Tumgik
#high lord rhysand
mischiefmanagers · 1 day
Text
Rhysand Fic Rec Library 🦇💜
"Rhysand is the most handsome High Lord. Rhysand is the most delightful High Lord. Rhysand is the most cunning High Lord."
here's a list of one hundred Rhysand x Reader and Rhysand x OC fics to celebrate the most handsome High Lord ✨
🌼 personal favorite 🥀 angst 💞 fluff 🔥 smut
by @sarawritestories
The Most Beautiful High Lady 🥀💞
You Looked Like You Could Use a Partner 💞
by @lalacliffthorne
starshine (series) 🥀💞
by @marvelsmylife
Not As It Seems 🥀💞
Protecting his high lady 🥀💞
I think I wanna marry you 💞
by @swansworth
The Handsome Stranger 🥀💞
My High Lady 🔥
by @writingsbychlo
how we survive 🥀 platonic Rhysand x Reader but it's AMAZING
Home To Us 💞🌼
How to Save a Life 💞
by @azrielsdove
The High Lords 🥀🔥
Til Death Do Us Part 🥀🔥
Money, Power, Glory 🥀
Beautiful Girl 🥀💞
by @historiaxvanserra
What Our Souls Are Made Of 🥀💞
by @honeybeefae
Pretty Little Tears 🔥
by @wishfulwithwine
The Great War 🥀
by @leafsandstarlight
Against Your Brother's Wishes 🥀💞
Easy Like Sunday Morning 💞🔥
Welcome Distraction 🔥
Little Reminders 💞
by @cherhys
Anything, Always 🥀💞
Colliding Visions 💞
by @k-daydreams
Touch in the Dark 🥀
by @azsazz
Dioxazine 💞
Lavender Haze
Hung Up 🔥
by @jeannineee
Pining 🥀
Daddy Kink 🔥
by @ughthatimagineblog
love and loathing 💞🔥
forever and a day 💞
by @fieldofdaisiies
I Never Mean to Hurt You 🥀
by @daydreaming-nerd
The Bonds That Break Us 💞🥀🔥
by @hellcat8908
Returning Home 🥀💞
by @thehighladywrites
This Isn't Goodbye, This Is Simply See You Later 💞🥀🔥
Just One More, I Know You Can Do It 💞🔥
by @lure-of-writing
Where my soul can rest 🥀
by @saphirered
The Ice Queen and the High Lord 🔥
May We Meet Again
by @bookish-whore
'Til Death 💞
Never Made A Difference 🥀
by @tadpolesonalgae
mine 🔥
Knocked up 🔥
by @itsphoenix0724
Promises 🥀
by @fanttasttica
I hate you more.. 🥀
Shy priestess 💞
Finding you 🔥
Your love healed me 🥀💞
Just love me 🥀
One plus one makes three 💞
by @illyrian-dreamer
Dance with the devil
Make a bargain with me 💞🥀
by @azrielbrainrot
My Body Keeps Saying it's Yours 🔥
by @b00kdiary
Dreamer
by @solbaby7
Lose Control 💞
Put On A Show 🔥
Testing the Waters 💞🔥🌼
by @luxsky
Kicking out 💞
by @themusingsofacurlyhairednerd
Warm Me Up 💞🔥
Datura
by @starstruckunknown-princess
Black Rose 🥀
by @acourtofwhatthefuck
Needs Must 🔥
With Me, Always 🥀💞
Shrinking Violet 🔥
Forget Me Not 💞
by @lanitalay
At sea 💞🥀
by @redheadspark
Truth 💞🥀
Carry 💞🥀
My Pleasure 💞
Title 💞
by @azrielslightintheshadows
Game night disaster 🥀
Between you and danger 🥀
by @danikamariewrites
Take Them All Down 🥀🌼
Only For You 💞
Pointless Meetings 💞
Pranks 💞
by @bloodycassian
winter court runaway
by @thevanserrras
The Stolen Night 🥀💞
by @thelov3lybookworm
Winter Without You 🥀
Love Needs No Voice
by @prythianpages
Wanna Be Yours 💞
by @milswrites
Out of the Mountain 🥀
by @readychilledwine
Requiem for a Dream (series) 🥀💞
Broken 🥀
Flight Patterns 🥀💞🌼
Subtle 💞
Scream 🔥
Plot Measure 🥀
Drumming Song 🔥
Family Matters 🔥
Pieces of You 🥀🌼
by @clairebear08
Questioning Motives 🔥
by @serpentandlily
Falling Apart for You 🥀
by @shadowdaddies
Heavy is the Head 🥀💞🔥
Crawl to Me 🥀🔥
by @throneofsapphics
if you insist 💞
surprise reunions 🔥
by @azriels-shadowsinger
Reunited 💞🥀
by batboylover
secretly mated 🥀💞
309 notes · View notes
Text
Most Delightful High Lord Incoming In...
5...
4...
3...
2...
1...
Rhys week is back for 2024 and with just as much excitement as ever! Please join us in appreciating our wonderful Rhys from August 18th through the 24th!
Prompts coming soon, see you guys in August!
Tumblr media
61 notes · View notes
Text
Trauma-Verse -- Part III
Rhysand
A/N: Rhys is hard to write for you know...
---
Summary: Rhysand wakes after a nightmare and struggles with memories of the past, whilst also grappling with the pressure of being High Lord.
Warnings: Allusions to rape, self-harm, nightmares, angst.
