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assriels · 5 months ago

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honeyed temptations

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: some smut and suggestive language (mdni 18+ only pls!!), swearing, azriel is whipped for u but is also very stubborn, domesticity/fluff

summary: despite azriel’s relative indifference to most things, he absolutely, undeniably hates the heat. and fucking loves when you wear sundresses.

a/n: continuation of my ongoing headcanon that azriel is actually kind of a stubborn baby, especially with his mate; i have a summer oneshot for cassian coming out soon! <3

masterlist

banners by @/cafekitsune <3

Azriel was fucking furious. It was like the sun had a personal vendetta against him, determined to steal any and all comfort from him as he baked in the hot morning sun in your shared bedroom.

Peak summer in Velaris was nothing to scoff at. Though the Night Court was hailed for the beauty of its moon and stars, the same could not be said for its seasons. It was a solar court and that meant that its moon waxed and waned through the full dearth of the seasons. And summer just so happened to be Azriel’s least favorite.

Though he could handle the strikingly cold winters the Night Court had to offer — it snowed quite heavily in Illyria, afterall — the heat of the summer was unbearably oppressive. It didn’t help that his current residence was the House of Wind, built high on a mountain cliff where the heat rose and was entirely too close to the sun. Not even the House’s breeze helped staunch his somewhat over exaggerated agitation at the rising temperatures.

It was still morning, but it seemed that the sun had decided that it would be especially insufferable today, showboating its prowess even at 9 in the morning.

“C’mon Az,” you implored, gentle hand poking his bare shoulder. “Rhys is here, we have a meeting.”

He pouted at you from where he was sprawled out on the bed, not having bothered to get up — or put clothes on — despite having been awake for an hour now. He rolled onto his side to get a better look at you, hoping that if he pouted enough you’d have mercy on him and let him stay naked and as cool as possible; the thought of putting on clothes — most of which he owned were black — made Azriel’s head ache.

“‘s too hot.”

You huffed a laugh at his childlike petulance. Who would have guessed the feared Shadowsinger of the Night Court couldn’t handle a little heat?

“You’re being a baby,” you chuckled, sitting on the edge of the bed as you attempted to negotiate with your mate to get out of bed.

It was then that he took stock of your appearance. You had always been much less bothered by the heat than he was — and much more functional in it — and so your morning routines were never disrupted. You had already bathed and gotten ready, pretty little sundress skimming your curves as the hem tickled the skin on your legs.

“You look nice,” Azriel noted with a hum of appreciation. Ordinarily, he would’ve reached over and pulled you on top of him to make both of you late for Rhys’s meeting for an entirely different reason, but he couldn’t fathom getting any more sticky and sweaty than he already was, so he resisted. Instead, he opted for toying with the hem of your dress in contemplation.

“Is this new?” He asked, taking in the sweet honey yellow linen and thin straps. You nodded your head and smoothed your hands down your front, fixing the neckline of your dress in a way that had Azriel’s eyes burning holes through your skin.

“Do you like it? I bought it when I went out with Feyre the other day.” You intentionally left out that you had bought it with the explicit purpose of using it to tempt your mate out of bed, knowing that he always needed a little bit of incentive in the summer.

Assessing hazel eyes tracked the familiar planes of your body, face lit with an entirely different kind of heat now, “Yeah, I like it.”

His gaze lifted to yours and you nearly gave into him. The adoration in his eyes and the blush high on the apples of his cheeks was mesmerizing, “You’re very pretty, you know.”

Azriel’s unfiltered affections for you always made your heart beat quicken, and your attention shifted to his hand resting comfortably on your thigh, thumb drawing innocent circles on your skin. You bent over to kiss him briefly in thanks before patting his hand and getting up off the bed.

You could’ve sworn you heard Azriel whine in protest, but it was drowned out by the sound of you sifting through the dresser, no doubt searching for clothes to throw his way.

He watched you from his spot on the bed, eyeing the way the hem of your dress billowed from your waist and just barely covered the curve of your ass. He was convinced that he could stare at you for an eternity and still find new parts of you to marvel at.

Before he could get too lost in his greedy appreciation of your beauty and the stunning way your dress complimented every curve and dip of your body, you were tossing clothes at his face.

“Stop staring and get dressed!” You laughed, “You know Cass is gonna give you shit for being late. Again.”

It was no secret to those closest to Azriel that he was an absolute terror when the summer rolled around. Though it only took a week or two for him to adjust and become begrudgingly functional again, the days leading up to his revival were always a source of great amusement to the Inner Circle. Ah, the perfect Shadowsinger finally reveals his flaws, Cassian would consistently tease.

He only groaned in response, rolling onto his back once again to stare at the ceiling.

You sighed. Truthfully, you found this side of him endearing – and quite funny – but you knew he had a job to do and nothing would get done unless he was, at the very least, clothed. Sauntering over to the bed, you looked down at him with your hands on your hips. You were met only with a stubborn look in return; you could’ve sworn you glimpsed the ghost of a defiant smirk curving his lips, “Make me.”

You reeled at his challenge. Fine, you would make him.

The bed shifted as you straddled him on all fours, careful not to let any part of you touch any part of him. His hands came up instinctively to grasp your hips as he didn’t even try to hide his triumphant smile. But you wouldn’t let him get away with it, at least not now.

You encircled his wrists in your hands, guiding them above his head to pin them to the pillow. Both of you knew he could easily wriggle out of your grasp, but Azriel was aware that this was riling you up just as much as him so he conceded. Allowed his beautiful mate to do whatever she pleased.

“Don’t touch,” you commanded in his ear, punctuating your words with a slow swirl of your tongue along the shell of his ear. “If you listen, I promise I’ll be so, so good for you.”

Unexpected emotion flooded his chest as he resisted the urge to break the tension with his affection for you. You were already so good for him. In more ways than he could have ever wanted, more ways than he ever imagined. But he kept his mouth shut, and focused only on the way he could feel the hem of your dress kissing his skin as your mouth nipped at sucked at all the places that drove him insane.

“C’mon, Az,” you cooed, licking a sinful path up his neck before you blew on his skin, reveling in the way goosebumps rose on his flesh despite the sweltering weather. “Get up for me, huh?”

He didn’t miss the double entendre as you tracked a scathing wet trail down his body, your tongue — frustratingly — the only part of you touching him. He was being difficult and you were making him pay for it by teasing him in ways only you knew how to. Azriel groaned low and deep when your cool breath hit right beneath his bellybutton, abs flexing as he willed himself to maintain his composure. You still weren’t touching him, and he was already embarrassingly hard, body desperate to feel your skin on his.

His brow furrowed with concentration and lust as he met your gaze right before your lips puckered and you took the head of his cock – pretty and swollen and throbbing just for you – into your mouth. Azriel’s head flopped back onto his pillow as he loosed a long, deep breath, a cross between a sigh and a moan so pleasing to hear that you nearly forgot your initial intentions.

One well placed stroke of your tongue had your eyes meeting his yet again, all dark pupils and a thin ring of gorgeous hazel. You were the picture of perfect seduction, pretty lips split open on his cock, bent over him in such a way that gave him an unobstructed view of your cleavage beneath your dress. You released him with a sinfully wet pop! as you pulled back and smiled at him, sweet and teasing before you blew gently on his tip. Azriel shuddered.

Oh, Mother above. He was milliseconds away from flipping you onto your back and tearing your godsforsaken dress right off you — or maybe he’d keep it on — but you were faster, jumping just out of his reach and off the bed, as if you hadn’t just addled his mind with fantasies of all the ways he could fuck you in that dress.

The wicked smirk of satisfaction curving your lips told him that you’d had your intended effect. Azriel was barely able to recalibrate his bearings in time for him to notice you heading towards the door. He sputtered in disbelief, “Where are you going?”

Before you traipsed out the bedroom door, you turned back to look at him, “To be continued, mate. After you get dressed.”

When you shut the door behind you, Azriel could have sworn he heard your giddy, maniacal laughter echo in time to the sound of your footsteps down the stairs. Now he had two problems: 1) he was still hot as the fires of Hell and 2) he was achingly hard and knew he’d have to make a concerted effort not to look too long at you in that dress all day if he wanted to cling to what little composure he had.

He sighed as his shadows swirled around his ears, barely offering any reprieve from the heat.

Pretty mate. So, so pretty. Everyone thinks so.

Make that three problems: 3) Cassian would be making innocent comments about you looking so good in that dress just to irritate him.

The possession roiling around in his gut – courtesy of the mating bond – was his final straw as he scrubbed a frustrated hand down his face. Fucking fine, he would put the damn clothes on.

☾𖤓 epilogue ☾𖤓

“Where’s that overgrown child you call a mate, anyway?” Cassian quipped after you made your appearance in the dining room for breakfast.

“Exactly where you think he is,” you laughed over a bite of toast.

“What’s wrong with Azriel?” Feyre implored innocently, “Is he not feeling well?”

Rhys chuckled and shook his head, “Azriel is not very fond of the summer—“

“That’s an understatement,” you and Cassian mumbled under your breaths in tandem.

“—and it’s a nightmare getting him to do anything in heat like this. But luckily we have Y/N.”

Before your High Lady could ask the question on the tip of her tongue, Cassian stole a piece of bacon off your plate, ignoring the way you protested, “I mean, you’ve seen how whipped he is Feyre. He’ll do anything if Y/N even suggests she wants him to. Az only gets out of bed in the summer because she asks.”

In retribution for your stolen bacon, you speared the rest of Cassian’s eggs and forked them into your mouth before he could inch away from you. You didn’t respond, knowing all too well that Azriel actually would not get out of bed even if you asked, leaving you to resort to other…tactics.

“I’m not a child, you know.” Came Azriel’s petulant interruption as he greeted you with a brief kiss to your head and the rest of his family with a grunt of acknowledgement, “I can do things on my own, in case you forgot.”

“We’ll stop calling you one, once you stop acting like it,” Cassian taunted.

Azriel’s scoff was his only response as he sat down next to you at the table, plating two pieces of bacon in front of you to replace the one he knew Cassian had no doubt probably taken. You smiled up at him gratefully, and despite the still sweltering heat that had only seemed to have gotten worse as time progressed, he smiled back.

Feyre was in awe; it was like the heat had melted away his stony exterior, leaving the real Azriel exposed for everyone to see. Feyre met your gaze across the table, a mischievous glint in her eyes that told you she was more than privy to the extraneous measures you had taken to coax your mate out of bed.

“How do you do it?” Cassian not-so-quietly whispered to you.

“I have my ways,” you responded cryptically with a smirk as Azriel’s hand ventured beneath the hem of your dress, squeezing your thigh.

You would most definitely be paying for your little shenanigan in the bedroom later.

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acourtofmishapandmistakes · 9 months ago

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Cassian: So... I've seen you've been spending a lot of time with Rhys recently.

Feyre: No, Cassian, it's not what it looks like. I swear.

