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assriels · 17 days

Text

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.”

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shadowdaddies · 7 months

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Insatiable

Azriel x Reader

A/N: just a regular scenario that plays in my head because if I was Az's mate, I'd never get enough

Warnings: smut below the cut, shadow play, light bondage, teasing/edging, oral f!receiving, p in v sex, minors dni

Turning over on the mattress, you kicked off the sheets and huffed out a breath. You were restless, unable to sleep without your mate in the bed next to you.

Azriel looked up from his desk to see you padding into the office in your sheer nightgown, that familiar mischievous glint in your eyes. He cocked an amused eyebrow at you, tracking the sway of your hips as you made your way over to him.

You lightly pushed his chest against the back of the chair, giving yourself space to straddle his lap. Azriel smirked at you, “what are you doing, angel?” You didn’t respond, instead rolling your hips against his as you leaned in to lick a stripe up the side of his neck, stopping to suck on his pulse point. You felt Azriel harden beneath you, his breathing turning sharp as you continued kissing and sucking his neck and collarbone.

Azriel grabbed your hips, stilling your movements. You looked up at him, frustrated as he planted a kiss to your forehead. “I have to finish up these reports, sweetheart. I promise to take care of you after.”

He lifted you from his lap, you giving him a pointed stare as you declared, “Fine. I guess I’ll just have to take care of myself tonight,” and turned to stroll out the door. You made it around the desk when Azriel quickly grabbed your arm, whirling you around to where you were bent over the furniture facing him. His shadows pulled your arms taut across the desk as Azriel lifted your nightgown over your hips, exposing you to cool air of the office. “None of that, sweetheart. I told you I would take care of you, once I’m finished with my work,” Azriel cooed, stroking your cheek as he sat back in his chair across from you.

You whimpered as you felt Azriel’s shadows move up your legs to gently caress your inner thighs. Azriel continued with his work as though you weren’t soaked and panting for air inches away from him. The shadows glided up further, over your ass and around your stomach and chest. You writhed against the table at the teasing touches, small breathy moans leaving your mouth as they moved closer to where you needed to be touched. You whined at the feeling of the shadows grazing over your clit, oscillating so softly against your skin it was impossible to feel any sort of relief. You looked up at Azriel, pleading him to make eye contact with you as you struggled against the shadows’ hold.

After what felt like hours of torment, Azriel filed away the papers he’d been working on and shifted his attention to you. He smirked at your glazed over expression before moving around to stand behind where you were still bent over the desk. You scented his own arousal as he took in the sight of your dripping pussy, his hands gripping your hips as he leaned down to lick a broad stripe up your core. “Fuck, angel, you taste incredible.” You squirmed against the desk in an attempt to move closer to him. “Az, please don’t tease me. I need you inside me, now,” you begged.

“So needy. I told you I would take care of you, sweetheart,” Azriel murmured as he knelt behind you, wasting no time before thrusting his tongue inside you. You were sensitive from his shadows edging you, and when he brought his thumb to rub circles against your clit you couldn’t hold back your scream. “FUCK, Az. I need more, please,” you whimpered. Azriel obliged, switching to suck and lick your clit with his tongue as he curled two fingers inside you and began curling them against your walls in a way that had you seeing stars as you quickly reached your high.

Azriel cleaned you up with his tongue, sucking your flavor from his fingers as he groaned at the taste. He stood up as his shadows released their hold on your wrists, but you were too exhausted to hold yourself up. Azriel chuckled as he leaned down over your back, kissing your cheek as he whispered, “do you think you can handle me fucking you now?” You eagerly nodded, your tiredness from your last orgasm fading as you craved your mate’s touch once again.

Azriel undid his pants as you managed to prop yourself up on your elbows against the desk. He wrapped your hair around his fist, pulling you up against his chest as he slid into you, both of you moaning at the full feeling. “Fuck me hard, Az, please,” you whispered into his neck. Azriel groaned at your words and obliged you, pounding into you roughly as you struggled to stay upright. He moved one hand to wrap around your waist in support, his shadows once again coming down to rub your clit, this time sending you over the edge once more as you clenched around Azriel, screaming his name.

That was enough to send him over the edge after you, both of you panting as Azriel hugged you close to him, pressing kisses all over your face and neck. “Are you sated for awhile, my love?” Azriel asked you as he picked you up to carry you back to your bedroom. You hummed in thought, “at least until morning, hopefully.” He let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “Insatiable.”

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lainalit · 1 month

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Every women over the age of 20 in this fandom who still calls Tamlin "Tampon" peaked in High school💀

#acotar #acotar thoughts #a court of thorns and roses #acotar critical #anti acotar #anti sjm #sjm critical #pro tamlin #is your vocabulary so small that you can't find better words to use #no fr because what is so funny about feminine hygiene products #All the feminist who fought for women to have a better future rolling in their f*cking graves

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piplicious · 6 months

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i think pip looks britisher with straight hair

#cw f slur #pip pirrup #south park #sp pip #damien thorn #sp damien #me when im too lazy to put effort into drawing

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foursaints · 4 months

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anyways highschool au where they dissect frogs in class evan wordlessly scalpels out its heart first despite instructions and nudges it over to barty on a little glass plate IF YOU EVEN CARE

