Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Summary: Cassian dares Azriel to call Y/N a “good girl,” and the River House descends into chaos.
a/n: Y/N has shadows and starlight powers because why not?🤭 This tid-bit of info will make sense as you read.
Masterlist
———————————————————————————
The late afternoon sun slanted lazily through the windows of the River House, bathing the living room in golden light. The air hummed with quiet conversation and the soft clinking of glasses, the occasional flutter of faelight drifting near the ceiling like drowsy stars. Velaris stretched peacefully outside the tall windows, but inside, the Inner Circle was gathered in their usual chaotic harmony.
Cassian was draped across one of the oversized couches like a lounging mountain, one foot on the coffee table, sipping from a glass of something amber. Nesta was curled beside him, her legs tucked under her as she read, pretending to ignore him—but everyone could see the slight curve to her lips at whatever nonsense he’d just said.
Rhys was stretched on another couch, Feyre leaning against his side as they shared a blanket, her sketchpad resting on her knees. She was absently doodling swirls of starlight and wings, her free hand curled around Rhysand’s fingers. Mor sat on the floor nearby, polishing her nails with a spell that shimmered gold and green with every flick of her hand. Elain, quiet but present, was perched in a window seat with a tray of tea, and Lucien lounged beside her, one arm slung lazily over the backrest as they chatted in low tones.
Amren reclined in a dark armchair, looking like a cat in the sun, sipping a goblet of something no one dared ask about, eyes half-lidded but sharp as ever.
Azriel sat in an armchair near the fireplace, shadows curling lazily around his shoulders like smoke. He had a book in his lap, unopened, because his attention kept flickering toward the open doorway leading to the kitchen.
That was where Y/N was.
They could hear her moving, her bare feet padding softly across the tile, cabinet doors opening and shutting, and an unmistakably muttered, “Where the fuck are the cheesy things?” drifting into the room.
Azriel’s lips quirked at that—barely—but the others noticed.
Cassian saw it first. And grinned like a predator spotting prey.
“Hey, Az,” Cassian said loudly, his voice a low drawl. “I dare you to call Y/N a good girl when she walks back in.”
The room went still for a beat.
Azriel’s shadows recoiled, like startled birds.
Feyre choked on her tea. Mor burst out laughing. Nesta looked up sharply, her brows lifting. Even Amren cracked one glowing eye open, clearly intrigued.
Elain blinked in quiet horror. Lucien looked like someone had lit a match under his chair.
Azriel didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe for a second.
“That’s low,” he muttered, but his voice betrayed the flicker of interest. Mischief.
Cassian leaned in, devilish. “Come on, brother. She melts when you say it. Like a dying star. She forgets her name. For science.”
“You’re an idiot,” Azriel replied, but he was already shifting, the barest smile tugging at his lips.
Cassian’s eyes glinted with glee. “For the record, I dare you.”
From the kitchen came the crinkling sound of a bag being triumphantly torn open. And a triumphant, “Aha!”
Y/N stepped into the doorway, holding a bag of some cheesy snack triumphantly, her hair catching the sunlight, shadows trailing behind her like a cloak, starlight dancing in her eyes.
And Azriel, cool as ever, looked up at her from his chair and said—soft and low, like a forbidden promise, the kind of voice that could make anyone forget the world—
“Good girl.”
Y/N froze.
The snack bag slipped slightly in her fingers.
The world—no, the entire house—held its breath.
Her pupils dilated. Her chest rose sharply with a breath. Knees buckled just a little. A flush crept up her cheeks, slow and deep. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
Cassian exploded into laughter. “CAUGHT!”
Nesta threw a pillow at him.
Mor squealed. “She’s literally blushing! Az, do it again—do it again!”
Feyre nearly dropped her sketchpad as she laughed. Rhysand looked vaguely scandalized. Amren smirked over the rim of her goblet.
Azriel… was already on his feet, stalking toward Y/N like a shadow come to life, all dark promise and slow steps, his smirk lazy, knowing.
Y/N stood there like someone had unplugged her brain, cheesy snack bag clutched in one limp hand, completely undone by two words.
“Stars,” she muttered, barely audible. “That’s not fair.”
He stopped just in front of her, dipped his head until their mouths almost touched, and whispered once more, like a gift and a curse—
Not with that voice in her ear. Not when his hand slid around her waist with the barest pressure, fingers splaying possessively over her hip. Not when his shadows curled around her ankles and calves like warm silk, winding upward in slow, teasing spirals. Her knees gave a telltale wobble, and she might’ve leaned into him more than she meant to.
Azriel tilted his head, studying her with that impossibly focused gaze, the one that said he saw everything—every blush, every flicker of breath, every tremble she couldn’t quite hide.
“You dropped your snack,” he murmured, his lips brushing her cheek, but there was laughter in his tone now. Teasing. Dangerous.
Y/N’s voice was a whisper, scandalized and aroused and helpless all at once. “You’re evil.”
Cassian, from the couch: “Confirmed. Absolute menace. But we love him anyway.”
Rhys groaned into Feyre’s hair. “We need to start setting rules for these gatherings. Like no weaponized mating rituals in the living room.”
Mor was wiping tears from her eyes, still giggling. “Can’t believe how fast her soul left her body. Az, what did you do to her?”
“I said two words,” Azriel said innocently, though his hands hadn’t left Y/N’s waist.
“That you said them,” Feyre pointed out, grinning. “Big difference. If Cassian said it, she’d punch him.”
“True,” Y/N muttered, finding her voice again as she blinked up at her mate, trying to gather her strength. “You’re the only one allowed to say that.”
Azriel’s smirk deepened, pure male satisfaction.
“Say it again and I swear I will melt into the floor,” she whispered, half a warning, half a dare.
He leaned closer, and it was ridiculous—how even his breath on her skin made her insides twist.
But he didn’t say it again. No, instead he brushed a kiss just beneath her ear and murmured something else, something private, only for her—
And whatever he said made her clutch his shirt and mutter something in a language none of them understood. Her accent had thickened, her cheeks were flaming, and her shadows were writhing like they didn’t know what to do with themselves.
Azriel just smiled.
Lucien raised a brow from his seat. “I think we just witnessed the mating equivalent of a death blow.”
Elain looked down into her teacup, face burning.
Cassian was howling with laughter. “She short-circuited! You broke her! Y/N, you good?”
Y/N slowly turned her head over Azriel’s shoulder and leveled Cassian with a look of pure venom—except her lips were twitching upward at the corners.
“I’m going to shove cheesy snacks into your mouth until you shut up.”
“Promising me snacks? That’s not the threat you think it is.”
Azriel sighed, then bent down and retrieved the snack bag from the floor, brushing it off before pressing it into her hands. “Here. For your trouble.”
She squinted at him. “If you say it again in that voice, I will not survive the night.”
“I’ll be gentle.”
“Azriel.”
But she was laughing now, flushed and glowing in that way she always got around him—like starlight blooming just beneath her skin. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple and led her back toward the couch, one hand still at her waist, and she let him.
The others watched them settle onto the floor near the hearth, Y/N leaning into Azriel’s side with the snack bag in her lap, still looking vaguely dazed. Azriel passed her one of the cheesy crisps like she was the queen of Prythian and this was some sacred offering.
Cassian, watching them with exaggerated horror: “We just enabled something truly terrible.”
Nesta: “Good. Now shut up.”
And as laughter filled the room once again, Y/N whispered, only loud enough for Azriel to hear, “I like being your good girl.”
Azriel didn’t say a word.
But his shadows swirled with contentment, and his smile—slow and secret—could’ve set the whole house on fire.
Cassian leaned back against the couch like a smug, overgrown cat, swirling the remains of his drink in his glass. He was watching Y/N and Azriel with that all-too-familiar gleam in his hazel eyes—the one that usually meant trouble was brewing.
Y/N was still nestled beside Azriel near the hearth, curled into his side, her legs tucked beneath her, munching on a cheesy crisp like it was the last edible thing in Prythian. Her cheeks were finally losing some of their deep blush, her breathing mostly even again.