Pairings: Rhysand x Feyre
Word Count: 700
Darkness swirled and swarmed. It spread, thick inky blackness across the walls, creeping through the cracks of the door, sloughing off the furniture.
Rhysand had always kept things dark in the room with Her. He made sure of it. The only thing visible through the dim light her shock of red curls. It felt better that way. Safer. That way, he could squeeze his eyes tight enough to hurt, until the swirling colours that formed behind his eyelids took the shape of someone better.
Feyre’s face, hazy and unclear until he had finally found her that Calanmai night. After that, she was as clear as day.
He awoke suddenly from his nightmare: her nails raking down his back, Feyre’s face as she stared death in the eyes, Azriel’s hands, Cassian’s mother. Re-runs of every way he had failed his family.
His sister's screams of pain.
Rhysand emptied the contents of his stomach onto the floor, retching and gasping. Then grimacing he misted it away. He clutched his head in his hands until fingerprints marred his temples.
On shaky legs he staggered to the bathtub, wide enough to accommodate the wings that had sprung forth unprompted, his handle on his writhing magic weak. The water burned his skin as he sunk low, the overpowering scent of lavender rising with the steam. Rhys didn’t care. Didn’t care that as he scrubbed, his skin turned red raw beneath his hand.
It wasn’t enough to clean him. It could never be enough. The dirt was deeper than his skin, running through his blood, pooling in his magic. Infecting his soul. He could never scrub hard enough to rid him of it. But he kept scrubbing.
Before Her, when Rhys was younger, his brothers had been jealous. They tried to hide it, but he remembered clearly Azriel’s envied glances when his mother fussed over his clothes or ruffled his hair. Cassian took his things. Azriel pushed and shoved him. Perfect Rhysand. Prince Rhysand.
High Lord Rhysand.
He should be perfect. He had to be perfect. His nails broke the skin of his forearm. Hissing, he looked down, unfocused eyes watching the water turn red.
Footsteps hurried barefoot across the marble floor. Rhys barely reacted as soft hands smoothed across his shoulders and massaged the nape of his neck. Her hands had been rough, and cruel, with long nails that raked his skin. Feyre’s hands were small, and soft. Feyre’s hands were loving.
“Rhys.” She said, gently disapproving, “Rhys, your arm.”
Rhys sniffed, avoiding her eyes. Feyre clicked her tongue and he raised his head to see her standing with one hand on her hip. His perfect mate. His rock. He had disappointed her, yet again.
“Come on, Darling.” Feyre hauled him up, “Back to bed.”
Rhys shook his head.
“I can’t.”
“Then let’s sit on the balcony together, but no more boiling in the bathtub.”
Rhys relented. He knew better by now than to argue with his mate.
When dawn broke, Rhys’ arm had healed, and he was in bed. Feyre’s cold feet were pressed against his legs. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, but it must have been outside in the cool air of Velaris, Feyre holding him as they looked up at the stars. He wished he could stay forever with her, in her arms, hair tousled and eyes bleary with sleep. But High Lord Rhysand was perfect. High Lord Rhysand did what was expected of him. He rose early, brushed his hair and answered letters.
Cassian greeted him after training, hair falling loose in a way Rhysand could never allow his own to do. He leaned over Rhys and hugged him in his over-affectionate way, covering him in his sweat. Rhys wrinkled his nose, smoothed his clothes, glamoured his scent. Cassian laughed, but didn’t say anything.
He saw Azriel in the evening, at dinner. Feyre was sat with Nyx, spoon feeding him mashed potatoes whilst Mor chatted easily, carrying conversation that he couldn’t keep up with. Azriel was sneaking food onto Rhys’ plate. Adding a potato here and there, some roast beef off his own plate, an extra spoon of dessert.
Rhys frowned at his wife, suspecting her of spilling his secrets, but she simply smiled in return. He knew what she meant.
High Lord Rhysand was perfect. But Rhys didn’t have to be.
22 notes · View notes
acourtofquestions · 2 days
Text
Anyone ever laugh when re-reading human Feyre scenes with Rhys?😂 — because she has 0 shields, and no wonder Rhys knew they were mates… she literally hits on him every other line, even when unintentional… I mean, she actually thinks “the most beautiful man I’d ever seen” the first time/line they meet (as he later references/teases her with).
Even as a VERY traumatized High Fae with failing shields (going on a depressed monologue), she still says “Rhys- -Rhys with his smirking and sarcasm and bedroom eyes…” and NEVER manages to mention him without MAJORLY boosting his Daemati ego… no wonder his eyes “twinkled with bemusement as he beheld me.”🤣
21 notes · View notes
thehighladywrites · 17 hours
Text
who would you wanna kidnap, keep in your basement and make ur bf?
24 notes · View notes
solbaby7 · 26 days
Note
Hi! Could you write one where the reader somehow ingests a magic aphrodisiac while out on a mission. And she is in a ton of discomfort but her mate (any male maybe rhys) isn’t able to get there quickly so he gives cassian or azriel permission to give her some relief until he can arrive ?? :) a little angsty but also sexy
Blurred Lines
pairing: rhysand x reader x az
Tumblr media
warnings: swearing, boyfriend lets his best friend fuck his girlfriend, mentions of aphrodisiacs, probs typos
You’d felt uneasy, stomach churning like curdled milk after inhaling so much of the suspicious purple powder that had been blown in your face. “It burns,” Your body stumbles into Azriel’s, fingers pinching at your nose as you tried to ease the tingle that was beginning to prickle behind your eyes and nostrils.
