#so is sjmprideweek

[chairofchaos]

Today’s the DAY, the sun is SHINING, my draft ISN’T DONE, and and we are KICKING OFF PRIDE WEEK WITH-

*GASP*

My Day 1 draft isn’t done or ready to post

[fourteentrout]

HELLO??? WHAT. this is seriously amazing this made my day!!! Thank you so much anon, and thank you sjmprideweek for organizing this event! Can't wait to take part!

@fourteentrout is writing Tamsand AND Azris now and it is all incredibly well written and wonderful. Highly recommend everyone go read The Solution for some Tamsand x Feyre AND The Beholder for Azris. It's all so so good!!

Tamsand AND Azris?????? Gimme gimme gimme

[slytherin-pen]

Despite It All

pairing: Azriel x Eris

word count: 3.1k

warnings: family’s disapproval of relationship, Azriel cries, Eris makes threats, steamy make out, subtle inclusion of my own trauma about “coming out” (quotes because i wasn’t the one who told them) to my family and religion

a/n: my first Azris fic! i already liked the idea of them but after writing them i am ✨in love✨. written for Day 5 of @sjmprideweek “Family”

Cassian’s voice was a low growl as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Where the hell have you been?”

The tension in the room was suffocating. Rhys sat at the head of the table, resting his chin on his fist, violet eyes unreadable but sharp. Feyre glanced between them, her lips pressed into a thin line, while Mor refused to meet Azriel’s gaze at all.

Azriel—still standing in the entryway to the dining room—sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. He had known this was coming. The moment he’d stepped foot back into Velaris, this feeling of impending doom settled in his stomach. His shadows, now swirling around him restlessly, had felt it too. He had been gone too long. Rookie mistake for a Spymaster, but he had been…held up.

He ensured his stoic mask remained in place before responding. “As you all know, I was on a mission. Some unforeseen circumstances caused me to stay longer but it’s settled now.”

Cassian scoffed. “That's bullshit. Rhys said the mission shouldn’t have taken you more than a couple of days, yet it took you a week and a half. You’re a 500 hundred-year-old Illyrian warrior and the Spymaster for Cauldron-sake, what could have possibly made you stay for that long—” He hesitated, nostrils flaring. “And you smell like Autumn.”

Silence.

Then Rhys’ eyes narrowed slightly. “Azriel,” he said carefully, “why were you in Autumn? Your mission was on the Continent.”

Azriel clenched his jaw. He could lie. He had done it before, buried his truths so deep that even Rhys couldn’t pry them from his mind. But he was so damned tired. Of the lying, the sneaking around—pushing himself farther and farther away from the people he calls his family. He couldn’t do it anymore. They were his family. They would want him to be happy no matter what, right? And logically, this couldn’t go on forever. He would have to tell them someday anyway. Maybe this was the Mother’s way of nudging him toward the truth. Toward living in his truth.

His fingers twitched with nerves and his shadows dutifully hid them from view. It was now or never. “I’ve been with my mate,” Azriel admitted.

A sharp inhale from Feyre. Mor stiffened as if struck. Cassian’s expression darkened, brows knitting together.

Rhys exhaled slowly. “And who, exactly, is your mate?”

Azriel swallowed. “Eris.”

Mor shot to her feet, her chair scraping against the floor. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” Not anymore.

“That bastard—” Cassian started, but Mor cut him off.

“He’s cruel, Azriel. He let me suffer. He would have married me and Mother knows what if I hadn’t—” Her voice broke, her red-painted lip wobbling and Feyre placed a comforting hand on her arm. Morrigan slowly sank back into her chair.

“Perhaps it’s some sort of trick,” Feyre suggested, her wide blue eyes landing on her mate. “Maybe Eris has a daemati and is using Azriel for some sort of plot.”

Rhys frowned, creases forming between his brows. Azriel felt the claws scrape against his shield of shadow and steel, and he shoved them away.

“I know what he’s done,” Azriel said, his voice low. “I know what you all think of him. But you don’t know him. You don’t know his reasons.”

“I know enough,” Mor spat, her golden hair swishing as she shook her head. “And now you expect us to believe that you—what? You love him?”

Azriel didn’t answer. Because love was not a word he had ever used lightly. But Eris had held him close in the warm, firelit halls of the Forest House, tracing the scars on his hands, whispering declarations, and promising things Azriel had never dared dream of. Eris had kissed him slow and passionately, as if they had all the time in the world. As if he cared for Azriel in a way Azriel had never even cared for himself.

“You can’t be serious, brother,” Cassian pleads. “We have hated him for centuries. The things he has done—“ his wings jerked open then shut again with his rising frustration. “You can’t do this.”

“It is not something I have done,” Azriel corrects. “The Mother chose my mate. If you have a problem with it, take it up with her.”

Cassian slammed his hand down on the table as he leaned forward in his seat, rage and betrayal simmering in his hazel eyes. Morrigan and Feyre flinch in their chairs. “Don’t start that shit with me!” he roars. “You’ve kept this from us. From your family! And it’s because you knew it was wrong.”

Wrong.

Wrong?

No that can’t be right.

What he and Eris had was not wrong. Complicated? Sure. Messy? Absolutely. A game of fire and daggers, of harsh words and sharp gazes in the presence of others, always teetering on the edge of something dangerous, something exhilarating. But never wrong.

Because how could it be wrong when Eris looked at him the way he did? Like he was the only person worth watching in a crowded room? How could it be wrong when Azriel lay in his arms and for once in his Cauldron-forsaken life felt whole?

Rhys raised his hand placatingly. “That is not what Cassian meant,” he turned a glare on the bulky Illyrian before meeting Azriel’s eyes again. “Just help us understand, Az. How did this happen? How long have you known?”

Azriel’s shadows whipped around him, his rage rising like a burning fire. “I will not be interrogated. I did not ask you questions, Rhys, when you told us Feyre was your mate. I congratulated you. She was engaged to another High Lord and I was still happy for you. And Cassian—,” Azriel let out a bitter laugh, “you have some nerve to butt into my mating bond.”

Cassian stiffened, confusion marring his face, but Azriel continued. “I have watched you, brother,” spitting out the term like a bad-tasting tonic, “treat the mate you waited 500 years for like dirt under your boot. You belittle her, insult her, let Rhys—another male—dictate her life. I’ll admit I should have stepped in, should have told you what a prick you were being, but I held my tongue. What did I know about having a mate? About watching her wither away and suffer before my very eyes? I felt sorry for you but now—now I only feel sorry for her.”

Rhys had the decency to look guilty. Cassian recoiled as if he had been slapped, the color draining from his face.

Azriel surveyed the family that had always claimed to love him and realized it had never been unconditional.

He nodded to himself, then turned on his heel and left.

He ignored the shouts at his back—the pleas, the apologies. He will not stand for it. Unlike Cassian, he will protect the bond that is so sacred. He will defend his mate when he is not present, he will separate himself from those who cannot respect the love they have for each other.

The moment Azriel stepped into the Forest House, a warm hand caught his wrist.

Eris studied him, amber eyes filled with concern, then realization. “They know.”

Azriel exhaled shakily. “They know.”

A heartbeat of silence. Then Eris guided him toward the sitting room, his grip firm but gentle.

As they sat on the burgundy sofa, Eris released his grip on Azriel’s wrist and took both hands in his. “You’re shaking,” Eris murmured.

Azriel hadn’t realized. He had withstood the abuse of his step-brothers, survived wars and what should have been fatal injuries—but this rejection hurt more than it all combined.

Eris didn’t push, didn’t pry. He just sat there, steady and comforting, letting Azriel come back to himself.

When Azriel loosed a shuddering breath, Eris finally asked, “Do you regret it?”

Azriel turned to him, eyes burning. “No.”

It was true. He wished his family could have accepted it. Wished they would have wrapped their arms around him and gushed with joy as he had for them, but he did not regret it.

Eris let out a slow breath, something like relief flickering across his face. Then, with the ease of someone who knew exactly what Azriel needed, he shifted closer, brushing their knees together. “Then let them be angry. They’ll learn. Or they won’t. Either way, I’m not going anywhere.”