Cassian: Oh really? So no reason for me to be jealous?

Feyre: No! You're the only one for me.

Cassian: Is that so?

Feyre: I promise. Rhysand and I are just bonded, okay? He's my mate.

Cassian: So there are no best-friend-feelings involved?

Feyre: You are still my one and only best friend! He's just the love of my life, nothing more!

Cassian: But I'm still the platonic love of your life, right?

Feyre: Of course!

Rhys:

Rhys: What the-

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daisyy345 · 8 months ago

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aah yes. my favorite hispanic and latina author Sarita Jota Martinez

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bindinglove · 19 days ago

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idgaf tamlin dragging lucien’s father out by his throat to go fight in the war is the sexiest thing any single character has ever done in acotar

#even eris was gagged #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #a court of mist and fury #sarah j maas #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of wings and ruin #tamlin #lucien vanserra #eris vanserra #beron vanserra

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soulofapatrick · 2 months ago

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Wingspan - Azriel x female reader

Summary: You decide Azriel's lap is where you'll sit which leads to something new

Warnings: Semi-smut; male orgasm

Words: 5K

Notes: I feel like im teasing you all with no real smut these last few ACOTAR stories hehe - you will get your smutty pt 2s I promise

Y/N's POV

As I step into the lounging area of the House of Wind, the warmth from the fire crackles softly in the background, but the room is full of quiet laughter and relaxed conversation. Every seat is taken.

Cassian is sprawled out on the couch nearest the hearth, his muscular frame looking far too large for the space, his arm slung lazily around Nesta. She’s sitting beside him, legs tucked beneath her, engrossed in a book but absently resting her hand on his thigh. Across from them, Feyre sits next to Rhysand, her head resting against his shoulder as they talk quietly, her soft laugh occasionally filling the room. Rhys lounges with that familiar ease, and the moment I step inside, his eyes meet mine. A brow quirks, and I know instantly that he’s about to summon another chair for me.

I shake my head, just the smallest movement, and his smirk widens knowingly.

Elain is seated next to Mor, both chatting lightly, and Amren is perched in an armchair with a drink in hand, glancing up from a book now and then, clearly uninterested in the chatter around her.

But my eyes find him. Azriel is sitting alone in a solitary armchair, slightly apart from the others, his long legs stretched out in front of him, one ankle crossed over the other. His shadows swirl faintly around his shoulders, and he holds a barely touched drink in his hand, eyes distant as if lost in thought.

Without a word, I make a beeline for him, my heart picking up speed as I approach. His hazel eyes lift when he senses me coming, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. His expression softens almost immediately, though, his gaze innocent, confused, as if he can’t quite believe I’m heading straight for him.

I don’t stop. I reach out, nudging his arm gently, and he instinctively shifts the glass from his lap, his breath catching in his throat as I slide smoothly onto it, settling into his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

For a moment, he’s utterly still, his body tense beneath mine. The faintest hint of a blush creeps across his cheeks, and I can feel the way his breath hitches slightly, like he’s trying to keep his composure. His free hand hovers awkwardly for a second, unsure where to rest, before it finally settles on my waist with a cautious, almost reverent touch.

Azriel says nothing, but his lips part as if to speak. I glance up at him, catching the quiet storm of emotions swirling in those beautiful hazel eyes—surprise, uncertainty, but beneath it all, a soft warmth that he tries to hide behind his usual stoicism.

His shadows dance lightly around us, curling closer as if they, too, are reacting to the shift in our proximity. The room around us seems to fade, the others’ conversations becoming distant as we sit there, close, his breath steadying but his chest still rising a little too fast. He’s not used to this kind of attention—not from me.

I reach for the glass in his hand, gently prying it from his grasp. His fingers linger on the cool surface for a moment before he releases it, watching me closely. Without breaking eye contact, I raise the drink to my lips, taking a slow sip. The liquid is smooth, warming as it slides down my throat, but what really heats me is the way Azriel’s eyes darken, honing in on the way my tongue darts across my bottom lip to catch the last drop.

His gaze is searing, intense, as if he's committing the moment to memory, and for a heartbeat, it’s just the two of us in the room. Then, as if by some unseen force—probably Rhys or Amren—the glass vanishes from my hand. I barely have time to process its disappearance before Azriel moves.

It’s instinctual, primal—the way his scarred hands slide up my waist, firm and possessive, pulling me closer. Before I can react, his face buries in the crook of my neck, and I feel the warmth of his breath as he inhales deeply. He’s holding me like he needs to, like being close to me is the only thing keeping him grounded. I can feel the faint tremor in his arms, the way he tries to keep his composure even though he’s giving in to some deeper urge.

I relax against him, sinking into his embrace, my body shifting slightly in his lap as I try to get more comfortable. The movement causes his grip to tighten, and a low, guttural sound escapes him—a growl, quiet but unmistakable, rumbling from deep within his chest. The sound sends a shiver racing down my spine.

That’s when I feel it—him. Stirring beneath me, hardening as I shift, and it’s my turn for my breath to catch in my throat. The weight of him beneath me is undeniable now, and suddenly, every inch of space between us feels electric. I can’t breathe, can’t move, trapped in the tension that pulses between us, my heart hammering against my chest.

Azriel's breath hitches as I shift slightly in his lap again, the movement sending a jolt of awareness through both of us. His grip on my waist tightens, almost as if he’s afraid I might slip away. His face remains buried in the crook of my neck, and I can feel the warm brush of his lips against my skin, his breath coming in uneven, shallow pulls. His scent—night-chilled wind and cedar—wraps around me, intoxicating and overwhelming, and I can't help but lean into him, the tension between us crackling in the air.

For a moment, all I can hear is the sound of his breathing and the steady thrum of my own heartbeat, loud in my ears. His hands, calloused and scarred from years of battle, hold me like I’m something fragile, but there’s a rawness to the way his fingers press into my skin, as though he’s fighting the urge to pull me even closer.

I shift again, just slightly, and this time, a soft moan escapes his lips, barely audible but filled with a need that sends heat pooling low in my belly. My own breath catches in my throat, a shiver coursing through me as I feel the hard length of him press more insistently against me. My heart races, and I know that he feels it too—the pounding rhythm of it against his chest, the rising heat between us.

Azriel finally lifts his head, and when his eyes meet mine, they’re darker than I’ve ever seen them, his usual calm shattered by the hunger simmering just beneath the surface. His gaze flickers to my lips for a brief second, and I see the way his jaw clenches, like he’s holding back from doing something he desperately wants to do.

I feel his grip loosen slightly, his thumbs brushing against the fabric of my shirt in small, absent circles, but his eyes never leave mine. The tension between us hums in the air, almost unbearable now, as if the world around us has disappeared, leaving only this moment. My body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve on high alert from his touch, his closeness.

I open my mouth, trying to find something to say, but before I can, his scarred hand moves, sliding from my waist to the back of my neck. His fingers tangle in my hair, gentle but possessive, as he tilts my head just slightly, his face so close to mine that I can feel the heat of his breath ghosting over my lips.

"Are you... okay?" His voice is low, hoarse, like he’s barely able to get the words out, his control hanging by a thread. There’s a vulnerability in his question, as if he’s afraid of what my answer might be.

I nod, swallowing hard, my body trembling against him. "Yes," I whisper, my voice breathy and uneven, and his grip on my neck tightens, just slightly.

The corners of his lips twitch, but it’s not quite a smile. More like he’s relieved, as if that simple word unlocked something within him. His gaze drops to my lips again, and this time, there’s no mistaking the hunger in his eyes.

Before I can even process it, his mouth is on mine—slow at first, tentative, like he’s still unsure if he’s allowed to have this. But then I kiss him back, and something inside him snaps. His hand tightens in my hair, pulling me closer, and his other arm wraps fully around my waist, holding me against him as his lips move hungrily against mine.

His kiss is fierce, consuming, like he’s been starving for this moment and can’t get enough. I melt into him, my hands finding the front of his shirt, clutching at the fabric as if it’s the only thing tethering me to reality. Every brush of his lips, every stroke of his tongue sends sparks of heat racing through me, and I can’t think—can’t focus on anything except the feel of him, the way he tastes, the way his body responds to every movement I make.

When we finally break apart, both of us are breathless, our foreheads resting together. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his eyes still dark with need, but there’s a softness there now, too, something tender that makes my heart ache.

His voice is barely a whisper when he speaks. "I've wanted this... for so long." His confession hangs in the air between us, raw and unguarded, and I can see the vulnerability in his eyes, the fear that maybe I don’t feel the same.

But I do. Gods, I do.

I press my lips to his again, softer this time, letting him know without words that I want this too—that I want him. His body relaxes beneath me, the tension melting from his shoulders as he kisses me back, slower now, more controlled, savouring the moment as if we have all the time in the world.

And in this moment, in Azriel’s arms, it feels like we do.

Our breaths mingle, warm and shallow, as we slowly pull away from the kiss. The world seems to stand still around us, every sound muffled by the rush of blood in my ears, by the feel of his hands still gripping me, like I’m the only thing keeping him anchored. I finally glance around the room, blinking as if waking from a dream, and that’s when I realise we’re alone.

The others—Cassian, Nesta, Feyre, Rhys, Mor, Amren, and Elain—they’re gone. At some point, they must have quietly slipped away, leaving us here in the lounging area, tangled together on the chair like some kind of forgotten secret. My face flushes with sudden awareness, the intimacy of the moment crashing over me now that we’re truly, utterly alone.

Azriel must sense it—the sudden flush creeping up my neck, the way my body stiffens just slightly. His eyes narrow, a flicker of concern passing through them, but before I can even speak, the world around me shifts.

It happens so fast—one moment I’m sitting on his lap, surrounded by the warmth of the fire, and the next I’m engulfed in darkness. Not just darkness, though—his shadows. They wrap around me, soft, velvety, and thick, their weight comforting and familiar as they pull me under. I barely have time to register the sensation of falling before I land, gently, on something soft beneath me.

I blink up, my breath catching as I realise I’m on my back, lying on the plush surface of a bed. The shadows swirl around me before retreating, leaving nothing but the low glow of candlelight to illuminate the room. My heart pounds in my chest as I take in my surroundings—the large bed beneath me, the soft sheets crumpled around my legs, the faint scent of night-blooming flowers hanging in the air. And then, I see him.

Azriel is hovering above me, his body blocking out most of the dim light, his wings half unfurled like a dark halo around him. His hands are braced on either side of my head, caging me in, and his face is only inches from mine. The shadows still dance around his shoulders, swirling lazily, but his gaze… his gaze is locked on me, and it’s intense, burning with something that makes my breath catch all over again.

He’s staring at me like I’m something precious, something he can’t quite believe he’s allowed to have. His lips part as if to speak, but he hesitates, his eyes flicking over my face as if he’s memorising every detail. His presence is overwhelming—warm and solid and intoxicating, and I can’t help the way my body reacts to him, my skin buzzing with the nearness of him.