He doesn’t answer for a moment, piercing eyes scanning the crowd for the figure cloaked in a red so deep it was nearly black but not even his shadows find a trace of them. “We need to get out of here. Do you have it?”
The thrum of the pages hum in the satchel strapped tightly beneath your arm. It had taken weeks to even locate a trace of them, just barely realizing anything was missing from the Book of Breathings until Nesta discovered the tattered remnants of torn pages tucked in the book spine. “I have it.” It comes out slightly slurred, your vision distorting as the powder began to take effect. The uncomfortable heat begins in your sinuses, spreading like venom in your bloodstream until every inch of your body felt like it was pressed up against the crackling flames of a fire. “Whatever that was—it’s really potent.”
Azriel grips you close, shadows cloaking your whole body until he’s winnowed you a safe enough distance away to properly evaluate you. “Gods, your eyes.” You squirm under the warmth of his hands. A simple touch sending every nerve into a frenzy and you’re abnormally aware of the steady throb between your thighs.
Your heartrate spikes, fingers slightly unsteady when snatching for the dagger strapped to your thigh and once you see your reflection it falls from your grasp. Embedded in the natural color of your iris was a smattering of shiny purple dots. “What the hell was that stuff?”
“I don’t know.” Azriel’s worry only grows, eyes glazing over as he no doubt was relaying everything that had happened to Rhys—to your mate. The very thought of him has arousal pooling between your thighs but the pleasant tingle of pleasure that usually followed is nowhere to be found. Every muscle seized with stress, fingers digging into your hair to alleviate the pulsing pressure all over. “Just hang on,” He pleads, holding you close despite your discomfort but there’s no other choice but to winnow as close as the wards around the safe house would allow. “Rhys is on his way.”
The words barely register, sweat beading at your hairline and even with the temperatures slightly lower than usual, the heat refused to subside. It radiates through your clothes, micro particles of sparkling purple transferring from your leathers to Az’s the longer he had to support your weight.
You scramble away from him the moment the door opens, fingers frantically pulling at the buttons keeping the tactical gear in place until it’s left in a heap on the floor. Gods, the floor. So cool against bare skin and the momentary relief is too good to even notice the fact that you were so exposed, the thin straps of the flimsy undershirt slipping down your shoulder; the hem hiking up the length of your stomach.
Vaguely aware of the sounds around you, the floor barely rumbles as Azriel shifted through the space. It was a little cramped but big enough for a kitchen and a bedroom with a small bathroom tucked within.
Too soon does the cool fade away, pained whines follow and every brush of your fingers against bare skin is worse than most other tortures you’d endured. It’s accidental, the scrape of your nail against your nipple through thin material and the moan that rips free is more like a choked cry. Every move after that feels like another is in control of your body, forcing your limbs to move, willing your fingers to trail beneath the waistband of your pants and past the soft cotton of your underwear.
“I ran you a bath—“ The rest is abruptly cut off, every single muscle in Azriel’s body going stiff at the sight of you sprawled out on the kitchen floor with so much skin on display. Golden eyes catch on the heaving fullness of your breasts spilling from the confines of your top, the frenzied hand tucked in your leathers and Azriel physically stumbles back when the intensity of your scent fully hits him. “Fuck.”
“I’m sorry,” Words slur together, frustrated tears falling down the curve of your cheeks and you’re too caught up in the temporary solace to be embarrassed about the crude behavior; the obscene squelching between your thighs. “I’m so sorry, I just can’t help it—hurts so bad.”
Azriel doesn’t reply, stunned in place and distantly he recognizes a familiar pressure in his brain. A feline voice laced with worry snapping him from his stupor. “Please tell me you’re close.”
“I need more time, Az.”
“She doesn’t have it,” The sight is pushed at Rhysand at warp speed, the sounds of his mate filling the conclaves of his mind.
There’s a pause, one that lasts a beat too long and Azriel begins to catch on to the plan his High Lord was brewing. “Then, help her.”
“Rhysand.”
“I trust you,” Rhys says a little softer, even if the words are laced with that territorial gruff. “Help her. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
He can’t move, even if his shadows slink forward at the permission given. They’re cautious before touching you, just barely ghosting over the curve of your shoulder and the whimper that it pulls makes Azriel’s stomach clench. You lean into the cool touch that comes with the wisps of darkness, back arching at the feeling. “Where’s Rhys?”
“He’ll be here, he just needs a little more time.”
More tears fall, even if you do nod in understanding but your thoughts muddy together, unable to differentiate one sentence from the next as you forgo pants altogether. “I can’t wait anymore, Az. Please.” You’re not sure what you’re asking for exactly but you’re positively certain that your fingers aren’t enough. “Please touch me.”
He says your name so softly, crooning soothing words and tucking your hair away from your forehead. “Are you sure?”
You don’t answer with words, just eyes half-lidded and grip surprisingly gentle when grabbing for his wrist, guiding his hand to the sodden mess between your thighs. Azriel can’t fight his reaction to the slick arousal coating his fingers through your lacy underthings, head dipping back and eyes daring to close—savoring the feel of you. “I need you to make me feel better,” You don’t even sound like yourself, tone whiny and desperate as you hike your shirt over your head. “Please, can you do that for me? Please, please, please.”
