#Rhysand blurb

[solbaby7]

Hiii, can I get a margarita with a salt rim on the rocks, please? Thank you!💕

[ “got a mouth on you. someone should teach you how to use it.” + smut + rhysand ]

-> BLURB BAR <-

Rhysand liked wild things—had this affinity for collecting strays; plucking them from their prisons and providing a life of freedom and luxury.

Maybe that’s why he’s so drawn to you. This rabid animal of a thing with a serious aversion to proper clothing and absolutely no regard for others personal boundaries. “Back for more charity work?”

“Is that how you think of my visits? I’m hurt.”

You look down at him with amusement, crouched low on a branch with a skirt so short it takes effort not to stare. “We both know you aren’t,” You make tree climbing look easy, bare toes trodding across branches that don’t look sturdy but hold strong bearing your weight. “What’d you bring me this time?”

Rhysand dangles the wicker basket before him with two fingers. He’s teasing, offering; luring you in closer as the laws of the Middle insists that its lands and the creatures in it must welcome you and not the other way around. “Come see for yourself, trouble.”

He’s grown fond of the wild way you move, confidently twisting and ducking through the forestry—the breathable linen of your strapless top flows with the breeze. Handmade necklaces kiss at your clavicle, all braided leather with bleached bones, carefully woven shells and shiny geodes. Once you get close enough he can see the neat braids peeking through loose strands, interwoven thread adding pops of color in haphazard places. “More naughty words on paper,” You chuff out when the weight of two books sits in your hands. The pages are pristine; probably first addition and perfectly cared for. “Always knew you High Lords were just pampered perverts.”

“Didn’t seem to bother you when you read the last two I brought you.”

Rhysand is sure he’ll have dreams about the pretty blush on your cheeks. He’s certain fantasies have planted their seed with intent to grow and grow like fucking ivy until nothing in sight could be see but you and that feisty furrow of your brow and the sharp roll of your eyes. Curious hands dig around the basket, sifting through cured meats and cheeses, parchment paper and oil pastels, rich fabrics and a case full of fresh sewing needles. “You trying to turn me into a fucking housewife or something? Charcuterie boards and fixing the buttons on your rich boy clothes.”

“Got a mouth on you.” Rhys chuckles in amusement, aubergine irises twinkling with silent adoration. “Someone should teach you how to use it.” You don’t seem the slightest bit ashamed when forcing him to hold onto your things, urging him to follow with a jerky nod of your head. “Could start by saying thank you.”

“Make me.”

Something in the air shifts. It alters the way he stands. Awakens a creature lurking in his shadow and its sights lock on you—the female with no fear of monsters. No, instead you hunt them, wrangle them up and tame them. Rabid beasts crooned into fucking house pets and Rhysand yearned to be the stray you took pity on. “Make you use your mouth properly? Or make you say thank you?”

“Both.” He’s hooked; shoes sinking into your footsteps until thick forestry breaks into a clearing with a house built smack dab in the middle. It’s surrounded by flowers, lavender and lemongrass guarding hand built basins labeled with fresh produce to fend off freeloading animals. Ivy creeps up one side of the greenhouse attached to the back. “Show me how to do it like they do in the books you bring me.”

Is it possible for a mouth to dry up and salivate at once? Because Rhys suddenly finds his in an odd mix of something in between. You barely notice the clumsy way he sets aside your basket of goodies but you’re fully aware of the eager way he pulls you in, stopping you from taking a step further. “You sure you know what you’re asking for?”

You scan the length of him, running over the strong set of his shoulders and the practiced ease in the way his arms rest at his sides. Every breath strains against the soft cotton of his shirt, solid muscle radiating warmth when you rest the palm of your hand against it. It’s a slow drag down and you feel no shame for your curiosity when exploring the length of his abdomen, fingers hooking in the loop of his belt. “I’ve got a pretty good idea.” The metallic click of his belt unbuckling, the sharp undoing of tied dress pants. “But, I’m a visual learner.” Rhys’ heart throbs in his chest when you sink to your knees, blood rushing lower until the true extent of his affection towards you is standing at attention in your face.

“I can help with that,” He’s already easing down the top of your shirt, groaning at the sight of bare breasts and pebbled nipples. “Though, my teaching style is a little more…hands on.”

You don’t have time to ask what that means when he’s giving you exactly what you asked for; tugging down his pants just enough to show off a throbbing erection, ruddy tip leaking pre-cum. Two fingers tap at your cheek twice and you have no control over the way your mouth drops open.

He knows he’s being a little rougher than he should—it’s probably your first time giving head and yet he can’t slow down his movements. You don’t even complain, breathing through the way his cock is fed to you, spit glistening along the length and dribbling down your chin. “Quick learner, aren’t you?” Rhys praises so prettily, such nice words spewing free as if he wasn’t rutting his prick down your throat.

Thumbs clear away the tears from under your eyes when you gag. The rasp of his voice urging you to work harder, to hollow your cheeks and run your tongue along that vein that has blunt nails digging into the nape of your neck. Swears spill in a sloppy slur, hands guiding the bob of your head until his release shoots down your throat with a choked grunt.

There’s no way you don’t look a mess when you peer up at him. Fucked out eyes. Tears tracking down your cheeks. Bruised lips. A wet patch dripping down your chest and still you utter the words, “Thank you.”

Just perfection and something inside him screams ‘mine’ the same time Rhysand replies with a breathless, “You’re welcome.”

[mxtantrights]

day court!reader has a secret meeting

"So you're saying you were the reason fifty female Illyrians suddenly vanished from camp?"

You roll your eyes, "If they hadn't left they would have been killed, or had their wings clipped. Which I hear is equal."

Someone clears their throat. You look over at the other side of the room. It's Cassian. He's eyeing both Rhysand and Azriel. He nods his head over to the corner. The two of them walk over and meet him.

As if you weren't in the room. You roll your eyes again.

"I'm right here." you say.

They break from their huddle and look at you.

"Okay, so the man you're looking for. Is he bad?" Rhysand asks.

"I don't know." you answer.

"Well that doesn't help matters." Rhysand says.

"It's not an exact thing. I just have to find him. Once I do, it just comes together." you explain, with as much detail as you can.

The last time this happened you were ten years younger. And you had no clue what you were doing. All you knew was you saw the image of a man in your dreams.

His dark hair. The tips of his wings on his back. The scar that went from his neck down to hie chest.

You did your own digging and tracked a possible match to the night court. Wings meant Illyrian. And sure enough you poked around enough to find the man.

What you found, you didn't like. So you took it upon yourself to just make sure that you had proof he was up to no good. But it wasn't enough to just prove that he was a bad man.

He had planned to clip the wings of fifty females. And you couldn't exactly wait for justice. So you took matters into your own hands.

This new dream, this new man, seems different though. For some reason he reminded you of Helion.

"Could you describe him?" Cassian ass.

"Sure, he had long hair. Red. Brownish eyes, or eye. One of them is scarred. I'm not sure what the color of that one is." you divulge.

You watch as all three of their faces seem to slowly pale. They know who you're describing. They know the man from your dreams. You walk up to them quickly.

"Your faces, you know who it is!" you say.

"Well," Cassian starts.

But Rhysand smacks his head. Cassian stops talking. They look at each other, no doubt talking in their minds. But Azriel, he's looking right at you.

"Lucien." he says.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Blurbs

A/N: okay, I feel really bad about this but I’m quite exhausted, so these are just four short blurb-type things! Again, I’m so sorry they aren’t longer!

Below, you will find:

Training + Azriel Predator Play + Tamlin Sleepy mornings + Rhys Drunk Night In + Mor

Training session w/ Azriel

In The Shadows by The Rasmus

Steel meets steel. Sparks fly.

Sweat drips down your brow as his blade scrapes over your own, bones screaming with the effort of holding him off.

Azriel says nothing, just as invested as you as he flips his Illyrian fighting blade deftly, a move designed to intimidate—works pretty well. His eyes are sharp and focused, honed just like his blade.

Tendrils of misty air puff from your lips, curling in the crisp morning air, summer yielding to autumn, frost nipping at your sweat slicked skin.

You barely have the time to tense before he’s going on the attack again, surging forward and knocking at your weak side. He uses his size and weight to his advantage, crashing into you, and you stumble. He senses it, knows he’s caught you in a moment of weakness, and pounces.

Your feet fumble beneath you, legs numb and thighs trembling as he manages to tip you backward. Bone meets rock and you’re winded, air whooshing from your lungs with such force you forget how to breathe.

He flips the blade in his hands, before the pommel is slamming down. You have enough room to roll to the side before it meets the stone, the clang reverberating up his arm—he doesn’t even wince.

“Woah! Okay! Time out!” You gasp, barely dodging away before he has you pinned to the ground. He’s so close you can pick out the green in his hazel eyes, the early morning lighting them with glorious colour. His gaze rakes over your features, devouring each dip and line with starving hunger. As if seeing you for the first time.

“You were distracted.” It’s not a question but you know he’s curious. You shake your head, still panting, secretly revelling in his warmth against the chill morning. “Didn’t sleep too well,” you answer honestly. Well, omitting a little part of the nature of your dream, but that’s neither here nor there.

His eyes narrow on you and you’re worried he’ll see through your omission, but instead he stands, extending his hand as he pulls you up. “One more. Then we rest.”

You groan—it’s going to be one of those day. But, well, you can’t say no to him with your heart beating the way it is. Not with the challenge gleaming in his eyes.

Tamlin + predator play

Ring the alarm by Anna Blue

Your heart pounds in your chest, blood coating your skin, slicking your clothes from the hunt. Breaths rip from your raw throat, panting even as it stings to do so.

The moon is a silver slice through the inky sky, but there’s no time to admire its beauty, you can feel how close he is on your trail.

A twig snaps and you can hear his paws thud on the ground, roots and vines trembling and pulsing as their Lord races for you.

Your brow narrows but there’s no time to consider how he’s found you. One leg in front of the other, arms propelling you forward as you jump to the peak of a rock, leaping into the air. Arms stretch out to catch on a branch but he slams into you, knocking you in mid air, pinning you to the ground

You writhe and struggle but he keeps you locked beneath him. His golden fur gleams like gilded fabric beneath the silver moon, ethereal despite this beastly form.

Vines shackle your waist, tangling around your arms as he takes you prisoner, pulling back, shifting into a more recognisable form.

Lips pull back from gleaming white teeth as he gives you a feral smile—the ones that come out when he’s had a satisfying hunt. All it takes is that grin, and you know the night’s long from over. Glad for it not to be.

His power courses through you and you feel fur coating your skin, fangs protruding from your upper lip, claws curling into the ground as he transforms you. You meet his adrenaline dilated gaze, hunger blazing in their vivid green depths.

How could you refuse a look like that?

With a grin of your own, and a taunting snarl, you’re bounding away, skittering deep into the forest.

He gives you a head start before his roar shakes the leaves of the trees—he’s coming to find you.

Sleepy morning w/ Rhys

I love you 3000 by Jackson Wang

The sunlight warms your skin, softened by sleep.

His scent is all around you, and you’re smiling before you open your eyes. Stunning violet fills your world and you melt further under the sheets.

“Morning,” you mumble, nose scrunching as you give him a grin. He smiles, pressing his forehead to your own. “Morning,” he replies, voice deep and rough with disuse. His arms sliding around and beneath your waist, keeping you pressed against his front.

The two of you are utterly bare, skin on skin, and you’d have it no other way. It’s the best way to awaken, being able to feel him so entirely, knowing he’s so completely yours.

Your arms move over his shoulders as you roll him onto his back, stomach pressing to his. You shuffle further up his body, breasts softly pushing into his chest as you put a kiss to his lips.

Fingers tangle in his blue-black hair, mussed from sleep, and his tongue strokes over your own, hands bracing your waist as he sighs contently, entirely happy to indulge in you all morning.

You pull away, wanting to look at him.

Violet eyes sparkle with adoration, and your heart does something silly in your chest. It’s ridiculous, how he still has this effect on you, as if this is the first time you’re laying eyes upon him.

You hope the feeling never goes away.

Drunk night in w/ Mor

Golden by Harry styles

Laugher floods the room, and you know at once neither of you are fit to head out.

Mor’s golden hair is tied back from her lovely face, small baby hairs curling at the edges where they’ve slipped the constraint. “Hold still!” She laughs, but you duck away from her. “I am not letting you anywhere near my eyes,” you giggle, scrambling back on the sofa as she approaches with the stick of kohl. “You’ll poke my eye out!”

She laughs, and covers one of her eyes with her hand, “you’d make a good pirate. We could rule the seas together.” Tears flood your vision as she uses the tiny stick of pigment as a miniature cutlass, making neat, precise swipes through the air with the grace of a drunken warrior.

She’s so beautiful it hurt you to watch, how her smile is so full of bubbly, effervescent joy. How she continues to smile despite the world.

Should that smile ever be taken from her again…

You shake your head, banishing the thought with drunken luxury. You stumble to your feet, prying the stick from her slim fingers. You set it down on the table, take her cheeks in your hands, and plant a firm kiss to her mouth. She stiffens with surprise, then she’s melting and her hands are all over you.

Then you’re both tripping and stumbling until you fall onto the sofa, plans to go out long forgotten as you mould into one another, indulging in the soft warmth that comes from utter contentment.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch

[princess-tulip-writes]

ANGRY RHYS

“are you serious right now, darling?” rhysand asked, an eyebrow quirking up as he looked between your greedy cunt and nervous face.

you swallowed thickly at his angry gaze, scared for what is to happen to next. he wasn’t very forgiving in terms of disobedience.

you tried to apologize through the bond, pleading with him for forgiveness.