!! I CARE SM!!! this is the cutest hc and i’ve been brainrotting about this ask ever since you sent it like i genuinely am possessed..i feel sick

you’ve got me imagining this whole high school au with every cliché. pure twee teenage suburban melancholia where the rosier twins have a treehouse in their backyard and double-knot the laces of their converse and get the cuffs of their jeans soggy sitting in the wet grass on the football field and lily makes homecoming court and barty&regulus skip every school dance to eat mcdonald’s in formal wear and they sit under the bleachers w scraped knees and drop a lit cigarette between their forearms just to see who’ll pull away first

evan who was homeschooled and lives with his grandparents and only wears old baggy clothes from goodwill. he doesn’t talk much. people call him weird but he never eats lunch alone because he has a sister. pandora doesn’t mind being ostracized and puts unlit incense sticks in her buns and throws shoebox funerals for roadkill and squeezes her brothers hand under their homeroom desk

evan who doesn’t mind either but sometimes he imagines what having friends would be like. he writes down things he would say to them in his spiral bound notebooks instead of paying attention in calculus

barty who is self-explanatory. barty who is exactly what you’d expect. barty who sits next to evan in chemistry class with their knees knocking together under the desk. barty who draws tic-tac-toe on evan’s notebooks and always lets him win. who picks out the gory titles for him in blockbuster video and laughs at his jokes and who isn’t his friend, not exactly, but something close. barty his lab partner. barty who lets him borrow his jacket and who throws rocks at his window and who meets him in his treehouse in the middle of the night. LIKE!!!!!!!!

#a #autumn if u see this. it’s giving vanillar**** Evan makes friends and counts clouds and gets an F in chemistry class #i really want to draw something for this lol. i want to make a tag… i need more of your vision on this in like a iv drip #SORRY I REALLY WENT BONKERS I JUST. THEM #THE WAY YOU WERE SOOOOO RIGHT #t #rose & thorn

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aghostwrites · 7 months

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Look at your high lord

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*WARNINGS* Unprotected sex, NSFW, fingering, oral (male receiving), featuring semi-nice Tamlin, lewd Lucien, overstimulation, threesome, orgasm (male and female) OC character, she/her pronouns, mention of female genitals and male genitals.

paring: Tamlin x f!reader x Lucien

word count: 2k

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE

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Calanmai is fast approaching and the entire female staff of the Spring court is buzzing with excitement. Well, almost all. Alis has been monitoring the food preparations for the upcoming festivity, her temper is beginning to run high. Tamlin refuses to tell me what Calanmai means or what happens during the event but Lucien has been making more lewd comments towards Tamlin. Lucien seems to want me to attend this event whereas Tamlin is adamant about me staying in the house. Lucien and I are taking our usual ride in the forest, pretending to be hunting.

“Bunny, have you thought of what you’ll be wearing to Calanmai?” a grin spreads across Lucien’s face.

“Tamlin told me to stay out of the festivities” I tried to copy Tamlin’s tone of voice when he told me, “It isn’t the place for a human female.”

Lucien laughs at my attempt to mock the high lord. “That's because he knows what he will do if he catches your scent. I know what I would do to you if it were me performing Calanmai.”

Lucien and his cauldron damned remarks. Bastard.

He does make me wonder if maybe I should disobey Tamlin’s command. The females cannot stop their gossip about how exciting last year was.

I must admit, I’m interested.

⟴

I’ve picked up the habit of eavesdropping on the household staff and I’ve become pretty skilled. Their fae hearing seems to miss my careful footsteps these past couple of days. That or they don’t seem to care. I’ve learned my place among the high and lesser fae. As a human, they don’t care about things I could overhear. Odelia is my favorite staff member to eavesdrop on, she never quite knows when to keep her mouth closed and she is the most nosey as well, always wanting to know and share information.

“Who do you think Tamlin will choose this year for Calanmai? I must admit, I never knew what kind of lover he was until I saw him ravish Genesta last year. She was giggling like a youngling and wouldn’t shut up about it for ages”. The other ladies giggle.

What does she mean lover?

Divva gives Odelia a light smack on the shoulder, “You know Tamlin would never fuck you, stupid”.

Fuck her?

Odelia gives an obnoxious smile to Divva, “It doesn’t mean I can’t fantasize about it. Seeing him inhale that smoke” she purrs, “watching the animal that lies beneath his skin come to life, it's thrilling”.

I start to feel a little uncomfortable listening to these two. It seems too intimate to think about Tamlin this way. Of course, he is handsome, especially with that mask. I shouldn’t think of him as anyone else besides my captor, I shouldn’t. However, in my dreams I do. I dream of having his hands in my hair, his lips on my skin, body against mine. The worst part is, that I dream of what he would look like as I’m displayed underneath him.

“Are you alright? You smell… enticing”

I jump back a bit from my spying. “Lucien” I stammer “ what happens during Calanmai?”

“ Bunny” He chuckles. “I was wondering when you were going to ask me that.” He puts his arm around my waist, leading me away from my eavesdropping. My breath quickens as I feel the heat of his body against mine. “Calanmai or Fire Night is a magical celebration, the crops depend upon the magic in the Great Rite on Fire Night. Each High Lord must perform the Great Rite, which consists of allowing powerful magic to enter their bodies and seize control of them. Causing the High Lord to attempt to find the Maiden and claim her for the night to release magic that will spread through the lands and allow crops to grow until the next Calanmai. In this case, the high lord is Tamlin.” He smirks.

“Claims?” I ask.

