#i love rhys in a deep v | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yourejinx · 4 months

Text

Late Nights

Azriel x F.Reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, +18, minors dni. Oral, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v. A bit of fluff? I think that's it.

Author's note: I wanted to try something different, this is my first time writing content like this so please be gentle but also PLEASE FEEDBACK.

Word count: 4k

It was the fourth night in a row that you were deprived from sleep, cursed with listening Cass and Nesta fuck like rabbits in the room next to yours. In all honesty, you loved your friends and were absolutely thrilled they were enjoying and exploring the extent of their relationship, they deserved it after everything they went through. You just wished they had a little consideration for your poor ears and sleeping schedule.

You had been working your ass off the past few weeks, Rhys had you and Az going around the courts every other day, plus you've been dealing with Eris, since you seemed to be the only member in the Inner Circle that the Autumn heir tolerated just fine. So you had your plate full, and wished for a little peace and quiet at your own home. But your friends had other plans.

Nesta let out a particularly loud moan that you clearly heard through the too thin wall. It made you grimace and you decided you had enough. Huffing, you tossed the sheets off your body, grabbed the shirt you had stolen from the shadowsinger years ago and opened the door, putting on the clothing while you made your way down the corridor. If you were awake, then Azriel had to be too, he didn't miss a thing happening in this house.

You didn't bother knocking on his door, you were way past that line with him. Azriel was your best friend, your confident, the person who you most trusted in the entire world, and vice versa. You were too comfortable with each other to bother with politeness. You flung open the door to his bedroom, making your way inside and slamming the door behind you dramatically. The room was dark except for the dim fae light hanging on his bedside table, Azriel had put down the book he was reading to stare at you amusedly.

"Good evening to you too." He uttered playfully.

You didn't reply, just scowled, walked up to the other side and plopped down face first on the bed beside him. He chuckled.

"Finding it hard to sleep?" He asked, setting the book aside.

"They are insufferable." You mumbled around the sheets. They smelled like him, an instant comfort for your tired mind. "Agh! You can hear them from here too! How are you not bothered?!?" You lift your head from his pillows to look at him exasperatedly.

Azriel smiled somewhat apprehensive at you. "I'm kind of used to it by now." He shrugged.

You narrowed your eyes at him, smirking. "Kinky."

He rolled his eyes feigning annoyance. "You have no idea, sweetheart." His voice was a deep purr as he smirked back at you.

You lifted one eyebrow in amusement. There was this recurrent thing between you two, where you usually teased and flirted with each other but never dared to actually do something about it. It was just for fun right? You were friends who just liked messing around as a joke. Always dancing the line between friends and something more, it was a dangerous game for sure, but you had to admit you loved the thrill of it.

“Is that so? Oh please, do enlighten me then.” You shot back, lying more comfortably on his bed. Arms behind your head, eyes fixed on him.

Hazel gaze traveled all the way down to the now exposed skin of your upper thighs, your movement had caused the shirt – his shirt– to ridden up a little, revealing more of your legs and the underline of a pair of lacy black panties. His pulse spiked slightly at the sight. You didn’t seem to notice, he averted his eyes before you could catch him shamelessly staring at you.

There was a glint in your eyes when he caught your stare again, a slight flush to your cheeks, but he didn’t back off.

“Curious now, are we?” He tilted his head, resting his cheek on his fist to properly look at you.

“Ah, don’t flatter yourself, pretty boy. You brought it up, are you backing out?”

Azriel opened his mouth to respond, a playful spark dancing in his golden eyes, when—

“Fuck, Ness!” Cassian’s growl reached both your ears as clear as day. There was a beat of silence after that where you just stared at each other stunned, then you broke in a fit of laughter.

“Seriously Az, I don’t know how you endure it, if I have to listen to them one more night I’m gonna lose my shit. I haven’t slept in days,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. “and neither have you, it seems.” you pointed out, poking open one eye to stare at him. Azriel had laid back facing you, wings tucked behind his back, shoulders involuntarily curving inwards, a sign of tiredness. You noted the dark circles under his eyes.

“I look that shitty, huh?” he smiled tiredly.

“Never.” You stated matter-of-factly. “You’re always pretty.”

It was his turn to blush then, heat rapidly crawling to his face and neck. He could handle your flirting, your teasing, but he didn’t know how to react when you blatantly called him pretty. It just sounded so…sincere, coming from you. It made his heart flutter in his chest. It was no secret that he found you attractive, he thought he made that clear, but there was more to that, wasn’t there? He didn’t just think you were hot, he thought you were beautiful, smart, and kind, and it freaked the hell out of him to acknowledge all those things because that would mean that he wanted more. More than being your friend, but it terrified him to ruin your friendship. If you wanted him in the same way, you would’ve said something by now, right? You’ve known each other for years.

“What are you thinking about?” you whispered, breath fanning across his face. He hadn’t noticed how close you were. He could feel the heat radiating from your body.

“I’m thinking that we should sleep.” He answered, but made no move whatsoever. You smiled at him and nodded, making to reach the faelight to turn it off. You angled your body half above him and stretched to the bedside table, hair barely grazing the hot skin of his torso. Gods, you were practically straddling him, his mind taking him to all sorts of indecent scenarios. Your breasts were just a breadths away from his mouth, he could make out the perked nipples under the shirt. He loved seeing you in his clothes, but right now he wanted nothing more than to rip the fabric out of you. Azriel swallowed dryly.

What was his fucking problem? It wasn’t like you hadn’t shared a bed before, he blamed his friend’s heated session down the hall. He had to admit it had gotten him a bit railed up, especially with you on his bed, smelling like him. It was hard to ignore the growing want in his veins.

“Goodnight, Az.” You said, pulling back a little to look at him through half lidded eyes, even in the dark. Was it possible you were feeling the same? or was it just tiredness in your features?

“Goodnight, angel.” He whispered back. If you leaned in any closer, he swears he’d kiss you, consequences be damned. But you slid right back onto your side, back facing him.

Azriel lets out a quiet, frustrating sigh, reaching an arm out to wrap around your waist pulling you close. More moaning can be heard outside his bedroom, all the way to Cassian’s room. He feels slightly jealous.

Suddenly you snorted, “We’ll sleep better if we get past the nghs, ohh, right there Cass!” you moaned, imitating Nesta. Azriel inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the way your little whimpering had shot straight to his dick. And the bite of jealousy he felt at hearing Cassian’s name falling so sinfully from your lips.

He scented the slight change in your scent though, a pinch of sweet arousal that got him mouth-watering. It had gotten to your head too, the display of passion from your friends a few bedrooms away. Azriel debated whether it was wise to do something right now, to taste the waters maybe. But you rolled onto your back again, facing the ceiling and letting out a frustrated groan.

“Someone has to teach them though, make them uncomfortably listen for once. Maybe I’ll go to Rita’s tomorrow, choose a random male and bring him home. Beat them at their own game.”

“No.” Azriel growled. You turned your head to the side, looking at him and were met with the dark, lustful haze in his eyes. You felt your core pulse in response. Fuck, why was he so hot?

“What do you mean"no "?" You asked, feeling your tongue paper dry in your mouth.

“Why wait until tomorrow, if you can beat them tonight?”

The offer hung there, unspoken, for a few heartbeats. You felt your face grow hot, felt liquid fire pooling at your belly at the mere suggestion. He hadn’t even touched you and yet he got you all hot and bothered with a few words. You licked your lips, staring at him, shirtless, hair tousled over the pillow, shadows dancing dangerously over his shoulder. As if expecting your answer. He was a sight for sore eyes. It had to be illegal to be this beautiful.

“I’m game if you are, sweetheart.” There it was, the deep purr again that had you clenching your legs together. He noticed the shift of course, smirking smugly.

“Haha, very funny.” you said, huffing.

“I’m not playing.” He pulled you closer, pressing you against his front. You gasped, feeling the not so subtle bulge in his sweatpants, rubbing against the side of your thigh.

“Is this why you kept me at an arm's length tonight?” you chuckled, but he could hear the breathlessness in your voice. “So I wouldn't find out they got you all worked up?”

“No, this isn’t their doing, angel. It's all yours.” He dared a hand down your waist, past your hips, to ghost over the skin under the hem of your shirt. You shuddered. “Tell me to stop and I will. It's okay.”

He lifted the fabric ever so slightly, inching closer to the waistband of your underwear.

You turned fully to him, chests pressed together, breasts dragging against the firm muscle with every breath.

“Fuck it, let’s show them.” You breathed into his mouth before crashing your lips together in a searing kiss.

Azriel groaned low against your mouth, grip tighter bringing your hips flushed together, and kissed you back with fervor. Your hands found purchase in the dark locks at the back of his neck, tugging gently and urging him impossibly closer. He pushed you onto your back, knees parting on their own accord to accommodate him between your legs. It was all so hot and messy. Like you both have been waiting for this for a very long time, it made you throb with need. The thought of him wanting you as much as you wanted him.

You rolled your hips onto him, desperate for any sort of friction, moaning loudly when the clothed tip of his cock catched on your clit deliciously. Azriel took his chance to slip his tongue inside your mouth, exploring every inch and taste of you, kissing you deeply, desperately. He wanted more, he wanted everything. A wave of arousal licked down his spine, your lips were sweet and addictive, he wondered — needed to know— if other parts of you tasted as sweet.

He kissed your jaw, your neck, biting and licking his way down to your collarbones. His right hand came to fondle with the generous swell of your breast over the shirt, pinching at the perked nub. The smell of your arousal hit him at a full force, Azriel felt like a youngling in heat rutting his cock at your core. Fuck, he couldn't help himself, he was so enamoured with the sounds he was getting out of you.

“Take this off,” he ordered, tugging at your shirt. “If I do it I may rip the damn thing off of you, and I love seeing you in my shirt.”

You obeyed without a second thought, too lost in the feeling of him already. He invaded all your senses, his touch sending your skin on fire, his scent sparkling pleasure bubbling in your insides. The rich tone of his voice had you feeling all tingly and sensitive. Gods, you wanted him everywhere.

With the offensive clothing now discarded, Azriel wasted no time dipping his head down and latching his mouth to one of your nipples, swirling his tongue and grazing his teeth around the nub. His hand came to play with your other breast, giving it the same attention, switching between your tits. You arched your back into him, whining in pleasure.

He let go of your chest, looking down to admire you, all spread out for him. Nipples hard and shiny with his spit, breathing unevenly, underwear drenched with arousal, all because of him. He felt his cock throb within the confines of his sweats. Fuck, you looked so pretty like this, he had to taste you. Azriel looked up at your face, your glazed over eyes and swollen lips, and kissed you hard. Scarred fingers found the flimsy material of your panties, pushing them aside and dragging two digits along your soaked folds; you both moaned at the feeling. He rubbed tight circles around your clit, then ran a finger through your slit, smearing your juices everywhere. Your breathing quickened and he bit down your lip before kissing his way to your heat. Azriel looked at you from between your legs, pupils blown with lust, smirking wickedly. He hooked his fingers under the waistband and tugged the material painfully slow down your legs, snarling softly at the sight of your dripping pussy.

“Beautiful,” he moaned. “So damn beautiful.” His tongue darted out to lick a long stripe out your center. It almost knocked the air out of your lungs, your hips bucking off the bed to get closer to his face. He chuckled darkly. “Eager, angel?”

“Az please, stop teasing,” you whined prettily, eyes locking with his.

At this point you didn’t care if your friends could hear or not, you wanted Azriel’s mouth on you, his fingers, his cock. You wanted to feel all of him.

“Whatever my sweet angel wants,” he blew some air into your cunt, making you shiver in anticipation. Azriel dive in, devouring you like a male starved, like he might die if he didn’t get to taste you. He all but full on made out with your pussy, dragging his tongue along your folds, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking sharply. He groaned at your taste, the reverberations causing your eyes to roll back into your head, hips jerking up. He wrapped one arm around your hips to keep you pin to the bed and switched between harsh sucks and flicking the wet muscle around the nub. The pleasure was all too much and not enough at the same time, you moaned his name aloud and tugged at the strands of his hair again.

Azriel’s free hand reached down to spread your folds, soaking his digits in your arousal before proding one finger at your entrance, and pushing inside. Your walls immediately clenched around him, making you both growl in pleasure.

“Fuck, sweetheart, so tight. Already clenching on me,” he moaned, teeth grazing your clit. You could feel the pressure building in your lower belly, walls clamping down on his finger when he added a second one. You cried out, desperately trying to ride his face. Azriel pumped his fingers inside of you faster, curling his digits to reach that sweet spot that had you seeing stars behind your lids. Words were beginning to fail you, mumbling incoherently about how close you were. “You wanna cum? C’mon angel, give it to me, cum all over my face and fingers.”

His words had an immediate effect on you, pushing you over the edge. Pleasure overpowered you and you let go, cumming hard on his fingers, moaning his name for all the house to hear. Azriel kept thrusting his fingers into your hole, guiding you through your orgasm and licking every last drop you had to offer. He watched you closely, eyes shut in pleasure, soft pants leaving your plush lips as you came down from your high. Only then he pulled his hand away, mesmerized by you. He crawled up your body, coming face to face with you.

“Hey,” he whispered, smiling.

“Hey,” you replied, face flushed and smiling satisfied. You reached your hand to push away the dark strands that had fallen into his face, cupping his cheek in your palm. He looked absolutely gorgeous, hair disheveled from your tugging, lips bruised and shiny with your juices, gaze clouded with lust and something else. More intense even, more deep.

You dragged your thumb over his bottom lip and he sucked it into his mouth, you almost whined again. Breaths coming in short. You brought his face to yours, kissing him with such devotion you couldn't hold back any longer. Azriel shuddered, leisurely kissing you back, you could taste yourself on his tongue. Moaning softly, you ranked your nails down his body, from his pecs, to the hard planes of his abdomen, all the way to his cock, palming him through the fabric. He hissed when you slid your fingers past the waistband of his pants, gripping him in your hand. His hips buckled. He was big, and warm and sticky with pre-cum. You made to put his sweatpants down but he stopped you before you could take it any further.

“Fuck baby, are you sure?” he asked, looking intently at you. A swirl of emotions passed through his eyes, it made your heart flutter in your chest. “We don't have to, unless that's what you want. I think we made our point clear.” He laughed breathlessly.

“It is what I want Az. I want you, I need you. Please.” You watched him with pleading eyes, full of trust and… He didn't dare acknowledge that emotion yet, not unless you spoke it out loud. Although his heart still gave a flip. Pulse picking up.

He helped you pull his pants down, and kicked them out of his legs. His cock sprung free, slapping against his abs, tip swollen and dripping. You flashed him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen you wear, dragging your eyes shamelessly through his body. It gave him a little bit of an ego boost.

“You're so pretty Az. So so pretty,” you murmured, eyes half lidded already devouring him.

There it was again, you calling him pretty. He didn't know what to do with himself so he leaned in to capture your mouth in a scorching kiss. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him flush against you, both hissing when the tip of his proud cock bumped against your clit.

You broke the kiss to slide your mouth along his jaw, down his neck, peppering his sun-kissed skin in love bites. Marking him as yours. Azriel groaned and thrust his hips forward, sliding through your folds, coating his length in your arousal. He repeated the action a couple of times before aligning himself with your entrance. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, your wetness and the remnants of your orgasm making it easy to slide all the way in. Your walls hugged him tightly as he bottomed out, stilling, to give you time to adjust to his size. Azriel let out a moan so hot and sinful it made a new wave of arousal wash over you.

He felt on cloud nine, his head falling to the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and letting it intoxicate him. He could’ve cum right then and there, buried to the hilt in your heat. But he wanted it to last, taking his time to savor the feeling of you wrapped around him so perfectly. He had no doubt in his lust filled mind that you were made for him. You were his and only his.

You rolled your hips at last, running your fingers down his sides urging him to move. That was all it took for him to pull out to the tip and slam his hips hard into yours, Azriel set a slow, sensual pace, intended in making you feel every last inch of him. You welcomed the stretch with a wanton moan, feeling the veins with every delicious drag of his cock against your walls.

“Gods, Azriel, more!” you whined. “I can take it.”

“I swear you're gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.” He panted. Pulling out he gripped your hips tightly and turned you onto your stomach, ass up in the air. He thrust in harsher, making you cry out in pleasure. All signs of restraint gone.

Azriel picked up speed, angling his hips just fine so that he could reach even deeper inside you. He quickly found the spot that had you gripping him tight, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Abusing your hole, hitting your g spot every single time, mercilessly. He had you in a state of pure bliss, bringing one arm to wrap around your middle, reaching between your legs to play with your clit. You were so close, already too sensitive from your previous orgasm. Squirming around in his embrace, pushing your ass back to meet his thrusts.

“Fuuck! Don't stop,” you managed out, fisting at the sheets for support.

“I won't,” he grunted, the swollen head of his cock kissing your cervix. “You're mine, do you understand me? Mine. No other male gets to touch you.”

“Yes, yes I'm yours,” you panted, desperately wanting to please him.

“Good girl.”

He was relentless, hips slapping with a force that had the headboard smashing against the wall. He knew you were about to cum, could feel his own orgasm sneaking up on him. Azriel went impossibly faster, pulling sobs out of you. You clamped down on him after one particular sharp thrust and your high barreled through you without previous warning. You screamed, white hot pleasure blinding you. Cum gushed out of you, making a mess of your thighs and his. He held your trembling body up, pressed to him as he fucked you through your orgasm, thrusts becoming sloppier by the second. His wings flared proud behind him and he felt the tight knot in his gut snap. Azriel came with a growl of your name, hips coming to a stop. Your body falling limp atop the bed.

Slowly pulling out of you, he watched astonished at the mess you made, both of your juices dripping down your legs. When his breathing became even again, Azriel leaned in to press a kiss to your spine, making you shudder.

“You okay, angel?” He asked, scarred fingers gently pushing your hair out of your face.

You smiled tiredly at him, content. “I feel amazing.”

He chuckled and laid back next to you, pulling you to lay on his chest. You pressed a kiss over his heart, arms resting on his stomach, still catching your breath. No one spoke for a while, enjoying the aftermath of your actions. There was no room for worry, not with Azriel. Not ever.

He traced iddle circles on your skin, loving how well you fit next to him.

“Az?” You called softly to him, he hummed in acknowledgement. “Do you hear that?”

He stilled, straining his hearing. Muffled moans could be heard down the hall and the distinct sound of a headboard smashing hard against the wall. You laughed in unison.

“I think we may have spurred them on,” he said amusedly, voice hoarse.

“I've never been more glad to have left my room than right now” you chuckled.

“You and I both, angel.” He added, squeezing your ass.

You turned to him, placing a kiss to the outline of his jaw. Silently admiring the hickies you left on his neck.

“How does a second round sound?” You purred.

He smirked, cock already hardening. “Absolutely delightful.”

#azriel shadowsinger #acotar #azriel x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar fandom #azriel fanfic #azriel #acotar series #acotar smut #azriel smut #cassian smut

2K notes · View notes

serpentandlily · 7 months

Text

Untouchable IV - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister! Reader ✨

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court's spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he'd eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on-with Elain, your brother's mate's middle sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that - more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst

a/n: ahhh guys I literally love all of you so much. Thanks for all the love and support on this story!! Hope you enjoy this one just as much!

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part IV

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You stared at yourself in the mirror, quite happy with that way you looked. You were getting ready to make a trip to Hewn City with the rest of the Inner Circle, so you could be announced as their new Overseer. Already donning your mask, a mask you wore just as well as your brother could. You were, after all, raised by the same cruel, unflinching male. After your father died, Rhys had made sure to continue teaching you how to handle the unsavory parts of the Night Court as best he could.

So you had put on a dress that demanded attention. It was Night Court black, of course, with a halter top bodice that connected to a high neck collar. Starting from just below your breasts, the dress was cut into two panels to cover your front and back, laced together with a black ribbon on the sides. It clung to your curves and showed off more skin than you usually did.

The entire side of your legs, your hip bone and waist, all exposed and accentuated by the dress. Some kohl liner brought your star-flecked, violet eyes to life. Your hair was curled and spilled down your back freely. You felt beautiful. Devastatingly beautiful. The Princess of Night.

You finished the look with the diadem your brother had given you. It was made of Illyrian metal with dark red jewels decorating the intricately twisted vines. It was perfect for the Court of Nightmares.

As you made your way down the stairs, you could already feel the disapproving stare of your brother. Only him and Cassian were waiting in the foyer. Cass was in his Illyrian leathers and your brother was wearing a finely tailored black coat and pants with his own crown on his head.

“Nice try, dove,” Rhys chided. “Go back upstairs and change into the dress I had Nuala lay out for you this morning.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “No. I bought this one specifically for today and I’m going to wear it.”

“No, you’re not.” Cass snorted as Rhys tried to assert his dominance. “Go change. Now.”

“No. I’m wearing this. You can’t make me change my mind.”

“Oh, I can make you,” your brother sneered. He could, you supposed, use his High Lord voice to order you to change. And then you literally wouldn’t be able to refuse.

Before he could though, you shouted for his mate. “Feyre!”

Your High Lady and sister-in-law walked into the room with a baby Nyx on her hip. She was wearing a beautiful, glimmering black dress that fell in a deep v to her navel. Slits on both sides of the skirt exposing her legs and a twin crown to the one Rhys was wearing sat on her head. Nyx was also dressed in black with a tiny version of their crown on his own head. The sight of them both was too adorable.

“What’s going on out here?” Feyre asked, sliding up to Rhys’s side. He strung an arm around her, pulling her and his son close.

You gave your brother a cheeky grin. “Your mate wants me to go change because he’s a big, overprotective, insufferable bat.”

Your brother glared at you as Feyre smacked his arm. “Leave your sister alone, Rhys. She can wear whatever she wants.”

The two of you shared a smile as Rhys let out a sigh of annoyance. “You know, I thought having a mate meant always having someone on your side. I would’ve never brought you here if I knew you’d end up conspiring with my sister against me all the time.”

“You're lucky you ended up with such a smart, beautiful mate that can check you before you embarrass yourself, Rhysie,” you laughed as Feyre stuck her tongue out at him. Rhys scoffed at both of you as you giggled with each other at his reaction.

“What are you guys giggling about out here?” Mor and Nesta walked into the room, both dressed as finely as everyone else.

Feyre started to answer Mor but your attention drifted as Azriel appeared in the shadow of the hallway, striding towards the group. He was wearing his Illyrian leathers like Cass, all seven of his cobalt siphons on display. Azriel always looked intimidating, but even more so today as his leathers clung to his muscles and highlighted the lethality of his stone-cut face.

His eyes immediately locked onto yours and widened as he took you in. His gaze dipped down and roamed your entire body and when he looked back up, his eyes were filled with hunger and heat, before he blinked and his cold mask was back on. You gave him no reaction, merely glancing away from him as if his presence had no effect on you. But the butterflies in your stomach begged otherwise.

Elain came walking down the stairs at the same time, dressed in black yet way more modestly than the rest of you. You couldn’t help but notice how out of place she looked.

“You’re coming?” Nesta asked, peering at Elain in surprise. “I thought Hewn City was far too much for you delicate sensibilities.”

Mor snorted as Elain scowled at her sister. “I’m only coming to show my support for y/n.”

She smiled at you and you gave her a grateful nod. Even if you were jealous of her for winning over the shadowsinger, you’d never blame her for him being an asshole. You also didn’t want Azriel to know you were bothered about it. You might not be as prideful as your brother was, but you’d rather suffer in complete silence than let anyone think they’ve made you feel insecure. Perhaps it was a family trait.

“I’ve had your stuff, and Azriel’s, sent over to the Moonstone Palace already,” Rhys said as everyone congregated. “So you can spend the rest of the week getting situated with your new role as planned.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “But I already asked Cass to be my escort and he agreed–”

“Cassian forgot he has other duties that I already assigned to him this week.”

Cassian gave you a sheepish look and you let out a huff. “What about Balthazar?”

Balthazar was the Illyrian warrior who had helped Nesta and Emerie during the Blood Rite. He now worked closely with training the Illyrian females and helping them merge with the Valkyries. He was a good male and an excellent warrior—but more importantly, he wasn’t Azriel.

You could feel Azriel’s stare as you kept your focus on your brother. He waved a dismissive hand. “Azriel’s already agreed and I’d rather him guard over my sister than some untested Illyrian.”

Your hands clenched, annoyed but you nodded, not wanting your brother to get suspicious. With that, your brother winnowed the group to the gates leading into the Court of Nightmares. You took your place behind Feyre and Rhysand and Azriel slid into the space next to you as your designated guard, apparently. You managed to keep your stare straight forward as you began to walk towards the throne room.

Azriel took a step closer to you, his shadows cascading around your ankles. “Do you hate my presence so much now that you’d rather some random brute take my place as your guardian?” he muttered under his breath.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re the one who told me to stay away from you. I’m only doing as you asked. And Balthazar is not some random brute. He is a friend.”