“out loud.” he hissed, his eyes boring into yours.

“i-i’m sorry.” you stumbled out nervously.

“about?“

“i’m s-sorry for touching without permission.”

he seemed satisfied enough because his face softened slightly. but not enough to tell you that he was letting your slip up slide this time.

“good girl.” he praised. “but, you do understand that daddy needs to discipline you, right sweet girl?”

you nod shyly, your gaze beginning to alter to his clothed legs.

he gripped your face, demanding your full attention as a finger began sliding along your full cheeks.

“you’re going to learn how to behave by the end of tonight, darling. you’ll see.”

[angelsandstxrs]

the high lord keeps interrupting azriel and his mate, until she finally has enough

warnings: 18+, achingly inaccurate to anything acotar, badly written brainstorming as usual, no usage of Y/N so probs a bit confusing at times, smut, azriel wanting employee of the month, (let me know if there’s anything else) words: ~4.2k

It wasn’t uncommon for Azriel to be called by the High Lord at ungodly hours. His work was needed more than often at night, or over a multitude of days or weeks. Her mate's lack of a schedule meant that he’d been called from her more than once when they had been together, and she’d been understanding, until Rhysand seemed to have taken it upon himself to interrupt all her alone time with her mate.

-

“Right there, Az-,” she gasped, fingers tightening in the silky hair under her hand and forcing a growl from the male between her legs. “Oh, gods—“

Her head tipped back against the cold marble wall, eyes closed and face turned towards the high curved ceiling above her. The vacant hallway they had found themselves in was bathing in darkness, both from the usual depressing state of the Court of Nightmares, but also from Azriel’s shadows covering them both and hiding them from the potential threat of any straggling visitors. One of said shadows slid up her leg, under the opening of her dress messily pushed over her hips, passing over the big palm sprawled firmly over the entirety of her lower back, before teasingly drawing around to her front and caressing her cleavage heaving in the neckline of her dress.

A second growl vibrated against her pulsating heat, this time sounding less pleasured and more agitated. The difference was not lost on her, even with her hips desperately grinding down on his tongue, searching for a release from the pleasure coursing through her. The hand on her lower back pulled lower, and for a blissful second she thought his irritation was sourced from her squirming, that she’d receive a sharp slap on the flesh he was digging his fingers into and perhaps a growled warning to Stay still. 

The thought alone had her core curling tight, breaths shortening in preparation for an orgasm — that faded away to dust when her mate pulled away with an even angrier sound she knew wasn’t aimed at her.

“It’s Rhys.” 

The panted exclamation had her tilting her head forward with a quiet groan, eyes sliding open to find Azriel peering up at her from where he was kneeling at her feet, hazel eyes glassed over and jaw clenched tight as he communicated with the High Lord. 

“He’s asking for us.” His voice came from the back of his throat, thick and strained.

She licked her lips, heart pounding in her chest and thighs still tensed in the promise of the shattering orgasm she had been seconds away from.

“Right now?” She pointlessly asked, already knowing the answer.

“Right now.” Azriel confirmed as he eased her leg off his shoulder, careful of her sharp heels near his wings. 

Another quiet groan slipped past her lips, and this time she tilted her head back in exasperation, making no move to help the warm calloused hands tugging her dress down into place again.

“I hate him.” She grumbled and watched Azriel stand, straightening in front of her.

“Don’t pout, angel,” He tilted her chin up with a finger, giving her a soft peck before pulling away with a quietly amused expression. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

She gave him a glare without any real malice behind it, mostly to wind him up a little for later.

“You better.” 

-

He didn’t make it up to her that night. As usual, their visit in the Court of Nightmares didn’t end without trouble, and Rhysand had sent his Spymaster out on a mission before they’d even returned to Velaris. She didn’t know the specifics of the mission, most of the time she didn’t want to know beforehand. It saved her the sleepless nights and worries about if this would be the time he didn’t make it back. With only her imagination she could pretend he was safe and sound, that Rhysand had sent him to check the water levels in the ocean or anything else without any dangers.

The only sign of his distance was the mating bond growing restless, perhaps it had also been fueled by the way he’d been taken from her, but when Azriel returned after a week, she was starving for him.

She was cleaning up in the kitchen after dinner when the mating bond tightened at the same time something familiar brushed against her leg. Looking down, she found a stray shadow coiling around her ankle, eagerly swirling up the expanse of her calf.

Dishes long forgotten, she quickly wiped her hands and hurried out to the foyer, smile widening as the sound of the door opening reached her ears. More shadows flocked her, she payed them no mind as threw herself into their master’s awaiting arms. Azriel lifted her easily off the ground, winding her legs around his hips. His wings, as always, wrapped around them as if shielding them from the world.

She hugged him tighter and buried her face into his neck, drowning herself in his scent.

“Welcome home, my love.” Her words were muffled against the warm skin of his neck.

His smile widened enough for her to feel it against her shoulder before he quietly breathed out, “I missed you so much, angel.”

The plans to have him take a seat at the dining table and feed him the plate of leftovers she’d spared for him just in case, flew out of her head the second his hand tangled in her hair and guided her mouth to his. Kissing Azriel was always mind-numbing and consuming, especially when she hadn’t seen him in a week. It left her desperately holding onto him, fingers pulling through his messily tousled hair as if she could force him even closer. She barely registered him winnowing, only the sudden tilt of her world when he fell back on their bed with her still on top of him.

Planting her knees on the mattress, she straddled his lap as her fingers danced over his leathers, unbuckling and unlacing the sleek buckles and laces. She’d done it countless times, could probably do it blindfolded with her hands tied if she really needed to.

Azriel sighed happily against her lips when she shedded the jacket and undershirt off him, discarding it to the bedroom floor. Her palms greedily slid over his abdomen, taking in the toned muscles honed from centuries of hard training. Another breathy sound emitted from him, this time caused by her hips circling over his lap, grinding down on the hard bulge underneath her.

“Gods-, I missed you.” He repeated as his hands palmed up her thighs, sliding under the oversized shirt that was probably one of his old ones.

“Missed you too.” She panted, pulling back and reaching for the edge of the shirt to lift it over her head. He stopped her, hazel eyes burning wildly and lips swollen as he blinked up at her.

“Leave it on.” 

Giving a half-minded nod, she leaned forward to continue when he suddenly stilled underneath her. 

“Rhys wants my mission report.” He pulled away to talk, words halfway muffled into the kiss.

“Mhm.” She kissed him again, reveling in the taste of him after a long week without him. This time he reciprocated fully, slow and indulging, fueled by the same longing she was feeling.

“I have to go, angel.” He protested half-heartedly against her lips, filling his palms with handfuls of her backside.

“Tell him he can wait.” She tried to persuade him, trailing her kisses lower, down over his collarbones and to the muscular planes of his chest.

Azriel sighed wearily, hands falling from her body to the mattress with a dull thump. Pulling back, she sat up in his lap and stubbornly crossed her arms.

“You know I can’t do that.” He said, the smooth drawl of his voice even softer than usual, hazel eyes round and pleading.

“How long will it take?” She asked, having a bad feeling it wasn’t going to be a quick affair.

“A few hours.” Azriel confirmed her suspicions, giving her an apologetic look.

With a reluctant sigh, she slid off his lap and settled into bed.

“Tell Rhys I hate him.” She drawled sarcastically when he reached for his undershirt from the floor, swiftly pulling it over his head.

“He already knows.” He teased, eyes glinting with quiet amusement when she rolled her eyes. 

“Go now, shadowsinger. I’ll wait up for you.” She hurriedly waved him off, wanting him to return quicker. Azriel chuckled, shaking his head with a smile before he left.

She tried to wait up for him, but eventually fell asleep. Half-expecting the bed to be empty she was more than happy when she woke up in the comforting warmth of her mate’s arms, his snores low against the top of her head.

The first tired rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, bathing the bedroom in a warm glow and forcing her to blink a few times to adjust her eyes to the light. Azriel’s deep breaths over her head kept steady, the sound alone made her smile. She could spend hours like this, there was nowhere she felt more safe or comfortable than in his embrace, but the nagging reminder that he hadn’t eaten anything yesterday made her mind restless.

Lifting his arm slowly, she tried to slide out of his grasp without waking him. As if wanting her to fail, the shadows that had been idly dispersed around the room took notice of her, and before she could dismiss them, dark tendrils were leisurely crawling up on the bed and reaching out to affectionately stroke her cheek.

She knew from experience it was no use to ask them to leave now, and relaxed back against their master right before his arms tightened and forced her to him again.  

“Stay.” The blunt order sounded less commanding with his sleep-coated voice, barely more than a low rumble from the back of his throat.

“I was going to make you breakfast.” She said, softly tracing her fingers over his arm firmly secured around her waist. His face buried in her shoulder, soft black hair tickling her cheek when he simply shook his head.

“Later.” He gruffly replied, hand dipping under her camisole before his warm palm sprawled over her stomach.

“But you must be hungry. You’ve probably barely eaten, and you didn’t have dinner yesterday-,” Her worried rant was interrupted by a bite to the curve of her shoulder, words disappearing from her when his soft lips replaced his teeth and left a trail of soothing kisses over her bare skin.

“I’m fine, angel. Let me hold you for a second.” He murmured and buried his face in her neck, hand on her stomach pulling her closer.

With her backside flush to his hips, a new sort of heat spread across her body, flaring outwards from the depths of her core. He shifted behind her, as if to get comfortable, and the heavy, hot length of him ended up nestled against her backside. Suddenly the big palm on her stomach, pinky finger casually slipped underneath the waistband of her panties, didn’t feel so casual anymore. Neither did the arm secured under her chest, warm hand firmly planted on one of her covered breasts. 

Her body seemed to have been reminded of the pleasure it had been denied, not once but twice, in a short amount of time, nerves coming to life under his touch. But it was too selfish to shove his hand down her panties and arch her back in offering. He had been working. He needed sleep. 

She repeated those sentences as she tried to will her burning body to calm down and keep her self-control in check to not let the overwhelming desire control her. 

The pattern of his breaths suddenly changed.

Her brows furrowed in confusion before she realized what was happening. She tried to turn her head to glare at him, but his face firmly buried in her shoulder stopped her.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Azriel.” She hissed when his chest shook with another round of silent laughter.

“I’m sorry,” Azriel chuckled, not sounding apologetic at all. His hand on her stomach slid slightly lower, ring finger dragging along the edge of her panties. “You’re too sweet.”

Whatever insult that had been spewing on her tongue was forgotten when he tilted his head, pressing a slow kiss to the side of her neck as one of his wings folded over them.

“Will you ever forgive me?” He murmured, still a teasing edge to his voice even as he snuck a leg between her own, hoisting her thigh to rest on his and leaving her spread open for him.

“I’ll have to-,” Her words caught in her throat when his fingers slid her panties to the side, softly grazing her folds. She swallowed thickly to clear her throat. “Think about it.”

Curling his fingers up to her swollen clit and rubbing lazy circles over the sensitive nub aching for attention, he hummed in acknowledgement, “Mhm.”

The circles on her clit tightened, grew slightly rougher, and she had no hope of holding back the gasped moan coming from her chest. His other hand slipped beneath the top of her camisole, rolling her perked nipple between skillful fingers. The pleasured pain shot like lightning down her spine, leaving her cunt clenching around nothing and eyes falling shut. Another open-mouthed messy kiss was placed on the side of her throat, surely leaving marks she’d have to cover today.

“Did you touch this pretty little cunt for me while I was gone?” Azriel husked against her skin, sounding like he already knew the answer. Which he probably did, considering he somehow always knew exactly what she had been up to when he was gone.

She shook her head, mouth parting around a soft gasp when two of the long thick digits slowly pressed inside her.

“No?” The pleased smirk on his face was so big it could be heard in his voice, making her body flush with warmth. “Such a good girl, aren’t you? Waiting for me to take care of you.”

His fingers thrusted into her in a steady pace, not with the purpose to make her come, but to ready her for something else. However with her body so high-strung, the friction of his fingers along her tightened walls had stars dancing across her eye-lids. And when they curled, pressing against that soft spot she couldn’t reach herself, a sharp gasp tumbled out of her as her body tensed, prepared to unfurl at the next touch.

“Not yet, angel,” Azriel reprimanded, hand pulling away from between her legs and forcing a pitiful whimper from her at the loss. “You’ll only come on my cock.” 

That promise had her mind reeling and hips instinctually arching back towards him.

“Please, Az-, I want it so bad-,” She sounded like a wanton whore, and she felt like one too when he shifted behind her, one arm still wound tight around her frame as he pushed his underwear down his legs.

A shadow wrapped itself around her upper thigh, suspending her leg higher over his muscular thigh and exposing her fully to the otherwise empty bedroom. She reached a hand back to curl around the back of his neck as his breaths grew labored beside her ear, giving himself a few careless tugs before his cock nudged at her pulsating heat.

Right when relief was in her grasp, he suddenly stilled, forehead coming to rest heavily against her shoulder as he let out a heavy sigh.

“No.” The dreadful exclamation flew out of her, sensing where her mate’s attention had gone when the shadows around them hesitantly drew away, somehow taking with them all the boiling tension that had been simmering around them.

“He has another mission for me.” Azriel’s exhale was low.

“But you just came back,” she found herself complaining, even if she knew it meant absolutely nothing. Turning in his hold to slide her palms over his chest and the Illyrian markings sweeping up his neck, she filled her eyes with as much pleading as she could. “Please, Az.”