“They have sex,” Lucien says flatly, my cheek burning red. “Maybe, my little bunny you should attend. After all, the spring court is your home and you should know of its traditions. I’ll take you as my guest” He finishes.

I can’t help but notice the way his eyes linger on my face. As his eyes make their way to my body, he licks his lips and smirks. I feel my insides turn and I don’t know if it's fear or excitement.

⟴

Calanmai has finally come, the palace grounds are bursting with high fae both male and female. I’ve never seen such beautifully dressed people, rich fabrics of all different colors flowing. Back home, these clothes would have been able to buy a mansion or two. Lucien told Alis that I was to attend Calanmai as his guest and that I must be dressed accordingly. I’m dressed in a velvet green skirt that has a slit on the side and a sheer white shirt that hugs my curves and accentuates my chest. Flowers are placed in my hair and it's a wonder how they don’t fall out as I walk. Lucien is standing outside my room waiting. He is dressed similarly to me, velvet green pants.

Oh cauldron, he’s not wearing a shirt

I forget how to breathe.

He is beautiful to look at, his red hair, his body perfectly toned and full of muscle. A warrior.

He doesn’t speak to me, only grabs my hand and gives me a smirk. The trip to the spring court grounds is overwhelming. Bonfires are lit, thick smoke hangs in the air, music, and dancing. High fae are laughing, kissing, and touching. I grab Lucien’s hand a little tighter as I notice four high fae pleasuring each other, three males and one female. I look away in embarrassment.

“Come on Bunny? Aren't you tempted to watch?” Lucien asks, he has an animalistic smile across his face like he is hungry. Like he is hunting.

I can’t form a coherent response.

Fuck, I might be.

I’m about to face the group of high fae when I see him.

“Tamlin?” I gasp, my voice so quiet only Lucien can hear.

Cauldron, he is beautiful. Completely bare for the mother above to see, a god. I can't help the heat that rises to my face as I try to look away. Lucien's hand grabs my face, making me turn my head, another hand holds me close to his body as he whispers. “Look, look at your high lord of the Spring court”.

Heat begins to rise elsewhere. I feel Lucien’s breath on the shell of my ear and it draws my attention back to the high fae before me.

Tamlin draws in a deep breath and lets out a loud sign. “I can smell her, bring her to me.”

Can he smell me?

Lucien begins to move in Tamlin’s direction, walking me forward, his hand on my waist. I would have turned around and gone back to the palace if it wasn’t for the way Tamlin is looking at me. The way Lucien is looking at me. Hungry. Lucien places me in front of Tamlin, his hands on my shoulders, holding me in place.

I have nowhere to go, nowhere to turn, everyone is watching.

The music seems to stop, the high fae now all have their eyes on Tamlin.

On me.

“Your high lord has chosen his maiden, it is time for the celebration to begin.”

At once the high fae begin to cheer, some kiss, and some of the female high fae give me glares of pure jealousy. Their attention finally begins to dwindle away, absorbed in their own lust once again.

Tamlin comes closer to me, his lips brushing my neck. I can’t help the small squeak that I make. “How would you like us? Rumor has it that human females like it rough, that they like to limp home, that they want to cry with pleasure.” He growls.

Us?

Lucien starts to caress my backside as he whispers “Or would you like us to be gentle?”

The two of them?

I want to back away and tell Tamlin to pick another. Lucien seems to sense my thoughts as he turns me around to face him.

“Little bunny, you’re not going anywhere”

He kisses me. Slow and deep, full of desire. His tongue teases my bottom lip. I can’t help but open my mouth to let his tongue in. My body betrays me, no matter how much I want to walk away, I can’t. Not with two perfect males before me. Their excitement showing.

Lucien is the distraction.

I nearly forget about Tamlin before I feel his hands cup the back of my thighs, he lets out a low groan.

“How does she taste?”

Lucien never leaves my lips, only lets out a low sigh of pleasure that makes Tamlin laugh, and my cheeks flush. Tamlin continues on my thighs, rubbing little circles, closer and closer to my pussy. Heat begins to spread through my body as he finds my clit. I arch my back and let out a small whimper. Low enough that no human could hear, but these are fae males and they hear everything.

“Fuck, she’s eager”

“And who do you think for, My Lord? You or me?”

“ Who do you want, Bunny?” Growels Tamlin.

Both, please let me have both.

I can only give a small nod that makes both the males smile. Their work begins.

Tamlin lets a claw slide from underneath his knuckles and shreds my clothes while Lucien begins to take his pants off. I can't look away from either of them. Both of their cocks are hard, dripping with anticipation.

Dripping for me.

Lucien moves first, his hands on my breasts, kissing my neck lower and lower until he puts my nipple in his mouth and sucks hard. I’ve never felt this pleasure before, I grip his hair and let out a small moan that makes Lucien smile against my chest.

Tamlin moves next, his fingers rubbing my clit before he slips them inside me. “Oh, fuck” Tamlin groans, “She’s tight.” He presses his fingers against a bundle of nerves, moving at a speed that I could never achieve, nor any mortal man. Tamlin places his lips on my neck, making my back arch more into him. Biting my neck, showing that I have been claimed for the night. He pulls his fingers out and I feel my walls close around the emptiness. Before I can tell Tamlin to keep going, that I want it, that I like it, he slips his cock in.

Fuck he’s big.