“Since when?” he hissed.

“Not that it's any of your business, but I had been helping with the training of the Illyrian females before I left for the continent. Balthazar is another one of the trainers.”

Azriel said nothing else as your group finally entered the throne room. You could feel the stares of all the fae in the room, likely wondering why the High Lord had called for a party. You followed Rhys and Feyre to the dais, where Azriel held out a gloved hand to help you up the steps. You grabbed it, not wanting to embarrass him in front of a bunch of vultures who already thought of him as less than, and took your place behind Rhys’s throne.

You and Feyre were the two people in your brother’s life that he had vowed would never have to bow to anyone. And he took that quite seriously. So while everyone else was forced to lower themselves to the ground, you stood at his side.

You glanced at the crowd of people in the throne room. Your eyes widened as you noticed Eris next to Keir. You hadn’t been expecting him.

“You can rise now,” Feyre said after leaving them on the floor for a few moments.

And then it was time for the big announcement.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The party was in full swing, music playing, faeries dancing. Despite their despise for their High Lord, the fae down here took any excuse to get up to some debauchery. You still remained at the dais next to your brother, Azriel now a step behind you, like the guardian he was supposed to be.

Cassian stood on the other side of the dais by Feyre with Nesta, both ready to protect her and baby Nyx should they have to. Mor had claimed a table where she and Elain now sat, the latter looking uncomfortable as she peered around at the party taking place.

Keir stood before Rhys and Feyre, a forced look of respect on his face. It seemed to almost pain him and you had to hide your grin.

“My Lord, if I may ask, why have you decided to pass along the role of Overseer to someone as young and unpracticed as your sister?” Keir asked, his voice full of condescension. “And to do so without any input from me. It seems like an insult to us in this court—to not have one of our own be a representation for Hewn City.”

“I think you forget yourself, Keir,” Rhys sneered. “Me and your High Lady make every decision for this court and we certainly don’t require your input nor your opinions. You will show my sister respect. She is more than capable of what her title requires of her.”

“Can you blame me, my Lord, for having my doubts? Your sister has never dealt with court politics. It might be naive to place her in such a position.”

You took a step forward, standing tall as you looked down at your uncle. “You seem to forget, uncle, that I was the one who ran the Night Court during my brother’s absence for fifty years. You also seem to forget that your daughter’s mercy is the only reason you are still standing here today. Watch your mouth or perhaps you will find that I do not share the same leniency towards you as she does.”

Keir’s face twisted into an ugly scowl, but he did the smart thing by keeping his mouth shut. Though his eyes flickered towards the shadowsinger over your shoulder and a bit of fear flashed through him. Luckily, he didn’t hold your attention for long as a redhead suddenly appeared in front of you, at the bottom of the platform’s steps.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Eris purred, holding out his hand to you. His eyes roamed down the length of your body before they met yours. Your brother’s hands tightened on his throne’s arm rests but one look from Feyre kept his mouth shut.

You placed your hand in his, blushing slightly as he leaned down to press a kiss to the back of your hand. “Would you allow me the honor of being your first dance tonight, Princess?”

Azriel growled in warning from behind you but you ignored him, instead looking towards your brother. He gave you a slight dip of the head as permission to leave your post, so you let Eris help you down the steps.

Eris escorted you to the dance floor just as a new song began. You let Eris begin to lead you through the dance, one hand in his and the other one on his shoulder, as his free arm looped around your waist.

“It is a surprise to see Rhysand finally letting his coveted little bird out of her cage,” Eris whispered into your ear as he twirled you around the dance floor, a devilish smirk on his face.

“He can be persuaded,” you whispered back with a feline smile of your own.

“Does that have anything to do with a shadowsinger who looks like he wants to kill me more than usual?”

As he spun you around, you couldn’t help but glance at Azriel. He had moved from his post closer to the dance floor, to keep you and Eris in his line of sight.

His eyes were narrowed, his shadows spiraling around him like snakes ready to strike, as he watched you dance with Eris. You wanted to roll your eyes at his behavior. He didn’t get to be a complete asshole to you and then act all protective.

“It has nothing to do with the shadowsinger,” you answered, gasping as Eris yanked you closer just in time to get out of the way of another couple drunkenly dancing. “It was all my negotiating that got me my new title. So I suppose I’ll be seeing a lot more of you now?”

“It seems so, my Lady,” Eris crooned.

His amber eyes flashed to something over your shoulder and based on the smirk that spread on his face, that something was probably a certain shadowsinger. He met your gaze again, mischief sparkling on his face.

“In fact, there is something I’ve been meaning to discuss with Mor in private, but I guess now that would be you, wouldn't it?”

You nodded, peering around and noting Rhys and Feyre distracted by a line of couriers vying for their attention. Keir was off in a dark corner conversing with a male you recognized as Lord Thanatos. You looked back at Eris and he quirked an eyebrow. “It appears most everyone has their hands occupied right now. Shall we seek somewhere private after this?”

Eris leaned down, his warm breath brushing against your ear. “I’d like that very much, Princess.”

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes as he stood back up with a charming grin on his face. “You are as much of a flirt as your brother is,” you chided, waiting for the song to end so you could make your exit without drawing attention.

“Don’t tell me you’re referring to little Lucien? Doesn’t he have a mate he's still pining after?”

As you were spun again, you glanced back at Azriel, whose arms were crossed as he continued to glare in your direction. Good, you were glad he was upset.

“Not lately,” you answered. It was true; Lucien rarely came around if Elain was present. He seemed to have given up on trying to win her attention for the time being. Perhaps he had also noticed the growing interest between her and Azriel.

“Well I say good for him,” Eris chuckled. “A Vanserra has never had to beg a female for her heart. They merely present it to us on a platter.”

“You are so full of it, Eris.”

The music finally lulled to a stop and Eris let go of you, holding out his arm instead. “Allow me to prove it to you, Princess.”

You slipped a hand into the crevice of his elbow as you dipped out of the throne room before anyone could notice. Just as you had stepped into the corridor, a cold hand wrapped around your upper arm, halting the both of you. You already knew who it was before you turned around.

Azriel was seething as he glanced between the two of you. “You aren’t supposed to go anywhere without an escort, y/n. You know that.”

You glanced at him as if he were inconveniencing you, though you knew he had followed. “I have one,” you replied, nodding your head towards Eris, who gave the shadowsinger a cunning smirk.

“He doesn’t count,” Azriel hissed.

“Fine, then I guess it’s a good thing you’re here,” you shrugged before turning back around and leading Eris down the hallway. “Come, I know a private place we can go to.”

You chatted with Eris as you walked, completely ignoring the angry bat that followed one step behind. Azriel was really starting to confuse you further. What the hell was he so upset about when he made his choice in Elain so clear?

You took them down a dark, narrowed hall that looked like it was a dead end but a door appeared as you approached. It was just another secret meeting room. There were many in this court and you were familiar with most. You let Eris enter first and stood in the threshold blocking Azriel’s way.

“Thank you, Azriel,” you said politely. “But I have it from here.”

Azriel looked at you and then over your shoulder at Eris, his eyes full of icy rage. “Your brother has ordered me to stay with you at all times, y/n. Especially in the case of being around someone who may wish you harm.”

Eris snorted and you glanced back at him. “Hm Eris, do you plan on harming me?”

“I was hoping to do quite the opposite, Princess.” His voice was full of wicked promise.

Azriel growled lowly and the noise sent a shiver down your spine that you fought to cover up. “See, there’s no need for you here,” you chimed and then before he could even take a step forward, you slammed the door in his face and locked it. You quickly threw up a ward knowing he’d still try to spy with his shadows.

Eris chuckled as he sat down on one of the plush couches. You took a seat on the one opposite, conjuring up a tray with two empty glasses and a bottle of expensive liquor on the coffee table between you.

“So, what is it you wanted to discuss?” you asked as you poured the both of you a glass.

“Oh, there is nothing of importance for us to discuss. I just quite enjoy getting a rise out of the shadowsinger and for some reason, he seems to be particularly bothered with my proximity to you.” Eris crossed his legs and threw his arm around the back of the couch. The perfect picture of a male proud of himself. “Thank you for unintentionally helping me in my quest. I’m sure your shadowsinger thinks I’m trying to seduce you in here.”

“Are you serious?” you scoffed. “You pulled me from enjoying my own party just to make Azriel upset?”

“Oh please, we both know no one enjoys the parties down here.” He waved a dismissive hand in the air. “And it wasn’t the only reason. It's not very often that Rhys lets his little sister be in the presence of those he considered unsavory. Perhaps I am interested in your company as well.”

“Well you’ve got my full, undivided attention now,” you replied, sitting back against the couch with your glass in your hand.

Eris grabbed his glass as well, twirling it in his hand as he studied you. “So, tell me, why is it that the shadowsinger is pacing back and forth in front of the door, cursing me under his breath, as we speak?”

“He’s an overprotective, Illyrian bat. Just like my brother and Cassian,” you said in dismissal.

“Hm, I’m not quite sure that’s the only reason.”

“You seem to have an obsession with Azriel, Eris. Do you want me to put in a good word for you?” You gave him a brazen smile.

“Alright, little bird, I’ll drop it. I’m far more interested in the beautiful female sitting in front of me as it is.” You hated that your cheeks turned pink at his words. Eris was handsome with his red hair and amber eyes. Even his scent of cinnamon and vetiver was enticing. But he just wasn’t Azriel. “Will you indulge me in a game of chess as we chat?”

Glad to move on from the subject, you did just that.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“Alright, that’s enough—”

You were nearly three rounds deep in a game of chess when the door burst open and Azriel came stalking inside. You jumped a bit at the intrusion as Eris’s focus stayed on the chessboard like he had anticipated this.

You looked up at the shadowsinger who was panting, his hair in disarray. His eyes widened as he took in the casual scene of you and Eris playing a game of chess. You raised an eyebrow at him but he only continued to glower at Eris.

“Enough of what, shadowsinger?” Eris asked nonchalantly as he moved one of his chess pieces.

“Enough of whatever the fuck you guys are doing,” Azriel huffed before looking at you with his arms crossed. “You’re needed back in the throne room. Now.”

You very much doubted that, but decided to play along. You were losing this game anyways. You set your glass down on the table and stood, straightening out your gown. “Apologies, Eris, but apparently, duty calls.”

Eris stood as well, gathering his coat that he had discarded at one point. “I should be getting back before my father grows suspicious anyways. I would very much like to do this again, Princess, if you’ll have me,” he said, grasping your hand and pressing a kiss to it like he did before.

You gave him a slight dip of the head. “You know where to find me.”

He said his goodbyes, not without throwing a smirk in Azriel’s direction, before he disappeared, leaving only some crackling embers in his wake. You went to leave the room but Azriel reached an arm over your head and shut the door right in your face. You let out a disgruntled noise and turned around to Azriel towering over you, his gaze darkened.

“I thought I was needed in the throne room,” you said, sarcastically.

He ignored you, keeping one hand on the door to keep it closed as he watched you. “So, you’re into Eris now? He’s a dangerous male, y/n.”

“I think I can decide that for myself,” you snapped. “Maybe I am interested in him. What does it matter to you?”

He took a step closer, boxing you in against the door much like he had done that night. “I already told you it matters to me.”

“You also told me to stay away from you. So why did you agree to be my guard for the next week? Why the fuck are you here?”

“Because someone has to watch over you! Especially when you decide to go strutting around in a dress like this,” he growled. “Tell me something, Princess, just who exactly did you have in mind when you put this on?”

His gloved hand trailed up the side of your thigh, to where the dress was held together with ribbon. You hated how much your skin tingled at his touch, hated the butterflies that arose in your stomach at his heated stare. Hating how your heart picked up its pace.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “If you’re implying that it was you I was thinking of, Azriel, then I’d say you think far too highly of yourself.”

“Your body says otherwise,” he growled, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

You put both your hands on his chest and pushed him away. “No, no! You don’t get to do this, Azriel! You came to me. You came to my balcony, almost kissed me, and then disappeared for days! And then the next time I saw you, you had your tongue down Elain’s throat before running off to go fuck eachother.”

“I didn’t fuck Elain,” he grunted. “I’ve never fucked Elain.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No…I don’t know—fuck!” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

“I did as you said. I left you alone like you wanted,” you spat at him. “You cannot come back to me and cast any sort of judgment on who I wish to spend my time with. You can’t come to me and act like you want me now. You had your chance and you were the one who walked away. So why won’t you just leave me alone?”

You said the words but your heart was screaming the opposite. All you wanted was to grab him, to kiss him, to continue where you guys had left off that night. You can tell in the way he stared at you that he wanted the same. But you deserved better than that—better than this.

“Because I can’t. I can’t stay away from you,” Azriel said. He looked unhinged, desperate. As if your mere presence caused him such conflict. His eyes were pleading you for something, but you had no idea what he even wanted. He was so hot and cold.

So you squared your shoulders and straightened the crown on your head.

“Well, that's your problem not mine,” you said before finally leaving the room.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Gods, the last few days had been draining. Dealing with Keir was a headache without having to also be around the brooding shadowsinger. You two hadn’t spoken to each other besides small words in passing and you tried to ignore his heavy gaze most of the time. The rest of your family had returned to Velaris after the party, leaving just you two to occupy the Moonstone Palace. Thankfully it was a rather big place which made it easier to avoid Azriel.

But you still had half a week left with him here.

You sank yourself further down in the bathtub, twisting your wine glass in your hand. You had a lot to think about. Your brother was crafting a response to Prince Cedric and needed your input of whether you wished to get to know him better, if you felt anything towards him. Eris had also sent you a letter today. Apparently this time he actually did have something of importance to share with you, but had also admitted to wishing to see you again.

Perhaps it was time to move on from Azriel. Prince Cedric was handsome and kind, with his wavy blonde hair and cerulean eyes. But he lived on the continent, would eventually rule there, and you didn’t know if you could live so far away from your brother, nephew and soon to be niece.

And then there was Eris. All the Vanserra males were annoyingly attractive and one day soon, he’d be the High Lord of Autumn. But he was complex. Half the time you didn’t even know which mask was his real personality. Was he really a kind male underneath that cruel armor he wore? Not to mention his past with your cousin.

You sighed and drank the rest of your wine before getting out of the bath. You pulled on your silk nightgown, the Palace charmed too warm to wear anything else to sleep, and dried your hair with some magic. It was late and you figured it was safe enough now to wonder about—figuring Azriel was asleep or at the very least, in his own bed chambers.

You made your way down the vast corridors until you ended up right in front of the double doors leading into the study. Your brain was restless right now, but maybe some reading would help. You pushed the doors open and immediately wanted to curse the Mother. Of course you would jinx yourself. Of course the shadowsinger would be in the study already.

Azriel looked up as the doors opened, his eyes finding yours. He looked…rough. His hair was in disarray, his eyes shadowed, and an almost empty bottle of whiskey sat on the small table in front of the armchair he was sitting in. You stood there for a moment, both staring at each other, until the doors slamming closed behind you made you jump.

You let out a sigh and turned around, ready to leave, when his voice stopped you. “Don’t…Don’t leave. Please.”

The desperation in his voice made you pause and you studied the intricate doors in front of you. You should leave. You absolutely should walk through those doors and go back to your private bed chambers. But…But this tension between the two of you was a dark cloud lingering over you. You had never had a contentious relationship with anyone in the Inner Circle.

So you stayed, turning around and letting out a gasp as you came face to face with Azriel. You hadn’t even heard him move, hadn’t heard him even get up. You placed a hand over your heart and took a step back, putting more distance between the two of you.

He reached for you but you took another step back, sniffing the air. “You’re drunk, Az.”

“I know,” he said, darkly. “But I can’t take this shit anymore. I can’t do anything when I know how upset you are with me. I hate it, y/n. I hate that I’ve hurt you.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, upset. How could he be taking this so poorly when he was the one who caused all of this? You said nothing, just stared at him expectantly.

“Princess…” he trailed off, staring down at you with melancholy eyes. “I…Can we please just forget about the past week? I can’t stand you being upset with me. Can we just…go back to how things used to be—before all of this?”

“How?” you breathed out. “How am I just supposed to forget?”

How could you forget the hurt he had caused you…how could you erase the image of him and Elain stumbling into the River House in a heat of passion…by the cauldron, how could you forget about the way he treated you at training…and the night on the balcony afterwards. How?

“I don’t know,” he whispered, running a hand through his hair. He looked devastating in the dim faelights of the study, surrounded by marble bookcases and the open walls looking out towards the mountains. Even as dishelved as he was. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m so, so sorry that I hurt you. I fucked up. I should’ve never come to you that night…I should’ve never touched you.”

Hurt flashed across your face. Had he really not wanted you that night? Had you completely misinterpreted his actions? Was he about to finally tell you he didn’t want you—that he wanted Elain and was sorry for leading you on? You didn’t know if your heart could take it…

“No, don’t…” Azriel said, seeming to notice where your thoughts had turned. “I don’t mean it like that, princess.” He reached a hand forward, brushing some of your hair behind your ear. “I did want you…I still do. But you have to understand, we can’t. This…us…it can never happen.”

“Why?” you choked out. He didn’t make any sense. If you wanted him, and he wanted you, then what the hell was stopping either of you? Was he scared of how your brother might react? If that was the case then he could just say so. You could deal with Rhys.

His hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb rubbing against the soft skin. You shouldn’t let him touch you. Shouldn’t even be so close to him. But Gods, your heart ached for his touch.

“Because,” he started, then faltered for a moment. “Because it just can’t, princess. I’m sorry.”

You pushed his hand away from you. “You owe me more than that, Azriel! You owe me a godsdamn explanation. Why? Why can’t it happen? Because of Elain–”

“No,” he growled. “It has nothing to do with Elain. I don’t even care about Elain. I just want you—”

“I don’t think you know what you want, Azriel,” you scoffed. “You can’t stand here and say you don’t want Elain after what I witnessed between you two. I saw you, you know, in the kitchens that night. I saw you together before I even went to the continent. So don’t tell me you don’t want her, don’t care for her!”

“It’s the truth,” he pleaded. “I swear to the Gods themselves. I don’t want Elain. I have never wanted Elain. I have never even wanted Mor. All I’ve ever wanted was you. You and only you.”

“You’re not making any sense,” you cried. “How can you even say that? I watched you pine after Mor for years! And now everything with Elain—”

“I need you to understand, princess. I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted to. But we cannot happen. I saw the way you looked at me and Gods, I wanted nothing other than to tell you how I felt. But you…I can never have you. So I pretended to pine after Mor for years hoping you’d move on. And then she came out to all of us, told us she preferred females, so I had to find someone else—”

“You expect me to believe that this whole time you’ve been pretending to like other girls? Mor, maybe I can believe because you never pursued her. But Elain? Azriel, I stumbled upon you guys twice! It certainly didn’t look like you were pretending.”

“Because that night in the kitchens I was trying to make myself want her. Make myself want anyone other than you. Because I can’t have you, princess, don’t you get it! It’s fucking agony to crave you the way I do and not be able to do anything about it. So I tried, Gods, I tried to move on. But it didn’t work. We never got past what you saw. I couldn’t force myself to want her because I don’t. I don’t want anyone other than you.”

“And what about the second time? Were you just pretending then, as well?”

“I knew you were home that night. I had been tracking you the whole day with my shadows. After what happened between us on the balcony, I was scared you’d try to act on your feelings for me. So I purposefully sought out Elain. Purposefully led her back when I knew you’d be there to catch us. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I hurt you but I needed you to move on. Even if it meant you’d hate me.”

“I-I don’t understand,” you stuttered. “If you want me and I want you, then what’s stopping us, Azriel? Why do you keep saying you can’t have me? Is it because of my brother? Do you think he wouldn’t approve—wouldn’t think you deserving? Because you are, Az. I love—”

Azriel surged forward and pressed you against the door with a hand around your mouth, wings snapped out to their full length. Your eyes widened as you looked up at him, your chest heaving.

“Don’t,” he snarled. “Don’t say it. Don’t. I won’t be able to control myself and this will all be for nothing. This will all end horribly.”

When you made no move to say anything else, his hand slowly dropped from your mouth. You felt tears line your eyes. You felt frustrated, mad, upset. You couldn’t wrap your head around what he was trying to tell you.

“At least tell me why, Azriel. Don’t you think I deserve that? You said you’re sorry for hurting me but can’t you see how much you’re hurting me by doing this? It hurts more to know you want me the way I want you but not enough to be with me.”

Azriel let out a groan and sank to his knees in front of you, bowing his head. “You have no idea how much I want you, princess. No idea. It is you who is in my head every single second of every single day. It is you I think about as I fall asleep and you I think about the moment I awake. I would crawl through hell on my knees just to be able to kiss you, to hold you, to love you. But I can’t….I can’t, y/n.”

You held your breath, a few tears leaking from your eyes. This was everything you’d ever wanted. These were words he had only ever told you in your dreams. And here he was, finally saying them for real. But in the same breath, telling you that this, that you and him, would never, ever happen.

“Why?” you whispered. “Why?”

But Azriel said nothing further. Just knelt on his knees in front of you like he was praying to the Gods, his head bowed between his shoulders, his wings drooping against the floor. You waited for him to say anything, anything that might help you understand. But nothing…nothing ever came from his mouth.

You loosened a breath, your heart heavy in your chest and left.

Left Azriel on his knees in that room, with the words he said hanging over him like a death sentence.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Tag List: @kalulakunundrum @going-through-shit @thelov3lybookworm @tinystarfishgalaxy @cat-or-kitten @abysshaven @vhjlucky13 @polli05927 @nightcourtwritings @wicked-mind @mommyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @nightless @a-frog-with-a-laptop @woodland-mist @tothestarsandwhateverend @lizziesfirstwife @e-dollly @hyemishii @pricklepearbloom @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @bookishbroadwaybish @pinkangelskies @naturakaashi @sofietargaryen @minakay @alexboshallex @amysangel @i-am-infinite @furiousbooklover @glitterypirateduck @valencia-rou @pinkcowracing @marvelpotter @kennedy-brooke @stupidwingboy @foreverrandomwritings @marvelouslovely-barnes @persephonesong @furiousbooklover @dxjaaaa @kristeristerin @naturakaashi @starlightshowdown @torchbearerkyle @emme-looou @wiseheartzombie @moonlwghts @f4iry-bell @imnotsiriusyouare @val-writesstuff @saltedcoffeescotch @toxic-nathyyy @feiwelinchen @bookslut420 @awkwardnerd

*If you don't see your username and you asked to be tagged, it's bc it won't let me for some dumb reason.

*Hope you guys don't hate me too much!! We'll get some more Az POV soon and maybe next part we'll finally get some answersss ;)

#acotar #fanfic #azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #angst #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fic #azriel acotar #azriel x you #shadowsinger x reader #original character #acotar writing

1K notes · View notes

shadowdaddies · 1 month

Text

Closer to You

Rhys x Reader smut

A/N: this can be read as a part 2 to Close to You, or on its own. PRIOR CONSENT BY BOTH PARTIES IS IMPLIED. Read the warnings, loves

Warnings: somnophilia, pure smut, oral f! receiving, p in v sex

Rhys finished his work, leaning back in his chair to hold your sleeping form close to his chest. A small mewl of pleasure escaped you as his cock brushed your walls, the new angle drawing pleasure from you even in your sleep.

Hips rolled against his, breathy moans escaping you in dreams at the feeling of your mate filling you deeply, tip sliding against your sensitive walls. Rhys bit back a moan, teeth digging into his lip while he stood slowly and winnowed you to your shared bedroom.

Laying you down on the mattress, Rhys looked down at your form, ethereal in the glow of the moon as he planned his next move. You were too peaceful to disturb, body too soft and vulnerable for him to desecrate how he desired. Eyes darkened as he scented your arousal building even in slumber, hips rolling against the sheets in front of him in a beckoning call.

Rhys’s hands slid up your legs, your mate anticipating the sharp gasp that left you as he spread your legs, warm core exposed to the cold air of your bedroom.

Testing the waters, Rhys kissed up your thighs, hot lips and onyx locks tickling the skin as he worked upwards toward your core.

You writhed beneath him, blissfully unaware that your dream was reality as your mind imagined your mate’s tongue against your body. Soft licks slowly worked up your legs, warm and cold spreading through you from the pleasurable sensations.

Rhys licked a careful stripe up your pussy, strategic in his slow assault on your core. Small gasps escaped you, moans echoing through the room as your eyes fluttered under his tantalizing touch.

Tongue dipped into your core, Rhys lapping eagerly at your arousal while you ground against him, your subconscious convincing you that this was all a perfect dream.

Warm hands caressed your breasts, tweaking your nipples as Rhys’s movements became more frantic. Your moans left him rutting against the bed, desperate for friction as he longed to be inside of you.

Eyes rolled, back arched as you crashed into your high, the wave bringing you from your deep sleep to a half-wakened state. You recognized the form of your mate, aglow in the soft night light above you as his tip pressed against your entrance.