Your hips buck up into the pressure of his fingers against you, squirming uncontrollably as he slowly pulls the fabric to the side and the first swipe of skin on skin is almost enough to bring you over the edge. “Alright,” Your name on his lips sends your nerves into a frenzy, hips wiggling just enough for one finger to sink into your cunt and the relief is instant. “I’ll make it better, just breathe for me, okay?”
It’s a simple request and yet still you have difficulty obeying as you chase the icy chill that quenches the burning inferno. Another finger follows the first and Azriel can’t tear his eyes away from the way your spine curves with each delicious drag of them against your walls. “Yes,” It comes out in a near hiss, teeth biting at the fat of your bottom lip as you grope at your chest. “Feels so fucking good.”
Maybe Azriel indulged just a little, taking extra time exploring the spots at had your eyes going lazy and when moans shift into breathy whines—Azriel submits completely. The taste of you on his tongue was unlike anything than he could’ve imagined, warm and sweet against his tongue like cookies dipped in warm milk. A string of swears tumble from your lips so fast he briefly wonders if it’s another language. He hums all the same, low vibrations sending goosebumps along your flesh and shadows take the place of your hands. Kneading at supple breasts and tugging on pert nipples until the onslaught of pleasure has you tensing beneath him. “That’s it,” He mutters against your sex, acutely aware of the throbbing erection straining against the binds of his leathers. “Feel better?”
Your body answers for you, tugging him close enough to feel the hardness of his length against your pussy. “Need more, Az.” One long drag against the stiff material and he’s groaning into your neck, holding up his weight on two strong arms and you can’t help but think about them holding you up against a wall, fucking up into you until your lungs gave out.
Azriel stares down at you, eyes dark and lips parted as if he could see exactly what filthy things were flashing behind your eyelids. “Relax, pretty girl.” Shadows tug at the binds holding his pants in place, dragging them down, down, down. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, arousal pooling between your legs with a slutty squelch. “I’m gonna take real good care of you.”
1K notes · View notes
florencemtrash · 4 months
Text
Heads Will Roll | Azriel x Reader Oneshot
Warnings: Violence (aka Reader kills some fae and Rhysand and Azriel are 100% cool with it), fluff
One of Koschei's followers turns up to the Court of Nightmares prepared to make a bargain: your life in exchange for Ataraxia. But he'll soon learn that you are not to be underestimated, and you are always exactly where you want to be.
Tumblr media
Azriel bristled from behind Feyre’s shoulder when the male winnowed into the Court of Nightmares in a dramatic display of power that had everyone beneath the dais falling back.
He was all sharp lines, emboldened by the pure black silhouette of his cape that flared out behind him, teasingly parting to reveal the bone white sword strapped to his right hip that seemed to whisper with horrible power. The only piece of him that didn’t look like it was cut from death and destruction were his bright blue eyes - startlingly innocent and all the more unnerving for it. He fit in well with the violence the Court of Nightmares naturally radiated. 
Rhysand’s eyebrow curled up in a look of carefully crafted boredom from atop his obsidian throne. The only one who looked more nonchalant than him was Feyre. She tilted her head up, staring down the slant of her nose to the unknown male as he extended his arms and bowed as prettily as a bird. 
“Greetings.” Even his voice was sharp and cutting. “To the Lord and Lady.” 
Cassian frowned from behind Rhysand’s back at the omission of their proper title. To the outside, Rhysand was anything if not bored. Inside, he was ready to blow the male to bits. He wore Koschei’s stamp on his forehead, red and dripping like a fresh wound.
Neither the High Lord nor the High Lady deigned to reply.
The male only smiled. All teeth. 
“I come to you on behalf of my master.” His smile grew. More teeth. “You may have heard his name.” 
“Koschei.” The name rolled off Feyre’s lips as easily as if she were ordering a meal - blasé and unimportant. But the name shifted the energy in the room, stirring up hornet's nests of gossip. Heads bowed towards one another like grass stalks in the wind, whispering.
Feyre tapped one finger on her forehead, “He has a fondness for marking his followers.”
“Like a collar on a dog.” Rhysand finished. He stroked the bond, grounded by the feeling of Feyre’s very soul on the other side. She had always been - and always would be - his calm.
“My name is Darwynn.” The male tipped his white head, “And I bring news from my master. News you may find worthy of your time.” 
Azriel’s heart picked up in his chest. 
He knew what was coming - the words that would soon slip out of Darwynn’s mouth. You’d been gone for over a week and he felt your absence from his side as intensely as if someone had ripped the wings from his back. Empty, cold, and unbalanced.
For the first three days he hadn’t worried, even as the bond lay dormant in his chest. It wasn’t uncommon for you to hunt after secrets, unraveling mysteries like threads in a coat or diving into the unknown with an insatiable appetite.
Three days were nothing. But nine days was getting to be concerning.
“Go on.” Feyre said with a wave of her hand, looking more interested in the glass of wine in her hand than anything else. 
Darwynn reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin string of silver stained with blood - a necklace crafted from unbreakable metal with a deep blue pendant swaying like a pendulum. It was a piece of one of Azriel’s siphons, imbued with a small measure of his power and given to you as a Solstice gift after you’d accepted the bond. In the twenty years you’d been together, you’d never once taken it off. It was unnatural to see it swinging in the cruel male's hands.
Cassian growled. Azriel’s jaw clenched, beautiful brows lifting only ever so slightly in surprise. It was the only expression the Shadowsinger had shown all night.