The feeling is surreal, Tamlin is able to reach everything, and he begins thrusting into me at a slow pace. It makes my head dizzy, I need him to move faster, to go harder. I must have done something to let Tamlin know what I want. Maybe it's the way I wiggle my body to try and get him to speed up.

“Bunny, are you impatient? I heard human females have needy cunts.” Lucien murmurs, still giving my breasts the attention they crave. Tamlin seems to understand Lucian's hidden message. He grips my hips pushing my chest forward. I need stability now that I’m bent over completely for Tamlin. I grasp around for anything before my hands land on Lucien. Tamlin quickens his pace until I see stars. I rock my hips to the rhythm. Cauldron he’s big, I’m completely stretched for him as he hits a spot deep inside, over and over relentlessly.

“Bunny?’ purrs Lucien “I want to see your pretty lips around my cock”

How can I say no?

Between the movements of Tamlin, I grip Lucien’s cock, wrapping my mouth around him, running my tongue up and down the length before drawing my mouth up and bringing it back down. “Oh cauldron” he moans as he begins thrusting his hips to meet my mouth.

I don’t know how much longer the three of us can last. Tamlin pounding into me mercilessly, Lucien’s hand in my hair, guiding my head up and down. It's just a matter of time before one of us breaks first…..

I felt the pressure begin to build which causes my legs to shake.

I have to take my mouth away from Lucien to catch a breath. “Tamlin I-I’m close, please don’t stop.”

“Never Bunny.” Tamlin purrs as I wrap my lips back around Lucien. Tamlin starts playing with my clit again, rubbing hard and fast circles that cause my muscles to tense. Then I break. My climax pulsing through my body as Tamlin continues to fuck me through the high.

I feel Lucien twitch in my mouth. “I think I’m going to,” he doesn’t finish his sentence before he releases himself into my mouth.

That leaves Tamlin left to break, his strokes start to get sloppy, and he lets out an animalistic groan. I feel claws gently rake my back. Finally, he lets go. Not letting any drop of his release be spilled as he thrusts his cock all the way deep into me a final time.

All of us drip with sweat, and both of the males give a chuckle.

“You did well, Bunny,” says Lucien as Tamlin kisses the back of my neck.

“Next year,” Tamlin says, “I’ll make sure everyone has their eyes on you while we claim you over and over again.” He nips my neck gently before saying. “Next Calanmai, you’ll be begging for us.”

#acotar #Tamlin #lucien vanserra #tamlin x reader #lucien x reader #smut #acotar smut #acotar series #oc character #female reader #a court of thorns and roses #Tamlin x f!reader x Lucien

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axailslink · 7 months

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BIG Dom eating it up Everytime

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techs-goggles9902 · 7 months

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Happy Thorn Thursday!

I love him so much I’m so sad he died the way he did!

@every-rose-has-one happy Thursday!

#star wars #commander thorn #corrie guard #coruscant guard #clone troopers #clone boys #rip thorn #happy Friday Eve!#no idea who to use for tomorrow 😭#so many f’s to choose from!#fives Friday?#Fi Friday?#fixer friday?#fireball Friday?#who knows

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landgraabbed · 9 days

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#p #ts2 #sims 2 #sav: bloom valley #y03aut #f: thorne

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assriels · 3 days

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take me to church

pairing: azriel x f!reader

summary: azriel was not a religious male, but you were his goddess incarnate and he would willingly worship at your feet until his dying breath

word count: 3.8k

warnings: smut (18+!! mdni pls), canon typical religious imagery, allusions to azriel’s work but nothing explicit

a/n: my hozier era has returned i fear

masterlist

banners by @/cafekitsune !

Azriel was not a particularly religious male, offering his acknowledgement to the Mother oftentimes in the heat of battle, on the brink of death as a curse on his lips, hoping someone somewhere would heed his plea to live another day. Whatever religious underpinnings existed within him were but remnants from ancient tradition, built into his body as steadily as his bones. But, aside from the rare moments he’d faced Death and lived, Azriel was not one to offer daily prayers of thanks.

Since meeting you decades ago however, Azriel had considered more and more changing his relative indifference to the celestial beings that reigned. He was sure he hadn’t done anything in his lifetime to deserve you as a lover — let alone a mate — but still the Mother blessed him, and for that he was more grateful than words or prayers could ever express.

Every brush of your lips against his skin, every tender gaze and soft smile was enough to bring Azriel to his knees every night before the altar between your legs. He sang praises and hymns until his jaw was sore, desperate to pull those seraphic moans from the depths of your throat as he worshiped you ceaselessly. He pledged his life to you the moment the bond snapped for him, never having been able to imagine an existence without you by his side.

Azriel had assumed that he was condemned to a life of desolation and loneliness, rotting with guilt and insecurity for all the things he had done and all the things he could never be. But despite the blood that perpetually stained his scarred hands and the weight of his past burdening his shoulders, you never shied away. Never so much as frowned when he confessed to you the serpentine nature of his hidden work for the Night Court or the calamity he’d endured as a young, lost child.

You had sat and listened all those years ago, delicate fingers tracing the calluses on his palm as if the lines on his hands whispered all of the things he left unsaid. You’d understood the complexities of his character, loved them as much as you loved every other part of him.

You made your unwavering affection for him known at every possible opportunity, often massaging away the crease between his brows when you knew he was losing himself to the spiral of his unwanted thoughts. You’d kiss his forehead and run your fingers through his hair, silent but understanding as you allowed him time to open himself up to you in whatever manner he pleased.