With a lazy smile, your legs wrapped around him, urging him to thrust. Rhys’s thick cock filled you, awakening you fully to see the concentration on his face, how hard he was trying to stay gentle with you in your sleepy state.

“Rhys,” you whispered, earning a glance from violet eyes that danced with galaxies. “Fuck me hard, please.”

The sound was a weak mewl, needy and desperate for distraction from the day you’d had. As though understanding your desire, Rhys’s hips met yours fully, joined sounds leaving both of you at the full stretch.

You looked up through glassy eyes, hunger stirring within you as your hands found his neck. “More,” you urged, rolling your hips against his for emphasis.

Rhys groaned, the High Lord’s strong arms bracketing you, as they forced your legs over his shoulders. “I love you,” he whispered against your lips, his cock sliding out of you for only a moment before he thrust back in fully.

Nails scraped against his back, clawing desperately at your mate’s tattooed skin as his hips rolled against yours, cock brushing deep inside of you with each movement.

Your high reached you quickly, Rhys’s stomach brushing against your clit as he hammered out both of your frustrations.

His name left your lips like a prayer, chanting for mercy and strength as you felt his release inside of you. Collapsing into your hold, Rhys’s lips found your neck, licking the sweaty skin there, kissing and nipping along the curves of your body.

A soft laugh escaped your lips, fully coming to your senses to see your mate panting above you, sweaty bodies intertwined as pleasure settled deep in your bones.

“I need a bath,” you whispered, pausing to kiss your mate’s neck. The taste of salt seeped through your tongue, “And so do you.”

Rhys’s soft groan sent a jolt through your sensitive core, his mirthful stare all-knowing at your reaction. “Then let’s go, darling,” he purred, arms wrapping around to hold you against him as he stood. “I’ll take good care of you.”

350 notes · View notes

lalacliffthorne · 4 months

Text

💜 starshine pt. VI 💜

Rhys x Reader

part I part II part III part IV part V part VI

summary: when after more than a century, things finally begin falling into place.

notes: I can't believe how long this took - both writing this next part and the actual things happening *facepalms*. and these twoooo 😭💕. I can't. they make me feel so mushy and happy and all giddy and warm. and all of you, loving this so much, make me feel even more mushy and happy and giddy, so thank you so much for staying with me on this!! if everything goes to plan, this is actually the second to last chapter, and we are, finally, getting somewhere ;)

______________________________________________________________

With a sharp inhale, my eyes snapped open, and my breath staggered.

The sheets were clinging to my skin, damp with cold sweat, my heart pounding painfully against my ribs as blood rushed through my ears and my gaze darted over a high, dark ceiling and for a second, panic and a dull pain rose in my chest, my body frozen still.

Then I realised that a weight was resting over my stomach and a scent was flooding my senses, so achingly familiar, my muscles melted.

Quickly, I turned my head, and my lungs squeezed.

In the silvery light of the moon shining through the windows, I could see Rhys' dark shape stretched out on the mattress next to me, the dips and planes of his muscular back rising and falling slowly with his even breaths. His head was resting on the pillow next to me, his face turned my way, brows smoothed over and eyes closed, his dark hair unruly and tousled, swirls of darkness stretching over his broad shoulders and down the arm that was loosely resting over my waist, his skin radiating warmth through my thin nightgown.

My heart soared before free falling, and I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, fighting against the echoes of screams and laughter in my ears, the feeling of cruel darkness and bound magic and hands slipping away into nothingness.

Suddenly, the air felt too stiffled, too stale, too reminiscent of the nightmare that had been reality.

Hastily, I slid out from under Rhys' arm, pushing the covers to the side and slipping off the mattress, my feet quick on the cool floorboards as I darted over to the huge windows soundlessly, tearing at them until they were open and a soft, cool breeze brushed over my skin.

My heart squeezed tightly, and I breathed in, quick and deep, the scent of sweet petals and night leaving an ache growing in my chest as my gaze darted over the garden below that was bathed in starlight, flowers glowing and faeries floating over the water reflecting the galaxies above.

My fingers curled around the window handle before loosening, and something in my chest quivered when I let my forehead sink against the cool wooden frame and squeezed my eyes shut.

I could still feel the heavyness on my chest, the ache pulsing under my ribs as images flashed before my eyes, and something closed around my throat.

Sliding my hand off the window, I looked over my shoulder towards the bed, and the ache in my chest soared at the dark shape still motionless on the mattress, breathing evenly.

Fighting against the sudden pressure in my throat, I moved, quickly slipping past the bed and out of the room.

The house was silent as I hastened soundlessly down the stairs, my long sleek nightgown swishing around my ankles as I slipped past the table and opened one of the big windows leading out onto the terrace. The gentle night breeze whispered over my bare arms and shoulders, and I squeezed out into the night, the stone of the terrace cold under my feet as I moved down the steps before it was replaced by cool, soft grass.

Faeries were swishing through the glowing flowers, darting towards me and showering me in golden dust, tittering softly and curiously before whizzing away again.

Slowly, my steps calmed, and I closed my eyes, breathing in the fresh air, feeling flowers and high grass brush my hands, warmth slowly spreading through me that seemed to stem from the earth itself.

Next to the pond that reflected the galaxies twinkling over the mountains, I let myself plop down into the soft grass, stretching out and staring up into the sky. My palms pressed against the earth, and I closed my eyes, focusing on the soft hum of energy that slowly travelled through me, golden light lazily flooding through my veines until my chest squeezed and my breath shuddered.

My heart tipped over; I opened my eyes, and movement at the edge of my field of vision made me turn my head.

Something rose and pulsed gently under my ribs when I saw the dark figure standing on the terrace.

Even from a distance, I caught the moment violet eyes clocked me by the pond, bare shoulders sinking a little, swishes of darkness whispering into nothingness as Rhys' gaze pierced mine. Then he moved, beginning to slowly walk down the steps.

Resting my cheek on the grass, I watched as he came towards me, movements smooth and elegant, his tousled hair black like ink in the night, violet eyes reflecting the silver and purple above. His pants were sitting low on his hips, and something twisted in my stomach at the sight of shifting muscles disappearing into black fabric.

The silk of his pants swished against my skin when Rhys crouched down and let himself plop down onto the ground next to me. Then his shoulder brushed against mine and he stretched out on the grass, one of his hands sliding up to rest on his stomach. His body dwarfed mine even shoulder to shoulder, my feet barely level with his shins, and I stared at the side of his face as his gaze dragged slowly over the night sky above, something dipping and swerving, squeezing and fluttering in my chest as my eyes flickered over his nose and lips, the sharp line of his jaw and cheekbones, and suddenly, my breath hitched in my throat.

“What happened?”

Rhys' quiet voice, deep and a little raspy with sleep, tore me out of the pulsing feeling under my ribs, and when I blinked, he turned his head to look at me.

I tried to swallow against the flutter in my throat, the ache in my chest that staring at him had awakened. Rhys seemed to misinterpret my silence, one corner of his lips tipping up gently as his gaze slowly moved over my face.

“As far as I know, you don't usually wake up in the middle of the night to lay around on the cold ground.” There was a soft twinkle in his eyes, but it couldn't hide the barely there crease between his brows, and something dipped in my chest when my shoulder brushed his and I felt a clenching sensation in my chest that wasn´t mine.

I blinked again, and the soft ache under my ribs pulsed.

“I had a dream.”

Rhys' gaze moved over my face. Then his quiet voice vibrated through me, gentle and even.

“What kind of dream?”

Something closed around my throat like an iron fist, and I stared at him, feeling a weight settle on my chest and pressure rise in my throat and eyes.

“The mountain,”, I whispered.

Rhys blinked, and I could see the muscles in his shoulder shifting, growing still.

“It used to be worse.” I tried a lopsided smile, but it felt weak, and a little uneven. “But it still comes back, once in a while.”

Rhys stared at me. Then he mumbled softly: “What do you dream of?”

Something started skipping painfully under my ribs.

“I see the faeries.” My whispered words were barely audible as my gaze dragged over Rhys' face, trying to ingrain every angle into my memory as pressure began to rise in my throat. “Caught and chained, tortured and mutilated in the revel. And I can't help them. I'm caught in the crowd, and I try to move, but no matter how much I fight, it's like I'm watching from outside my own body. And their pain breaks me apart.” My voice was weak, the images rising in front of my eyes causing the ache in my chest to grow.

“And then I see you.” My whisper broke as the pressure in my throat became unbearable, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from Rhys' face, even as my vision blurred and my lips quivered.

“And she's torturing you, and I can't move. I can't get to you. And I try to tell you, scream at you that I'll get you out, but I can't speak.” My breath trembled as the ache in my chest spread, taking over every inch of my body until my voice broke and I felt something hot run over my cheek.

“And then I wake up, and I'm alone. Seeing you, finding you, was all a dream. And I can't feel you.” I inhaled quickly, hotly, my chin trembling. “You're gone.”

Through blurry eyes, I saw Rhys stare at me, still, frozen. Then a muscle in his cheek shifted, and he rolled onto his side; his warm, calloused hand slipped up my neck to cradle the side of my face, and Rhys leaned down to press his forehead against mine.

“I'm here.” His deep, husky voice travelled through me, vibrating with sorrow yet so steady and firm, my breath shuddered.

My eyes squeezed shut as the ache in my chest rose and overwhelmed me, and I twisted, wrapping my arms around Rhys' shoulders, clinging to him as I buried my face in the crook of his neck and felt hot tears roll over my cheeks, the ache in my chest pulsing.

“Look at you,”, Rhys mumbled hoarsely, his hands sliding over my waist as he slipped his arms around me, pulling me tightly into his chest. “Really thinking it'd be that easy to get rid of me.”

A wet laugh bubbled in my chest.

“Wouldn't it?”

“No.” Rhys' mumble was steady, if only a little rough when he dropped his nose into the crook of my neck, causing a gentle shiver to travel over my spine. “You know I'm too much of a selfish bastard for that.”

I inhaled shudderingly, feeling my lips rise weakly as I whispered into his skin: “No, you're not.”

“I am.” A calloused hand slid up over my back, the arm around my waist pulling me in tighter as Rhys curled around me and buried his nose at my shoulder, his low voice vibrating through me as he mumbled steadily: “Even if my soul was dragged from this world, I would still claw my way back to you.”

Something rose in my chest, wild and violent, and my eyes opened, a curtain of tears leaving the world blurry as Rhys' quiet voice washed through me.

“No one will ever keep me from you, take me away from you again. Wherever I go, it'll only be with you.”

My heart soared before giving out, and I dug my fingers into his broad shoulders, feeling my leg slide over his waist as his tall body curved around mine.

“Sounds impractical,”, I whispered thickly, my breath hitching and causing my voice to break a little.

Rhys' lips curved against my skin.

“We'll make it work.” His quiet words vibrated through me, steady and soft. “I'll just have to follow you like I always have.”

My chest tightened harsly as warmth pulsed through me, and I whispered, soft and weak: “What if I go somewhere you can't follow?”

Rhys slid his arms closer around me, burying his nose against my skin as he mumbled back hoarsely: “There's no place in this world, or beyond, that you could go where I wouldn't follow.” I could feel him swallow, then he added softly: “I'll always find a way to you.”

My heart tightened as my breath caught in my throat, and I clung tighter to him, feeling his body shielding mine as I curled into his chest and turned my head to bury my face in his neck, squeezing my eyes shut, my body shuddering with my exhale and the weight of tears pressing on my throat.

“Why?” The whispered words were trembling, thick, spilling past my lips before I could stop them, fueled by the ache rising under my ribs. But Rhys just swallowed, his deep voice soft in a hoarse mumble.

“You know why.”

My heart twisted and rose, higher and higher. My breath caught in my throat, and my lips quivered as I hastily burrowed my face in his neck and tried to breathe against the ache pulsing under my ribs.

The breeze whispered through the trees, faeries floating over the pond as the stars twinkled in the sky. Rhys held me until my lids were heavy, tears dried on my cheeks, my heart thrumming steadily against my ribs. Then he gathered me in his arms and moved to stand.

Something rose under my ribs, and when I pulled back just a little, my arms still slung around his neck, Rhys dropped his forehead against mine, his breath fanning over my skin as he turned.

My heart swelled in a flutter, and I clung to him, his arms holding me steady as Rhys started to walk back towards the house. I curled my arms around his shoulders and squeezed my eyes shut, feeling warmth pulse through me, strong, steady, Rhys' nose brushing my cheek when he pressed his forehead against my temple, carrying me up the stairs.

☆

I woke with the gentle morning breeze brushing over my skin, the scent of daybreak dew and fresh air filling my lungs, and my body buried in a warm chest, with the heavy weight of arms slung around me tightly and a scent in my nose that, even in the haze of sleep, made something tumble under my ribs.

My breath hitched softly, and I opened my eyes. My gaze focused on sunkissed golden skin and dark twisting tattoos over strong collarbones, and a muscled arm cushioning my head.

My heart toppled, and something in my stomach dipped.

You know why.

Rhys' hoarse voice echoed through my head, and suddenly, the flutter in my chest grew until there was a soft ache pulsing under my ribs.

Feeling a weight on my throat, I turned, sliding out of Rhys' arms as carefully as possible. My heart was thrumming against my ribs when I slipped out of the room, and trying to fight against the chaotic whirlwind in my head and chest, I moved down the stairs.

Golden morning light filtered through the windows facing the front garden, painting patterns onto the carpet and the books filling the shelves. I dragged open the window doors leading out onto to the terrace, breathing in deeply as my gaze moved over the garden dipped in the first golden sunrays, fairies whizzing through the air, carrying dew drops, giggling and tittering, and my heart skipped softly against my ribs.

Filling the kettle and putting it onto the stove, I pulled a pot from the cabinet, and a cup. Then, my hands no longer busy, I slowly turned, leaning back against the counter as my fingers flew over the cold marble, up to the ends of my hair before settling for fiddling with the thin strap of my nightgown as I stared into the garden, my heart pounding in my chest.

You know why.

Something in my stomach tumbled.

I did.

I had for a while, had felt the thought looming, bright and powerful somewhere under the surface. The beginnings of a realization, a vague shape, like an unspoken thought, a distant knowledge that I refused to grasp.

Because acknowledging it, just thinking it out loud would mean something so big, so terrifying it made something squeeze in my chest.

An explanation as to why Rhys had kept coming back to me. For the way he stared at me, the twinkle in those violet eyes, for that rising feeling in my chest I couldn't place and that radiated from him, for the closeness, the touching, the blatant flirting and the things he said, casually, easily, so so sure.

It made something rise in my chest.

There was something, a reason, a realization, just under the surface. And it terrified me.

Because what if I was wrong?

What if what Rhys was supposedly feeling was just fleeting, or not at all what I made it out to be?

What if what I was seeing was what I wanted to see – and not what was really there?

Something closed tightly around my chest as the flutter in my chest rose, soared higher and higher.

It would mean a broken heart.

My breath shuddered, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

Gods, I'd been an idiot. Not realising, maybe refusing to see how my soul reacted to the male with the stars in his eyes, how my whole being seemed to respond to him.

I had fallen. Maybe slowly over the span of a century, maybe with a crash the first time I'd met him and felt him behind those walls.

Something squeezed under my ribs. It twisted before rippling away soundlessly, and a trembling breath left me as I opened my eyes and stared out into the garden, wide-eyed and utterly terrified.

I loved him.

Maybe, it had always been there, lurking under the surface, in the way my breath seemed to hitch whenever I stared at him and he smiled.

I loved him. Was in love with him. So fiercely, so deeply, so all-consuming that it made my chest thrum, caused my heart to twist and soar, until the feeling filled my body. Slowly, creepingly, it had taken up every part of my soul and my being. Had made him a part of me, his pain, his anger, his sorrow, his happiness, all mine in a way nothing had ever been before. Had made him beginning and end and everything in between.

I loved Rhys.

“Shit,”, I whispered softly.

There was a low, deep chuckle behind me; and I jumped and whirled around.

Rhys crunched his brows against the light, purple eyes tired and twinkling, his voice, rough with sleep, vibrating through me when he mumbled with a smirk: “Ouch. Not usually the way I'm greeted.”

My fingers dug into the counter as I stared at him in shock, trying to breathe, my eyes wide and my heart pounding against my ribs. There was a pillow crease on his cheek, which I hadn´t thought physically possible, his hair was tousled and muscles were shifting under his bare skin as he moved past the table and rubbed his eyes.

Suddenly, heat was washing over me, and I tried to tear my gaze away, pull myself together. But my body refused to listen, stayed frozen in the spot as I stared at him wide-eyed, my breath hitching harshly, and Rhys slowed to a stop. His gaze flickered over my face, and a soft crease formed between his brows.

“Darling?”

Maybe my shields had never been any good, and he'd been able to sneak past them all this time. Or maybe, the feelings whirling in my chest, the chaos and panic in my mind, were simply too loud, too strong, bursting through me, echoing outwards at a volume that meant he didn't even need to be in my mind to hear them.

Either way, Rhys stilled. Became frozen in the spot as he stared at me. Then his eyes shifted.

Turned swirling and bright like the galaxies in the night sky as the crease between his brows melted away into nothingness and he exhaled like he'd been waiting for a century.

“All this time.” His soft voice was hoarse as his gaze dragged over my face, slightly feverish, drinking me in. “And you still didn't see.”

My heart dropped and I could feel my lips part – then something in my chest shifted, and soundlessly, a wall crumbled.

A barrier of the mind, built around the male a few feet away, slowly collapsing into itself.

My heart caught in my throat, and my eyes darted up and widened as something in my chest rose.

I could feel everything.

Emotions so strong, they took my breath. Twined together so firmly, they were barely discernable, desperation, adoration, want, need, twisting together into something hot and rising, growing into something all consuming.

I'd always felt Rhys, but never like this; had never felt his emotions, so deep and powerful and clear that they turned my doubts and fears to stardust, the ache in my chest blowing away into the sky, until my breath shuddered and my heart settled.

I inhaled softly, feeling my lips part as the emotions that weren't my own pulsed in my chest, steady, firm, unrestrained. Then I raised my head, and Rhys swallowed, his iris a night sky as his gaze dragged over mine, deep and feverish and swallowing me whole as he mumbled hoarsely: “There it is.”

A soft, breathy giggle bubbled in my throat as I stared at him, feeling pressure building in my throat and a flutter rising in my chest, growing with every second.

My fingers shook a little as I took a hesitant step forward, followed by another, and another, my eyes darting over Rhys' face, my heart swelling. He had grown completely still, like the smallest move could scare me away, like there wasn't something pounding against my ribs and swelling in my throat, causing tears to rise into my eyes as I lifted a hand and placed my palm on his chest.

The feeling of Rhys´ warm skin sent a shiver down my skin, just like the quick, racing beat of his heart as I stared up at him, feeling my bottom lip wobble a little even as I started to smile, slow and beaming. Then I opened myself and the whirlwind under my ribs.

Rhys' eyes widened.

A shuddering breath ran through him, and his hand flew up to cover mine, fingers curling around mine, holding on almost desperately, like he was afraid I'd pull away, break the thrum of emotion flooding through me into his body. Then a soft sound broke from his chest, and Rhys moved, forward and forward until my arm was trapped between us and the whole of his body pressed against mine, his free hand sliding up to cradle my face, and my heart caught in my throat when he dropped his head to press his forehead against mine.

The flutter in my chest rose, and I quickly squeezed my eyes shut and breathed out shakingly.

Rhys made a soft, hoarse sound deep in his throat, his hand slipping down the side of my neck, fingers sliding into my hair as he pressed closer, and my heart shuddered. I could feel his body towering over mine, the way the muscles in his biceps shifted when his fingers slid closer around my hand, his warm chest pressing against mine -

Heat twinged low in my stomach, and my fingers curled against his chest.

A gentle shudder ran over Rhys' warm skin, and my breath hitched when he dipped his head to the side, his nose brushing against mine.

My heart rose into my throat, and I swallowed, my hand uncurling slowly as I slid my palm down his chest. I could feel his muscles tensing under my touch as a shiver ran over his skin, his fingers twisting into my hair, and a tingle travelled down my spine when Rhys slowly nudged his nose against mine.

Something dropped very low in my stomach, heat rising up my body.

I swallowed, my free hand rising to cling to Rhys' side, and when I pulled my head back a little, just enough to look at him, his breath grazing my skin, my heart rose.

Rhys' eyes were glazed over with a heat that made something twist in my stomach. His iris was hazy and a few shades darker under heavy lids, a muscle in his jaw shifting and throat working, and his gaze was molten where it was glued to my lips.

My breath caught in my throat.

Even when Rhys had stared for too long before, something heated in his eyes, it had always been brimming under the surface, never quite so obvious.

Now, nothing was hidden. His breath was uneven, his lips parted and throat working, and his eyes, heavy lidded and dark, were swirling, feverish, wanting -

Rhys' fingers curled into my hair, and my body shuddered, something whirling and rising under my ribs as I dug my fingers into his skin and raised my chin without having control over it, Rhys' hot breath grazing over my skin when my nose nudged against his.

A deep sound rose in Rhys' chest, his eyes shifting into something even deeper and darker, and his hand slid into my hair when he dipped his head, his nose brushing against the side of mine, tantalizingly slow. Something clenched harshly in my stomach when I felt his hot breath grazing my lips, and a tingling shiver ran down my spine when I sank back down onto my heels and Rhys followed me, calloused hands pulling me closer and head dipping to -

"Hello?", a melodious, happy voice chirped from the terrace, and my heart jumped; my eyes flew open as I lightly pushed at Rhys' chest and whirled around, and Mor walked through the open window doors.

"Anyone he-", her gaze met mine, and she slowed to a stop, one corner of her lips quirking cheekily.

"Am I interrupting?"

My heart missed a beat, and I hastily looked back over my shoulder, only to find Rhys' eyes on me like maybe, they had never left. There was a twinkle slowly spreading through his iris, and my heart rose in a flutter, because something had changed, obviously, something in that thrum against my ribs, and yet -

I narrowed my eyes in a soft glower, and Rhys slowly started to smile, lazy and brilliant.

"What are you doing here, Morrigan?" His deep voice rumbled through me even with him a foot away, his twinkling eyes never leaving my face.

Mor crunched her brows, seemingly completely unbothered as she turned in a circle with a flourish.

"Well, you hadn't even told us this place existed until yesterday, and -", she looked over her shoulder, smiling brightly, "I was curious." Her twinkling amber eyes found mine, and her smile softened, though the light in her eyes seemed to brighten. "It's beautiful."

Something rose under my chest as my gaze flickered towards the garden without me being able to help it, my breath catching in my throat. "It is."

I could feel the weight of eyes on me, a tingle travelling over the side of my face, and I blinked, clearing my throat and grinning sheepishly at Mor. "Sorry, didn't really expect anyone -"

"Obviously." Mor's lips twitched into a smirk as her eyes moved from Rhys, lounging against the counter in only pyjama pants and staring at me, towards my long nightgown, and I winced and quickly crossed my bare arms in front of my chest, feeling heat rising in my cheeks as I crunched my nose.

"You want some tea?"

"You know, actually,", Mor turned fully towards me and raised her brows, "I also came here because I thought it could be fun if I showed you the city today?" Her lips twitched, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Have some one on one time, if Rhys isn't too bothered by that." She winked at me.

"Why would I be bothered?" Rhys' eyes stayed on my face, one corner of his lips curving upwards.

"Well, you did keep her from us for more than a century, without telling us about her even once; which, by the way, is ridiculous." Mor's lips curved. "It's almost like you were afraid we'd steal her away from you or something -"

"Can we get breakfast?", I quickly interrupted, because Rhys' eyes had started to twinkle in a way that made shivers dance down my spine and something twitch in my stomach.

Mor turned her gaze away from Rhys, her knowing smirk bleeding into a genuine, beaming smile when she widened her eyes.

"Obviously! I'll show you all the good places, and more; do you have your dress yet?"

I blinked, then I turned my head towards her and crunched my brows.

"What dress?"

Mor parted her lips. Then she sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes, turning towards her cousin with an exasperated look.

"Rhys, you prat; you haven't told her?"

Rhys stared at me, his violet eyes twinkling when he said, deep voice absentminded: "Was busy."

Mor huffed, her lips quirking. "I bet you were."

Rhys just lightly rolled his eyes, and I quickly mouthed prat?, causing him to glare softly at me.

Don´t you dare.

Feeling a slow, beaming smile take over my face, I widened my eyes and mouthed prat, and Rhys huffed, his lips curving until a wide grin made his cheeks crease.

Mor cleared her throat, and I quickly tore my eyes away from Rhys' face, feeling heat bleed into my cheeks when my gaze met Morrigan's, her eyes twinkling knowingly.

"Haven't told me what?", I said quickly, bouncing on the balls of my feet lightly and fighting against the blush growing on my face.