He sighed again, hazel eyes full of warmth as he peered down at her pouting face.

“I’ll only be a few days. It’s a follow-up from this past week.” He explained, gently caressing her cheek with his knuckles.

“He can’t send you away when you’ve barely been home twelve hours! You need to eat too!” She argued, voice raising when she once again remembered that he hadn’t had dinner last night.

He visibly tried to fight it, but one corner of his mouth tilted in a slanted grin. The sight of the dimple in his cheek brightened the turmoil in her head slightly.

“I promise to eat.” He cooed, clearly amused at her worried state.

The pout on her face deepened, both at the implication that he was leaving and the sparkling mirth in her mate’s eyes.

“I’ll know if you lie.” She threatened, intertwining their hands and pressing them over her heart.

Azriel’s expression softened as he leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

“I’d never lie to you, angel.” 

She was still pouting as she watched him dress, the leathered uniform black as night even in the rising sun, siphons glowing brightly when he braced a hand on the bed and leaned over to give her a sweet kiss.

“Three days.” Azriel reminded as he pulled away.

“I love you. Be careful.” Her heart squeezed in her chest when he gave her another one of those dimpled grins that were reserved only for her.

“I love you more.” And with that he was gone, leaving her to plot her revenge for herself.

-

It was a carefully crafted plan. It had to be, with both Feyre and Rhysand’s ability to thread into her mind and see exactly what she had up her sleeve. 

She proposed some girl time to Feyre, and they made plans to go around town for an afternoon. During their stroll and mindless window shopping, she guided Feyre into the boutique at the end of the promenade, the one with lush velvet curtains and sparkling chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The one with one-of-a-kind handcrafted lingerie. 

Under the guise that she had to pick up an ordered set, she pointed Feyre to the selective pieces of soft lace and shiny silk hanging along the walls. It was an easy feat to get her into the dressing room, even easier to plant the idea in her head.

“You know, Azriel goes crazy for these,” She toyed with the lace colored in a particular shade of blue in her hands, watching Feyre twirl in the dressing room. The High Lady peered at her through the mirror, curiosity shining in her blue eyes. “I like to make it into a game. To tease him. Whenever I buy anything new I put on a revealing dress over, just barely showing off the edges of the bra, or the outline of the garter-belt. It usually has him on his knees in no time.” 

Curiosity morphed into something else, something rather dark and wicked. And when the corner of Feyre’s mouth itched upwards before she asked the clerk, Do you have this in any other colors? — it was abundantly clear her plan had worked.

She smiled all the way home. Throughout her lonely dinner. When she pulled forth the ingredients to bake. As she packed the baked goods in a basket, draping the sweetness in a soft cloth.

When Feyre opened the door, cheeks slightly flushed and a silk robe carelessly tugged around her lithe body, flashes of black lace peeking out from the opening, she had to tune down the victorious grin wanting to carve her face. She’d timed it perfectly.

“Do you have a moment?” She innocently inquired, raising the basket with warm pastries to bring the younger fae’s attention to it.

Perhaps it was cruel to use Feyre’s kindness like this, but she reminded herself that the High Lord the kind girl had the displeasure of being mated to was far more evil. 

“Of course.” Feyre smiled, a forced and rushed expression, as she opened the front door wider. 

The High Lady and Lord’s house was as warm and inviting as always, especially with the candles lit around the living and dining room, clear evidence of a romantic evening.

Feyre walked her towards the sitting area, gesturing for her to have a seat in one of the couches as she did the same. Taking her time to place the basket on the table and make herself comfortable in the plush leather couch, she almost missed when the High Lady gracefully hid a piece of fabric that looked suspiciously close to a dress behind the decorative pillows.

“These are my favorites.” Feyre politely remarked, leaning forward and reaching for one of the freshly baked pastries in the basket.

“I’m glad you like them-,” She was interrupted by a presence that seemed to be vibrating with powerful darkness.

“What are you doing here?” Rhysand’s tone offered no politeness, unlike his graceful wife. His eyes narrowed in accusation when she innocently smiled up at his rigid form stood rooted in the doorway to their open living room.

“I made cardamom buns, and I remembered how much Feyre liked them last time-,”

“You came over now, with pastries?” His accusatory gaze pointedly glanced out the windows, to the pitch black darkness outside.

“Rhys.” Feyre hissed quietly, catching onto the unfamiliar irritation clouding the High Lord.

“I had no one else at home to share them with.” She answered, tilting her head to the side when Rhysand merely stared at her as if trying to force her out of his house without speaking. Centuries of friendship with the male had her knowing exactly what he was asking of her.

What do you want? His voice flooded her mind the second the dropped a portion of her mental shields.

Call Azriel back and give him a month off work.

He huffed out an unamused scoff, You had three months when you mated. You can have a day.

She fought back the urge to roll her eyes. That was centuries ago. A week without any disturbance. That’s my last offer.

His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing into slits.

Don’t test me, Rhys. I can show her the recipe. She threatened, filling her tone with as much conviction as she could.

Fine. One week. If he’s not back well-rested I’m blaming you.

“Well, I should head home.” She cleared her throat and offered Feyre a smile as the presence in her mind retreated.

The younger fae’s eyes widened, almost apologetically. “Oh, you don’t have-,”

“Sounds like a great idea,” Rhysand interrupted his wife, turning to almost point towards the front door. “It is awfully late.”

“I’ll leave these for you two,” She gestured to the basket of freshly baked pastries on the table as she headed out of the room, shooting Rhysand a quick smirk. “Trust me, you’ll need them after you’ve seen her in the red set.”

After winnowing home, she headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed. It only took a few minutes before the door to the ensuite creaked open, Azriel’s tall statue filling the doorframe.

“Welcome home, my love.” She smiled, running the brush in her hand over her hair.

It took him less than two strides to cross the distance between them, arms winding around her from behind before his head tilted down to press a sweet kiss to her cheek.

“What did you do?” His eyes met hers through the mirror as he straightened again.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She feigned innocence, leaning back into his embrace.

“You had nothing to do with Rhysand telling me he won’t be contacting me for a week?” He tilted his head down again, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Or that he called me back and told me to go home to my freakishly stubborn mate?”

“He said that?” A smile lifted her lips, growing further when her mate breathed out a low chuckle.

“I think he wanted to say even more. He sounded a little agitated.” 

“You know how he is. Always in a mood.” She teased, breaking their eye-contact to place the hairbrush in her hand back on the counter. With the movement, the opening of her robe widened and bared more of her chest. 

The grip on her hips tightened, fingers digging into the silk of her robe as the siphons on the back of his hands flared with the same color as the lace of her lingerie now deliberately on show.

“I was thinking we could go up to the cabin, or I could ask Helion if we could spend a few days-,” The rest of her sentence dissolved into a cut-off gasp when she was abruptly bent over at the waist, shadows quickly dampening her fall to the granite counter. 

“Or I’ll have you right here for the rest of the week.” Azriel stated, bluntly pushing the bottom of the robe over her arched hips. 

“How unexciting.” She countered, albeit a bit breathlessly when the expensive lace adoring her backside was roughly ripped down to pool at her ankles.

Azriel laughed, a foot nudging between her own and forcing her legs apart. “Good thing we have plenty of time to make it exciting.”

(thank you so much for the support on my first post. much love xx)

[thewulf]

Soothing Shadows || Azriel

Summary: Request - Can I request some fluffy angst with Azriel? She’s usually soft, sweet and shy but she’s suddenly moody and snapping trying to seem tough from a REALLY bad period?

A/N: Well I got way too carried away on the intro but I love it. Love this one. ACOTAR is just so much fun to write. the characters are just... perfect. I hope you all enjoy :)

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Day Court Reader)

Word Count: 6.7k +

TW: Yelling, frustration, crying

The Meeting

In the golden light of the Day Court's grand hall the sunlight danced playfully across the marble floors. It was an atmosphere thick with the potential of new alliances that buzzed through the air. Azriel was enveloped in his characteristic shadows despite the overwhelming brightness. He entered the hall alongside Rhysand and Cassian looking rather unimpressed. Day Court was never his favorite. Their steps were confident yet cautious, reflective of the gravity of their mission.

The room was populated with dignitaries and advisors. It seemed to pause momentarily as their attention was drawn to the Night Court's formidable high fae. But for Azriel it wasn’t the opulent surroundings nor the stares of the courtiers that unsettled him—it was you.

Standing among the Day Court's delegation, you were pointing to a map seemingly unfazed by their arrival. Your aura shone more brilliantly than anything else he’d ever seen. You were a strategist he concluded as you kept pointing and offering up solutions. Your attire was remarkably vibrant and expressive even for a Day Court fae. It contrasted starkly with his dark, subdued tones. Yet the garments mirrored the radiant environment of your home or what he assumed was your home. It wasn’t until Rhysand cleared is through that your eyes, keen and perceptive, swept over the newcomers. They paused just a touch longer on him than on the others. And he’d be lying if he didn’t say that your piercing eyes didn’t unsettle him a touch further.

Azriel’s heart was usually so stead but that looked you gave him made it skip unevenly beneath his armor. He meant to greet you with his customary reserve, but his voice caught still in his throat. Instead, the words stumbled over themselves like his shadows at noon. Cassian’s barely concealed smirk did little to soothe his discomfort. Rhysand’s knowing glance only deepened the flush that dared to climb Azriel’s neck.

You cocked an eyebrow in surprise at the new comers. The High Lord of the Night Court and his Inner Circle. You were expecting Night Court emissaries not the High Lord himself. And certainly not flanked by the Shadowsinger and General you’d heard so much about. The war was brutal, but they seemingly made themselves known through their selfless actions. "Welcome to the Day Court High Lord," you said with a hit of a smile on your lips. Your voice was clear and melodious, and it sliced through his momentary lapse with ease. He noticed how you bowed reverently to Rhysand and nobody else. "We hope our discussions today will strengthen the ties between our courts during these challenging times. High Lord Helion will be joining us shortly. He ran into a minor hiccup with High Lord Kallias.” You smirked looking directly at Rhysand after your gaze had settled on Azriel for a beat too long. “You know how those seasonal courts are, fickle is as fickle does.”

Your smile was warm and inviting as it clashed with the cool, calculated persona he had anticipated. As you extended your hand in greeting to the three of them Azriel’s shadows flickered uncertainly around him. Taking a deep breath, he managed to gather his composure, his hand meeting yours first. The contact sent a jolt of unexpected warmth coursing up his arm and settling deep within his chest. Rhysand’s low chuckle was barely audible and hinted that he found the situation amusing. He was already piecing together the reason behind Azriel’s sudden awkwardness

The High Lord’s response was a measured one. His expression unfaltering as he took in your words and the underlying tone. The faintest smile touched his lips, a gleam of amusement—or perhaps appreciation—flickering in the depths of his blue violet eyes. He was no stranger to the complexities and occasional theatrics of court relations and your comment about the seasonal courts didn't go unnoticed. "Thank you for your kind welcome," Rhysand replied. His voice was smooth and commanding yet carrying an undercurrent of warmth that he reserved for those he deemed worth his genuine attention. "It is always enlightening to visit the Day Court. The light here is quite invigorating," he continued, his gaze briefly sweeping the sunlit hall before settling back on you and giving your own hand a shake after Azriel.

He stepped forward slightly, around you, closing some of the formal distance that the court protocol initially demanded. "Indeed though, the fickleness of the seasonal courts can often be... challenging. But it’s the steadfast nature of courts like yours and mine that often brings balance," he added. The slight emphasis on 'steadfast' subtly acknowledged both the compliment and the jest you had woven into your very own greeting.

Rhysand's demeanor remained composed but there was a keen sharpness to his observation. It was indicative of his role not just as a leader but as a tactician. He was always reading between the lines, always ready to engage on more than just the surface level. "We look forward to discussing ways our courts might work together more closely," he concluded. His tone implying that your directness and evident acumen had not only been noted but were also appreciated. His response set the stage for a dialogue that promised to be as engaging and sharp as the participants involved.

You smile brightly at his calculated response. You’d heard many stories of Rhysand and his cleverness. "Then by all means, please have a seat and we will get started once High Lord Helion arrives shortly." You motion to the golden table behind you.

Rhysand nodded at your invitation with the hint of a strategic mind playing behind his affable smile. He gestured gracefully to his companions indicating they should take their seats in preparation for the meeting. As Cassian moved to take a spot near the end of the table, Rhysand placed a hand on Azriel's shoulder, his voice just loud enough for those nearby to catch, "Azriel, why don’t you take the seat next to our esteemed strategist from the Day Court? It might be beneficial for our discussions."

Azriel cast a brief, slightly questioning glance at Rhysand but there was an unspoken understanding in the exchange. With a barely perceptible nod Azriel complied moving smoothly to the indicated chair beside you. His presence was quiet and unobtrusive, yet you couldn’t help but feel the weight of his gaze as he settled next to you. The Shadowsinger’s famed subtlety making him a curious, albeit intriguing, neighbor.

As he took his seat next to you his voice was a low murmur just for you, "I hope my presence here serves to facilitate a fruitful dialogue between our courts," Azriel said. His tone earnest yet carrying an edge of his characteristic reserve.

Rhysand watched this arrangement unfold, a barely there smile playing on his lips, clearly pleased with his own maneuvering. His eyes met yours for a moment and the look was both a challenge and a promise—the proceedings today would be anything but mundane.