Cassian clearly decided that peace had lasted too long.
With a slow, sly grin, he said to the room—loudly enough that everyone could hear, especially the couple in question—
“Now I’m just curious what her reaction would be if Az said, ‘on your knees.’”
Silence.
Actual, stunned silence.
Rhys choked on air.
Feyre gasped, her eyes wide as dinner plates.
Mor made a noise that was half-squeal, half-scream. “CASSIAN!”
Elain made a soft, scandalized squeak and buried her face in her hands. Lucien immediately reached for his drink, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “I’m not drunk enough for this.”
Nesta didn’t look up from her book, but her lips twitched as if she were biting back a laugh. “Gods, you’re such a shit-stirrer.”
Azriel didn’t even blink.
Y/N?
Y/N went completely still.
The kind of still that said every system in her body had shut down and restarted in a blaze of chaotic what the fuck.
Her hand froze halfway to her mouth, cheesy crisp inches from her lips. Her pupils dilated so fast it was like someone flipped a switch. She made a small, choked sound and looked at Azriel like he’d somehow already said it.
And Azriel… gods-damned Azriel…
The corner of his mouth lifted. Just slightly. Slowly. Like he was very aware of her reaction—and storing it for later use.
He said nothing.
But his shadows purred.
Y/N slowly turned her head toward Cassian, blinking like someone had just slapped her with a lightning bolt.
“Do you want to die?” she asked sweetly.
Cassian threw his head back and cackled. “Stars, it’s even worse than I thought! You didn’t even say it and she nearly melted into the floor!”
“Cass,” Azriel said, voice low and dangerous—not angry, but possessive, like a quiet warning growl. “Keep talking, and I’ll give her that command right here.”
Y/N made another helpless noise, turning red from her collarbones up.
Mor was dying, absolutely shrieking. “I can’t! I can’t—Az, if you say it I swear I’ll combust!”
Rhys, rubbing his temples like a father who’s lost control of his children: “Someone—anyone—please stop this. Elain looks like she might faint.”
Lucien reached over and gently moved Elain’s teacup away from her lap before something catastrophic could happen.
Meanwhile, Y/N was clutching Azriel’s shirt now, her head buried against his shoulder like she could hide from the conversation—but her body betrayed her. The way her legs shifted, the arch in her back, the way her shadows curled tight around her thighs—
Azriel bent his head close, and whispered something only she could hear. Her gasp was audible.
Cassian, watching the whole thing unfold like a delighted villain, grinned ear to ear. “Yup. That’s going in the record book.”
Nesta rolled her eyes. “You have a record book?”
He waggled his brows. “I do now.”
Y/N finally peeked up from Azriel’s shoulder, her voice hoarse but steady. “I hope you know that when I recover from this, I’m kicking your ass.”
Cassian smirked. “Fair. But worth it.”
Azriel ran his hand slowly down her spine, a look of dark promise in his eyes.
And he murmured—not loud enough for anyone else to hear, but enough to make her shiver—
“Later.”
Y/N didn’t make a sound.
She just melted. Again.
And Cassian lost his mind.
“YOU GUYS! YOU’RE GONNA KILL HER! STOP!”
Azriel just smiled. And this time… even Rhys looked a little afraid.
But, of course, he was not done.
Because Azriel never let go of an advantage once he had it—and right now, Y/N was flushed, breathless, barely hanging on to the frayed remains of her composure. Cassian’s comment had been the match, but Azriel? Azriel was the flame.
The Shadowsinger reached lazily into the snack bag still resting in Y/N’s lap, pulled out one of the crisps—one of those curled, golden cheesy ones—and held it between his fingers.
Completely casual. Like he hadn’t just whispered promises into her ear. Like he wasn’t still the reason her entire nervous system was currently short-circuiting.
Then, ever so innocently, he turned to her and murmured—
“Open your mouth for me.”
The room went dead silent.
Again.
Feyre’s jaw dropped.
Mor screamed.
Cassian made a wheezing sound and nearly fell off the couch.
Lucien covered his face with his hands and muttered something like, “Oh, for the love of—”
Even Amren, lounging in a chair like some ancient, unimpressed cat, raised a single dark brow.
Y/N?
Y/N made a sound that could only be described as a high-pitched whimper.
Her spine straightened like she’d just been electrocuted, and her hands flew up as if she didn’t know whether to push him away or drag him closer. Her mouth opened—and then promptly snapped shut again, eyes wide in horror at her own reaction.
Azriel blinked at her, all innocence. “What? It’s a snack.”
Liar.
Y/N was staring at the chip like it was the One Ring and she was about to fall to her doom.
“Y-you…” she tried. “You know what you’re doing.”
Azriel tilted his head. “I’m feeding you.”
Cassian, clutching his stomach, howled. “Oh my gods, she doesn’t know whether to eat it or beg.”
Nesta muttered, “I swear if he keeps this up, she’s going to ascend to another plane.”
Mor flung a pillow at Azriel. “Stop corrupting her!”
“Too late,” Y/N whispered, eyes still locked on her mate.
She was vibrating. Her shadows were wrapped tight around her legs again, her starlight flickering faintly along her fingers like her powers couldn’t figure out how to help her.
Azriel leaned in, his voice velvet and low, and added with that damn smirk—
“Be a good girl and open up.”
Y/N made a strangled sound and obeyed before she could think. Mouth open, eyes dazed, spine arching slightly like every cell in her body had been commanded.
He placed the chip on her tongue with gentle, devastating precision.
She didn’t even taste it.
Cassian died.
Dropped off the couch entirely.
Nesta didn’t bother catching him.
Rhys buried his face in Feyre’s lap and moaned. “Make it stop, please, make it stop—”
Elain looked like she was experiencing a crisis. Lucien had gone utterly still beside her, wide-eyed. Mor was wheezing through her laughter.
Y/N, eyes fluttering closed around the cheesy crisp, finally swallowed, then slumped back against Azriel’s shoulder, absolutely done.
“I hate you,” she mumbled.
Azriel just brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers, utterly unrepentant.
“No, you don’t.”
And stars help her—
He was right.
Azriel, the insufferable, beautiful bastard, glanced down at his fingers—now dusted with that unmistakable cheesy orange powder from the crisp he’d just fed her. He inspected them with a faint smirk, clearly considering his next move.
Y/N, still recovering, was half-sprawled against his side, her mind mush, her pride in shambles. Her heart was racing, her skin still flushed. One little command and she’d folded like wet parchment.
So, of course, of course he wasn’t done.
Without a word, he lifted his hand—the one with the cheesy dust—and held two fingers in front of her lips, tilting them slightly in offering.
And then, in that dark, low murmur that somehow sounded like a kiss laced with sin—
“Clean my fingers for me, sweetheart.”
Cassian let out an actual scream. Mor shrieked with laughter and nearly fell off the couch.
Feyre smacked Rhys on the arm to stop his uncontrollable snorting. Elain made a noise that may have been a gasp—or a gasped prayer. Lucien had gone completely still again, one eye twitching.
Nesta was watching now, intrigued. “I want to see if she combusts.”
Y/N stared at Azriel’s fingers like they were the gates to Hel. Her lips parted—reflex—and then she slapped a hand over her own mouth.
“Azriel!” she squeaked behind her fingers, eyes wide with shock, heat flooding her cheeks again. “You can’t just—in front of everyone—”
He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just kept his hand out, that smug little tilt to his mouth.
“I’m just asking for help,” he said, utterly innocent. “You made me touch those chips. Now I’m all messy.”
Cassian, choking on laughter: “This is torture. I didn’t know watching someone descend into horny chaos could be this entertaining.”
Mor couldn’t breathe. “She’s gonna spontaneously ascend. Like full fae goddess mode, just out of sheer flustered thirst.”
Y/N, trembling with internal conflict, very slowly lowered her hand from her mouth. Her eyes were locked on Azriel’s, pupils dilated, lips parted, and her voice came out as a whisper:
“…You’re going to pay for this.”
