#acotar/acomaf/acowar

[assriels]

lessons in touch

pairing: azriel x f!reader

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

word count: 5.8k :0

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

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

masterlist

banners by @/cafekitsune <3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was something wrong?

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

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

“Penny for your thoughts, brother?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nesta.

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

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

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

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

Check her nightstand…best kept secrets…

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

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

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

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

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

Azriel felt the back of his neck heat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

Cassian, that fucking mouthy bastard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[lovelyfawnxx]

baby wake up, new Rhysand art just dropped

🎨 by ignartcio

[acourtofquietdreamers]

Azriel Appreciation Week: Belonging

Rhys said to Azriel, "If I had not met a shadowsinger, I would not have known that it is the family you make, not the one you are born into, that matters. I would not have known what it is to truly hope, even when the world tells you to despair.” -ACOWAR Chapter 69

For this piece, we really wanted to capture a young Azriel finally finding a place where he belongs. A mother figure to love him as her own, brothers who tease him lovingly not cruelly, a family he chose for himself, and a place to call home. One of the sweetest parts of this piece is the quiet joy and tenderness in Azriel's expression as he looks on his found family.

We can not thank aurithemoon enough for bringing this piece to life for us. She captured everything that we were envisioning in a way only she can. It is such a pleasure and honor to work with someone so talented, so accomplished, and so kind 💙

🦇 Art by aurithemoon on instagram

🦇 Commissioned by @emilyondemand @elainsvisions @theseersgarden and myself

🦇 Characters belong to Sarah J. Maas

Find it on Instagram here!

Please do not repost without permission. Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

@azrielappreciationweek

[brielyasmin]

And suddenly, it's my favorite Acotar Appreciation Week of the year again!

I just wanted to paint a very soft and peaceful moment between Elain and Lucien as a couple ♡ Hope you guys like it as much as I do!

For #ElucienWeek2024 - Day I "Fated"

Characters belong to Sarah J. Maas

find my art.

[azrielsrealmate]

alcohol and pancakes

azriel x reader

summary: azriel was always devoted to you, but when drunk? He was clingy, touchy and devoted. And he wanted to take care of you even if his mind was spinning.

warnings: mentions of alcohol?

word count: 1.3k

this is a silly little thing because I’ve just read somewhere that Azriel gets clingy when drunk and oh my god that’s sooo cute 😭

Your touch on his cheek was like a soothing balm for a wound that throbbed and stung, with each languid and incredibly soft stroke easing the pain more and more. He let go, leaning into your touch.

Why did he always have to be the tough and unbreakable guy? He wasn’t that tough, nor unbreakable, he was just... himself. And your gentle caresses made him want to whimper. His honeyed eyes closed with a hum of satisfaction, and you laughed softly. Why was even your laugh soft? Azriel didn’t understand. Azriel didn’t want to understand.

“How much have you had to drink?” you asked, arching both eyebrows in pure tenderness.

It took Azriel several seconds to process the question, in reality, he had drunk quite a bit. But that didn’t diminish any of the things he wanted to do with you, which at the moment was nothing more than resting his face between your generous breasts. He nuzzled your palm, breathing in and pressing a soft kiss.

“Not too much.”

Liar. Lies. A shadow whispered in his ear, and Azriel nearly growled, brushing it aside and nuzzling your hand further.

“Ah, I see,” you murmured, entertained by the sight—a warrior nearly two meters tall, and a spy no less, clinging to you like a needy child craving affection. Your voice was drenched in amusement, dripping over him just enough to make him open his eyes slightly.

“I’m not that drunk.” He almost whined, his eyebrows furrowing, and you had to stifle another giggle. Not wanting to offend the oh-so-scary shadowsinger that was hovering over your body, laid across your marriage bed.

“I’m not that drunk,” Azriel repeated, this time with a firmer, almost defiant tone, though it wasn’t as firm or defiant as he intended, because you could see the tremor at the corner of his lip, trying not to smile like a fool upon seeing your own smile. He reminded you more of Nyx trying to convince you that he wasn’t sleepy at bedtime just to spend more time with you, than of the five-hundred-year-old spy that he was.

His eyes, usually as inscrutable as the night sky, were now clouded by a mixture of alcohol and a tenderness he rarely allowed himself to show—a vulnerability that made you stroke his cheek once more.

“Azriel…” you whispered with a gentleness that only softened the normally sharp edges of his face further. You could see the freckles scattered across his nose, small and nearly invisible, like tiny constellations marking his skin. And the slight green ring in the center of his eyes, and a few strands of hair longer than the others.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of you,” he said, burying his face in the crook of your neck, this time sounding more resolute, acceptably more resolute, as he breathed in your scent like it was a balm he desperately needed. The way his body, so big and strong, curled up against yours was a delightful paradox you couldn’t help but enjoy. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders to pull him closer. You felt the weight of his head on your shoulder, the brush of his dark hair against your cheek. “I can take care of you... always.”

A soft laugh, impossible to contain, escaped your lips. The irony of his words filled your chest with a playful warmth. “Really?” you teased, your hands caressing his back with the same slow indulgence of someone petting a spoiled kitten. Carefully avoiding his wings, so as not to turn clingy-drunk Azriel into horny-clingy-drunk Azriel. “Then, if you’re so capable, why don’t you go down to the kitchen and make me some dinner?” You were pretty sure he would wobble if he got up.

Azriel lifted his head, his eyes gleaming with a determined light that almost made you regret your words. He could make you dinner—no, he should make it for you. You were his mate, and he had lost count of how many nights he had come home dazed with exhaustion only to find a warm dinner and loving arms.

Before you could react, he got up from the bed with the agility of a feline, the weight of his determination palpable in the air, your thoughts incredibly wrong; he didn’t wobble even once.

“Azriel, no—” you began, reaching for his arm as he headed toward the door. “It was a joke, I’ve already eaten, please don’t try to make me dinner when you’re in this state…”

He didn’t listen, or decided not to, moving through the room with that lethal grace so natural to him. You were forced to follow him as he made his way down the hallway and then down the stairs to the kitchen.

When you reached the kitchen, you made sure to turn on the lights because Azriel hadn’t bothered, given that he was already opening the cabinets, inspecting their contents with an intensity that almost made you worry.

“I’ll make you pancakes,” he announced, and you laughed, so much that your cheeks turned red.

“Pancakes?” you approached him, placing a hand on his arm in an attempt to stop him. “Az, that’s not dinner.”

“It will be,” he said, determined, and his stubbornness brought another smile to your face. There was no stopping him now, so you resigned yourself to helping him.

He continued to inspect the cabinet contents, searching for something that he didn’t even have in mind. You couldn’t help but let out a giggle—he was so determined that he didn’t even seem lost.

“How about you start by getting the flour?” Azriel’s eyes lit up as if he finally remembered something. He grabbed the bag of flour. Then he looked back at the other contents in the cabinet, and you wanted to laugh again.

“The eggs and then the milk.” As he pulled out the ingredients with hands that were skilled but slightly shaky, you stayed close. He observed everything he had taken out, all placed on the counter, and then directed those hazel, clouded eyes at you, tentatively, in a silent question.

“That’s all we need.”

“Ah… I knew that.” He said as if trying to convince you of something.

“Of course you did, I wouldn’t doubt that my clever shadowsinger knew.” You were teasing him, but he didn’t even notice. Though you did notice the red that brushed his cheeks.