With Azriel now seated beside you, his presence both imposing and intriguing, you turned to him with a playful glint in your eye. "I'm sure your presence will not only facilitate but enhance our discussions," you replied. Your voice tinged with a hint of flirtation. "After all, it's not every day we get graced by the infamous Shadowsinger." Your words hung lightly between you as an invitation to a more relaxed interaction despite the formal setting. Azriel's expression which was usually so guarded softened slightly at your approach. A faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he acknowledged the compliment mixed with your light jest.

"Infamous, is it?" Azriel responded. The undertone of his voice suggesting he was both amused and intrigued by your characterization. "I suppose there are worse reputations to have." The subtle exchange, though brief, set a tone of ease and mild flirtation, hinting at the potential for not only diplomatic success but personal connection as well.

Just as you were about to deliver a witty retort to Azriel's comment the grand doors to the meeting hall swung open. Your High Lord strode in with his characteristic regal poise but an apologetic smile. As Helion settled into his chair with his characteristic regal ease he apologized for his tardiness. His eyes twinkling slightly with humor. "My apologies for the delay," Helion announced. The resonant timbre of his voice filling the room. "It seems that even the best of us are not immune to the whims of weather and politics. Kallias can be rather persuasive in his timing."

Before you could respond though Rhysand chimed in. A slight smirk playing on his lips as he glanced at you. "No worries, Helion. Your strategist here has been more than welcoming," he said while nodding towards you with a hint of playfulness in his tone. "It seems the Day Court excels not only in strategy but also in hospitality."

You smiled, catching Rhysand's eye with a look that matched his own amusement. "We do our best to keep our guests comfortable, High Lord Rhysand. It helps to ensure a more productive discussion," you replied smoothly. Your words subtly acknowledging his compliment while keeping the tone light and engaging.

Helion chuckled at the exchange, clearly pleased with the rapport between his strategist and the Night Court's leader. The room relaxed into a more congenial atmosphere setting a positive tone for the serious diplomatic discussions that were about to unfold.

As the meeting unfolded Azriel found himself repeatedly glancing at you. You were unfailingly professional. Your insights sharp and your arguments compelling. Yet, there was an undercurrent of gentleness in your approach. A lightness that seemed to permeate the very air around you. It was in stark contrast to the shadows that clung to him. A poignant irony not lost on him. The shadowsinger drawn inexplicably towards a child of daylight. Despite the limited words exchanged between you two each interaction left Azriel more intrigued. He was increasingly ensnared by the bright strategist whose presence seemed to challenge the depths of his shadows.

The Panic

Back in the Night Court within the familiar shadows of their favored lounge, Azriel faced the relentless teasing of his closest friends. Cassian was lounging on an oversized chair with that irrepressible grin. He watched Azriel with an amused twinkle in his eye. "You know, I've seen you calm in the face of Hybern's armies yet a few sweet words from a lady of the Day Court and you're more tangled than your shadows in sunlight." He snickered knowing it was getting under his brothers skin.

Rhysand was always one for teasing and couldn't resist joining in. His voice laced with laughter. "Truly, it's a sight. Our master of stealth and subtlety was undone by a pretty smile and a strategic mind. Tell us, Az, what exactly did she say to fluster the great Shadowsinger?"

Azriel, whose usual composure was as solid as the mountains surrounding Velaris, felt an unusual heat creeping up his neck for the second time that day. Each jab from his friends pricked at him. It was stirring a whirlpool of thoughts and emotions he was usually so adept at managing. "It’s not just her words," he began. His voice defensive, but as their teasing continued his defenses began to thin.

"Come on, spill it then, Az. Did she outmaneuver you with her wit or was it the sunlight in her hair?" Cassian quipped not missing the slight shift in Azriel’s stance.

The shadows around Azriel deepened, reacting to his rising frustration and embarrassment. Unable to hold back the truth from his brothers relentless teasing he blurted out, "She's my mate, alright? The shadows... they whispered it to me as soon as I saw her standing there." Cassian’s laughter halted abruptly. His expression shifting to shock while Rhysand paused. His own smirk fading into a more thoughtful gaze.

Azriel's admission hung heavily in the air. His heart pounding as he faced the reality he had only dared to acknowledge in the darkest corners of his mind. She’s my mate. How? Why her? Why now? His thoughts raced, chaotic and overwhelming. The concept of having a mate had always been distant, abstract. It was something meant for others. Not for him, cloaked as he was in secrecy and shadows. He didn’t even think Shadowsinger’s could have mates until his shadows confirmed it.

As the initial shock of his declaration settled Rhysand’s features softened. "Az, this... this is significant. But think about it. The Cauldron knows what it’s doing. She brings light where you bring shadow. Balance, in its purest form."

As the shadows around Azriel grew more restless so did his thoughts. His words spilled out in an uncharacteristic torrent. "It doesn't make sense," he started. His words rushing out as if he was trying to keep pace with the whirlwind inside him. "Why her? Why now? She's light and life, and I'm... I'm the opposite. I live in the shadows, in the secrets and silence. How can I bring someone like her into that world? It's not just about balance or opposites attracting. It's about her world and mine, and they just don't... they don't align."

He paused only to draw a shallow breath, hardly noticing Cassian and Rhysand exchanging worried glances. "And what about what she needs? She thrives in the sun, in the warmth. I can offer her none of that. My world is night and cold and hidden things. What if I'm not what she needs? What if I'm just... just another shadow in her bright world?"

Rhysand tried to interject, "Az..."

But Azriel pressed on, relentless. "And the Cauldron, why would it choose this? Why would it choose now to tell me she's my mate? I’ve managed this long on my own, kept to myself. Why throw this... this chaos into my life? It’s like it’s testing me, pushing me to my limits. She deserves someone who can walk in the light with her. Someone who doesn't hide from the world."

His voice was a mix of disbelief and desperation. His words tumbling faster as his anxiety peaked. "And what am I supposed to do? Just walk up to her and say, 'Here I am, your mate, doomed to live in the dark'? How is that fair to her? She has her life, her court. I can’t ask her to leave that behind. I can’t ask her to adjust to the night. It’s not fair. It’s just not fair to her."

Cassian finally stood, grasping Azriel's shoulders to stop his pacing, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Azriel, breathe, brother. You’re spiraling. You’re thinking about all the ways it can go wrong instead of how it could go right. You’re not considering that maybe she’s been waiting for someone who can appreciate her brightness because he understands the dark."

Rhysand nodded, his voice calm and steady. "Cassian’s right. And remember, the Cauldron doesn’t make these decisions lightly. There’s a reason you’re drawn to each other, a reason beyond what we can see. Maybe it’s not about what you think you can or can’t give her. Maybe it’s about what you can create together." The room fell silent as Azriel's breaths slowly evened out. The words of his brothers began to sink in as he processed what they said. The shadows around him calmed, settling as he considered their words. The frenzy of his thoughts gradually giving way to a cautious hope.

Azriel stood there with the weight of his friends’ hands on his shoulders grounding him. Slowly, their words began to penetrate the chaos in his mind, like light piercing through the shadows. Rhysand’s calm assurance and Cassian’s steadfast support made him realize something important: he wasn’t alone in this. He had his brothers. And maybe, just maybe, he could have you too.

He took a deep breath after finally stilling his frantic thoughts. "Maybe you’re right," he said quietly. The tension in his voice easing. "Maybe... maybe there’s a reason for this. I just have to find it."

With his brothers’ encouragement and their unwavering belief in the bond the Cauldron had forged, Azriel decided to give it a chance. He started visiting the Day Court more frequently. He found reasons to see you and to learn more about you. Each visit was a step closer. Each conversation a bridge over the chasm of his doubts.

At first the visits were all business—discussing strategies, alliances, the future of their courts. But quickly thereafter the conversations turned more personal. You talked about your dreams, your fears, and the way the sun felt on your skin. He shared pieces of himself he had kept hidden for so long. He talked of the shadows that lingered in his past, the secrets he carried. He was encouraged when you didn’t recoil away from the conversation but asked more. Wanted to see more.

You began to spend time in Velaris as well. You were invited by Azriel to see the beauty of his world. You wandered the streets together. Explored the hidden corners of the city and discovered the charm of the Night Court. The contrast between the bright, open spaces of the Day Court and the intimate, star-lit beauty of Velaris fascinated you. You found yourself growing to love Velaris as much as he did.

Months passed and the bond between you deepened. Azriel’s initial fears slowly melted away as he realized that the light and shadow within your relationship didn’t clash. Instead, they complemented each other just as Rhysand suggested. You brought warmth to his life, and he brought a depth of understanding to yours. It wasn’t about changing each other but about creating something new together.

Finally, after months of Azriel seeming to court you he told you of what he’d known for a long while now. It was a sunny afternoon in the Day Court as you both stood in the garden where you had first met. He wasn’t planning on telling you that day but the way the sun cast delicate shadows over your frame he knew it was time. The flowers bloomed brightly around you making you as ethereal as ever. He took your hands in his, the shadows curling gently around your fingers.

His heart was steady as he looked into your eyes, filled with the certainty that had eluded him for so long. He told you everything—the whispers of his shadows, the bond he had felt from the start, and the journey he had taken to accept it. And when he finally said it out loud, that you were his mate, the joy that spread across your face was more beautiful than any sunlight or shadow he had known.

You had suspected, had even felt the bond too, but had waited for him to come to you in his own time. And now that he had the happiness between you was undeniable. Together you would embrace the future. You knew you would find the perfect balance of light and shadow. You were more than ready to face whatever came next.

The Decision

A few more days had passed and the question of where the two of you would live rang heavily in his head. He didn’t want to bombard you, but he couldn’t let his mind rest until he knew what was going to happen. You’d told him you would move to Velaris to be with him, but the conversation seemed so long ago now. Like maybe he was dreaming it himself.

In a quiet corner of the Day Court gardens you and Azriel sat on a bench beneath a canopy of blooming flowers. The gentle hum of life around you contrasted with the serious conversation at hand. Azriel’s eyes that were normally so composed were filled with a mix of concern and determination.

"I need to ask you something," he began. His voice steady but his hands fidgeting slightly. "Are you truly ready to leave the Day Court and move to Velaris? To take on a new role and a new life there? I don’t want you to feel like you have to sacrifice everything for me." He admitted in earnest.

You reached out taking his hands in yours, feeling the comforting weight of his touch. "Yes. Azriel, this feels right. I’ve come to love Velaris, its people, and its beauty. Being with you has shown me a world I never knew I could belong to. It’s not a sacrifice. It’s a new beginning." Your smile was genuine, but he felt uneasy. He didn’t want you to resent him for your leaving of your home court. The only court you’d ever known.

Azriel’s brow furrowed slightly, the shadows around him flickering with his unease. "But what about your responsibilities here? Your role in the Day Court? Your family? I don’t want you to feel like you’re abandoning your life for me."

You smiled with your heart swelling with affection for this man who cared so deeply for your well-being. "I’m not abandoning anything. We can find a way to maintain my connection to the Day Court. Rhysand and Helion can work out an arrangement where I can serve both courts, acting as a bridge between them. It’s a role I believe I’m meant to play. My family will understand. They just want me to be happy. And you make me happy. Velaris will make me happy." You gave his hands a squeeze in yours

He sighed. His shoulders relaxing slightly as he absorbed your words. "And you’re sure? You’re truly sure this is what you want?"

You leaned in closer. Your voice filled with conviction. "I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Being with you, in Velaris, feels like coming home. It’s where I want to be, with you. We can make this work together."

Azriel nodded. A smile slowly spreading across his face. "Then let’s do it. We’ll talk to Rhysand and Helion and make this official. We’ll find a way for you to fulfill your duties to both courts while being together."

The conversation with Rhysand and Helion was productive and filled with mutual respect. Rhysand’s approval and Helion’s support solidified the plan for you to become an ambassador between the Day and Night Courts. This arrangement ensured that you could maintain your influence in the Day Court while building a new life in Velaris with your mate. For even High Lord’s would never come between a fae and their mate.

The Cycle

The streets of Velaris hummed with the gentle bustle of evening activity as the city welcomed Azriel back into its embrace. His shadowed silhouette moved effortlessly through the crowd, a figure of quiet strength returning from a covert mission. By his side, you walked with a smile, your presence a bright counter to his darker aura. The bond between you, still fresh and filled with the thrill of discovery, seemed to deepen with every step you took together.

Despite the jovial atmosphere of the city, a ripple of discomfort threaded through you. The onset of your cycle beginning just as Azriel returned. The timing was far from ideal, and you decided to keep the discomfort to yourself. You did not want to cloud his homecoming with the burden of your pain.

"Azriel, it seems Velaris hasn’t slept a wink since you left," you remarked lightly trying to steer clear of your discomfort by engaging him with the vibrancy of the city.

He chuckled a soft, melodious sound that easily blended with the evening air. "Or perhaps it’s just waking up now that I’m back." His eyes that were especially dark and perceptive tonight, flicked to yours with a smile tugging at his lips. Despite the playfulness of his words, his gaze was probing, always searching beneath the surface even if he didn't yet know what he was looking for.

As you approached the quieter lamp-lit streets near your home the pain discreetly intensified. Each step became a little more measured though you masked it well with practiced ease. Azriel was caught up in recounting the details of his mission. He didn’t immediately notice the subtle shifts in your demeanor. The slightly too-long pauses, the faint grimaces quickly smoothed into neutral expressions.

Once home you busied yourself with preparing a late dinner by moving around the kitchen with a grace that belied the growing ache. Azriel was unpacking and settling back into the space. He watched you from the corner of his eye. Something in your movement, perhaps a stiffness you hadn’t possessed before, hinted at an unspoken truth.