Rhysand mirrored his expression. “Ahhhh yes, my sister. How long has she been missing for now, Az?” Rhysand looked back at him, some unspoken agreement passing through that brief glance. If this male had truly captured you, he would not be leaving this room with his head still on his shoulders.
“Nine days.” The Shadowsinger said, his mouth twitching to the side in a cryptic mix of a smirk and a snarl.
“You have her.” Feyre said. It wasn’t a question.
Darwynn’s eyes lit up with glee and he nodded, clapping his hands together like a child opening birthday presents.
“And what do you want for her? That is why you are here, is it not?” Feyre said once his “applause” ended.
Darwynn shook his finger at her, “It is comforting to know that since Amarantha’s trials, you’ve learned to - how shall I say this? Read between the lines.” 
“Careful.” Rhysand said, a warning trapped within that honey-laced word. Feyre’s illiteracy was hardly a concern for anyone anymore - Rhysand had seen to that - but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a subject that smarted and burned when prodded. 
Feyre’s dark red lips only turned up in a small smirk. Her mate would not allow any harm to befall her - even insults from pathetic creatures such as Darwynn.
"But I digress." Darwynn said silkily, “You should know she is uninjured-” 
“Obviously,” Cassian huffed under his breath, stealing a glance at his brother beside him. Azriel was handling this surprisingly well. If it were Nesta who’d been kidnapped and held for ransom, Cassian would not be able to school his emotions so readily. 
“And my master would like to make a trade.”
“A trade?” Rhysand said, displaying more interest in the subject than ever before. This was an opportunity to play Koschei’s hand. To gain whatever knowledge they could from the slippery sorcerer who was gaining more momentum each passing day. Koschei was still confined to his lake on the continent, but that didn’t mean he was powerless. No, not at all. 
Darwynn pointed a knowing finger at Rhysand’s belt where Ataraxia rested as silent as the death that hung over a deep winter’s night. 
“I see.” Rhysand said. 
So that’s what he wants. Feyre spoke to him through the bond, Some trace of Nesta’s power.
Y/n was right. He wants to leave the lake.
And he needs whatever power Nesta took from the Cauldron to do it.
Rhys hummed in thought, one finger lazily tracing the edge of his drink. He knew his sister, knew the power that raced through her veins, and she was not one to be trifled with. But people loved to underestimate her - the poor second child too weak and damaged to fight after losing her wings to the old High Lord of Spring. The female who rested on her brother’s strength and crown like a sapling tied to a stake. She wielded those assumptions carefully. It was perhaps one of her greatest weapons. 
Nine days. She’d been gone for nine days. Nine days since he’d sent her on a mission to the continent to spy on Koschei’s followers. Six days since anyone had heard from her. Three days since her scheduled return. 
Azriel stiffened and blinked - a movement so subtle that only Rhys, Cass, and Feyre noticed. All at once the tension left Rhysand's shoulders. Such a reaction from Az could only mean one thing - you'd arrived.
Rhysand clicked his tongue disapprovingly, taking a deep draught of his wine and muttered, “She’s late.” 
“She likes to be thorough.” Azriel said with the smallest of smiles.
“Even so. I don’t like to be kept waiting. She could’ve been captured sooner. Escaped earlier. Given us notice that she was coming.” He shook his raven black hair.
Azriel smirked, feeling the strength of the bond in his chest. Never wavering, “Maybe she finally decided to adopt your flair for the dramatic.” His golden hazel eyes flickered upward for the briefest of moments and you flashed him a quick smile from where you hid in the mountain rock above.
You’d only just opened your side of the bond, love and reassurance rolling over him like a flood. You were safe. You were whole. And you had carried out your plan beautifully.
Sorry to keep you waiting, my love. I had business to attend to. You spoke to your mate and only him.
I'd wait forever for you. You know that.
He felt your laughter through the bond like the fresh rain.
Who would've guessed the Spymaster's such a romantic.
Only for you. Only for you.
Darwynn narrowed his eyes, lips flattening into a thin line as pale as the moon. Something had changed in the air and he couldn't put his finger on it. This wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. He knew the Inner Circle were practiced in hiding their emotions but this… they almost looked pleased. Cassian especially was grinning like a madman, suppressing his laughter as Rhysand sent his thoughts to his mind.
“My master keeps good on his promises. But until you give me the bade, I can’t promise you what pieces of your wife there will be left to bring back.” Darwynn snarled, even as that feeling of dread grew in his stomach. He’d walked in here so confident. He needed to regain that confidence. He relaxed his shoulders. Stood up taller.
A wet thud echoed throughout the hall. Someone screamed - a female with blue-gray skin reeled backward, one hand clamped over her mouth in horror as she tripped over her blood-splattered silks. 
A decapitated head - warm, oozing, and less than a day old - lolled on the floor. Its eyes were frozen in a look of surprised horror. 
Darwynn’s heart stuttered to a stop when he recognized the bloated and bruised face. The face of one of his strongest males, left behind on the continent to watch over Koschei’s prison. 
Rhysand smirked and raised his wine glass towards Darwynn. The High Lord’s power flooded out over the room, knitting together a powerful web of magic that made it impossible for anyone to winnow in or out. Except for you of course - his darling sister who never failed to find the weak points in his magic and slip through as slyly as a cat. 
“There’s something you should know about my dear sister.” Rhysand’s voice boomed over the near-silent room without even trying.
A second head dropped from the ceiling. Then a third. Then a fourth. Laid out in a neat little arc around Darwynn.
“She never gets caught. She is always precisely where she wants to be.” 