You handed him the bowl and the ingredients, watching with amusement as he measured and poured, his brow furrowed in concentration. His hands, which usually wielded weapons with deadly skill, now worked with adorable clumsiness to mix the ingredients. As he stirred, fearing that Azriel might spill too much of the mixture out of the bowl, you moved closer to help him, your hands gently falling over his, trying to guide him. Azriel froze for a second, and you knew almost instinctively that he was looking at the scars covering his hands, so different from the softness of yours. You offered him a warm smile, quickly making him forget about it.

The warmth of the kitchen was comforting, but not as much as the warmth radiating from his body next to yours. That warrior who could bring down armies was now focused on making pancake batter with the same seriousness he would approach any crucial task. And though pancakes weren’t a conventional dinner, you knew that the dedication he was putting into them made them more special than any banquet.

“Is this good?” he murmured, turning his face toward you, and for a moment, his honeyed eyes met yours.

“Perfect,” you replied softly, allowing yourself a small moment of respite in his closeness, enjoying the tenderness hidden behind that façade of hardness.

Azriel nodded, satisfied, before turning toward the pan that was already starting to heat. And as he poured the mixture, you couldn’t help but admire him, so determined and so devoted. All for you. All yours.

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Feyre: Where are the boys?

Mor: Oh, you didn't know?

[animezinglife]

I'm sorry, but I'm still not over how hot Lucien was in those scenes where Feyre was using him to make Tamlin jealous. The situation is wrong, selfish, and sick on her part, but the sides of him it brought out?

The sides it finally allowed us to see?

Him lifting her off that horse with those big, strong hands?

Taking her hand and kneeling?

Catching fish with his bare hands and doing all the unpleasant work for Feyre (because my man's a capable, competent, considerate provider through and through)?

That "nightmare" scene where he's holding her and her nightgown's kind of riding up while he rubs her back and holds the back of her head? This is him with a platonic friend. 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

SJM really went off with him.

I have nothing but respect for SJM and her decision to make him scorchingly sexy from the start for no real reason. This woman really sat down, had no intention of making him her [current] main character's love interest, and said, "I'm going to have him making all of Prythian crave sin, make him one of if not the smartest character, and have him respectfully manhandle her on occasion to save her and lock this in. Let readers' imaginations run wild."

Then, she just decides to casually throw us another line about the fire in his blood.

"I couldn't imagine Elain being subject to all that...fire."

Bitch, I can. And good for her.

[theladyofbloodshed]

ACOTAR TIMELINES

Click for enlarged images. We know events occurred between the war and UtM like Cassian trapping Lanthys or seeing Bryaxis, but no information on dates. As you can see from the third picture, the bulk of ACOWAR occurs over a single month.

[inkedinshadows]

A Helping Hand

Pairing: Azriel × reader

A/N: so here it is, my first Azriel fic! I'm so excited to share this and I hope you all enjoy it too.

Summary: The bond snapped for Azriel the moment he saw her, thrown into the Cauldron with Elain and Nesta. Now, he wants to help her as she struggles to cope with what happened.

Warnings: angst, ptsd, mention of pain and drowning

Word count: 3.6k

Part 1 of 3

֍֍֍֍֍

It had been one week since Y/N was kidnapped and thrown into the Cauldron. One week since Azriel had found his mate. Even bloodied, with an arrow in his chest, only barely conscious, he’d taken one heavy-lidded look at her and just known.

He’d awoken three days later, still a bit weak but finally able to stand up, to walk. To go see her.

For four days now, Azriel had brought a tray of food to her room, asked her if she needed anything, and told her not to hesitate to tell someone if she did. Sometimes she would shake her head or answer in a whisper with a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’. Sometimes she would just look at him, though it was as if she couldn’t really see him. But most often, she would keep staring at the wall or out the window, not showing any sign that she even realized he’d walked in.

Azriel knew she was struggling. Mor and Rhys had gotten even less of a reaction out of her. Cassian was still healing. Elain and Nesta were trying to adapt as well, each in their own way, and though Y/N was their sister’s friend, neither of the girls had asked to see her. Nor her them, for that matter. So Azriel had taken it upon himself to check on her a couple of times every day.

He knocked gently on her door, waiting for an answer that didn’t come. But she wasn’t sleeping, his shadows confirmed that. Despite his initial protest, a few tendrils had slipped away from his control and now lingered in the darker corners of her room. He’d thought it a violation of her privacy, but she was his mate and she was struggling, and a part of him was glad that his shadows would keep an eye on her. Were eager to, was more like it. So he’d let them.

Azriel pushed the door open and was not surprised to find Y/N sitting in front of the window. It was either that or she’d be curled up on her bed. This time, though, her gaze slid toward him as he took a step inside, and when their eyes met for even just a second, his heart raced in his chest.

“Hello, Azriel,” she said quietly, and her soft voice pronouncing his name for the first time was almost enough to bring him to his knees.

“Hi,” he replied, clearing his throat before taking a few steps forward. He stood a few feet from her, afraid he might startle her. She’d spoken to him, had been the first one to do so, and he considered it progress. He wouldn’t ruin it. “I just wanted to check on you.”

His eyes took her in, and he felt the urge, the need, to reach out to her, to take her in his arms and hold her. She’d turned toward the window again, but he could still see the dark circles under her eyes and her haunted expression. Her posture was rigid, her skin pale, her hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in days. And as he scanned the room, he noticed the tray of food he’d brought her that morning. Untouched.

“You didn’t eat anything,” he added gently, and he had to bite his tongue before he could add ‘again’. She would rarely take one or two bites of food, and it was starting to show. But Azriel knew he couldn’t force her to eat and he was still trying to find a way to convince her.

A few heartbeats passed before Y/N answered, still not looking at him. “I’m not hungry.”

Azriel shoved down his rising frustration. That was not what she needed. But seeing his mate suffer like this, unable to eat, to sleep, and not knowing what to do to help her was driving him crazy.

He debated leaving her alone and maybe go talk to Rhys, asking him whether he knew if there was something else Azriel could do, some kind of help only a mate could provide. That would entail revealing Y/N was his mate, but if it was the only way… besides, his family had probably already understood it. Rhys and Amren, at least.

Azriel looked at her one last time, but she was still staring outside. She’d fallen into her trance once more. He opened his mouth to bid her goodbye, but that’s when he realized it.

Her nightgown. It was the same one she was wearing that morning. And the day before. And the one before that one. He’d never seen her wear anything else, actually. Had she not changed since she’d arrived here?

He frowned, glancing at the drawer before focusing on her again, but his voice was gentle when he spoke. Tentative, almost. “Do you need some clean clothes?”

That got a reaction out of her. She looked down at her nightgown, then at the door that led to the bathroom before finally looking at him. But her eyes dropped as she answered. “I can’t take a bath.”

The words were barely audible even in the silent room, and yet they hit Azriel like a punch to the gut. She couldn’t take a bath. Couldn’t, probably because it brought back memories of the Cauldron. His heart clenched and he had to take a deep breath to calm down and not go back to Hybern to deal with the king all by himself.

His shadows lunged forward as if they wanted to reassure her, but he held them back. He approached her slowly, stopping just in front of her. He crouched down next to her and waited for her to meet his eyes before speaking.

“Let me help,” he said, unable to hide his concern any longer. He wanted to erase that haunted look from her eyes and he’d do anything to make her feel safe and protected again.

“You’re not alone, Y/N,” he continued, his tone gentle. In his mind, he was cursing himself for not having thought she might experience this kind of problem. “I could help you bathe. We can do it at your pace and stop whenever you wish.”

She stared into his eyes and it felt like an eternity passed before she nodded. Relief flooded his chest at her trust, her willingness to finally let someone help her.

