#tog gif | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

verperina · 3 months

Text

It Was Just For One Night

Pairing: Dorian Havilliard x f!reader

Summary: What was only supposed to be a one-time thing turns into a two-time thing.

Warnings: 18+ smut

Word Count: 5,662

Authors Note: This is my first time writing in a while and my first time writing for Throne of Glass/SJM’s work. I’ve never published anything on here before, so please don’t be too harsh. I hate the dialogue and the smut, but oh well. Massive credit to @autumnshighlady for helping me with the smut and for being so kind.

You feel the faint touch of a phantom hand ghost along the skin of your bare back, leaving goosebumps. You suppress a shudder. You could feel a pair of eyes burning into the side of your face, making your heart beat faster. You raised the glass of red wine to your lips and swallowed a mouthful down, trying to appear calm with your father standing beside you, conversing with another lord. They were talking about something that you had no interest in or care enough to act like you were listening to them.

His eyes were on you. Watching you. Always watching you. You finally let your eyes meet the king’s gaze and they were filled with pure hunger and desire. His sapphire eyes slowly trailed the entire length of your body, taking in the dark navy satin dress that had been gifted to you this morning. You weren’t even aware who had gifted you the dress, but it was obvious now. From the way his lips twitched and the hunger in his eyes became more and more apparent.

It had only been a month since you and Dorian had slept together. A drunken fueled haze that had been filled with pure carnal desire. It was a one-time thing. You knew it would never happen again, but it didn’t mean that you would if it did. He had been a very generous and a very passionate lover. Making sure that you had found release, multiple times, before finding his own. When he finished, he asked if you were okay, dressed himself and left your chambers and that was it. You weren’t expecting anything after. It would be foolish to think so.

You were surprised that the king had chosen you of all people to bed. You had heard that when Dorian was still the prince he was a harlot, so surely it wouldn’t be hard for him to find someone more appealing since he’s the King of Adarlan.

After that night there were times when both of you would be in the same room and you would make yourself never look in his direction, or he would talk to your father about diplomatic matters and rather quickly, you would excuse yourself. You didn’t want anyone to find out. You could only imagine the scandal it would cause.

An older man was talking to Dorian, and the king nodded his head, pretending that he was listening. His crown gleaming in the light, rings decorating his long fingers, dressed exquistely, and seated on his throne full of pride. He was beautiful and he knew it too.

You forced yourself to divert your gaze, focusing instead on the people dancing to the music and the decorations that adorned the room for the Yulemas ball. But you felt it again. That phantom touch. And this time, it wasn’t faint. It felt more apparent. More forceful.

The touch stroked the length of your spine before landing on the curve of your backside, trailing downwards until it reached the back of your thigh, and gave a soft squeeze. You purse your lips as your hand clenches the stem of the wine glass, face warming, and you quickly glance at your father and the other lord, making sure they weren’t paying attention to what was happening, before looking back toward Dorian to see his eyes were still on you. He wasn’t even trying to hide the smug look on his face.

Arrogant prick. You couldn’t believe he was choosing to do this in a room full of people. Especially with your father right next to you. You shot a subtle look at Dorian, but it only seemed to amuse him. He cocked his head to the side, a mocking gesture, daring you to do something. The tension was starting to become too much.

You swallowed.

“I’m going out to the garden for some air,” you said quietly to your father. He waved his hand in dismissal and continued his conversation with the man. You placed your glass down on the nearest table and began weaving your way through the crowds of people, careful to not get anyone’s wine on your dress. You could feel Dorian’s gaze burning through the back of your head, following your every movement.

When you walked outside you inhaled the air, welcoming it into your lungs and letting the cold breeze cool your flushed body. Everything had felt too warm and crowded inside that room. Too overwhelming.

Snow fell from the sky, landing on the ground and kissing it a beautiful white. A few snowflakes landed in your hair. The wind was lightly blowing, making your skin prickle. You pulled a single rose from a bush, careful to not cut your fingers on any of the thorns. The rose was a deep, luscious shade of red with soft petals. You lifted the flower to your nose and inhaled its sweet and floral scent. There was a soft crunch in the snow behind you. Footsteps. You didn’t have to turn around to know who they belonged to.

“That is a very beautiful dress,” Dorian said, his voice smooth. You turned your head to the side and met his gaze. Pure mirth in his stare. His raven black hair shining in the moonlight. “You look rather flustered.”

You kept your face blank, feeling a small hint of annoyance starting to bubble up inside of you. “Are you mad?”

Dorian quirked an eyebrow. “No, ‘Your Majesty’?”

A roll your eyes. “Are you mad, Your Majesty?”

He grinned. “Ask me tomorrow.”

"My father was right there,” you huffed. “He could have seen. Anyone could have seen.”

“Yes, but no one did.”

“I’m not an exhibsionist.”

“I apologize, my lady.” He gave a mocking bow.

“Is this a game to you?” You ask, turning to face him fully.

His brows slightly furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You had your fun. We both did,” you explained. “It was a one-time thing, so why did you give me this dress and why did you do that in there?”

He was quiet for a moment, studying you, and then asked, “What if I want it to become a two-time thing?”

“Why? What’s in it for you?” You say cautiously. Surely he wasn’t serious.

“I get to enjoy your presence once more,” he answered. “I rather enjoyed myself the last time.”

You try to hide your surprise, but he caught it. You kept your eyes on him, furrowing your eyebrows, and wondered why he wanted to sleep together again, with you, when he could have anyone else. You weren’t completely turned-off to the idea. It would be a lie to say that you hadn’t thought about it.

In the dead of night, you would let your fingers slip inside your wet cunt and fantasize about his hands wrapping around your throat, his teeth tugging on your nipple, and his cock thrusting inside of you. The sound of his groans and your moans, both of your bodies slick with sweat. You felt a flutter low in your stomach. Your throat bobbed.

“We could enjoy each other’s company once more.”

“What if someone finds out?” You cross your arms across your chest. “It would make things difficult for you, but mainly for me.”

“The guards wouldn’t say anything,” he reassured.

You raised an eyebrow. “Surely the presence of your absence has been noted.”

“I announced that I was retiring for the night and told everyone to continue partying.”

“What if someone sees?”

“Everyone is too busy drinking and dancing,” he paused for a moment, looking you up and down, noticing that your body was stiff. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Do you not want to? If not, then it’s fine, I don’t mean to place pressure on you.”

You could tell that Dorian’s words were genuine. His face was soft and patient, waiting for you to respond. “I want to,” I admitted. His eyes became bright at your words. “I just don’t want to complicate things.” He waited for you to continue. “You’re the King of Adarlan; I don’t think people would be pleased to know that you’ve bedded me. I would probably be seen as a woman who tempted the king for money and power, as a whore.”

“It's no one's business what I do, or what you do. I am the king. My guards know to keep their mouths shut, especially the ones that are stationed outside my chambers. If anyone does find out, you can come to me and I’ll deal with it.”

You thought about it for a moment, weighing your options, and glanced around the garden to see that it was still empty. You met his gaze once more and nodded. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?” He asked. His voice came out low, taking a step closer to you.