Azriel’s wings flutter slightly as he hovers above me, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts, eyes locked onto mine with a fire that seems barely contained. The room around us is dim, the only light spilling in from the moon outside the windows, casting long, gentle shadows that seem to dance across his features. His wings frame him, dark and powerful, the membranous folds trembling with barely concealed tension.

I feel it too, the overwhelming tension that hangs between us—thick, electric, like a storm about to break. My pulse races, the heat between us coiling tight in my chest, and I can’t help but take in the sight of him. His muscles are taut beneath his shirt, his shoulders broad and wings extended just enough that I can see them twitching, the sensitivity of that velvety skin so evident even from where I lay beneath him.

His eyes are locked on me, dark and molten, and the connection between us, the bond we share, hums with the weight of his desire, of his need. I feel his emotions as if they’re my own—raw, unfiltered hunger. It’s like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing there’s no way back, and part of me is already tumbling over it.

The bond pulses with an intoxicating mixture of want and restraint. I sense his struggle to hold back, to keep himself in check, even though the thread of control is so thin it feels like it could snap at any moment. His shadows swirl restlessly around us, as if they, too, are caught up in this moment, drawn to the fire igniting between us.

“Azriel…” I whisper, my voice barely audible in the quiet of the room, but the sound seems to break whatever thread of control he was holding onto.

His gaze softens, and without a word, his head dips, his lips brushing against my throat, feather-light but sending sparks racing through my veins. His breath is warm against my skin as he inhales deeply, as if he’s savouring the moment, the feel of me beneath him.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” His voice is a low, gravelly whisper against my neck, filled with equal parts wonder and restraint. His hands, those scarred, powerful hands, slip down to my waist again, pulling me closer to him as he presses his body flush against mine, his weight grounding me.

I shiver beneath him, the flush on my face deepening as I feel him everywhere—his solid chest pressed against mine, his hips brushing against my legs, his scent surrounding me, wrapping me in warmth and desire. My pulse races, and I know he can feel it, can hear it with those sharp senses of his.

I open my mouth to respond, but the words die in my throat as he lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine again, dark and full of that smouldering intensity that makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world. His thumb brushes against my hip, a simple touch, but it sends a wave of heat coursing through me.

Azriel's lips curl into the faintest of smiles, and then, as if unable to hold back any longer, he leans down, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that’s slower this time, more deliberate. It’s not rushed or desperate like before, but deep, exploring, savouring. His mouth moves against mine, teasing, tasting, and I can’t help but arch into him, the heat between us growing more intense with every passing second.

The soft sheets crumple beneath me as I reach up, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as I kiss him back with everything I have. He responds with a low, guttural sound in the back of his throat, the sound vibrating against my lips, and it sends another shiver down my spine.

His body shifts above me, his weight pressing me deeper into the mattress, and I feel the hardness of him, unmistakable now, as he presses against me. My breath hitches, and I can’t stop the way my hips move, instinctively arching up toward him, seeking more of that delicious contact.

Azriel breaks the kiss with a sharp intake of breath, his eyes hooded and dark as he pulls back just enough to look at me. His expression is raw, full of want and need, but there’s something else there, too—something vulnerable, as if he’s asking for permission.

"Tell me to stop if you want me to," he murmurs, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper, but I can hear the restraint, the effort it takes for him to hold back.

I meet his gaze, my heart pounding, and slowly, deliberately, I shake my head. “Don’t stop.”

That’s all it takes.

The moment the words leave my lips, Azriel’s entire demeanour shifts. The restraint he’s been holding onto starts to unravel, his gaze darkening to a molten amber that sends a shiver through me. His hands tighten on my waist as though he’s been waiting for this—waiting for permission to lose control.

And then, his mouth crashes back onto mine, but this time the kiss is deeper, hungrier, as if he’s been starved for this. His tongue teases mine, coaxing and tasting, and my body responds with an intensity that surprises even me. I can’t help but arch into him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as I pull him closer, needing more of him, more of his touch.

Azriel groans softly, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against me. His hand slides down to my thigh, his strong fingers digging into the soft skin as he hitches my leg over his hip. The movement presses our bodies together in a way that has me gasping, feeling every inch of him against me.

And gods, he feels good. So good it’s almost overwhelming.

He drags his lips from mine, trailing hot kisses down my jaw and to my neck. Each one is deliberate, like he’s savouring the taste of me, and I tilt my head, giving him more access. He doesn’t hesitate. His teeth graze the sensitive skin of my throat, and I gasp, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure racing through my veins. His wings shift slightly behind him, a subtle twitch as if even they are responding to the growing tension.

I slide my hands down his back, feeling the hard muscles beneath the fabric, and then lower, fingers brushing the edge of his wings. His reaction is immediate. A low, guttural sound rumbles from his chest, and his wings flare, just slightly, the movement causing him to press more firmly against me.

I do it again, trailing my fingers along the sensitive membrane, and Azriel gasps this time, his breath hitching. His wings are trembling under my touch, the connection between us growing more electric.

"Careful," he murmurs, his voice hoarse, strained. "They’re... sensitive."

I smirk, teasing him again with the softest brush of my fingertips along the arch of his wing, watching as his reaction mirrors the way he would if I touched him elsewhere—his body tensing, his grip tightening on my waist, his breath catching in his throat.

“Sensitive?” I murmur back, voice low, playful. “Good to know.”

Before I can do it again, Azriel’s patience seems to snap. In one swift motion, he pulls back, grabbing the hem of my shirt and yanking it over my head, discarding it without a second thought. His eyes rake over me, dark and full of hunger, and he lets out another growl, the sound making my pulse race.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, barely loud enough to hear. But I do, and it sends a flush of heat through me.

Without hesitation, his hands return to my body, but this time, he doesn’t stop. His mouth follows the path of his fingers, trailing hot kisses down my neck, across my collarbone, and lower still. His lips and hands explore every inch of me as if memorising me, worshiping me.

And all the while, his wings—those magnificent, powerful wings—shudder in time with his touch, as if they are just as desperate for contact, just as in need of attention.

My breath hitches as I lift a hand, letting my fingers gently trail over the scars that line his forearms, feeling the tension thrumming beneath his skin. His breath falters, and I can sense him tip just a little closer to losing himself, feel the wild, unconfined need rippling through the bond.

Without breaking eye contact, I let my hand drift higher, toward his wings.

His reaction is immediate. The moment my fingertips graze the soft, sensitive skin of his wing, a shudder runs through him. His wings flare slightly, trembling as though he’s fighting not to let them fully expand. I can feel his breath catch, the bond between us flaring with the intensity of his pleasure, the sensation so strong it nearly knocks the breath from my lungs.

I don’t stop, letting my fingers trail along the edge of his wing, marvelling at how the slightest touch sends shockwaves through his body. His wings twitch, and his control slips just a little further. His whole body is trembling now, the tension in him barely held together, and the bond surges with the primal, visceral pleasure he’s feeling.

"You’re playing with fire," he growls, his voice low and dangerous, but there’s a glint of amusement, a challenge hidden behind the heat.

Before I can respond, he’s kissing me again, harder this time, more possessive. His hands slide lower, fingers digging into my hips as he presses his body more firmly against mine, and I can feel every inch of him, hard and ready, against me.

The intensity between us builds, a slow, burning heat that’s all-consuming, and I can’t help the soft moan that escapes me, my body arching into his touch. A soft groan escapes him, low and guttural, as his hands grip my waist, holding me as if I’m the only thing anchoring him to reality. But when I press a little harder, tracing the ridges of his wing, something in him snaps.

He buries his face in the crook of my neck with a desperate, almost feral groan, his breath hot and ragged against my skin. I feel the sharp bite of his teeth grazing my neck, almost too hard, but the pain mingles with pleasure so intense it sends a shiver down my spine. His hands tighten around me, pulling me impossibly closer as his wings tremble violently beneath my touch.

Before I realise it, Azriel’s entire body convulses with the force of it, a full-body shudder that ripples through him as he comes undone, his breath heavy and laboured, his wings quivering beneath my hands as the overwhelming pleasure tips him over the edge. His face remains buried in my neck, his lips pressed hard against my skin, and I can feel the pulse of his heartbeat racing, hear the low, guttural groan that escapes him as his body tenses and then releases in wave after wave of pleasure. His hips jerk into mine and I can feel the way embarrassment tinges the thread of our bond to I just kiss the side of his forehead as he rides out his orgasm.

The bond between us flares white-hot, filled with the intensity of his release, and I can’t help but gasp, feeling every shudder, every tremor as if it’s my own. His wings continue to tremble beneath my touch, and I keep my fingers there, gently stroking the sensitive skin, letting him ride out the final waves of pleasure until his body slowly begins to relax.

Azriel’s breath is still hot against my neck, his body pressed so intimately against mine that I can feel every lingering tremor that still rocks through him. For a moment, neither of us moves, suspended in the quiet aftermath, with only the sound of his heavy breathing and the rapid beat of our hearts filling the room. But then, I feel it—the unmistakable tension of his body growing rigid again, the slow but deliberate shift of his hips against mine as the evidence of his renewed desire presses hard against my thigh.

Slowly, Azriel raises his head from where he’d buried it in my neck, his breathless groans now replaced with quiet, almost desperate pants. His hazel eyes lock onto mine, and they’re no longer merely molten—they’re molten chocolate, deep and swirling with so much raw need that it nearly knocks the breath from my lungs. His gaze is intense, but beneath the fire burning there, I see something else—something that makes my heart stutter in my chest.

He’s pleading.

“I need you,” he whispers, voice rough and low, his hands shaking as they grip my waist just a little tighter. His forehead rests against mine, eyes heavy-lidded but full of a barely contained hunger. His lips part as if he’s about to speak again, but it’s as though the words are too difficult to form. Instead, they tumble out, strained and needy, “Please…”

There’s no mistaking the fervent desire coursing through him. His body, his wings, even the bond between us pulses with it. He’s already hard, ready, and I can feel it—the urgency in every inch of him as his hips press forward, seeking any relief. But despite the wild hunger coursing through him, despite how his entire body shakes with need, he still waits. He still pauses. His fingers twitch slightly at my sides as if every fibre of his being is fighting for control, waiting for permission.

The gentleman in him, even in this frenzy, is waiting for me to say yes.

One word, a singular thought, chants in my head over and over again, echoing through the bond, through every breath I take as I look up at him. It’s a need that matches his, an all-consuming fire that burns hotter with every second that ticks by.

Mate.

I reach for his shirt without thinking, my hands trembling with the same need that’s consuming him. My fingers curl into the fabric, and I don’t even hesitate. I rip it in two with a force I didn’t know I had, the sound of tearing fabric filling the room as the shirt falls away from his body in tatters.