Without a word, she stood up and headed for the bathroom. Azriel followed her, his wings tucked in tight behind his back. He had no idea what he was doing, but he knew one thing: he’d do anything in his power to help her, now and forever.

~~~~~~

Y/N watched the water slowly fill the tub. Her heart was already pounding in her chest, but she could feel Azriel next to her and somehow it steadied her.

Being around him was weird. She couldn’t point out what it was exactly that made her feel that way. There was just something about him that made all her senses go on alert, and yet she wouldn’t describe it as an uncomfortable feeling. Not to mention how Azriel was one of the few things she remembered from that day in Hybern. The Cauldron, and him. His body covered in blood, with that arrow protruding from his chest. And the relief she’d felt the first time she saw him walk into her room, healed.

“Y/N?”

She blinked, the tub now filled before her. Azriel said something else, but she wasn’t listening. A frown appeared on her face as she stared down at the water like it was her worst enemy. She guessed it was, in a way. Especially after what had happened when she’d tried to take a bath a few days ago. But Azriel was right. She wasn’t alone now. Maybe this time would be different.

She hadn’t changed her nightgown since she’d been given it a week ago simply because she couldn’t stand the sight of her own body. It didn’t feel like hers anymore. It didn’t look much different from when she was human, other than the arched Fae ears, but now it felt like it was someone else’s. Like it didn’t belong to her.

But she now let it fall off her body, not even noticing the shadows that shot forward to cover her nakedness. She didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything other than that tub and what was about to happen.

With a steadying breath, she climbed inside. The shadows didn’t follow her into the warm water, leaving her completely exposed, and maybe in another situation she would have blushed. Just a week ago, she would have. But now there was only her and the water, reaching up almost to her shoulders, and for the first few moments she thought it was going to be fine.

And then she was in the Cauldron again.

She began shaking as the dark water rose and rose, and it was now at her neck, and she knew it’d soon reach her mouth and her nose, and then it’d submerge her and the pain would begin. Every cell in her body was yelling at her to get out, to swim toward the surface, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think.

She could hear a muffled voice coming from outside the Cauldron, but she couldn’t make out the words. The world was quickly disappearing, the water rising, and she was trapped, trapped under the surface, trapped in the darkness. Soon she’d feel that excruciating pain again, as if her body was being ripped apart, slowly and thoroughly.

Tears were streaming down her face and she sobbed, drawing her legs close to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She began to rock back and forth and maybe she was begging for it to stop, to never start, maybe she was screaming or calling out for someone, maybe she wasn’t saying anything at all.

As that dark freezing water closed above her and pulled her under, she knew the pain would come soon. And there was nothing she could do to stop it. She was drowning and there was nothing she could do, nothing she could do, nothing she could…

A tender, gentle touch on her cheek. From far away, someone called her name. And among the chaos, the darkness, the crippling fear, she saw a pair of hazel eyes, soft and yet concerned. A male voice assuring her that she was safe, that he was with her.

She wanted to believe that voice, but the water was pulling her under, cold and dark and terrifying. But that gentle voice was still talking to her, those hazel eyes still looking into hers, and she tried to hold on to them, to not let it all slip away.

And then someone took her hand and suddenly she felt something thumping beneath her palm. A heartbeat, she realized. Life.

Heartbeat meant life. Not death, not pain.

Life.

“Breathe with me, Y/N.”

She didn’t know where the voice was coming from, how it could sound so clear and close when she was drowning in the depths of the Cauldron.

“One breath in, one breath out.”

That heartbeat was steady, the voice gentle, those hazel eyes still in front of her. Like a light in the dark. She had to reach them, somehow.

“Can you do it for me, Y/N?”

She didn’t know if she could, but she wanted to. Her lungs were full of water and she was drowning, dragged down and down in the endless pit of the Cauldron, pain tearing her apart as she sank. But the voice never stopped. It kept telling her she was safe, asking her to stay with him, to breathe with him. And so she did, following his instructions.

One breath in, one breath out.

She stared into those beautiful eyes.

One breath in, one breath out.

She focused on that heart beating against her palm.

One breath in, one breath out.

The Cauldron disappeared. She blinked, and Azriel was there. He was kneeling next to the tub, his hands holding hers against his chest, on his heart. There was a small smile on his face.

“That’s it, Y/N. You’re doing great,” he said, his tone reassuring and soothing. “You’re here with me. You’re safe now. No one will harm you, I promise.”

She had stopped shaking and rocking, but tears were still running down her cheeks. Azriel just kept murmuring praises and reassurances, his eyes never leaving hers. And finally, after what felt like hours, she stopped crying.

She watched as Azriel wiped away her tears, as he leaned in to brush a kiss on her forehead. “You’re alright,” he whispered, and she believed him, but her eyes never left him.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? You’re doing great, Y/N,” he continued, his voice low and soothing.

She didn’t stop him when he picked up a sponge, poured some scented soap on it, and then began to pass it over her arm, his touch light and careful as if he was afraid of hurting her. But even if he wasn’t looking at her anymore, she kept her eyes on his face and her hand pressed against his chest. She still needed to feel his heartbeat, his breathing, so that she could sync it with her own.

But slowly, as Azriel passed the sponge on her arms, her shoulders, her back, she began to relax. He’d pulled her back to reality and he was now washing her with such gentleness, as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

“Azriel…” she murmured, her hand finally falling away from his chest. She could breathe on her own now, though a bit shakily.

He paused mid-scrub, his sponge on her neck. “I’m here, Y/N,” he said as he met her eyes. “Are you alright?”

She didn’t know how to answer that question. She wasn’t alright, but she was better than before. And this time, thanks to him, she hadn’t spent hours trapped in the tub, only to bolt out once she’d regained control, without having even touched the soap. Even now, though, she had to fight to keep the fear at bay.

“No,” she murmured. Once again, Azriel’s presence made her feel comfortable enough to share that truth and let herself be vulnerable. It was like an innate feeling in her chest, encouraging her to trust him.

She saw the concern in his eyes as she answered and how he seemed to tense a little, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he offered her the sponge and gestured vaguely to her body, as if to tell her to take over the task. “I’ll wash your hair.”

Before she could say anything, he was already moving behind her and filling a jug with water. While she finished washing her body, Azriel took care of her hair, a hand shielding her forehead and her eyes. She didn’t know if it was just a random precaution or if he could somehow sense that getting water on her face would bring back the memories of the Cauldron. Something told her it was the latter.

She even went as far as closing her eyes, relaxing slightly under his gentle care.

~~~~~~

Azriel felt her relax, and a small smile appeared on his lips as he continued to rinse her hair.

He'd seen the terror and horror seize her body and her mind, his heart breaking at the sight and at the sound of her weak voice just repeating the word ‘please’ over and over. She'd been so lost in it that he couldn't reach her, and he'd been about to pick her up and out of the tub when he'd had an idea and decided to try one last thing. Fortunately, his heartbeat worked, and he was proud of her for pushing through and coming back to reality. Back to him.

Once her hair was clean, she looked so relaxed that Azriel just wanted to make her feel like that for a little longer. He picked up the comb and started to run it through her hair, making sure no tangles remained.

She stirred a bit but didn't say anything. He was glad he could help her now, at least. When she'd been shoved into the Cauldron, he was so hurt and weak that he couldn't do anything more than take one little step in her direction before his brothers held him back.

“I'm all done,” he said after a few minutes, breaking the comfortable silence they'd fallen into. “Would you like to stay here a bit longer?”