Azriel’s voice dropped even lower. “Gladly.”
And gods help her—
She leaned forward.
Just the barest brush of her tongue over his fingertips, her eyes fluttering shut like she hated herself for it—and also maybe wanted to crawl into his lap and never leave again.
The moment her tongue touched his skin, his shadows shuddered.
Azriel inhaled through his nose like he’d just been handed every fantasy he’d never dared admit aloud.
Cassian actually collapsed, face-down on the floor, sob-laughing.
Rhys sat up and pointed a warning finger. “No one is allowed to say another word for the rest of the evening.”
Mor was crying. “It’s too late! They’ve corrupted this space forever!”
Y/N leaned back again, cheeks aflame, and buried her face in Azriel’s shoulder with a muffled groan.
“You’re evil,” she muttered.
Azriel wrapped an arm around her and kissed the top of her head, his voice velvet and pure satisfaction.
“You love it.”
Cassian was still on the floor, pounding the hardwood with his fist like this was the greatest entertainment Velaris had ever known. “I take it back—this is better than sparring. Someone bring popcorn. No—cheesy crisps. Give me the cheesy crisps. I want to see what happens if I hold out my fingers.”
Azriel didn’t even look at him. “Try it and lose them.”
Y/N was vibrating in place, her face buried in Azriel’s neck, clearly trying to become one with his shadows to escape the utter humiliation and arousal that had consumed her.
Feyre had thrown a pillow at Rhys. “You’re the High Lord, do something!”
Rhys looked entirely too amused for someone supposedly in control. “This is divine punishment. For all of us.”
Lucien muttered, “I feel like I’m intruding on some very private mating ritual.”
Elain was pink, sipping her tea with trembling hands, her eyes so wide they looked like they’d never close again.
Amren hadn’t moved. “Honestly, I want to see how far this goes. My money’s on Y/N throwing Azriel through the wall before the hour’s done.”
Nesta, still cool and unreadable, just said, “I’ll help patch the wall when it happens.”
Azriel turned to Y/N, still cradling her like she was precious—and absolutely wrecked.
He tilted her chin up just enough to see her eyes, voice low and wicked.
“Still hungry, love?”
Y/N blinked up at him, her voice a whisper. “You are cruel.”
Cassian, from the floor: “He is! Isn’t it amazing? It’s like watching a temple girl be corrupted by the darkest male in existence—”
He paused. “Wait. That’s kinda what’s happening.”
Mor was crying again. “Y/N’s going to explode, and I’m not missing it.”
Y/N—desperate for payback—finally pushed herself upright. Her shadows flickered, starlight trailing her fingertips as she glared at Cassian.
“Oh, you think you’re safe?” she said, voice still breathy but gaining strength. “You want chaos? Fine.”
She pointed a single glowing finger at him. “If you don’t shut your mouth, I will say something to Nesta that will leave you begging.”
Cassian’s smugness vanished instantly.
His head snapped toward Nesta. “She’s bluffing.”
Nesta looked up slowly, like a lioness stirring in the sun. “She’s not.”
Cassian’s eyes went wide. “Y/N. Y/N. We’re friends. Friends.”
Y/N, voice sweet and laced with vengeance: “Then be quiet, General.”
Everyone howled.
Cassian threw a pillow at her. She caught it mid-air, shadows snatching it and gently setting it down beside her.
Azriel was beaming. Actually smiling, proud and delighted.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured in her ear.
Y/N melted. Again. “Gods-dammit—Azriel—!”
“Language,” he whispered, far too amused.
Feyre buried her face in her hands. “We’re never having a normal night again.”
Rhys sighed dramatically. “There’s no such thing as ‘normal’ when your brother’s sex voice ruins the entire living room.”
Azriel looked entirely unbothered. “Not my fault she’s obedient.”
Y/N shrieked.
Lucien spit out his wine.
Cassian groaned. “I will never get that image out of my mind.”
Amren sipped her bloodwine and muttered, “Good. Maybe next time you’ll think before daring the Shadowsinger to speak.”
Y/N launched a pillow at Azriel’s face.
He caught it one-handed, grinning. “You missed.”
Her voice came out in a growl, low and breathy.
“I never miss.”
Everyone froze.
Cassian: “Oh, she’s fighting back now.”
Nesta closed her book. “Let her.”
Azriel leaned in again, a challenge in his eyes, his voice practically dripping shadow and seduction.
“Then prove it, little star.”
And just like that—
That was it.
Y/N snapped.
With a strangled sound—something between a shriek and a gasp of pure exasperated sexual frustration—she launched herself fully into Azriel’s lap.
Azriel barely had time to blink before—
WHUMP.
A pillow hit him square in the face.
Then again.
WHUMP. WHUMP. WHUMP.
“Y/N—” he choked, trying to grab her wrists. “Y/N—”
She straddled him, knees on either side of his thighs, hair wild and falling into her face, eyes blazing, and just kept hitting him with the pillow.
“You. Smug. Bastard. That. Voice. Is. A. Warcrime!”
WHUMP. WHUMP. WHUMP.
Azriel’s shadows scattered in shock, clearly not sure whether to defend him or help Y/N.
Cassian was on his back on the floor, kicking his legs in hysterical laughter. “She snapped, I told you! She SNAPPED!”
Nesta smirked, folding her arms. “I like her more every day.”
Feyre was howling now, clinging to Rhys who looked like he’d aged ten years in the last five minutes. “I don’t even know who I’m rooting for anymore!”
Lucien murmured to Elain, “Should we look away?”
Elain: “I want to…but I can’t.”
Mor had completely lost it, tears running down her cheeks. “This is the best night of my life. I’m going to commission Feyre to paint this.”
Azriel had given up trying to stop her. He just sat there, letting her rain down justice, biting back laughter—though his shadows were trembling, and his smile was only growing wider the more she attacked.
“Mercy,” he said finally, shielding his face with one hand, catching the pillow with the other. “I surrender.”
“You do not!” Y/N shouted, WHACKING him again. “You think you can just ruin my brain in front of everyone and get away with it?!”
“Technically, you climbed into my lap,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching.
WHACK.
“I hate you.”
“You love me.”
WHACK.
“You’re not allowed to be hot and smug at the same time!”
Azriel caught the pillow again and suddenly flipped them, faster than anyone could react. Y/N gasped as her back hit the cushions beneath him, the pillow pinned between them, his body covering hers. Shadows coiled around them like a barrier, separating them from the howling laughter around the room.
He leaned close, nose brushing hers.
His voice, damn him, dropped again—
“You like me best like this.”
Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Her fingers fisted in the front of his shirt.
Cassian yelled from the floor, “STOP! I’M TOO YOUNG TO BE EXPOSED TO THIS MUCH TENSION!”
Amren stood and dusted off her pants. “Alright. That’s enough. If they start dry-humping on this couch, I’m burning the place down.”
Azriel looked at her without moving. “We’d at least move to the guest room.”
WHACK. The pillow hit him one more time.
Y/N, face flushed and breathless, just stared up at him and muttered:
“…You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”
Azriel’s grin was all teeth and shadows.
“We both know that’s a lie.”
And every single person in that living room just lost it.
Y/N made a noise—a sound that wasn’t even a word, more like the wail of someone at the very edge of sanity and desire. A feral, strangled growl of pure exasperated chaos.
Then—
Her hands flew up.
And she wrapped them around Azriel’s throat.
Not tight—just enough to shake him.
Azriel let it happen.
His head bobbed slightly as she rattled him like a goblet of wine she was about to shatter. “I hate you!” she half-snarled, half-whimpered, glaring into his stupidly beautiful, smug, night-kissed face.
Azriel didn’t fight back. Just sat there on top of her with that infuriating little smirk tugging at his lips, shadows dancing gleefully behind him like they lived for this exact brand of foreplay.
“You are insufferable,” she hissed, still shaking him, face flushed, heart pounding.
Azriel blinked at her, calm as ever, and asked in the softest, silkiest voice:
“Harder?”