Mor sighed, but her lips curved as she raised her brows. "Summer Solstice."

My heart rose in a flutter, and my gaze darted towards Rhys as my lips parted.

"You - you celebrate that here?"

"Well, not on a huge scale like Summer and Day,", Mor waved her hand dismissingly, "but Rhys has started throwing a party every year still, because, well -", she smirked, "any excuse for a party is a good one."

Rhys' lips curved softly as his eyes pierced mine, a twinkle in their violet depths that made my breath hitch.

"Anyway, he holds it at the River House -"

I blinked before raising my brows.

"Another house?" I felt my eyes widen slightly as my head whipped around and I stared at Mor before quickly looking back at Rhys in disbelief, but he just shrugged, his smirk feline.

"Anyway, when we started doing the celebration, we decided to hold it there because the garden is just beautiful this time of year, though,", Mor turned to look over her shoulder, her eyes almost wistful, "definitely not as beautiful as this one."

My breath hitched as my gaze followed hers, and something fluttered against my ribs.

"The longest day of the year."

Rhys' voice made my heart dip, quiet like only I was meant to hear, and I blinked before tearing my eyes away from the garden, something rising in my chest when I found his twinkling eyes on my face.

"I know." I felt my lips curve softly even as I suppressed the urge to swallow, my eyes moving over his face. "The fairies dance through it, all night long."

Rhys' gaze pierced mine, deep, twinkling, like maybe, he could see the memories of midsummer nights in a wild garden and a dress whirling around my ankles.

"Maybe they'll dance with us if you're there."

I stared at him, and my heart began to slowly flutter against my ribs, more wildly with every second as I started to smile slowly.

"Is that your way of asking if I'll come?"

Rhys stared at me, something swirling in his eyes when he mumbled, slow, deep, steady: "Will you come?"

My breath caught in my throat, and I blinked. Then I widened my eyes and whispered cheekily: "I don't think I have a dress."

Rhys' gaze heated. But before he could open his mouth, Mor chimed in, beaming happily.

"We can get you one! Today; I mean, it is in two days, but I'll take you to the best dressmaker of the city, you'll love it; and she'll have it done in time!"

I felt my lips part quickly, but before I could even make a sound, there was a soft huff; a familiar scent washed over me, and fingers slipped under my chin, closing my mouth again.

"Don't even think about it."

My heart jumped and eyes darted up, and Rhys' lips curved.

I huffed and twisted my neck to get a better look at him, feeling my brows crunch in protest, but Rhys just sent me a wink. "You know arguing is pointless. I´ll get you a dress one way or the other."

Glowering up at him even as something jumped high in my chest, I narrowed my eyes even further when he smirked and dipped his head to mumble: "Just say thank you."

His warm breath brushed over my nose, and my heart dipped.

Staring up at him, I scowled gently. Then I turned my head and sent Mor a brilliant, cheeky smile. "Thank you, Mor."

Rhys huffed, sending me a glare, and Mor smirked and winked.

"My pleasure." She raised her brows and clapped her hands. "Alright, let´s go! Though you,", her lips quirked, "might want to change first."

When I moved back down the stairs a few minutes later, dressed and tying off my braid, Mor was crouched in the middle of the garden, watching the faeries that seemed a little weary but curious when she beamed at them.

"You know she's going to put you through trying on dozens of dresses?"

My heart skipped, and my gaze darted towards where Rhys was leaning against the counter, a steaming cup of tea in his hand and one corner of his lips curving as his eyes raked over my face.

"So?" I felt my lips quirk.

Rhys' iris twinkled.

"A lot of it will be Night Court fashion." His gaze dragged slowly over my body, one corner of his lips curving into a slow, lazy smirk. "It usually means little fabric."

I stared at him as heat pooled low in my stomach, and suddenly, something started fluttering against my ribs violently.

Slowly, I began to walk backwards towards the terrace, sending him a growing, mischievous smile.

"If you want to see me scantily clad, you just have to ask."

Rhys' gaze darted up, his gaze narrowing in and growing dark and heated, and feeling my heart catch in my throat, I smiled beamingly and turned around with a breathed laugh, hopping out onto the terrace to meet Mor at the foot of the steps.

☆

Feeling a breeze brush some hair into my face, I breathed out softly, the warmth of sunlight dappled over my face making my lips curve without my doing.

"So..."

I blinked before opening my eyes and lowering my head, and Mor crunched her nose, looking at me curiously. "What's so special about Summer Solstice?"

We were sitting on the steps of a fountain, the water splashing and bubbling in our backs, a thin paper bag between us on the grey cobblestone, smelling of the buttery pastry I had bought in a shop in one of the countless alleys.

Mor had kept her promise, taking me for breakfast in a small café right at the Sidra. Then she had pulled me into the maze of alleys, streets and squares.

First, she'd taken me to the workshop of her favorite dressmaker, located in a beautiful townhouse in the Rainbow, the artist's district. It belonged to tall, slim High Fae who was clearly familiar with Morrigan, and who had, very happily, pulled all the stops when Mor had winked at her.

Mor had made me try different silhouettes, and I had wandered the aisles and aisles with fabrics, my breath catching at the colors and stitchings. We'd agreed after a while, and when we left the shop, there was a rough sketch and fabric sitting on the dressmaker's desk and my heart was beating against my throat.

Now, the afternoon sun was shining in the sky over the small park that stretched over a little hill surrounded by tall sandstone buildings, their roofs glittering in the light. Trees rose into the sky, offering shade, sunlight was dappled in swaying patterns onto the grass and cool stone of the fountain where we had decided to take a little break, and my feet were aching and my heart was full.

I needed a second to tear my eyes away from the sight of the city stretched out before the mountains. Then I blinked and crunched my brows, looking over at her.

"What do you mean?"

One corner of Mor's lips curved gently. "You just... you looked so surprised."

I felt my heart rise in a soft flutter against my ribs, and I hesitated for a second, then I turned my head and gently narrowed my eyes at her curiously.

"How long have you been... celebrating it like this?"

Mor furrowed her brows, shrugging softly as she plucked a piece off her pastry.

"Not long actually. I think Rhys decided to make it a new tradition not quite a century ago, fairly out of,", she blinked, her words slowing as her eyes suddenly began to twinkle softly, "thin air..."

I stared at her, a quick flutter beginning to build in my chest.

"What does it mean to you again?" Mor stared at me, her lips curving.

"It's..." I swallowed softly. "It's a celebration. Held by the fairies, every Summer Solstice. They gather and dance, from evening until deep into the night. All of them, sprites, pixies, nymphs, wraiths, all coming together, celebrating light and life and -" My breath hitched. "Magic."

Mor's warm eyes were glittering.

"You think he -" My voice broke off, my breath catching in my throat.

"Started celebrating it here because of you?" Mor's lips tipped upwards, and she blinked and raised an eyebrow, her eyes twinkling in the light. "That does sound awfully like him."

Feeling my heart pounding against my ribs, I stared at her, something suddenly tingling in my stomach.

Mor's smile widened a little. Then she blinked.

"You know, he never told us about you." She raised a brow, her iris sparkling. "Not once."

I huffed gently.

"I know." Shaking my head softly, I turned my head, crunching my brows gently as I blinked into the sunlight. "He told me about that, after I got mad because he turned up, winnowing in even though he was badly wounded and exhausted,", a breath left me, "idiot."

Mor giggled, and I felt my lips curve.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Mor´s gaze flicker over my face, warm and bright. Her throat worked. Then she whispered softly: "Thank you."

I blinked. Something in my chest rose and tightened as my gaze darted towards her, and Mor breathed out, her smile a little uneven when she stared back at me.

"I've known Rhys practically my whole life." She furrowed her brows gently, her eyes swimming with emotion. "He's always carried - a lot of weight on his shoulders, and it just got more when he became High Lord. He always took on everything, had to be strong, for everyone. He lets us know when things are heavy, but - he never fully lets us in." She huffed. "He doesn't want to burden us." Shaking her head gently, she hesitated before looking over at me, one corner of her lips rising gently.

"But then he started disappearing, just for a few hours, sometimes more, sometimes less. He never told us where he was going;", she raised her brows, "I always assumed he was just - taking a breather somewhere, taking some time by himself. But whenever he got back, he had that light in his eyes." Her iris started to twinkle as she stared at me.

"That was you." She blinked, her voice a little hoarse when she whispered: "You saved him. Because you saw something in him he lost the ability to see. And because when you showed him that, he believed you. Because he saw something in you too. That same thing that makes him stare at you like you put the stars into the sky." She swallowed gently, and her eyes flickered over my face. "It's like with you, he can just be."

My breath caught in my throat as I stared at her, something suddenly tight in my chest.

"He told you all of that?", I whispered.

Mor's lips quirked gently.

"Not everything. But enough." Her gaze flickered over my face. "He told us about you only after he came back from -" She broke off, her eyes welling with grief. Then she looked back up at me, her iris shimmering as she raised a corner of her lips.

"He was - a wreck, when he got here. But you - you kept him afloat. He was waiting for you. It felt like he was holding his breath. And then you turned up and..." She breathed a brilliant smile. "I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you."

My heart rose against my ribs, and Mor sniffled and beamed. "It's like he's come back to life, in a way he's never been before. Like something has - settled, fallen into place."

Something welled over in my chest, and I turned my gaze ahead, fighting to swallow against the pressure in my throat as I stared down the hill and over the roofs of the city, glittering in the sun, trees swaying gently in the breeze.

"Yeah,", I whispered.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Mor's gaze move over my face, bright and warm. Then she turned back ahead as well, and together, we stared over the city.

"It's beautiful,", I mumbled softly.

Mor´s lips curved upwards, her voice a little hoarse when she mumbled back: "It's the Court of Dreams."

☆

The sun was disappearing beyond the mountains, painting the skies pink and violet, the first stars twinkling high above when I slipped through the gate and breathed in the scent of flowers and grass and warm evening air.

Mor had dropped me off at the winding street before winnowing away, pulling me into a hug so tight, my ribs cracked, but I had just squeezed her back, feeling the scent of her perfume rising into my nose and her hair tickling my skin.

Slowly making my way around the house, I inhaled deeply, feeling warmth spread through my chest when I saw fairies whizzing through the air over the pond, giggling and chasing each other.

"You took your time."

My heart rose against my ribs, and Rhys, lounging on the steps leading up to the terrace, watched me, his violet eyes reflecting the stars blinking in the sky when he lightly raised a brow. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me, leaving me here all by myself -"

A soft snorted laugh built in my chest, and I sent him a cheeky grin. "I'm sure you were perfectly fine entertaining yourself for once."

"I wasn't. I got so bored I actually went to do some work."

Giggling softly, I gently kicked his leg before plopping down next to him, breathing in deeply. His scent rose into my lungs, and my heart missed a beat.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Rhys' twinkling iris flicker over my face. "Did Mor drag you from shop to shop until you fainted from exhaustion?"

I crunched my brows and looked over at him. "Why, do you think I look the part?"

Rhys' lips curved.

"Did you find a dress?" His gaze drank me in as a crease formed in his cheek, and I stared back, my breath catching and my heart thrumming against my ribs.

"Yeah." My voice was a little soft, a little breathless as I tried not to stare at the curve of Rhys' lips and the small dip in his cheek, his skin glowing in the sunset.

"And?" His voice trickled over me, slow, deep, matching the volume of mine as his gaze dragged over my face, heated, swirling.

I felt my lips tick up as I shrugged one shoulder gently, innocently. "What?"

Rhys stared at me, his arm brushing against my back, sending tingling shivers down my body, and slowly, one corner of his lips curved. "Where is it?"

I huffed softly. "Not yet made."

"Shame." Rhys' eyes were twinkling. "You could let me take a peak."

I widened my eyes and whispered with a bright, cheeky smile: "Where's the fun in that?"

Rhys slowly started to smile brilliantly, his eyes crinkling, and my breath caught in my throat.

For a second, we stared at each other, something trumming in my chest and twisting in my stomach, then Rhys blinked, his eyes never leaving mine as he mumbled: "I think I might have to take the couch tonight."

I could feel my brows crunch in confusion. "Why?"

A deep crease formed in Rhys' cheek, his iris twinkling as his gaze dragged over my face. "Because I'm not sure I would be able to control myself if I saw you in that flimsy nightgown again."

My heart dipped, and suddenly, something hot trickled down my spine.

"I could leave it off."

Rhys' iris hazed over, a rough sound breaking from his throat, and I hastily bit onto the inside of my cheek as a laugh bubbled in my chest, mixing with a rising, fluttering feeling.

"Beast,", Rhys mumbled, his husky voice leaving something twisting down in my stomach.

I shrugged, feeling my lips curve as I turned my gaze back towards the garden. "I mean, if you can't handle it -"

Rhys' gaze narrowed in on my face, became deep and twinkling, and something toppled in my chest as I nearly bit down onto my lip, wondering what on earth I had been thinking.

Swallowing it down, I looked over my shoulder, and Rhys stared at me, gaze molten and dark as slowly, a slight smirk made his lips curve, playful and mischievous.

"Is that a challenge, darling?"

My breath caught in my throat, and my heart swerved sharply.

I blinked, then I shrugged softly, smiling back cheekily. "I don't know, is it?"

Rhys breathed a deep chuckle and leaned forward, and I felt myself freeze when his warm breath brushed over my lips. Then he gently nudged his nose against the side of mine and mumbled, his lips almost brushing my cheek: "Careful." He pulled back just enough to stare at me, his violet iris reflecting the sky as they dragged over mine, twinkling. "I don't lose."

"First time for everything,", I whispered back breathily, feeling my heart rise into my throat, and Rhys slowly started to smile.

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @stayinglow-exploringworlds @tcris2020 @lizziesfirstwife @brandywineeeee @t0uch-starved-h0e @sharknutz @valencia-rou @twsssmlmaa @waytoomanyteenagefeels @luvmoo @starrybeesandlibraries @corvusmorte @marmorjorts @bubnix @wallacewillow0773638 @ailyr92 @azrielshadows1nger @secretlyhers @icey--stars @awritingtree @cult-of-enji-todoroki @oksloan3 @emotional-loner @azrielslefttoe @ladybirdbeetle7 @brujitafantomatico @jurdanpotter

#rhysand #rhys #rhys x reader #starshine #rhys imagine #rhys/reader #rhysand x reader #rhysand imagine #rhysand/reader #acotar #acowar #acomaf #acotar x reader #lalacliffthorne

447 notes · View notes

b00kdiary · 4 months

Text

Wildest dreams (V)

ACOTAR The Batboys x Plus size reader

Where the reader finds herself gaining the attention of the most notorious males in Prythian and it seems that even her wildest dreams couldn’t prepare her for the night they would share.

Notes: This has Rhys, Cassian and Azriel with a plus-size reader since I literally couldn’t decide who it should be and thought that the best fantasy in the world would be all three :) Here’s to all my thick, fat, plus-size girlies who want some bat-boy love too xo

Warning: mature themes (18 +) swearing, body-image issues, smut and the bat boys being utterly infatuated with their thick, beautiful lady (FINAL PART)

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

"Like what you see, Darling?"

My body shivered at the smooth purr of Rhysand's voice through my mind, caressing over me like a lover's touch, igniting my skin and blood with fire. But I couldn't reply, couldn't speak as I took in the males before me.

Who were currently shedding off their layers, one by one.

I sat on the edge of the large bed, the satin grating against my bare skin as I clenched my thighs together to stifle the ache forming between them. It was hypnotic, the three of them stood smirking and arrogant before me, the room silent as they began unbuttoning their shirts, lifting them with ease over their heads to reveal the corded muscle and ripples of strong endless skin covered with dark whorls.

My gaze didn't linger on one male for long, moving from the slender leanness of Rhysand to the hard ridged abs of Azriel and finally, the solid corded muscle of Cassian. They were ethereal, the kind of beauty that seemed unreal, and yet as they watched me, it was as if I was the most beautiful thing in the room right now.

Rhysand stalked forward on silent feet toward me, his ties loosened allowing his breeches to hang dangerously low around his hips, revealing the sharp V of his torso. I couldn't stop myself from following down the expanse of his tan chest, my eyes grazing the trail of hair that began at his navel and dipped under his breeches.

I felt the heat inch onto my cheeks, my breasts heavy and the wetness between my thighs aching with need and want. My eyes fluttered up, meeting Rhysand's star-flecked eyes and pretty tilted smile as he beheld me, still sitting on the bed, my erratic heart beating with impatience in my chest.

"How would you like us, darling?" Rhysand murmured, his voice hoarse as he dipped his head down, his hand trailing over my bottom lip and settling to cup my cheek. My mind turned blissfully blank as his lips met mine, and I didn't conceal the whimper that escaped me as his lips moved against me, his tongue delving and exploring against mine.

I thought of nothing but the feeling of him one second and then the next, images flashed through my mind.

I saw myself on top of one of these fine males, my head thrown back, my eyes closed, riding and taking every last inch of pleasure that I could get.

Then there was a flash, and I was sprawled on the bed on my hands and knees, a firm, veined grip tugging on my loose hair and sinking deep into me from behind, an unfamiliar kind of pleasure.

And then there is the final image, where I kissed down the strong expanse of muscle and skin, closer to the place where I craved to taste and explore as I was explored.

I blinked as reality came fading back in and Rhysand's violet eyes twinkled before me, amused and needy, waiting for an answer, waiting for which choice I made. That was clear- it was my choice, to be taken and treated and pleasured in whichever way I saw fit.

I wanted it all. I wanted every fantasy. All at once.

Rhysand's brow rose, a glimmer of surprise shining on his face but then he smirked, turning feral as he heard my proclamation, and saw exactly what I had decided.

'Beautiful, wicked little thing," Rhys purred, and my body prickled as Cassian and Azriel came over, blocking out any light from the moonshine, just as they had all those hours ago at Rita's. My wide eyes looked between them all, and I knew I was out of my depth, lost in how I could even begin to explore my own desires.

Cassian smiled, the face that could harden with violence and death now looked as sweet as honey and sugar, and my body melted with a sigh as he sat beside me and with the gentlest of hands, ran his rough fingers over my soft body and lifted me onto his lap, as if I weighed nothing.

I gasped against his chest, my eyes fluttering as my core rubbed against his breeches as I settled each thigh to straddle him. I bit my lip as Cassian's hands settled on my bare thighs, his hardness digging into me and I moaned into the kiss he gave me, moving down with him as he laid on his back.

"Is this alright, angel?" He questioned softly, looking up at me from the bed and my body pulsed and roared at the feeling of him under me, taking every last bit of my weight and not even noticing. I dragged my soaked, exposed core down his breeches and the groan that escaped him made me weak.

I smiled coyly as my fingers moved down, brushing across Cassian's torso and I felt his breathing hitch as I unlaced his breeches, slowly pushing them down and my heart stilled as his hard erection broke free, slapping back against his stomach.

"Shit," I muttered and the quiet laughter of the three males around me made me blush, my head ducking low in embarrassment, though the size of Cassian made my heart hammer- the idea of him trying to fit that inside me.

"Don't be scared, sweetheart," Azriel murmured, sitting on the bed beside us, his hand coming to tuck my hair behind my ears so I could see his warm eyes. "This is all at your pace, we're following you."

I gnaw on my lip and with the gentlest touch, I reach forward, gripping Cassian's length in my hand and shivering at the feel of it in my palm, at the weight and size and hardness.

"Fuck," Cassian grunted, and I grew braver, my eyes transfixed upon him as I palmed his length, my hands so small in comparison to him, enjoying every breathless moan that escaped the General beneath me.

"Cassian, may I-?" My cheeks grew hot as I looked down, the question shining in my eyes, but my tongue tied and embarrassed to say the words. He grinned, feral delight on his face, and shifted onto his elbows, pulling me into a deep kiss and lifting my hips to help me.

The first brush of Cassian's length against me made me whimper, and I didn't realise how desperate and ready I was until I lined him up to my entrance and sunk down, deliberately, and slowly. My mouth opened in a soundless 'o' as Cassian stretched me, his body rippling under my palms at the feeling of us joined.

"Cauldron," I cursed, my head dropping to Cassian's chest as he fully seated himself inside me, and the burn was so strong and yet it felt so good.

"Shit, you're squeezing me so tight," Cassian gasped, his warm minty breath brushing my cheek and I fluttered my eyes open as his hand came to my cheek, lifting my head to meet his eyes, "Are you all right, angel?"

"Yes, yes," I whispered, and my body grew unbearably hot by the attention on me, Cassian under me, Azriel at my side, Rhysand behind me- just watching. I shifted my hips and Cassian, and I moaned in unison at the movement.

I placed my hands on Cassian's chest and with a deep inhale and exhale, I rose myself up to the tip of him, before slowly sinking back down, deeper than before. He swore, and my lips messily met his as he glided his hands down the rolls at my back, his hands curving around my ass, moving me in against him.

I rocked back and forth, again and again, and beside me, Azriel growled roughly, his scarred hand tracing up my body to cup and fondle my sore breasts and his hazel eyes burned as he suckled and bit across my jaw and neck.

Cassian's eyes pinched shut, and I knew he was holding himself back, restraining himself for my sake and I adored him for it.

"Rhys," I pleaded his name, glancing over my shoulder to where he stood watching, the violet in his eyes deepening to a midnight sky, transfixed as he watched Cassian's length disappear inside me, my ass rippling gently with every move.

"Are you sure, darling?" He asked quietly as he stepped forward, his ring-clad hand running down my back and resting on my ass, his touch so bare. I nodded at him desperately, knowing he could hear and feel the desire running through me.

Cassian paused under me, his length stopping inside me, giving me the time, I needed as Rhys prepped himself. I heard the sound of a vial opening and my heart raced with anticipation as the smell of lavender filled my senses.

I tensed at the feeling of Rhysand's fingers behind me, slippery with oil as he traced uncharted territory.

"I need you to relax, darling, otherwise this will hurt," Rhys said softly, and I swallowed down the dryness in my throat, letting his calm tone sooth me. I leaned forward, grabbing Azriel's hands for support- and as he began kissing against my cheek and Cassian rolled my nipples between his fingers, I melted into the distraction.

"That's it," Rhys praised, and I gasped as his finger dipped into me, ever so slowly, stretching me out. The feeling was unfamiliar and just barely uncomfortable but as he continued, going deeper and faster, it soon eased enough that when he slipped in a second finger, I whimpered loudly.

"You're doing so well," Azriel smiled against my jaw, and the arousal that spiked through me made my head spin, Rhysand's fingers crooked inside me, knowing exactly what spot to hit. "Taking it so well."

"Rhys," My voice broke, utterly ruined, and I arched my back enough that Cassian's eyes rolled, his hard length still seated patiently inside me, my walls clenching and unclenching. "Please, I need you."

A deep, rumbling growl emitted from Rhys and I felt empty the second his fingers slipped out from me, leaving me bare and aching for that feeling again. But as that vial clinked open again, and as Rhysand pulled down his breeches, I knew I didn't need to wait long.

I arched my back as Rhys came to stand behind me, his fingers sprawled over my ass spreading me wide and as his hard, slippery cock brushed against me, I braced myself. I inhaled and exhaled slowly, and as he guided his hips forward, I found myself burying my head into Azriel's chest.

No touch or kiss was enough to distract me from this intrusion.

"Oh-oh," I scratched my nails down Cassian's stomach, my fingers moving over every ridge and muscle for leverage as Rhys sunk into me, inch by inch, the feeling so fucking full I didn't know how much more I could take. "Don't- shit- please, don't stop."

"Cauldron, Y/N," Rhys panted, and the sound made my skin ignite with fire- the sound of my name, pleading and breathless on my High Lord's lips, was one of the best things I'd ever heard. "You're going to fucking kill me clenching around me like this, darling."

The ache of them both inside me soon settled and it wasn't long before I was shifting my core, the feeling of them both within me making me gasp and the pleasure bubbling under the surface.

"Please, please," I gasped when Cassian and Rhys both rolled their hips, moving in tandem inside me.

"Tell them what you want, sweetheart," Azriel murmured against my cheek, kissing teasingly along my jaw, "Tell them how badly you need it."

"So bad, so, so, so fucking bad-" I whimpered, my body shaking now, "Please, Rhys, Cass- Please move."

They didn't need to be told twice.

I bit my cheek hard enough to taste metal as they both drew out from me and then rocked back in, their paces agonisingly slow and with them stretching both holes, hitting two spots far and deep in me, I couldn't catch my breath.

"There you go, Angel, there you fucking go," Cassian grumbled under me, his eyes wild as he watched me, tits bouncing and his hands digging into the flesh of my hips as he fucked his hips up into me, his pace getting faster.

I gasped, Rhysand’s hands curving around my waist and tugging against my breasts, his harsh breath at my ear, every push of his hips, hard and fast behind me, making me jolt and shake.

“Fuck, Gods above-“ My stomach clenched at the fire fanning in me, and all I could do was hold on as they stroked into me, the lewd sounds filling the room, our moans, and curses in tandem as they ruined me.