Dinner passed with light conversation and shared laughter. You asked about his travels, the people he met, the sights he saw, all while carefully balancing your own discomfort on a tightrope of normalcy. Azriel responded with stories and light-hearted comments, but his observant eyes missed little. He noted each careful movement and each strained smile.

Later though, as you both settled into the quiet comfort of the living room with the flickering candles casting soft shadows across the walls, Azriel’s concern finally found its voice. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything,” he said softly, his voice a gentle nudge in the quiet room. It wasn’t an accusation, nor a confrontation. It was just an offer hanging softly between you.

You met his gaze with a soft smile. His warmth and worry there evident. You hesitated. A part of you, the part woven tightly to him through the bond, yearned to share the burden, to lean on him as you had promised each other. But another part, the part steeled by independence and not wanting to cast a shadow over his return, held back.

“I know,” you replied. Your voice softer than intended, a smile attempting to mask your discomfort. “I’m just glad you’re home, Azriel. Really, I’m fine.”

Azriel nodded, accepting your words for now but not deceived by them. His offer stood. A silent vow reflected in the steadiness of his gaze ready for when you chose to accept it. And as the evening wore on the unspoken understanding deepened. The assurance that when you were ready, he would be there, just as the city’s lights would always return with the stars.

The next morning in Velaris began with the soft glow of the rising sun streaming through the windows, bathing the kitchen in warm light. It was usually a welcome sight, but today, as the rays hit your eyes it sparked an unexpected irritation. You squinted sharply, shielding your face with your hand. "Why is the sun so bright this morning?" you grumbled more to yourself than to Azriel.

Azriel, standing nearby and preparing breakfast, glanced over with a mixture of concern and a slight smile noting the irony of a Day Court Fae being annoyed by the sun. "Would you like me to close the curtains?" he offered, his voice gentle, recognizing your discomfort as more than just a complaint about the light.

"Yes, please," you sighed before rubbing your temples as he moved to adjust the drapes, softening the room's brightness. Your mood felt as fragile as glass, each sensory input amplified.

Throughout the morning these small irritations bubbled up unexpectedly. When the kettle whistled loudly as it reached a boil, you winced. The sound slicing through the quiet like a siren. "Does it always need to be that loud?" you muttered. The frustration edging your words.

Azriel turned off the stove. His movements calm and deliberate, designed not to provoke your sensitivities further. "It's done now," he said soothingly, pouring the hot water into a teapot with practiced care.

As you both sat to eat, the scraping of your chair against the floor made you cringe. You held your head in your hands for a moment, feeling overwhelmed. "Sorry, everything just feels a bit much this morning," you apologized. Your voice muffled by your hands.

Azriel’s response was filled with an empathetic patience. "It’s okay. We all have those days. Is there anything else I can do to make the morning easier for you my love?"

You shook your head instead managing a small smile as you looked up at him. "Just having you here helps."

He returned your smile with a nod. His presence a quiet reassurance. Azriel continued to navigate the morning with a considerate grace by turning down the volume on the music player that usually filled your mornings with lively tunes. He replaced it instead with the soft, soothing sounds of a gentle instrumental.

Later, as you prepared to leave the kitchen, a sharp pain from your cycle struck drawing a hiss of pain from your lips. Azriel was at your side in an instant, his concern deepening. "Is everything alright?" he asked. His voice laced with worry.

You nodded your head not wanting to worry him with the details just yet. "Just a bit of a headache," you lied, not ready to divulge the true cause of your discomfort.

Azriel didn't press further, respecting your space, but his offer was clear. "If you need anything—anything at all, just let me know." His assurance was comforting. He was a steady anchor in the choppy waters of your morning. As you leaned into his support, appreciating the depth of his patience, you realized how much it meant to have someone who could weather your storm without taking it personally. Azriel's understanding allowed you to face the more challenging days with a sense of security knowing that even when you couldn't control the storm within you weren't alone in navigating it.

Later that evening, as the city of Velaris began to quiet down under the night sky, the calm in your shared home was punctuated by the subtle but persistent struggles of your condition. After a day fraught with sensitivity and muted pain you had finally found a moment of respite by drifting into a light sleep.

Azriel, ever so cautious, tried to maintain the tranquility of your environment. However, as he moved around the bedroom preparing for his own rest a book slipped from his grasp. The soft thud it made as it hit the floor seemed deafening in the quiet room. Startled from your shallow slumber you snapped awake with irritation flaring immediately. "Can you just be quiet for once?" you lashed out. Your voice sharp and louder than intended. The darkness of the room seemed to swell with the tension of your words.

Azriel froze, the book forgotten at his feet. He turned towards you. His face a mask of surprise and hurt. The room was thick with your frustration and his growing concern. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the emotion you could hear just under the surface. "I didn’t mean to wake you."

You sighed, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes, frustration at yourself now mingling with the physical pain. "No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I... I just fell asleep, and I’m so tired, Az. I didn’t mean to snap."

There was a moment of silence as Azriel digested your words. The gentle shifting of his stance indicating his internal debate on how to proceed. Finally, he spoke, his words careful but filled with the need to understand. "This isn’t like you love. You’re not just tired. Please, talk to me. What’s really going on?"

The concern in his voice, the genuine worry for your well-being, broke through the last of your defenses. The dam built around your emotions and the pain you had been trying to hide all day finally burst. Tears started to gather in your eyes, blurring your vision as you faced not just the physical pain but also the emotional strain of keeping it hidden. "It’s my cycle, Az. It’s really painful this time and I didn’t want to make a fuss about it, especially today. But I’ve gone and made a fuss about it by being mean to you."

Azriel's reaction was immediate and intense. His eyes widened in alarm. "Your cycle? Is it supposed to hurt this much? Should I call a healer? Maybe there’s something wrong. We should do something. What can I do? Tell me how to help you." His questions tumbled out in a hurried stream; his usual calm demeanor replaced by a flustered, almost panicked response.

You couldn’t help but let out a small giggle despite your discomfort. You were struck by how uncharacteristically panicked he was. The sight of Azriel, always so in control, now scrambling to figure out how to deal with a normal albeit painful part of your life, was oddly endearing. "Really, Az, I don’t need a healer," you reassured him by still chuckling a little. "It’s not unusual, just uncomfortable. Maybe just some warmth and quiet would help."

Seeing you laugh, Azriel took a deep breath, attempting to calm his racing thoughts. "Okay, warmth, I can manage that," he muttered to himself almost as if making a mental checklist. "And quiet. Right. I’ll get you a heating pad and some tea. Does chamomile sound good? I read somewhere once that it’s supposed to be soothing." Watching him take determined strides toward the kitchen you felt a mix of gratitude and amusement. His earnestness and sudden eagerness to do anything to make you feel better warmed your heart and eased some of your discomfort.

Azriel carefully placed the heating pad and tea on the bedside table then hesitantly perched on the very edge of the bed. He maintained a noticeable distance between you. His eyes flickered with concern and an unusual hint of hesitance as he watched you curl up under the blankets, seeking comfort and warmth. Noticing the space he'd kept away from you, you pouted slightly, feeling the chill of his absence more acutely than the air around you. "Why are you all the way over there?" you asked him. Your voice carrying a soft note of longing and a touch of playful reproach.

He looked at you, a wry smile touching his lips. He held up his hands "I’m cold, always cold. My hands are freezing. ," he replied. His voice tinged with a half-hearted jest. "And you need warmth."

You rolled your eyes affectionately before extending your hand towards him. "I don’t care. Come here," you insisted. Your tone gentle yet firm.

Without missing a beat, Azriel moved closer to you. His earlier hesitation vanishing as he lay down next to you. However, ever considerate, he strategically placed a soft blanket between you and him just in case his cooler, shadow-clad nature made you uncomfortable. Then with a tender smile he pulled you into his embrace ensuring that the blanket acted as a warm buffer. Making sure to keep any chill his presence might hold at bay.

Azriel's embrace enveloped you, the blanket between you two a considerate barrier to his naturally cool presence. He held you close, his voice a soft murmur near your ear, "I’m here, no matter what. Always.”

As you nestled against him feeling the warmth of his care seep through the fabric, he chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. "You know," he started, a playful twinkle lighting up his eyes, "I’ve heard that certain... activities can be quite beneficial for soothing cycles. Something about natural pain relief?" His tone was teasing, deliberately light to coax a smile from you.

Azriel's playful suggestion hung in the air, wrapped in the warmth and the soft chuckle that followed. You raised an eyebrow. Your laughter still echoing softly in the room. Leaning in a little closer you matched his mischievous gaze with one of your own. "What certain activities are you alluding to, Azriel?" you teased. Your voice dripping with feigned innocence. "You'll have to be more specific. I'm not sure I follow."

The twinkle in Azriel’s eyes brightened, amused, and slightly challenged by your seemingly innocent response. "Oh, you know," he replied, his voice lowering into a suggestive murmur, "activities that involve being very... close and unclothed. I've heard they can be quite therapeutic."

Your laughter filled the room again, lighter, and more carefree than it had been all day. "Therapeutic, huh? That sounds like a very scientific approach," you quipped back. The banter easing the remnants of your earlier discomfort.

Azriel nodded solemnly but his eyes betrayed his mirth. "Absolutely. It’s all in the name of health," he assured you, drawing you even closer within the safe harbor of his arms. The proximity was charged with your shared jest. It softened the edges of the day’s pain and discomfort, replacing it with a comforting intimacy.

Wrapped in the warmth of Azriel's embrace you couldn't help but play along with his cheeky suggestion. Your tone light but laced with mock consideration. "Well, if it’s for health reasons," you mused before giving him a playful look, "then I suppose we should probably follow doctor’s orders, shouldn’t we?"

Azriel's smile widened. His eyes alight with amusement and a hint of mischief. "Correct," he replied, his voice low and teasing. "It’s important to take health matters very seriously."

The playful banter and light-hearted mood set a comforting ease between you two and as you both settled in closer the earlier discomforts seemed to melt away. Instead replaced by a shared anticipation and warmth. Your laughter and his soft chuckles filled the room, creating a bubble of joy and closeness that made the rest of the world fade away. You leaned closer to him whispering conspiratorially, "Then let’s not waste any more time on formalities." Azriel's response was a gentle squeeze at your hip before pulling you even closer. As you both prepared to follow through on the playful prescription, keeping the mood light and deeply connected. This tender moment was filled with laughter and soft promises. It was a perfect, shared escape from the day's earlier challenges.

The next morning sunlight streamed softly through the curtains casting a gentle glow across the room where you and Azriel lay tangled in the sheets. The peaceful air was filled with the quiet sounds of Velaris awakening outside. Azriel was already awake and watching the light play across your face. He brushed a loose strand of hair from your eyes.

"Good morning," he murmured, his voice soft with affection. The events of the previous night had not only brought relief but had also woven a deeper layer of intimacy and trust between you.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked with a hint of a cheeky smile playing at the corners of his lips. The playful twinkle in his eyes was unmistakable clearly alluding to the 'therapeutic activities' from the night before. "Did the... treatment help?"

You couldn't help but laugh at his antics. The sound of your laughter was light and clear, a stark contrast to the discomfort of the previous day. "Yes, I believe it did," you replied as you matched his playful tone. "Doctor’s orders might just be the best medicine."

Azriel's laugh joined yours, the sound warm and comforting. As the laughter faded he shifted to a more serious tone, though his eyes still held a gentle warmth. "I mean it, though," he said earnestly. "I’m here for you, whatever you need. If there’s anything else that can help or something different you want to try next time, just tell me."

You reached out, tracing a line along his jaw with your fingers, moved by his sincerity and openness. "Thank you, Az. It means everything to me that you’re here and so willing to help. We'll just keep adjusting and figuring it out. And I promise I won’t be so… bitchy next time."

Azriel nodded with a smirk forming across his face at your words. His hand covering yours. "Absolutely," he agreed. There was a gentle determination in his tone. "Whatever comes, we face it."

The moment was simple yet profound, affirming the depth of your connection. It was these instances—of laughter, shared vulnerability, and light planning for the future—that deepened your bond, making it stronger with each challenge faced and each joy shared. As you both lay there, the morning light seemed to promise new beginnings and the assurance that no matter what challenges awaited you would meet them with love and a bit of humor always at hand.

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[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ok I just saw your Vamp!Rhys brain rot headcanons post and I'm letting you know right now if you do not develop them into full blown chapters for Vamp!Rhys I'll literally sue for emotional damages ok thank you <3

lol I suppose I can make that happen ;)

------------------------------------------------------

Ancient Recipes

The bed is, surprisingly, empty when you awaken, the last rays of evening light filtering in through a crack in the curtains. Your hands brush absently through the cold sheets as if they could tell you where he’d disappeared off to. He’s not usually up this early.

With a yawn, you slide out of bed and yank on one of his discarded shirts, leaving the silky button down open down the middle in a half-hearted attempt at decency before padding off in search of him. 

The library and game room is empty, the curtains pulled tight, the air a little stuffy. You can hear Cassian snoring from behind his closed door and a tendril of shadow still guard’s Azriel’s door handle, telling you that he’s not off with either of them this early.

Eventually, you find yourself wandering down into the kitchen, expecting it to be empty too, but figuring it’s worth a shot. You’re surprised to find Rhys bent over the stove, shirtless, sleep pants slung low over his hips as he carefully chops a mix of vegetables. His ears twitch as you walk towards him, a sure sign that he hears your approach. 

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” he says without turning. You can hear the pout in his voice without seeing the purse of those full lips you love so much.

“Missed you,” you say as you slide your arms around his waist and bury your head between his shoulder blades.