Cassian screamed. “I’M GOING TO ASCEND. AZRIEL’S KINKY. I CALLED IT. I KNEW IT.”
Feyre launched a pillow at him. Rhys tackled him with another.
Lucien actually choked on air and wheezed, “Is this what mating bonds are supposed to be like? Is this…normal?!”
Mor fell off the couch this time, full-on cackling.
Elain had gone completely still, blinking very slowly like her brain was buffering.
Nesta looked like she’d just been handed her favorite wine and a front-row seat to the greatest soap opera in Prythian. “I’m learning things I can never unlearn.”
Y/N released his throat with a groan of utter despair and let her arms flop back down against the cushions.
Azriel, absolutely pleased with himself, leaned down again until his nose brushed hers, shadows still coiling like smug little bastards.
“Finished?” he asked, voice all dark silk.
Y/N stared up at him with narrowed eyes and a trembling lip.
“…No,” she said.
Then she pulled him down by the collar and bit his jaw.
Azriel groaned, low and sharp, the kind that made everyone in the room turn to stone.
Cassian’s voice, faint: “I don’t know if I’m scared or impressed or—actually, no, I’m just scared.”
Rhys looked like he wanted to bury himself in the floor. “Mother above. Take me now.”
Amren drained her glass and muttered, “I told you. We should’ve just let her kill him that day.”
Mor was wheezing, pointing at Azriel. “He’s not even pretending to be cool anymore!”
Azriel, who was now half-lost in Y/N’s hair, let out a satisfied sigh against her ear.
“Still sleeping on the couch?” he murmured.
Y/N’s voice came out breathless, dangerous.
“You’re lucky I don’t banish you to the Illyrian mountains.”
Azriel nuzzled her. “You’d miss me by sundown.”
And Y/N—poor, flustered, still-fuming Y/N—just groaned again and muttered:
“Mother help me, I would.”
The entire Inner Circle groaned in unison.
Cassian had dragged a blanket off the couch and was now dramatically wrapping himself in it, rocking back and forth on the floor like a war survivor. “They’re saying the cutest filth to each other. I can’t live like this. I can’t go on. I need therapy. I need a temple. I need to bathe in salt.”
Nesta kicked him lightly. “You’re the one who started this.”
“I didn’t know it would become a religious experience!” he shot back, clutching the blanket tighter. “He whispered ‘harder’ while being choked—I can never look him in the eyes again.”
Feyre had officially surrendered, head in Rhys’s lap as she weakly muttered, “This is our house. Our house. We have a child. A toddler. We had dinner here an hour ago.”
Rhys was staring blankly at the ceiling. “We should burn the furniture.”
Azriel had not moved.
Still straddling Y/N, his chest rising and falling a bit faster now, jaw still tingling from where she’d bitten him. His shadows rolled lazily over her hips, slipping under the hem of her shirt like they knew no shame, brushing her skin like they were claiming her all over again.
Y/N glared up at him, cheeks burning, breath coming fast.
“I will get revenge for this,” she hissed. “This humiliation. This entire performance.”
Azriel only smiled, infuriatingly calm. “Then I look forward to it.”
WHUMP.
She hit him in the chest with the pillow again.
WHUMP.
He caught it and held it there, pinning her hands beneath his, voice low.
“Or you could surrender now. I’ll go easy on you… maybe.”
Her eyes blazed.
“You want surrender?” she whispered.
And then—in front of everyone—she arched up and bit his collarbone.
Azriel made a sound that could only be described as a choked growl, his wings flaring just a bit, shadows suddenly swirling like a storm.
Mor shrieked. “OH MY GODS.”
Cassian threw the blanket over his entire head. “I’M DEAD. BURY ME WITH HONOR.”
Lucien stood up and announced, “I’m going to go walk into the Sidra and never come back.”
Elain, softly: “I didn’t even know Fae could blush that much.”
Amren just stood, hands on her hips, and said, “Someone bring the child. Let him see what he must never become.”
Azriel looked like he was this close to losing every last shred of composure. His fingers curled around Y/N’s hips, grip possessive, eyes glowing faintly gold in the low light.
Y/N’s voice was a purr now, dangerous and smug. “Still think I’m the one surrendering?”
Azriel blinked down at her—and then, in the most unbothered voice possible, purred back:
“I’m letting you win.”
Y/N howled in rage and launched the pillow at his head again.
Mor collapsed in screaming laughter.
Cassian rolled onto his side and yelled into the floor:
“WHEN THEY GET MARRIED WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE.”
Nesta, dry as bone, replied, “Good. Maybe then we’ll have peace.”
And Feyre just reached for the wine bottle with one trembling hand.
“…I need three glasses just to forget tonight even happened.”
Azriel was laughing now—an actual full-on laugh, rare and wicked and infuriatingly attractive, his head tilted back slightly as Y/N shoved at his chest again, huffing like a dragon about to breathe literal star fire.
“You’re not letting me win,” she snapped, trying to sit up—only for him to lean down again and trap her with his body, his smirk infuriatingly close.
“Oh, but I am,” he purred, his voice brushing over her skin like velvet wrapped in shadows. “Letting you think you have the upper hand… while I enjoy the view.”
Y/N’s eyes blazed. “You are unbelievable.”
“And yet…” Azriel hummed, brushing his nose lightly along her jaw, just enough to make her entire soul glitch, “you’re still under me.”
There was a pause.
And then—Y/N’s voice went low and dangerous, her accent cutting through like a blade of silk.
“Fine.”
She grinned slowly.
“Let me show you what I do to people who underestimate me.”
Everyone in the room simultaneously—
“OH MY GODS.”
Cassian, muffled under his blanket: “SHE’S GONNA DOM HIM I KNEW IT—”
Feyre was openly drinking from the wine bottle now. “Rhys, portal me to Hewn City. I’d rather deal with Keir.”
Rhys, wide-eyed, whispered, “They’re worse than us.”
Mor was gone, rolling off the couch, clutching her ribs. “I can’t. I can’t—this is the best mating bond I’ve ever witnessed—how are they not combusting?!”
Nesta gave a sharp nod. “I give them ten minutes before they disappear upstairs.”
“Five,” Amren said flatly. “Three if he says anything else in that voice.”
Lucien had left the room. Vanished. There was no trace of him. Smart man.
Azriel’s shadows coiled tighter around Y/N’s waist, amused and pleased, while she leaned up again and whispered something in his ear—inaudible to the others, but it made his breath hitch, his hands tighten around her hips, his wings flex like he was very suddenly and urgently remembering he had a mate, and that she was his.
Cassian peeked out from under his blanket. “Did she just—did she say something or—did his soul just exit his body?”
Azriel was still for a heartbeat. Two.
Then he stood.
Effortlessly. With Y/N still in his arms.
She let out a very pleased, smug hum, arms twining around his neck, chin perched on his shoulder.
“Don’t wait up,” she said sweetly over his shoulder.
Cassian dramatically fell back onto the rug. “THEY’RE LEAVING. THEY’RE DOING THE THING. ABANDON SHIP.”
Rhys, cradling a glass of wine now, muttered, “I am the High Lord. I should be able to kick people out of my house.”
“Should being the key word,” Feyre muttered, pouring herself another glass and handing one to Nesta.
Amren raised her empty glass. “May the walls stay standing.”
“Unlikely,” Mor replied, still giggling. “But we’ll have fun guessing what breaks first.”
And with that, Azriel and Y/N disappeared up the stairs, shadows curling behind them like curtains closing on a performance that had left the audience in awe, horror, and unholy amounts of secondhand arousal.
summary: the summer solstice: day court's most stunning, wild celebration. y/n wants to lose herself utterly to the sun and its offerings. as always, azriel just wants to be at her side.
tropes/warnings: 'just friends' angstville, faerie drug use, everyone wants y/n and azriel will probably combust, he acts like her bodyguard because he doesn't know how else to love her............
The whole world dripped with gold. Even the air seemed lit from within.