Azriel’s adoration of you was no different. He cherished the way you confided in him, revealing to him the depths of your own darkness and fears. He would safeguard your trust with his dying breath, always and forever striving to be your safe space, a lockbox where you could store your darkest thoughts and insecurities without fear of judgment.

Just as you had always done for him. Just as you were doing now.

In the comfort of your shared bedroom in your private residence, you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, rolling on to your toes to kiss the back of his neck while he undid the intricate laces and buckles of his leathers. Your deft fingers soon joined his in the process as you both worked in comfortable silence to unfasten the tediously complex web of clasps.

The tension in his shoulders and the microscopic ruffle in his brow was all you needed to conclude that his latest task was a gruesome one. One of those missions that tended to stick around, following him and taunting him until his guilt festered and spread.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, voice steady as you removed the last of his Siphons secured tightly around his bicep. It was an effort not to gawk at his exquisite physique that lay hidden beneath the constricting leathers; no matter how many times you’d seen Azriel shirtless, you didn’t think you’d ever get used to the sight.

He hummed in response, taking a moment to survey his torso in the mirror for any cuts or bruises that needed tending to. When he didn’t spot any — most of them had quickly stitched themselves together on the flight back home — he met your gaze in the mirror and shook his head gently, “Not really.”

Azriel was somewhat avoidant by nature, too used to minimizing his feelings in lieu of the success of a mission, but the gentle definitiveness in his tone told you all you needed to know. He’d open up about this latest operation when he was ready, but he needed time to process and think, formulate coherent thoughts about what had transpired. And as much as you wanted to soothe the emotional aches and pains you knew plagued him after every mission, you would give him that time.

You sighed and came to stand in front of him, taking both his cheeks in your hands as you forced his gaze to yours. It took everything in him not to lose himself in those pretty eyes of yours.

Azriel could sense the worry you habitually hid in the moments after he returned home, and so he leaned into your touch, turning to kiss the heart of your palm before offering you reassurances, “I’m okay. Promise.”

Azriel held his pinky out cutely and you chuckled, shaking your head fondly before wrapping your own around his. You used your joined hands as leverage to pull him down to slot your lips over his. Azriel sighed contentedly at the pressure of your kiss, his long lashes fluttering shut as his hands repositioned themselves around your body.

One hand splayed steadily on the cage of your ribs as the other made the devious trek down, grabbing a handful of your ass to squeeze playfully.

You yelped and pulled away as he smirked at you fondly. His gaze traveled over your shoulder to look in the mirror, never tiring of how the curves of your body looked pressed against his.

The two of you stayed like that for a long while, Azriel’s chin hooked over your head as your arms wound themselves comfortably around his waist. The cadence of his heartbeat was one you were well acquainted with, like a steady metronome that measured itself to the beat of your own heart.

When he pressed his lips to the crown of your head, you murmured, “Want to take a bath?”

You felt the near imperceptible quickening of his pulse against your ear and you pressed yourself further into his chest, reveling in the way he so instinctively reacted to every little thing you did.

“Only if you join me,” he responded cheekily, corners of his lips twitching in affectionate jest.

You hummed and pretended to think about it, shifting to rest your chin against his heart, pretty lashes fluttering as you looked up at him.

“I could be convinced.”

Gods, how beautiful you looked. How beautiful you always looked. Your charming allure caught Azriel off guard every single time you merely breathed in his direction, and he briefly wondered if he’d ever get used to the ease in which you enchanted him without even meaning to.

Unable to resist, his hands came up to cradle your jaw, supporting your neck as he bent down to kiss you, his nose brushing affectionately against yours as he pulled away.

“I’ll carry you,” he offered, lips brushing your skin, hazel eyes never once leaving yours.

“Deal,” you said, laughing delightedly when he lifted you, throwing you playfully over his shoulder to make a beeline to the bathroom.

Running a bath — a normally automatic part of Azriel’s routine — was made infinitely harder when he was so busy pressing his lips to your jaw, your cheeks, your mouth. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him tonight — maybe it was the adrenaline from a hard task completed, the warmth of home coaxing him to let go and savor you — but he wasn’t complaining. And neither were you, if the way you matched his fervor was anything to go by.

When both of you finally settled into the warm water, he sighed in contentment, lazily, adoringly watching as the tension eased out of your shoulders.

Before you came into his life, Azriel had never really understood the desire to worship. He knew logically that it was an act of devotion, but never did he really feel the inclination to pray to a god in thanks.

But it was moments like these — the wonderfully mundane moments of bliss with you — that finally made him understand. If the Mother was anything like you, it wasn’t difficult for Azriel to fathom a devotee’s need to pray.

He thought this as he ran his soapy hands gingerly over your body, as he buried his fingers in your hair to massage your scalp. If you were his goddess, then these were his acts of reverence and he would practice until his physical body no longer could.

And when you did the same for him, when you gently scrubbed his back and wings and arms and chest with the deliberation and gentility of an artist with a craft, he thought that maybe this gratification was what the gods felt when their followers prayed.

After a while, once the soap had run down the drain and the water was warm and clear again, you settled against him with your back pressed to his chest.

It was in that moment he realized the arousal that had slowly eked its way into his bloodstream; he had been too busy basking in the feel of your fingertips on his aching muscles to realize that your lovingly innocent touch had made him hard. Embarrassingly so.

“Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly, his attention now on the way his cock pressed so tightly against your lower back.

Your laugh — melodic and lovely — curled around his ears in a lover’s embrace, “Don’t be sorry. I’m irresistible, I know.”

He knew you’d meant to tease, but he couldn’t help but agree; if he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that you’d casted a spell on him to ensnare his unyielding devotion to you. Your head fell back onto his shoulder and you captured his chin in your fingers to tilt his lips towards yours.

This kiss, unlike the ones you two had shared earlier in the night, was much more insistent, revving your desire with each stroke of his tongue.

His hands remained frustratingly chaste on the curve of your waist, and you squirmed in his embrace, willing him to touch you. The pressure of him against your back and the feel of his mouth — now leaving a scathing trail of little bites down your neck — pressed to your skin left the space between your legs slick with a wetness unattributable to the warm bath water.

Your hand settled over his and for a brief moment your mind flickered to appreciation of the ridges raised by the scars that wound themselves like vines up his fingers to his wrists. Azriel had always been somewhat self conscious of the puckered skin of his hands, but you stood firm in the belief that they only served to make him that much more wonderful.

(And you couldn’t deny the pleasurable sensation they added when his fingers were buried inside you. But that was neither here nor there.)

You guided his touch as he reared back up to kiss you again. You led one of his hands down between your legs and the other to your chest, where he eagerly played with the peak of your nipples.

“Oh?” he intoned, amusement coloring his inquiry at the feel of how wet he now realized you were.

“Sorry,” you muttered, mimicking his earlier apology with much less sheepishness.

“Don’t be sorry,” he mimed back to you. His hands fell into a practiced rhythm, circling your clit with delicious pressure.

You arched into his touch, moans falling from your lips as he teased your entrance before he mercifully sank a single digit into you. The stretch was a welcome feeling, but it quickly dissolved into the need for more. But it seemed that Azriel was in no hurry, languidly alternating between lazy strokes and nonchalant circles.

You arched again, silently pleading with him to give you more as you gripped his knee beneath the now tepid water. Though the heat of your body alone was probably enough to re-warm the bath.

Azriel indulged you, unable to resist your alluring pull. He added another finger to his ministrations, blissfully dizzy with the sounds falling from your lips. His other hand snaked from your nipples down between your legs, timing his well placed caresses of your clit to the unrelenting plunge of his fingers.

He knew you were close — so quick, he thought with a lethal satisfaction — by the octave of your moans and the desperate way your hands fought for purchase on his legs, your breasts.

He bit down on that wonderfully tender spot at the junction between your shoulder and neck, and shivered when he felt you clench around his fingers, walls pulsing temptingly around his fingers as you came.

Azriel captured your lips with his own once more, prolonging the pleasure from your release for as long as possible. You shifted to straddle him, never once breaking the kiss as the water sloshed dangerously close to the lip of the tub.

The way you ground your hips down onto his had him groaning, eyebrows furrowing with the effort to restrain himself. He could take you now, could give in to your attempts to guide him inside you, but you were shivering, goosebumps raising the skin on your back and shoulders as the chilled water and even chillier night air caressed your form.

Besides, his mind was working in overdrive, crafting plan after plan to have you keening and arching for him, all of which required a more comfortable setting than the marble bathtub in your bathroom.

He stood with ease, looping your legs around his midsection to carry you back to the bed.

He tossed you softly — though quite unceremoniously — onto the bed, and you would have complained about getting the sheets wet, but 1) you knew Azriel would make an obscene joke about how they’d get wet anyway and 2) the feel of his cock grinding against your clit was enough to rob your consciousness of any coherent thought.

Azriel was murmuring sweet endearments into your damp skin as he made the excruciatingly slow trek down your body, his lips mapping a tedious trail of kisses down your torso as if he were committing each ridge and valley to memory in fear that he’d lose his way on the journey back.

Finally, finally his mouth found that wonderfully sweet spot between your legs and he licked a broad stripe up the length of you. You shivered as he lingered, tongue lazily alternating between teasingly shallow strokes inside you to wide circles around your clit.

It was torture of the purest kind that he wasn’t giving you exactly what he knew you wanted, and by the wicked glint in his darkened hazel eyes, you could tell he was being intentional. Your fingers found their home in the impossibly silky and slightly damp strands of his hair as you attempted to pull his mouth tighter against you, petulant pout curving your lips downward.

His responding chuckle was enough to make you groan, the reverberation vibrating against your cunt before settling tantalizingly in your bones. Azriel’s arms came up to encircle your legs, effectively keeping you from grinding your hips up. You tossed your head back and keened, giving in to the languidness of his affections.

Your eyes met his at the sound of a purposely lewd smack of his lips against you, and you felt him smirk against you before you were swiftly flipped over.

“Azriel!”

What was meant to be a gasp of surprise quickly devolved into a moan of pleasure by the time the last syllable of his name left your lips. You were acutely aware of the sudden switch in positions as you were now straddling your mate’s head.

He coaxed your gaze down to his with a featherlight touch down your spine, and you were met with a swirling mix of love, lust, and adoration swimming in pools of hazel. Your chest swelled momentarily and you probably would’ve said something sweet and much more coherent than what left your mouth as he pulled you down onto him and feasted.