She shook her head and immediately rose from the tub, her body dripping water. Azriel made sure to have his shadows cover her nakedness again as he offered her a towel, but it still wasn't enough to prevent his heart from pounding in his chest.

Though it stopped as soon as she stepped out of the tub, and he noticed the tears in her eyes.

“Y/N, what's wrong?” he asked. Maybe he'd gone too far, maybe he'd done something wrong or overstepped in some way. But she had seemed so calm and relaxed till a few moments ago…

She took a step toward him and reached out, gently taking his hand. “I… I just don't know how to thank you,” she murmured, and Azriel felt relief wash over him. “What you've just done for me, I… I can't thank you enough for it.”

Azriel smiled, then. A reassuring, soft smile as he gave her hand a tender squeeze. “You don't need to. You needed help, and I'm glad I was the one who could offer it to you.”

She didn't look convinced, but she nodded anyway and stepped back, releasing his hand. “Thank you, Azriel.”

He wanted to tell her, then. That he'd always be there for her, whatever she needed, because she was his mate and he couldn't stand to see her suffer. But he couldn't tell her, not now, not when she was still so vulnerable.

Instead, he replied, “I told you. You don't have to thank me.”

Azriel wanted to wipe away her tears, to wrap her in his arms and never let her go. He wanted to make all her fears and worries disappear. And maybe one day they could get there. For now, he just gave her another smile. “I’ll let you get dressed. But if you need anything else, please let me know. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help.”

He began to walk out and toward her room’s door, his shadows lingering close to her for a second before they drifted back to their master. And as his hand grabbed the handle, he heard her soft voice calling him once more.

“Azriel?”

He turned back to her. She was standing in the bathroom doorway, still wrapped in the towel, and she was chewing on her lower lip, as if not sure she should continue. When she didn’t say anything, he stepped away from the door. “Yes, Y/N?”

It took her one more moment before she finally answered. “I’d like to sleep, but I… I usually can’t, with all the nightmares. But I’m so tired and I thought…” She paused and he could see she was getting embarrassed. He’d just helped her bathe and she hadn’t shied away, but now she was nervous about whatever she was going to ask? He tilted his head, not sure where this was going, and she continued. “I feel like I can trust you, like I’m safe with you. And after what you did for me, I thought… would you mind staying with me a bit longer? Just until I fall asleep, I promise.”

Her words were so unexpected that he didn’t react at first. Helping her bathe had been his idea, and she’d just agreed. But knowing her trust was enough for her to ask this, that he made her feel safe after everything she’d been through… it warmed his heart.

She must have misunderstood his silence, because she began babbling. “Or not, I guess. I’m sorry, I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just thought… I shouldn’t have taken for granted you would–”

“Y/N,” Azriel interrupted, taking one step toward her. “I don’t mind. I’d gladly stay, if that’s what you want.”

A hint of a smile graced her lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he answered, his breath catching at the sight of that first tiny, shy smile. “You can trust me, and you are safe with me.” He gestured toward her dresser. “Now get changed. You deserve some rest.”

She nodded and Azriel made sure to look out the window as she put on a clean nightgown. He then moved the chair she’d been sitting on earlier close to her bed and watched her climb under the sheets. Even pale and tired, she looked beautiful, with her damp hair spread out on the pillow.

“I know you said I don’t have to,” she murmured, her eyes scanning his face, “but I’ll never thank you enough for this.”

Azriel just smiled. “Try to sleep, Y/N. Don’t worry about that.”

She curled up into herself, her eyes closing, yet she still whispered one more thing. “Just until I fall asleep. Then you can go.”

“I know.”

Now that she couldn’t see them, his shadows seized the opportunity to leave his side and curled through her hair, as if they too found it hard to keep away. He didn’t try to stop them or make them fall back, not when her expression relaxed even more and her breathing became slow and deep.

He wanted to be there, in case she’d wake up because of the nightmares she’d mentioned. So even long after she’d fallen asleep, Azriel kept watch over his mate.

֍֍֍֍֍

Read part 2 here!

[acomaflove]

Azriel: *sneezes and shadows come out of his nose*

Rhysand:

Amren:

Morrigan:

Cassian:

Feyre:

Nesta: ………So we are all just going to ignore that?

Cassian: Oh my bad; bless you, Azriel.

Nesta: THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT

[azsazz]

In Safe Arms

Bodyguard!Azriel x Celebrity!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Hey ! Ik u are hella busy and I am so proud of ur for ur publication , but if u ever get time could u do a Celebrity reader x bodyguard az?

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2390

_________________________________________

“I said back the fuck off!” Azriel growls, and you know for a fact that the paparazzi who’s been steadily inching closer and closer throughout the night has landed himself on your bodyguards shit list.

Azriel’s hand doesn’t leave the small of your back, no matter how much he wants to lunge across the sidewalk and knock the fucking camera out of this goon’s hands. The man’s been harassing you all week, from the moment you stepped off the plane in New York, getting testier and testier with his shots, following you from your hotel to your shoots, to parties and bars and back to your hotel late into the evening hours. He doesn’t know how the man finds the time to sleep, honestly.

And he knows it’s the same one following you around, not only because it’s his job to remember people that might prove to be a threat to you, but because he’d never forget this fucking scumbag’s face.

You duck your head lower, pressing Azriel’s handkerchief tightly to your eyebrow. There’s blood dripping into your eye from whatever it was a fan tossed your way as soon as you’d stepped foot out of your SUV. Azriel had been turned toward you, lending you a helping hand from the vehicle when it struck. He whirled around, but it was too late, the coward had slunk off into the crowd before he could sniff them out like a bloodhound.

And Azriel was livid.

If your father had just hired two bodyguards to protect you instead of one, this wouldn’t have happened.

Not that Azriel isn’t qualified to keep you safe by himself. With six years of training with the Royal Marines under his belt, he’s more than capable. He’s carried injured men across his back for miles when there was no hope of getting out for fuck’s sake. But this is a new playing field entirely. You’re the most well-known celebrity he’s had the pleasure of working with, and when your father didn’t heed his advice that one bodyguard was not enough, he knew he was going to be in for a challenge.

A challenge that he’s failed tonight.

You let him lead you blindly, trying your best to block out your surroundings: the screaming fans begging for a picture or autograph, the stream of liquid you’re desperately trying to blink from your eye and soak up with the rag. Your heart is pounding loudly in your chest, breathing shallow pants, and the only thing keeping you from collapsing right onto the concrete outside of your hotel is Azriel’s strong hand at your back, guiding you to safety.  

“Almost there,” he murmurs at your back, and your shoulders slacken slightly at the familiarity of his voice cutting through all the other noises that pierce your ears. “Only a few more steps and we’ll be in the lobby.”

He’s right, the concierge is holding the door open just enough for the both of you to slip through, and when it shuts tightly behind you, muffling off the loud wails and camera flashes, you release a shaky breath.

“Miss, are you okay?” The man asks, concern lacing his tone, like his job is on the line because someone decided to toss something at your face. “Do you need me to call the polic—”

“No, no,” you blurt frantically, waving him off. “That’s not necessary.”

“(Y/N)—” Azriel tries to cut in, and you know that this is something he’s going to have to report to his boss. Concern laces his tone, not for his job, but for you, because you’re injured and shaking in the middle of the lobby, looking like an abandoned puppy left to wilt in the rain. “I think you should—”

“No, Az,” you choke out, finally lifting your gaze from the floor to meet his. The look he wears makes your breath catch in your throat, but looking at him always does. He’s beautiful. And completely off limits.