Y/n had been at the Solstice for hours by the time Azriel, Mor, and Cassian had arrived, already a swirl of sun-drunk joy in the impossibly wide and open field. Already with a twinkle in her eye that, for Azriel, always meant trouble.
He noticed her immediately, just as her eyes met his. She always did that, sensed it the moment he arrived anywhere. Even amidst a field of hundreds of dancing High Fae. Even with a High Lord’s hand on her bare back.
Azriel noticed, as she began running toward him, how quickly that hand was pushed away. It didn’t stop the dark worming through him, but he still noticed. Then she was in his arms, her giggle and warm breath at his ear as he picked her up and spun her around until she shrieked. He couldn’t help but grin as he set her bare feet back on the grass. For a moment, everything went still, and it was just the two of them all lit up and joyful and touching, her dark eyes so full of light it was impossible to see anything else.
Then her pretty eyes flicked to Cassian and Mor, and the party roared back to life.
“Kick your shoes off, girls,” she said, winking at Azriel and stepping backwards slowly into the fray of dancers. “It’s going to be a very long day.”
────
Centuries of practice kept Azriel’s muscles smooth, relaxed. His grip gentle on his glass of faerie wine. His small smile pleasant as he moved with the shimmering music of the Day Court.
But as his gaze drifted back to her–as it always, always did–he was seconds from snapping. She looked beautiful today. She knew it. He knew it. And so did Helion and every one of his fucking courtesans.
It had been hours since she touched him. As soon as they began to dance, she’d been whisked away by a distressingly handsome male, with a pathetic excuse for a shirt glittering over his tanned skin. Only now–several glasses of bubbling gold liquid later–she’d finally returned, tugging Helion towards them with that infuriatingly beautiful smile.
“My friends,” Helion boomed, opening his arms to crush the three of them to his chest at once. His eyes were clear and bright, but there was something off in them, something Azriel recognized. Nervous, he scanned Y/n’s eyes and was relieved to find them familiar as always.
“Is this not the best fucking party we’ve been to in years?” Y/n asked Mor, breathless and beaming. Her cheeks must be sore. Azriel’s chest glowed and ached at the same time to see her so free.
“Cool it, Y/n,” Cassian deadpanned. “It’s your head if Rhys starts hearing that his centuries-old Solstice tradition is being blasphemed.”
“It’s not the same and you know it,” said Mor, looking to Helion for agreement with her staple wide-eyes-and-smirk move. Jesus. Everyone at this fucking party was trying to bed each other.
Helion tilted his head at her, blissed out and slow, before looking down to Y/n at his side. “Of course it isn’t the same.” And then he bent down to her ear and whispered something. Azriel shadows begged to reach her, to hear. Then Y/n tilted her head back and laughed.
Cool, brother. Calm.
The voice in his head came from behind him, from where Rhys and Feyre stood slow-dancing in the grass beyond. Azriel caught Rhys’s eye. He realized he must be radiating anger with a fallen shield. He knew better. He never slipped, never snapped.
It’s alright. You’re in pain. But she’s alright. She’s happy. You need to calm down.
Azriel needed to scream at Helion, to warn him, to make sure he and every one of his courtesans knew not to even dream of touching Y/n. His shadows struggled on his skin where he’d kept them held down all day, desperate to do something, to keep her safe.
The ugly, ugly truth of it: the shadows wanted to wrap around his friend Helion’s throat.
He needed to get a fucking grip, is what he needed. Before this entire party went to shit, along with their ties to the Day Court and his friendship with Y/n, over a laugh. She was free and she was beautiful. And she was certainly not his.
Azriel downed his drink and held out his hands wordlessly to gather everyone’s empty glasses. It was time for a lap.
────
The next time he saw her she was alone, her eyes roaming the field. A woman–a friend of Meallan’s?–was speaking earnestly and drunkenly to him about the business of the Day Court healers. She could have been spilling ancient secrets and he wouldn’t have noticed. His stomach flipped. Was Y/n looking for him?
She must have been, by the way her arms went up in celebration when they locked eyes. He murmured apologies to the Fae woman, doing his best to come up with something warm and apologetic while his entire brain focused on looking reasonably casual and attractive as he walked over and leaned on the tree nearest to Y/n.
Her long hair was tangled and had fallen down from her updo. The sun had already soaked into her skin, darkening her freckles charmingly. She looked flustered and beautiful, and clearly full of protest.
“So you just go around talking to every woman but me?” she demanded dramatically.
The corners of his lips twitched. He said nothing, just took her in.
“Spit it out,” she rolled her eyes. “What do you have to say for yourself about this?”
“I know that foot is itching to stomp.” He couldn’t resist. He broke out in the wide, boyish grin that belonged to her.
She let out a gust of air and planted, ungracefully, in the grass. She resembled a disgruntled child. “Well, I came over here with a beautiful plan just for my very best friend, but I certainly understand that he may be busy wooing over the Day Court.” Her eyes looked up mischievously at his.
The hypocrite. It was her feet, always, everywhere, that the Courts swooned over. His hand on her bare back. He sank down, leaning his weight on the tree until he was sitting with her on the warm dirt and grass. The music remained lively and loud but the crowd felt far away.
It was easier not to look too long at her skimpy, golden little dress when they were on the same level. Wonder what High Lord provided her with that ambitious piece of string, he thought with a wave of irritation.
“You weren't exactly knocking on my door, Y/n. But shall we be resentful or shall we make up and have fun?” he asked her. Not his girl but his best, best friend. Whom he had missed, whom he missed every day they spent apart.
It was the right thing to say. Her grin widened, and she paused, pretending to think. “I say we make up and have a little adventure. Just us.” That terrible, no good, beautiful twinkle was back in her eye. Whatever came next, he was fucked.
He leaned in. “You think so?” he asked lowly.
Last week, Cassian had made fun of Azriel for the sheer joy on his face when she’d asked him to play a round of cards. Every time it was a miracle. Every day of their lives that she wanted something of him. Whatever it was she wanted.
So he tried very hard to act only reasonably intrigued.
Y/n nodded. “I have just the thing, too.”
She opened her hand.
He’d just begun shaking his head when she crawled in front of him, her free hand over his mouth and her other hand now tucked behind her back, light shining through her fingers. “Don’t say no.” Her eyes were serious, so close to his face. “Just don’t say no yet.”
“No,” he attempted to get out through her fingers.
She sat back on her knees. It was one of his favorite sights, the focused face she made when she was trying to strategize how to get her way with him. Her brows furrowed up and her lip chewed, seriously, as though the matter was of critical importance and the next steps delicate.
“What if–,” she began.
“No,” he interrupted, clear now without her hand on his lips. He was smiling, he couldn’t help it, but he also wasn’t going to sacrifice her safety for an adventure. “You know it isn’t…”
She rolled her eyes, and he trailed off, sparing her the safety speech she knew by heart, and always hated. His heart twinged at the momentary loss of that twinkle. He knew he could be too serious, too much of a stickler for staying vigilant when it came to her.
“Fine. Okay. For the record, you do plenty of drugs when you're out with Cassian and Rhys,” she said, exasperated. “But it’s fine not to want to do them with me.”
Was she disappointed? Had he upset her? Just us, she had said. She wanted that with him, laying out in the sun for the rest of this endless day, living in a world only the two of them were in. He pictured touching her hand with his as the world glowed around them. He sunk into his resolve. He couldn’t put her at risk, couldn’t afford to fall from his role as her protector. That was all he had to give her.
He’d give up everything but that.
“Okay,” she said again, standing up, and he realized he’d ignored what she’d said. He opened his mouth to fix it, standing up in a flash, but before he could blink her pretty pink mouth was opening and closing around a small hole of light.
He stared at her blankly. She stared back. He heard a crunch, and looked down at her lips.
His heart pounded, in remorse at their lost sparkling unity under a changed sun. Then in worry, in fear, at the amount she’d just taken alone. She shouldn’t have taken that much. She might–
Calmly, without blinking, Y/n let her jaw drop just barely. She extended her tongue, just slightly, and Azriel saw it: a tiny half-ring glint on her tongue.