“Yes.” You licked your lips, and his eyes trailed the movement. You took a step forward, glancing at his lips, tilting your head upwards and parting your lips slightly, giving him permission to kiss you. His hand came to cup your face, his thumb lightly stroking the side of your cheek while his other hand settled on your hip, giving it a hard squeeze.

Your bodies were pressed against each other, and it was then that you could feel the hardness of his cock through his trousers. You leaned your head forward, feeling his breathe as your lips were about to connect-

You jerked back as you let out a low hiss of pain as one of the thorns sliced into the tip of your index finger. A bead of blood pooled at the cut, making your skin sting. Dorian plucked the flower from your hand and brought your finger close to his face, his eyes inspecting the small cut and then he looked at you, a sly look on his face.

“You need to be more careful, dove.” He brought your finger to his lips, pressing light kisses onto the skin slowly, as if savoring the taste of the salt on your skin mixed with your blood. His tongue replaced his lips, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your breath hitched and you could feel wetness start to pool in between your thighs. His teeth harshly nipped at the skin, making a small noise escape your throat. “Dorian,” you moaned quietly. “Please.” Your toes curled. He tossed the rose on the ground, releasing your finger, and brought your lips to his.

His lips were cold but soft, and you ran my hands through his thick hair, your nails lightly scraping his scalp. You swallowed the groan that left his mouth. His hands are roughly squeezing your backside, pushing you closer to him. He tugged your bottom lip between his teeth as you pressed your thighs together to try and relieve some of the aching tension.

“Not here,” you breathed.

He nodded and grabbed your hand, walking both of you out of the garden and through a door that had no one near it, and led the two of you back inside the castle. You had to walk fast to keep up with the strides of his long legs. The halls that he led you through were thankfully empty, not even guards were positioned in the hallway, it looked like any rarely came through this way. He squeezed your hand and brushed his thumb across your knuckles.

The hall to where his chambers came into view and the guards stationed outside didn’t so much as flinch as Dorian neared the door. They only gave a respectful bow to their king, averting their eyes, and pretended to not notice that his hand was interlaced with yours, or that his lips were swollen, and the tanned skin of his cheeks were flushed.

He pushed open the door and led you through his room, quickly closing the door. You stopped in the middle of the room and noticed it was rather untidy; books were open and lying on his desk and the table by the sofa, his bed was unmade, and a few of his clothes were on the floor. But it smelled like him. So much like Dorian.

Your back was facing Dorian, his footsteps sounding closer, the sound of his crown being placed gently on a table, and then he was right behind you. His front pressed against your back, the warmth of his body seeping into you. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before grabbing your chin, making you meet his gaze, sapphire eyes were blazing. His forehead rested against yours. “I need to hear you say it.”

Your breathing was growing heavier.

“Yes. Please.”

His hand released your chin, moving your head back to its original position and his free hand came to rest on your hip. His hand then wrapped around your throat, squeezing softly, and tilted your head back. Dorian’s lips were brushing the shell of your ear before his teeth tugged on the lobe of your ear, biting gently.

The hand on your waist moved until it was settled right above your pelvis, pushing you back so you could feel his cock. You slightly shifted your hips, grinding your ass on his hardened length, and you were pleased when a low groan left him.

He left a trail of rough kisses down the column of your throat, teeth occasionally nipping and harshly sucking on the flesh, marking you as his. Quiet moans escaping your lips as you let your body lean more into him.

The thin strap of your dress fell down your shoulder, exposing your collarbone. Phantom hands came to cup your breasts through the flimsy material of your dress, squeezing before pinching your peaked nipples, hard.

A hiss left you, arching your back away from his body, but his hand pushed you back against him and held you tightly, and grabbed your face again, placing his lips on yours. The tip of your tongue meeting his own. Heat bloomed in your core. He bit your bottom lip as he removed the dress from your body and let it fall to the floor. You turned around, arms snaking around his neck and pulling at the thick strand of his hair.

Both of his hands grabbed yours as he pulled his lips away from yours, breathing heavily, and guiding you toward his large bed. His cheeks were a flushed red and his once neat hair was messy from you dragging your fingers through it.

You climbed onto the bed and sat up on your knees, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and kissed him again. His hand came to cup the side of your ass, his blunt fingernails lightly scratching before a harsh smack came down, the sound echoing throughout the room.

Your body jolted forward and you let out a loud, breathy moan. You felt yourself becoming more aroused.

“You like how that feels?” Dorian asked. Another harsh smack came down, on the opposite side this time, when you didn’t answer. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” you groaned, head tipping back in pleasure.

“I’m going to take good care of you.” The words sounded like a promise.

You tugged off his jacket and let it drop to the floor. You took off his tunic next, revealing the pale line on his tan skin from where the collar had been, and strong, firm muscle. Your hand came to cup his cock through his black trousers. Dorian hissed, eyebrows slightly creasing together in pleasure. You press light kisses on the pale part of his neck, sucking harshly, leaving love bites of your own and running your tongue over the bruised flesh.

He grabbed you by the neck, putting his lips back on yours. His kiss was deliberately slow. Teasing. Savoring the taste of the red wine on your lips. His fingers are pulling at the hair at the nape of your neck. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, wanting to feel the hardness of his length against your stomach. Fingertips pressing into the curve of your neck as his tongue sweeps over your mouth.

You moan into the kiss, feeling his phantom hands squeezing your ass, tracing the band of your underwear. His fingertips brush over your nipples. They’re cold with his ice magic. You shiver and his mouth curves in delight. The tip of Dorian’s nail grazes the hardened bud before he bends down and takes your nipple in his mouth. Your underwear is sticky with your arousal.

He keeps his eyes on you, watching how your head tips back, how your lips part as you begin moaning breathily. He rolls your other nipple between his thumb and index finger, leaving goosebumps on your skin from the coldness of his flesh. He sucks roughly, moaning around the bud as you pull at his hair, and then he tugs at your nipple with his teeth. His tongue laps over it before he begins sucking again.

“Feels so good,” you mumble, trying to catch your breath. You can feel him grin in satisfaction.

Dorian releases the abused flesh and he starts repeating the same motions on the other nipple, but this time it’s harsher, more animalistic. His hand starts trailing down your stomach and then cups your clothed cunt. A chuckle leaves his lips at what he found. “You’re so wet.”

He dips his hand in your underwear and runs a finger through your folds. You start to slowly move your hips, rubbing your clit on the heel of his palm to relieve the aching tension. “Stay still,” he warns, “or I’ll stop.” You groan in frustration, but comply, hesitantly. He circles the entrance to your hole, gathering the wetness that had pooled there, and then slips a finger inside of you.

Your back arches the same time as you let out a choked moan. You clench around him, fighting the urge to rub your clit against his palm. Painfully slow, in a teasing manner, he thrusts his finger in and out. He takes his time in stretching you out. Your voice is husky as you say, “Kiss me.” You open your eyes to see that he’s already looking at you. Pure desire in his gaze.