Azriel stared at him, at this male who had once been his enemy, at the warmth in his gaze, and for the first time since he was a child—he cried.

Eris tutted and maneuvered Azriel to lay his head on his lap—mindful of his wings—and ran his long, nimble fingers through the black strands of his hair. Azriel’s scarred hands gripped the fabric of Eris’ pants until his knuckles turned white like he was afraid Eris might run away.

“Let it out,” Eris murmured, his voice soft and soothing. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Azriel’s temple, his heart breaking for the male. “It’s going to hurt for a while. Maybe longer. But one day, it won’t be so hard to breathe anymore, and that weight in your chest will start to ease. You’ll be able to go about your day without thinking of all the ‘what ifs’, or turning your head to tell them something only to find they are not there. Because I am here. I always will be. And if you need me to hold you I can do that. If you need me to shove you, I can do that, too.”

Azriel’s shoulders shook with his sobs, and Eris’ chest cracked more with every choke on his tears.

This was never what Eris wanted, though it was what he had feared. He had told Azriel it was up to him to decide whether he told the Inner Circle about them. That he would respect whatever decision he made. But Eris knew the Inner Circle clung to the debacle with Morrigan like a child with their favorite teddy bear. Taking her word as fact and never questioning it. And even though he was there too, even though Morrigan did not tell the whole truth—he kept his mouth shut because it was not his story to tell. He chooses to believe that the Mother has a hand in all of their lives, and everything plays out how it should. He would curse her name for this particular conflict if he did not fear her wrath.

The Mother had given him Azriel as his mate, and for that he was grateful, but he could not help but question her methods sometimes. Why must his mate go through this? Why had their path been so rocky and treacherous? Eris’ mother would always say the Goddess only gave the hardest battles to her strongest warriors, but why must there be so many? It could be a test, he reasoned. A test of worthiness, of loyalty, but Azriel was already those things. Perhaps the test was not for him but for the Inner Circle, and they had failed. Now, his mate was the innocent victim of their negligence.

Azriel started to calm down, sniffling quietly. Eris continued to run his fingers through his hair, breathing deeply enough that Azriel could feel it and match his breaths.

“It hurts,” Azriel croaked.

“I know it does, my love. I am so sorry. If I could take your pain, I would.”

Azriel shook his head. “I wouldn’t want you to.” He slowly raised his head from Eris’ lap, wiped his eyes, and adjusted his position on the couch to be shoulder-to-shoulder with Eris. Eris intertwined their fingers, his golden rings chilling Azriel’s heated skin. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t you dare,” Eris snapped. Azriel flinched and he immediately regretted it. Softer this time, “Don’t apologize for their actions. Don’t apologize for your emotions. Just don’t.”

Azriel remained silent gazing down at their connected hands, watching Eris’ thumb sweep back and forth over his knuckle with rapt attention.

Eris sighed. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Azriel muttered. “I don’t want your feelings to be hurt too.”

“Don’t worry about my feelings,” Eris scoffed. “Whatever they said about me today, I assure you I have heard far worse from them in the past.”

“I know,” Azriel frowned. “Rhys tried to give me a chance to explain it to them, but after Cassian berated me and Mor bringing up the past—“

“Leave it to Morrigan to make it about her.” Azriel cut a sharp glare his way. “Sorry.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter now. As far I’m concerned they are out of our lives. Cassian said it was wrong.”

Eris clenched his jaw and wrapped his free arm around Azriel’s shoulder and pulled him in, placing a tender kiss on his head. “You don’t need to explain anything to them. Their love for you should have prevailed over their hatred for me. It’s not like we were going to have family dinners any time soon,” Eris tried to joke, but it fell flat.

Azriel huffed a sad laugh. “No, we were not.” Azriel looked to Eris’ amber eyes, at the love and worry shining in them. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that he would get to wake up and fall asleep to those eyes every day. To the feel of his fiery red hair on his chest. He began to think he might just be okay in the end with Eris—his mate—by his side. He loved his family, no one could question that, but even they could not compare to the glowing string tying him and Eris rib to rib. To the constant flow of love, affection, and utter devotion that travels down the bond from Eris’ end.

He cupped the side of Eris’ jaw with his hand and brought his lips to his. It was measured and methodical, a lot like their relationship these past few years. Their tongues tangled with an intoxicating slowness, each stroke deliberate. Azriel felt his pants become uncomfortably tight, and as he moved his hand down Eris’ chest to his crotch he felt him having the same problem. He smirked into the kiss, pure male arrogance, and Eris growled as he ran his hands up the back of Azriel’s neck to his hair and tugged at the roots. Azriel moaned and swung his leg over Eris’ to sit on his lap, wings flaring behind him. His shadows encased them in a bubble of darkness, whispering to him about Eris’ fluctuating heart rate and breathing patterns.

He grabbed the collar of Eris’ shirt and yanked, buttons flying and rolling across the floor as they landed. His hands ran up and down Eris’ torso as he rocked his hips rocked back and forth. Eris’ hands found his hips and squeezed as he took Azriel’s lip between his teeth. The scent of their arousals—cedar, cinnamon, and musk—filled the sitting room. Eris started to fiddle with the buckles of Azriel’s leathers when there was a knock at the door.

Eris cursed. “Who the hell could that be?”

Azriel’s chest heaved as he lifted himself off Eris’ lap and settled back on the couch. Eris ran his hands through his disheveled hair and leaned down to peck Azriel’s lips. “I’ll tell them to fuck off and then we can continue this in the bedroom,” Eris purred.

Azriel smiled to himself as Eris walked out the double doors. He leaned his head back against the couch, throat bobbing as he swallowed. His smile grew as thought about being able to do this every day. No more sneaking around, no more extended missions for a few stolen moments with Eris. He will have him all to himself.

Eris walked back into the sitting room, his beautifully pale abs still on display. Azriel was about to comment on them when Eris spoke.

“It appears we are taking in strays now,” he drawled.

Azriel quirked a brow when Nesta Archeron walked through the doorway, a suitcase in tow. He jumped to his feet. “Nesta? he blurted.

Nesta handed her suitcase to Eris and strode straight toward Azriel, he let out an audible oof as she made impact, wrapping him in a tight hug. Azriel returned the gesture once the shock wore off, rubbing his hand up and down her back. When Nesta pulled away her face scrunched, and then she sniffed. Azriel’s cheeks flushed at the realization that she could smell them, what they had been doing before she arrived.

“Wh—What are you doing here?” Azriel stuttered.

Nesta, still smirking and grey eyes swimming with mirth, merely shrugged. “I’m moving in.”

Eris walked further into the room to where Azriel and Nesta stood, placing his hands on his hips. “And pray tell how you managed to get here.”

She rolled her eyes. “Feyre, obviously. She dropped me off at the border between Winter and Autumn, and then I walked.”

“You walked?” Azriel balked.

“It’s why it took me so long,” she nodded. “I was eavesdropping on the conversation you had in the dining room,” Azriel snorted, because of course she had, “and after you left I cornered Feyre in the hallway and demanded she winnowed me.”

Eris’ eyes narrowed. “And she just agreed? What about your mate?”

All the humor drained from Nesta’s face as she met his gaze. “I heard what you said.” Azriel’s face fell, guilt churning in his gut. “You were right. Cassian doesn’t respect me, doesn’t cherish me. And I think I knew that deep down, but hearing someone else say it too for once made me realize I wasn’t overreacting or being difficult. He does not love me.” She glanced at Eris. “Not the way you love him.”

Azriel exhaled slowly. “I’m glad you came, Nesta,” he said softly. “But what about Cassian,” he turned to meet Eris’ eyes, “what if he tries to come here?”

Eris’ expression darkened. “I will feed him to my hounds,” he said menacingly.

Azriel’s mouth gaped, and he readied to scold Eris when Nesta started laughing. She doubled over, clutching her stomach as the cackles escaped her. Tears streamed down her face, and every time she tried to stop, she’d snort and laugh some more.

Azriel couldn’t help but join in. A soft chuckle at first, then a proper laugh as he tilted his head back, a wide smile overtaking his face.