His cock twitched. He pulled in a sharp, deep breath, unable to take his eyes away from her mouth. Now he understood. He would pick. She’d swallow it all, or he’d take his half.
From her? He tore his eyes towards her own, not without effort. Her eyes were raised, the twinkle back. His stomach dropped, instincts swarming his body at once, and he leaned forward slowly, watching her all the while. Slowly, so slowly it hurt, he tilted his head and leaned forward. His tongue met hers for one brief, electric moment. Light exploded inside him, almost unbearable, as he lingered on her tongue for a second too long.
And then he took her gift into his mouth and leaned back. She was too clever for her own good. And it looked like he would pay the price.
a/n: Part 2 coming! This is my first acotar fanfic <3
"What do you do when you're chosen for someone, but not chosen by them?"
Read an important author note here 🖤
⚠️ Content Warnings & Reader Advisory: This is a story about love that wounds before it heals. About a bond refused, a heart that breaks, and the slow, merciless path to forgiveness.
Contains: psychological trauma • panic episodes • dissociation • suppressed memories • grief and complicated mourning • abandonment wounds • emotional neglect • self-worth fracturing • bond-induced distress • magical volatility • violent magical injuries • blood, gore, and bodily harm (no self-inflicted harm) • cursed constructs • death-magic residue • predatory fixation (supernatural) • stalking (interrogation-aligned purposes) • interrogation scenes (canon-aligned) • torture ramifications • political coercion • manipulation and surveillance • rare-magic targeting • near-death experience • terror response • dark obsession • possessiveness (mutual, slow surrender) • morally gray decisions • morally black decisions • alcohol as emotional numbing • feral violence (Azriel-coded) • unhealthy coping mechanisms • romantic/sexual tension • consensual sexual content (late, intense, emotional) • dominant/submissive power play (consensual, earned) • kink elements (introduced slowly) • dark romance themes: ruin-me tenderness, “I’d burn the world for you,” dangerous devotion, and the slow unmaking of emotional walls.
For readers who crave the ache of a slow burning dark romance—the kind that splinters before it softens, and loves you back only after it’s destroyed you first. For the ones who learned that love is not gentle—
but still reached for it anyway 🔥
You were Made to heal. He was born to destroy.
When a mortal-born Made healer with evolving magic joins the Night Court, she expects to find purpose, not a mating bond with the Shadowsinger who looks at her like she’s the one mistake he can’t afford to make. So he refuses it.
And the refusal doesn’t break the bond—
it breaks you both.
Now your magic is changing. The Courts are watching. Day and Dawn whisper your name. And every danger circling you pulls Azriel closer to the one truth he’s terrified to face:
He never didn’t want you.
He just didn’t want to want you.
And even more dangerous: He’s already yours.
*If you’re an auditory person, I’ve also compiled a Spotify playlist that helped inspire this idea/that I listen to while I write. If you’d like it, here it is 🖤
summary: These are my headcanons for some of the ACOTAR men as Daddy Doms, featuring Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Eris, Tamlin, Lucien, and some bonus character drabbles at the end! (Helion, Kallias, and Tarquin)
word count: 4k in total, each character is under 1k
author's note: This was not self-indulgent at allllll nooo. If you’ve read my stardew fics you’ll know I’m a big fan of this one. If this kink isn’t your thing, please do not read! All characters are adults in this fic. If there is a character you don’t like, please just don’t read them. This took a lotttt of time for me to make :) Hope y'all enjoy and freak with me.
Warnings: Pretty much everything in the tags below, use of term daddy, use of term s/ut, degrading, knife use (no blood), some dubcon (alcohol)
[Tags: Reader is an ADULT female, DDLG dynamic, d/s, male control, exhibition, brat taming, face sitting, overstim, shadow play, very public sex, squirting mention, light degradation, primal, chasing, drunk/sober power play, eating out, forced orgasm, sharing partner, breeding, praise]
⊹ Masterlist ⊹
Headcanons | Next ->
Rhysand | Rules and Punishments
Being Rhys’s sub is a lifestyle. He’s the type to have your outfits picked out for you each day, a combination of things you bought for yourself with his credit card, and some things he just had to see you in. He cares about appearances, and he needs his girl dressed to the nines whenever he takes you on his arm through the streets of Velaris.
Disobeying Rhys earns you fast punishment. He understands that sometimes you want to test your boundaries, but he’s quick to nip that in the bud before you start believing you can act as you please. He’ll have you bent over the nearest semi-private surface, fucking you to tears until he’s certain it won’t happen again.
If friends are around when you break the rules, though, he has no qualms with letting them watch. After all, it's very inappropriate to embarrass him like that, so you must have wanted them to see you having your behavior corrected.
“Darling, I thought I asked you to change before Cas and Az got here.”
You held out a little tray of sandwiches, an assortment of cucumber and ham and cheese. It was Guys Night tonight. This morning, Rhys had laid out two outfits for you. One was a more modest sundress for when the boys came to visit, the other was a sexy little skirt he loved to see you in. You had forgotten to change, but you hoped your thoughtful behavior would distract him.
“I forgot to change, I was busy making these for you,” you said with a sweet smile.
Rhysand’s shoes clicked across the dark wood floor of the Townhouse as he approached you. He took the tray of food and set it aside, his hands immediately falling to your hips. Your frilly skirt was short. Far too short for company.
“What do you think?” He asked his friends, eyes never leaving your barely concealed plush thighs. You hadn’t realized they were here yet. You thought you still had time…
Cassian and Az stepped out of the shadowy hall and into the cozy den, eyes on your smooth legs and wide hips.
“I think it's downright scandalous,” Cassian said, unhelpful as always.
“I’m sorry,” you cut in, trying to silence Cas.
“Ah, ah, ah. Hush. You know the rules. When I ask you to do something, you do it.”
“I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.”
“Sorry isn’t good enough, baby, Daddy needs to know you understand him.” With easy strength, Rhys had you bent over the arm of the couch in seconds, broad hand pinning your face into the navy fabric. The two Illyrian males lurking in the room chuckled as he drew up the back of your little skirt. You knew they were aware of your… dynamic with Rhys, but this was something else entirely.
“I don’t even have to take it off of you, that’s how short this skirt is,” Rhys murmured darkly as he tugged your panties down with one hand, the other already unzipping himself. “You must have really wanted our attention, hm?”
“No, Daddy, I didn’t, I swear…” The sound dragged from your lips, warping into a moan as Rhysand filled your pussy in one thrust.
Somewhere in the background, Azriel sucked in a breath at the sight, and Cassian laughed wickedly. You quickly lost track of them, though, as Rhysand began to thrust. The couch scratched across the floor with every movement of his strong hips, likely leaving scuffs, but he would show them off with pride.
Rhysand thrust harder and hit your spot dead on, drawing out a squeal from you. “Oh, she likes that,” Rhys said with a smug little laugh, one hand digging into your hip to hold you steady while the other gripped the nape of your neck, forcing you to take it. “Loves being put in her place in front of company.”
“I don’t,” you insisted, your little voice coming out quiet and muffled.
“Yeah, you do, your sweet pussy is dripping on the couch, baby. You better not cum…”
“I’m gonna,” you moaned.
“Should I let her?” Rhys’s grin was devilish as Azriel denied you.
“No, only good girls get to cum,” Az said, watching intently.
Rhysand leaned over your body to whisper in your ear as you trembled. “Maybe next time you’ll listen to Daddy.”
Cassian | Brat Taming
Cassian loves it when you push his buttons. He loves a good tease, feeling you touch him right before he goes out to train, giving him a hard on to deal with before he can go out there. He loves hearing you talk smack about how you’re bigger and stronger than him, even when you walk around utterly dwarfed by his broad shoulders and even broader wings.
He lets you talk smack up until you’ve pushed just a little too far, until no combination of innocent blushing and smiling can take back what you’ve said. That’s when he puts you in your place.