“Kiss me,” you repeat again. He obliges. There’s nothing gentle or soft about the kiss. It’s messy and fast and rough. Your teeth are clashing against each other, desperate to taste each other. Your breaths are labored, trying to breathe in more air.

He enters a second finger and when you gasp, he shoves his tongue inside your mouth. You dig your nails into the meat of his shoulders before brushing your thumbs over his nipples.

“Since that night I’ve thought of doing this again,” Dorian admitted. “I fucked myself to the thought of you. Imagining it was you stroking my cock.”

His words made you clench around his fingers. You could picture it. His eyes closed, head leaning back against the pillows, and his hand gripping his cock, squeezing hard. His groans coming out hoarsely, loudly. There was a sense of triumph in knowing that you had made the King of Adarlan fantasize about you. It was satisfying.

“So have I,” you also admitted.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

You swallowed. “I shoved my fingers inside my cunt and wished that it was yours instead. I thought of your tongue on my cunt, of your hand around my throat and your cock inside me.”

Dorian’s fingers thrust faster the same time phantom hands tug at your nipples, a warm feeling blooming low in your stomach. Your moans were coming out in short gasps. “Dorian.” Your fingernails leave marks on his broad shoulders and your head tips back. “I’m so close.” The pressure that had been building was becoming more intense. He whispers words of encouragement and praise.

And with a curl of his fingers you cry out, arching your body into him as your orgasm hits you. Your breath comes out in stutters, your body jerking and your knees trembling. His phantom hands help keep you upright. He coaxes you through it. And when your moans cease, he very slowly removes his fingers from your cunt with a squelching sound.

He brings them to his face, inspecting the wet sheen on them. Dorian smiles. “Look at how soaked you are.” Your arousal coats his entire hand, dripping down to his wrist. And while he keeps his eyes locked on yours, he puts his digits into his mouth and tastes your juices. Your breath hitches. His sapphire eyes darken considerably.

The palm of his hand rests on your collarbone and he gently pushes you until your back is lying on the bed. He reaches forward and rips off the lacy material of your underwear. After tossing them across the room he takes a step back and greedily takes in the sight of you; a thin sheen of sweat is covering your body, your nipples are red and swollen from where he sucked and bit on them, and your cunt is dripping wet.

“I need you,” your voice snaps Dorian out of his daze.

He starts to undo the button of trousers and pushes them down, removing his undershorts also. He steps out of them quickly and tosses them aside, and his cock slaps against his abdomen hard. You take in the sight; the fine patch of dark hair, the tip of his cock is red and leaking with his arousal.

You lick your lips, desperate to have his cock in your mouth. The previous time you fucked each other, you only briefly got to lick him, and you had forgotten what he’d tasted like.

He wraps a hand around his cock, giving it a firm stroke. He hisses. “You see what you do to me?”

Dorian walks forward, kneels on the bed and uses his phantom hands to restrain your wrists to the mattress. He lowers himself between your legs and an almost pained look crosses his features as he stares at your core, wet and gleaming for him.

It was a slow torture, him slowly kissing the inside of your thighs, nipping at skin and leaving love bites. His thumbs draw circles into your hips, and you keep squirming, wanting his tongue on your most sensitive part, but he seemed keen on the idea to tease you.

“Dorian,” you rasped. He would continue teasing until you begged for it. It’s what he wanted. You held his gaze and watched as he waited, a grin was on his face, but you could see his body trembling with restraint to keep himself from ravishing you. “Please.”

He cocks his head to the side, mockingly, and his grin is feline. “Because you asked nicely. . .”

Dorian took a long, languid lick up the center of your core. You let out a moan in relief and your eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the feeling of his tongue sliding up and down you, tasting you thoroughly. He peppers kisses along your cunt before he starts licking again.

One of his hands comes up to pinch your nipple and you buck your hips against his face, but he throws an arm across your waist to keep you still. He wraps his lips directly around your clit and you cry out as he starts sucking the sensitive nub. You struggle against the phantom hands that bound your wrists. You want to run your fingers through his hair grind against his face.

Grabbing your thighs, Dorian drapes them over his shoulders to hold you closer and keeps his eyes pinned to your face. He wanted to watch you come on his tongue. He pumps his fingers in and out of you, curling ever so slightly.

“Right there,” you gasp.

You watch as he presses his hips hard against the mattress and begins rutting against it, a soft groan leaving him and it vibrates through your core.

You try to free your hands from his magic, but it doesn’t budge. “Let me touch you.” You look at him with pleading eyes. “Please, let me touch you.” Finally, those phantom hands release their grip on you.

Your body writhes and your fingers rake through his black hair to push him closer, nails scratching along his scalp. Your cries of pleasure encourage him to keep going. His teeth scraping your clit is what makes you climax. His fingers quicken their pace, tongue moving faster, letting you ride out your high.

It leaves you trembling with needing more, but Dorian removes his tongue and fingers from you and leans back on his knees. His eyes linger on your abused cunt before he looks at you and you stare at him, too. Blue eyes full of adoration. His hair was in disarray, cheeks a pretty shade of pink, and his chin and lips were coated with your arousal but he didn’t seem to care.

He looked devastating.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he grabbed you by the hips and turned you around so you were on your knees, ass in the air, and the side of your face was pressed against the sheets. His hand left a hard smack across your ass cheek making a yelp escape your lips. Dorian’s hands once again grab your hips to bring you close to his face, and his fingers tease your entrance, and you arch your back, urging him to bring you another orgasm again.

He laughed teasingly. “So eager, dove.”

He sticks his tongue inside of your cunt and your entire body shudders. He moans, as if this is pleasuring him just as much as it is you. The taste of you was going to haunt him after this was over. The essence of you would haunt him.

He presses his fingers inside your leaking hole and the pace is fast, desperate to draw a third orgasm from you. Dorian wanted you to come again, and again, and again. He needed you to come again.

Another harsh slap to your ass has you moaning out his name. Your hands clutch the sheets tightly and you rock your hips against his face, and unlike last time, he doesn’t try to make you stay still. He lets you grind yourself on his face and makes his phantom hands rock your hips to move them faster. The tips of his fingers would leave bruises from how hard their grip was.

Lewd noises were coming out of his mouth and your face warmed from the sounds.

Your body trembles as he flicks his tongue against your clit repeatedly and you feel yourself come again. A loud cry echoing against the walls of his room. He hums against your cunt, letting the vibrations further stimulate you. It isn’t until your whimpering that he finally relents. You’re panting, strands of hair clinging to your forehead, and your knees give out beneath you.

“You’re doing so good for me,” Dorian praised. He presses a kiss against your spine. And then another. His hand rubbing your red backside from the slaps he gave. His ice magic soothing the tender skin.

“Dorian,” you mumble.

“Are you okay?” He asks, running a strong hand down the length of your spine gently. Your skin prickles.

You manage a weak nod.

“Use your words.”

“Yes,” you murmur. Your eyelids were heavy and the perspiration felt sticky on the nape of your neck.

He helps turn you around so you’re laying on your back. You drink in the sight of him and he does the same. Dorian’s lips were shining with your arousal and his cock looked painfully hard. You wanted to kiss him. You reached out a trembling hand, and he eyed it before taking hold of it and leaning over you, bracing his body weight on his elbows. His nose brushes yours softly.