Azriel lets out a low, rough groan as the shirt is discarded, his wings flaring slightly, and his eyes darken even further—if that’s possible. His skin is flushed, the muscles of his chest and arms rippling under the soft moonlight, and I can’t help but run my hands across the broad expanse of his chest, feeling the way his breath stutters beneath my touch.

But we’re not done.

Azriel’s hands move down to his trousers, and with one smooth motion, he’s shucking them off, kicking them aside with an urgency that leaves my heart racing even faster. The sight of him, naked and unashamed, standing over me with every inch of him ready and willing, sends a fresh wave of desire crashing through me.

My own body burns, flushed with heat as I feel the bond between us pulsing with an overwhelming surge of need. He moves with precision, fingers deft but trembling as he does the same to me, discarding every layer between us until there’s nothing left, until I’m as bare to him as he is to me.

His eyes never leave mine, and there’s something almost reverent in the way he looks at me now, like he’s seeing me for the first time, or maybe like I’m the only thing that exists in this moment. His hands are gentle as they skim over my skin, but there’s a trembling edge to his touch, a tension that speaks of the frenzied desire threatening to overtake him.

And through the bond, I feel it too—the storm brewing inside both of us, the need to come together, to consummate what’s been simmering between us for so long.

Azriel’s wings twitch, his breathing erratic as he hovers above me, every muscle in his body taut with restraint. He lowers himself, his body pressing against mine, skin to skin, and I feel the weight of him, the heat of him. His breath ghosts over my lips, and his voice, husky and raw, whispers again, “Tell me… tell me what you want.”

I feel his body trembling, barely held together by the thread of control that’s slipping fast. His hands are on either side of me, but it’s his wings that twitch, sensitive and exposed, sending a shudder through him every time they brush against the sheets. His eyes plead with me, and I know that this moment is the tipping point. All I have to do is speak the word, give him the permission he’s so desperately seeking.

And the bond between us pulses, thundering in my chest, as that singular word echoes louder and louder in my mind.

Now.

ACOTAR Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

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randomgurl2326 · 26 days ago

Text

just some fluffy thoughts about husband!Azriel (maybe some nsfw🤭)

husband!Azriel who will always make sure that you and your family are safe, no matter the cost

husband!Azriel who after the war with Hybern pleaded with Rhys to have a couple months off to take care of you and your unborn child (Rhys has been pleading with him to take time off)

husband!Azriel who never lets you out of his sight, especially when carrying his child

husband!Azriel who acts like he can’t breathe when you aren’t around. That needs to hear your heartbeat at least once throughout the day

husband!Azriel who doesn’t let you lift a pinky when he’s with you. You’re his queen and there is no way you are doing anything “strenuous” (you were just trying to get the orange juice)

husband!Azriel who, at night, makes you feel as if you’re a goddess, like no other woman exists. Azriel makes you teeter the precipice of pleasure for so long that when he finally lets you release you see stars

husband!Azriel who definitely has a breeding kink. The night you told him you were pregnant with your babygirl he came in you six—or was it seven—times just to see you full

husband!Azriel who eats your pussy like you’re his last meal. His tongue, fucking you in and out leaving you breathless. He refuses to come up for air, even going as far as to tell you to kill him with your thighs so he could die in bliss. Whose chin drips with your sweet juices when all is said and done. Still begging for more

husband!Azriel whose cock is so big that he has to stretch you before you take him like a good girl

husband!Azriel who praises you like the goddess you are. Praising you for taking it like a good girl. Praising you for giving him the life he never thought he could have. Praising him for giving him you

husband!Azriel who only cums after you’ve cum at least twice

husband!Azriel who loves seeing your face scrunch up when you cum so hard around his pulsing cock

husband!Azriel who cums right after you and collapses into your chest

husband!Azriel who cleans you up and slides into bed right next to you, sliding you onto his chest

husband!Azriel who wraps his wings around you not just to comfort you, but to comfort himself reminding him that you are here and you are his

husband!Azriel who only falls asleep once you do, caressing your growing belly

…

wife!reader who smiles in her sleep knowing her husband will always be there to protect her

Part 2

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pit-and-the-pen · 5 months ago

Note

Hi hi hi - saw your requests are open and I just NEED needy Azriel, I mean I want this man to be so downright desperate, hands and knees type beat just to touch and feel reader. Give me all the begging and dare I say….subby Az?

I give you full creative control on if you wanna add plot or not! Love your writing!!!

I am not used to writing desperate men so I hope I did this justice.

warnings: Smut (+18), begging, slight orgasm denial (more prolonging), teasing, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), wing play, Azriel just being needy and horny. Mostly unedited (per usual),

WC: 2.5k

Azriel assumed that this is what dying felt like. Well not really. He had been close to death enough times to know that this was the exact opposite. It felt like he was burning. It was rare that they got sent on different missions, even rarer still for one to get sent out without the other. But this mission required no males to be present and that left Azriel far away from his mate. Selfishly, he missed you. You were just doing your job. Helping evacuate a temple of priestesses and taking them to safety. But he wanted you here, back beside him in his bed.

Every day still felt like the frenzy to him. More often than not the two of you are sneaking away to some corner or closet. He kept waiting for it to go away, for the day when his blood didn’t rage through him at the sight of you but the day never came. Not that he was complaining, you were the most beautiful female he had ever seen in his long life, and you were more than well aware of the effect that had on him.

So he suffered. Days turned into a week and he had to leave your house entirely. Even being able to smell you on the sheets was making every inch of him ache. It didn’t do any good. No amount of training with Cass or burying himself in work. Nothing. Feyre and Rhys assured him that it was no trouble for him to stay but Azriel noted the wide birth the couple gave him as the days stretched on. Even his shadows were affected, either disappearing completely or swirling around him like a tornado. Whispering in his ears questions of where you were, where the small shadow that lived around your wrist was and just exactly why it had been so long without you.

Azriel felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin and was about to lay into his brother for kissing Feyre in front of him when a shadow alerted him of someone entering your shared home. Not just anyone. You. He was out of the townhouse faster than he could blink, winnowing right to your front door. The front door that was still open, you just stepped through it. He stood still for a heartbeat. Only enough time for your smell to flood him. It was like a drop of rain after crawling through a desert. He took three long steps until he was able to wrap you in his arms. He felt all the tension leave his body at the felling.[A low rumble left his chest as he just held you tight against him, drinking in the feeling of your arms returning the embrace. Your hands were rubbing small circles into the middle of his back doing nothing to help the desire that was starting to burn through him. A small noise left your mouth as he scented his own arousal in the room, felt his body respond to the soft touches.

You tried to pull out of his hold, peering up at his face slightly but he refused to let his arms loosen. Only pulling you tighter against him. Your hands trailed their way up his back, being mindful of his wings, until your fingers were resting in the shorter hairs on the back of his head, scratching at the skin there. Another low rumble pushed out from his chest, closer to a purring noise.

“Sweetheart.” His voice was tight enough that you couldn’t help but look at his face now. He saw your lips part slightly as you took in his flushed face, knowing his pupils must have been blown wide at the crushing need that was racing through him. His shadows wrapped around the two of you, cocooning you in their warm darkness.

“Did you miss me that much?” Your hand was now trailing down over his shoulder, his collarbone, his chest and lower until your hand had just brushed the front of his pants.

The air whipped around both of you and you tried to adjust to the dim lights of your bedroom.

Azriels hands were all over you. Tugging at the layers of your clothing. The silk overdress you wore was pulled over your head and thrown onto the floor.

Azriel pulled on the strings of your corset, the stupid garment taunting him with every second it was still on your gorgeous skin. He pawed uselessly at the binding, all thumbs as you lightly giggled. He let his head rest on your shoulder. “Gods, please just get it off.” He mumbled against your soft skin. He felt your small nod and the flex of your shoulders as you went to unlace it yourself. Steadier fingers having it off in a matter of seconds. He pulled his head up and was greeted with you only in a thin under dress. That he could handle. Wasting no more time, he gripped the hem of the dress and pulled it over your head, throwing it into the same pile as your skirt. He whined,whined, at the sight of your bare skin. The slight swell of your breast, the fullness of your stomach that was so soft under his scarred hands, wide hips that were perfect for him to grab onto. He looked at you like every inch of you was carved by the mother herself.

He couldn’t stop himself as he sank onto his knees, like that golden thread was tied lower than normal. “Az..” You started, breath hitching as he slung your leg over his shoulder. He bit back a moan at the smell of your arousal. He wanted to drown in it. Glancing up at you, he could see your mind still far away.

“Please. Want to make my mate feel good.” He groaned into the plushness of your inner thigh. The vibrations of his voice sending a shiver through you. Your head had barely nodded your yes before he dove in between your legs. He let out a loud throaty moan at the first swipe of his tongue between your folds. His arm going to wrap around your waist to keep you upright. Your back arched into his touch, bucking your hip when he latched onto your clit. His name was flowing out of your mouth as your hands tangled into his hair. Azriel let out a high whimper that lit your whole body on fire. You pull again and are met with the same high sound from him, matched with him trusting his tongue in and out of you. Your legs threatened to give out underneath you as he slid a thick finger into you. Eyes squeezing closed and throwing your head back as he alternated between slow languid flicks of his tongue and fast driving thrust with his fingers. You were racing towards your orgasm, and let your mate know as much

“So close, Azzy” you moaned, legs trembling at trying to stay upright. His answering moan vibrating through you. Your toes curled against the floor, back arching pushing you closer to him and you were just about to tip over the edge when he pulled away, finger stilling inside you.

“Az, what?” You were panting, head still a little fuzzy with the orgasm that was ripped away from you. He just shook his head, tongue sweeping out to clean off his face. He pulled his fingers out of you, a move that had you whining at the loss of feeling. Azriel rose to his full height and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling your lips to his. You could taste yourself on his tongue and it only made you deepen the kiss. His hands snaked down to the back of your thighs and you didn’t hesitate to let him lift you up, ankles locking behind his back. You thought he would carry you to the bed across the room but you instead felt one of the walls press against your back.

“I missed you so much.” Azriel said into the sensitive skin of your neck before he sucked harshly on the skin. You rocked your hips against his, desperate for relief. Azriel pulled his head away from your neck to look you in the eyes. His pupils were so wide there was no sign of that comforting hazel.

“Show me how much you missed me then.” A slight smirk graced your face when you heard his sharp inhale. He pressed his hips into yours, meeting your small motion. He swore lightly under his breath, a hand instantly going to fumble with the ties of his pants. Your own hands reached down to help since your position didn’t give him a lot of leverage. The two of you had his pants pulled down just enough to free his throbbing cock. You felt the bead of precum as it pressed against your stomach. His forehead pressed against yours as you reached down to line him up with your aching hole. He pressed his hips forward and he stilled after an inch. His breathing was already heavy and his wings twitched behind him.

“Missed this too. Gods.” he pushed in until your thighs met, settling all the way in. Your head fell against the wall with a soft thud. “All I could think of was being inside you. How much I missed the way you feel around me, the way you taste.” His words were punctuated by long, slow pushes of his hips. You knew your nails were digging into his shoulders as every snap of his hips sent you up the wall.