Azriel’s eyes were trained on the slate gray arches overheard where he could just barely make out your form as you winnowed around the room, hiding in the shadows and dropping your gruesome packages in a neat circle around Darwynn’s shaking form.
The male unsheathed his sword, spinning around madly and counting every thud until all twelve of your guards were accounted for. 
All dead. 
All of them.
He growled dangerously, eyes beginning to glow a brilliant, icy blue as he aimed his power at the dais, right towards Rhysand. Azriel smiled with cruel satisfaction when you slipped out from behind Darwynn’s silhouette, bloodied and menacing. The knife glinted in the faelight, catching the curve of your arm as you spun around and drove the weapon through Darwynn’s eye. The light wrapping around him fizzled out into anything.
The male rocked on his feet, arms going slack and dropping the sword with a clatter on the ground. His legs gave out soon after, his body crumpling in on itself as easily as paper. 
You calmly rolled down the sleeves of your blood-soaked shirt, flicking a piece of gore off your shoulder in a manner so similar to Rhysand that your brother couldn't help but chuckle. 
You flashed him a grin - a stroke of white brushed across a red splattered canvas. 
“Brother.” You said, tipping your chin up in a show of greeting. 
“A bit dramatic, don’t you think, sister?” Rhysand gestured out to the Court of Nightmares. You spared them a look. Everyone looked positively sinful in their scraps of silk and exposed skin, silent and trembling as their dinners burned their way up from their stomachs to their throats.
You shrugged and winked at Rhys, “I learned from the best.” 
“Go get cleaned up.” He said. It was a clear and direct command, but you didn’t miss the warmth and hint of pride in his voice.
“As my High Lord commands.” You said, bowing deeply. 
At home. Rhysand spoke in your mind as you straightened. Get some rest. You did well.
You sighed in relief, happy that you would be free from whatever Court of Nightmare business left to attend to.
Thank you.
There was a brief pause before Rhysand continued, But next time you plan to get kidnapped, let me know. I was actually starting to worry and I’m not sure my old heart can take it.
You snorted, I’ll keep your elderly constitution in mind next time.
You dipped your head once more before winnowing to the River House. The smell of home nearly knocked you off your feet.
There would be more time to joke around with your brother - more time to tell him everything you’d learned - but right now you were in desperate need of a bath.
______________
You sank into your third bath of the night, groaning in pleasure as the hot water rolled over your aching muscles. The first two baths had purely functioned to scrub off the dried blood from your hair and skin. The majority of it wasn’t yours. But this bath, with all the fragrant oils and scents, was for enjoyment and relaxation.
It was no easy business getting kidnapped, and no easy business escaping. But like every other mission, you’d made away like a bandit in the night, carrying with you priceless pieces of knowledge and enough secrets to demolish an entire court. 
Your eyes flickered open at the feeling of shadows lacing around your arms, soothing your skin with a cool touch that was no replacement for the hands that followed. 
Finally your mate had decided to join you.
You sighed in happiness as Azriel trailed his fingers up your arms, scarred hands landing at your neck and gently tilting your head back so he could plant a firm kiss on your lips.
The bond sang within your chest more joyfully than a songbird. You didn’t like silencing this connection, you didn’t like shutting Azriel out, but sometimes your work necessitated it. It was for your safety as much as his. But no one understood that more than the Spymaster of the Night Court.
“Hello, my love.” Azriel’s voice vibrated through the air, warming your chest and shaking your bones. 
“Hello, Azriel.” You murmured, soapy hands trailing through his raven black hair so that he was completely surrounded by your scent.
“Gods, I missed you.” He said. He knelt on the tiled floor behind you, wrapping his arms around your bare chest as he buried his face in your neck and breathed you in. “I missed you so much." A kiss on your neck, "So, so much.”
“I missed you too.” You murmured, pulling him around to the side of the tub so that you could see him better. You traced the faint purple bruises beneath his eyes. Not an unfamiliar sight. Azriel had never been a restful sleeper, but since mating and marrying you, he’d been spoiled rotten and now could barely sleep a wink without you curled up in his arms. 
“Sorry I messed up your hair.” You apologized, twirling the now damp strands of his hair so they curled around your fingers. 
He smiled. It was a rare sight to anyone other than you, but seeing him happy never ceased to warm your bones.
“You did well, darling.” He said, smoothing back your hair before saying more seriously, “But next time could you tell me your plans before you shut me out?” 
You winced. “I’m sorry. There wasn’t time.”
“I figured as much.” Azriel said, kissing your cheeks to show that he wasn’t upset. You leaned into his touch as he traced your cheekbones with his thumbs. 
You were the most precious thing in the world to him. More precious than his wings. More precious than his freedom. More precious than the 500 hundred years it had taken him to finally realize what you were to him. The thought of losing you was more painful than a knife to the stomach.
“You can trust me.” You said, “I know how to handle myself.” 
Azriel chuckled and shook his head, “I am very well aware of both those things,” He tilted his head in thought, “And I’m fairly certain everyone else also knows now.” 
You blushed, “Maybe it was a bit much.” 
Azriel shrugged, “Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is one thing.”
“And what is this one thing?” You asked, leaning forward and capturing his lips in another kiss. He tasted like cedar and rain. He tasted like home.
“That you should never be afraid of showing your power. Never. No matter what happens. No matter what people say.” 