Eris’ eyes whipped back and forth between them, scowling. “I wasn’t joking,” he deadpanned.

Nesta collapsed to the floor in a fit of giggles, bracing a hand on the rug as she tried to catch her breath.

Azriel sighed as he calmed down, walked to Eris’ side, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “This is going to be fun.”

[fieldofdaisiies]

Azris Love Language

@sjmprideweek is not yet over, so I also have a little Azris moodboard for you🫶🏼

got inspired for this by a post from @ater-love💙

[lady-of-tearshed]

Tell me what you want

@sjmprideweek

Day 2: Firsts

Pairing: Azris

Summary: Azriel had too much to drink at a boring High Lord meeting. He decides it would be a great idea to drag Eris Vanserra, new High Lord of the Autumn Court, to an empty bedroom and kiss him with everything he has.

Word count: 1.7k words

Warnings: smut (mxm), oral sex, pinning against walls... I think that's it, yeah. Have fun.

Dividers made by @tsunami-of-tears ❤️

Azriel has had too much to drink, well, that's what he tells himself. But the truth is, he only drank one glass of wine tonight—not that he'll ever admit it to himself. 

He must be drunk—inordinately drunk—if kissing Eris Vanserra had seemed like a good idea a few minutes ago. 

But now, their hands are on each other. Everywhere.

Eris pushes Az backward, and they tumble into one of many empty bedrooms of Dawn Court Palace. 

And now… Azriel has absolutely no idea what he's doing. 

Sure, he had a fair number of partners before Eris, but all of them were females. He doesn't know what to do with all of Eris. There's so much he wants to do, to taste, to bite… but are there any specifics he should know about sexual encounters between males? The thought that this would be something he'd be willing to experiment with hasn't crossed his mind until today. 

Usually, Azriel knows what he's doing. He's confident and prepared. He knows what to do, and how to please. But this isn't like his usual encounters, no. 

Eris is so much more than that. 

Eris is a feeling Azriel could drown in, and become intoxicated with. Azriel is—and always has been—like a moth to the flame that Eris is. He burns for the male, and he would die in his arms without an inch of doubt for just a taste of his warmth. 

“Stop thinking so hard,” Eris complains all while sliding his hands under Azriel’s shirt. His muscles flex under his warm fingers. 

“I have no idea what we're doing.” 

“We're about to have sex, that's what we're doing,” Eris answers dryly against Azriel’s lips as if it’s the most ridiculous thing someone has ever asked him. 

Their tongues dance in a scorching hot tango, Eris bites on Azriel's lower lip pulling out the sweetest and most embarrassing noises deep down from Azriel's chest. 

Their bodies are pressed close to one another and yet never close enough. Azriel can feel Eris' hardness pressing against his through his spymaster uniform. He groans—embarrassingly— against Eris' mouth when he feels his hips roughly bucking against his erection.

His scarred hands reach down to Eris' bottom and he digs his fingers in the flesh so hard he's sure to leave marks. He keeps Eris still, Azriel will definitely not accept finishing whatever they're doing in his pants, and he's dangerously close to doing just that. 

“Already on the edge, spymaster?” 

Azriel shudders at Eris' words, he sucks in a breath when his teeth venture down Azriel's neck to nip at his pulse point. 

Hell no. 

“Don't you dare leave any marks,” He hisses, his hand wrapping around Eris' neck to look him dead in the eyes. 

Eris is smug. So attractively smug. He wants to fuck that sly grin and those snarky comments out of his mouth. Azriel spins them around so now it's Eris who's trapped between the wall and his body. His wings twitch and stretch at the reprieve of pressure against them and Azriel notices Eris looking at them with something like marvelment in his eyes. 

His thumb pulls on Eris' bottom lip to bring his attention back to his face. Eris stares back at him, his pupils wide and dark, his gaze hooded and eyelashes fluttering. Azriel suppresses a shudder at the sight of him. 

If lust could be painted, it would be the exact image of Eris standing before Azriel. 

“Az-”

“I don't know what to do with you.” 

“Anything you want. Please-”

“Eris, you don't understand,” Azriel's voice shakes, his grips loosening around Eris' throat and pinning his hips back against the wall. Eris is needy, Azriel can smell it. Everyone in this Gods damned castle can probably smell it too, but as scary as it is, Azriel couldn't care less. “I honestly don't know what I'm supposed to do right now.” 

Eris seems to get back to his senses. He stops trying to rub himself against Azriel and just stares. Azriel can almost see the questions spinning in Eris’ mind. He lets go of him completely, and both regain their breath. 

“Oh.” That is all that Eris says after long minutes of silence and panting. “I thought you had,” He shrugs, a mask of indifference making his way on his face. “I thought you wanted to.” 

“What are you doing?” Azriel blurts out as Eris starts to push away from the wall, trying to get past him. 

“Leaving?” He answers, sounding confused.

“No,” He frowns and shakes his head. Damn, he hates himself for sounding desperate. “Unless you want to leave. I… I want this. I just... I don't know how.” 

Eris cocks an eyebrow, and Azriel deflates under his almost judgmental gaze. “You want me to, what, teach you how to fuck?” 

“I know how to fuck, Eris.” 

“But not with a guy.”

Azriel closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face, clearly the most uncomfortable one in this situation. Eris sneers, making Azriel groan with frustration. “Don't make fun of me. If you don't want to, just– get out.”

“As if.”

In one swift movement, Azriel is back against the wall. Clearly, both of them will need to share the role of who's pinning who. But right now, Azriel doesn't find it in himself to complain when Eris latches onto the skin of his neck. 

“You're going to be so good to me and follow my lead, are you?” 

The feeling of uncertainty and embarrassment is long forgotten when Eris' warm breath caresses Azriel's wet skin, making his body melt into a puddle all over again. The feeling of uncertainty and embarrassment is long forgotten. All Azriel wants is to feel, to touch, and to take whatever he can take from the male pressed against him. 

“Yes,” Azriel answers, his voice pathetically trembling. Eris' hand traces the laces of his pants, Azriel almost nearly at the touch. “Please.”

“Please what?” 

The bastard. The fucking insufferable bastard. He knows what Azriel wants, doesn't he? 

Azriel bucks against Eris' hand. The pressure against his crotch increases, but it still doesn't feel like enough. He wants to feel Eris' palm directly against him, not through these stupidly thick leather pants. “You know what.” 

“No, Azriel. I don't,” He plays with the laces of his pants, and grazes his fingernails over them but doesn't pull. “What do you want?”

‘You. Your hand. I want to feel your skin on mine. I want… I want everything.’ Is what he'd like to say. 

Azriel rolls his eyes, both from the pleasure given by Eris' palm through his pants and from frustration. “I want you to stop teasing and hurry.” 

Eris makes a sound that sounds like a restrained laugh on Azriel's shoulder, then he pulls on the laces of his pants. 

Then Eris is on his knees, and Azriel doesn't have the time to process anything before his pants are yanked down and the tip of his cock meets with Eris’ tongue. 

“Holy Gods!”

Azriel's head thumps against the wall behind him, and his hand quickly finds itself wrapped in Eris' red curls. He dares to look down to steal a glance at Eris… 

He almost comes undone at the sight. 

Don't ask him how Eris got naked so fast, he doesn't know. All he knows is that his tongue is working his cock in a way that any other female he slept with couldn't. 

If Azriel wasn't sure he was into males—he was, he's just a blind idiot—now he's utterly and completely certain he is. He's never going back to sleeping with females. 

Azriel has never looked at one during sex and felt the way he feels now. He had never wanted to crawl over one of them. But looking down at Eris— cheeks hollowed to accommodate half of his cock into his pretty mouth—makes him want to grovel and worship the ground he's kneeling on. 

Azriel hisses when Eris bobs his head, the tip of his cock meeting the back of his throat. “Fuck, Eris.” He warns the heir of Autumn. 

But Eris is stubborn. He looks up at him through his thick eyelashes, the tip of his nose brushing against Azriel's pubis, and when he sees no sign of pain or refusal, he keeps going. 