“Az, harder.” You stuttered out. He was moving too slow and as amazing as he felt you needed his faster, harder. Needed him everywhere. He rested his head into the crook of your neck, shaking his head in a no.

“Want to take my time with you.”

“Az please.”

Another shake of his head and when you tried to press your heel into the small of his back, he wrapped a gentle hand around your ankle to stop the motion. At the contact you let your leg slide closer to the ground. Azriel looked up at your face, concern lined in his eyes. He pulls away from you and places a gentle hand under your chin. You don’t speak, just place a hand on the center of his chest and push lightly, he backs up until his legs are hitting the edge of the bed and you gently give him one last push so he’s laying on his back. You’re quick to climb onto his lap, sinking back onto him with a low moan.

“Darling. What-” His cheeks are stained red and his voice comes out far breathier than you normally hear from the spymaster. Your thighs meet his stomach and he attempts to grab at your hips.

“Oh no. You said you wanted to take your time, so we’ll take all the time I want.” You saw as you raised yourself off of him slightly and sank back down. He groans a broken version of your name. Hands once again going to grab your hips. You let out an exasperated sigh and take his wrists in your hand. You press them above your head. And he could push you away in a second if he really wanted to, overpower you in a heartbeat. But he lets you keep his wrists pinned to the mattress, shadows swirling around the tanned skin under your hands, helping you hold him down you realized. “Keep them right there, Az.” You whisper into his ear, lips ghosting over the shell. He shudders slightly but nods his head. You release your hands from around his wrist and go to trail a single finger along the hard outline of his wings. He throws his head back, eyes scrunched closed as you run your nail all along the outside. Soft and steady. You reach the end and repeat the motion on the other side.

“Gods. Please. Sweetheart. Move please.” He whines as your tongue licks along the same path of your finger. “Point made. Gods, just move.”

“I don’t think I will.” You breath against the sensitive membrane of his wings and you feel him throb inside of you. You pay it no mind, moving your hips at the perfect angle that your clit is rubbing against the hard planes of his stomach. A moan tumbles from your lips and he makes a small whimper. You feel his arms tense as he tries to tug against his shadows, but it seems that they took your warning more seriously that he did as they don’t let him budge. He bucks his hips, throwing all of his strength into the motion and you move on him. No amount of bracing could keep you fully seated. But you only give him that one thrust before you shift your attention back to his wings.

His breathing is short and huffed as you alternate between licking and trailing your fingers against his wings. You sit up enough to see his face, his eyes are shut tight, the muscle in his jaw ticking with how hard he’s clenching his teeth together.

Taking the opportunity, you give him a soft bite on his collarbone at the same time you lift your hips up. You move until he’s almost slipping out of you before you push back down. His wings flare out underneath him. His eyes open to look at you fully now.

“Please. You made your point. Gods please. Move.” He babbles, sounding winded. His hands are clutching the sheet above his head. You surge forward to capture his lips as you start to really move. His hands are instantly on your hips, guiding you up and down on his long length. And you let him. You could tell he was already close, riled up from you playing with his wings for so long.

“Wait. Sweetheart.” He whimpers out, trying to get you to slow down again. Trying to get you to cum before he does. But you only speed up your motions,

“But you’ve been so good for me, Az.”

“Want you.. This was supposed to be about you.” You ignore him again, closing your eyes and pushing your chest out at how good he feels. The way he fills every inch of you, the smooth glide of him against your walls. The only sounds are your moans and your skin meeting together. His hips meet yours perfectly with every thrust. Moans are tumbling out of his lips like sweet music. His hands squeeze your hips and hold you against him as he shudders underneath you. He comes with a roar and you moan loudly when you feel him empty inside of you. He keeps his grip tight as you ride him through it. You go to slide off of him but before you can you’re back is on the mattress, him hovering over you.

“I’m going to enjoy every second of this.” He says before he lowers his lips to yours and makes you cry his name over and over again.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar #acosf #acomaf #azriel x reader #acowar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel acotar #azriel x you #acotar azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger smut #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #a court of frost and starlight #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames

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thisblogisaboutabook · 10 months ago

Text

Rainy Season

Azriel x Reader

An angsty little one shot. Azriel’s mate is tired of being at the bottom of his list of priorities.

Update: Due to popular demand, this is being made into a series!

Part 2

The air’s getting heavy and we both know why

There was a time when an evening like this brought solace to my weary soul.

Azriel’s hand wrapped around my waist, caressing my stomach, pressing soft kisses to the juncture of my neck and shoulder. His hair tickling against my sensitive skin as we hid under blankets absorbing the incessant melody of drip, drop, drip, drop and the echoing pitter patter of rain drops hitting the roof. His warmth seeping right through to the coldest depths of my soul.

I’d turn around, pressing my bare breasts against his muscled chest. Our breath hitching as his sunburst eyes of brown, amber, and gold bore into mine, his soft lips whispering promises of forever.

Say that this storm is just passing through

But Azriel wasn’t here. He hadn’t been for 6 days, 23 hours, and 50 minutes now. It would have been laughable, comparing the past to now, if it weren’t so damned sad. In the beginning there’d been long, doting love notes with risqué quips regarding his intentions upon coming home, little gifts that he couldn’t resist bringing back from his travels, and the stolen hours where he’d sneak in a visit during the intermittent downtime on his missions. As a realist, I knew that it was not sustainable long-term but relished in it as the gift it was. Newly formed, passionate love that exceeded anything I had ever imagined upon finding my cauldron-blessed mate.

As the years went on I understood when the love notes became briefs and the thoughtful gifts became pecks on the cheek as he hurried through the door to exchange his leathers for clean ones, wipe down his weapons, and rest before his next mission. But time went on, as is inevitable, and distant were the memories of stolen moments away from missions, the desperate caress of his hands roaming my body as if he couldn’t quite believe I was fully corporeal before him - needing to touch me to reassure him that this was real. Now the touches were detached, perfunctory, another task on his never-ending to-do list.

Drop after drop we’re destroying this house and eachother.

The boiling point had been simmering for a while, left on the fire with reassurances of “Things are just busy right now”, “It’ll slow down soon”, “I would stay if I could, love. You know I would. I have no choice.”

But we both knew all too well that there was always a choice. There were times when Rhys let it slip that Azriel had volunteered for missions that his other spies were perfectly suited for, times when all I wanted in the world was to be curled up and listening to the rain with my mate.

Missions became tasks with the Valkyries, “chaperoning” Cassian and Nesta, and emotionally supporting the lovely doe-eyed fawn - Elain - who was the delicate cherry blossom of spring opposite of my wild summertime storm.

It wasn’t her fault. The trauma inflicted upon her, the loss of autonomy that came with being thrown into the cauldron and having her mortality stripped away without her say. The powers she never asked for overwhelming her senses. Hell, maybe it wasn’t Azriel’s fault for responding to the traumas of his past and the need to overcompensate for every ounce of blood he’s drawn by saving anything and everything that needed rescuing.

The problem lay with the fact that where Elain is a “seer”, my ability to “sense” when things are amiss was strong and Azriel’s intentions with her were becoming blurred. Feelings of lust had become more frequent down the bond along with flutters of joy and adoration. When it began I thought maybe things would look up in our relationship - he was missing me, fisting his cock to fantasies of taking me over and over when he returned home - but he only became more distant. He’d return more often than not smelling of jasmine and honey. The strength of the scent coating him correlating with the increase in enamored feelings slipping through the bond.

Six days ago when I’d asked him to skip out on training with Cassian and Nesta and whatever it was he and Elain would do - that was when the thunder clapped and the sky opened. “I can’t just stay home and cater to you all the time. I have duties to this court. Why can’t you find a hobby to occupy your time? Nesta reads and trains with the Valkyries, Feyre paints, Elain gardens and she evens bakes! Why can’t you be more like-“

He caught himself too late, immediately reaching out to place a gentle hand on my shoulder and apologize but it was too late for that.

Please, make it stop

It wasn’t that I wasn’t a forgiving or understanding person. i appreciated his dedication to his court and family and those in need but…

“Why can’t I be more like what? You can stop mid-sentence but you already said it all.” I looked down, shaking my head as silver lined my eyes. Gods, I hate that I’m an angry crier. “You want to know why I can’t be more like Elain in your eyes, Azriel? Because I exist in your fucking blind spot! I have been helping Feyre AT the studio, volunteering at a food pantry in Velaris, and teaching self-defense classes to women and children at the park but you wouldn’t know because you never ask me what I’ve been up to while you’re gone.”

He started to speak but I wasn’t finished. “The reason I cannot be more like Elain, or Feyre, or Nesta is because I’m none of them. I am ME. And you know what? I like me. I don’t want to be anybody else.” Trying and failing miserably to hold my head high I pathetically fell to my knees, shuddering as tears of rage flowed freely.

Warmth enveloped me as Azriel knelt down to soothe my quaking form. I let him if only because I didn’t have the composure to tell him otherwise as he began pressing kisses to my forehead. “I’m so sorry. I have been a terrible mate. I love all that you are- I- I’ll stop with Elain. She’s doing much better and Nuala and Cerridwen can keep an eye on her, so can Rhys and Cassian, and her sisters. It will be okay.”

That consolation attempt only drove the blade of bitterness deeper into my heart. Elain had so many in her corner and who did I have anymore? My chronically absent mate? The family I left behind to move to Velaris with Azriel? There was nobody close by.

“I think you should leave.” I sobbed out.

Azriel ignored the shaky command, continuing to hold me. Fuck - is this what it took for him to notice me? Breaking my heart so he could stitch it back up again?

“Azriel.” I stated firmly.

He met my eyes.

“You should leave.”

His look grew puzzled. “I thought you wanted me to stay - to spend time together? Please, Y/N. Let me make this better.”

“I need space. Give me one week.”

“But-“

“One. Week.”

Azriel’s shoulders slumped, head hanging low for several minutes before realizing that my decision was firm.

“I love you.” He said before heading out the door.

——————

Like clockwork as 7 days, 0 hours, and 1 minute were up, the front door to our home opened and Azriel’s footsteps padded in behind me, my gaze remaining fixated on the rain falling outside the window. A lump formed in my throat as I avoided turning to meet his gaze.

So dance one more dance and tell one more lie.

Azriel stepped around me, wordlessly extending a hand, patiently waiting as I avoided his gaze a moment longer before taking it. His shadows began humming faintly, increasing their melody and reaching a crescendo as Azriel began dancing with me through the room.

Say that you love me even if it’s not true

I let myself melt into the warmth of his chest. The thick air remained heavy upon my soul but I could have this. I could let myself enjoy this moment.

We wordlessly danced through the room in the soft glow of the fae lights.

We made our way through the hall into our shared bed that had become so neglected.