His hand that had been cradling the back of your neck moved down, tracing the scars on your shoulder blades where your wings had once been. You shivered under his touch, but didn’t recoil. He understood. He was perhaps the only person who understood what it meant to have such a physical piece of yourself taken away. 
You kissed his hands, taking care to feel every valley beneath your lips and worship them. They were a part of him now, tied to him as much as his shadows were, and so how could you not love them? How could you not love him? This male who was your equal in every way imaginable and who made you feel happier and safer than you ever thought possible. 
He helped you out of the bathtub, drying your skin and hair before carefully brushing through all the tangles and knots. 
“I should go report to Rhys.” You said with little determination as Azriel laid you out on the bed and then crawled under the covers beside you, pulling you against his chest and wrapping you both under the protective cover of his wings.
“Let it wait until tomorrow. Let me have you tonight.” 
You smiled, “I’ve only been gone nine days.” 
His hazel eyes melted into yours. “Nine days too long, Y/n.” 
You could never deny him anything when he looked at you like that, so full of feeling and a rawness too intense for words. And it wasn’t like you were dying to leave this bed and chase after your brother. Like Azriel had said - it could wait until tomorrow. So you melted into his arms and watched as Azriel slowly fell into a deep sleep for the first time in nine days.
______________
Author's note:
A woman covered in the blood of her enemies is *chef's kisses*
That's it. That's the note.
971 notes · View notes
ellievickstar · 21 days
Text
Maddening.
A/N: This one...this one hurt. yeah. uhm. Peace out ig find out for yourselves heheeheheh. hehehe, I'm not sorry. I got bored during math lesson.
Summary: Based on this idea I had. When the reader goes mad from what she is feeling from the bond while Azriel is unfaithful, how will everyone react when she is gone..?
Request: N/A
Pairing: Cheating!Azriel x reader, Brother!Rhysand x reader
Warnings: Unedited, angst, character death, a desk was thrown, Elain slander. kinda Azriel slander???? idk.
⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆
It.
Was.
Maddening.
“Stop, stop it please,” You sobbed into the night, the shadows that were once something you loved swirling around you and tugging you in every direction. You knew. They knew. And right now you could feel his pleasure, his love for someone else, and you tried desperately to shut down your mind, to put up those walls of mental shields you had trained for years to do. But your daemati powers only amplified what was projected down this bond and it was maddening.
“PLEASE,” You yelled, your hand grasping at your hair as you pulled in frustration, your nausea rising in your throat as you felt his pleasure again. Again. Again.
RHYS.
Screaming into the night, reaching for that tether between your brother and Cassian and you.
CASS. RHYS. PLEASE.
One way or another you opened the drawer beside your bed and metal flashed against the moonlight.
I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.
You choked on your sobs, your anguish flooding out your mind in every direction, you shakily grasped the hilt of the dagger as you raised it and brought it down in one fell swoop.
Little Starlight…?
Your brother’s voice rang in your mind, but as you felt the mating bond tear, relieving you of that constant wave of nauseating pleasure, as the shadows around you surged in their frenzy, warmth coating your abdomen, your hands and you slowly glanced down at the blood trickling out of you.
With what was left of your strength you tugged the dagger out, and blood gushed free flowing.
I’m sorry…
Was all you whispered back to your brother, and all you heard last was the door behind you being flung open, and the frantic voices of your brother and Cassian.
⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆
“Why…why would you,” Rhysand shakily dropped back into his chair, his office torn apart after what had happened with his sister. Cassian’s dark expression hung on his face, his shoulders low and even Nesta did not dare say another word. Feyre hung behind Rhys, her eyes darting around the room, at how damaged everything was, the extent of her mate’s grief and anger, his sorrow.
Azriel stood beside Elain, and Feyre was almost sick to her stomach at how strong the smell of sex was permeating off both of them.
Rhys’s eyes were dead and hollow as he looked up at someone he once considered his brother.
“WHY? She was…she was..”
⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆
When they were 15….
You hastily jumped in front of Cassian and Azriel, your wings coming to materialise as you flared them and yelled, “Stop hurting them!” The kids who had been making fun of Azriel’s hands stumbled backwards, realising who they stood before, the princess of the Night.
“Don’t listen to them, I think your hands are beautiful,” You smiled shyly at Azriel as they ran away, glaring at the kids one last time for good measure. Cassian let out a cheer, swinging you around as he celebrated your ‘amazing victory that brought them to tears’.
And as you glanced Azriel’s way, you could not help but blush at his gaze, your attention soon stolen by your brother who had arrived and lectured you on being more careful when showing your wings.
⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆
Starfall before the mountain…
“Rhys….?” You knocked on the door of your brother’s office gently.
“Come in little starlight,” You heard your brother’s voice.
Entering the room, you paused as Cassian and Azriel’s gaze fell upon you, now feeling heat rise to your face at the way you were dressed.
Morrigan had decided to force you into a dark blue gown, the swoop of the neckline leaving enough for the imagination but also something to marvel at. The sleeves were off the shoulder — something you had taken to recently and she had noticed — and the skirt was floor length with a slit that did everything for your bare legs.
You had wanted to come here to get a second opinion from Rhys about the dress and any matching heels.
“You look gorgeous Little Starlight,” Giving you a thumbs up, Rhys beckoned you to come in.
Maybe I don’t need your opinion.
Just ask.
Does this dress paired with black or blue heels make your best friend want to screw me?
Blinking, your brother hummed, Cassian burst into laughter, clearly getting the message from Rhys while Azriel just looked at his two brothers confused.