His thick, straight brows are the only thing that gives his concern away. There’s a wrinkle between them that you want to reach out and smooth with the pad of your finger. His mouth is set in a firm line, not unusual for the stoic man. And his eyes, well his eyes are roiling with anger, hot coals ready to combust.

You don’t even care that you’ve called him the name you shouldn’t. You’re not supposed to address him by his name at all, let alone the nickname you’ve secretly become fond of. Right now, though, you’re much to shaken to realize your slip up, and he’s too worried about your wound to correct you.

“Please,” you beg, tears brimming your eyes. His tall, built frame conceals you from the people still lingering outside, and he spots that fucking paparazzi from the corner of his eye, smirking in the window as he cranes as far as he can to be the first to get a shot at your injury. “I want to go to my room.”

You’re already pulling the cloth from your face, and he’s quick to reach out and press it back, all too aware of the people around. Any one of them could spill the beans, could secretly be listening or recording, ready to make a quick buck off your horrendous night. Fucking assholes, all of them.

“Okay,” he consoles, glaring harshly at the concierge when he opens his mouth to protest. The man’s jaw snaps shut with an audible click, and he scurries away. Returning his attention to you, one hand pinning yours and the cloth you’re clutching to your face, he urges you toward the elevator. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

The doors chime open, and after getting you on safely and pushing the button to the suite on the top floor of the building, Azriel shoots one last menacing look to the paparazzi that’s still standing out front. He’s going to have a few phone calls tonight, with the hotel security and the local police, because he doesn’t want that fuck anywhere near you ever again.

The sleazy pap has the gall to wink at Azriel before the doors shut between you and the man he knows will be standing in that exact spot come the morning when it’s time for you to leave again.

The ride is long, and with the adrenaline draining from your system, you’re exhausted. Azriel lets you sag against him, and you trust him so fully that you let your eyes drift shut, allowing him to guide you through your room and straight into the bathroom so that he can take care of your wound.

You crack your eyes open when he lifts you to rest on the counter before dropping to his knees and helping you out of your heels. Your feet scream happily, and your body ignites at the sight of him on his knees before you.

Standing, he shoves the sleeves of his thick, black shirt up over his elbows, exposing those strong forearms you’d had the pleasure of peeking at for the last few months. That’s not the only thing you’ve noticed about Azriel. There are scars on his hands, bad ones. You don’t know what they’re from, but you’re aching to know. To learn anything about the man who’s been your bodyguard for the better part of this year.

“I think you should go home,” Azriel says softly. Or, as softly as someone like him can. It sounds harsh, gruff, but you know he doesn’t mean it like a demand. He’s concerned in his own way.

“I can’t pull out of my appearances, that’ll only make me look worse,” you argue, sliding back onto the counter he guides you to. People already hate you enough for the rift that Azriel has caused in your relationship with superstar Tamlin Oleander. Having an attractive man protecting you has not only made the man your team is paying to be with you insecure, but he’s been twisting this story for too long already. Pulling out of your appearances now will only give the fans another reason to pick and tear at you.

He scrubs his hands hard with the bar of soap in the sink before toweling them off and looking at your injury.

There’s a split above your eyebrow. Face wounds bleed a lot, he tells himself, smothering the memory that rises at the sight. Except that that injury was about an inch lower, and his comrade didn’t make it out alive.

“Who cares about looking worse,” Azriel scoffs. This time, he speaks harsher, but his movements against your face are still soft. The sting is barely there because you’re focusing on the buzz his fingertips brushing your skin provide. You’re focusing on the soft spot in his hazel eyes as he examines your wound, his breath against your skin. It’s dizzying. And not from the blood loss. “You should care about being safe.”

Neither of you brings up that it’s his job to do just that, but it sits heavily in the room anyway, sucking all the air from the expansive bathroom.

He swallows harshly, refusing to look at you. He busies himself with plucking a few butterfly bandages from the first aid kit beside him. The split skin above your eyebrow aches when he pinches the slice together to apply the bandage. “I’ll call down to the lobby to see if there’s someplace more private we can meet the car to take you to the hospital. You’re going to need a stitch or two.”

“Azriel, wait,” you call, grabbing for his hand when he turns to leave the room. You know exactly what’s going to happen when he crosses over that threshold. “Please don’t call him.”

He allows you to stop him, but he doesn’t turn to face you. He can’t. Can’t bear to look at you when his failure is staring right back at him. He let you get hurt, and he’ll never forgive himself for it.

Azriel’s body is too still, and his tone is too even when he answers. “I have to.”

“You don’t,” you plead, clutching him tighter. If he calls your father and tells him about what happened tonight you know you’ll never see him again, and if you never see him again, you’ll be fucking miserable. You’ve found comfort in Azriel’s presence throughout the time you’ve been working together, and he’s the only one who’s been able to see through the façade you put on, the personality you’ve spent so long pretending to be. He sees you.

“I do.”

“Why?” You don’t care that you’re getting worked up, that you voice is becoming louder with your desperation. That your nails are biting into the skin of his arm because you refuse to let him walk away from you.

Azriel whirls, and you startle back a step. But you don’t let him go, you never want to let him go. You take him with you, and he goes tripping forward with how you’ve caught him off guard.

He stumbles into you and his hands find your waist, steadying you against the counter. His grip on you is tight. His eyes defeated.

“I couldn’t protect you tonight,” he admits, and you can hear the heartbreak in his voice, you can almost see the memories that resurface, threatening to drag him under. “You need someone who can.”

“You can, Azriel! It’s an isolated incident!” You’re desperately trying to get him to see reason, scrabbling your fingers at his shirt, dragging him even further into you. Tears slide down your face, and for the first time of the night, you’re afraid. You weren’t scared when Azriel was the one there, jumping into action, but now, thinking that he might leave you, you’re terrified.

“It won’t be,” he sighs, brushing his fingers softly over yours, trying to calm you down lest you reopen your wound. “Now that it’s happened, other will try, and I can’t have you getting hurt, sweetheart. I can’t protect you like I thought I could.”

Neither of you catch his slip of the tongue, too caught up in the emotions for it to register.

You can’t swallow back the sob. You try to bury your face in his shirt, but Azriel catches you gently around the shoulders, keeping you from hurting yourself.

His hands are calloused and strong, you can feel the ridges of the scarring that paints them. So tender, so cruel, so soft.

“I don’t want you to leave me,” you admit, blinking your tears away to meet his gaze. You don’t care that your makeup is probably a mess with your tears and whatever’s left of the blood, and Azriel doesn’t care because he still thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

Azriel presses his forehead against yours, swiping your tears with his thumbs. “I won’t,” he promises, “I can’t.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and just like that, you’re staring up and him and he’s staring back at you like you’re the most prized possession in this hotel, in this world.

He doesn’t know when he fell for you, if it was the way you tried to find the cracks in his stoic exterior between photoshoots and interviews, or if it’s the way you opened yourself up for him only, showed him the real you.

You’re nothing like the way you’re portrayed in the media. None of those fucking people know how big your heart is, how much you’ve been hurt, how much you care.

And he’d lie down his life to keep you safe and whole.

“Promise me.” You breathe. Your lips brush his as you speak, and the gentle touch sends shockwaves up your spine. You follow their current, lengthening your spine, pushing closer to Azriel. His hands tighten on your hips, and you spread your legs wider for him so slot himself between.

He does with a jagged breath, like he’s trying to hold himself back but is unable. His hazel eyes bore into yours and you see the war there, how he wants to go against everything he vowed not to do with you. He shouldn’t be anywhere near you like this…but he can’t help himself.