Azriel can't do much but bask in the pure ecstasy Eris is making him feel. Hesitantly, he thrusts back into Eris' mouth, and when he sees that the male can take it—and moans in pleasure around his cock when he does so—he repeats the action until he feels like he's truly tipping over the edge. 

“Eris, I–” 

He yanks his face back, and Eris replaces his swollen lips by pumping Azriel's length. 

Azriel throws his head back, his eyes close, and his breathing quickens. His hand snaps to his lips and he groans when Eris' hand stops moving and squeezes. 

“Move your hand,” He says in a soothing and gentle voice Azriel has never heard him use before. “Let me hear you.” 

Azriel obeys, because he really can't (more like he doesn't want to) deny Eris anything. He removes his hand and looks back down at Eris and it is his undoing. 

With only one more twist of Eris’ fist, Azriel paints his freckled face with thick, white lines of cum. He moans through his orgasm, grunting Eris' name until his orgasm subsides. His thighs are shaking like he's just a young Illyrian jerking himself for the first time. 

With a snap of his fingers, Eris’ face is clean from every stain of drool and cum. His clothes are magically back in place, and he gently bites down on Azriel's thigh, just pressing his teeth as if he's having a taste of him. Then he's up to his feet and heading for the door, leaving Azriel panting against the wall, struggling to get back to his senses and reach for his pants. 

“Wait! I- aren't I supposed to, I don't know, reciprocate?” Azriel thinks it's the most he's ever talked with anyone in his entire life, and the first time he ever stopped a lover from leaving. 

He must be possessed by the male or something like that. Surely he has cast a spell on him. 

Eris shrugs, not even looking back. “I came, thank you for the concern. It's adorable, truly,” He snorts. “Until next time, shadowsinger.” 

Eris exits the room, lifting the silencing glamour he had cast, and doesn't turn back. 

Azriel's shoulders sag. Now he knows that he's never going back to female lovers. 

[queercontrarian]

part two of my abandoned wips featuring sapphic archeron sisters for @sjmprideweek: this is from a fic where feyre and mor are vampires which i was going to write for @sjmromanceweek 2024 (if i remember correctly, it's been a while). the whole story outline is under the cut, enjoy.

the story starts out in the early 1900s in a small town in the US. mor is supposed to enter an arranged marriage to eris vanserra, but when she is left alone for just a moment on the morning of her wedding, she runs away. she nearly makes it, but by the side of the road to the next bigger city she is found and attacked by an older vampire, amarantha. confused and not yet realizing that she is now undead, mor accepts defeat and decides to go back to her family who are still looking for her. she goes to her cousin rhysand's house intending to seek refuge there, and is greeted by her cousin, his brothers and his cousin's girlfriend, feyre. as a newborn vampire mor quickly loses control, killing her cousin and his brothers and turning feyre into a vampire like herself. feyre is devastated at first, and to convince her to accept their new life and mor's affection, mor goes out and bring her the head of her abusive former boyfriend as a first courting gift. feyre accepts. over the years these morbid gifts become their anniversary tradition. while they usually kill mostly for the blood, they give each other one fun kill a year. the first year it is mor's father, the next a vendor who had wronged feyre's father when he was still alive, and so on. they try to find eris too to terrorize him and his family, only to find out the vanserras have been attacked by the same vampire who killed mor and are all dead. the only exception is eris, who was also turned and fled to europe, and one of his younger brothers. mor and feyre leave town when rhysand's younger sister, by now the only surviving member of the family, sends a vampire hunter after them. after this incident, their new goal is finding and killing amarantha, the original vampire who seems to have vanished from the face of the earth. decades later in the 70s they are contacted by eris via his last surviving relative, his grand-nephew lucien, who lets them know that amarantha is back in america. they track her down and find her in new york, where finally they kill her together and feyre gets to present mor with amarantha's ring as a trophy. mor agrees to marry her and they stay forever young and hot and undead together.

i think i only started the prologue on that one, let me know if you want a snippet lol

[chunkypossum]

Carve Me Open

Azriel X Eris

Chapter one: 8606 words

Azriel. Shadowsinger, spy, protector. He keeps his loved ones safe, at all costs. Even when it nearly costs him his life. Even when it nearly costs him something he didn't even realize he had.

Soooo hi, hello. Your it’s your wacky neighborhood possum, here to spread some wild wonderful … whatever this is.

I went back and forth for a while on whether or not to post this only because I don’t know where it’s going yet so … if you feel like following along, we will find out together I guess(I have a direction and some vague ideas). I have a million other things to work on but this one kind of just spilled out of me so we’re going to roll with it and see where it goes 🙃. (That’s a lot of words to say idk what I’m doing but when do I ever?)

** This story is still developing so please check tags with each new chapter. We will have a happy ending though so don't worry, or maybe do, a little.

***Happy @sjmprideweek ! Today is Love Language Day, can you tell what Azriel's love language is?

Read on Ao3

Holla at ya boi if you want on or off the Azris tag train : @talibunny30 @iftheshoef1tz @born-to-riot  @fieldofdaisiies @aktrain @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @secret-third-thing @acourtofladydeath @pippsmcgee @youvereachedthenearest-lovergirl @baileybird71 @skyesayshi @areyoudreaminof @unanswered-stars @futurehunt @ninthcircleofprythian @matrixsss @going-through-shit @c-starstuff-man0 @jules-writes-stories @the-darkestminds @krowiathemythologynerd @cauldronblssd @hieragalbatorixdottir @yourlazykitkat @hellolordling @climbthemountain2020  @lilah-asteria  @shadowsandlint @acourtofbatboydreams @theeternalstruggle @christeareads @molcat07 @mistandmemories @neciebee @dusk-muse @chairofchaos @amalhe-kofee @brunetterebel010 @astro-h0e-4azris @g00seg1rl 

[buffy-vanserra]

The Wolf in the Lions' Den

Rating: E | 4.7k words | Eris Vanserra x Jurian

At Lucien's mating ceremony, Eris finds company with someone unexpected. (It's Jurian.)

For @sjmprideweek day 2: firsts

Snippet below the cut; read on ao3 here!

"Not interested in having any fun?" Eris asked.

A lupine grin spread across Jurian’s face. “Vanserra,” he rasped, “I’m not sure if you’d like my interpretation of fun.”

"You don't think so? Don't tell me us Fae are beneath you these days. Although—" he paused, making a show of looking Jurian up and down, "that could be arranged."

Jurian barked a laugh. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Eris released a lick of his power, letting embers dance within his amber eyes. This was the man who had loved the firebird—a human with a taste for flame. “Shall we find out?”

Dividers are from @tsunami-of-tears

Thank you to @pippsmcgee and @iftheshoef1tz for the last-minute beta reads!

Tag list (please let me know if you want on/off/azris-only): @lovely-vanserra-sunshine @the-darkestminds @secret-third-thing @chunkypossum @molcat07

[irithiadourden]

I'm too impatient so...here, a sneak peek of the one shot I'm writing for the sixth prompt of the sjmprideweek: love language. I'm a little rusty so please don't kill me hahaha

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

"You spend more time here than at your house, it's the least I could do."

Then again, Azriel might as well have kept wearing that change of clothes he kept in a drawer. But Eris had cared enough to give him practically a whole damn closet in his own room. Azriel's side of that dresser was full of the typical clothes he used to wear: dark tunics and pants, Illyrian leather pieces and even…

A dark blue coat in the style of Autumn's court, but with a carefully crafted design so that he could wear it despite his wings. No, not despite, the entire garment was specially made for a fae with huge wings, just like his.

The shadowsinger was speechless, staring at the clothing as if it could disappear if he took his attention away for just a second. The next thing Eris felt was the jolt of lips pulling him far away from sanity. It was a kiss loaded with so many words he would have needed hours to classify them —love, gratitude, shock— only he didn't need to, he knew it, deep in his chest where his heart was beating wildly. Azriel embraced him without holding back a bit of his strength, perhaps even stealing his breath a little, or that is the reason the High Lord chose as an excuse for not being able to breathe, so intertwined that it was impossible to discern where one began and the other ended.