He sets the knife down long enough to run a hand over where yours hold his waist. “I was coming right back.”

You place a kiss against his spine before leaning around him to get a better view of what he’s doing. “I didn’t know you could cook?”

“I am a thousand years old, Darling,” he purrs. “That’s a long time to not learn how to prepare a meal.”

There’s an old, hand written book propped up against the stone wall, the swirling script fading under the cruel hands of time in a language long forgotten. The pages are brittle and yellow now, the date written in the corner nearly illegible. 

“What are you making?”

Skilled hands throw in diced vegetables and dried herbs into a pot simmering with some sort of red sauce. “Something my mother used to make me,” he says softly. “These are her recipes.”

Your chest tightens. He’d told you about the hunters that had killed his mother and sister not long after that night when those hunters had come for you. He’d, understandably, been on edge since, the encounter bringing up a lot of old memories he hadn’t touched. It’s little surprise that he would try and find some solace here.

“Smells good,” you say. 

He twists and pulls you in front of him, so you can watch as he works. “Can’t find all the right ingredients,” he frowns. “Some of these spices have been lost to time. I think these will work instead. Hopefully.”

Rhys dips a wooden spoon into the bubbling liquid and brings it to your lips, “Try this for me?”

You give it a second to cool before taking a taste, the mixture both earthy and spicy, but deliciously warm. “It’s good!”

“Yes, but is it right?” He insists.

You tilt your head up to look at him, brows raised, “How would I know, Rhysand? By the sound of it, most of the things you’re missing were lost to the world before my parents were even born.”

You think if he was capable of it he might have blushed against the mistake. Instead, he kisses the top of your head. “I suppose I could ask Az.” He licks a bit of the mixture, frowning as he goes, before putting the spoon directly back into the pot. Apparently a key ingredient in ancient recipes is a little bit of saliva. 

A moment later, the shadowy vampire emerges, summoned for this oh so important errand. Azriel’s dark hair is sleep tousled, shadows swirling lazily around his bare shoulders. Any other morning with the two males looking like this you would have climbed them like a tree, but this morning is apparently for other things, as Rhys nearly flings the spoon in Azriel’s direction. 

“What am I missing?” He demands.

Az takes a taste and spits it into the sink. “What did you do?!” He all but shoves the two of you out of the way to reach for the spice rack in the cupboards above your head. “Your mother would have beat you with that spoon.”

“I know!” Rhys huffs. “What did I forget?”

Azriel starts opening old jars of dried herbs and adding them into the pot. “Egg and thyme for one thing, dumbass.”

Rhys grabs the book off the counter and looks more closely at the recipe, keeping one arm around your shoulders to have you close even so. “Oh, yeah I did forget the egg.”

Azriel cracks four of them into the mixture, before throwing in more herbs. “You’re cooking it too high too.”

Rhys brushes his lips over your hair. “Wanted to bring it to you in bed before you woke up.”

You twist and lean up on your toes to give him a proper good morning kiss. “I would have loved it anyway.”

“Human taste buds are disgusting,” Azriel huffs.

You hear Cassian’s footsteps before you see the half-awake vampire stumble into the kitchen. “Are we cooking what I think we are?”

“Not if Rhys has anything to do with it,” Azriel huffs.

“It was for Y/N!” Rhys returns. “I didn’t make enough for everyone.”

“But she’s so good at sharing,” Cassian says with a wink, his sleep thick voice enough to make heat pool between your legs. 

Rhys lifts you up and places you on the counter, beside where Azriel still chops more ingredients, so he can kiss you deeper this time. “Mine.” 

“Not with your cooking she’s not,” Azriel quips. 

Cassian tuts as he comes over to Azriel’s other side and dips a finger into the now simmering pot. Azriel smacks his hand with the back of the wooden spoon and Rhys hisses, fangs glinting in the candlelight.

“How are you supposed to take care of the little human if you can’t even cook her a decent meal?” He brings his fingers to his mouth for a taste, then frowns. “Do neither of you own any peppers at all? What is this, baby food?”

“I added the aleppo, just as the recipe said!” Rhys retorts. 

“You definitely didn’t! Your mother never made anything this bland!” Cassian insists.

“I’m following the recipe!”

Azriel snatches the book, scarred hands thumbing quickly through the pages. “I remember it being spicier.”

Rhys frowns. “Maybe we’re thinking of that other recipe she used to make?”

“No that one was for dinner,” Cassian returns. “I definitely remember a spicy breakfast dish. Especially on cold winter mornings.”

“He’s right,” Azriel chimes in, eyes still glued to the pages. 

“I mean, our tastes did change when we turned, maybe we’re the problem?” Cassian asks, running a hand over his face in thought. 

“Your tastes change when you turn?” You ask.

“A little,” Rhys says with a frown, violet eyes on the dish. “Maybe you’re right, Cass. Did you think it was spicy, Darling?” 

“A little,” you reply. “It could use more, I think, but again, I’ve never tried it before so I’m not exactly an expert.”

Cass peers into the pot. “It looks right.”

Azriel sets the book back on the counter with nothing short of reverence. “Guess it is us.”

Rhys’s face falls, it’s like watching him lose a piece of the past. You take his face in your hands and kiss the tip of his nose. “I think any mother would be proud to know that you loved something so much that you put all this effort into sharing it, whether is tastes the same or not.”

His grin is soft, like the kiss he plants on your lips, taking his time to pull out of it.

“Thank you for sharing a piece of you with me,” you say.

Azriel scoops it up into four small portions, the wooden dishes old and reminiscent of a time long passed. Not the formal dining ware they bring out at parties, but a little piece of home that managed to survive the passage of time. 

It’s delicious, Az had been right about needing the egg and thyme, it brings a more rounded flavor to the dish. But it would have been equally fine if Rhys had brought the first attempt to you in bed, simply because he loved you enough to try and make something for you even when he could not fully enjoy it himself. It tastes all the better because it’s something the four of you can share, can make new memories out of. You certainly will not forget it, not even in the coming change of your mortality. 

“Well now you’ve got me curious for what other ancient recipes you’ve been hiding,” you say as the meal comes to a close. 

“You make us sound like we’re old as dirt,” Cassian huffs. 

You wink up at Rhys as he kisses your temple. “A thousand years is a long time. What else can you make for me?”

[erissheiress]

feyre and rhys becoming your sugar mommy/daddy :)

in the early days of discovering and accepting your bond with them, they lavish you with everything you could possibly want. Thoughtful gifts, quality time with both of them, individually and together, affection, praise and compliments that made your face heat up, everything.

What took the most getting used to was how they always seemed to know exactly what you needed. If you needed space, you got it. If you needed time being held as closely as possible to both of them, well then that's what you got.

Rhysand's forte was expense. Fine dining, shopping trips to expensive places, lingerie was his favourite he would unashamedly admit, following you to all the little bookshops, cafes and trinket stalls your heart desired. Anything to see that smile on your face

Feyre, although she was also more than happy to spend money on her girl, preferred a more casual way of showing her adoration. Picnics, dates where she would paint you as you talked, napping in one of the Night Court's beautiful gardens, just quality time with her beautiful mate :)

Their favourite time to spoil you was when they could do it together. late mornings together, shopping as they buy everything your eyes linger on for more than a second, showering you in kisses and affection, never letting you forget how much they love you, and how they never expect anything in return, only that you keep that bright light in your eyes shining 🥺🥺

[merwgue]

The idea of Nyx and Tamlin becoming mates in a platonic, parental sense is an incredibly profound and heartwarming twist. It redefines what it means to be a mate—showing that the deepest connections aren’t always romantic but can also be based on trust, care, and the unconditional love found in parental relationships.

Imagine Nyx, the child of two deeply traumatized and distracted parents—Feyre and Rhysand. Despite their best efforts, they rush into parenthood for all the wrong reasons, feeling the pressure of impending danger and the belief that time is running out. They're powerful, yes, but so burdened by their past that they can’t give Nyx the love and attention he needs to thrive. They try to be present, but emotional neglect slowly seeps in, leaving Nyx feeling alone, unloved, and desperate for connection. They compensate with material things, but it’s not enough. Nyx is still just a boy, craving someone who will truly see him.

At around ten years old, in an attempt to make his parents notice him, Nyx starts sneaking off to the Spring Court. What begins as an act of rebellion turns into something entirely unexpected. Tamlin—who has been broken, hollow, and struggling to rebuild his life—finds this small, vulnerable boy suddenly seeking him out. At first, Tamlin is hesitant. He’s never been good with children. He doesn’t know how to connect, especially not after all the devastation he’s been through. But slowly, Nyx keeps coming back, visiting him again and again. Tamlin begins to open up, maybe not in grand gestures, but in small acts of kindness—offering Nyx a safe space, listening when he speaks, giving him attention that’s not laced with expectation or distraction.

As the months pass, something shifts. Nyx starts to see Tamlin not as the feared High Lord of the Spring Court, but as someone who cares for him in a way that his own parents cannot. He finds solace in Tamlin’s presence, and Tamlin, in turn, finds a sense of purpose in looking after Nyx. It’s not about power or obligation—it’s simply about being there for this boy who so clearly needs a father figure. Tamlin never asked to be a father, but he can’t ignore the bond that’s quietly forming between them.

Then one day, after countless visits, Nyx accidentally calls Tamlin “papa.” It slips out in a moment of vulnerability, perhaps after a particularly rough day back at home. Immediately, Nyx freezes, terrified of how Tamlin might react. He starts to apologize, stumbling over his words, thinking he’s crossed a line. But instead of pulling away, Tamlin wraps him in a hug, a genuine, comforting embrace, and quietly says, “If you want me to, I will.” And in that moment, everything shifts.

The world seems to stop for both of them. The bond that snaps into place isn’t the romantic mating bond we’re used to seeing—it’s something entirely different. It’s a bond built on trust, on care, on the love of a protector for a child who needs him. It’s a parental bond, the kind that says, I will be here for you, always. I will keep you safe. I will love you like my own.

Nyx finally feels seen, finally feels loved in a way that’s not forced or transactional. And Tamlin, who has been so lost and broken, finds a new sense of purpose. He never expected to be anyone’s father, but in that moment, he becomes one—not because of blood or obligation, but because of the bond that has formed between him and this boy. Nyx starts calling him "papa," and Tamlin, despite all his fears, accepts it with open arms.

This is why Sarah J. Maas should expand the idea of mates beyond just romantic connections. Mates should be about completing each other’s souls, in whatever form that takes. For Nyx and Tamlin, it’s not about romantic love—it’s about the love between a father and a child, a love that grows naturally and beautifully out of shared understanding, trust, and care. And in the end, it’s this bond that brings healing to both of them.

[azriels-shadowsinger]

Dying thinking about rhys literally pining and hardcore simping for reader, literally showering reader in praise, flattery and gifts because he no longer gives a damn about hiding his feelings, almost proposing to reader whenever he can and reader's just. completely clueless about it 💀 and she thinks it's just rhys being friendly. Poor man would be absolutely devastated when he goes one day "[name] i'm in love with you" and she just goes "me too, i love all my friends!"

and then it finally clicks for you in the middle of the night, so she runs up to his room and says she’s in love with him too🥰😩

This is adorable. The poor guy would be so confused.

Your POV

You and Rhys had known each other for over 400 years. It’s safe to say that you were an integral part of his inner circle and one of his closest friends. And during that 400 years, that’s all that you and Rhys ever were. Friends. Obviously, the thought had crossed your mind once or twice or a hundred times of what it would be like to be with him romantically, but Rhys made it very clear a long time ago that he only views you as a friend, so you pushed your crush so far down that you rarely ever see him that way anymore.

A few months ago Rhys came up with the idea to have weekly hangouts, usually at nice restaurants because that’s just his style apparently. He always paid, despite your protests, and he always arrived with flowers or gifts. He’s just generous like that.

———

Rhysand’s POV

I don’t know how to make it more clear to y/n. A few months ago I finally decided to stop hiding how I feel and try to show her with dates, gifts, and whatever else I thought would show her how much she means to me. Somehow she got it in her head that our dinner dates were just casual friend dates and that my flowers and gifts to her were just a nice and friendly gesture. I absolutely adore her innocence, but gods I wish she was more observant about what I’m doing.

I knock on her door and wait for her to open, flowers and a gift box in hand. Y/n opens the door and I suck in a breath. She is absolutely stunning, as per usual, and all thoughts leave my head. Maybe that’s why I have never been able to form the words to tell her how I feel, or why when she tried to discuss the possibility of us being together centuries ago, I shut it down and told her I only see her as a friend. Cauldron boil me, that has to be the stupidest thing I have ever done. I tried to take back my words the next day, but she acted like nothing had happened and has been completely platonic with me ever since. Every time I work up the courage to tell her, she just looks at me with those perfect eyes and I lose all my words.

“Rhys?” She waves a hand in front of my face, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Oh, uh, hi.” Shit, I sound like an idiot. I clear my throat and regain my composure, returning to the confident and calm Rhysand who doesn’t bumble like a fool. “You look exquisite tonight, darling.” I say with a wink. Y/n gives a small giggle, music to my ears.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Rhys.” She gestures to the flowers and gift. “Are those for me?” Her eyes light up. If showering her with gifts just because I want to wasn’t enough of a reason, her reaction every time I give her the gifts would be. I nod, handing her the small box and the flowers. Hopefully, she doesn’t notice my hands trembling.

When y/n opens the gift box, she sees a pair of sapphire earrings and a matching necklace inside. Her mouth hangs open in awe.