“I promise,” he says, along with ‘fuck it’ in his head, and leans down to capture your lips against his.

[assriels]

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.  

[maddiecoreee]

making a triumphant (but hesitant) return to tumblr bc I am suffering so deeply from ACOTAR brain rot and need somewhere to expel the madness.

this is my first pass at drawing Feyre and Rhysand- or any ACOTAR fanart at all !! Still trying to figure out how to draw Rhys, tattoos, and wings. I’m very very new to this fandom and series, and I hope to contribute some cool art 🫡

[redheadspark]

Miss

Summary - Azriel missed you on his latest mission, and he shows you how much he has missed you

Warnings - SMUT SMUT SMUT! This is a SMUT one piece, NO MINORS FROM HERE ON OUT!

A/N - I am no SMUT writer, apologies in advance!

You were right at the peak, beyond close to tipping over and having that euphoria of pleasure consume you once again for the fifth time that night.  But then again, you were wishing not to let go just yet, this was the right amount of pleasure that was now wrapping around your bones and consuming you from the inside out.  All thanks to the Illyrian Spymaster above you who was taking his sweet time fucking you.  

This was his game: the game of Azriel the Shadowsinger of Night Court.

All you could breathe was Azriel, all you could feel was Azriel, and all you could ever experience was Azriel. There was no doubt that this was the best kind of drug that you could ever consume and need in your face life, even after 300 hundred years together as mates.  Azriel snuck into your life, someone you never saw coming when you were introduced by Mor.  There was no instant explosion of lust, nor was it bone dry and unfeeling.  It felt like you were slipping into a warm bath, your muscles unwinding instantly and a sigh of relief on your lips as you two shook hands for the first time.  Although you were friends at first, you both knew deep down that you were going to be connected in some way.

It only took a few years after meeting and building your friendship to feel the bond take place. From there on out, it was game over.

Azriel never stopped his hips, his toned muscles along his backside were working on overdrive as he was having over you while fucking you with such precision laced with intimacy and devotion, it was almost tooth aching.  But this was how Azriel worked when you two were in the throws of pleasure, going in right for the kill at the very beginning and then taking his time later on.  His patience in giving you pleasure could not be measured by any other, though you were not one to complain at all.  If he could, he could keep you on edge for hours on end and still have the drive to make you come undone within seconds.

Azriel was good at this game, and you would let him win every time.

"Oh fuck, my love," He growled against your cheek as his hips were still rolling.  Your legs were parted easily, sore for being spread for some time but now the feeling now a dull ache.  Just feeling his toned muscles and body against your own was enough for you to forget your thighs that were shaking.  His arms braced your head as your arms clung to his shoulders, feeling a bit of his wings as they were tucked against his back.  He kissed your cheek a few times as you were holding on for dear life, hearing him murmur, "I don't think I can ever stop,"

"Fuck…fuck don't stop," You moaned and pleaded as he gave a few hard thrusts, having your eyes roll back as his smile against your jaw was evident.

"I won't ever leave you that long ever again," He swore, engraining it in your skin as you bit your lower lip and moved one of your hands to run into his sweaty locks, "It was too….fuck…too long away from you, from being able to touch you like this…"

As if on cue, he moved one of his hands from being near your head to rubbing your clit, having you moan loudly and curl into him as the pleasure was now heightened to the tenth degree.  You were putty in his hands, and Azriel smirked from feeling you shake once his thumb rubbed your clit slowly and deliberately.  

You both knew you needed this night together, Azriel being away for almost an entire month thanks to Rhysand and his need for Azriel and his Spymaster ability.  Rhysand was on a tour of sorts to the other Courts, his own way of keeping peace with the other High Lords and going over the treaties that were signed.  Rhsyand was more than willing to go on his own, not letting High Lady Feyre come nor their own Nyx.  Feyre was running Night Court without him and Nyx was too young.  If left him having both Cassian and Azriel come along with him, Cassian talking to other army commanders in other courts, and Azrile being a second pair of eyes and ears in those meetings.

You were left alone from your mate for that long month, keeping busy and helping your High Lady.  But you weren't going to lie and say you didn't miss your mate, his company with you, your talks together, and most of all, the intimacy with him.  There was no doubt you two had a healthy sex life, a very healthy one at that.  The jokes from Rhysand and Cassian about Azriel and his high energy in bed were always evident when you and Azriel just got together, though you never let it affect you.  

But you knew those rumors were true when you and Azriel first slept together.  

"Azriel…Az please.." You mewled as his thumb was still rubbing your clit and his hips were still going at a constant cadence that was both filthy and yet touching at the same time.  Azriel knew how to fuck and he fucked well, no matter how many times you two were together like this, he made your heart soar and your moans sound lethal.  This night was no different, Azriel starting off the night instantly as you two made it back to your penthouse home in the city.  Azriel left his hesitance at the door, perching you on the edge of the kitchen island as he sank to his knees and dived in between your legs within seconds.  Shaking and moaning with no shame, you felt yourself cumming within two minutes of him licking into your pussy with just his tongue alone.  Watching your orgasm and your shake on the counter drew more desire from him, his chin still glistening from your release as he then licked his own fingers to have a second round with you.

Another four minutes, you came from his fingers.  Azriel was only warming up.

"Please what, my love?" He asked as he watched your eyes dilated and your lips parted in pleasure as he was still pounding into you slowly and with deep precision, "There is no way I can be done with you when you look and feel like this, beyond words,"  He lightly bit your jawline as you huffed and bit your lower lip, "I can't get enough of you, ever.  Nothing else has ever come close in my love, and I don't want anything else,"

You moaned, both from his words and how on edge you were.  He nuzzled into your cheek for a brief moment, breathing in your scent that was mixed with sex as he leaned back to be sitting on his legs.  Seeing you sprawled on your satin sheets, a gift from Rhysand on your wedding day, blissed out in pleasure with your hair plastered to your neck and cheeks and your eyes wide in love, Azriel thought you were heavenly.  His cock was still nestled deep inside of you, your pussy aching both in intense pleasure and lust as he drank in the sight of you.  He wanted this picture for the rest of his days, Inca se he had to go away again and think of you deep in the night for him to have something to come back to.

This night alone was memorable, fucking you against the shower wall as the water went cold against his back, then taking you from behind on the bathroom floor moments after turning off the water in the shower.  Which led to you two tangled on your bed, you riding him with a new core of desire in your belly.  But this, being pinned under Azriel as he was relentlessly fucking you into the mattress, was beyond words and made you feel like you were floating out of your body. 

Azriel was a pro at this.

"Cauldron, you're breathtaking," He hummed in lust as he was watching you while still perched over you, his cock rock hard inside your pussy as you lazily grinned.  You were still on edge, but that ache was nothing new for you in how he would draw this out for as long as he could to make your orgasm mind-numbingly amazing.  You reached up with one spare hand, Azriel then leaning down to have you cradle his face with your palm.  But your fingers were near his lips, you tracing his Lowe lips to feel how plump they were and you moaned.

"Gods you're divine," You moaned as his hazel eyes drilled into your own.  Without breaking eye contact, he opened his mouth to let two of your fingers slip into his mouth lustfully.  His tongue along your digits, with the wicked grin on his face, was enough to make you scream as his hips were moving again.  It was such a site, Azriel fucking you deeply and with new pent-up energy as he was sucking your fingers made you teeter on edge all over again.  You were so close, the feeling there along your spine and under your eyes as you were now babbling at him, knowing it was a turn-on for him to hear you moan and whimper his name.