“Az,” I mewled, my heavy eyes turning to the Shadowsinger beside me, contently watching and enjoying the sight of me being fucked stupid by his brothers, and I draw him into a messy, bruising kiss.

He grumbled into the kiss, and I felt his scarred hands lift and wrap around my throat, the pressure on each side making my head spin and the breath catch in my lungs. His tongue moves against mine with so much indulgence and my eyes blanketed over with shadows and stars.

I sank against Azriel, my hands running over his hard and chiselled chest, scratching, and clawing as I move down his stomach and the sound that rips from him when I draw his cock, hard and slippery with pre-cum, free from his breeches, is a sound I’ll remember for years to come.

‘Your body is perfection, darling,” Rhys hummed through my mind and even through our mental connection, I could feel his arousal, his pleasure as his rings dug into me, his hips shifting and something new and intoxicating consuming me.

I stroke Azriel furiously, curses and moans falling from his lips endlessly and it melodies into the air with the sounds of our bodies moving in the room, and Rhys and Cass seem to feed off of every whimper and cry that comes from me, fucking me harder, as if imprinting themselves inside me.

“I can’t- too much-“ I cry out, too many hands, too many sensations all driving that cord within me tauter and tauter until that feeling is close enough to break.

“That’s it, Angel, so close now,” Cassian coaxes, and my body has no strength left, all I can do is plant my hands on his chest and let him fuck up into me, Rhys guiding me forward and the angle shifts, shifts so that their brushing parts of me I never even knew existed.

“Oh- oh-shit-“ I hadn’t ever experienced pleasure like this, had never been stretched and fucked and touched so thoroughly.

“Let go, sweetheart,” Azriel grits his teeth, his body trembling as my hand moves up and down, again and again, up his veined, red cock and when a hand brushes between my thighs, rubbing messily against my puffy, aching clit, it’s all too much. “Come all over my brother’s cocks now-“

There’s a spark and I’m powerless as it explodes, fanning and roaring as it burns into a full-blown fire, and it shatters every single part of me.

My back arches and my mind goes blank as every nerve in my body ignites, that pool within me draining and draining and draining until there’s nothing left, until I can’t keep up. Azriel holds me, whispering sweet nothing in my ears and my release lasts so long, edged further as Rhys and Cass chase their own highs.

"Fuck, fuck-" Cassian swore, and I felt his hips start to falter, feeling me clenching around him like a vice. It didn't take long for him to start to shake, the muscles at his stomach clenching and hardening and as his eyes clamped shut, he bucked up, swearing as he found his release within me.

The roar he released shook the bed, shook the ground and I felt his warm seed leak out of me, filling me up as his pace slowed, twitching as he came to a breathless halt.

“Rhys,” I begged, for what I didn’t know, but the pressure of him behind me was making me dizzy, that intensity too much and when I leaned back, cementing my back to Rhysand’s chest, he hissed, his arm wrapping around my body to keep me close.

My head lolled back against his chest, unable to hold myself any longer and yet, despite that fog that covered me, my hand still drew to Azriel, still wrapped around his cock, still stroked, and fisted and rubbed him, knowing he was so close.

“Rhys,” I cried his name, and the broken sound that strangled from me when his hand slipped between my thighs and rubbed at my clit, made Azriel shudder, his control wavering. “Rhys, please- can’t- it’s too much-“

“One more, darling,” He whispered against my neck, nibbling, and sucking and biting against the skin as his cock drove into me from behind, skin slapping skin and so brutal that it hurt so good until tears leaked down my face and my hand clenched around Az like a vice.

“Sweetheart, shit-“ Azriel’s voice slipped into something wholly dark, and my eyes fluttered, desperate to watch him as his entire body went hard, his hazel eyes rolling and the filthiest, lowest moan emitting from his lips as his hips jolted- and pearly white cum leaked and leaked and leaked all over my thigh and hand.

“Ruining my brother’s so good, huh?” Rhysand ran his canines over the sweet spot at my neck, hips starting to falter as I squeezed his cock painfully tight, his fingers at my clit slippery with my arousal and Cassian’s release. “Just give your High Lord one more, just one more.”

It’s like his word became a command and my body had no choice but to obey, but to submit and something dark and devastating cracked through me, an orgasm that hit me so hard and fast I couldn’t breathe.

Rhysand’s name was a prayer on my lips, a chant I said again and again, crying tears, and shaking as release razed through me. He bit down on the junction of my throat, canines puncturing flesh and white dots filled my vision as his cock jolted, and he came with a deafening groan.

Rhysand’s body and mine melted together, exhausted, breathless, and sweating and I didn’t have the strength to open my eyes much less keep my body straight, and I was glad for the numerous hands that held me up.

The room was spinning, and I winced as soreness overtook my whole body, bright and furious as I was lifted, Cassian and Rhys both slipping out from me so softly before guiding me down to the bed and pillows as if I were as breakable as porcelain.

I sighed at the feeling of the cloud-like softness under me, my heavy eyes fluttering open, and I gasped softly at the sight of all three males above me, smiling down at me with adoration on their lovely faces.

My face and body heated at the attention, and I released a heavy exhale as I shifted onto my elbow, trying to lift myself to sit- trying and failing.

“Lay down, sweetheart,” Azriel coaxed, his hands guiding me back down and brushing the damp strands of hair from my face, his touch so tender.

I flinched, a pained whimper coming from me at the feeling of something wet brushing my core, and when I looked down, Rhysand shot me an apologetic smile, a wet cloth between his nimble fingers.

“Rhys, I can do that-“

His eyes shot to me, the violet flashing brightly and the command in them, the authority, was enough for me to sigh, rolling my eyes as I dropped my head back to the fluffy pillow. I gnawed on my lip, my face twisting as Rhysand cleaned the mess dripping down my thighs and over my core, his touch so unbelievably gentle as he cleaned me.

Cassian grinned at me, praise shining in his eyes as he ran his calloused, large hands up and down my thighs, soothing every small wince that escaped me or jagged inhale of breath.

I sighed in relief when Rhysand rose from between my parted thighs, the cloth magicked away from his hand and the ache in my core slowly dwindling. My eyes flickered between the three of them, suddenly feeling far too exposed, lying here utterly naked before them.

Stupid really, considering all the very inappropriate things we had just done.

Rhys snorted a loud sound that echoed through the silent room and my face burned at the knowing smile he gave me, hearing my silly thoughts and adoring the shyness that had come back with a vengeance in me again.

“How are you feeling, darling?” Rhys asked quietly, his strong gaze trailing over every inch of me, concerned, as he took in my still trembling and sore form.

“I’m okay,” I whispered back, barely enough energy in me to speak, “Just tired, but a good tired.”

“Then it seems we did our job,” Cassian smirked, and I giggled when he slipped into the spot beside me, his large frame nestling into me as he laid down, his wings draped back and going slack as he sighed into my neck. “Sleep, angel, you need it.”

“Are-are you sure?” I muttered, gnawing on the inside of my cheek nervously, looking from Rhys and Cassian and then to Azriel, who raised their brows at me “I can leave-“

“You’re not going anywhere,” Azriel shook his head, his lips curling into a frown as he took up the spot beside me, and like Cassian, his body melted against mine, the two of them pressed against my body contently.

I giggled at the smirk Rhys threw me, the sound getting louder as Cassian and Azriel kissed against my cheek and neck, sweet, tender kisses that tickled and throbbed and felt so good.

My thighs parted as Rhysand came between them, his body relaxing as I ran my hands over his tense shoulders, running my fingers along the whorls tattooed there as he settled his body between my thighs, his head dropping to my stomach and resting there.

He groaned, a purely blissful sound, his face sinking against the flesh of my stomach, and I laughed at him, the way his eyes began to flutter as if I were the best pillow he’d ever had.

Cassian draped the biggest duvet I’d ever seen over the three of us, and I smiled as they cocooned against me, nestling into me for comfort and warmth and holding my body like it was theirs. I ran my fingers through Rhysand’s hair, his fingers digging into my thighs, keeping them hooked to his waist.

“Who would’ve thought,” I mutter, hearing their amused laughs brush against my skin, “You big bad Illyrian males like cuddling after sex.”

“Only with you, darling.”

--------

@satellitesunshine @queenofangrymoths @highlady-ofillyria @ladespedidas @magical-mischief-makers @lyracarvahall @ummmmmwat @eerievixen @bitchyinternetinfluencer @meritxellao @rachelnicolee @fanfictioniseverything @queen-of-arda @magdalenka @bunnymallowo @azzydaddy @fanboyluvr @maddithefangirl @jeannineee @fakelust @whatthefuckshappeningrn @honeycriess @cheneyq @brujitafantomatico

#acotar #sjmaas #sarah j maas #rhysand #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #cassian acotar #smut #azriel x reader #cassian x reader #rhysand x reader #acotar smut #plus size reader #rhys x reader #bat boys x reader #rhysand smut #cassian smut #azriel smut

426 notes · View notes

acourtofswiftiesandshadowdaddies · 3 months

Text

Black roses

Helion x reader, Azriel x ex!reader, Rhysand x sister!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, elain slander (i love elain but the plot asked for it)

Summary: In which you are finally introduced to the inner circle again, this time as High Lady of Day Court.

a/n i wrote this with an eyelash stuck in my eye so spare me 😭 🙏

I was getting ready to go to the Night Court. My outfits usually were a signature midnight black but after staying at Day Court for so long, I had learned to love the soft yellows and the striking golds. Hell I had decided to wear a golden dress as a homage to the Day Court.

It was a beautiful corset top dress, that flowed down like a waterfall. The slit was just an added benefit.

“You look absolutely breathtaking,” A voice came from behind me.

Giggling, I turned around left a peck on Helion’s lips, but apparently that wasn’t enough, as he pulled me in for a deeper kiss.

His hands gently held my head, while my hands left his hair and raked over his bare chest.

“Helion, we can’t do this now” I say breathless as I pull apart. Hands at my waist held me tightly against his body.

“And put a shirt on” I finally escape his grasp and head over to fix up my face.

Helion winnows us away after we’re ready. Standing outside Rhysand’s court, we’re about to head in when Helion pulls me flush against his chest.

“I love you, and I’m so proud of you, if you feel uncomfortable the just squeeze my hand three times and we’ll leave,”

I kiss his lips and whisper a small “Thank you,” against them.

Just as we’re about to pull away, Rhysand shows up.

“Sister, Helion, if you’re ready?” he smiles, Rhys was the first person to know about us and currently is one of the few outside of Day who knew.

My cheeks flush at Helion’s smirk and push myself off him, “Yes we are,”

Walking in, I can feel their eyes on me. Shit this was scarier than expected.

Helion places a reassuring hand against my back. I give a soft smile to everyone.

Everyone except them. Elain and Azriel. I don’t even look at them, stopping at Cassian.

The men discuss about matters if court and alliances. While Feyre, Nesta and I catch up.

We were deep in a conversation about how we should visit each other often, when Elain decided to open her mouth.

“So what did you do to get a High Lord’s attention surely you’re not that good in bed” she sneers.

My blood freezes. Helion goes to open his mouth but I give him a look and speak through our bond. “I can handle this”.

“I know you can but if you need me I’m right here” he assures.

Simply nodding, I continue my conversation with Nesta about the newest book. Feyre had gone to fetch Nyx. Apparently he had missed me and wouldn’t talk to anyone except glare at Elain.

“I knew it, you’re such a slut,” she says loudly.

This time all chatter freezes, and the loud bang of the door indicates that Feyre is here. With Nyx.

For the sake of the little boy, I ignore her again. Reaching out to carry him. He cracks a smile and babbles while grabbing my hair softly. Giggling at his attempt to tell me a story, I sit down with him in my lap.

Unbeknownst to the longing stares from Azriel, the hateful glares from Elain and the look of adoration on Helion’s face.

Soon enough he tires out and falls asleep.

“She obviously used her mind control powers or whatever to get him to calm down,” Elain scoffs.

I go to finally respond when two loud voices bellow across the room.

“Shut the fuck up,” Rhysand and Helion’s voices were powerful enough alone. Together they could bring someone to their knees.

“That’s my sister, you’re talking about,”

Elain’s eyes widen at the confrontation from Rhysand.

“She is the High Lady of Day Court and you will treat her as such,” Helion commanded.

“You know I told Rhysand to give you a chance at some sort of redemption but you truly are self conceited,” this time it was Feyre’s voice.

My head snaps upward. “Whatever, all Day Court people are the same,”.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I question. My voice is deathly low and sharp enough to cut her.

“It’s just that Day Court men are just pretty things to look at and the women are just objects to be used,” she explains.

I hand Nyx to Feyre.

“You can speak ill about me all you want but bringing my people and the women from my court who work harder than you have ever worked in your entire life was a mistake,” I warn.

“You have been handed your life on a silver platter, forced your sisters to give you everything they deserve. Did you know Nesta was so worried about you when you were Made that she couldn’t eat or sleep,”

“No you didn’t because you’re just a self conceited, backstabbing bitch who would be nowhere without us. So go ahead insult me but just know that I can have you thrown in deepest cell in Hewn City and trust me someone like you wouldn’t survive a minute in there.” With every single word I took a step closer towards her.

Seeing her say nothing, I walk off towards Helion.

“Go run home with your bitch of a man then,” she calls out from behind me.

Turning around I punch her nose in one swift motion.

She falls to the floor and Nyx decides to wake up and he starts clapping and laughing. Smiling, I head towards him and pick him up and give him a little kiss on the cheek.

I walk towards where Rhysand, Helion, Cassian and Azriel were standing.

“I’m really sorry Y/N-” Azriel starts.

I kick him in between the legs, “That’s for marrying another girl while being my fiancée,”.

He doubles over in pain and I take that as an opportunity to punch his face, “And that’s for giving her my wedding dress”

“You are free to visit us in Day Court whenever you want,” I say just as Helion winnows us back.

He presses me against the bedroom door, “That was so hot,”.

“Really? Why don’t you show me how much you liked it then?”

a/n so um the argument might be bad but in my defence i’m not the type to involve myself in conflict like fight or flight best believe i’m flighting

lemme know if you want a lil epilogue for helion and reader

“glory is fine revenge is more fun” IF YOU KNOW WHERE THIS JS FROM ILY MARRY ME 💍

taglist: @esposadomd@impossibelle@acotarfics-mharmie009@stqrgirlies-blog@balam-sen@cumuluscranium@witchymomfrien@historygeekqueen@wallacewillow0773638@wickedfelinaxo@mybestfriendmademe@to-be-written@highladyofterrasen98@minnieoo

231 notes · View notes

azrielhours · 1 year

Text

Falling for You

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 2.3k

Synopsis: Reader is v clumsy, Az is constantly bandaging her and looking after her when she hurts herself. She accidentally burns her hand making him a pie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Aw, angel,” Azriel cooed. He had your forearm grasped gently between his two hands as he frowned at your latest bruise. “How’d you get this one?”

You blushed under his careful inspection, though this was hardly a rare occurrence. “I tripped near the top of the stairs.”

He smiled, still examining your arm. “My poor darling,” he tutted. You laughed at the fussing but blushed harder as he bent down to place a soft kiss on your hurt skin.

Azriel was the sweetest mate in the world, always showing such patience and concern for you despite your clumsy nature. Scratches and bruises would litter your skin and heal like the coming and going of the seasons, yet he seemed to always catch onto every newcomer with his keen eye. “Does it still hurt?”

Your eyes met his. “Not really.”

“I’m glad.” He still smiled, and you returned it as he took your hand, leading you to the door.

The first time you’d met him, you lost your footing and scraped your knee. Azriel never lets you live it down, always talking about how you’d ‘fallen for him at first sight.’ You scoff and roll your eyes every time he brings it up, but deep down the story makes your heart swell with love.

You let your mind wander as Azriel bunched you up in his arms and began flying to the House where Nesta and Cassian were hosting a family dinner. You’d always argued that being mated to him was a fluke; you loved him with all your heart but sometimes wondered how you’d scored a mate with the fluidity and stealth of a feline while you stumbled your way through life. If you ever mentioned this in front of Feyre, she just shakes her head and says you bring out the softness in Az.

Azriel descended upon reaching the house, setting you down with the gentleness he always beheld for you. “Y/N?”

You craned your neck to face him. “Hm?”

“I asked if you were alright.”

You blinked. “Oh, sorry. Yes, why?”

“You just seem a little distracted.”

“Oh. I guess I zoned out a bit on the flight.” You offered a reassuring smile.

He studied you for another beat. “Okay. We can leave whenever you want. You know that, right baby?”

You squeezed his hand affectionately. “Yes, Az. I know.”

“I’m just saying. If you don’t feel so good—”

You shook your head. “I’m good, I want to see our friends.” You tugged him down by the hand and he obliged. You wrapped your arms around his neck and placed a kiss on his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too, angel.”

You shivered, unwinding yourself from him lest you prematurely take him up on that offer. “There you two are,” a voice redirected your attention to the entrance where Cassian came to greet you. He enveloped you in a hug. When he pulled back, he eyed your bruise, making you blush.

“Cassian, stop hurting my mate,” Azriel interjected playfully.

“Ah, yes. My bad,” Cassian immediately jested back.

“See, you already bruised her,” Azriel added. You laughed at their teasing.

“She’s just so fragile, I can’t help it,” Cassian shrugged his shoulders in exaggeration.

“Shut up,” you laughed.

Cassian nudged you with his shoulder. “Let’s go inside before you trip off the balcony.” You rolled your eyes as Azriel chuckled.

Inside, you took your places at the table. You didn’t miss the way Azriel covered the table corner with his hand as you passed by it, a habit he always minded.

As the meal ended, the group moved to the lounge. You languidly watched your friends interact. Feyre brought out her latest painting per Cassian’s request, gesturing with effortless elegance as she explained the inspiration behind it. You caught Rhys watching her, beaming with pride, likely at the charisma she exuded even in her relaxed state. You sat a little straighter.

Nesta mentioned she started going to a dance studio. “The teacher allowed me to advance to a higher level last week.”

“Because of her curves,” Cassian smirked.

“Because of my lines,” Nesta corrected, smacking her mate.

“Lines?” you asked.

“A dancer’s physical silhouette,” Nesta explained.

“That’s what I just said,” Cassian quipped.

Nesta ignored him. “Well-controlled poses make better lines.”

“What are you controlling for?” you asked.

Nesta waved a hand. “It’s supposed to be grace and rhythm.”

You hummed thoughtfully. The conversations moved on, but you fell silent, distracted by a distinct sense of mismatch gnawing at your gut. You felt noticeably at odds with the sophistication of your family surrounding you; warriors, courtiers, lords, and ladies.

Lost in thought, you gasped lightly at the sudden sensation in your chest. Admiration and comfort fluttered down the bond, making you relax your shoulders. You looked over to where Azriel sat and found him watching you intently. You hadn’t realized you’d been projecting your emotions to him. Before you could reassure him, Azriel stood up. “We’re calling it a night,” he announced to the group. “Thank you all for the dinner.” He took your hand to help you to your feet.

Others began rising in agreement, prompting a flurry of hugs and kisses to erupt. Azriel waited for you to finish; he was patient until he wasn’t. You laughed as he unceremoniously tugged you out of an embrace, throwing parting words over your shoulder while your friends laughed at Az stealing you away. Outside, he turned to face you, smiling warmly. You looked at him from beneath lowered lashes.

“Hi, angel.”

“Hi, Az.”

“How are we feeling.” He spoke softly.

“I’m good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said. You both knew he knew better, but he was sparing you. You fidgeted with your fingers under his inspecting gaze. “Sorry to have, um, pulled you out of the gathering.”

“Don’t be sorry. I told you we could leave if you weren’t feeling well,” he reassured. You looked up at him and found that endless patience of his. He placed his hands on your waist and pulled you gently to his body, which you happily folded yourself into. “Let’s go home,” he murmured into your crown. You hummed in agreement, thankful for the reprieve granted by your perceptive mate.

You found yourself in the kitchen after changing. Azriel wanted to go over some reports for the next day, though you suspected it was to give you some time to sort through your thoughts. You and Azriel always respected each others’ space to open up at your own pace.

You had an idea, wanting to make Azriel something to show your appreciation for him, to dote on him how he always doted on you. It was silly perhaps, but you combined ingredients to make a blueberry pie (for his siphons, of course). It was late into the night, but you had your mind made. You hummed as you worked, feeling a bit better. This is what a refined spouse would do for her mate, wasn’t it?

You finally placed the skillet into the oven and began cleaning up, intending to surprise Azriel. You did the dishes as the pie baked, feeling your tiredness catch up to you, wondering if Az already went to sleep. You hurried at that thought, turning to check on the pie. As you rushed over, you opened the oven to take a look—gasping as you lost your footing suddenly.

You were instantly falling as your foot slid on something. You grabbed onto the nearest surface to steady yourself—recoiling on reflex before you could register what happened. You slammed into the nearby cabinet as you hit the floor. The leg that lost its balance was splayed beneath the open oven door. You cursed as glaring pain scorched through your hand—the hand that recoiled because—

Because you’d grabbed onto the inside of the oven door in your fall, burning your hand.

“Fuck,” you whimpered in pain, cradling your arm to your chest. Azriel would surely be here soon due to the sound. You closed the oven door quickly to keep him from seeing, knowing he had a history of this injury.

You checked under your foot, finding a sizeable chunk of butter there, the culprit that caused the slipping and sliding. You exhaled raggedly as tears stung your eyes, in pain or defeat, you didn’t know. Sure enough, Azriel came into the kitchen, rushing over immediately.

“Y/N, what happened? Are you alright?” He crouched near you, frowning at your hurt state.

You sniffled. “I just fell.” You hid your burnt hand behind you

“Aw, angel,” he spoke softly, cupping your face and wiping your tears as they fell. “Come here,” he said, offering you his hands to get you off the floor. You couldn’t take them because of your burn, so you paused. He noticed this, eyes shifting to your arm hidden behind your back.

“Can I see?” he asked gently. You shook your head. He frowned, but his shadows wafted to his head, whispering in his ear. His eyes widened suddenly, and you felt panic spike and then cease down the bond. “You burnt your hand,” he breathed.

You nodded apprehensively. He gently placed his hand on your elbow to pull your hidden arm forward, which you allowed. He cradled your arm at your elbow and wrist. You opened your hand to let him see. There were red splotches on your fingers where you’d grabbed the door. Azriel winced. “Let’s get this bandaged,” he said.

He scooped you into his arms and carried you over to the table. He filled a bowl with cool water and placed your hand into it, letting it absorb the heat out of the burn, greatly reducing your pain. He wiped your tears and kissed your forehead. He gently pulled your hand out of the water and began bandaging it with expert care, standing between your legs as he worked.

When he finished, he kissed the back of your hand and placed it gently into your lap. “Does that feel a little better?”

You nodded.

“Wanna tell me how you got that burn?”

You swallowed. “I was baking a pie for you.”

His eyes widened slightly, lips quirking upwards. “For me? Why?”

“I wanted to do something nice for you because you always take such good care of me,” you said, waving your newly bandaged hand in demonstration.

Adoration washed over his face. He huffed a laugh, caught off guard. “Thank you, angel.” He enveloped you in an embrace, burying his head into your neck. You breathed him in. “You don’t have to repay me for any of this,” he spoke lowly into your ear. He pulled away, still taking you in with that reverence. “This isn’t burdensome,” he added.

You shrugged, still frustrated with yourself. “I’m sorry for always making you bandage me up and everything,” you said, feeling your emotions rise again.

Azriel shook his head. “Don’t apologize. I love getting to take care of you.”

You looked down as your tears returned.

“Why are you crying, baby?” Azriel lifted your chin up, frowning.

You took a deep breath. “Because. I’m sick of this.”

“Sick of what?”

“It’s just—it’s embarrassing, the clumsiness. You’re all so graceful without even having to try. You deserve a mate who isn’t such a fumbling mess.”

Realization dawned on him. “Ah,” he said. “Is that why you were feeling off at the dinner today?”

You nodded. “I know it’s dumb, but just—you know, the other girls, they’re so smooth and classy.”

Az strokes the sides of your thighs soothingly. “It’s not dumb. It’s okay to have concerns. And you’re wrong, you’re not a fumbling mess. I couldn’t ask for a more perfect mate.”

You felt his unrestricted love flow through the bond, soothing you enough to stop crying. But you continued. “I just feel like a sore thumb sometimes.”

He shook his head. “Everyone adores you. They can’t get enough of you. I thought that was obvious,” he smiled.

You believed him, feeling his sincerity in your chest. You returned his smile.

“Is that what this is? You just want to hear me tell you how much they like you?” Azriel teased.

You laughed, making Azriel smile wider.

“I understand this can be frustrating, but please don’t ever feel like it’s an issue. I love you the way you are, even if you’re constantly falling for me.”

