teeth nip along his shoulder, a hot tongue licking across his neck, incisors grazing a spot that has a shiver running up Azriel’s spine. He’s slipping. Can feel his discipline fraying at the edges.

Scarred palms press themselves flat to the jagged rock at his back, fingers curling as the hard ridge of nails drags across the stone in attempts to keep himself from unraveling entirely.

Eris shifts his body, and everything clicks into place.

Biological satisfaction satiates Azriel’s hunger, but drives him to consume more.

Roughened palms grip a pale-skinned jaw, dragging those lips back to his with an open mouth. Azriel’s skin burns, and he twines one of his legs around Eris’, tilting his hips so the seam of his leathers is rubbing against him, and—

A humiliating sound leaves his throat when Eris’ hips buck into his own. Broad, pale hands rise to squeeze firmly at Azriel’s waist, thumbs digging into muscle to hold him still. Amber eyes pierce into him, watching intently as Eris presses the edge of his hip carefully between Azriel’s legs. The Spymaster can feel the hot flush colouring his cheeks, the pleasure tingling in his lower abdomen…he knows this kind of sensation, what will follow too quickly after it…

Azriel’s head tips back, rock clanging pain through his skull but he doesn’t care as Eris’ hand slips between them, palming the Shadowsinger through his leathers. And it feels good. Azriel’s arms leave the safety of the rock wall, twining themselves immovably around Eris’ shoulders, the Spymaster’s spine arcing from the stone to feel the sturdy presence of his mate as the orgasm rushes through his blood, practically turning it to steam in his veins as pure pleasure takes his life-force’s place.

Hazel eyes manage to flicker open, met with creamy, pale skin, threads of fiery, silky hair settled at the nape of Eris’ neck, soft new hair curling from his skin. Azriel inhales, that rich, sweet and smoky scent cutting off circulation of thought—it’s too good to not taste.

Amber eyes slide shut, a heady groan rumbling in the heirling’s chest as Azriel opens his mouth over Eris’ throat, licking up the side and nipping with his teeth. Long, deft fingers outmanoeuvre the ties keeping leathers together, pushing them away. Eris can feel how hard his omega is, the dampness of the fabric concealing him still. The heirling drags the heel of his palm down the thick length of Azriel’s cock, already leaking again and desperate for stimulation.

“Hurry up.” Azriel pants, scarred fingers curling tight in fiery locks of hair, his hips tilting to rub against Eris’ palm, already needing a second relief. “What are you waiting—” Azriel cuts himself off with a gasp when Eris’ hand wraps itself around his cock, able to feel every finger, every knuckle… Nails dig into the heirling’s back as Eris lazily swipes his thumb over the tip, smearing precum that had nestled there.

The Shadowsinger snarls in frustration when Eris pulls his hand away, then bites down on the aggression as pale fingers rise to a rosey mouth, elegantly narrow. “Eris, what are you…”

Wild heat spreads through Azriel’s abdomen, pleasure and satisfaction twining together as the alpha’s tongue licks at the gleaming, creamy liquid. His cock twitches, hips pressing themselves flush to his mate’s, feeling slick beginning to drip down his thighs. In the past he’s found the sensation uncomfortable, invasive and suddenly sensitive, but now he’s in heat with his…with Eris, it doesn’t feel as awful as he remembers. Maybe even promising something good, this time around.

Azriel’s cheeks are stained with colour as Eris pushes an open-mouthed kiss to his lips, tongue flicking and stroking, sharing the flavour as movements lose their gentle curve, steadily roughening, sharpening at their edges to demands. “Don’t you taste good?” Eris murmurs between the hot, feverish kisses, cum mixing with saliva. Azriel struggles to register the thought, and instead his scarred hands are roughly tugging clothing free from his mate’s body, buttons flying as Azriel uses a bit too much strength, tearing the fabric in his haste.

“Impatient.” Eris murmurs, but it’s distinctly fond, lacking its authoritarian drawl. Azriel doesn’t care if he’s impatient—he’s in heat.

“Stop dragging it out,” Azriel pants, fingers trailing down the bare expanse of the alpha’s chest, marvelling at the sight. “You said you were here to help.”

“Shall I help you?”

Hazel eyes flick up to meet amber. If these chains weren’t here, they threaten.

Eris’ lips curve, as if he understands the unspoken demand to hurry up. “I think you look quite nice in them.”

Azriel’s cock twitches at the low drawl, heat fluttering through his lower abdomen, arousal shivering with pleasure. “Stop teasing. Do something.”

“Do something,” Eris muses, reaching to his trousers. Azriel’s tongue wets his lips. “Do something like…unchain you?”

Sure enough, that’s a set of keys twinkling before him.

Azriel lurches blindly at the promise of pleasure, but Eris steps back, heels clicking just out of reach. A thunderous snarl rips through the inner chamber, water droplets dislodged from stalactites far above.

Amber eyes glance over the keys idly, twirling the coil of metal holding them together around one long index finger. Rosey lips curve in a smirk that makes the Shadowsinger’s knees nearly buckle.

“Shall I free you, Azriel?”

#azriel x eris #azris #acotaromegaverse2024 #azris omegaverse #omega!azriel #alpha!eris #omega!azriel x alpha!eris #a night of convenience

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