“I love you, Y/N.” he murmured as he laid me down, stripped bare underneath him.

“I love you too, Azriel.”

——————

Wish I could just say it and words were enough to keep you from being the one giving up.

The middle of the night left me restless as he lay soundly asleep beside me. My senses tugged me toward his bag that he’d discarded at the entryway. I brought out his dirty clothes from the week only to be greeted with the fresh scent of jasmine and honey.

Like the sky letting go for no reason

I packed my essentials and voyaged out into the pouring rain. Its patter on my skin washing away the salty tears streaming down my face. Following my senses to where the love was true back to my Summer Court home, my family. As free as a summer storm.

It's just the rainy season.

—————————————

A/n - I know there are plenty of Azriel x Reader and Elain fics out there. It was rainy and dreary here yesterday and this song was in my head for the first time in like 10 years so…. I wrote this.

#sarah j maas #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x elain #elain archeron #rainy season #inspired by Hunter Hayes #inspired by a song #azriel angst #angst #azriel one shot #acotar oneshot

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scorpioriesling · 4 months ago

Text

Caught in 4k H.C.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Reader x Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Lucien, Eris, and Tamlin

Warnings: mdni, 18+, smut, masterbation, mentions of multiple kinks if you squint

Summary: A collection of head cannons where you catch the ACOTAR boys fantasizing / jerking it :) Just for funsies and I hope you like, lol. I also included photos for each! <3

SR’s Note: Honestly I saw this new photo / fan art of Lucien andddd I had to do something with it. The ween was staring at me… I was quite literally caught in 4k. SO, here we are, here’s an idea, I rolled with it. Enjoy, all you freaks (;

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Rhysand

Would absolutely be jerking off at his desk, in his office. Doors locked, he thinks no one is home.

He would start slow of course, then speed it up, thinking about you — how you looked before you’d left for downtown Velaris this morning, your hair up in that cute ponytail that showed off your pretty face.

Last time he had you at his desk your hair had been in a ponytail. His fist made for a rather sturdy hair tie.

“Ohhh,” he let out a small sigh, thinking of how your body looked as he pounded into you relentlessly from behind, your round little ass reverberating with every snap of his upper thighs against it. He squeezed his cock harder, thinking about the sounds that came with those thrusts-

“Fuck, baby,” he whispered, his head rolling back as he relaxed back in his chair, pumping his cock faster and faster, the image of your naked body pushing him toward his impending release. The way the desk would creak as his dick reached unimaginable depths inside you, sliding in and out so fucking fast; your body fit perfectly with his.

“Rhys! I’m back!” Your honey-filled, sing-songy voice rang out from the downstairs foyer just before he could release, and he immediately halted his movements. How long had he been doing this? He glanced at the clock — surely you hadn’t been gone that long.

The soft patter of footsteps rang out on the stairs, and he stuffed his still-hard dick back into his formal pants, struggling to tug the zipper up and attempt to conceal his erection. You’d surely notice, and he’d surely be embarrassed.

The door to the office swung open, and sure enough, you stood — bags in hand, ponytail and all. The bright smile on your face faltered when Rhys’ failed attempt at a warm greeting was recognized.

“What’s wrong, sweet heart?” You asked, setting down the paper bags and striding over to his desk. No no no, he thought. You needed to get out of here, at least until he could calm down.

“Nothing, my love.” He smiled, embracing you as you moved to sit on his lap. You shifted slightly, looking at all the papers atop his desk.

“You’ve got a lot of work it seems,” you say. He sighs lightly. “Yes my love,” he responds, kissing your cheek. The feel of you against him stiffens his cock, and he can only pray you don’t notice.

“Mhm,” you hum, shifting on him once more. Rhys’ breath comes out ragged, and you side-eye him with a smirk. “Almost the same amount as when I left earlier,” you point out. A small tinge of pink flushes his cheeks and you chuckle, kissing the tip of his nose before gazing tensely into his eyes.

“What were you doing up here all alone, anyways?” He meets your eye with an equally challenging stare. “Working.” He says coolly. You smile humorlessly, moving to straddle him instead. Instinctively, his hands cup your ass, squeezing hard. He knew what you were doing, but you didn’t care. It worked, and that’s all that mattered.

“I have something… else… you could work on, if you’d like?”

Cassian

He’d trained with you enough by now that he’d gotten used to your… attire. The way your tight leathers clung to your body, every dip and curve of you outlined for everyone to see.

He didn’t care so much now that you’d been together so long, but something about you striding in that morning stirred something in him.

You were laughing in that vivacious way you did, usually with Gwyn and Emerie and Nesta — a lot of times, when he was lucky, with him too.

He smiled at the sound of your voice, floating down the stairwell toward the training ring. His back was to you; but when he turned and caught the sight of you, your legs bare and midriff exposed, his breath faltered a bit.

Sure, he’d seen you completely nude before, but in front of your peers? Your friends? Especially during training… he wasn’t sure how he would handle two hours of this kind of torture. He could already feel the blood rushing to his cock at the sight.

“Y/N this isn’t- You know for training you can’t-“ he fumbled. Gwyn giggled, and you rolled your eyes.

“Cassie, it’s like a hundred degrees in here today. You said we weren’t doing hand to hand anyway; what’s the harm in lighter clothing?” You shrugged. He only stared blankly at you, commanding his eyes not to drift past your collarbone.

His hand jerking his cock later that day was the harm in lighter clothing.

He let out soft breaths, leaned back as he sat on the edge of his bed.

He thought about how that tiny little tank top was stretched thin across your generous chest, how his eyes traced over the outline of your bra when you did your warm ups. Gods… how many times he’d ripped thin little things like those off of you, how many times he’d toyed with you, undoing your lacy bras you’d wear just for him…

He kept pumping, thinking about how your tits bounced when he purposefully assigned the group jumping jacks and high knees exercises, and how painful his cock grew during your session.

He thought back to the times he drilled into you on this very bed, your knuckles white on the headboard as he shoved his cock deep inside of you, your screams of pleasure only encouraging him further.

It was borderline torturous today during cool down yoga, watching you in downward dog, your spine arched, your long legs on display. Under your shorts, he could only imagine the panties you had on — maybe his favorite, the glittery kind he could easily slide down your legs with his teeth.

Usually, this was before he would lick your cunt until you shook beneath him, your slick covering his lips and chin.

Had no one else attended training this morning, he honestly would’ve taken you right there; yanked your mini shorts over that perky little ass and drove himself straight inside of you. “You want to tease me? You know what happens when you play around,” he knows you love it when he spanks you-

“Cassie?”

He stilled, his chest heaving as he opened his eyes. Lo and behold, you were before him again. You hadn’t yet changed out of your training attire, and as your eyes trailed over his form on the bed, taking in what he was doing — you closed the door behind you.

“Baby, I-“ he stammers, and you only smirk at him.

“I suppose the new outfit this morning worked, hm?”

Azriel

It was hard, so painfully hard having a mate as beautiful as Azriel. So hard having a mate so beautiful, but was gone so often on missions that you found yourself at times taking care of your needs on your own.

You couldn’t blame him for it, you were quite lucky. But little did you know, he would need to take care of his own twice as much.

On this occasion, it was a case of… well, miscommunication. He was scheduled to be gone on a mission, and you’d told him you would stay the night with Morrigan instead of being alone in your shared home for the evening.

Of course, that was not what happened.

Azriel finished his mission early. He reported to Rhys, flew back home, and was happy to have a night off with rest and relaxation. He even lit candles in the house, for christ sakes.

He knew you were at Mor’s, and though he missed you so much, he didn’t want to take away from girls night. He’d walked in on one once and… well… let’s just say he’d never do it again.

Azriel was padding around the flat, finishing the last few sips of black coffee from his mug when he passed the sapphire door. His steps faltered, only for a moment, and he tipped his mug back to drain it, still eyeing the opened door.

Curiousity, and years of spy work must have gotten the best of him. He sat his mug on the hallway table, pushing against the usually locked door. This room was off limits to everyone, that was, except you and Azriel.

His breath caught in his throat as he made his way through the room, sitting in the plush chair near the center of it.

“Oh…. my…” he breathed. He leaned forward, his gaze flickering between the various vibrators scattering the ground. He stared, feeling unable to move — that was, other than his dick, which began to twitch beneath his leathers.

He continued to gaze, cataloguing which items weren’t in their holding places. Other than the vibrators, there were clamps missing, and maybe-

His cock fucking throbbed. He sat back in the chair, yanking on the ties and binds to free himself from his pants. Finally, finally getting his dick in his hands, he allowed his mind to wander further.

When were you in here alone? It had to be within the last few days, it didn’t look like this before he left. He slid his scarred fingers over his long shaft, thinking of you in this room, the things you’d done together in here. What you’d likely done alone.

“Mmmm,” he grunted, holding himself tighter. He thought of your tight cunt, how he had to work his thick cock into you every. Single. Time. “Fuck,” he muttered. You always looked so beautiful, a gorgeous, ruined mess for him, all tied up on the bed. Gods, the sounds you’d make, how they’d echo off the walls, through the entire house-

“Fuck baby, so tight for me,” he groaned. He usually wasn’t so vocal, preferring to hear you much more instead, but alone… he wished he could talk your ear off. Tell you to play with yourself, right in front of him so he could watch.

Gods, if he were here, watching you cry out against your vibrator thinking about him… there’s no way he would be able to hold back.

“Good girl, good fucking girl, take it, take all of it-“ he sucks in a breath, his gaze snagging on a pair of lacy underwear discarded by the bed. He quickly snatches them up, remembering how they looked last time you’d had them on.

The soft sound of the front door opening and closing pulls Azriel from his haze, immediately tossing the underwear back under the bed. He shoves his dick inside his leathers, groaning as his pants protest against his size. You weren’t even supposed to be back tonight — maybe the plans with Mor fell through.

Within minutes, he’s closing the door as quietly as he can, sure you won’t suspect a thing. He smiles lightly to himself. Hopefully, if you’re home to stay, you’ll be in the mood to finish what he’d already started.

He’s almost halfway down the hallway, heading for the foyer when a cough sounds from behind him — the other end of the hallway. He turns slowly, and sure enough; his eyes meet yours. Only for a moment though; he can’t help but notice the sheer nightie you’ve managed to slip into, breasts pushed up from your hands clasped behind your back.

“Having fun in there by yourself?” You tease, jerking your chin toward the sapphire door across the hall. Azriel doesn’t move a muscle, his thoughts racing.

“H-how did you know I was in there?” He asks, his tone low. You only giggle, taking a few steps toward him and revealing your hands at once. One held his mug, which he hadn’t noticed wasn’t on the hallway table anymore.

“Seems we’ve both forgotten to put our things away, hmm?” You wink. “I’ve lived with the Spymaster long enough to pick up on a few things, Azzie.”