“Kiss me,” you breathe. He brought his mouth to yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue. You were both frantic and desperate, and didn’t want to pull your mouths apart from each other.

You cup his face, rubbing your thumb along the sharp cheekbone as your other hand played with the strands of his hair. His body was trembling and whatever self-control he had left was slipping away.

You reach a hand down, gripping his length and give it a lazy stroke. He makes a soft noise at the touch, slowly moving his hips as you start pressing kisses onto his collarbones. His forehead resting on top of yours, eyes closed and savoring the moment. You run your thumb over the slit, gathering moisture before giving a gentle squeeze that makes a low growl leave Dorian. That last bit of self-control was completely gone.

He takes his cock and lines the head of it up with your cunt and in one motion, he fully sheaths himself inside of you. A sigh of contentment leaves the pair of you. His pace starts off slow, languid. Your hips roll against his, trying to find a rhythm that matches. His hands roam over the sides of your body before landing on your plush hips. Fingertips digging into your flesh.

“Tell me how you feel.” He licked the side of your throat.

“Good,” you pant. “So good.”

“You like me being inside you?” His tone was teasing, mocking, but you could hear how gravelly he sounded.

“Yes.”

He presses kisses to your lips, your neck, your collarbones, the swell of your breasts. Tongue flicking over both nipples. Your legs lock around his trim waist, bringing him closer to you and you clench tightly around him, and his hips jerk, drawing two mirrored moans of pleasure from you both. Your head tips back in bliss and your entire body is buzzing from pleasure.

Dorian’s eyes were a shade of blue so dark they looked like the freezing cold waters of the sea. He moans out your name like a prayer and dips down to kiss you again, as if one isn’t enough. Your hands run up and down his chest, the tip of your nail scraping his nipple. His thrusts were becoming rougher, deeper, more punishing than before. Your breasts bouncing with every snap of his hips.

One of his phantom hands started rubbing your clit and a low pressure was beginning to bloom in your belly, making a breathy gasp leave you. The walls of your cunt start contracting. Hot, heavy, open-mouthed kisses leave a thin string of saliva connecting your lips. It was messy. Both of you were moaning into each other’s mouth. Both of you sounded so needy.

Dorian buried his face into the crook of your neck. A cry left your lips as his teeth bit down on your skin. His thrusts were brutal, each one bringing you closer to the edge, hips snapping into yours hard enough that the headboard was banging against the wall. He obviously didn’t care if someone heard. And neither did you. The fingers on your clit were moving faster and your body was shaking. “Please, please, please. . .”

That familiar coil settled in your lower abdomen snaps. Your back arching off the bed as you come, the walls of your cunt clenching around him rhythmically, and you bury your forehead into the crook of his neck. Nails leaving red marks on his shoulders and down his back, and toes curling from the overstimulation.

Dorian fucks you through it, and his groans are growing louder and his thrusts harsher; he was going to come. He breathes out a desperate, pleading noise, leaning down until his forehead is pressed against yours. He fucks into you harder. The sound of skin-on-skin reverberating through the room. You give him words of encouragement, pressing quick kisses to his lips.

He comes with a deep, guttural groan. His hips stuttering. And you feel his seed spill into you as he rides out his high, fingertips gripping your hips so tight bruises would probably appear. His thrusts start to slow down before eventually stopping, and he pauses for a moment, panting heavily, before collapsing on top of you, unable to hold himself up any longer.

You brush back the damp strands of hair that cling to his forehead. Both of your bodies are shaking and slick with sweat. His breath tickles your skin.

There were no noises in the room anymore save for the sounds of both of you gasping for air, but it didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable. Dorian’s fingers loosened their tight grip on your hips and rubbed the flesh tenderly. A sigh of contentment left you. A passionate and generous lover indeed.

You could feel him start to grow restless. You unlocked your legs from around his waist and he gently pulled out from you with an almost inaudible hiss, and rolled onto his back right beside you, trying to catch his breath. The air in the room grew cold, his magic cooling the both of you off.

Your limbs felt heavy and you could feel his seed spilling out from you. You closed your eyes for a moment, still feeling the tingling sensation all over your body. Deep down you knew that no one would ever fuck you as good as Dorian just had. You didn’t know if this would happen again or if people would find out that you had fucked their king.

A small part of you inside felt sad knowing that you would be staying at the castle for only one more month before leaving to go back to your city. But you knew it was just sex. You didn’t expect anything more. It would be foolish to.

You could feel Dorian’s eyes burning into the side of your head, his lips parting, “Perhaps we should do this again.” The words were spoken nonchalantly, but you picked up on the tinge of nervousness. “Make it a three-time thing.”

You lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug, making yourself appear calm, and felt a grin tugging at your lips. “Maybe.”

#dorian havilliard #dorian havilliard x reader #dorian havilliard x you #throne of glass #sarah j maas #sjmaas #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass fic #throne of glass fandom #tog #crown of midnight #heir of fire #queen of shadows #empire of storms #kingdom of ash #sjm fandom #maasverse #dorian havilliard smut

232 notes · View notes

bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year

Text

𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝑒…

Requests are OPEN

⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚

𝒜𝒞𝒪𝒯𝒜𝑅

⋆✧｡Eris Vanserra masterlist

☁︎｡ Azriel masterlist

✧｡*Cassian masterlist

☁︎｡ Lucien Vanserra masterlist

𖤓₊ Helion masterlist

⋆✧｡Rhysand masterlis

⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚

𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝑔𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓈

✧｡*Lorcan Salvaterre masterlist

☁︎｡⋆Rowan Whitethorn masterlist

𖤓₊*Fenrys Moonbeam masterlist

*｡⋆Gavriel masterlist

☁︎｡Manon Blackbeak masterlist

✧｡*Aedion Ashryver masterlist

⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚

𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓈𝒸𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒸𝒾𝓉𝓎

☁︎｡Ruhn Danaan masterlist

⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚

𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒽 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔

☁︎｡⋆ Xaden Riorson masterlist

𖤓₊*Bodhi Durran masterlist

*｡⋆Garrick Tavis masterlist

𖤓₊Brennan Sorrengail masterlist

⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚

𝒫𝑒𝒹𝓇𝑜 𝒫𝒶𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝓊𝓃𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑒

𖤓₊*Pedro Pascal masterlist

✧｡*Joel Miller masterlist

☁︎｡Javier Pena masterlist

𖤓₊*Little concepts

⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚

𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒾𝓍 𝑜𝒻 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝓈

☾｡⋆Kaz Brekker masterlist

⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚

𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓇

*･༓Carmy Berzatto masterlist

⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚

𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝒹𝓊𝓉𝓎

☁︎｡Simon Ghost Riley masterlist

⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾⋆｡⋆˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚

Vince Dunn

#acotar imagine #azriel x reader #eris vanserra x reader #rhys x reader #cassian x reader #throne of glass #tog #lorcan salvaterre imagine #rowan whitethorn x reader #fenrys moonbeam x reader #gavriel x reader #the last of us x reader #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader

2K notes · View notes

shadowdaddies · 4 months

Text

King's Queen

Dorian Havilliard x Reader

based on this ask

Summary: Dorian's mother makes her opinions on your relationship clear. You make your own opinions known. (angst → smut → fluff)

Warnings: smut below the cut, phantom hands/light bondage, minors dni

Wiping your hands nervously on the skirts of your dress, you gave Dorian’s mother a shy smile, reaching your hand towards hers to shake. “It’s lovely to finally meet you, Georgina.”