You rolled your eyes, still laughing. His gaze sobered a bit. “You don’t need to be any more or less graceful. I’ve adored you from the start, I won’t stop now. I love getting to dote on you. Don’t you like getting doted on?”

You smiled. “Yes Az, I like it.”

“I knew it. You’re faking the clumsiness.”

You laughed again, brighter this time. He laughed too, wrapping his arms around you. He kissed you deeply, pulling you closer to him. You kissed him back, feeling your worries melt away. You let all your love flow through the bond as he kissed you, making him shudder at the feeling. He leaned forward, prompting you to bend back, but you remembered something. You tried to break away from the kiss, but he’d hardly let up.

“Az,” you smiled against his mouth.

“Yeah,” he breathed, making no attempt to stop.

“Az, the pie.”

“Fuck the pie,” he said.

You laughed, pushing him lightly on the shoulders, which he regretfully granted. He took a deep, steadying breath. When you tried to move around him, he pushed you back in place and went to retrieve it himself. He placed it on the counter and made his way back to you.

“This was very thoughtful of you,” he said huskily, looking at you with a hunger for something other than the pastry. He bent forward and laced an arm beneath your knees; you squealed as he suddenly stood, hauling you over his shoulder. He gave your ass a smack as he began taking you to the bedroom. “I was also thinking of showing my appreciation by having something sweet.”

taglist:

@iimisty-a @feyretopia @cityofidek @cullenswife @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrad-blog @answer-the-sirens @mrstangerinejohnson @marigold-morelli @courtofjurdan @azriels-mate123 @punishers-girl (so sorry if I missed any or if these don’t work. Pls lmk if you’d like to be added)

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel fanfiction #azriel angst #azrielhours

781 notes · View notes

rosanna-writer · 4 months

Text

Love at First Sight's for Suckers (1/5)

Summary: [A Feysand Newsies AU] Rhysand had a reputation. A big reputation. But fortunately for Feyre, a newsie selling papers on the streets of Velaris, tabloid gossip about the handsome, charismatic, hard-partying war-hero of a High Lord's heir means business is booming. That is, until the city's newspaper magnates get greedy, Feyre finds herself an unwitting labor leader at the center of a strike, and Rhys becomes an unexpected ally... Warnings: None

A gift for @the-lonelybarricade, for @acotargiftexchange! @lbs-secret-santa is me!

LB, creating this for you has been such a blast, and I am definitely the luckiest secret santa in the world to have such a gem of a giftee. It's rare for someone to have both a talent AND a heart as big as yours—you're truly the High Lady of Feysand, not just because your fics are incredible, but because of the way you make new writers (including me earlier this year) feel immediately welcome and how you handle fandom nonsense with such grace and tact. I'm so glad to call you a friend <3

And sorry for an author's note that reads like an annoying award show speech, but there are SO MANY people I want to thank. The event organizers did such a thoughtful job creating an event that brought so many people together across the fandom; not just secret santa/giftee pairs, but people reaching out to new betas, roping new friends into secrecy shenanigans, and getting hyped about other gifts! @iambutmortal, @thesistersarcheron, @itsthedoodle, @wilde-knight, and @ablogofsapphicpanic have been the best betas/saucy Rhys pun brainstormers/secret keepers/DM screaming session partners, and the daily headlines would not have happened without their beautiful brains. I had SO MUCH FUN watching the excitement and creative energy grow and grow in the lead up to this reveal. And also @reverie-tales, thanks for being my unwitting cover to throw LB off my trail!

Anyway, you can find the first chapter Here on AO3 or under the readmore. Happy Holidays!

One Heir to Share? Rhysand's Rita's Threesome

Baring it All at Starfall! Rhysand Stuns in Daring Deep-V Shirt

Rhysand's Baby Blues: Heir's Latest Fling Spotted Shopping for Baby Clothes

Future High Lord’s High: Witchberries, Fae Wine, and Wild Starfall Benders in the House of Wind?

Lady of the Night or FUTURE Lady of Night? Rhysand's Girlfriend Shocks Royal Family at Nynsar

Un-Rhys-onable: Night's Heir Refuses to Kneel to High Lord

Heir Head! Rhysand Forgets Alphabet During Library Community Service

Rhysand had a reputation.

A big reputation.

Perhaps that was why after selling him the newspaper every day for the better part of a year, Feyre Archeron had long since decided that he was far too full of himself to be ashamed of anything.

As he did every Saturday morning, Rhys appeared on her corner like clockwork, wearing last night's clothes and his trademark smirk. If Feyre wanted to know what lucky male or female had gone home on his arm, she'd only have to check tomorrow's society pages, which were always breathlessly detailing the exploits of the Night Court's handsome, charismatic, hard-partying war-hero of a High Lord's heir.

Not that Feyre cared. There were more important things to worry about than Rhysand's love life, like where her next meal was coming from. She only kept up with it because his scandals sold papers like nothing else.

And she definitely didn't feel a stab of envy every time she read about his latest fling. That would be pointless—a lesser fae shadow-wraith like Feyre would never be Lady of the Night Court. The stir Rhys's Illyrian mother had caused made that obvious enough, even if she was the High Lord's mate.

"Good morning, Feyre darling," Rhysand drawled, the way he always greeted her.

"It's noon, Rhys," Feyre said. The nickname might have been overly familiar, but Feyre had noticed his eyes glittered like stars whenever she used it with him. And besides, after being up since dawn, she wasn't inclined to fall over herself currying favor with someone who'd just rolled out of bed.

"Then let me be the first to tell you that you look delicious this afternoon."

Feyre rolled her eyes, positive she looked the farthest thing from delicious in her threadbare leggings and sweater. If it were anyone but Rhys, she would have been sure they were being cruel. But he had enough of her goodwill that he could pay her teasing compliments and not end up with his teeth bashed in for his trouble.

"Did you give them anything interesting to write about last night?" she said, leaning back against a streetlight and crossing her arms over her chest.

Rhys picked at an invisible piece of lint on his tunic, which almost had Feyre rolling her eyes a second time. Despite being in last night's clothes, he didn't look the least bit disheveled—probably some spell he'd cast to ensure he looked irritatingly perfect as always.

"Mor needed a wingman again," he said.

Feyre relaxed, relieved at his answer. Rhys's equally beautiful cousin was the subject of plenty of headlines of her own, and the two were frequently seen together. The people of Velaris were fascinated by the pretty blonde former Hewn City princess–when the Herald ran a story about her, Feyre just had to shout "Morrigan" to turn heads and make sales. If the lead story was about her, Feyre could probably afford to eat tomorrow.

It had been a while, though, since Rhys had been spotted with someone new on his arm. Or with anyone other than Morrigan, his sister, or the two Illyrians he called his brothers actually. Feyre had rolled her eyes at the rumors of a secret relationship or a hidden love child—if you asked her, the most likely explanation was that there were only so many attractive people in Velaris with a weakness for violet eyes. Rhys was bound to run out of people to fuck eventually.

"Is that the truth?" Feyre said, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Or did you actually find someone to settle down with?"

She'd meant it as a joke, but Rhys didn't smile. There was something hungry, almost predatory, in the way his gaze slid over her. Feyre found herself flushing, even as she stared right back. "Would you care if I did?" he said.

It felt like a challenge; Feyre lifted her chin. "Of course I'd care if you stopped causing scandals. I'm a newsie, and gossip sells papers."

"Of course," Rhys said, something in his expression seeming to shutter. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a gold coin, handing it to her. The value was far more than a single paper was worth, but he'd always insisted she keep the change.

Feyre pulled a paper from the bag slung over her shoulder and handed it to him, longways so there was no chance their fingers would touch. She'd let that happen once, and his fingertips brushing hers had sent a crackle of electricity along her skin that she'd been thinking about ever since. Her mind replayed it almost daily—and frankly, Feyre found that embarrassing.

She pocketed the coin. "Pleasure doing business with you."

When Rhys spoke again, he dropped his voice to a low, sensual purr that sent shivers skittering down Feyre's spine, heat washing over her despite the autumn chill that cut through her tattered clothes. " Everything is a pleasure when it comes to you, Feyre."

He flashed her one last feline smile, and Feyre tipped her cap as he winnowed away, trying not to blush. With her other hand, she fingered the coin in her pocket. It would go under the floorboard with the rest of the ones she'd stashed away. Only a few more until she could afford the one-way ticket to the Continent that she'd been dreaming of.

Velaris was wonderful— if you could afford a big, strong door to lock out the hustle and bustle. Feyre certainly couldn't, and she was dying to get away.

A flash of auburn hair and a shout of "High Lady!" across the street pulled Feyre from her thoughts. Lucien was striding towards her, a half-empty satchel of newspapers slung over one shoulder and carrying another paper bag in his hand. She raised a hand in greeting—she'd stopped cringing at the nickname a long time ago.

"Is the new spot over by the docks working out for you?" she said when he got closer, even though she knew the answer. Lucien could sell papers anywhere; he didn't even need the eyepatch and the sob story about being an Autumn Court orphan who'd found his way to Night—just his brilliant smile was enough.

Lucien shrugged, the gesture far too elegant for someone who'd spent his morning selling newspapers to sailors and fishmongers. "I can make anything work."

"Then why did you come looking for me?" Feyre said. With unsold papers still in his bag, there had to be a reason. The newsies bought the papers from the distributor each morning, starting each day operating at a loss until they'd sold enough papers to recoup the cost. Lucien still had work to do if he wanted to turn a profit.

He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Isn't gazing upon your beautiful face reason enough?"

"You sound like Rhysand."

"And you're saying that like it's a bad thing. Trouble in paradise?"

Feyre resisted the urge to roll up one of the papers in her own bag and smack him with it. Lucien had overheard her speaking to Rhysand once and apparently decided the prince was in love with her. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.

"Rhysand isn't—"

" By the Cauldron, he'd follow you around like a lost puppy if you'd let him."

"He's just a flirt," Feyre said, the edge to her voice making it clear she didn't want to talk about this anymore. "What did you need me for?"

"Someone needs to finish my pickles," Lucien said, pulling a sandwich out of the paper bag. He handed Feyre half, along with the entire side of pickles it had come with, then sat down on the curb to eat, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

Feyre nibbled on the pickle, the first thing she'd eaten all day, and thanked the Cauldron for a best friend who hated them and shared them with her. Putting her papers aside, she sat down next to him. "Thanks, Lucien," she said, unwrapping her half of the sandwich. Lunch would be on her next—that had been their unspoken agreement for years, even when meals were sporadic and infrequent.

They lapsed into silence, more intent on eating than talking. It was comfortable, a much needed rest after a morning spent shouting headlines at passersby. Feyre's feet already ached from standing all morning.

After a few minutes, Lucien balled up the now-empty wax paper. "Now that you're fed, I think it's safe to mention that you're needed over by the Rainbow."

"Again?" Feyre said with a sigh.

"Bron and Hart are fighting over the same spot. The High Lady should step in."

Feyre wasn't sure when exactly it had happened, but at some point, she'd found herself the unofficial leader of the newsies of Velaris. She'd always kept an eye out for newcomers and lended them a hand—advice on selling papers and navigating the city was all she had, but Feyre shared freely. When there was a problem, she was usually the one to resolve it.

At some point, "High Lady" had gone from an ironic nickname for a poor girl on the streets to a mark of respect for a young woman who took care of her own.

"I'll talk to them," Feyre said, finishing her food and standing up.

Lucien started to thank her, but Feyre had already called on her magic, her body becoming nothing but shadow. Incorporeal like this, she could slip through walls and travel unseen—and crucially, it was faster than walking. As a lesser fae, it was the only magic she had at her disposal.

Even in the brightest sun, Velaris was full of shadows. And for better or worse, Feyre had made them her home.

***

Rhysand had planned to give himself time to read the news before he was due for a meeting at the House of Wind. Yesterday, he'd told himself he'd be up early enough to look over the agenda ahead of time. He'd wanted to be prepared, and his father would have his head if Rhys was late for official court business again.

But somehow, the High Lord's ire seemed incredibly far away last night, when the Cauldron only knew how many drinks he'd had and Mor was dragging him back to the dance floor at Rita's again, and dawn had nearly broken when he'd finally stumbled home.

Late or not, though, he still had to see Feyre.

The most important part of his day had become buying the paper from her. It wasn't about the news and never had been—every day, Rhys hoped that would be the day she finally took an interest in him that went beyond trading a few teasing remarks and rolling her eyes. He'd never flirted so much, so painfully obviously before, just to have it all go ignored like water off a duck's back.

And that had already been going on for a few months before the mating bond snapped.

Their fingers had brushed as she'd handed him the paper. Perhaps that brief touch skin-to-skin had been all it had taken for the urge to claim and taste and scent his mate to hit him with all the force of a brick to the head. Before he'd done something stupid, Rhys had winnowed away without an explanation or a goodbye.

After that, Rhys had resolved not to tell her, at least not until she showed some sort of interest back. But in the months since, he hadn't gotten her to even blush. And even if by some miracle, she did want him that way and accepted the bond, there was no guarantee she wouldn't resent him after a few decades as future Lady of Night. Her indifference was painful enough—Rhys wasn't sure he could withstand her hating him.

For the short flight to the House of Wind, Rhys let the chill in the air clear his head of thoughts of Feyre. He was supposed to focus today. Some of the city's most powerful merchants had asked for a meeting with his father, and as the High Lord's heir, Rhys was expected to be in attendance too.

The meeting room was already full when Rhys walked in, brushing his windswept hair back into place. From the head of the table, his father glared daggers at him.

Rhys ignored it, dropping into the empty seat that had been left for him. "I hope I didn't miss anything interesting."

He kept the smirk plastered on his face, even as his father pushed past his shields to speak mind-to-mind. We'll discuss this later. For now, get through this meeting without embarrassing me further. That's an order.

Rhys made a mental note to let Mor know he'd likely have to cancel their plans to go to the theater that night.

One of the merchants—Rhys had met him before but had forgotten his name—gave him a cold smile and said, "We were just discussing economic policy."

"Carry on, then," Rhys said.

As the meeting droned on, Rhys forced himself to focus, even if the subject matter was painfully dry. One day, he'd be High Lord, and if he wanted to be the sort of ruler the Night Court deserved, one who made things better, he needed to be knowledgeable and willing to listen.

But even then, he wasn't immune to letting his mind wander. At some point, he'd found himself thinking about how the sunlight had brought out the gold in Feyre's hair, when the sound of his name brought him crashing back down to reality.

"…but you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Rhysand?" one of the merchants was saying, the sneer in his voice obvious.

Rhys felt his father's eyes boring into him, and it was clear this was some sort of test. He was supposed to be handling something, and Rhys didn't want to think about what sort of punishment might be in store for him if he made it obvious he'd stopped paying attention.

"Would I?" Rhys said, arching a brow in a way that he hoped looked imperious.

"With how many headlines you've been the subject of? I think by now you'd know a thing or two about what sells papers. If it weren't for you, we'd have gone under after the War."

Rhys's hands curled into fists under the table as he recalled exactly who this merchant was—Pulitzer, a newspaper magnate, the one who'd been complaining that circulation was down since the Treaty had been signed. Peace, apparently, was boring.

Peace that Rhys had bled for, had nearly died for when he'd been captured by Amarantha's army. Not that any of that mattered when profits were down.

"Then a bit more gratitude is in order," Rhys said, his voice low and deadly and all command, sounding every inch the future High Lord he was. It was so brief that Rhys nearly missed it, but his father's lips quirked up in approval. "If you have a request, I suggest you word it carefully."

It quickly became clear that Pulitzer and the rest of the owners of Velaris's major newspapers had come to grovel. Even if Rhys couldn't bring himself to care, it was true that the Night Court's newspaper industry was bringing in less money since the end of the war. They'd come to petition his father for assistance.

And to Rhys's relief, the High Lord's answer had been a quick and resounding no.

Of course, Rhys knew his father's answer had been more about safeguarding the Night Court's wealth more than anything else. That much was obvious when so many of their citizens were struggling, even in Velaris. It was something that Rhys vowed to change one day.

But Rhys's relief didn't last much longer. His father had told the newspaper moguls to figure it out themselves, and they'd quickly agreed that to fix their bottom line, they'd raise the price for the newsies who bought the papers to distribute each morning.

Newsies who were barely getting by as it was. Newsies who were already going hungry and sleeping outdoors even as the weather got colder. Newsies who'd been orphaned or disabled after the war and couldn't find decent work.

Newsies like his mate, and Rhysand certainly wouldn't stand for that.

#feysand #acotar secret santa #Love at First Sight's For Suckers

106 notes · View notes

c-e-d-dreamer · 4 months

Text

Punish You With Pleasure (Pleasure You With Pain)

A/N: happy belated birthday @moodymelanist! This is a super late gift, but hopefully the absolutely filthy smut will make up for it. And hoo boy is it filthy! 😉 I know this is a crackship and not everyone's cup of tea, so this is your friendly reminder to simply don't read if you don't like. Also, the consent in this fic is a bit dubious so please read with care! Special shout out to @witch-and-her-witcher for reading this for me and assuring me it was the right side of insane

Read on AO3

Five hundred gold marks.

She'd spent five hundred gold marks on her little escapade the previous night.

He'd seen the way Feyre's eyes would go distant mid-paint stroke sometimes. The way she'd start to wring her fingers together and worry at her bottom lip as her thoughts trailed to her eldest sister. He'd seen the dark circles that clung to the skin beneath Cassian's eyes even well after they'd returned home to peace. He knew his brother was almost constantly perched on that rooftop, praying to the Mother and the Cauldron for anything other than another rejection from a female who clearly never thought twice about him. Rhys had to order him away to Illyria just so his brother might finally get some sleep.

But Feyre's expression this morning when the bill from the previous night arrived had been the final straw. Those soft blue eyes he loved so much had misted over, heat creeping up her neck in shame, as she started forlornly down at her breakfast. A single tear had slipped down across her cheek and into her eggs.

Rhys had been done then. Done with his family hurting. Done with the cause being this cruel, stubborn, selfish female. This is his Court, his city, and he won't allow for this to go on any longer. He intends to put Nesta Archeron in her place.

He can't remember the last time he's been to this part of Velaris. Many of the cobblestones beneath his shoes are cracked, some even fully broken or missing. Paint chips and peels off many of the buildings, but it doesn't stop any of the taverns lining the streets. Doesn't stop the patrons entering their doors or stumbling out of them.

The unfortunate building Nesta Archeron has chosen as a home is as unassuming as it is rundown. Dull gray stone and broken shutters line the outside, and as Rhys steps through the doors, it's rickety stairs that greets him. He follows them up to the third floor, his feet carrying him down the winding hall.

There's a distinct scent that seems to permeate the whole space around him. Stale alcohol. Food gone bad. Unbathed residents. Rhys can't help but grimace, can't help but turn his nose up to that scent, to all the grime that seems to bleed from the walls. He'll certainly need a long soak after this, and almost instinctively, his fingers move to his sleeve, picking and brushing at the fabric.

There’s nothing particularly remarkable about the door at the end of the hall. Nothing of note either. Old nails in the wood may have held up rusted numbers or letters at some point, but not any longer. Raising his fist, Rhys knocks twice, hard and curt, against the wood. There’s rustling on the other side, the slide of locks, and then the door pulls open, Nesta Archeron standing before him.

She has on some male’s shirt, but judging by the scent behind her, or lack thereof, whoever was in the apartment is long gone now. She’s barely bothered to do up the few buttons at the bottom of the shirt. It leaves a deep v of skin exposed and on full display. The expanse of her collarbones, down through the valley of her breasts, all the way down to her navel. Dark circles cling to the pallor skin beneath her eyes, but they’re still a piercing, stormy blue, still narrowed in a glare in greeting.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Nesta sneers, her appearance doing nothing to damper the bite to her tone.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Rhys asks coolly instead of answering.

“No.”

Nesta tries to slam the door in his face, but Rhys is quicker. His hand shoots out, catching the wood and stopping its momentum with ease. It doesn't take much effort to force the door open again, to shoulder his way past Nesta and into her apartment. The lingering scents of males is especially potent inside, a mingled, stale mix of sweat and sex. Rhys doesn't bother swallowing down his blatant sniff nor his frown, reveling in the way Nesta's gaze hardens even more at the reaction.

“What are you doing here?” Nesta demands again, crossing her arms over her chest. The gesture only draws further emphasis to the swell of her breasts, threatening to send them spilling through the opening in the shirt she wears.

Rhys tears his gaze away from her, eying the bedroom and the rumbled sheets he can see through the open doorway instead. “Company left already? Perhaps consider washing your sheets. I’m sure the scent of revolving males is quite off putting and would send any sane male running.”

“Fuck you,” Nesta seethes, practically snarling as she spits the words at him.

“And what number male was that last night? Or have you already lost track?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Rhys chuckles darkly, stepping closer to her again and using the few inches he has on her to look down and offer a smile that’s all teeth. “It is when it’s in my city.”

For her credit, Nesta doesn’t allow the proximity or his height to cow her. She holds her ground, raising her chin defiantly. “I didn’t realize that was part of your job description, keeping tabs on all the fucking that happens. That must be exhausting.”

“If I were you, I’d keep that smart mouth of yours closed.”

“And if I were you, I’d get out of my apartment,” Nesta fires back, gesturing toward the door.

“Yours? Did you forget who pays the rent for this shit hole?” Rhys chuckles dryly, making his disgust clear as he pointedly looks around. When he finally meets Nesta’s gaze again, her hands are clenched into fists, that defiance burning as bright as the flames he knows skitter just beneath her skin. “Although, clearly you have no issue with whose money you’re spending considering what you spent last night.”

The barest hint of a smirk tugs up the corner of Nesta’s lips. “What can I say? All the bar patrons were all too happy to raise a toast to their High Lord when they heard drinks were on him.”

“Do you think this is a joke? You spent five hundred gold marks last night!”

“Only five hundred?”

The growl is escaping the back of Rhys’s throat before he can stop it. “Do you take joy in being a selfish bitch?”

“Does it get you off playing big, bad High Lord? I’m sure Feyre loves this little act.”

“Don’t speak about your sister, your High Lady, that way.”

Nesta rolls her eyes. “So much talk, and yet I’m not seeing any sort of action.”

Rhys surges forward, his hand coming up between them to grasp at her jaw, to hold her in place while he glares and seethes at her face. He can feel her pulse just beneath his fingers, the way it flutters and stutters, but it’s not fear burning in those blue eyes.

“You want to see action? Give me a reason. I dare you. You will speak of your sister with respect. You will speak to me with respect.”

“What are you? My father?”

Rhys realizes too late how close they’re standing. Realizes too late that her already kiss bitten lips are parted as she stares up at him beneath long lashes. Realizes too late that her full breasts are pressed firmly against his chest, peaked nipples noticeable even through the two layers of fabric between them. Realizes too late the way his cock twitches in interest at this turn of events, this turn in the conversation.

“Really? Does that get you off? Do you want me to call you Daddy?”

Despite her taunting words, the sweet scent of her arousal permeates the air, swirling around him and flooding his senses. The magic deep within his chest thrums to life, rising in interest to meet the well of power stolen from the Cauldron itself. He squeezes his hand a bit tighter, relishing in the way Nesta’s breath catches, the way her eyes flutter, casting piercing blue in shadow as her eyelashes kiss her cheeks.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Rhys warns lowly, even as he shifts his hand enough that he can drag the pad of his thumb across her lips.

“I’m quite confident the only person’s ability to finish currently in question is yours.”

“There’s that smart mouth again. How about we put it to better use.”

Rhys slides his hand down, the tips of his fingers grazing across the skin of her neck. He can feel the shiver that skitters up her spine at the touch, the goosebumps that pebble beneath. His fingers continue down to her collarbone, following the delicate line all the way to her shoulder. It doesn’t take much pressure for him to push her down to the floor, her legs spreading wide to hold her weight comfortably.

In this position, Rhys has a perfect view to leer down the front of Nesta’s shirt. He can see the large swell of her breasts and pink peaked nipples perfectly, can watch the way they heave with each panting breath that tumbles past her parted lips. And just beyond, he can see the dusting of dark curls begging for his touch, for his cock.

As if sensing where his thoughts have gone, Nesta’s eyes dance to the growing tent in the front of his pants. Already his cock is hard and straining against the laces and fabric, his blood heating with every passing second. The sight of Nesta licking her lips forces him to swallow down a groan. The stubborn, eldest Archeron. The Kingslayer. The female who sneered at every High Lord when they all gathered.

“Now, that’s much better. On your knees before your High Lord,” Rhys comments, slowly but surely untying the laces of his pants. He tugs his cock free, fisting it and spreading the precum pooled at the tip down the length of it. Nesta tracks the movement, and Rhys smirks at the reaction. “Is this what you want?”