Azriel was addicted to the way he could make you fall apart, even from beneath you with your knees straddling his head. It was borderline sinful – an angel brought to the precipice of obscenity and seduction.

His hips shifted on the bed, body desperate to find friction. But this moment was yours, and so Azriel refrained from giving in to his baser physical desires. His tongue sang praises against your cunt, his hymns translated to the exquisite moans that fell from your lips.

It wasn’t long before you were toppling over that wonderful edge into what felt like a never ending orgasm. You could barely register the change in your positions again, head spinning and dizzy with insurmountable pleasure; before you knew it, your back was pressed against the cool sheets of the bed, eyes glassy with a post-orgasm haze.

Azriel leaned down to kiss you then, a sweet contrast to the near indecent way you could taste yourself lingering on his lips. He took his time kissing you, sending you wave after wave of undying love and loyalty down that invisible golden tether wound tight around your heart.

You briefly thought of returning the favor, of flipping him onto his back and putting your mouth on him in just the way you knew would coax those wonderfully rare sounds of unbridled, wanton pleasure from him. But his body was heavy against yours – a more than welcome comfort – and you couldn’t find the strength in you to pull away from the warmth of his skin.

You arched into him as you wound your arms around his neck, pulling him closer while you encircled your legs around his waist. Relishing in the way he shuddered against you, you urged your hips up to grind against his, aching for the feel of him despite having just orgasmed. Twice.

Thankfully he obliged you, shifting to ease himself inside you, slowly – gods, so slowly – pushing into you with the deliberation and practiced self-discipline of a male centuries trained in espionage.

Azriel let out a half-restrained groan when his hips were flush against yours, always marveling at how close you could make him without even lifting a finger. He had meant to take a few moments to collect himself, not wanting to ruin the moment with a quick release (though admittedly he was struggling), but you shifted beneath him impatiently as you whispered salacious pleas into the shell of his ear.

The drag of his cock in and out of you was a pleasure you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to, and you couldn’t help the prurient sounds that tumbled from your lips. Though, this just seemed to urge Azriel faster, more insistent in the most delicious way.

You knew he was close by the way his breath hitched in his throat and his fingers tightened around the flesh of your thigh. The feel of his abs flexing as he pushed his hips into yours and the perfectly timed grind of his hips against your clit filled your head with a heady, hazy bliss and you nearly forgot where you were for a moment.

You wound your fingers into his hair to steady him as you bit kisses into his jaw, nails raking a gentle path of encouragement down his back.

“Come for me, Az,” you half-pleaded, half-commanded.

And he did. With a gasp and moan so beautiful it sent you into another spiral of pleasure, arching into him as he whispered incoherent praises into your neck.

As you basked in the aftermath, chest heaving and legs tangled beneath your fluffy duvet, Azriel couldn’t help but feel a lightening in his chest. He once again thought of how he had been shown so much mercy, so much kindness by the Mother, the gods – who or whatever governed the celestial plane of existence – to be bound so graciously to you. He never ceased to be amazed that he had met his goddess incarnate and had the overwhelming honor of loving her.

With your cheek resting above his heart, he didn’t doubt that you could hear the quickening of his pulse when he pressed his lips to your hair. “I love you.”

Those three words were his prayer, his penance, his praise, and he would never stop offering them to you so long as you allowed him the privilege of saying them. He could feel you smile as you kissed his collarbone, sleepily offering your benediction in return, “Love you.”

As you fell asleep, encased in the warmth and safety of his arms, he idly traced the lines of your mating tattoo, swirling tendrils of ink dancing up your hip to your waist. He always loved how they were so reminiscent of his shadows. The shadows that were now winding through your hair and tickling your cheeks in adoration.

As he too began slipping into the sweet relief of slumber, he briefly thought of his mission – it had felt so far away, so long ago now that he was guarded within the shield of your presence – and the guilt and sorrow he’d feel in the coming days. He used to dread the aftermath of his work, never allowing himself to rest comfortably for fear that sleep would be too much of an undeserved reprieve for the atrocities he’d committed.

But ever since he selfishly allowed himself to love and be loved by you, he had found solace in your embrace. You couldn’t offer absolution of his sins – if such a thing even existed – but he was certain you were his salvation. An offering from the Cauldron – that he was convinced he was wholly unworthy of – as a chance to right his wrongs. You listened and loved him and saw him for all of the parts he was ashamed of, and for that he would willingly spend the rest of his life striving to deserve.

(Though he was sure you’d frown at him and adamantly insist that he need not do anything but exist to deserve the love you gave him.)

As he let himself descend into the comforting darkness of sleep, Azriel thought that if he would be punished in his next life for the sins he committed in this one, as long as he’d be able to love you through it all it would be worth it.

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shadowdaddies · 7 months

Note

Could you do the classic (in my opinion lol) “if I catch you, I fuck you scenario” with Rhys in Hewn city? I just know this man would have the time of his life teasing and chasing you through the halls.

it’s a classic for a reason 😎 I like the idea of doing this with Rhys bc he would make it interesting with his daemati abilities. This was fun to write, thank you anon

Hide and Seek

Rhys x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, predator/prey, light bondage, rough sex, minors dni or I'll send Bryaxis to live under your bed

You took a deep breath to try to settle your nerves as you set off down the avenue. You and Rhys had a bet: he gave you a ten minute head start once you arrived in Hewn City, and then he had ten minutes to find you. If Rhys found you within the ten minutes, he’d fuck you wherever he found you.