Piercing green eyes appraised you, lip twisting disdainfully at your outstretched hand as her back straightened. She spoke in a delicate voice that betrayed the vitriol of her words. “How informal of you,” she noted glancing between you and Dorian. “I do still hold the title of Queen, if you were unaware. You may also refer to me as ‘Lady Havilliard’.”

With a flip of her long auburn hair, Georgina strolled towards her seat at the dining table, leaving you to awkwardly lower your hand to your side. Dorian quickly took your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles as he gave you a reassuring smile and guided you towards the table.

You took your seat, glancing down the table to where Georgina sat next to Dorian’s brother, Hollin, cutting his steak for him as the woman doted on her younger son, hardly sparing either you or Dorian a glance. After pushing around the mashed potatoes on your plate for an insufferable amount of time, you mustered the courage to try speaking to Georgina again.

With a deep breath, you plastered on a practiced, pleasant smile and turned towards where the queen sat. “Lady Havilliard, Dorian has told me that you quite enjoy the mountains. I’ve heard your home there is quite lovely - I can only imagine, if it holds a fraction of the beauty with which you’ve decorated this castle.”

Her cold gaze flicked to you, her own fork dropping to her plate with a clatter. “Yes, it is a lovely home,” she acknowledged before quickly turning back to Hollin. Lifting her wine glass to her lips, Georgina murmured so quietly that it was hardly detectable, even with your fae hearing. “Much nicer than a fae servant is accustomed to, I’m sure.” The insults continued, Georgina continuing her verbal assault as you struggled through the meal.

The effects of her words weighing heavier and heavier, your hand moved to Dorian’s thigh, squeezing for comfort. His sapphire eyes focused on you, hand moving to rub the back of yours in an assuring manner as you hurriedly finished your meal. Quietly bidding Georgina and Hollin a good night, you dashed out of the room as quickly as you could.

You moved at an exceptionally fast pace, stopping when Dorian grabbed your wrist, twirling you around to see his concerned gaze. Noting the barely held-in tears in your eyes, Dorian pulled you into the nearest room. Eagerly crossing the drawing room, you took a seat on the plush velvet sofa, burying your face in your hands.

Dorian crouched in front of you, rubbing soothing circles on your thighs. “My love, are you alright? I know my mother is unpleasant, and I am so sorry for that.”

You shook your head, leaning back against the seat as a wry chuckle left your lips. “It wasn’t only that she was so stiff and dismissive. You should have heard the things she said about me when she knew that you couldn’t hear. I am nothing but a fae servant, I only care for you for your title, I am not worthy of you.” Voice breaking at those last words, your shoulders shook as you began to cry into Dorian’s shoulder.

He held you for a long moment, letting you process your emotions before he placed a kiss to your head. “Are you going to be alright?” Sniffling, you nodded, and Dorian stood.

“I have something to take care of, but I will meet you in our bedroom,” he promised, giving a soft kiss to your lips before the both of you departed in different directions.

As you meandered back to your room, your head began to ache from all the tears you had spilled this evening. With a sigh of resignation, you turned back towards the kitchens in search of some water. The familiar shrill voice of Georgina Havilliard pricked your ears, and you rolled your eyes as you continued walking - until a deep, irritated voice rose louder.

Recognizing Dorian as the other person speaking, you quietly tiptoed towards the conversation, listening as you moved through the hallway. Rage boiled through you as you registered Georgina’s words coming from the cracked door up ahead. “I am not indifferent towards you, Dorian. I have given up on you. You are a consistent disappointment, and this common woman... pardon, fae - she spoke the word, dripping with disdain - is the perfect example of your poor choices. You are nothing as I hoped you would be.”

You could not bear to hear any more of her venom, nearly bursting the solid wood door off of its hinges as you burst into the room, halting Dorian and Georgina where they stood. Your eyes burned with fury as you turned towards the woman, barely maintaining the leash you held on your fae instincts which called on you to rip her to shreds.

Not bothering with pleasantries, you spoke in a voice you’d reserved for the worst of your enemies. “You may speak however you wish about me, but if I hear you belittle Dorian like that again, I will cut out your tongue. It is a miracle that your King is the exceptional man that he is, having come from you. It would be wise of you to recognize that.”

The air was heavy in the room, a long moment passing as Georgina shriveled under your intense gaze. With a sniffle, the woman raised her head, courageously lifting her green eyes to you as she spoke. “I will bear that in mind.”

With a smile, you nodded, once more wishing her a pleasant evening as you took Dorian’s hand and guided him out the door and towards your bedroom. Closing the door behind you, you turned to see Dorian’s sapphire eyes wide in shock as he stared at you. “Are you okay?” you whispered, becoming increasingly worried that you might have frightened him with your actions.

Dorian surprised you, his lips curving into a mischievous smile as he turned you around. Black hair hung in his eyes as Dorian towered over you, arms caging you in as he backed you against the wall. “That was the most spectacular... sexiest thing anyone has ever done for me,” he purred, leaning in as he dragged his nose up your neck.

His teeth found your earlobe, a moan leaving your lips as he tugged before moving back to your neck, slowly kissing his way down to your throat. “Dorian,” you whispered, arms wrapping around him as you begged his body closer to yours.

Dorian tsk’d at you, a wicked smirk gracing his lips as invisible hands gripped your wrists, pinning them above your head. You were trapped against the wall, desperately writhing as you begged Dorian to come closer. Instead, he stepped away, stroking his chin as he admired you on display like a work of art.

Slowly, so slowly, Dorian walked back forwards, dragging one finger down your throat to your sternum, the peak of your breasts exposed in the gown you had donned for the evening. As if another set of hands worked behind you, the laces of the dress were undone, Dorian easily sliding the fabric off of you until it fell to the floor.

“Gods, you are beautiful,” he murmured, his hand still idly tracing your body as you panted under his teasing touch.

“Please, Dorian. Touch me,” you begged. Dorian let out a low groan, his eyes darkening as his control snapped. He surged forward, one hand wrapping around the back of your neck as he tilted your head to kiss you deeply, tongue thrusting and swiping along the roof of your mouth as his other hand moved lower down your stomach.

Arching your hips into his touch, you whimpered when his fingers ghosted over your soaked core before he pulled away. You gasped, your anger lasting only a moment before the shadow hands released you, Dorian throwing you over his shoulder.

Dorian landed a playful smack to your bare ass, earning a yelp from you before he tossed you onto the bed, shadow hands returning to spread your arms and legs for him. You huffed in frustration, your arousal nearly painful as you begged again. “Dorian, I need you inside me, please.”