Cassian isn’t afraid to manhandle you into a mess of broken moans, fucking you until you’re singing his praises again and completely aware of your place. He knows how to make a bad girl want to be good, just to be rewarded with the rough fucking you wanted all along.
“Is that what you call a parry? Azriel’s blade nearly sliced you in half.”
“Did not,” Cassian called back, teeth bared in a snarl. The two Illyrians had been going back and forth at each other all day, sweating through their leathers, and you knew Cassian would not be in the mood for you. You just couldn’t help yourself.
“Have you tried actually hitting him? I hear that’s the easiest way to win.” You smiled smugly as he finally conceded the win, dropping his sword into the dusty training dirt.
Azriel held his hand out, shaking Cassian’s. Cassian smiled at his friend, taking the loss… remarkably well.
He turned toward you at the edge of the ring, stalking over to you. You were so distracted by the sweaty gleam of his muscled arms that you didn’t notice the look on his face. Angry, and maybe just a little hungry for you.
“That was pathetic- ah!”
Wordlessly, he scooped you into his arms, wings stirring up dust as he leapt into the sky, flying you back to the House of Wind.
“Cassian-”
“You’re a brat, you know that…” he muttered, carrying you straight to his bedroom.
“Duh…” you drawled. Your confidence only sparked his ire, and Cassian dropped you to your feet before shucking off his leathers. Mmm, he was gorgeous.
“Well?” he asked, leaning back on the bed.
“Well what?” You blinked, not quite understanding.
“Go on. You clearly want to be in control, telling me how to fight, pretending you know everything… so take control.”
Your eyes widened, cheeks going bright red as he lay there before you, cock hard and thick and standing proud. “You want me to-?”
“Yeah, come here and show me who’s boss.” He pointed to his face, his long hair splaying out around him as he lay back on the bed, wanting you to sit.
You didn’t move, frozen in place. You thought after all that he would be eager to pound you into the bed until you drooled, not… prove a point. Cassian smirked as you stood there. “What, not so high and mighty now, huh?
“No, Daddy…” you mumbled quietly, face completely red.
“That’s what I thought. Now come sit on my fucking face, little brat.”
You crawled onto the bed and his big hands lifted you by the waist as soon as you were in range. He settled you onto his face, his full lips slotting themselves against your clit as he began to lick and suck eagerly.
“Cas-”
“I know,” he said against your folds, breath caressing your sensitive skin. “You want this cock, huh?”
“Yes, Daddy…”
He slid a long finger into your entrance, curling it slowly. “Say please and maybe I’ll fuck you after I stretch you out."
Azriel | Overstimulation
Azriel may be quiet, but he certainly won’t rest until you’re anything but. He loves pushing you to every limit until you’re crying for him to stop, the pleasure much too intense for your body. Every plea for a break that he feels you haven’t earned only adds another orgasm to the tally.
And not only he feels this way, no, his shadows love seeing you fall apart. As an extension of Azriel, they naturally agree with his feelings, but they are somehow even more possessive and twisted than he is.
If you squirm before finishing your third orgasm, they’ll pin your legs apart for Az, keeping you wide open to his touch. If he’s busy fucking you, they’ll take care of your other sensitive spots, coiling around your nipples and suckling your clit until you scream.
“Not again, please, Az,”
“That’s one more.”
“Please, Daddy,” you corrected quickly, but the damage was done.
Azriel pinched your clit gently, a warning of what was to come. He loved watching you like this, frantic and mindless with pleasure, especially when you could focus on nothing else but his touch.
His shadows had settled over your eyes to block out the rest of his bedroom, where you stood pinned to the wall. Every drag of Az’s warm fingers up your hips and beneath your breasts tingled more than usual now that you were blind and unsteady.
“You can take it, I know you can. Just one more.”
“I can’t…”
“You’ve taken more than this before,” Az said, pressing teasing kisses to your clit. You had never hated being blinded quite as much as right now.
Pinned to the wall with Azriel kneeling before you… fuck, you wanted to see him. “You’re so cruel.”
“Cruel? I’ve let you cum twice, I think that’s pretty kind of me.”
“You made me cum twice…”
“I think that’s the same thing.”
“It’s not- ngh-” you whined as a cool, soft substance traced up your leg, dipping inside your cunt to curl inside you. “Fuck.”
Azriel hummed with pleasure. His shadow curled deeper into your core, searching for the sweet spots that made your eyes roll back. It seemed to purr as your cunt twitched and fluttered around it. “It seems they’re just as excited to see you melt…”
You gasped as Azriel licked up your clit, your temporary reprieve now over. You tried to pull your hands free, but they were secure. Silk-lined metal cuffs looped them above your head, where one of Azriel’s sickening seven inch knives pierced the metal into the drywall. Yeah, you weren’t getting free.
Sweat dripped down the back of your neck as he began to eat you out in earnest. Legs shaking, you struggled to keep yourself standing with every pass of his tongue over your swollen bud. His shadows became relentless, the one inside you tracing over your cervix and pushing against your walls.
“One more, baby, give Daddy one more.”
Eris | Exhibition
Allowing Eris to take on the role of being your dom would be an utter mistake. He’s far too cocky for it to be a secret. It starts with telling his men, until you hear whispers from the knights every time you pass by. A few weeks down the line he’s got you sitting half-naked on his lap while he lounges in his throne.
He doesn’t mind other people seeing what’s his. He wants everyone to know how beautiful you are, and just how pathetic you are for him. Every squirm cues another comment about how slutty you look. You’re desperate, and he knows it.
And if you’re that desperate, what’s stopping him from spreading you open right there in the throne room? He wouldn’t want his sweet little girl to suffer any longer…
“Behave, pet.”
“I’m trying,” you whispered. The dress you were wearing could hardly be called a dress. It was merely two swaths of fabric, curving down from your shoulders and over your breasts. It was only held in place between your thighs by an ever so thin gold belt. Gold, and red fabric. Eris always had you dressed in Autumn’s colors. His colors, now.
After killing Beron, he had seized you as his own, even before he had seized his lands.
“Trying to grind on me will get you punished, you know.” Eris rested his chin lazily against his palm, his other hand firmly gripping your hip. You couldn’t help but move, you were right on his cock. You felt it harden beneath your soft, barely clothed rear, but Eris remained apathetic toward your desperate wriggling.
He shifted, sitting up straight, but his eyes did not leave the crowded ballroom before him. You gasped he pulled a knife from his boot and snapped the thin gold band holding your dress together.
“Eris-”
“Hold still.”
You dropped your hands from where they had reached to clutch the fabric of your garment. In seconds, the yards of suede freed your breasts to the viewing pleasure of the ballroom.
A few males stopped dancing, but Eris waved a hand. “Continue.”
His command was firm. The dancing resumed, but more than a few stares still lingered on your body. They were drawn right to your thighs, where Eris was easily pulling them open.
“You’ve risked so much in disobeying me, I have to reward your efforts.”
“No-”
“Address me properly, or I’ll finger you until you squirt all over my throne.”
You mewled like a kitten as his thumb found your clit beneath a stretch of cloth. “Mmm sorry, Daddy…”
“And?”
“Thank you, Daddy.”
“You’re such a stupid slut.” His fingers sped up just a bit, rolling at the perfect pace to have your muscles locking up. You shut your eyes to the hungry stares that came from every corner of the ballroom as two of Eris’s long fingers delved into your pussy, tightening on your spot.
“Eris, please-”
“I’m not stopping until they see you cum~”
Tamlin | Primal
Tamlin as a daddy dom would be soft with you one moment, and absolutely rabid for you the next. As a shapeshifter, he’s always in tune with his beast form, claws falling out the second he smells your arousal in the air.
He’s terribly gentle when you need him to be. He’s not shy about fucking you on your period or through your mood swings, and he knows how to give it to you slowly, coaxing out your pleasure over the span of hours.
Sometimes, though, he just can’t control himself. After hours of staying up with courtly business, just seeing you walk past him is enough to get his blood pumping. And if you run? He’ll chase you down. Through the halls of his massive manor, out and into the prim and pretty gardens, especially through the woods he knows like the back of his clawed hand.