You were running through the dark walkways as you scanned for any place to hide. With the silver bobbing faelights reflecting against the dark stone of the mountain, it was proving difficult to find a place in the open that you wouldn’t be easily seen. You snuck into the castle, pausing for a moment at the doors to the throne room. No, that would be too obvious. You continued on, becoming breathless and disoriented as you took in the dark artworks of beasts surrounding you. You stopped at the intersection of two hallways, trying to determine if the statue of the great, scaled black beast would be an adequate hiding spot. You turned around; which direction had you just come from?

“Darling, your ten minutes are up. The hunt begins now,” Rhys’s voice purred in your mind. You panicked, questioning everything as you ran down the nearest hallway. What were you thinking, going into his own castle to hide from him? You opened the first set of doors you found, and quietly slipped into the room. You immediately realized you were in the council chambers. With the exception of the same beastly pillars from the castle halls and the large blacked-out glass table in the center of the room, there was no place to hide. Rhys’s voiced again echoed in your mind, “I can scent you, my love. Have you been lurking around our castle?”

There was no option to go back into the hallways now, where Rhys would surely find you. You decided your best bet would be to hide under the table, where your reflection was at least hidden, and wait him out. “Not in the throne room, I see. What a shame, you do know how I love to take you on the dais,” Rhys taunted as he flashed memories in your mind of him fucking you on the floor, over the throne, against the pillars; you watching your reflection in the obsidian walls of the room. A shiver made its way up your spine as you were overcome with a wave of arousal.

You heard slow, measured footsteps nearing the doors of the chambers, too close for your liking. Before you could devise an escape plan, however, the room went black. You suddenly felt like you were floating, suspended among the stars. You basked in the peacefulness of the sensation for a moment, until you felt hands grab around your ankles and pull. You screamed as your surroundings came back into focus. You were back on the floor of the council chambers, Rhys on his hands and knees above you, caging you in as he gave you a feline smirk of amusement. “Five minutes and twelve seconds, darling,” he said as he leaned down to kiss you.

The kiss was surprisingly gentle, Rhys slowly massaging your tongue with his own as he poured love down the bond to you. You moaned and arched into his touch, causing a smile to form on his lips. He sat up, pulling you with him by your waist as he stood in front of the table and sat you down atop it. He stepped back to assess you, a predator sizing up his captured prey. You squirmed under his powerful stare, anticipation building in your core at what was to come.

With a flourish of his hand, you were completely bare before him, to cold air of the room causing you to shiver, and you felt your warm arousal seep onto the table between your legs. Rhys noticed it too, locking in on your center with a feral intensity. He swallowed, licking his lips as he removed the belt from his pants. “Your wrists, darling,” Rhys purred at you, nodding his head towards your hands that were resting against the table. You lifted them up together for him, knowing what was coming next. He wrapped his belt around your wrists, securing them snugly together before lifting them above your head. “Keep these up here while I enjoy my reward, love,” he whispered as his eyes roved over your exposed body once more.

He laid you back against the table, pulling you forward to where your legs were hanging over the edge. Rhys ran his hands in teasing circles up your legs, getting close to your center before dragging them away and further up your body, earning a frustrated huff from you. He chuckled, enjoying your obvious need for him. He continued roaming over your body with his fingertips, pausing to flick each of your nipples harshly as you moaned, desperate for more of his touch. Rhys continued to admire your body, kissing and sucking to leave marks all over your torso. You were writhing underneath him, dripping all over the table when you snapped, “gods, please just fuck me Rhys!”

Rhys promptly stood up, arching an eyebrow at you with an expression of pure amusement. “Impatient, are we love? The fifteen minutes it took me to get to you was too much?” he cooed with fake sympathy as he towered over your form. “I won’t be gentle, darling,” he said, looking in your eyes as one hand idly stroked your hip. You found yourself feeling overheated despite the frigid temperature in the room, begging, “I don’t want gentle. I need you now, Rhys.”

“Well, who am I to deny my High Lady of her requests?” Rhys hummed as his clothes disappeared. He wasted no time lining himself up at your entrance. “Fuck, you’re dripping for me,” he growled, swiping his free hand under his length to swipe your excess arousal from the table and sucking it into his mouth. He moaned at the taste of you, and something snapped inside of him. He moved both of his hands to your hips and pushed himself fully into you, immediately starting to pound at a relentless pace. The sounds of your collective moans and skin against skin echoed through the stone of the castle. “Fuck, harder Rhys,” you whined, wanting to have him as deep inside of you as possible. Wanting to be consumed by him. He grunted, flipping you over on your stomach so you were bent over the table, his hand wrapping your hair around one fist while he brought the other down to rub your clit. You reached your orgasm almost immediately as you screamed his name, clenching around his cock as he continued pounding into you.

After a few moments, Rhys ground out that he was close to finishing. You felt him twitch inside of you just as the glass table cracked beneath you and split in two. Rhys quickly hauled you up by your chest before you could fall, slipping out of you as his release spilled over your back. You both stood in silent shock for a moment before you turned to look at Rhys, and both of you burst out laughing.

Running a hand through his hair and chuckling, Rhys consoled, “well, that table was older than I am. I guess it’s time we redecorated.” You gave him a mischievous smile as you leaned up to kiss his cheek and said, “maybe something more sturdy to fuck on next time.”

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