Unbuttoning his shirt, Dorian leaned down, kissing his way up your thighs before settling to hover over your heat. “I promise to make love to you tonight, but first I intend to worship you, thoroughly, my Queen.”

The moan that left you at his words quickly turned to a gasp as Dorian gripped your thighs, sucking harshly on your clit before thrusting his tongue into your core. He groaned at the taste, moving to flick his tongue against your clit as he brought a finger to curl inside of you.

Back arching as much as the invisible restraints would allow, you reached your high with a scream that you wee certain echoed through the castle.

Dorian quickly rid himself of his pants, lining up his hard length at your entrance as you nodded, granting him permission to push in. Jaw dropping in a silent moan at the pleasure, you felt Dorian’s head fall against your shoulder as he settled fully inside of you.

Phantom hands vanished, allowing you to pull Dorian into a searing kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist as you encouraged him to move. He rocked into you slowly but precisely, intentionally hitting a perfect angle that dragged out both your pleasure. Overcome by the gentleness of the moment, you whispered “I love you,” through silver lined eyes.

Dorian kissed you fiercely, pulling back to press kisses on every part of your face, whispering “I love you”s with each touch. With a shudder, he finished inside of you, rolling to the side as he held you close.

You pushed the hair from Dorian’s eyes, admiring his beauty as you sighed in contentment. “I cannot believe how lucky I am to have a man like you in my life,” you murmured, snuggling into his warm chest.

Dorian wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close and pressed a kiss to your hair. “I am the lucky one, my love.”

179 notes · View notes

oliviajdjarin · 1 year

Text

Azriel Shadowsinger: Young God

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Request: “Okay I’m annoying you with these now hehe sorry. But I have another idea/request. You know how in angst Azriel x reader oneshots it’s always the reader who’s in love with Azriel and he’s in a relationship? How about we switch that and make it so Azriel is in love with an unavailable reader?” @aroseinvelaris

Excerpt: “He looked up at you like a boy, a little boy, who had been pushed too far. And yet, at the same time, the Azriel who quickened your heart with only a glance was still there, giving his face and body the look of what you could only describe as a young, bleeding god. Covered in sweat and tears and blood, his hair soaked with the same alloy, he was a fallen angel, begging for mercy.

His eyes said to you make it stop. Please, make it end.

“Az,” you whispered, and he fell into your arms.

Your brain instantly tore you in half. You had never felt so overjoyed and crestfallen in the same moment.”

Warnings: illyrian!reader, jealous!azriel (so yummy), idiots in love, reader has sex with someone else, heavy swearing, kind of toxic reader and az, drinking, mating bond, punching bags, blood, kissing, and our lord of bloodshed and high lord make an appearance.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: I have been sitting on this request forever, and I feel I am finally capable of doing it justice. I hope you enjoy @aroseinvelaris, thank you again for your request.

A/N 2: I’m a lot a little rusty with acotar vernacular and Azriel descriptions. so please be kind. This is also incredibly not canon.

SJM Masterlist

If you would like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated :)

The last thing you wanted to do in the infamous, disreputable Windhaven War-Camp was drink, but with the presence of its current war lord, you were really fucking tempted to.

You could hear his remarks from a multiple tables away.

Training females, a waste of resources if you ask me.

What the fuck else does Rhysand expect of us? To put bitches in our camps? On our front lines?

Rhysand’s dogs wish they could prove what we do to with them after their training.

He was a cocksucking pig, and that was enough of an excuse for you to bring a cup of wine to your lips and practically guzzle it down.

“You hear him too?” said the Lord of Bloodshed to your right, or as you knew him, just Cass.

You nodded, taking another sip despite the sour grapes coating your tongue, and his leathers squeaked as he leaned forward on his chair. He was gripping his own glass like a sailor dangling over a hull.

“Mother help me,” he replied.

“Mother help us all,” you countered, and Cassian chuckled.

“And Rhysand most of all,” he replied, gesturing across the crowded dining area.

Rhys was elbows-deep in documents, going over how exactly Windhaven was functioning under his rule with the other war lords. You didn’t blame him. With Ironcrest continuing to defame him and grip onto their dissent, Rhysand couldn’t afford to lose anyone else.

He would never admit that, of course, but after over a century of spying for him, you had your ways of reading him; shoulders tight, back hunched, eyebrows creased, and chin resting on his palm. Yeah, he was a bit stressed out.

If only you could read another Illyrian in the room’s body language so well.

You and Cassian sat and drank for some time, grateful Rhys trusted you to be his backup but simultaneously regretting ever joining him in the first place, before the rest of your backup arrived.

You begged your heart not to quicken. The alcohol was already fucking with your head enough.

Azriel sat in the seat to your left, his distinct musk of cool air, leather, and shadows breezing by you as he did, and poured himself a glass of his own.

“Notice anything?” Cassian asked him as he poured, well aware that your heart was in fact quickening, but Az shook his head.

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

You nodded as he sipped his drink, leaning back into his chair. His wings and chest widened, giving your peripheral vision the perfect angle of his leathers. Him and Cassian had gone all out - adorned with every dagger, cuirass, pauldron, and gauntlet you could think of, in addition to their shimmering siphons bouncing off every metallic object in the hall. You blended in with them as best as you could.

Except, of course, the fact that you were a female.

Az’s voice ripped you from your thoughts. “I would feel more confident if Y/N did my route over again after dinner is served. Would you be okay with that?”

You nodded without looking at him, and were surrounded by silence once more.

The three of you continued to keep your eyes open, scanning the room for any sudden movements, suspicious glances, or unnecessary walks towards your High Lord. Your body besieged you to get up and get away from the male beside you. Escape the nervous energy he always seemed to coat you with made especially worse given the fact that you were surrounded and outnumbered by enemies, made your fight-flight-or-freeze response ache with strain.

The alcohol wasn’t helping the feeling at all. You needed something else. Right then and right there to make your heart pound and sweat pour from your pores.

With one glance to your right, you spotted your solution.

“Is that who I think it is?” Cassian asked, following your line of sight, and you grinned.

Ozia. A name perfect for his image in your mind.

Azriel followed your gaze as well, his spine straightening and his eyes squinting, and looked back to you with a look that could only be described as a mix of puzzled and panicked.

The male’s hazel eyes met yours across the hall, and in that moment, you knew exactly where your night was going to end.

The male was tall and chiseled, skin tanned and freckled, and his hair was brown and curly. It hung over his eyes slightly, etching his curved nose and pouted lips perfectly. He was quiet, reserved, but one of the few Ilyrian males you had ever found yourself able to trust. You had met him the last time you had visited Devlon, enforcing Rhysand’s rule of training before chores with an iron fist, and Ozia had backed you up completely. He explained that he had even started taking the females back to his home to teach them proper stretching and breathing techniques, and his support made your trip infinitely easier.

Maybe that was the reason you had ended up in his bed, or maybe it was because of his borderline piercing resemblance to the male on your left. Either way, Cassian had never teased you as relentlessly as he had the day he had found out - you still had no fucking idea how - and with the look in his eye as his gaze bounced between you, Ozia, and Az, he was not going to let this one go either.