Lucien

With Lucien, things were always *almost* a little more than “friendly”. Sure, you’d been best friends for centuries now, but over time, you’d both begun to realize there was more to it than just being friends.

“It’s truly not that complicated,” Tamlin explained. “She likes you, you’re clearly in love with her — I don’t see where the problem lies?” But, Lucien still only sighed.

“We’ve been friends so long, I just don’t want anything ruined,” he’d explained. That only made his High Lord friend laugh.

“I think it was ruined, my friend, the moment you let your feelings cloud your judgement. Which was a very, very long time ago.”

Honestly, he wasn’t wrong. In your youth, you and Lucien were simply platonic; you’d grown up together, bonded over the horrors you’d both endured and helped each other through, and found comfort in relying on one another.

But over time, that changed. Suddenly, attending Balls and Galas with Lucien sent flutters through your stomach. Going to dinners with him on quiet evenings warmed your heart, and now when he brought you flowers for your table — it felt new, it felt… more.

“Well, aren’t you the loveliest couple Prythian has to offer!”

This would happen often.

One of you, or both, would hastily explain that you’re just best friends. Well, you used to, anyway. Last time the older woman in the market made a comment as such, Lucien just smiled politely and held your hand tighter, continuing on as though nothing happened.

The moment that had tipped it all though… oh boy. You’d been in the kitchen of the manor, baking apple tartlets as autumn was approaching and they were Lucien’s favorite from back home. He had joined you, wanting to learn from someone with such a talent and, honestly he just wanted to spend time with you.

“Okay, next we need flour… Lucie, that’s you,” you whispered the last part, and Lucien snapped out of his daze. His hand dropped from his chin, propping his head up on the counter as he gazed at you from across it.

“Hm? Oh, I’m sorry,” he stood, searching for and grabbing the bag of flour from behind him. You smiled, taking it from him and measuring out a few cup fulls. He resumed his position, looking to you once more.

You met his gaze, your hand stopping midway between the bowl and bag. “Lucien, I thought you wanted to help me,” you said.

“Right, right, I do,” he moved toward you, pushing up the sleeves of his tan waffle-knit sweater as you dumped in another cup. Your breath caught as his hands appeared on either side of you, the sudden feeling of his toned body pressing against your backside lightly ceasing the air from your lungs. You tried to remind yourself to resume your breathing as normal — the steady rise and fall of your shoulders measured now by his chin resting atop your left one.

“Next… we, have two eggs,” you explained. You take them from the carton, and Lucien chuckles behind you, his body so close you can feel every movement and muscle beneath his clothing.

“Allow me,” he says smoothly, his arms caging you in closer along your sides as his hands rest atop yours. “I think I know how to at least do this part.”

You allow yourself a laugh, but it comes out breathless. He does as such, cracking them into the bowl and setting down the shells.

“Alright, now next is… hey!” You squeal, turning to face him in shock. He laughs, his smile radiant as you look down your nose at the dash of flour smeared on it. You reach for the bag, but you’re too slow — Lucien has both of your wrists held tight in an instant, pinning you to the counter with his hips against yours. Your noses are mere inches apart, and he continues grinning.

“Lucien, this isn’t-“ He doesn’t let you get another word in before he smushes his lips against yours, and you instinctively soften against him. Years, you’d waited years for this — the feel of him against you, his lips touching yours. All of those almosts, all the lingering touches, all of the sleepovers and hugs that went on too long, all those times your hand held his.

Now that he’d had you once, he only wanted more.

Which was why he sat in his favorite spring meadow now, trying to clear his head.

He couldn’t.

He only thought of you.

You, in all your beauty. The way your hair would always fall perfectly around your face. How you felt, your soft lips pressed against his. How your body, he was so careful to protect, felt pressed against him that day. He hated how hard his cock was just thinking of your ass pressed against him.

When he’d caught you off guard and finally kissed you… Gods, you’d look so lovely laid across the counter, wrists held above your head in his grip. He’d worship you and kiss every inch of you if you’d let him. Tartlets be damned; he’s sure you’d taste even better.

He was smiling to himself in the afternoon light when the most beautiful voice made itself heard before him.

“I can only wonder what you’re dreaming about to have such…” You playfully tease, your sentence trailing off. His eyes fly open, and he sits upright, looking at you and trying to find some kind of response.

“No! No, I uh, was just drifting off, just lounging here, against this uh…” he pats the fallen tree trunk behind him.

“…wood?” You finish. He shakes his head slowly, a smile creeping onto his lips. You giggle, dropping to your knees before him and adjusting your skirt around you. You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and he blushed.

“Well, tell me what you were thinking, then? Maybe I’ve thought of things similar.”

Eris

It was a beautiful morning — perfect for the horseback ride Eris had planned with you that day. He knew you had a few duties to tend to into the evening, and he wanted to squeeze in a little alone time beforehand if he could. You were more than happy to oblige.

“I’m not sure I’ve seen the leaves this red so soon in the season before,” you pointed out, looking around the autumn grove in wonder. Eris looked too, his focus landing on you once more like it had countless times already that morning. He knew, of course his mate was gorgeous, but… you were truly getting the best of him today.

“Maybe the season is getting longer,” he said absentmindedly, watching how your hips moved forward and back as your horse trotted along. Fuck, if you didn’t have obligations clogging your schedule later today, he’d have you off that horse and sitting on him instead. Gods what he’d give to feel that tight, pulsing cunt throbbing on his awaiting dick-

“Ooh! Eris look! Those are honeycrisp!” You said excitedly. “We have to get some, your mother has been looking everywhere for these.” Eris mentally kicked himself for being such a … guy. He was so happy just to spend time with you right now, and of course his mind was going to sex when his absolute gift of a mate was innocently noticing the apples dangling from the trees, thinking of others while his mind was only thinking of you.

Then again, he only ever seemed to think of you.

“Anything for you, dear.” You flashed him a smile then, and his spirits lifted higher. He led his mare toward the trees, sliding off and tying the reigns as you slowly approached behind him. You were shorter than him, and though you had enough courage for the entire Autumn court, you didn’t mind a gentle helping hand every once in a while. You handed your mate your own reigns, watching as he tied them to a branch as you also made to de-saddle.

His strong hands slid around your waist, firmly placed on either side as he hoisted you from the animal with ease and set you gently on the ground in front of him. You grinned up at him then, your hands still on his shoulders as a sudden rush went through you. You couldn’t help but remember the excitement you’d felt all those years ago when he was but a simple schoolgirl crush to you; that feeling remaining even now that you’re mated to the Autumn heir.

“I love you,” he said then, his one hand cupping your cheek and pulling you in for a kiss. You leaned into him, his hands roaming over your body as you felt his pants tighten slightly against your stomach. You chuckled, breaking for air before he got too many ideas.

“Apples?” You suggested. He nodded, swallowing thickly, but you could see the lust swelling in his irises. Once all your tasks were done today, you were sure you’d be seeing more of this side of him later tonight. “Apples,” he agreed.

The Lady of Autumn was more than thrilled with the discoveries you and Eris had come back with, her gratitude for the both of you evident before she bid the both of you goodbye. Watching you go, even for a few hours felt like torture for Eris. He shook his head, cursing the dirty thoughts racing through his mind — but they wouldn’t stop.

They surely didn’t stop as he sat before the fireplace at sunset, lazily sipping the last remnants of whisky from his glass as he scanned over the court’s weekly newsletter. The words were a blur; he was just passing the time and waiting for you to come home. Waiting to get his hands on you again.

Gods, your lips had tasted so good this morning, so warm against the cool air of the grove. Fuck, that little waist… when he’d had you the other night, bent over on the bed, fucking himself into you relentlessly, his hands gripping your smooth skin-

He wasn’t sure when he set down his glass, or when his paper hit the floor, but his fingers were now gliding over his cock, throbbing with need. His head rolled back, short breaths coming out between his parted lips.

The way your body moved this morning… he let out a soft groan. He thought of you, sitting on his lap, the fire casting a golden glow around you, bouncing up and down on his length. You didnt need any other fire — you emitted light yourself, everything you did, everywhere you went. You were the sun itself.

“Y/N…” he sucked in a breath, yanking on his cock. He thought about the tiny lingerie you’d wear for him, how he could pull it down over your tits and take one of your nipples between his teeth as you rode him harder…

His groans were cut short as a soft, familiar mouth met his, and he slowed his strokes but smiled into the kiss in realization. You pulled back an inch, a few tendrils of your hair tickling his neck and shoulders as you leaned over the couch above him, taking the scene in fully.

“Did you miss me?”

Tamlin

The sharp knock at the door startled him, his gaze drifting from the reports on his desk to the entrance of his study.

“It’s nearly ten thirty, Sir,” Alis peeked her head in. “I’m going to turn in for the night, unless there was anything else you needed.” Tamlin’s eyes widened in realization, and he looked at the wall clock for confirmation. Sure enough, 10:27 p.m. He sighed heavily.

“No, no, I’m quite alright Alis. Tell me, has Y/N turned in already?” He asked. His heart clenched as he tugged on the bond with no response. He’d told you he would be done with these reports hours ago, but, per usual to no avail. He hated disappointing you.

“I haven’t seen her since nine, Sir.” Alis said. He only nodded, and she closed the door quietly. Tamlin rubbed his eyes, shuffling his files into neat stacks and flicking off his table side lamp before heading toward the master bedroom.

Upon entering, his heart dropped even more. Of course you’d gone to bed, why wait up? He’d done this before. Promised to be done with work only to stay awake for hours into the night, not giving you the attention you’d deserved from him.

You. His mate.

His mate that, upon further inspection, must have believed he would finish on time tonight. You’d fallen asleep in a petal-laden lingerie set, barely leaving anything to the imagination. Tamlin’s lips pressed into a thin line — it was one of his favorites. Now he really felt bad.

Not only did he feel bad… he felt horny.

He stepped as quickly and quietly as he could across the hall toward the master bathroom, closing the door and leaning against the sink.

His chest heaved, and he stared at himself in the mirror, his cock growing harder and harder in his pants. He needed a shower, now.

He flipped the water on, allowing the steam to cloud in the bathroom before he cracked open the door to the hallway, just an inch so some of the hot air could filter out. The moonlight illuminated the space enough through the window — he avoided turning on the lights.

It was only after he’d stripped and gotten into the warm water that he’d started fisting his cock.

Images of you played in his mind, some recent, some from the past. The first time you’d made love in the garden — you had daisy petals all through your hair, your back bridging as it arched in pleasure while he ate you out. Gods, you tasted so sweet — sweeter than any honey Tamlin had ever tasted, in his court or beyond it.

His free hand braced against the cool tile of the shower wall, his other running along his thick length faster.

The images burned into his brain of you laid out on his desk — one he’d been spending so much time at lately with his stupid papers — your mouth open, crying out his name as he worked your clit with his fingers.

Your hands felt so good tangled in his hair… he’d missed that so much, he knew it was his own damn fault for not giving you enough of really anything lately.