“Sweetheart, what are you doing up?”
Tamlin's eyes flashed from within the dim light of his study, the green of his irises nearly simmering gold with magic.
“I couldn’t sleep, Daddy,” you said, a quiet whine for him. You had gone to bed in his nightshirt, missing the feel of him in bed. The long billowy fabric was nearly a dress on your body, his own stature making you look like a little doll in comparison.
He tilted his head up, scenting the lilac and fresh rain that clung to you. Instantly he was rising from his seat, the quill in his hand splattering onto his desk in a little puddle of ink. “Fuck, sweetheart… you smell like me.”
The warm faelight lamp behind him gilded his body, and you could see the silhouette of his claws slowly dropping free. He was careful not to hurt you, not unless you asked, but the sight of them was a sign that his desire was brewing.
You backed up a bit, and he stopped in his tracks. “Darling?”
As quickly as you could, you scampered out of his office space. Darting down the hall, you could only hope Tamlin would give you a headstart. A low growl echoing from down the hall was his affirmative.
Your bones trembled with delight at the sound. Tamlin’s voice was low and loud, only growing closer as you twisted through the winding corridors of the west wing. If you could make it to the ballroom, then you could lose him.
“Little Bunny~” he sang. His voice was perfectly steady, the complete opposite of your pathetic panting. Making it to the ballroom? You wouldn’t even last five minutes. “Gotcha.” A startled squeak escaped from you as Tamlin turned a corner in front of you, somehow having looped around to cut you off. “Did you really think you would get anywhere? Daddy always catches you.”
Tamlin threw you over his shoulder, towing you to the bed you were supposed to be sleeping in. “Naughty girl. Don't worry, you’ll be sleepy when I’m done with you.”
He carefully slid you down and into bed, nesting you in the thick downy blankets as he bullied his way between your soft thighs. His cock was hard, the broad tip leaking for you as he ducked down to lick up your neck. His nose was in your hair, then up against your soft skin. Any place within reach.
“I’m gonna fuck you so good, you’ll never rid my scent from your body.”
Lucien | Drinking
Lucien would love making a mess of you with his charm. His roots are as a rake, and even though he’s settled down, he’ll never stop trying to make you blush as red as his hair. He loves bringing you to parties, flaunting you on his arm, and he also loves seeing you enjoy yourself. You’re so easy to fluster, it becomes a game to see how quickly he can have you begging to sneak off.
Part of his routine in enjoying a party with you might be turning a blind eye to how many drinks you’ve had. Lucien can’t help himself, you’re just so cute when you’re drunk and needy and hanging all over him, blushing at simple eye contact.
Once he’s gotten you alone, Lucien is all over you, feeding you pleasure until you can’t even form a sentence. His words are always full of praise, letting you know just how good you are, even if you can’t stand up straight.
“You can barely stand, love, we need to get you to bed.”
“I’m not tired.”
Lucien laughed at the way you poked your bottom lip out, just coherent enough to remember to sass him. A gentle hand cupped your cheek as he kissed it away. “Don’t be difficult, you know what going to bed early means.”
Your head snapped up, cheeks flushing as you gave him a giddy, lovestruck smile.
“Cute,” he said with a grin, half carrying you up the stairs and out of the throng of revelers. “We need to put a limit on how much faerie wine you’re allowed to have.” He gently tickled your sides, coaxing out a bubbly giggle. “On second thought, I don’t know if I could go without hearing your laughs.”
Lucien held you up as you crashed through the doorway, managing to bump into nearly every surface on the way to your shared bed.
“In you go.” You tumbled into bed and Lucien sat on the edge. He lifted your feet into his lap tracing the arch of the elegant kitten heels you had on. “My poor love, you must be sore.”
His deft hands unbuckled the strap of your shoes and he slid them off, pressing his thumbs to the arches of your feet to help you relax.
“Mm… feels good…”
“Does it?” Lucien pressed a soft kiss to your ankle, then carefully propped you up to peel off your silky dress. “Bet I could make you feel really good…”
The dress pooled in a pile at the foot of the bed, Lucien not pausing to fold it as he spread your legs out before him and dove underneath the covers. Your muddled mess of a head couldn’t understand what was happening, not until the flat of his tongue traced up your inner thigh.
“Ah!” Your yelp had him chuckling as he left love bites along your skin. “Gentle. Please, Daddy.”
“Well, when you ask me so sweetly…” Lucien’s warm breath grazed your folds as he kissed along the seam of your cunt.
“Not that gentle…”
“You’re awfully demanding tonight.” But he obliged you. His tongue dipped to circle your clit as he worked you to the edge. “My pretty girl.”
Bonus!
Helion | Sharing
Helion loves you far too much for his own good, and that means knowing exactly what you need, and what to give to you. He’s not the kind to turn down a night of fun, especially not when you look so adorable smushed between him and his men.
“Doesn’t he feel so good inside you?” Helion crooned, cupping your pretty, blissed out face in his hand. “You look so pretty taking your third load.”
“I need you, Daddy…”
His golden eyes glinted with mischief as he brushed tangles of hair back from your sweaty forehead. You had been like this, on your hands and knees on the floor of the training room, for well over an hour now. “You need me? I guess your mouth is still available…”
Helion knelt before you, powerful thighs blocking out the view of the sweaty, hungry figures surrounding you. You could only see him, dark gold skin and proud, heavy cock as he knelt in front of your face.
“Make Daddy feel good then, needy girl.”
Kallias | Breeding
Kallias’s first concern as a high lord has always been the children of his court, caring more about their safety than his own. He would love being a father, and would especially love the process of becoming one with your help. Even if you couldn’t have kids together, there’s just something about seeing you so full of him every night that drives him wild.
“Look at that,” Kallias growled, carefully pulling a little crystal plug from your used up pussy. His icy blue eyes traced your body, watching the steady dripping of his seed from inside you. “Kept it nice and warm for me, didn’t you, little love?”
“Yes, Daddy,” you chirped proudly. His long fingers slid through the sticky mess between your thighs until you purred.
“Are you ready for another round?”
“Another-?” That would be the third time this evening. Fucking like animals was the best way to ward off the mountain cold, but already you were sore…
“I’m not stopping until I see you with a cute little bump.”
Tarquin | Praise
Tarquin would take his role as your daddy dom so seriously. He will make sure that you never have to worry about feeling insecure again, that you are loved and taken care of at all times. Not only does he take care of you, he spoils you rotten.
“My love… you know you can’t wear something like that around me and expect me to be able to work.”
Yeah, that was kind of the point. He had been ignoring you all day. Not on purpose, of course, he had to do his job as the High Lord well. For your benefit, and for the benefit of your people. But he needed to learn how to take a break sometimes.
You perched on his desk, your soft rear almost completely exposed by the thin lingerie you had put on. “Pay attention to me now.”
He laughed, sitting back in his chair with an amused grin. He patted his lap. “Come sit, pretty girl. Let Daddy look at you.”
That was his mistake. Instantly you were straddling his lap, making sure to wiggle softly against his growing bulge.
“I should have known better than to leave you to your own devices for that long. Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
The High Lords' meeting proved that Sjm doesn't know how to write politics. What do you mean a ruler, his wife and his family / advisors (Rhysand, Feyre, the inner circle) insult other rulers, attack the wife of a High Lord, and nobody cares about it. The attack on LoA should have been a declaration of war. Like, even after the greater threat (Hybern) was taken care of, Night and Autumn should have been at war. Or, at least, there should have been consequences.
Take an example from history. Roman senators assassinated Julius Caesar. What happened? Those loyal to Caesar started a civil war against the assassins. Those senators were forced to flee Rome, some took their own lives after being defeated, and those who were still alive after a couple of years were granted amnesty after a peace treaty.
But what are the consequences of what the Night Court did at the meeting? It seems that there are none, especially as all the High Lords resuscitated Rhys at the end of the war. Where is the logic in that?