Nesta looks at him through her eyelashes, nodding her head. The scent of her arousal becomes stronger, headier, the female clearly as turned on as he is. He can already imagine how she must be dripping down her thighs, but the shirt still hides that from view. Because he can, Rhys uses his free hand and tugs hard at the offending thing, wanting to hear the buttons clattering against the wood, the feel of fabric tearing beneath his grip, rather than magicing it away.

The sight presented before him is certainly worth it, and he half wonders if he should fuck her tits instead.

“Open,” Rhys demands coldly, letting a low rumble of his power to bleed into his tone. Almost on cue, Nesta’s lips part wider, her tongue pressing forward in waiting. “Well, would you look at that. You can behave after all.”

Before Nesta can respond or get another remark out, Rhys presses his cock forward into the wet heat of her mouth. He’s not gentle about it, feeding her half his length in one crude thrust until he hits the back of her throat. She chokes around him, but then she’s moaning, the vibration paired with her throat working and swallowing around him finally pulling a groan free from his chest.

Her tongue laves at the underside of his cock, the tip flicking and catching on the ridge of the head as he pulls back only to push right back in. He digs a hand in her hair, threading the brassy strands around his fingers and tugging hard. It pulls another choked, spluttering moan from Nesta, and Rhys using his grip to begin fucking her mouth in earnest. With each hard snap of his hips, he tries to feed her even more of his cock, to bury himself deeper down her throat.

“You know, your mouth is much sweeter when it’s stuffed full of cock instead of mouthing off.”

Nesta blinks up at him with watery eyes as he continues to move. Tears track down her cheeks, mixing with the drool that spills past her lips and splashing across her chest. There’s a pretty, pink flush spread across the skin there, matching the color of her cheeks. Even with the wide stretch of her lips around him, she hollows those same cheeks.

“Fuck,” Rhys groans, pleasure buzzing through his veins and threatening to send him teetering over the edge quicker than he’d prefer.

He pulls out of her mouth with a wet pop, a line of drool still connecting them. He watches the way Nesta swallows, the way she licks her lips now swollen and red from sucking his cock. Her eyes are glassy as she peers up at him, but that fire still burns behind the blue of them.

“Close already?” Nesta asks, the taunt still clear despite the rasp of her voice. “That’s disappointing.”

With a growl, Rhys uses the grip he still has on her hair to yank her to her feet, the rest of her shirt falling away with the movement. He doesn’t bother with the bedroom, with the rumpled sheets and the ghosts of males embedded within the fabric. Instead, he spins Nesta around and pushes her against the ragged, fraying sofa that takes up space in her sorry excuse for a living room.

“So much hatred,” Rhys comments, using his feet to kick her legs further apart. He presses himself along her spine, curling an arm around her. He slides his hand down her chest, down her stomach, all the way down until he finds the lips of her cunt already slick and fluttering from the barest of touches. “And yet you’re already drenched for me.”

He keeps his touch light, drawing the tips of his fingers back and forth. When he reaches her clit, he draws the barest hint of a circle against it before pulling away again. A high pitched sound somewhere between a whine and a whimper tumbles past Nesta's lips, and she tries to shift her hips down, chasing the pressure, but he keeps her firmly pinned in place.

“Beg for it,” Rhys tells her, teasing at her entrance in a promise of the pressure to come and gathering the wetness there between his fingers.

Nesta moans softly, her hips stuttering again, but she turns her head over her shoulder enough to still glare at him. “You know you want to fuck me, so just do it already.”

“And yet you’re the one with your legs spread and desperate for me,” Rhys reminds her, skimming over her clit again, her cunt fluttering beneath his ministrations as if in agreement of his words. “Beg for it. And maybe I’ll be a generous High Lord and give it to you.”

Nesta huffs, turning her head back around and dropping it down between her shoulders. She doesn’t say anything, but Rhys is confident that her stubborn will won’t win out this time. He continues his teasing and taunting touches, daring to slip and press just the pad of his finger past her entrance.

“I’m waiting…”

“Please,” Nesta finally whispers. “Please. I need it.”

“That’s more like it.”

Rhys wastes no time sinking two fingers into her cunt, hard and deep. Nesta lets out a loud moan at the sudden intrusion, slumping forward even more against the sofa. Her cunt is warm and wet, practically inviting him in with the way it seems to pull his fingers even deeper, the way her walls flutter and clench around them. He drives his fingers in a rough, fast pace, scissoring and curling them. Every wanton sound he draws out of the female before him goes straight to his cock, his length somehow hardening even more.

“All these males in and out of here, and have you ever even been properly fucked? You’re so tight.”

“Fuck,” Nesta gasps out between moans. “You.”

“Oh, I intend to. I’ll show you what it’s like to take a real male’s cock.”

Rhys curls his fingers, finding that spot within her that has Nesta keening, has her back arching with the pleasure. Already, her skin has started to glisten, beads of moisture beginning to pool along her spine. Pressed this close together, her sweet scent engulfs him, making him dizzy. It drives him to work his fingers harder. To squeeze in a third finger. To press his thumb hard to her clit.

Every slide of his fingers is wet and hard. Each forceful thrust in sends Nesta’s hips jostling against the back of the sofa, and each time he drives his fingers back out, more of her arousal is drawn out too. It makes a mess of his hand, slicking between his fingers. Leaves the wet sounds of sex echoing through the apartment, a perfect harmony to the melody of Nesta’s moans.

He can tell she’s close from the way she starts to squeeze tighter around his fingers, her walls fluttering and pulsing in a steady pace. From the way her keens grow into a higher, breathier pitch. Her fists clench hard into the fabric of the sofa, and Rhys uses that exact moment to withdraw his hand completely.

“Please,” Nesta whispers again, letting out what sounds almost like a sob. It’s broken and needy, and Rhys’s cock twitches again in interest. “Please…”

“You forget that this is a punishment.” Rhys lifts his hand toward her face, dragging his fingers and her own arousal across her lips. “Clean them.”

Nesta dutifully sucks his fingers into her mouth, sliding her tongue around each digit. She moans around them, around the taste of herself, and Rhys presses his fingers even deeper, until she’s gagging against his touch. He slips his fingers free, but he doesn’t pull them far. Instead he grips her jaw, still sticky, wet fingertips digging into her skin. He yanks her face to look at him over her shoulder. Her eyes are unfocused, the blue of them swallowed by her pupils in their blown out, lust addled state.

“But this is what you want, isn’t it?” Rhys asks in a mocking tone. “You like to be punished, to be put in your place.”

He releases his hold on her with enough force that Nesta’s head merely sags back between her shoulders. Rhys knows that he could leave her just like this, desperate and keyed up and wanting. Knows that it would be punishment enough. He knows that he should leave her just like this, a voice tickling along the back of his mind to remind him of such.

But his own desire and need is a throbbing and wanting thing writhing inside his chest. Her cunt is the prettiest shade of pink, still fluttering and pulsing from his previous ministrations, practically begging for him to take take take. His power rumbles beneath his skin and echoes the chant, and Rhys slides a tantalizing hand down her spine, Nesta arching even more beneath his touch.

“Take it,” Nesta breathes softly as though reading his own thoughts. “Take me.”

Rhys focuses his attention back on his pants, tugging them further down his hips. He fists his cocks again, the pump of his hand already providing some relief for the ache burning low in his gut. He slides the head of his cock along her, gathering the wetness there and spreading it down the length of him. Nesta shudders and moans each time his cockhead catches on her clit, trying to rock further against him, and while the temptation to make her beg again is there, Rhys isn’t sure he’ll be able to wait much longer. For once, he wants to be selfish, and who better to be selfish with than the most selfish female he’s ever met.

He shifts his free hand to grip her hip, to hold her in place exactly how he wants her, and then he buries his cock inside her in one hard, clean thrust. The warmth and squeeze of her around him is indescribable, a groan escaping his clenched jaw. He can’t stop staring at where they’re joined. Can’t stop staring at the way her cunt opens for him, the way it swallows him.

“Rhysand,” Nesta’s voice brings him back to the present. “Move.”

“You’re the one who’s so desperate for cock. So you can fuck yourself on mine.”

Nesta whimpers at his harsh words, but there’s no denying the way she clenches down harder around him, the way her walls flutter still adjusting to his size. She spreads her legs wider, resetting her stance, and then she starts to move her hips. With the limited space between the sofa and Rhys’s body, she can do nothing but create shallow thrusts, but even still her sweet cunt somehow pulls Rhys even deeper, the drag of her walls enough that he has to tighten his grip against her hip.

He allows her control for just a few more thrusts before taking it back with a hard snap of his hips. He sets a punishing pace, his hand sliding up her back and shoving her down hard until she’s bent in half over the sofa. His hand traces along her shoulder, down her arm to her wrist. It takes some maneuvering around the way their bodies jostle with each rough thrust, but he’s able to move her hand down to her own cunt, move it so he’s fucking through her splayed fingers.

“Do you feel that?” Rhys growls out, his voice barely audible over the moans and cries of the female beneath him. “Do you feel how drenched you are for me? Feel how well you take your High Lord’s cock?”

He leaves her hand there and shifts his own to her breasts. They overflow in his palms, heavy and bouncing as he continues to fuck her hard. He pinches and tugs at her nipples, relishing in the way her cunt seems to respond each time he does. It doesn’t take long before Nesta begins to tighten even more around him on each inward thrust, before she’s practically trembling against him, clearly teetering right on that edge.

“Do you want to come?” Rhys teases one hand down just past her navel but no further. “Scream my name. Let all of Velaris know how good their High Lord is. And maybe I’ll be generous and fill you up.”

Nesta is all too happy to oblige, shouting his name until she’s practically hoarse between her choked off moans and high pitched whines. Rhys finally slips his hand lower and spreads her wider still. Her clit is slippery and swollen, and it only takes a few swipes of the pad of his fingers before Nesta is wailing brokenly, her whole body tensing as she finds her release.

Feeling her coming on his cock, the way she clamps around him, steals the breath straight from Rhys’s lungs. Despite the tightness of her still fluttering and pulsing cunt, Rhys doubles his efforts, fucking in harder and deeper and chasing his own release. His balls slap against her skin, filling the apartment and mixing with the sounds of his own grunts and Nesta’s whimpers.

“It’s… it’s too much…”

“You can take it,” Rhys tells her harshly, not stopping his movements. “I know you can take it. Don’t you want me to fill you up? Fill you up nice and deep until you’ll be dripping for days. Until every male in this city will know whose bitch you really are. Until you’ll always remember this cock.”

Nesta lets out another sob as another orgasm tears through her unbidden, clenching so hard that Rhys sees stars. He groans and buries himself as deep as he can go, his cock twitching as he spills inside her. He offers a few more shallow thrusts, riding out the last tendrils of his own release and taking a final moment to relish in the tight heat of Nesta’s still fluttering cunt.

She whimpers when he pulls his softening cock out, slumping against the sofa in a boneless heap. Rhys can’t help but fist his cock again, dragging the head through the absolute mess he’s made of her cunt. He gathers his seed that starts to dribble out of her, shallowing forcing it right back where it belongs, chuckling darkly at the way her knees give out at the action, the way she shudders.

“Perhaps now, you’ll remember your place in this Court,” Rhys whispers in her ear, both a threat and a promise.

He straightens back to his full height, carefully tucking himself back into his pants and tugging the cuffs of his sleeves back into place. He offers Nesta Archeron one last look, the female still naked and unmoving save for her still gasping breaths against the sofa, before turning and striding toward the door.

“I expect to see you at the next family dinner.”

#rhysta #nesrhys #nesta archeron #rhysand #acotar #acofas #nesta x rhys #nesta x rhysand #my fic

108 notes · View notes

fieldofdaisiies · 1 year

Text

Feysand | Oh So Sensitive Wings

type: fluff & smut warning(s): suggestive, smut: in p in v, vulgar wording, minors dni!! word count: 2.1k words request: based on the headcanon request that Feyre uses Rhys’s wings for drawing. I would like to dedicate this story to @autumndreaming7 for being such an amazing friend and wonderful person, I hope it brings a little smile to your face💛

read on ao3

Rhys giggles softly— the sound joyful and so very un-High-Lord-like, so pure, so adorable it has Feyre chuckling loudly as a reaction. Her hoarse laugh fills the High Lord’s ears and he revels in it, bliss taking root in his chest and warming him from the inside out.

“Hold still,” Feyre orders then, flicking her mate’s ear a little. An almost gleeful grin spreads over her face, her eyes aglow with a hint of mischief. She rocks her hips against his front, knees braced on the bed, her brush tightly clasped in her hand. “I am not done yet.”

“I have noticed that, Feyre-darling,” Rhys answers in a low voice, his hands tightly fisting the pillows above him. He groans somewhere deep in his throat when his mate ever so slightly swipes her brush up the base of his wing and fully returns her attention to her work of art.

It is such a gentle sweep and immediately lets Rhysand’s thoughts wander to Feyre's fingers moving up his wing instead of the brush. “Darling,” he purrs, the low rumble reverberating through Feyre. Her toes curl a little and she feels damp heat pool in her core. The High Lady of the Night Court knows that her mate can smell her arousal, but she does not mind, she actually likes it. She has him fully under her mercy, he lets her paint his wings, said he would love to try it and so they ended up in bed, Feyre’s brush attached to his wings, gently sweeping over the sensitive membrane, adding lovely decorations the High Lord.

Rhysand has to lift his arms, keep them above his head so Feyre has access to all areas of his wings. They originally planned on painting the backside of his wings, but Rhysand said he could then not see the painting himself then and so they opted for the inside. Like with a book, you open it and a whole new world is presented to you.

“Yes, my love?” Feyre answers, her tone sultry, her voice a breathy whisper in her mate’s ear. “Is that not to your liking?”

Rhysand only chuckles in answer, slowly shakes his head, feeling the cool tip of the in paint covered brush move up his wing. It is close to the sensitive part but still not so close enough that it would arouse him even more — if that was even possible. Every fiber in him is already screaming for his mate, his whole body yearning to be fully consumed by her. But the High Lord of the Night Court knows that his mate is a little tease, knows how much she is enjoying it and so he lets her have her fun, knowing that later it will be him who will enjoy the fun.

With graceful simplicity the brush moves over the leathery membrane of his wing while Feyre is straddling him and Rhys can’t tear his eyes away from his mate. His gaze is constantly glued to her face, those stunning blue eyes, her full lips, the concentrated expression on her face. She is the most beautiful female he has ever seen and still today Rhysand can’t thank the Mother and the Cauldron enough for bringing her into his life.

His leg jerks up a little, his teeth capturing his lower lip when the tiny, soft tip of the brush ever so slightly grazes the vein leading up to his talon. He groans lowly, and lowers one arm, his hand grabbing Feyre’s hip, finger tips digging into her soft skin. It is the side where Feyre hasn’t painted anything yet, so it is all good — or Rhysand thinks so. His High Lady raises a brow in reprimand, her lips pursed, but her mate’s soothing purr soon makes her lips turn into a small grin. “Darling, that was too close.”

A feline smile plays on her lips when the High Lady raises her brow once again. She leans in a little, her core rubbing against the hard ridge of her mate’s arousal. “I doubt there is too close when it comes to me touching your wings.” Rhysand tightens his grip on her hips, his jaw clenched when he groans once again, his chest rumbling. He finds himself beyond words, because his mate is correct.

It feels like the room is boiling, both their skins hot and tight with the rising desire. Rhys’s heart is beating a little faster then, his palm turning clammy from where it touches his mate’s soft skin. In the room it smells like paint and arousal and he knows he can’t stand it for much longer, wants to be buried deep inside of his mate.

Mischief is etched into Feyre’s features when she sweeps up her brush and smudges it over her mate’s jaw, chuckling viciously at the blue line grazing his skin. “Unclench your jaw, my love, you will grind your teeth down to nothing.”

“You cruel, wicked thing,” Rhys answers through gritted teeth, his eyes aglow with desire. And he knows that Feyre’s passion is just as acute as his own. He can practically feel the dampness pooling between her thighs — he can definitely scent it.

“Stop blabbering and lift your arm again, I can obviously not continue like that, Rhys,” Feyre then orders and only reluctantly the High Lords lifts his hand off her hips and moves his arm backwards, his biceps flexing when he once again grips the pillow underneath his head and then grins. “Well, then, darling, do your worst.”

And Feyre does, setting out again to finish his first wing so she can finally move on to his other, but not before painting a few colour lines onto his solid chest, first using the brush, then her fingers.

Rhysand enjoys the peaceful moment, trying to not let his thoughts wander too far, and just focuses on how happy his mate seems. Nyx is safe with his aunt and uncle, Cass and Nesta, enjoying a lovely day with them, while his parents finally have a little time for themselves.

“It is coming together beautifully,” Feyre whispers and smiles, her gaze trained on the short white coloured lines she is currently placing on the inside of Rhysand’s second wing.

A night sky, she had said she wanted to draw, with stars and shooting stars.

The movements of the brush are all coordinated and gentle, Feyre is fully focused and Rhysand loves nearly nothing more than seeing his mate like that. She is stunning and breathtaking and he desperately wants to move his arm so he can brush the short strand of hair that is toppling over her forehead out of Feyre’s face. But he holds back, knowing if he moved he would smudge the paint and he really does not want to destroy her masterpiece. And so he holds still until Feyre is finished which is not too much time later. She finishes her painting with the biggest grin on her face, her in paint covered hands now resting on her mate’s belly.

There is already a lot of colour there, but Rhys does not mind, he just wants to see what his mate has done. And so Feyre moves off him, shimmies backwards until Rhys has enough space to move of the bed, and he strolls towards the mirror. Feyre stays, kneeling on the bed, her gaze following her mate, momentarily dropping to the very obvious hint of his arousal that shows through his thin sleeping pants. She has to grin to herself.

Standing in front of mirror in all his powerful glory, Rhysand flares his wings. They look majestic behind his broad shoulders. The High Lord looks at Feyre’s work of art in utter admiration — it is stunning and absolutely artistic. Glancing over his shoulder at his mate, Rhysand immediately gets an idea on how to repay her for it. His gaze lands on her hands braced on the lower bedframe and he knows what he wants to do. “Stay like that, darling. Only lift your butt a little for me.”

From the lower end of the bed you have the perfect view into the mirror and Rhysand thinks that he will enjoy nothing more than watching the masterpiece on his wings while making love to his mate. He raises his brow, smirking a little and sends her a mental image. Feyre understands immediately what he is aiming at. And Gods, she loves the idea already, having craved her mate for the past hours she has been painting his wings.

“You know, I want to reward you for this masterpiece,” Rhys purrs when he climbs onto the bed and moves behind Feyre. He looks at her through the mirror, both their eyes aglow, their skin tingling with anticipation and desire. “I want to show you exactly how much I love it. How proud I am of this masterpiece.” He grins, feline and a little cocky, when his hands slide up Feyre’s outer thighs and he shoves up the shirt she is wearing and thinks that is is very fortunate that she has only been wearing a shirt and underwear this morning.

“Take that off for me, darling, will you?” The shirt is gone in an instant, which leaves Rhys ogling her front through the mirror for a long moment until he gathers his thoughts again. His hand slides up Feyre’s back, over her spin to the nape of her neck and he makes her move so her hands curl around the lower bed frame again and her butt is lifted. His index fingers curl around the hem of her undergarments and pulls them down to her knees, leaving her fully exposed for her mate. Her core is glistening with arousal and Rhys relishes in the sight of her, rosy and wet and just for him. He swallows before sucking his lower lip between his teeth. “You marked me earlier, now I am going to return the favour, Feyre-darling.”

The High Lord flares his wings simultaneously to his hand moving to the front of his slacks and he frees his already rigid and throbbing length. With his one hand he is stroking himself at the same time the index and middle finger of his other hand glide through his mate’s folds, eliciting the most beautiful gasp from her. “More, my darling?” “Always.” Feyre speaks through gritted teeth, her voice close to a hiss. Her knuckles turn white from how tightly she is already holding onto the bed frame. Rhys pushes his fingers into her, preparing her for his cock. “So wet,” he purrs and loves how her walls clench his fingers, how her body shudders and goosebumps appear all over her skin. He makes her come with his fingers once, stroking himself slowly before he removes his fingers and licks them clean, growling deep in his throat at the taste of her — of his mate.

The High Lord positions the tip of his cock against Feyre’s entrance and slowly pushes in, blissfully stretching her out like it always used to be, and moving into the hilt.

His mate moans, the sound so hoarse and low, Rhys has to call upon all his restraints to not come right at the sound of it. One hand braced on her hip, holding her in place he slowly pulls out until only the tip is in. When he thrusts into her again, his hand brushes up her spin until he can grab the hair at the nape of her neck, his fingers wrapping around some strands of hair, pulling softly. “Lift your gaze, darling. Look at the masterpiece you created.” He grins when Feyre does as told, her gaze not moving to the wings first but to her mate’s eyes.

“You are the masterpiece, Rhys.” It is now Feyre who grins, sincerely and in a way that tells Rhys again how much she loves him. Her eyes are ablaze with passion and desire and for a moment they are the only thing Rhys can look at, holding her gaze through the mirror while he moves into her again. His thrusts are long, almost languid and coordinated, working her softly and making her feel every inch of his proud length until he can no longer hold back. His pace turns faster, the thrusts harder and quicker, making the bed shake and Feyre moan. Her head is thrown back, eyes shut, and her lips part with a cry of pure bliss and pleasure. Satisfaction nears in waves, before it washes over her, makes her clench arounds mates cock. She feels him pulse inside of her and comes with a scream, her mate’s hot seed spurting off her walls when he comes simultaneously, his growl filling the whole room, and making the furniture shake.