[g00seg1rl]

Change in Menu

Pairing: Azriel x Eris Vanserra

Summary: Eris had Rhysand go through lots of trouble to deliver Autumn Court freshly baked goods to the House of Wind to prepare for his visit. Too bad Rhysie had to go through all that work when Azriel’s ass ended up being so much more delectable.

A/N: Hello loves, this is a smutty drabble of Eris eating ass for the first time, and Azriel having his ass ate for the first time for @sjmprideweek Day Two: Firsts

All 1.2k slutty words are below the cut, I hope you enjoy 😘🫶

Forgotten flaky cheese pastries and deep mugs of oolong tea decorated the shellacked slate table in the center of the vast dining room. Azriel’s shadows delicately moved the meal to the side, complicit in Eris’s change of the breakfast menu.

Eris always appreciated those freaky fucks.

As Eris’s knees hit the ground with a soft thud, he pulled Azriel’s leather pants over the swell of his toned ass. He bit the fat of his left cheek, savoring the yelp the Shadowsinger couldn’t hold back.

He also just liked Azriel’s ass–always bouncing slightly as he walked, the small jiggling rebound after receiving an admonishing slap or appreciative spank and the glorious applaud he always got when Eris fucked him from behind. Just a wet clap, clap, clap that put a smile on his face and made his balls tighten with lust.

He let his cold rings bite into Azriel’s spread, fleshy cheeks, smirking at the pretty shiver he pulled from Azriel’s toned, arched body. He blew gently against Azriel’s fluttering hole, chuckling at the muffled whimper Azriel tried covering with his elbow.

“Oh don’t hide away, darling. Why allow me the honor of having such an intimate part of you if I can’t hear you scream when I take it?” Eris asked with an amused and rhetorical tone.

“I wouldn’t have said yes if I knew ass eating involved so much talking.”

“Liar.” Eris knew oh so entertainingly well that Azriel was enjoying his... oh what’s a demure way to put it? Verbal appetite… by the way his cock twitched when Eris called him darling and, more predictably, when Eris mentioned Azriel’s penchant for screaming. Or perhaps Azriel was aroused that Eris was making his intentions clearer than he typically did.

Azriel, the glorious brat that he was, shoved his ass back against Eris’s hands, bonking his hole sloppily against Eris’s nose.

Eris huffed and nipped the taut, sensitive skin between Azriel’s right thigh and cheek, licking the pain away softly before trailing his hot tongue towards Azriel’s clenching hole.

Eris had eaten out females before, many times for many hours– till the pretty, petite fae were writhing, shrieking and sopping as Eris had his unrelenting time boinking his tongue deep into their squelching cunts.

But he’d never tasted a male’s hole before, let alone someone as discreet and private as the Shadowsinger–now only an inch from Eris’s starved tongue. His mouth watered, and he let the spit pool on the edge of his tongue as he slowly, softly, deliberately pressed the tip of his wanton tongue to circle Azriel’s ever-so-unfurling hole.

Thankfully, Azriel had nothing to compare it to, having never let anyone’s mouth this close to his hole.

He didn’t dip into where he wanted to be- not yet. He repeated the roundabout path, adding more pressure each time, eliciting deeper moans from Azriel at each pass, each time he thought Eris was about to delve in.

They both moaned as Az relaxed enough to allow Eris to slip past the ring of muscle, vastly different to what he’d experienced on his tongue thus far. He may be centuries old but there had never been a partner that he’d ever been close enough with to, well… He curved his tongue slightly and drew a low whine from Azriel.

“Ooh-ahh!” Azriel’s sweet moan broke into a throaty groan as Eris’s tongue pushed its way in further, ignoring the moist clenching resistance from Azriel’s ass that was attempting to slow down his expedition.

Eris hummed and distracted Azriel with a tight hand on his hard dick, squeezing his wet fist around Azriel’s cock that was noticeably, amusingly, twitching whenever Eris passed over a certain areaaa… there; Azriel’s cock pulsed in his hand and Eris marked that spot in his head.

And then he bullied it, harshly, cruelly, lovingly.

Azriel’s thick thighs twitched around him, sharpening the edges of his lips that were still kissing Azriel’s hole. He pulled his tongue back to Azriel’s contracting rim to briefly collect his thoughts.

Firstly, it was far easier than eating pussy. Not as many folds or possibility of missing marks. And Azriel was so very responsive– his hips tilted in various directions, trying to control where the tip of Eris’s tongue would target.

There’d be none of that.

Eris released his grip on Azriel’s cheek and cock to hold his hips down, flush against the hard tabletop, trapping Azriel’s cock between his body and the cool surface. A needy yowl rushed out of Az.

“Ah fuck, Eris what? C’mon you were the one who wanted to do this,” Az whined.

“Oh do you not want to be doing this Azriel?” Eris pulled back to coo rhetorically.

“I do! Jus’ wanna come too,” Azriel explained between whimpers as Eris bobbed his head back and forth, pumping his tongue as deep as it could go before pulling back to swish his tongue over Azriel’s entrance filthily, creating a mess he wouldn’t allow Azriel to clean up.

He pooled some more saliva and pushed as many limits as he could, pushing down on Azriel’s lower back, placing pressure on his shaft as he swirled his tongue down to that spot he’d noted, slurping his curved tongue across the velvety anterior wall of Azriel’s begging hole.

“Wanna come, baby? Then go, not stopping you, am I?” Eris taunted, knowing his full body weight crushing his dick would cause some… orgasmic technical difficulties.

“Oh come on Eris, please just jerk me off- I- I think I hear someone.”

Oh, he did.

Cassian and Nesta should be returning from their private training session just about now. Now being three weeks after they found Nesta sat on this very table with her thighs spread out over Cassian’s plate. Eris had been taking his meals in Azriel’s room whenever he was simply too tired to winnow back to Autumn, or on the honest days, when he wanted to hold Azriel in his arms or tuck himself with a novel between his spanning wings.

Azriel, like the torture-device that he is- clamped down on his tongue painfully as the door to the upstairs arena clicked open.

Eris lifted his hands and allowed Azriel to jerk into his fist as he targeted his now bullied sweet spot with his tongue. Azriel came screaming Eris’s name as the startled and sweaty Nesta and Cassian strolled into the heady atmosphere of the room.

“I told you I heard something, Cassian,” Nesta said, exasperated. A hit and an abrupt expulsion of Cass’s breath painted an amusing picture of him getting punched.

Although he was painfully hard, Eris glamoured his length to his typical level of bulge and stood at his own, unhurried pace. He pulled Azriel’s trousers back over his perked ass, neglecting to clean up any of the mess before slapping his now leather-clad booty with a sharp hand.

“Should’ve listened to her, Cass,” Eris said with a grin. Moving to grab one of the chairs and place it behind Azriel who sat gratefully with a plonk, his eyes fluttered shut once he found stability. He rested his scarred palms flat on the table as if he was still dizzy from coming.

Thank you so much @the-darkestminds for beta reading, you are the best ily mami🫂💗

Taggin some sexy Azris babes: @nus4y @jules-writes-stories @astro-h0e-4azris @mistandmemories @mudandmire @chunkypossum @fourteentrout @molcat07 @ninthcircleofprythian @3xolara @irithiadourden @iftheshoef1tz @pippsmcgee @neciebee please lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future smutty drabbles/fics

[icey--stars]

Ew, Love

A very traumatized Eris, in a new relationship with Azriel, post-Beron's brutal death. 1.2k words

A/N: I had a little time to write this little Azris thing for SJM Pride Week! It isn't much, but I had fun. (why do I have SO MANY college papers and then no time for azris???)

For Day 6 of @sjmprideweek (Love Language)

TW: Self-depreciation, past domestic abuse/trauma

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

Eris was stressed. That fact was pretty obvious to probably half his court at this point. He wasn’t his usual put-together self since becoming High Lord only a few weeks ago. He’d been trying to get things settled in the ways he wanted them and making dramatic changes.