“Gods Y/N,” he gritted out, his teeth clenched. The warm water ran over the defined muscles of his back, a reminder, but not quite as exact as the feeling of your fingers on him during those nights of the frenzy. That’s when you’d gotten that adorable, flowery little number anyway that you were wearing now — were you asking to be fucked like that, again?

He groaned at the thought, biting his lip in anticipation. The way you’d looked, so peaceful and delicate, your hair laid prettily on your pillow — but he knew.

Every once in a while, you wanted him crazy. You didn’t want nice, gentle, garden love-making. You wanted mating-bond, frenzy-crazed, sex. The kind that had you once drenching the sheets with your cum, squirting from you as your mate pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you. The kind that had you shaking as you sat on his face, his nose nudging your clit as his tongue played in your folds.

“FUCK,” Tamlin swore, pumping his dick so hard, feeling his release building, imagining your tongue on him instead, your awaiting mouth and beautiful, round eyes gazing up at him from the floor…

“Looking for somewhere to, finish?” You asked, stepping lightly into the shower behind him. Tamlin stilled, his face flushing at being caught in the act.

“I… sweetheart I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, I-“

“You didn’t,” You interjected, crossing your arms beneath your breasts. Tamlin’s cock jerked, his eyes roaming hungrily over your naked body. The cute outfit was something, yes, but your body, just you — now that was something he’d prefer over anything.

“…but I wish you would have.” You raised an eye brow at him.

His eyes darkened at your words and he chuckled, looking to the floor and shaking his head slowly.

“Y/N, I don’t think I’ll be able to last very long-“

“Try me,” you challenged, stepping forward as his gaze met yours. “We haven’t yet done it in the shower.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

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bxlladxnnabxtch · 5 months ago

Text

Desertion & Destruction

Rhysand x Reader

❀🇲🇦🇸🇹🇪🇷🇱🇮🇸🇹❀

Summary: Rhysand discovering you had left didn't go as gracefully as anyone expected.

Read Pt. 1 of Desertion & Destruction - HERE

Read Pt. 5 - HERE

Warnings: Blood, Yelling, Violence, Angst.

By the time Rhys had realized you’d left the Night Court, you were already over the border.

And Feyre stood, stunned and faintly terrified over the chaos that ensued.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN SHES GONE?” Rhys was livid, indescribably so. His instincts were clawing at him, screaming at him to go after you. He could barely think through the chorus in his head yelling at him that you had left, you were gone. The logical, High Lord thinking part of himself said that he couldn’t do anything, couldn’t go after you. You were over the border, out of his court, and with tensions as high as they already were, he couldn’t risk walking into another court. They would take it as an unspoken declaration of war, especially considering he sent no correspondence beforehand- and that he was so close to Amarantha Under the Mountain. He was stuck.

A cornered animal is almost as dangerous as a wounded one.

Unfortunately for Azriel, Rhys was both.

“She left yesterday and headed straight for the border.” Azriel spoke matter-of-factly, as if he was giving a mundane report to his High Lord about observations he had made while out on a mission. He didn’t owe anything to Rhys, not after the way he had treated you. Right now, he was his brother, first and foremost, High Lord status be damned.

“And you helped her?” Rhys asked incredulously, a scowl upturning his features that had Azriel’s feet spreading, back straightening. Cassian tensed from beside them, noting the warrior stance Azriel had casually slipped into. He became mildly concerned about where this conversation was headed, and if the streets outside the townhouse would survive Azriel and Rhys duking it out in the middle of the entryway.

“What would you rather have me do? Leave her to rot like you did?” Azriel hissed through his teeth, shadows stirring from their dormancy. Rhys bristled, a flash of unrestrained power flared through his violet irises, lighting them up and making them shine with an iridescent hue. The ground rumbled beneath them, the movement causing Cassian to tense, shooting a concerned look at Azriel.

“Easy.” He warned, the tension becoming thicker with each passing second. He could tell Rhys was getting too riled up, his rage combined with his instincts roaring at him to go after you and his power that was no doubt bucking against its restraints, this could turn deadly real fast- too fast. Morrigan stepped in front of Feyre the slightest bit, watching the conversation pan out. Despite how heated it was getting, she seemed content to let them sort it out amongst themselves, although that didn’t stop her from urging Feyre to get behind her should things go south.

Azriel’s siphons blazed a bright sapphire.

He continued, “Turn my affections on to another fae?” He asked, waving his hand toward Feyre in a gesture that told the group he didn’t care much for her. Rhys’ figure grew taunt, like a spring that was wrung tight, ready to launch at a moment’s notice “Plaster posters around when she slips your leash?”

Cassian barely had time to blink before Rhys had Azriel up against the wall. The house shook from the impact, pictures falling off the wall and smashing on the ground as a yelp sounded from behind Cassian. Whether it was from Feyre or Morrigan, he didn’t know- didn’t turn around to find out. Rhys seethed, his forearm against the shadowsingers throat as he bared his teeth. “Don’t talk about my mate.”

Azriel wondered at what point his loyalty had turned over to you. Him and his brothers had grown up together. They had fought countless battles- killed thousands, and saved each other more times than they could count. But still, staring at Rhys as he was pinned to the wall, his High Lords arm digging into his neck as he felt a tremor shake the house under his barely restrained power- he knew he’d gone wrong somewhere.

Cassian jumped in, tearing Rhys off of Azriel as the High Lord struggled to push through him. Azriel ignored Cassian’s attempt to break it up, despite the shout of warning Cassian had shot at him. Azriel stepped forward, inches away from Rhys’ face as he snarled “You abandoned her just like you did Under the Mountain.”

Rhys had plowed through Cassian and was on Azriel in a second. Cassian barely had time to react as he stumbled back, attempting to regain his balance. Mor immediately turned around, ushering a panic-stricken Feyre up the stairs of the townhouse as Rhys and his spymaster threw each other to the ground.

The first punch landed directly in the center of Azriel’s face, making him recoil slightly before sending Rhys into a side table in the entrance to the foyer. Only a grunt left him, barely an acknowledgement of the wood that had slammed into his side before they lurched at each other again.

They scuffled on the ground for a moment, Rhys crawling on top of Azriel as the spymaster attempted to shift his weight, aiming to flip him over. His attempts ultimately failed as he was slugged again, his head being sent careening, cracking against the hardwood floors. He felt it collide, the blinding pain that shot through his head and down his spine, throbbing in his temples. He grit his teeth, his siphons fluttering, the light flickering until it came to a head.

A blast of blue light collided into Rhys, sending him into the wall behind him. A crack formed in the drywall as he hit, the sound audible in the once chaotic room that now sat still. A groan sounded from Rhys as he slumped down the wall, the pain no doubt incapacitating him for the time being.

Before one of them could regain their bearings and go at it again, his shadows swarmed him in a frenzy. It was almost as if they were panicked, the way they zipped around him. He felt the warm blood leak from his nose as he heard the first whisper. A murmur, almost like a graze as it spoke, mutterings of your journey, a fall, a broken wing.

Fuck.

Azriel hadn’t even given half a thought to the mating bond before he and Rhys went at it- of how it would affect you. Though before he could scramble to his feet and rush to you, a voice sounded from behind him.

“Cauldron boil me, what happened in here?”

His head rang, and a jolt of pain zapped through him as he looked up to find Amren staring directly at him, Mor at her side as she looked between him and Rhys. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to will away the headache that began to set in from the blow to the head. “Words were exchanged.” Azriel gritted out, ignoring Cassian as he arched a brow in slight amusement. Mor let out a whistle as she surveyed the foyer, the broken table, dented floorboards, and the pictures that lay shattered on the floor.

“No shit, I was wondering which ones had you willing to blow the entirety of Velaris apart.” Amren said, not sounding too enthused at the state of the room. She sent a pointed looked to the crack in the wall, the drywall caving in slightly and exposing the stunts underneath. Azriel rubbed his temples as he sat up on his knees, one hand coming to brace himself on the hardwood. “The ones that told Rhys he’s been a shit mate.” Azriel quipped, a layer of frustration edging his tone as he couldn’t stop the headache from raging on. “Ah.” Amren tutted, dark hair swaying with her steps as she walked up to the High Lord. “Get up.”

Rhys blinked blearily, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as Amren’s eyes shone with a flicker of that foreign power. It had appeared Rhys had his fill of fighting for the day, and rose to his feet without complaint, only a muffled groan of pain leaving him as he heaved himself up the wall.

Amren snapped her fingers toward Mor, nodding her head towards Rhys as she helped him steady himself. Mor seemed to understand as she let out an annoyed sigh, making her way over to the two as Rhys braced himself on the wall. Mor clicked her tongue as she gave Rhys a once over, but spared the ladder any further comments as she grabbed hold of him and Amren. The trio disappeared in a plume of black smoke, leaving Cassian and Azriel in the decimated foyer.

Cassian let out a snort, his steps avoiding the dents along the scuffed floor as Azriel grimaced weakly. Cassian held out a hand in expectation, waiting a beat before Azriel took it and he hauled him up. Azriel stumbled, tripping over his own footing as he struggled to keep upright. Cassian tsked. “Last time you had a concussion was 120 years ago.” Azriel shot him a glare, flinching when he felt another jolt of pain throb through his temples. He ignored Cassian’s comment, instead gesturing to the vacant space where Rhys once stood. “Where’d they go?”

“The House.” Cassian said, watching Azriel as he made his way towards the townhouse steps. “Figured you two needed a little time apart.” Azriel huffed a laugh as he sat down onto the steps rather ungracefully. A small grin tugged at Cassian’s lips as he watched his brother fumble. “And I take it Amren’s appearance was also your idea?” Azriel asked rhetorically.

Azriel never intended for this to get out of hand. A would’ve been quiet conversation had turned into a shitshow, and he didn’t know whether to feel bad or justified that the family seemed to have been picking sides. “It’s not my fault she’s the only one who can seem to get you two off of each other.” Cassian chuckled at his own joke, the laugh ringing out through the silent house. Cassian knew Feyre was upstairs and had probably heard everything that had gone down, but part of him was glad she wasn’t there to see the brunt of it. A hell of a first impression she got.

Cassian’s smirk fell at Azriel’s lack of response. He noted the way he stared at the ground, watching the blood from his nose drip and splatter on the floorboards, staining the wood. “You care for her don’t you.” Azriel seemed to snap out of his reverie at the mention of you, his eyes glancing off to the side as he huffed incredulously. “I care about all of you.”

Cassian pursed his lips, surveying the bloodied spymaster. He sighed, looking down at the ground as he shook his head knowingly. “You know that’s not what I meant.” His tone had gone soft, Azriel gritted his teeth. He didn’t bother to respond to the remark, instead slumping against his hand that had come to cradle his head.

Cassian laid a hand on his shoulder, giving him a pat of goodwill. “Keep me updated.” He said gently, before strolling past him and up the stairs.

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