“No, you are the masterpiece, Feyre darling,” he drawls and gives his High Lady’s rear a gentle smack.

~~~~~~

tags: @brekkershadowsinger @a-frog-with-a-laptop

#feysand #feyre archeron #rhysand #acotar #acosf #acomaf #feysand fluff #feysand smut

229 notes · View notes

thesistersarcheron · 6 months

Text

Pairing: Feysand Rating: E Tags: Smut, Angst, Necromancy & Resurrection, Ghosts & Haunting, Morally Gray Rhysand, Silver Fox Rhysand, Dark Magic, Halloween Summary: Feyre swallowed her horror and raised her tattooed hand. “The bargain was only for the rest of my life.”

Rhysand's grip on her tightened as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “Tamlin and I didn’t shuffle your corpse around for a week every month, if that’s what you’re thinking. I had to do some good old-fashioned graverobbing to get you, Feyre.”

Her spine stiffened. Prick!

(Or, what would have happened if Feyre wasn’t resurrected Under the Mountain?)

Read the first chapter on AO3 now! Snippet below the cut.

Feyre Archeron woke with a dry, rasping gasp.

She choked on that breath, the air fighting to reach her lungs as stale as final breaths and wilted grave offerings. It was thick with incense, too, and her eyes watered painfully as she turned her head to the side, coughing around the knot in her throat.

“Easy, love,” a velvet voice murmured above her. One gentle hand brushed away the tears gathering on her cheeks; another massaged her throat until her wheezing turned to smooth, steady breaths. “Easy.”

The fingertips on her cheeks migrated to her hair, brushing back a lock tangled in her lashes. The touch, though it was little more than a graze, was full of something protective, something possessive. Even though she was lightheaded and reeling, Feyre leaned into it, desperate for the safety it promised.

Her eyes burned as she blinked them open to look at Tamlin.

But it wasn’t Tamlin touching her, and immediately, she began to choke again.

Rhysand.

The High Lord of the Night Court stood over her, leaning over a short stone wall to stare down at her with silver-limned eyes.

He looked nothing like she remembered. The last she had seen of him, he had been frantic, crawling across a throne room with a dagger in his hand and death in his bloodshot eyes. His skin had been ashen, his hair in dusty disarray. His fine black clothes had also been covered in dust and blood, his teeth bared, his face feral, as he launched himself at Amarantha with a roar.

This wasn’t the same male.

Feyre stared at him, and he stared back, seemingly content for once to let her look without a sly comment.

And the more Feyre looked at him, the more she saw. His hair, though it bore an otherworldly blue-black shine that had been absent the last time she saw him, was shot through with silver at the temples. There were fine lines around his violet eyes, drawing her attention to the deep, bruised circles beneath them, but the rest of his skin was a warm, lovely shade of brown that spoke to fresh air and sunshine and good food.

Night-dark power flowed off of him like smoke, the foreboding mantle of a dark king. It was too dark, though, and writhing in agitation, as if something within his soul had rotted.

But he was not agitated. No, he watched her with utter adoration plain on his face, soft and awed.

Feyre looked away from his parted lips and the tear lined eyes, suddenly uncomfortable.

But, as she cataloged the width and breadth of his shoulders instead, she found more questions in his clothes. He was clad in black as usual, but the collar of his jacket was devoid of the fine embroidery she remembered, and the brilliant onyx dye was dull, a plain, somber shade.

Mourner’s black.

The suit of a dark, distinguished widower.

She must have lingered on the jet buttons at his collar—their subtle carving of three mountains the only sign of finery on him—a beat too long, because Rhys’s fingers cupped her face to guide her eyes back to his. It was a touch far too loving for a male who barely tolerated her, and Feyre flinched back.

Her shoulder hit stone, and her uneasy lungs collapsed as she realized where she lay.

Coffin! Her mind shrieked. The memory of a sickening, final snap echoed in her head, bouncing off the walls of her skull. I died! I died! I’m dead!

“You’re alive,” Rhys told her. His hushed voice was steady, but his lips trembled as he stroked her cheek. “So, so alive.”

She hated the way a knot inside of her chest loosened at the sound of his voice, at the feeling of the rough pad of his thumb lingering near her lips, so she slapped at his wrist. He huffed a dry laugh but removed his hand; at the perimeter of her mind, dark talons she hadn’t even noticed uncurled and retreated as well.

“You’re alright,” he murmured, curling a brittle lock of her hair around two fingers. “You’re alive, my love.”

But those talons must have been holding her tattered edges together, because the panic surged higher. Higher and higher and higher, roaring in her ears until all she could see behind her clenched-shut eyelids was a jeering crowd, until all she could feel was mud squelching beneath thin boots—

Until a pair of strong arms banded around her shoulders and the back of her knees. She thought she might have made some kind of noise, high and anxious, but the arms lifted her out of her coffin with such care that her heart stopped pounding at her breast and slowed to a throbbing ache instead. They held her tightly, as if she might disappear if they let her go.

A dizzying sense of deja vu seized her, and Feyre shoved at Rhysand until he deposited her on the floor beside the place where she had been laid to rest.

Her ribcage felt too small for her lungs, and she clutched at it as she watched him from her periphery.

“Breathe, Feyre.”

Feyre responded with a single finger. “I’m trying.”

Rhysand laughed again, softly this time, and shoved his hands into his pockets as he watched her.

“I suppose you are a bit out of practice.”

Fuck you, she thought as loudly as she could.

#feysand #feyre #rhysand #feyre archeron #my fics #poltergeist darling #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of thorns and roses fic #halloween 2023

73 notes · View notes

queen--of--shadows · 2 years

Text

Healing Shadows: Part 4

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader is a gifted surgical healer and water bender. Rhysand needs her help when he finds out about Feyre’s risky pregnancy. Azriel finds out reader is his mate.

Warnings: mentions of surgical wounds and scars

Word Count: 1,896

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

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

Part 4: Truth

Nuala and Cerridwen cleaned up, removing any trace of the traumatic morning, while you and Rhys set up a cozy array of soft quilts, plush blankets, and thick pillows in Feyre’s old room so she could nest with baby Nyx. “Feyre, let me know if you need anything, I’ll be in my--” You stammered as you felt the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Rhys questioned, raising a brow.

“Nothing, I’m sorry. I was about to say my room, I didn’t mean to assume I could just take over the guest room. I…Is there somewhere else I should bring my bag?” You only had your supplies with you, not foreseeing that you would end up moving in so soon.

Rhys and Feyre shared a sympathetic look. “Y/N, please, consider the House like your own home. Take whichever room you prefer. If you want to stay in the guest room, by all means, do,” Rhys continued, “We have no problem using another room for guests.” He gave you a warm smile, and you knew he meant it.

Your chest swelled with joy and gratitude at their generosity. Turning to Feyre, you said “I’ll be in my room. Shout if you need me.”

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

It was late and although you were physically and emotionally exhausted from the day’s events, sleep escaped you. Soaking in a long steaming bath usually helped, but maybe it was the nerves of being in a new home. And not just any home, but the High Lord’s. You still were having a hard time believing the trajectory of your life changed so drastically in just a few days.

You paced in your room, read a few chapters of the book Nesta had lent you, trying to tire yourself out, but after a half hour gave up. Maybe I just need some tea, you thought, grabbing a robe from the dresser and making your way downstairs.

The House was dark and dim, save for the faelight torches along the length of the stairs. You were already familiar with its layout, or as much of it that you’d seen so far. Nesta had mentioned she would give you a tour of the Library tomorrow, and Cassian offered to show you around the rest of the House and the training ground on the roof.

With one hand against the wall, you made your way into the opulent kitchen. Beautiful white marble glistened underneath the iridescent faelight. You grabbed one of the torches to guide your path to the end of the room, pulling back the thick curtains draped around giant floor-to-ceiling windows, revealing the famed starry Velaris night sky and a full moon. Even though you had spent most of your life here, the sight still took your breath away.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Azriel whispered.

You jolted back and turned to face him, not realizing he was in the kitchen before you had come down.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he chuckled, bringing his hands up in innocence. His deep, breathy laugh caressed your soul. Azriel was donning a simple black ensemble, the V-line cut of his sweater showcasing dark sweeping tendrils of his tattoos across a broad, muscular chest. Your heart began to pace and you were sure he could hear its pounding. Moonlight shining bright on him from the window, you couldn’t help but marvel at his perfect features. The sharp angle of his jaw, his soft, full lips, and gorgeous, blazing hazel eyes. His shadows slithered around his arms and shoulders, and you looked down to see one of them wrapping up your leg, like a cat brushing and winding against you. A cheeky smile spread across your face as the shadow slid up and around one leg, then the other.

Meeting his eyes again, you realized you hadn’t said a single word.

“Yes, it’s beautiful,” you breathed. Turning back around, you continued, “I’ve loved the night sky since I was young.” Azriel hummed in agreement, taking a seat at the oak table in the center of the kitchen. You just noticed the odd-shaped chairs, and as he sat down, it made sense that they were fashioned to accommodate their massive wings.

“I was going to make myself tea, would you like some?” You looked to Azriel for his response, but he just stared at you, as if searching for an answer from you in turn. His cold, beautiful face yielded no emotion.

“Sure, thank you.”

You worked in comfortable silence, steeping the tea, unsure what to say or how to make conversation. He was the notorious Shadowsinger, and although that alone didn’t scare you, you had just been invited to move in and were still getting to know everyone.

Straining out the rich chamomile drink into two mugs, you handed him one before deciding to head back upstairs. You wanted to stay, some feeling in your gut telling you to take a seat, but figured it would be better to avoid any situation that would cause you to gain feelings for someone in the Inner Circle. The few moments you’ve had with Azriel thus far already had you in bed at night, imaging his tall lithe body, pushed up against yours.

Azriel wrapped his hand around the mug and your fingers, warm and strong. He looked up at you as if expecting more, but you instead pulled back with a soft smile and mumbled goodnight.

You didn’t notice the shadows that followed you back to your room, slithering along the cold stone floors in the darkness.

You were kicking yourself as soon as you shut your door.

How will I ever fit in around here?

The tea worked its magic to clear your mind, and with heavy lids, you drifted away into a deep sleep.

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

The following day, you were awoken by a loud knock at your door. “Come in,” you grumbled, eyes still half-closed.

“Morning, Y/N!” Mor squealed as she let herself in, her citrusy cinnamon scent filling your room. Jumping onto your bed and propping her head on one elbow, she asked “How did you sleep?”

Her eyes sparkled as she awaited your answer. “Fine,” was all you could manage. How did she look so good this early?

“Madja is here. She said she wanted to come check on Feyre and Nyx.”

Rubbing your eyes and pulling on your robe and slippers, you followed the tall blonde downstairs.

You entered Feyre’s room to find Cassian holding Nyx with Azriel seated next to him, both cooing over the baby. He was looking healthier and stronger by the day. Rhys was helping Feyre out of bed and onto the couch so you and Madja could look at her wounds. Madja slowly peeled back the bandages and gauze from yesterday morning. She whipped around, meeting your eyes with a menacing gaze that made you want to shrink.

“Why do her cuts still look so fresh?” Madja’s words shook you out of your sleepy stupor, and an icy fear mixed with rage washed over you.

No…please, please don’t say anything.

You didn’t respond.

“What does that mean? Are they not supposed to look like this?” Rhys asked, his night-kissed power slowly thrumming throughout the room. All eyes were on you, again.

“Madja? What are you talking about?” Feyre protested.

She didn’t shift her gaze away from you.

“I thought you were going to tell them. When I asked for your help, I meant all of it.”

You threw your head back in frustration. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Madja,” you replied coolly. “I performed the surgery, Nyx is healthy and Feyre is healing appropriately. Her wound is already closing.”

You prayed that everyone would believe you, despite Madja’s death stare.

“Y/N, what are you hiding from us?” Rhys knew how to sound like the High Lord when he needed to. Guilt and shame-- you suddenly felt horrible for not telling them the whole truth. Fine, they offered you their home and trust, the least you could do was give them this.

“Rhys, Feyre, I’m sorry. I haven’t been completely honest with you. I…” You were having a hard time putting your thoughts into words. “I have healing…powers? Magic? Something beyond just my surgical skills. I’m not entirely sure what to call it. I learned a lot from studying medical texts, but my healing power is similar to...”

They all stared at you, awaiting your explanation.

“It’s hard to describe, and I haven’t fully mastered it yet. I need to practice more, but essentially I can heal using water.”

The blank stares you received in return had you stumbling over your words as you continued, “I think it would be better if I just showed you.”

Focusing on the glass of water next to Feyre’s bed, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes to center yourself. You searched deep down in your core for that power, that magic that hummed along your veins, allowing you to bend water to your will. Opening your eyes, you lifted one hand with a flicking motion of your wrist, the water following, easing out of the glass and into the air like a fluid rope. You turned your palm towards the water to stop it, and then continued to bend and twist your wrist and fingers, weaving and dancing the water through the air, not unlike Azriel’s shadows when they wreath around his neck and limbs. You were so focused, you didn’t notice the multiple sets of eyes darting back and forth between the water and you.

“Incredible…” Azriel all but whispered to himself.

Halting the water above Feyre, you motioned for her to lay down on the couch. The room was silent as if everyone was holding their breath, watching you command the element to your will.

With one hand holding the water still above her, you used your other to lift Feyre’s tunic above her abdomen to reveal the site you had cut into just a day ago. Using both hands, you twisted the water into a circle and brought it down above her wound. “This may tickle,” you warned. Feyre nodded, and you were grateful for the trust shining bright in her eyes.

You slid the water across her abdomen, willing the magic from deep inside you into the liquid. The water began to glow a soft blue, illuminating Feyre’s belly, and you moved it in long strokes across her wounds as if you were washing and wiping with a towel. You continued for a few seconds, the redness from the stitches slowly subsiding, and the wound fully closed. You were done with a few more strokes, then eased the liquid back into the glass on the nightstand and reeled your power back in. The water stopped glowing.

“That was…unbelievable,” Rhys muttered. “Y/N, it seems you have a sort of elemental magic. Have you tried using your power with other materials?”

Already following his pattern of logic, you responded with a sigh and shook your head in disappointment, “I have, but for some reason, I’m not able to connect with the other elements. I don’t know why, but it seems I’m only able to do this with water or other fluids that contain water, like--”

“Like blood,” Azriel finished for you, wearing the cold mask of the Night Court’s Spymaster.

“Yes, like blood.”

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

461 notes · View notes

shadowdaddies · 5 months

Note

girl… “Crawl to Me” was wonderful!! I loved it!! Could you possibly switch the roles and see some dominant Rhys 🫣🫡

I always knew that Rhys was the biggest switch in Prythian lol. He’s definitely the male who loves it when his partner wants to top every now and then and gladly submits and gets all giddy lol.

thank you💜 Rhys is def a a switch but dom-leaning (he is Illyrian after all) so here's the "crawl to me" with Rhysie on top

Crawl.

dom!Rhys x Reader

Warnings: smut below the cut, oral m!receiving, d/s dynamics, p in v sex, minors DNI, not proofread

Realizing that your time had run out of avoiding your mate, you slowly made your way up the stairs to your shared bedroom where Rhys awaited. Hand halting on the cold metal of the door handle, you considered if there were any other options than facing him right now.

“Come in, darling,” the High Lord drawled from in your room. Of course he had heard your approach. With a deep breath, you turned the handle and pushed the door open. Rhys sat in a chair by the fire, swirling whiskey in a glass as violet eyes watched your every move. Closing the door behind you, you dared to creep closer to your mate.

“You embarrassed me tonight,” Rhys murmured, his gaze now on the roaring fire from the hearth. Your head hung low as you nodded, wracked with guilt from your actions this evening.

It was your first meeting among the High Lords, and you had underestimated just how antagonizing some of them could be. When Rhys had to jump across the table to keep you from smacking Beron across the face, you knew tensions would be high when you returned home.

“It’s hard for me to hear the way that they speak to you,” you admitted, reflecting on how the High Lord of Autumn had the nerve to call your mate ‘Amarantha’s Whore,’ as if Beron didn’t know what Rhys had sacrificed for Prythian.

Rhys’s gaze softened, understanding exactly what you felt as you waited by the door. You felt love and admiration flow through the bond - an unspoken agreement that Rhys understood your actions. You were defending your mate, and would continue to do so until your dying breath.

You dared to glance at the male across the room, emanating dark power as he watched you with a predatory gaze. Rhysand smirked, looking down his nose at you despite being sat in the large velvet chair. “Crawl to me,” he purred.

Your thighs immediately clenched at the raw power that laced his command, and you began to crouch towards the ground. Rhys clicked his tongue in reprimand, and you froze in your place. “Undress first, darling. I want you ready for me to use.”

You stood back to your full height, eyes locking with his as you slid the straps off of your dress, letting it fall to the floor. Rhys let out a low groan at the sight of your bare body. “Filthy girl, wearing nothing under her clothes to a High Lords meeting?”

You smirked, stepping out of your heels, lowering to your knees. Rhys’s chest was heaving now, his patience hanging by a thread as you lowered to all fours, arching your back to provide him an ample view of your breasts and ass as you slowly crawled towards him.

Rhys downed his glass of whiskey, legs spread wide as you settled on your knees between them - your palms flat on your thighs as you kept your head down and waited for instruction.

“Eyes on me, darling,” Rhys purred, one finger crooking underneath your chin as he tilted your face to look at him. You swallowed at the intensity of his gaze upon you, breathing turning erratic as the scent of your combined arousals filled the air. “You know what to do, pet.”

You nodded as Rhys leaned back in his chair, lazily stroking your hair with one hand as you moved to undo his pants. Lifting his hips, Rhys helped you pull the fabric off completely, waving his hand to spirit away his shirt and leave himself bare to you. You absentmindedly licked your lips at the sight of his toned, tattooed chest - yanked from your perverted thoughts by your mate’s voice. “Set to work, then.”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you knew what Rhysand was expecting. You took his hard cock in your hand, licking a long stripe up the vein on the bottom of the shaft. His jaw went slack, but his eyes kept their focus on you as the hand in your hair slid down to gently hold your neck. Bringing your tongue to his tip, you licked the slit before sucking on the head, enjoying how Rhys’s hips involuntarily bucked into your mouth.

With a smirk, you quickly took him all the way, feeling the head of his cock in your throat as you gagged around it. Rhys let out a loud moan at the feeling, holding you in place until you tapped on his thigh for air. Slightly releasing his hold on your neck, Rhys allowed you to bob up and down on his shaft, one hand working the part you couldn’t reach with your mouth while the other hand gently cradled his balls. “Fuck, darling, just like that,” he groaned and you could tell Rhys was getting close.

Hoping to have him spill inside your mouth, you doubled down on your efforts, picking up the pace as you sucked and stroked him. Rhys twitched inside your mouth just as a hand wrapped around your hair, pulling you off of him. The High Lord panted as violet eyes simmered, looking down at you. “A very nice effort, darling, but I intend to finish inside this pussy tonight,” Rhys drawled, his other hand cupping your chin as he forced you to stand. “Up you go, on the bed. All fours, please.”

You obeyed without thought, walking to the bed and positioning yourself just as you knew he liked, pussy clenching as you anticipated his touch. The bed shifted behind you, one finger lazily tracing up your core. Your head fell forward at the sensation, and you heard the sticky sound of your slick between Rhys’s fingers. “So wet for me, darling. Sucking my cock affects you this much?” he teased.

You opened your mouth to reply when your head was shoved into the mattress, ass in the air as darkness enveloped your senses. You couldn’t see, couldn’t move, couldn’t think about anything besides Rhys’s firm body behind yours. Warm hands gripped your hips as Rhys lined himself up at your entrance, slowly pushing in until you were full of him.

You were panting, struggling to catch your breath as you clenched around your mate’s cock, earning a hiss from him. Rhys began thrusting inside of you, quickly picking up the pace as he pounded you relentlessly. A hand came down to smack your ass, a lewd moan escaping you at the contact as Rhysand murmured dirty words in your ear. He was hitting the perfect spot every time, overstimulating you without even trying.

“Rhys, please baby, let me come,” you pleaded, and he knew exactly what you needed to tumble over the edge. Dark tendrils held you in place as Rhys continued hitting the perfect place inside of you, his cock twitching as he brought a finger to circle your clit.

You came with a scream, chanting his name over and over as Rhys came inside of you, the both of you falling to the mattress to catch your breath. You were barely back to reality when Rhys brushed your hair from your face, violet eyes searching yours with concern. “Are you alright? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You laughed, pulling Rhys close to you and pressing kisses anywhere you could reach. “No, my love. That was amazing,” you admitted, blushing as you tucked your head into his shoulder.

Rhys pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Well if that was amazing, just wait until you see what I have prepared next for you,” he teased, a dark tendril swiping your core - earning a gasp from you as Rhys let out a dark laugh, setting off towards the bathroom where he drew a bath for you, the evening far from over.

205 notes · View notes

the-book-gnome · 2 years

Note

Please write somethinng about wedding night with azriel ( smutty, fluff )

Parings: Azriel x Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: smut, oral (fem reviving), p in v, slight breeding if you squint, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, pet names ( my love, love, princess)

18+ only ! minors do not interact !

Between Feyre and Mor fussing over you and the nerves for the wedding, the day went by quickly. After the ceremony, everyone in the family got together at the river house, neither you nor Azriel wanted a big celebration, it meant more if it was just family.

Cassian kept winking at you every time you or Azriel looked at him, he also kept asking what your plans for the night were as if it wasn’t obvious. Az probably has hit him at least 5 times by now. Armen was sleeping on the couch against Varian, he was playing with her hair. Feyre and Rhys went up to bed about an hour ago, you and Azriel kept trying to go back to the house but every time you said something Mor would start to complain and guilt trip you into staying longer even though the both of you stopped drinking hours ago.

She, Cass and Nesta didn’t seem to mind, they were all still drinking, and they could hardly even stand up without any help. You were sitting on the couch with Az, he was gently stroking your thighs, listening to Cassian talk. You were doing your best to pay attention but Azriel was making that increasingly difficult the higher he moved his hand. No one else seemed to notice so you did your best to pretend nothing was happening.

Azriel suddenly stood up, you slipped off his lap confused, he bent down and lifted you into his arms. When he started walking to the door Casiaan stumbled behind him, “where the hell are you going?” He was spilling the wine in his cup with each step.

“As far away from you as I can get,” Az grumbled, his shadows opening the door for the two of you and then slamming it in Cassian's face. You could hardly hear Cassian whining over your laughter. You could see the smirk on Azriel's face as he took off from the ground. He made sure his shadows kept your outfit and hair untouched by the wind. He looked ethereal in the moon's lighting, his hair casting shadows over his beautifully sculpted face.

“And where are you taking me, shadow singer?” You placed a warm hand on his cheek, tracing the slight stubble. His smirk grew as he landed on the balcony of the room you two shared.

“To my bed to consummate our marriage, I don’t suppose you have any objections?” You yelped as he threw you into the air. Landing on the softness of the many blankets and pillows littered around the bed. You dipped around to look at him. He was simply leaning against one of the frames of the bed with his arms crossed watching you.

“Perhaps if you didn’t treat me like a rag doll I wouldn’t, I’m thinking we should wait to consummate the marriage until you learn simple manners,” You loved challenging him, he always got so competitive. A deep chuckle left his mouth, his hair falling Infront of his face, leaving you utterly breathless, gods he was perfect.

“Hmm, cute,” Azriel leaned forwards, quickly grabbing one of your ankles and dragging you to the edge of the bed. His hands dragging up your legs.

“Don’t do that you’ll ruin the dress,” You were slightly breathless as he pulled down your undergarments. Your dress is still covering you.

“What dress?” He looked back at you, the amusement evident in his voice, for a moment you were confused until the chill of the room washed over you. Your dress had disappeared, his shadows removing it from you without your knowledge.

Azriel gripped your hips, lifting you so you were on your knees, your eyes were level with his collar bones. One hand moved to grip your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “If you behave tonight I’ll let you cum as much as you want, but if you start acting bratty then I’ll make sure you don’t, understood?” You could hear the threat in his voice, he was gentle with you but you knew what would happen if you kept messing with him. And since Edit was your wedding g night you decided to behave, giving him a nod. “Words.” His right hand was ghosting over your clit, adding pressure, and making you whimper.

“I understand,” He let go of your chin, pushing you up the bed so your head fell back onto the pillows. He kneeled in between your open legs, unbuttoning his shirt. “You look pretty,” your voice was soft when you spoke. His chest and abs came into view as he threw his shirt to the side. Then when he sheds out of his pants and underwear, you were able to see all of him.

Azriel's eyes softened, he loved when you said that to him, so genuine and loving. Despite his threat from earlier, there was no way he would let his wife go unsatisfied tonight. Even if you did misbehave he would give you exactly what you wanted, he was at your mercy but you didn’t need to know that. He leaned down, placing a kiss on each knee, before laying in between your legs, slowly kissing his way up your thighs. “As do you, my love,”

You propped yourself onto your elbows, wanting to watch him. He lifted your legs over his shoulders, looking back up at you before giving your clit a kiss. Without breaking eye contact, he licked a bold strip from your entrance to your clit. You let out a shaky breath, and your mouth parted as he continued. The way he was looking at you felt so intimate, you knew he’d do anything for you. A whimper fell out of your mouth as he closed his mouth around your clit, sucking harshly, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

You did your best not to close your eyes for too long, not wanting this moment to go away, but your arms were starting to hurt and you wanted to be able to focus on the pleasure he was giving you, he seemed to notice this, having his shadows lay you back down, they stroked your hair, whisping around your head, giving you more comfort. Azriel's moved his hand up to yours, guiding it to his hair. You pulled hard when he nipped at you, causing him to groan, the vibrations making you buck your hips into his face.

Your moans were getting louder, and his tongue moved faster, adding just the right amount of pressure. He moved one hand to your clit, rubbing circles as he moved his tongue inside of you, thrusting at a fast pace. His shadows holding you down so you don’t move too much. Your walls righting around his tongue, bringing you closer to your release. The pleasure became too much as your orgasm hit you. The sensations caused you to twitch and writhed around him. Your legs clamped around his head, you felt him groan more as your hold on his hair tightened. He worked you through the orgasm, slowing down once you were calming down.

He opened your legs up with his hands, crawling on top of your body to meet you in a sloppy kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, your legs righted around him again, trying to pull him against you. “So impatient, princess,” He moved one of his hands down to align himself with you, giving you another kiss before sinking into you. You both let out a breath as he was fully inside of you. His wings flared as you brought your hand up to one of them. You were always fascinated with how sensitive he was. He pulled out to the tip, and as your finger brushed against the inside of his wing he slammed back into you with a loud moan. Your vision blurred, not expecting the sudden pleasure.

“What did I say about that, love?” Azriel was breathing heavily. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy it when you touched his wings, he just tended to lose control when you did. He had no intention of causing any pain tonight.

“You know you don’t have to be gentle Az, I know you won’t hurt me,” He looked unsure, not completely trusting himself. You stoked his wing again, he pushed deeper into you forcing a moan from your lips. “Please,” You kissed him, showing how much you trusted him. He let out a sigh of relief and slowly pulled out, pushing back into you gently. His pace sped up with every thrust, moans and whimpers escaped his lips the more you touched his wings. The more you touched him the harder he went. His thrusts pushing you down into the mattress, not giving you any time to catch your breath. It felt amazing, you could feel the goosebumps raise in your skin, your second orgasm approaching quickly.

Azriel had raised himself, resting on his knees while holding your waist in his hands. He angled you upwards, the new angle making everything feel even better. You gripped onto his hands. Moans littered out of your mouth as your entire body went limp. You could feel the shock of your orgasm wash over you. Only being able to hear your husband's sounds. He came right after you, filling you up to the brim.

He stayed inside of you, not letting a single drop of his seed leak out of you. When you opened your eyes you saw that Azriel's cheeks were flushed and he was breathing heavily. “You should lose control more often, it’s very exhilarating,” you had a small smile on your lips, your hands resting on his.

“Don’t worry princess, we’ve only just begun our night together,” Azriel leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead, then flipped you around to your stomach. You supposed you were right, he was never satisfied with just one orgasm.

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel #reader smut #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel fluff #azriel smut #azriels shadows #anons<3

681 notes · View notes