But he’d also been trying to figure out his shit with Azriel. They’d gone public with the relationship since one, Eris wanted to show he wasn’t entirely a depraved freak incapable of love, but also to show his court that Beron’s bullshit would not stand any longer. It was overwhelming, though. Before publicity, Eris had simply been happy with sitting in the same room as Azriel. He wanted to do more and he knew Azriel wanted more. At the very fucking least Azriel deserved physical affection.

But here Eris was, curled up in the corner with his knees to his chest, exhausted and completely unsure of how to proceed. Azriel was due to come over anytime now. And Eris, of course, was terrified. Beron had drilled two things into him: a relationship between two males is wrong and to never show weakness which to Beron, translated to any sort of fondness. Eris had been punished plenty enough to know what not to do.

Eris knew what relationships generally looked like from his observations. He knew that there was generally physical intimacy even if not sexual. Hugging. Kissing. Holding hands. All things that Eris had been punished severely for seeking— even from his own mother. He also knew that there were generally other ways to show one’s love. Gift-giving, doing errands and chores for them, even goddamn poetry. And Eris did not have a damned clue on what to do.

He was basically pulling out his hair at this point, half-tempted to literally find philosophy books on love and affection.

This was, of course, the moment that Azriel walked in with more jump in his step than usual and a soft smile on his face. Eris froze, slowly lowering his hands as he looked up at Azriel.

Azriel’s face turned from its somewhat joyful expression to one of worry within milliseconds. Eris grimaced and sighed, standing up slowly with an ashamed look on his face. “Look, I know I look pathe-”

Azriel cut him off before he could finish, “What’s wrong, Eris?”

Eris’s words died in his throat.

Azriel tilted his head, stepping an inch closer hesitantly after Eris’s beats of silence. “Eris,” he repeated softer. “You’re upset.”

“I’m fine,” Eris ground out.

“You’re not,” Azriel insisted. “Don’t try to lie when you aren’t even closing off the bond right now.”

Eris huffed in annoyance. That little string in his chest. Nothing compared to what it could be, according to Azriel and his plentitude of family members in mating bonds. But it was enough to betray him.

“It doesn’t seem like it's the Autumn Court considering you usually spend that stress at your desk. Not in the corner,” Azriel deducted. “So, what is it, Eris?”

Eris couldn’t manage a lie this time. He also didn’t know how to put it into words though. Especially not words that wouldn’t practically shame him the entire time. Or cause Azriel to give him that sickeningly pitying look.

“Just tell me,” Azriel urged gently. “I won’t interrupt if you need to explain or struggle to describe it. I just want to understand why my mate is so stressed that he’s in the corner when I’m used to him flaunting himself around proudly.”

Eris sighed, lowering his head. “You know- you know Beron. By now you know what he’s done to me and maybe some of the stigma that makes this entire mate bond incredibly hard,” he began, feeling himself struggle through the words like he was rambling. His silver tongue seemed to have abandoned him in his time of need. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I know how to flirt with the females for a good night in bed but to hell with all other experience in relationships. Even family ones, honestly. Lucien is probably the only one to have any sort of general idea of the shit,” he finished lamely.

Azriel hummed, tilting his head slightly. Eris’s anxiety spiked for some goddamn reason, watching as Azriel resituated his wings behind him slightly before replying.

“So you’re worried about…” Azriel trailed off, grimacing slightly as if he was also struggling. “‘Showing love’ is the best descriptor I’ve got,” he said, chuckling. “Which you must know, is just as hard for me to say as it is for you to think about.”

Eris sighed and nodded with his head lowered.

“Eris, I’m not worried about that,” Azriel murmured, grabbing a hold of his hands firmly to drag Eris closer and draw Eris’s gaze to his own. “I’m the famed shadowsinger of the Night Court. Practically dead inside and vicious all the time. Even that isn’t all fake. Sure, I probably have more practice than you since I’ve been living with a semi-healthy family for around 500 years, but I understand, Eris. And you should know by now that there is no pressure. Especially not while you’re getting the court together still.”

Eris grimaced. “I know,” he insisted quietly. “But I should-”

“No, you don’t have to do anything,” Azriel cut him off firmly. “If you want to have that, however, that is different.”

Eris narrowed his gaze, brows furrowing in thought. He’d never thought of it that way. “I suck at it, but I…”

“You want to have that with me?” Azriel finished for him with a grin. “What sorts of things?”

“I will burn you alive if you make me repeat any of that mushy bullshit to you,” Eris retorted without any real bite.

Azriel scoffed, chuckling softly. “I expected that from you,” he teased. “Even if you do end up being shit at it, Eris, I won’t blame you for it with Beron as your father. At least I had genuine brothers. You were fucked from the beginning.”

“Thanks for summing that up,” Eris said sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he rubbed a hand down his face in frustration.

“Do you see what I’m getting at though? I understand, Eris. I understand why you’re worried. But there is no pressure and you don’t have to say anything. Just try it,” Azriel urged. “And take a break from your paperwork before you actually go insane.”

Eris rolled his eyes, but sighed. Azriel was right. He might be shit, but he doubted the shadowsinger was that much better. Plus, the male could put him on his ass if he really didn’t like something. Or shut him up if he did something wrong.

“Trust me to show you,” Azriel murmured, daring a step closer so that those cold tendrils of shadows trailed across Eris’s pale skin. “Do you trust me, Eris?”

Eris took a deep breath and nodded. “I do,” he agreed in the quietest of whispers. He stepped closer and dared putting his arms around Azriel under his arms, careful to avoid the wings.

Azriel grinned and also wrapped his arms around Eris, putting one hand on the back of Eris’s head to pull him further into the embrace. Eris couldn’t help himself from burying his face into the junction between Azriel’s neck and shoulders and just breathing. It was stupidly calming.

“You’re doing fine, Eris,” Azriel murmured. “And it’s not just you who has to show affection or whatever ghastly word you can come up with,” he reminded his mate. “There’s two of us.”

“I’m shit at whatever this love is,” Eris muttered, slightly muffled against Azriel’s leathers. “But I do want more of it, strangely.” Azriel just squeezed him harder.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

Tagged in all ACOTAR Stories: @bunnymallowo, @officiallyunofficialperson, @margssstuff, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @graciereads, @eos-princess, @bubybubsters, @fieldofdaisiies, @skyesayshi, @lilah-asteria,

Tagged in all Azriel Stories: @ladylokilaufeyson5, @marina468,

[froggybogwitch]

Here's a doodle for the day that I missed. I'm not even sure which prompt it was but im gonna use it to rep one of my very many sjm rarepairs. Connall and Lorcan? They were fucking pre-canon. They have so much in common. both overlooked, both truly devoted to maeve, absolute clown levels of emotional constipation, terrible tangle of feelings about Fenrys' role in their lives. They were fucking nasty. MESSY situationship vibes. A shituationship, if you will.

When lorcan betrayed aelin, he was protecting a whole lot more, and he lost a whole lot more, in the end.

@sjmprideweek

[fourteentrout]

SJM Pride Week Day 4: Gender

Title: carry that weight

Pairing: Nesta Archeron/Tamlin

Rating: E (NOT for everyone ;) )

Word Count: 11,310

Summary: “I often feel too big for my body,” he whispered against her neck, so quiet that she wouldn’t have understood him if she were still human. “For this world. There's…there's too much of me.”

The stillness of the world around them kept Nesta's breath trapped in her chest. I know what you mean, she didn’t say.

“Then turn into something smaller.” Nesta replied instead, her voice not quite as dry as she usually kept it.

@sjmprideweek I hope this counts even though it's technically a straight ship at the start. i thought some genderfluidity could be fun to introduce to nesta's character, especially since a shapeshifter is such a perfect vehicle to communicate that identity through!

Snippet below the cut! Or read here on AO3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

The sex had come as a surprise.

Nesta had arrived in the Spring Court with only what she could carry and the clothes on her back. No tears shed. Azriel had set her down in a pretty little meadow, its verdant innocence teasing the bleak reality of her situation. Her boots, the leather still shiny, sank into the soft dirt, and for the first time since leaving the Night Court, she felt like she could breathe.

It was awful. 