“Beautiful jewels for a beautiful female.” I gesture for her to turn so I can put the necklace on her. She lifts her hair away from her neck, and when my fingers brush the nape of her neck, I feel a spark that shoots through my entire body. I quickly clasp the necklace and y/n turns back around with a wide smile, admiring the necklace. Gods, she looks beautiful.

———

Your POV

“This necklace is gorgeous, Rhys!” You give him a friendly hug, ignoring the way he holds you close. “This is way prettier than the jewels you got Amren for Winter Solstice, she’s going to be so jealous!” You giggle. “You really go all out on gifts for your friends, we are all so lucky!” You grin at him. Rhys’ face falls for a split second, before his usual cocky grin returns. That's strange, but you decide to look past it.

“Nothing but the best for you., darling” You ignore the way that his words fill you with warmth and how they always seem to have a deeper meaning. Obviously, he is just a very generous friend.

———

Rhysand’s POV

Dinner was lovely, as per usual because I always make sure to plan our dates with expert precision. Y/n and I walk back through the streets of Velaris while pointing out different shops that we want to check out in the future. I take note of which shops she shows extra interest in so I can take her there at a later date. When we arrive at her door, my hands get shaky again. I decided during dinner that I could not stand her not knowing anymore. I’m just going to tell her how I feel and go from there. Hopefully, she feels the same, but at this point I have no gods damn clue how she feels.

We stand in front of her door and I want to just tell her everything, but when she looks at me I cannot figure out the right words to say. I don't know what I'm going to do if she doesn't feel the same. I cannot stand to lose her, even if we are only ever friends. Maybe this isn't such a good idea. Fuck, no, I just need to be honest.

“Y/n, I need to tell you… these dinners and the gifts…” I stumble over my words again, just like every time before. Gods, I just need to say it! “I love you, y/n!” I blurt out. She stares at me for a moment, and I search her expression for any indication of how she feels.

“I love you too, Rhys. You know how much I love all of you. I couldn’t ask for better friends.” She grins.

Oh.

I have absolutely nothing to say to that, so I just say goodnight and head to my own room. Is she really that clueless, or is she just trying to save my feelings without ruining our friendship? Either way, I don’t know what to do at this point.

———

Your POV

You’re sitting in bed after bathing and putting on your night clothes, admiring the necklace and earrings that Rhys got you. You swear these look familiar, but you cannot figure out where you recognize them from.

As you lay down to sleep, you replay tonight in your head. It’s always extra difficult to ignore the centuries-old crush for Rhys when he treats you better than any male you have dated. And when he says things like he said tonight.

“I love you, y/n.” Gods, you wish you could hear that from him in the way you secretly feel it still. You shut your eyes and try to disregard the warm feeling in your chest at his words.

Hours later, sleep seems to be out of the picture. You decide to take a walk around the halls of the House of Wind and hopefully, that will settle your mind.

You walk aimlessly through different hallways until you arrive at the hall of portraits. You admire each picture as you walk, especially the ones with Rhys in them. At the end of the hall is an old portrait of Rhys’ mother. You stare at the picture, admiring the female who raised the best person you know, when you see it. A sapphire necklace and matching sapphire earrings. The jewelry he gave you belonged to his mother. Why would he give you something so meaningful? Unless…

The clarity hits you like a ton of bricks, and you start running to Rhys’ room.

———

Rhysand’s POV

I get woken up by pounding on the door. Groggily, I walk to the door and open it, finding a frantic y/n on the other side. What the hell is she doing here this late?

She moves inside my room and shuts the door. I look at her expectantly, waiting to see what she will say.

“What are you-“ She cuts me off.

“You gave me your mother’s jewelry.” Oh shit. I only nod. “You gave me your mother’s jewelry?” She asks this time, sounding confused.

“Y/n, I do-“ She cuts me off again.

“When you said earlier that you love me. Did you mean as a friend?” Her eyes look so hopeful. She finally figured it out. I shake my head and she sucks in a breath. I finally see the words I have wanted to say for so long clearly in my head.

“Three centuries ago when you asked me if I ever thought about us being more, I lied. I got scared and I lied. I thought about it every day. I still do. And when I tried to fix it the next day you just seemed to be done with the idea, so I figured I was right to have lied and that you didn't like me that way. But these last few months I’ve been trying to show you how I feel and it has been driving me crazy not knowing if you feel the same way.” I force all my words out before I get too nervous again.

“Rhys…” She steps closer. “I am the biggest idiot in Prythian. You have been taking me on these lovely dates and I thought you only wanted to be friends. The truth is, I have liked you for centuries. I’ve been forcing myself to ignore that fact since you told me you only wanted to be friends.”

“I definitely do not want to be just friends.“ I let out a breathy laugh and wrap my arms around y/n. “But just a heads up, our dates are going to get much more extravagant now that you actually know that they’re dates.”

I hope yall like this! Feel free to keep sending requests! I’m slowly working my way thru all of them :)

[maisonaime]

Give and Take

Softdom!Cassian x Healer!Reader

Premise: You get back after a long day of work and Cassian is ready to take over everything, you give him control so that you don’t lose it entirely. 

Splitting this into two parts so that I don't lose my mind over it anymore. Love to all who jumped on this prompt!

Warnings: Dom/sub dynamics, smutty fluff, emotional overstimulation, self-sacrificing, poor self-care (bordering on self-harm), injury and slight gore, 18+ minors DNI

Part 1:

The last flight of stairs up to the rooms you and Cassian occupied in the River House seemed steeper than you had ever remembered, dragging yourself up the stairs was utterly Sisyphean, the last stretch in a long day that had frustrated tears finally pricking in your eyes. You were tired to your bones, fed up with being hunched over a desk, and the day was still far from done over eleven hours after it had begun. You woke and dressed when the sky was dark, and were returning hours after the braziers lining the hallways had been lit.

You had two bags hanging in the crook of one elbow, full of brewing equipment that needed to be polished with a protective tonic before being used in class tomorrow. In the same arm, you were clutching a thick stack of essays requiring grading. Tucked under your other arm was a folio of research on restorative therapies for Illyrians who had their wings clipped. Slung over your shoulder from training was your weapons belt, sheathed with two daggers and a longsword Cassian had wrought for you as a wedding gift.  

The file of research slipped from your arms, scattering down all the steps you had just climbed in complete disarray. You made a small sound of anguish and finally, the tears were flowing freely. You were so grateful for it all, for this beautiful life you had. You were grateful for the research you were able to do to find a way to reverse the horrors wrought on Illyrian females. You were enthusiastic about teaching your students, passing along ancient knowledge to the trainees who would one day be your peers. You itched for training with Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn; pouring intentional movement into your body after long days of obligatory motion.

Healing people, feeling your tendrils of power sweep over broken bones, seeking out the source of symptoms, touching the broken parts of people’s souls. It was the greatest gift, one that multiplied every time you held a newborn babe, watched someone run or dance on legs that had never worked before, and felt the relief of familial caregivers as you restored hearing or sight or even small amounts of lucidity to their aging parents. It was quite possibly the only gift that you valued more than your precious mate. The one who you had remade and been remade by. 

 You were so grateful for it all, for this beautiful life you had. But there were some days when you felt the burden of worlds bearing down on you. Days when failed healings left you shattered. Days when there was simply too much to do and not enough hours to do it. 

“What’s all this sweetheart.” Cassian appeared at the top of the stairs, his darkened gaze forcing you to rethink your current predicament. 

Despite his intimidating size and title, the Lord of Bloodshed was as gentle a lover as you had ever known. He had honed his resolve over the centuries, along with all his other skills. Even in the most feral moments between the two of you, lost entirely to the bond in skin and teeth and brutish groans, he would never lose himself. He could balance himself over you for hours with just the head of his cock pressing into your center, and could sit perfectly still while stuffed down your pretty little throat. 

What he couldn’t do was abide by disobedience. And disobedience to Cassian was self-neglect. Disobedience was forgetting to eat, not getting enough sleep. Disobedience was piling too much onto your plate. Disobedience was trying to lug over one-hundred pounds of shit up the stairs after you had left before dawn and were returning long after dark. And disobedience would earn you punishment.

—

Ever since you had helped Azriel rehabilitate his shredded wings after Hybern wrought his havoc, you had remained in close connection with the High Lord’s Inner Circle. Your attentive and tranquil care healed both Azriel’s wings and the lingering horror that wracked his soul in the following weeks as he tried to move on from those paralyzing moments of agony. You treated his flesh and soul with equal gentleness, cementing your regard as a healer with the capacity to treat vulnerability with as much tenderness as you treated wounds and sickness.

When Cassian lay broken and bleeding, of course, it was you who was summoned to the tent. He was like every other patient before in your ability and desire to help him. But he was also like no other patient before because he was your mate. You could still feel his screaming cleaving the air and reverberating through your jaw, dulling all senses to anything but him. His brothers had to hold him down with tears in their eyes; Feyre lost her stomach; Mor just sat in the corner silently shaking. You were cursed to remember every ounce of hopelessness in his eyes as he scrambled away from your hands, refusing any of your help or assessment for fear of what you might find.

You found femur bone shattered like glass, tearing into the muscle and tendon of his massive thigh. You found snapped cartilage, torn muscle, and severe hemorrhaging that nearly cut off blood supply to his entire left wing; the damage so bad it would have resulted in field amputation had you not been there. You found the husk of a man who had been so sure he was going to die without being able to save his family, without even being able to say goodbye. 

You burned yourself out with the raw power that flooded from you as you were confronted with the primal need to save him. You gave yourself entirely to the will of the goddess that had blessed your hands. At one point Rhys had to blanket your mind in darkness so that you wouldn’t drain that well of power entirely. 

When finally, the damage left could only be healed by time, you had collapsed over him and refused to move. Unable to. Gentle, weak arms had dragged you ungracefully to a warm chest, to a beating heart. The only thing you could hear through the thundering haze of your overwrought senses. 

“Don’t you ever do that again, for anyone. Not even me sweetheart.” 

And then it was Cassian’s turn to heal you. To watch over your trembling body as you recovered from the depletion of your powers. He fed and bathed you. Stretched and massaged the muscles that felt as though they had been filleted by lightning. Braided your hair to keep it from knotting during the long hours you slept. 

He poured himself into you in a way you had never had before. In a way you had only ever provided to others, never received yourself. In a way you hadn’t ever known you wanted so badly until you were sobbing hoarsely into his arms, years of self-sacrifice pouring out of you.

It didn’t stop there. Only when you had settled into living together did either of you realize the extent to which overextending yourself had become a way of life. The first time you came home past midnight, Cass was in a panic thinking you had been hurt or taken. When you stumbled through the door on legs bent with exhaustion and informed him that you had eaten exactly three crackers and a handful of berries all day, he just stared at you for a long time.

“How do you expect to save everyone if you destroy yourself in the process? This level of self-sacrifice isn’t noble, it’s irresponsible. Now, get on your fucking knees.” Your head snapped to him, pinning him with a disbelieving scoff. But he was dead serious. 

In a flash he had your hair gathered in a stern but gentle fist, and you had your mouth very, very full. He fucked your mouth with a fervor, his fingers finding the corners so he could pop your jaw open further and push himself even deeper down your throat. 

He came with a hiss, freeing a hand from your ruined mouth to pound in a fist against the unyielding stone wall. 

Then he scooped you up and laid you in bed, pouring water with lemon and honeyed tea down your throat. Leaving your side briefly, only to return with a veritable feast of foods specifically selected to strengthen your body and magic. His care was almost overwhelming, but you found yourself surrendering to his vigil over you.

—

“Put it down” he said, pure authority radiating from him.

“Put what down?” you feigned. 

“All of it, sweetheart. And don’t make me ask again. I’d hate to have to take you down to Az’s workroom. He put up such a fuss last time, even after I cleaned everything in front of him.” There was no room for disobedience in his tone, even if the remark had you chuckling. 

You struggled to unburden yourself, unsure of how to extend your arms and set down one item without imperiling another. You met Cassian’s gaze with pleading eyes that quickly turned fiery at his smugness. You drew yourself up slowly, eyes narrowing…

And dropped everything from your hands, letting the first bag of glassware slide off your arms and crash to the ground – even if the sound of tinkering glass made something in you twist and cringe. 

“Don’t be a fucking brat, you know it’ll only make things worse.” he snapped, lips pulling back in a feral grin as he raked his gaze over your body, your leather-bound dips and curves displayed to him unobstructed. 

The belt you set down gently, minding your beautiful blade. In the middle of the night after your mating ceremony, in the haze of your frenzy, Cassian had marched you down to the deepest chambers of the Court of Nightmares, where the mountain burned nearly as hot as your bond. You had watched with lust-glazed eyes as he hammered out a blade and fused it to the hilt he had already carved and polished—smooth, rounded obsidian imbued with the cavernous powers of the Mountains. 

He fucked you hard into the stone floor and then soared into the night sky with you and the weapon, cooling skin and steel alike. And when you finally touched ground again, he wasted no time showing you exactly why he chose that particular shape for the handle. 

A snap of his fingers had the scattered papers piled neatly beside it. Then you gingerly set down the second bag of glassware, cringing as you considered how your eager disobedience would reflect back in Cassian’s treatment.

“Good.” he crooned. “Now go bathe and wait for me in bed.”

Cass abided by your whims for the most part, always eager to take care of you but never pressuring you to submit. He could always tell when you needed to give away control. When you needed to be told what and when to eat, how to dress, when to speak, and when to be silent. When to “get on your fucking knees” and when to “lay down darling, that’s it, now hush my love and let me work.” And he would give it to you every time without tire, for the rest of his days. 