"Fuck me…please fuck me….make me cum….make me cum.  Now, Az.  Now….I wanna cum…" You were repeating it like a mantra as he was drilling his hips again and again.  Nothing else was in your head, only the love you had for Azriel and how much he cherished you in his life.  He placed you first in all his choices and decisions as a Spymaster, choosing the less threatening missions and fights just to keep himself safe to come home to him.  How he loved you with both his words and his actions whenever he could.  Azriel felt as if you two being mates was fate for him, meant to be, and nothing would change that for him in his mind. Not even the Cauldron itself would take you away from him.  

And watching you orgasm, howling in pure pleasure and euphoria was enough for Azriel to also fall over the edge.  He felt himself empty inside of you, the sense of love and relief all over his body as his wings shot out in the moment of him summing.  The release, the new layer of love that was unleashed with the both of you, made Azriel almost float to the sky if he could.  

He would choose you over anything, over anyone, in this lifetime or beyond.  

Finally feeling boneless, he collapsed on top of you and held you close, still deep inside of you but not wishing to lose that connection anytime soon.  Holding you close, he breathed you in as your fingers were tracing his arms with the tips of your fingers.  Azriel held you like a jewel, delicately and with possession at the same time, while his lips were pecking along your neck and shoulder.  No matter how many times you two would fuck, there was still the foundation of you two loving each other.

Loving each other through the highs of your life and the lows.  Through the tragedies and the joy.  Azriel loved you with everything in him, you grinning against his head as you finally found your voice.

"If you intended on giving me the best sleep, then you have done well, my love," You said against his forehead.  Ariel laughed, the vibration of his laughter was against your neck as he held you a pinch tighter.

"You bring this side of me out in the best way," He cooed, then moved his head up to be eye to eye with you as your gaze on him lingered with affection.  He paused, looking you over and feeling the sensation of peace between the two of you.  Even in the tossed sheets and deep in the night, you both were back to the solid foundation of your love together.

"I've missed you so," He whispered to you, making your heart flutter as he nuzzled your nose with his.

"Not as much as I missed you," You hummed back, ruffling his hair as he leaned in to kiss you.  

The End

[yazthebookish]

"I love you. Even when we are a whisper of existence among the stars."

Feyre and Rhysand's Secret Mating Ceremony commissioned by me with the amazingly talented Artcraawl (link to art post here).

[azrielsrealmate]

if I don’t put my hands over you right now…

azriel x reader

summary: your night in Rita’s was supposed to end with Azriel between your legs, not Azriel beating up your abusive ex.

warnings: suggestiveness, fight, blood, injuries, dark themes if you squint, SLIGHT trauma from an abusive relationship.

word count: 2.7k

Yk when at the High Lords meetings Azriel just snaps when Eris speaks about Mor..? Yeah, I liked that scene way too much. So here this is😸

Rita’s is packed, the heat radiating from every dancing body, the rhythm of the music pulsing through the floor and vibrating in your bones. You've spent nearly half an hour letting yourself go to the rhythm, your hips swaying in time, your eyes half-closed as Mor laughs and pulls you closer to the crowd. You're intoxicated, not just by the liquor you've consumed, but by the power you feel in being so aware of your body, so heated and alive in this dress that hugs you tightly and leaves so little to the imagination.

You spent hours getting ready. Three hours in the bathroom, meticulously shaving, slathering yourself with coconut creams until your skin was soft and fragrant, every detail of you arranged with almost cruel precision. And while part of you did it just to look good, to feel pretty, you know there’s something more. A deeper desire, the real reason you spent three hours locked away like a maniac.

The reason hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he first saw you that night. Azriel. It's always been Azriel.

The push and pull between you two has been constant, furtive glances and subtle touches, half-spoken words and smiles that hide more than they reveal.

You know he’s watching you, you feel it even when you’re not looking, a sensation that burns the back of your neck, and anticipation grows with every passing moment, tingling under your skin. A pang in your gut—intuition, they call it—you think something is going to happen. Naively, you think it might be good, really good, a reward for those three hours in the bathroom pampering yourself.

The music shifts to a slower, deeper rhythm, and the heat in the room seems to intensify. And you really can’t take it anymore, your breath is quick and shallow, and you hate the thought of breathing in the scent of sweat from constantly moving bodies, so you decide it’s time for a break, for a cold drink to refresh you.

You pull away from Mor with a smile and head to the bar, enjoying the slight coolness that the nonexistent breeze offers. At least there aren't people blocking everything in your view anymore.

Just as you're about to order your drink, you feel it. That familiar scent of cedar and mist, an aroma that always makes you turn your head, that wraps you in a feeling of safety, of desire, and something darker. Your heart beats faster with it, urging you to be afraid, but you're smarter than that. And then, the hands. Firm, confident, and so large on your hips that you fantasize about what they could do to you, they settle on your hips and pull you back against a hard, unyielding chest.

Though his chest isn’t the only thing that’s incredibly hard.

You laugh softly, knowing who it is without even having to look. You can feel the strength in him, the tension built up in the way he pulls you so desperately against him. He’s so close, and he leans down so that his mouth is right by your ear, and when he speaks, his voice is a low growl that wraps around every inch of your skin, making you exhale, your skin prickling. You press your thighs together.

“If I don’t put my hands on you right now, I’m going to put them around the neck of every man looking at you.”

The whole world seems to stop for a second. Your breath catches, and the pulse in your throat pounds. You knew there would be consequences tonight, but the reality of it hits you like a punch. Azriel, always controlled, always restrained, is on the edge, and the idea of that control breaking… is intoxicating. You smell it, so thick you can taste it, musky. God, you’d give anything to have it on your tongue for real.

“You don’t have to be so dramatic,” you murmur, but your voice trembles, betraying you. Because deep down, you like it. You like that he’s so close, that he’s so vulnerable with you, that he feels something so fierce that it drives him to act. Your words seem to only provoke him further because the grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into the fabric of your dress.

“Dramatic doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he whispers against your ear, his warm breath trailing over your skin. “You… have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

The trembling inside you turns into a wave, and you can barely contain it. It’s an effort not to roll your eyes in pure pleasure, not to rub your thighs together to get some friction.

“And what are you going to do about it?” you whisper, challenging him. Although to you, it’s not a challenge, it’s an offering. So full of need that you have to mask it.

Azriel doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he turns you, gently but firmly, until you’re face to face with him. His eyes, as dark as the night itself, are lit with a mix of emotions that make you tremble. Slowly, his gaze lowers to your dress, the slight leopard lace that gathers at the top, just enough to give him a tantalizing view of the skin you so carefully prepared.

“This dress…” he murmurs, his voice deep and laden with meaning. “It’s on purpose. You knew what it would do, what it would do to me.” His hand moves up, slowly, from your hip to the small portion of bare skin on your shoulder, brushing it with a tenderness that contrasts with the fire in his eyes. “If you wore it for me, then I have the right to take it off you.”

Your lips part, words trapped in your throat as you try to process the intensity of what he’s saying. But before you can respond, his mouth is on yours, stealing your breath, demanding more than you thought you were willing to give.

The kiss is hard, fierce. His tongue claims your mouth as his own, exploring and savoring; you barely have time to keep up with him.

His hands roam over your body, exploring the skin you’ve prepared for him, and you cling to his shoulders because your knees are trembling. It’s as if the world around you disappears, leaving only Azriel, his mouth on yours, his body firm against yours, and the fire that heats your skin and spreads to his.

When he finally pulls away, you’re both panting, and he looks at you as if he can’t decide whether he wants to kiss you again or carry you out of Rita’s right then and there.