Not a morsel of you cared. It was infinitely better than sitting in the want of a male you could never have.

You finished off your wine before standing up, scraping your wooded chair against the floor as you did. Azriel looked up at you and, likely having put the two pieces together, asked, “What about dinner?”

Your excitement to escape him caused you to overlook the venom in his tone.

“I’m not hungry,” you responded, and made your way towards the male you knew, and away from the one you wish you did.

~*~

Azriel willed himself to remember a word of what Cassian had said to him from the moment you left to the moment he finally made his escape, but as he trekked up the creaky, circular stairs to his dust-ridden bedroom for the evening, he could not recall a single word.

Not after the look in your eyes as you looked at the male across the room, the grin tracing your teeth as you eyed him, and the way your hips moved as you walked to him. Not after Azriel could not eat more than a few bites of the chicken soup provided for them without becoming queasy at the thought of what that male - Ozia - was doing to you, what you were doing to him. Not after the blow to his heart after waiting for you to walk his route with him, as you had agreed to, and you never showing.

And especially not now, as he prepared himself for the necessity of passing your room in order to get to his own.

With the alcohol muddling his mind and the exhaustion in his muscles from one of the longest days he had experienced in recent memory, he thought he could pass it by without a second thought. He was in the clear at the top of the steps, throat closing and head pounding, but as he made his way past your door, his hope dissolved like a sugar in tea.

He didn’t hear you, or him, or have any proof that you were together in your room in any way...

... except for the smell of it.

He had never hated anything more..

The smell of you - you - that he had gotten to know so well. Vanilla and green tea with just a hint of rose, a mixture true to who you were at your core, mixed with the smell of someone else. It was sex and sweat and spit and sheets and you so much of you and so much of him.

It was acrid, pungent, and so fucking heart shattering that he had to put his hand to his chest to ensure his heart was still beating.

He wanted to keel over in pain, rip his heart out of his chest, shatter every window in the cabin, and rip you away from him all in the same moment.

But he just kept on walking, ignoring the tether in his chest pulling him back to you more than anything else.

~*~

If Azriel thought that night was long, he was not ready for the morning after.

At breakfast, you reeked of him, yet the smile on your face was what burned Azriel to a crisp. As the four of you traveled home, you and Cass snuck glances at each other like two females who knew something Azriel didn’t. When you finally reached the House of Wind, you immediately went up to bed, mumbling something about how you hadn’t managed to get much sleep anyway.

He hadn’t either.

As you headed upstairs, Azriel headed down, vibrating with an energy he could not describe. All he knew was that he wanted it off of him. He needed everything he was feeling inside of him off and away it was cutting him so deeply -

“Hey,” came a voice, the arm attached to it finding its place on Azriel’s shoulder. He turned, startled to finally feel his body after living solely in his head, and was met with violet.

“What’s going on?” Rhys asked, and Azriel softened a bit from the look of concern in his eyes.

After centuries of having brothers - real brothers - he still wasn’t used to being loved.

“I’m fine,” Azriel replied, and Rhys raised his eyebrows. “Honestly, I am. Just overtired, and sick of Illyrians.”

As if on cue, Cassian walked through the house with a dagger in one hand and an even bigger bottle of liquor in the other, likely headed upstairs to bring said items up to his mate.

He turned to look at his observers as he made his way up, exclaiming proudly, “I picked the dagger out myself.”

Rhys and Az looked at each other after he reached the top, and Rhys chuckled, patting Azriel on the shoulder. “You and me both, brother.”

~*~

Azriel couldn’t remember how many punching bags he’d sent flying across the training room’s floor. He didn’t fucking care.

All he knew was that the feeling inside of him was not stopping.

He had done pushups until he collapsed, a plank until he dropped, crunches until he puked, and now he was punching the bags without any wrapping protecting the skin of his hands. He would take anything else - anything else - in place of this anguish. He could still smell it, couldn’t stop picturing it, and every time his brain seemed to release him from the torture of its vividity, it would snap back in almost instantly like a punch to his stomach.

He’d been hit many times, but nothing that felt like this. It was a feral, dirty, venomous beast inside of him tearing him apart with its nails and teeth. His arms were jelly, his hands were spilling clumps of blood, but it still wasn’t enough. The beast was relentless, beating Azriel no matter what he did.

His chest ached so badly. The thought of you kissing Ozia.

Punch.

Tasting him.

Punch.

Feeling him.

Punch.

Laughing with him.

Punch.

Smiling at him. Enough to crinkle your irises. While Azriel waited for you.

Punch.

And possibly even loving him.

A punch, a crack, and a scream echoed through the chamber, and Azriel smiled with victory as his body finally gave out on him.

~*~

You woke covered in sweat, an unidentifiable scream echoing through your mind like a stone in an empty cave, and a searing pain etching its way down your right hand. Tears coated your eyes as you sat up, hissing as the throbbing made it down to your fingertips.

The scream continued to reverberate all the while.

“Fuck,” you whispered, your hand laying limp by your side. You felt stupid for crying. You had broken your hand before.

But your hand wasn’t broken.

You attempted to wiggle it around, flexing your fingers and widening your grip, and the pain slowly faded to a dull ache. You wiped your eyes as you pushed down onto the mattress with it, attempting to gauge how harsh the pain was engrained your bones.

The searing sensation returned.

“Fuck,” you whispered again, and scooted off the bed and onto your feet. The sun had begun to rise outside your window, illuminating you with gold as you walked into the hall and down to the kitchen.

Your mind muddled with pain and sleep so harshly that you relied on your body to navigate for you, allowing it to think for you. You didn’t even know why you were going to the kitchen. You just needed to move the rest of your body to distract you from your hanging hand.

As you blinked the sleep out of your eyes, you realized that, instead of the kitchen, your body had begun to take you down further.

“What the fuck am I doing?” you questioned, but still walked down, down, down.

Maybe your body was telling you that some training would do you good. Maybe your hand was just stiff and sore, and needed renewed blood flow. You had been skipping out on your morning routine due to your guard duty. Maybe your body was itching for it back.

You yawned, whispering, “Whatever.”

You began rolling your shoulders as your feet hit the ground, warming up your back and neck. You rubbed your eyes one last time with your left hand, allowing your still aching right one to remain hanging at your side, while simultaneously becoming overwhelmed with the scent of sweat, rubber, and blood. For a second, you smiled, content with the feeling of walking into a space you knew so well - that knew you so well. You were excited, your adrenal gland suddenly pumping you with adrenaline and dopamine.

You were home.

That euphoric pairing was suddenly doused with cortisol as you turned towards the punching bags, only to be met with nearly a dozen lying flat, and a mass of dark wings kneeling on the hard ground.

A mass of dark wings that you could recognize with only the sound of them.

“Azriel,” you whispered, watching as he breathed heavily, clutching his bleeding hand. He was surrounded by small sprays of crimson blood and clear sweat, painting the floor a muted color. His expression was...pained, haunted.

It was his right hand he was clutching.