As you passed him to make towards your suite, he sidestepped into your path and halted you with a hand to your shoulder, the palm of his other hand cupping your face. He looked down at you with gentle eyes. You leaned into his touch instinctively, eager to shove away the pressures of your autonomy, even if just for the next few hours.

“I counted five things that you placed over your own needs today. Your patients, your students, your research, your training, your healing. Then you had to go and double it by bratting off and making a mess of your things.” He glanced around, unimpressed at your display of resistance. 

“It’ll take me time to fix and polish the glassware and reorganize your papers. So you’ll wait. You’ll be doing a lot of that tonight. It only makes sense, I think, that you take ten hard edges before we think about next steps.” His voice was hard, determined, even as his hands were so so soft.

Your eyes widened, head shaking even as his words had your blood thrumming with desire. 

“Yes, sweetheart. Yes, you will. Maybe this time you’ll finally learn your lesson about what happens when we deny ourselves what we need.”

[loving-and-dreaming]

Would anyone be interested in writing a fic for a reader who kinda hides her birthday from everyone because she’s used to it being a disappointment and whever it is finds out and does like a cute little birthday celebration with just them or with their little family?? I am trying to prepare myself for a disappointing birthday and would love a comfort fic. But as always no pressure no worries and most of all ignore if you want to but thank you for reading it this far 💕

[jeannineee]

Divine

Rhysand x Reader

a/n: quick little blurb, because I can’t get this idea out of my head. I am a whore.

nsfw under the cut (18+ please)

The sight of the High Lord of the Night Court kneeling before you was sinful.

His skillful tongue worked at your entrance, through your folds. Each time his mouth wrapped around your clit, you swore you were actually seeing stars.

You weaved your fingers through Rhys’s onyx locks, tugging at them with each wave of pleasure that shot through your body. Those pretty noises you were making only encouraged him.

Just when you thought your mate couldn’t bring you any more pleasure, his voice rang through your mind, each word bringing your closer and closer to your release.

You taste divine, darling.

Making such a mess for me.

Open your eyes. Don’t want you to miss a thing, love.

As far as Rhys was concerned, your body was his altar, and Cauldron be damned if he wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life worshiping you.

[blue-siphoned]

[princess-tulip-writes]

honey bun • poly!batboys

genre: smut

summary: reader is ovulating, so her three mates make it their mission to get her pregnant by pumping her full.

a/n: this piece serves two meanings: my 1k special, with a dedication to my lovely @redbleedingrose for both the idea and a lil gift. i hope you all enjoy!

you knew that the moment you agreed to move into town house with all three of your mates that it was going to be very chaotic— sexy, but chaotic.

and mother, were you right.

everyday was something new, adventurous and full of love, even though each male had a different way of expressing their love, communicating was never much of an issue. you were spoiled rotten by the three illyrian’s, both emotionally and financially, and never doubted the amount of love they had for you.

although, they were very wholesome and sweet, they sure could fuck like they hated you— especially during fertility season.

“fuck, get ready take another load, baby.” cassian grunts out into your shoulder, feeling his balls tighten as he ruts into you.

you were already pumped with your high lord’s cum, twice, and you knew there was four more rounds of semen to come before you were anywhere near finished for the night— not that you were complaining.

it was like a dream to be pumped full with not only one, but three different sets of illyrian cum, and at least two times each at that. the consequences being a sore cunnie the next morning and a possible babe announcement next month; exactly what they were hoping for.

cassian came seconds after for the first time that night, joining his brother’s sticky mess inside of your womb with his own. his heavy breathes cascaded off of the skin of your neck and sent shivers down your whole body, your shaking legs tightening around his waist and pulling him in deeper— if that was even possible.

“f-fuck, your cunt’s so lovely.” he chuckled into your shoulder, but the laughter faded into a whimper as the new sensitivity of his cock came apparent when you became tighter around him.

the both of you took a breath before the general slowly pulled out of your dripping pussy with a hiss, and softly pushed back into the sopping mess of your cunt.

“so fucking messy in here now.”

a dark chuckle sounded from the right side of the bed, snapping you out of your subby and filled headspace as butterflies abrupt within you from the familiar sound.

rhysand.

you turned your attention to the male, eyes quickly finding his violet ones and softening them as he takes in your fucked out state. the smirk on his face gentles, yet the fist around his cock doesn’t flatter.

he cocks his head at you, a tell of his fake sympathetic mood.

“awe, my darling, do you feel full already?” he asks softly.

you babble an incoherent agreement, one that only your mates would understand, followed by a fast nod and a whimper as cassian hits your sensitive gummy walls over and over and over until your stomach knots again.

your mates knew too well that you were close again, and the two beside you quicken the pace on their cocks as the one inside of you fucks you faster, ignoring the painful sensitivity of his cock.

“look at me, pretty girl.”

azriel.

you obeyed thoughtlessly, immediately directing your eye contact to the shadowsinger, where your head had been laid on his thigh all night.

“good, good girl.” his free hand found the side of your face, grimacing at the left over saliva on your cheek where rhysand had licked a few tears away earlier, but smiled down at you anyway.

“wanna cum baby?” he asked gently, eyes intently watching yours for hesitation or pain but was met with an enthusiastic nod instead. “you can cum then, princess. go ahead.”

with a small scream and a harsh arch of your back, you did. you clenched tightly around cassian’s cock once more, creaming around the thick base and pushing some illyrian cum out accidentally.

“such a pretty girl.” rhysand spoke as he watched the way your body shook. “one more round from you cass, then it’s azriel’s turn.”

“ ‘s not gonna be long then.” cassian responded, feeling the euphoria of another orgasm closely approaching as his strong hips picked up inside of you, slamming into your hips roughly and undoubtedly bruising them.

you didn’t seem to mind, in fact they all recall watching you buck you hips to meet his, as if you were begging for another fill of his cum.

a wish that would very soon be fulfilled.

“she wants it, cassian.” azriel encouraged. “she wants it so bad.”

with a loud growl, warm liquid coated your walls once more and joined the other three puddles in your womb.

the male above you shook lightly, huffing out breaths as he regained his strength to switch. but you were too tight, too warm, too wet to pull out of, a drug cassian shamelessly become addicted to as he stilled his hips.

after a minute too long, the oldest brother shoved at the male’s shoulder with a hiss that meant ‘move’.

“you’re lucky she likes you so much, brother.” he groaned before reluctantly removing himself.

though he didn’t roll over without a ‘thank you’ kiss to your lips, slipping his tongue along your own quickly before joining rhysand against the head board.

“my turn, isn’t it, beautiful?” azriel mumbled to you, his thumb stroking your jaw softly as he carefully slid his thigh from under your neck and slipping off the bed. “do you need a break?”

as usual, you shook you head to the offer as you made grabby hand motions at him, watching your mate position himself between your thighs with a lazy smile on both your faces.

his eyes studied your face for any pain or discomfort as he tapped the head of his hungry cock on your clit lightly, teasing you just as he always did.

“put it in, please.” you whined causing all three of your mates to chuckle softly at your eagerness for the spymaster’s cum.

rhysand quirked an eyebrow at you. “i don’t remember you being in any place to call the shots, darling.”

before you could apologize, azriel slipped inside of your aching cunt, still standing between your legs but his eyes moved onto your harden nipples. memories of sucking on them previous to your first load of cum of the night flashed through his mind as your lip wobbled at your lord’s scolding tone.

“leave her be, rhys. it’s not her fault her womb loves my cum so much. is it, princess?”

you shook your head, babbling another incoherent version of ‘no’.

“gods, she is so fucking full. so much godsdamn cum inside this cunt, it’s practically leaking out.” azriel hissed to his brothers as seed poured around his cock with each inch deeper that he pushed inside.

“don’t worry, she won’t let it spill, will you, sweetheart?” cassian cooed at you.

“n-no, i-i-i promise.”

azriel smirked at you proudly, and increased the speed of his hips for you.

you gasped when his cock directly pounded into your spongey spot, and you could feel another orgasm approaching already.

“good fucking girl.”

before azriel could announce your impending arrival, rhysand kneeled beside your face, hands cradling your cheeks. confusion spread across your face as he maneuvered your head to his liking, but you understood once the leaking head of his cock pressed to your lips.

“i’d hate to waste my cum, darling, but i’m afraid i can’t wait.” he explained. “open up.”

[delicatereader]

after all... (Azriel x FC)

summary: Azriel gives in on his desires

warnings: fluff, angst, dirty thoughts, a kiss, swearing

a/n: took a break and came back with an acotar obsession I guess

➽────────────────────────────❥

She was dancing and singing in the comfort of a hot shower. A moment of peace, release and simple self-entertainment.

Someone knocked on the door, snapping her out of her own mind. "Enter" she commanded.

"Umm- hello?" a familiar voice muttered. Azriel.

"Here!" the heavy footsteps prowled closer to her location.

Azriel couldn't see anything through the smoke covered glass, but a faint figure. Even if she stopped dancing, her body was still swaying. Side to Side, taking in the burning water.

"I- I should probably come back later" he spoke up

"No need" she replied it a cold, neutral voice

Whilst she was waiting for him to continue, his mind was already someplace else. Somewhere he didn't dare to go before, even though it took him every inch of himself to restrain himself. He imagined, how it would feel to be in the shower with her. Their bodies pressed together, him taking up the entire shower so the only vacant place for her was his hips and his-

"Are you gonna talk or just stare?" she interrupted

"Cause if you are, the view is better over here" she teased. She always thought highly of herself, or atleast that's what she acts like. She wasn't wrong to do so, anyone would die to have such beauty and body.

"What?" he asked

"I mean it's nothing you haven't seen before, especially from my first day at Night Court, if you're that weak to be around a naked woman turn around!" she continued

"Your first day at Night Court?" he spoke up, still still as a statue

"That was what? 30 years ago? Mor had put me in the most slutty dress." she let's out a huff, reminiscing on her past

"31" Az cleared his throat

"What?"

"You've been in this court for 31 years since last month" he informed, looking up as if he could see her almost surprised face through the foggy barrier. She didn't reply or do anything, but kept swaying. She didn't make anything of Azriel knowing those facts, though.

"Very well. Again, why are you here?" she reminded Az

"Oh right." he took the tiniest step forward. "Rhys wants you to plan Feyre's birthday."

"I'm sorry, what?!" she shouted

"Feyre's birthday, it's in 3 weeks. Rhys wants you to plan it.", it felt like more of a command, especially since its from Rhysand. She and the High Lord never got along, but they hid their hatred for Feyre and Feyre's wellbeing only.

"I'm not doing that shit! Ask Elain" she denied, running a hand through her wet hair

"Well Elain is off with Lucien and won't return until the day before the Solstice", this time he spoke in a very...disapproving manner. However, it sparked her amusement.

"I see..." she said, wiping a hand on the smoke covered glass. Only to reveal her face and neck that dripped water. "Not a big fan, are we?" she mocked looking at him clearly, with a grin spreading across her face. His shadows couldn't be seen anywhere from her view.

"Lucien is a respectable and noble male" he stated, he wasn't lying. Even though he wished he was. He stood there staring at his shoes, with his hands tucked inside his pockets, clearly overthinking.

"Towel!" she screeched, startling Azriel put of his stance."Oh not you! the house!", she said in a softer tone.

"Hello?! Towel! Ok! Fuck you! You know you should really see someone about those mood changes!..." she kept going for a minute, complaining and swearing at the ceiling. Azriel grabbed the first towel he saw and swung it over the glass, not being able to handle the loud yelling for another second. For the next 30 seconds all he heard was a "thanks" and movement.

At last, she got out the shower semi dry, wrapping a towel around herself gently.

"What are his requirements?" she asked with pure annoyance written all over her face.

"Umm- he just wants you to put together a party that Feyre would like" he fumbled there, he didn't know if he should run like a coward or stay there and endure the conversation with her looking like that. Especially, since she is bending over all over the place in that tiny towel, which wasn't probably enough to cover all of her.

She wasn't doing anything intentionally, but didn't mind the attention.

She strode past him to a pile of clothes, and bend down to grab it. Her towel rode up just enough to make Az look up, away from her. His mind was on a frenzy, a thirsty one at that.

After that show, she didn't stop. She physically pushed past him and headed towards her armoire. "I mean, I get that he's trying to give Feyre a good birthday and all, and yes, it might mean it a bit more if it's me who planned it...but he does know that I'm not sat idle. Right?" she complained as she tried to reach the top row for a box. Before she could go get a stool, something pressed against her body. She turned around, revealing Azriel holding the box towering over her. His breath was uneven as she said " thanks...again". She didn't let him see a moment of weakness or anything that suggested that she was going absolutely crazy, having him press up against her. Against her almost naked body. She took the box from him, still staring into his soul.

"He knows you don't sit idle and you work hard everyday" he whispered in a deep voice. Suddenly, silence fell between them. More like tension. There was a force, trying to pull them together under all that heavy breathing. She pulled back her stare.

"I mean I get that I'm very good look at, especially almost naked, but you need to stop staring at me like that" she spoke up, giving Azriel a sultry look folding her arms.

"Like what?" he asks, with a faint grin knowing, where he stood and his power in this situation

"Like you're-"

Before she could finish her thought, his consumed him. He close the space between them, kissing her. His hands trailed from her hair to her neck. He devoured every sensation that came from a touch.

They pulled back from each other, faces flushed red. His redder and brighter than ever.

"Illyrians aren't such babies after all" she said tilting her with a cocky smirk, before leaning back into him for more.