The fresh Spring air sawed in and out of her lungs, too much all at once, so much that it was practically choking her. Her face heated in a way that she used to be able to stop, back before…back when she was human. She couldn’t grasp the reins of her body, even after over a year of having it. She’d been drowned, burned, broken and reformed, and spat back out with something inside her that she did not want, and could not control.

Azriel put a warm hand on her back as she gathered herself, blinking away the haze of panic and taking in her surroundings.

“I’m sorry it turned out this way.” He said softly, his melodic voice making the shock of truth a fraction less bitter.

“Me too.” Nesta replied. Out of everyone, he was the only one who’d had the courtesy to give another option. It wasn’t ideal—none of them were—but this was at least a flavor of exile that was seasoned with compassion.

As much as Feyre claimed forgiveness, Nesta knew the anger that still strangled her soul.

Azriel had been the one to take the eldest Archeron aside when she’d condemned herself to what would surely be death, or imprisonment, or endless wandering without a destination in sight. If Nesta thought about it too hard, it reminded her of someone she’d tried to drink away the memory of time and time again. No direction, no will. 

“I’ll be the one to take you,” the Shadowsinger had told her quietly in the empty washroom of her empty flat. “I’ll get you somewhere…safer.”

Not safe. But safer. Even the lush, quiet meadow thrummed with that feeling. This Court was not safe, but the land would accept her in a way that the human realm no longer could. And that, apparently, was all Nesta could ask for.

It was better than she deserved. Azriel had saved her from what she’d been ready for. 

Now, she was more scared than ever.

[nocasdatsgay]

Just a Word

Pairing: Mor/Female!OC, Gen | Rating M | Word Count: 1828 | Read on A03

For @sjmprideweek Day 3: Realizations

Summary: Mor didn’t have a word for it, until she did.

Content warnings: homophobia, sexism, Mor’s engagement, mentions of sex and sexual situations.

A/N: I spent a while trying to come up with in universe names or reasons for names of sexual preferences but then realized if SJM doesn’t care to explain herself then neither can I.

Tagging: @buffy-vanserra @hieragalbatorixdottir @mybestfriendmademe @ysmtttty @thisblogisaboutabook @ninthcircleofprythian @acourtofladydeath @daycourtofficial @secret-third-thing Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Mor didn’t have a word for it when she was a youngling. All she knew was the daughter of her father’s friend was the prettiest girl in the world. Her hair was dark, like her cousin’s. Long and braided with loose strands that shaped her face. Her skin was like Mor’s- pale and almost glowed under the fae lights. Her eyes were like bright clear crystals. They would play together while their mothers watched and their fathers discussed business. One day Mor worked up the courage to whisper to her while playing.

“You’re very pretty.” Mor blushed at her own admission and her friend laughed in a way that made her heart happy.

“You are too,” she said back.

Mor didn’t have a word for it when she came of age. She learned a long time ago- not shortly after her confession to her friend, that she was nothing more than a pawn in her father’s games. Females were not meant to be seen or heard. And when she couldn’t hide her first bleed, she was sold to a high lord’s son. A high lord she heard was as cruel as her father.

Mor didn’t have a word for it when she went to the Illyrian camps. She heard her cousin Rhys talk about his friends. She’d met them on occasion. The one with shadows liked her- she knew because he stared at her the way males in Hewn City did. He was not cruel but he was also not right for what she had planned. She chose the loud one- the proud one, who had a good sense of humor. Cassian was fun. He would make this fun, is what she told herself.

She knew it would hurt, being bedded by a male. Her friend who was married off before her told her so. Mor had hoped choosing someone she liked, someone who was kind, would make it better. Cassian was kind but he was young. It hurt until it didn’t. It gave her pleasure but it left her empty. And when she left his tent, she knew Azriel was watching her with hurt eyes. She wanted to scream at him that she was hurt too. This was not what she wanted. This was not something she thought she would ever want again.

She didn’t have a name for it but she knew then didn’t like sleeping with males.

Mor didn’t have a name for it when she went to Velaris, saved by Az from the broader of Autumn. It took her months to come out of her room. Weeks to muster a conversation. Rhys’s mother was kind to her and cared for her more than her own ever had. Mor told her when they were alone that she didn’t think she liked males.

“Some don’t,” Rhys’ mother replied with kind eyes and a cup of fresh tea. “No one here will ever judge you for it.”

Mor didn’t think her aunt understood what she meant. She decided not to tell anyone else.

She didn’t have a name for it when she kissed her first female. It was war, she told herself. A distraction. Night Court did not discriminate against who went to battle and after a long day only her and another returned alive. She was exhausted, her powers nearly used up. She couldn’t even remember her companions name. They shared a tent, helped each other out of their bloody and muddy clothes. The female brought in water and warmed it. Mor didn’t hide her whimper when her companion took a washcloth and gently wiped her face.

“I know,” the female told Mor. “I know.”

She didn’t know how it happened. She just knew the beautiful female was wiping away tears and the next, her lips were pressed to her own. No words were exchanged. Nothing further happened outside the soft kiss. But it made Mor’s heart sing in a way she didn’t know possible. It was so much better than the messy kisses of males she’d had. She wanted to reach out and hold her companion there for eternity.

Instead she pulled away, as if nothing happened. Mor never saw that female again after that night.

During her hundredth birthday, was when she finally had a name for it. She celebrated at a new bar in Valeris, Rita’s. Rhys opened a tab and Mor didn’t hesitate to order the best wine. After the war, the loss of her cousin and aunt, she took every reprieve she could get. She drank and danced. First with Cassian, then with Azriel (despite knowing it was a terrible idea) and then with males she had seen but didn’t fully know. That was her process on nights like this.

She didn’t notice that none of the males seemed interested in her beyond the fun they were having to the music. She also didn’t notice a female watching her from the stool at the bar.

“You look like you could drink some water.” Mor turned to see a female- a beautiful one at that, grinning at her.

Despite herself Mor raked her eyes over her. The female had bronze skin and two curled horns on her head. Her dress caught Mor’s eye also. Short and sleeveless, black that sparkled in the fae lights. Her eyes went back to the female's face. Heart shaped, framed by her shoulder length green hair. And her eyes- dark enough for Mor to get lost in if she wasn’t careful.

“I could,” Mor replied. She turned to the owner, Rita and requested water.

Instead of returning with her glass Mor took a risk and sat down at the bar stool next to this mysterious female.

“I’m Morrigan,” she extended her hand.

The female chuckled. “Nice to meet you Morrigan. I’m Stella.”

As Stella took her hand, Mor blurted out “that’s such a pretty name.”

“Thank you. Morrigan is too.”

“Mor,” she didn’t want to pull her hand away but did. “Call me Mor.”

Stella smirked at her. “Would you like to dance? After you finish your drink?”

Mor wasn’t heavily intoxicated but her tongue felt like lead. All she could do was nod and sip more of her water. Stella laughed again and Mor didn’t take her eyes off of her. She downed the water quickly and stood grabbing Stella’s hand to lead her onto the floor.

And they danced. Mor didn’t even care who saw her. Stella had pulled her close, following the beat of the music. She didn’t notice that Stella had led them to a darker corner of the pleasure house until her back hit the wall. Mor let out a gasp; Stella slotted a leg between her thighs, which pushed in her dress and moved the long slit of it.

She didn’t hesitate to throw her arms around the female and pull her in. Their lips met; Stella’s pillow soft. Mor moaned and parted her mouth, letting Stellas tongue slip in. She tasted like the sweet wine Mor had been drinking earlier on Rhys’s tab. Stella’s hand went to her thigh where the slit opened. She pulled back and looked Mor in the eyes.

“Can I?” Stella whispered, hot breath against her lips.

Her touch was electric, so much that all Mor could think about was that hand on her bare thigh. Her mind processed the question and she nodded. Her eyes fluttered while Stella dragged her hand slowly, leaving a trail of tingling skin until the fingertips reached the edge of her underthings. Mor held her breath, waiting. Dark eyes stared her down as those fingers pressed against the silk covering her.

Mor’s whole body trembled at the touch, fingers much smaller than she was used to pressing gently against the wet spot growing. The female grinned and rubbed her finger along her covered slit. Mor gasped, legs shaking. She’d never been this turned on in her life. Stella’s other hand palmed at Mor’s chest, making the fabric rub against her taut nipple. If Mor died in that moment, she would have died happy.