“Azriel,” you said again, a bit louder that time, and picked up your stride. He hinted at no recognition.

Your own pained hand was long forgotten.

You reached him quickly, kneeling down beside him and touching his shoulders gently. You turned him to look at you, tempted to finally understand the exact feeling of his face slightly stubbled, but his head remained low.

“Azriel, what the fu -” you began, but were unable to form another syllable when his golden eyes connected with yours.

He looked up at you like a boy, a little boy, who had been pushed too far. And yet, at the same time, the Azriel who quickened your heart with only a glance was still there, giving his face and body the look of what you could only describe as a young, bleeding god. Covered in sweat and tears and blood, his hair soaked with the same alloy, he was a fallen angel, begging for mercy.

His eyes said to you make it stop. Please, make it end.

“Az,” you whispered, and he fell into your arms.

Your brain instantly tore you in half. You had never felt so overjoyed and crestfallen in the same moment.

His face was pressed against your collarbone as he began to weep, and his arms wrapped around your waist. He was timid at first, waiting for you to push him away, but you didn’t. Your body molded him to you, pressing him against you and holding him like glass. He was shaking, sweating, and bleeding all over you, enough that blood dripping from his mouth had begun to soak through your shirt. You closed your eyes and held him impossibly closer, and brought your still throbbing hand up to the back of his neck.

Every part of his body that you could feel was warm - too warm.

“Azriel,” you whispered, your voice suddenly cracking at the effort to speak, “what happened?”

He said nothing.

“Why are you down here, Azriel?” you asked, beginning to rub your fingers along the top of his spine. “Tell me why.”

He inhaled shakily, his hot breath mixing with the heat of his blood still staining you, and tried to speak. Nothing escaped besides another quiet sob.

This Spymaster, Illyrian warrior, the strongest there had ever been, was shattering in your arms.

“Please just tell me,” you whispered again. It was your own way of begging him to get up again, be the male who never cracked, never crumbled. He was a rock - he was always a rock - and seeing him like this was scaring the living shit out of you.

He had to have caught on, because after a few shaky breaths, he whispered quietly enough for only you to hear. “Because I can still smell him on you.”

Your eyes widened, and a copper taste coated your tongue.

“You...” you whimpered, “you smell him?”

Suddenly Azriel pushed himself off you and looked at you with something other than pain and hurt.

It was...you didn’t know what it was.

“Yes,” he replied, his bloodied, broken hand trembling, “that’s all I can fucking smell and see. I can’t stop it. No matter what I do, I can’t stop it.”

You recalled Rhysand’s words from the past, about Feyre.

When I would feel her on Tamlin, he said, it was all I could see. I couldn’t stop it.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Azriel continued, “my chest...it hurts.”

It was all in my chest, Rhysand had said, the pain was, at least, The rest was somewhere deeper, like it was engrained in me. The wrongness of it was inside of me.

“It’s inside of me, Y/N.” Azriel’s mouth was dripping blood now, adding to the mural he had painted on the floor, “I don’t...your hand?”

You looked down at your limp one, and back up at him.

“You...you felt it?” he asked, referring to the shattering of his own bones.

You nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks, but from something other than pain. Your voice was breathy and perfumed with triumph as you traced the pattern in both Az and Rhys’s words. “Yes.”

Azriel’s defeated eyes suddenly lit with curiosity. “How...how is that possi -”

“The pain’s right here, isn’t it?” you interrupted him, putting your left hand on the area right beneath your breasts. “Right here?”

You moved your hand to the same area on his chest, and he nodded.

“It burns, doesn’t it?”

“Everywhere,” he agreed.

You nodded. “It’s deep, like in your bones it feels -”

“- wrong.” He completed your sentence for you.

You smiled, big enough to wrinkle your irises, and kissed him.

He was bloody and hot, but you kissed him anyway, hard enough for drops of it to begin to drip down your lips as well.

You pulled away and took his injured hand in yours. “Why do you think I was with Ozia in the first place?”

Azriel’s voice was quiet and unsure. “I... I don’t know.”

“Because he was as close to you as I could get,” you said with a chuckle. “I thought, after a century, there was no hope. That the Cauldron destined you for someone else. I figured, if I couldn’t have you, I would drown the grief in someone who I could pretend was you.”

His eyes widened, and he licked his bloodied lips before asking, “Did it work?”

You chuckled back and kissed his cheek. “Not even close.”

With your lips still buzzing, he pulled you in for another kiss, and finally - finally - the cracks in your chest bloomed into a bond. It was soothing, spreading itself over all the wounds that remained open from a century of festering, and replaced them with a garden of roses. The feeling stretched itself around your body, wrapping you in a cocoon of solace. You had been carrying the ache of an untethered line in your body, and it had finally found its dock.

He kissed you softly, holding back enough to prove to you of his uncertainty, before you pulled away and mumbled, “I feel it too.”

He swallowed and smiled, enough to crinkle the skin around his eyes and accentuate his dimples. With his blood still dripping from both of your mouths, he said with full confidence, “You’re my mate.”

You wiped the blood from his chin and brushed back the strands of hair sticking to his forehead as you replied, “And you are mine.”

With eyes only filled with love, Azriel said, “So that’s why I wanted to tear his jaw off.”

You smiled and pressed your foreheads together, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone. Your shattered hands were placed on top of each other on the ground.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you said to him. “I thought the pain I felt was merely jealousy, and I was with Ozia to escape from it. If I knew you were experiencing it too, or if I was honest from the beginning, you never would have gotten hurt.”

You leaned back to look him in the eye as you said, “I am sorry I hurt you. I am sorry I left you to do the route alone. I am sorry for all of it.”

He only smiled. “I had every opportunity to be honest too, and I didn’t take it. This isn’t your fault.’

You nodded, but he kissed you again. “This isn’t your fault.”

You kissed him back, showing him you believed him through your tongue and teeth.

You had dreamed of this moment, internalized every spat of poetry Rhysand and Cassian had iterated about the feeling of it, but nothing could have prepared you to know the feeling of being honestly, rawfully, and purely loved.

Taglist (if you’d like to be added please let me know!)

@leahkenobi @notquitehero @lovelyladymayyy @seraphqueen @em---r @azaideen @katiebellf @llovelydove @tinasbookishlife @xxpeachyxo @evlyncelia @icarusave @forever-paramore28 @peachyxlynch @feyretopia @wingedmiken @moonslattes @hollyismentallyillhelp @esposadomd @redhighlady @bsenpai-blog @buttercake2234 @perssepeony @whor-3-crux @avengerswhre @mystic-sculpture @wolfyland7 @are-y0u-serious-blog @hilism @tooobsessedsstuff @simplysensual @hernameispa @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @i-am-fascinated @seraphimluxe @just-living5 @saphiraprince22 @azsazz @thatonespriteobsessedbitch @moisyinfluencerstrawberry @bigcreatorwombatdreamer

#Azriel #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel smut #cassian x reader #rhysand x reader #acotar #acowar #acofs #acomaf #acofas #acotar fanfiction #sarah j maas #tog #crescent city fanfic

774 notes · View notes