“Let’s go,” he says, his voice more of an order than a request, and although his tone is firm, there’s a plea in his eyes. A need that mirrors your own. And it’s completely overwhelming, you can only nod. And your legs move when your mind is still dazed from the kiss, his hand on your waist as if he can sense that.

Azriel comes to a sudden stop, just before you can cross the threshold of Rita’s, when a cold, venom-laden voice rises above the club's noise.

“Already got another man?”

Your heart stops for an instant, the heat of euphoria fading as you recognize the figure approaching. Tall, dark-haired, and gray-eyed, who used to look at you with something you believed was love, but now only shows resentment. Your face hardens at the sight of your ex, and a familiar tension settles in your chest, a reminder of the scars you still carry.

Azriel notices immediately. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin possessively. You can feel the tension in him, the way his body prepares to act, to protect you. Azriel’s shadows, always lurking, slip across the floor between you like snakes, dark and threatening until one of them coils around your shoulders.

“We broke up over a year ago, get over it,” you say, your voice tense but firm, maintaining your composure despite the turmoil inside you. You have no intention of giving him the satisfaction of seeing how much his presence affects you, how much Azriel’s grip on your waist is doing for you.

But he laughs, a bitter, hollow sound that makes your stomach churn. He takes a threatening step toward you, and though your body wants to retreat, you stand firm. You know this game. You know he’ll drink and get drunk on the slight fear in your eyes, he’ll go crazy if you back away, he’ll think he has more power than he does, so you force yourself to stay still.

His fists clench, and you see Azriel’s gaze turn lethal, a flash of cold fury that he barely contains.

Your ex doesn’t give you time to respond, the gray of his eyes fixed on Azriel, and his voice comes out filled with disdain, as sharp as a knife. “You’ll find out soon enough, she’s not worth it. All that pretty face, and she’s not even going to suck your…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He can’t. Because the moment those venomous words leave his mouth, Azriel moves, faster than a blink. You feel the heat of his body leave you for an instant, and then, the sound of impact. A dull, heavy thud reverberates in the air, and you see your ex stagger backward, blood spurting from his nose.

But Azriel doesn't stop there.

The wild gleam in his eyes tells you everything you need to know: he's not going to stop. He doesn't want to stop. With lethal efficiency, he launches himself at your ex again, his fist finding its mark over and over, with a fury that has been simmering for too long, now unleashed in an unstoppable torrent.

And you... do nothing to stop him. You could always say you were paralyzed, that you didn't know what to do, that it caught you by surprise because you remain there, your feet rooted to the ground as you watch Azriel destroy the man who had hurt you time and again. You should scream, you should intervene, but you don't. Because a part of you—that dark and wounded part—feels a perverse satisfaction watching him get what he deserves. Each blow seems to erase one of the invisible scars he left you, each groan of pain he emits sounds like justice for the years you lost with him.

Blood splatters the ground, and your ex tries to cover himself, but it’s futile. Azriel is unstoppable, his face transformed into a mask of pure rage, his shadows swirling around him like frenzied beasts, hungry for more.

But then, a giant figure bursts onto the scene, a whirlwind of muscle and strength. Cassian.

In an instant, the General of Rhys’s armies is upon them, his arms encircling Azriel and pulling him back with brutal force. But Azriel fights, his body trying to break free, desperate to keep punishing that man, to make him pay for every word, every insult, every wound he caused you.

"Azriel, stop!" Cassian’s voice booms above the chaos, laden with authority, but also concern. Cassian tightens his grip, his wings spreading to block everyone else’s view, his expression hardened as he uses all his strength to contain his brother.

You barely see it, but you hear him growl, a sound that doesn’t seem human, and for a terrible second, you think he might even turn on Cassian. His shadows swirl, dark and violent, but then, in an almost imperceptible movement, you see Azriel close his eyes, taking deep breaths, struggling with himself, fighting to control his rage.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Azriel relaxes enough for Cassian to release him, though his eyes are still blazing with that fury that makes you tremble. The shadows slowly recede, as if they still want to attack but obey their master.

Your ex lies on the ground, gasping, his face barely recognizable from the beating, but you know he’s conscious. You feel the weight of everyone’s gaze, but you can only look at Azriel. At Azriel, who continues to look at you as if you’re the only person in his world, as if his vision had narrowed to just you.

Cassian holds him by the shoulders, keeping him in place, though it’s no longer necessary. The fight is over, but the air is still charged with tension, so thick that if anyone decided to push too far, it would shatter with the sound of another broken bone.

Azriel steps away from Cassian, his eyes never leaving yours. He takes a step toward you, then another, until he’s standing in front of you, so close you can feel his breath on your skin.

"Are you okay?" His voice is a whisper, rough from the rage, but also filled with that unshakable concern he’s always had for you.

And for the first time in what seems like an eternity, you feel you can breathe again. You nod.

Cassian steps aside, giving one last piercing look at the man on the floor before giving you some space. Azriel remains unmoving, his eyes scanning every inch of your face, searching for any sign that this has affected you more than you admit. But all he sees is your determination.

"Let’s go," you finally say, your voice louder than you expected. You take his hand, his bloodied and bruised knuckles against your skin, and guide him out of Rita’s, away from the curious gazes and the chaos left behind.

————————————

The silence is almost overwhelming as you close the door of your apartment behind you. Azriel stands at the entrance, his eyes still dark with fury, but now the exhaustion and guilt begin to show in his expression. He says nothing, just watches you as you head to the bathroom and fetch the first aid kit. The sound of running water fills the space, but the tension between you is almost tangible.

When you return, you find him standing in the middle of the living room, his gaze lost on the floor. You don’t say anything as you gently take his hand, guiding him to the couch. Azriel allows himself to be led, his wings drooping and his posture relaxed now that the adrenaline has worn off. You can feel lighter yourself.

"Let me see," you whisper, barely a breath. You hold his hand with a softness that contrasts with the brutality of what you just witnessed. His knuckles are bloodied and his hands tremble slightly, though you’re not sure if it’s from the fight or from what he feels now.

He says nothing as you clean the blood, his gaze fixed on your hands, watching every move as if it’s the first time someone has cared for him this way. As if he’s never experienced tenderness before, and the way you’re wiping the blood from his knuckles is presenting it to him on a silver platter. It’s not the first time you’ve done this, but the intimacy of this moment, after what happened, feels different.

"I’m sorry," he murmurs finally, his voice barely a whisper. "I shouldn’t have lost control like that."

Your hands pause for a moment, your eyes meeting his. You see the guilt there, mixed with that smoldering rage that never seems to fully disappear.

"Don’t apologize," you reply firmly, resuming your task. "He deserved it. And... I’m not going to lie, Azriel. Watching him get what he deserved... it wasn’t so bad."

He looks at you, surprised by the confession, but something in your words seems to calm him. He accepts your response, though you know a part of him will always blame himself for losing control. It’s what makes him who he is.

When you finish cleaning and bandaging his knuckles, you keep his hand in yours for a moment longer, savoring the warmth you’ve always found in him. Azriel, who has always been your rock, your protector, now allows himself to be cared for, letting you see that vulnerability he so rarely shows.

"Thank you," he says softly, meeting your gaze with eyes now velvety as he looks at you without worrying about anything else, and his other hand reaching to caress your cheek with a gentleness that contrasts with the brutality of the night.

You don’t respond because there’s no need. Instead, you lean into him, allowing yourself to rest in the warmth of his embrace, in the comfort only he can offer you. Outside, the world keeps spinning, but here, in this small corner of your life, everything is calm.