“Let me take you home,” Stella whispered and pressed a soft kiss to Mor’s lips.

“Okay.” She nodded.

Mor didn’t tell the boys she was leaving. She followed Stella out the door. That night she bedded her first female. Stella showed her what it was like- to be touched, to be pleasured by another female. Females could use their tongue and fingers just like males. And when Mor put her face in Stella’s cunt- she tasted better than any male Mor had ever taken with her mouth. They stayed up until dawn, making love in every possible position- ones Mor never even thought of.

Even after getting a few hours sleep, Mor couldn’t bring herself to feel guilt. But she wasn’t without her worries. She took the tea and breakfast pastry Stella offered once they both awoke from their brief nap. Mor must have shown it. Stella tucked Mor’s blonde locks behind one ear.

“What happened stays here,” she said softly, looking at Mor with kind eyes. “Though I expect the High Lord and male companions are unaware Rita’s is a… safe place for fae like us.”

“Oh,” Mor thought for a moment, realization settling over her. “Oh, that’s why- no wonder the males didn’t grind on me while dancing.” Mor laughed loudly.

Stella chuckled too. “You can tell them it’s a gay bar. Or not. I think it’s funny if the High Lord doesn’t know.”

“Gay?” Mor asked, mildly embarrassed she didn’t recognize the term.

“When males like males and females like females. Gay.”

“What if you like both?” Mor eyed Stella wondering if she would be offended. Stella didn’t seem phased.

“Still gay. There are,” she thought for a moment, “specific terms. Around here we call females who like females Sirens.”

“Siren is-“ Mor frowned. She had heard talk of Sirens. Sinful women were what she remembered that term as. “That’s a negative thing.”

Stella shrugged. “I don’t see it that way. But there’s also lesbian. If you like both, well, bi is commonly used.”

“Bi.” Mor repeated the word. It felt foreign on her tongue. “And lesbian.”

That one also felt foreign. Both felt better than Siren. She glanced at the clock and sighed. She needed to get home, to ensure the boys she wasn’t murdered after their night out. Mor finished her tea and grabbed her things. Stella watched her from the table. Mor stopped before going further. She was nervous. More so than she ever was with males.

“Will you be there again?” Mor asked. “At Rita’s.”

Stella gave her a soft smile that made her stomach flip. “Most weekends, yes.”

“So I’ll see you again?” She batted her eyes like she did when she flirted with males.

Stella grinned. “I hope so. See you around Mor.”

Mor’s cheeks warmed. “See you around.”

She left Stella’s home giddy and hopeful that wherever was happening between them could turn into something more.

[fieldofdaisiies]

This is just a first draft of a story, but I still wanted to post it for @sjmprideweek Day 3 as it's my first time writing for Gwyn and Elain. In the future I want to turn this little drabble into an actual story, maybe with more parts, but for now it's like this. I hope you enjoy it!

A joyful smile lights up Gwyn's face as she steps into the open expanse of the library's third floor. The air is still filled with a floral, sweet scent, and she takes a deep breath as she walks towards the first shelf.

There‘s a book, a book with a sky blue binding that is slightly askew. As she approaches it, her heart begins to race, filling her with a sense of giddy excitement.

She knows exactly what it means. And as she pulls the book out, she feels her heart hammer in her throat. A book mark is set in the exact middle of the pages, and she quickly flips it open, finding a small piece of paper in it which she takes out.

Gwyn places the book back on the shelf, her fingers lingering on the spine for a moment longer as she bites down on her lower lip to hold back from grinning like dork. Then she quickly glances around to ensure no one is watching and heads to a rather private corner of the library to look into the folded piece of paper.

It smells like jasmine and honey — absolutely wonderful as she holds it close to her face, fingers trembling slightly as she opens it.

Dear Gwyn, I hope you had a wonderful day today, filled with nothing but joy and love. I also hope that training was good, and the males weren’t too hard on you.

I want to see you again. Meet me on the rooftop at 11!

Kisses, E

If she could, Gwyn would squeal in delight. But she can't because she's in the Library, and no one knows about her relationship with a certain Archeron sister. Initially, it was just a bit of experimenting, a bit of fun they both enjoyed—stolen glances, hushed conversations, quick kisses when passing each other. But now, things have changed, Gwyn has realised.

She likes Elain. She likes her a lot and would even go as far as to say she loves her. A lot. She is in love with Elain Archeron, and there's no denying it. She knows her feelings can't be wrong, and she believes Elain may feel the same.

Gwyn sits down on the floor in the quiet corner, trying to calm her racing heart. And mind.

She will tell Elain today that she loves her. It will happen today. It cannot wait any longer.

>>>>>>>>>>

"Hi," Gwyn breathes, smoothing out her robes as she sits down beside Elain. The female grins up at her, a delicate blush appearing on her cheeks when Gwyn's lips close over hers.

"One more," Elain whispers against Gwyn’s smile. "One more kiss."

Gwyn would never say no to such a request, and only when they are both breathless do they settle against the cool fence surrounding the training pitch. They easily fall into a familiar position, with Gwyn's head resting in Elain's lap, the Archeron sister's fingers gently stroking through her copper hair that reflects the moonlight.

"How was train—"

"How was garde—"

Both females giggle, their eyes twinkling with bliss and amusement.

"You first," Elain hums.

"You first."

Elain shakes her head. "You."

"I'm older, so you need to listen to me when I say you first."

Elain laughs and tips her head back.

She is the most beautiful female in all of Prythian, Gwyn thinks and knows she’s right. Stunning and breathtaking.

And after this evening, this stunning female may be fully and completely hers… She can barely believe it and—

"I wanted to ask how training was?" Elain smiles down at her, her fingers once again softly tracing the outline of Gwyn's face.

Gwyn leans into her touch. "It was good. We did a lot of balancing exercises for grounding and being able to hold a stance."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"I did," Gwyn says. "It was tough, but it feels very good afterward." She blows out a deep breath, and is about to ask her question from earlier again when Elain beats her to it.

"I like you, Gwyn. I like you a lot. I would even go as far as to say I am in love with you. You may not feel the same, but I finally had to get it out. Over the past weeks I have realised how much joy it brings me to be with you, how much I love being in your presence, how good it feels. It feels warm and homely, like the whole world around us stops and—"

"And I’m in love with you too." A radiant smile spreads across Gwyn’s face as she sits up quickly, wrapping her arms around Elain’s waist to pull her closer. "So incredibly much. I love you, your smile, and the gentle way you touch me. And especially much comfort your presence brings me, how safe I feel." Gwyn drags in a deep breath. "Not done yet. I love how much comfort you bring my heart. Even though it beats faster whenever I‘m near you, it simultaneously feels fully at ease. Like nothing can happen to me because I have you. And you will protect me."

"I will protect you. I might not have the muscles that Cassian or Azriel have, but I will protect you. I promise. Against all the evil in this world."

Gwyn leans into, softly brushing her lips against Elain‘s. "And I will protect you."

She can feel Elain smile into the kiss, as their heartbeats align, beating in the same exact rhythm. Eventually also their hands find their way to one another, their fingers slowly interlacing.

"I want to tell the others if that‘s what you want." Gwyn leans back slightly, her thumb stroking across Elain’s rosy cheek. She marvels at the softness of her skin, the beauty of the Archeron sister‘s brown eyes.

"I want that too," Elain beams.

Gwyn mirrors her expression. "Good because I want the whole world to know your mine."

[sjmprideweek]

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☆ You do not have to be queer yourself to participate in this event. We do not want to out people, so identities are not required to be mentioned. 

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☆ SJM Pride Week supports all ships so long as they are queer focused/feature queer characters. This week is not exclusive to same-sex pairings. Rowaelin or Nessian x Reader, Non-binary OC, Lucriel realising they have feelings for each other, Asexual Reader, a shifter character transforming into a different gender (*cough* Lysaedion *cough*), what really happens in the birchin… Go for your life, make the barbies kiss!

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