Black heels, with a choker, from what I’ve heard Azriel is not tame.
I didn’t say him.
You didn’t need to.
That night Azriel had caved and confessed to you, even going so far as to informing you that you were his mate, a mating ceremony was held a week later and you had never been happier. And for a moment you had grasped onto the thought that this could be forever.
⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆
Rhysand swallowed as he started to recall all his memories from the past, tears streaming down his face as he sobbed into his palm once more, his head hung low as he hunched over his desk.
“Rhysand I apologise for what I have caused…” Azriel tried but was immediately cut off by Cassian.
“You only apologise now because of what happened. Where was your guilt when she was alone in her pain after the war? Where was your guilt when you were picking flowers with Elain,” He spat her name like it was poison making her visibly flinch, “Where was your guilt when you decided that your mate was no longer worthy of your affection?”
Azriel’s gaze hardened, “I might have chosen to bed Elain but that does not mean-”
“THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT IT MEANS!” Cassian roared back, his shoulders were shaking, shaking, from how hard he started to cry.
Trying to calm the situation down, Elain stepped forward, "You can't say that just because they were mates it means he betrayed her by loving someone else."
Nesta scoffed at her own sister's words.
"Are you mad?" Nesta asked, disbelief coating every word, "Have we sheltered you so much that you have become this ignorant? Someone is dead because of your selfishness Elain, and you have decided to defend your actions?"
Elain rolled her eyes, "Don't be dramatic, Nesta, killing herself was just her being selfish thinking she was entitled to-" A knife cut across her cheek and the dagger landed against the wall, sinking deep enough to signal what could have happened to Elain's face.
"Speak again, girl," Amren hissed, "And I won't miss."
It was then that Rhysand spoke.
“My sister is dead,” His tone was flat, monotone, stiff to the point it made everyone in the room flinch, Mor who had been beside Nesta immediately placed a shield over the female, Feyre doing the same for herself as part of Rhysand’s desk went flying at Azriel’s head. No one protecting Elain beside him, not even Azriel himself.
Rhysand rose from his seat, his frantic pacing as he gripped at his hair, laughing, laughing as he sunk to the ground and screamed his next words. “My sister is dead and there is nothing, no amount of apologies, no amount of guilt, no amount of begging that can bring her back. DO YOU HEAR ME SHE IS DEAD!” Stilling, he finally raised his head, his hard gaze set on Azriel, his eyes still shining with tears.
“Get out of my court, Azriel.”
Panic shone in the shadow singer’s eyes. He stepped forward but was met with an invisible wall, Feyre. In Rhysand’s words Feyre had raised the wall to separate Azriel and Elain from the rest of the room, their only route was out…
“I never want to see you, or Elain again. Because if I do I will kill you. I will kill you and cauldron help me I will make you suffer. Get out of my court, find somewhere else who will accept someone who betrayed their mate.”
And with that Azriel and Elain were pushed out of Rhysand’s office, the hallway empty and dark save for both of them, and the only sound was Rhys’s anguished roar that followed.
⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆
A/N: Sooooo how did you like it? :)
Taglist: @kemillyfreitas @going-through-shit @chessebookgirl
519 notes · View notes
rainingriversofyou · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
“When you spend so long trapped in darkness, Lucien, you find that the darkness begins to stare back.”
- A Court Of Mist And Fury
Artist: l.moon_art
617 notes · View notes
lyssasdrafts · 1 month
Text
notice how every man in acotar is a mama’s boy. rhys hated his dad and only liked his mom and sister, cassian’s mom is the reason he’s fought so hard and he thinks about her all the time, azriel talks fondly of his mom and thinks about her in the way he treats other people, and lucien and eris… don’t get me started they are the biggest mama boys and always protecting lady autumn.
441 notes · View notes
acourtofwhatthefuck · 10 days
Text
Needs Must — Rhysand x Reader
While I put the finishing touches to the next part of Bluebird, enjoy this Rhys x Reader that I got a sudden burst of inspiration to finish this morning!
Summary: War changes everything, and the human-fae war changed the trajectory of your life completely — most pointedly decimating the relations between you and those closest to you. It’s been a long while since you’ve seen your brother, Cassian, and your friends. But that’s all about to change.
Warnings: Suggestions of solicitation/sex work/brothels. Nothing else, really!
Word Count: 1.5k
Enjoy! 💕
Tumblr media
It’s all pointless, you think — the red velvet drapes, the burning candles, the sandalwood-scented smoke that clouds the air and creates a thick layer of fog that hovers just above the shag carpet. Pointless, because no amount of pretty décor will change Salt’s Pleasure Hall from the vacuous and miserable place it is.
Not miserable for you, no. There is no misery in the hefty sum of gold you’ll take home on a night. You are a master of pretty smiles and hooded gazes and saying all the right things that desperate, lonely males wish to hear. There is so much coin to be had in feigning interest and attraction. Bringing their fantasy to life for a night. There is talent in making them feel as though you’ve bared yourself to them, without having removed a single item of clothing.
And to think you once begged your older brother to train you, make you like him. Turn me into a weapon like you are, Cassian. We cannot change what filth sired us. But we can stamp it out from our blood and be better, be more.
And oh, he’d trained you, alright. Turned you into a weapon. Into something he was so fucking proud of. You knew the pride it had once brought him to strut around Illyrian lands with you at his side, clad in leathers just as he was, armed to the teeth just as he was. His way of showing off that he had done something good, something useful.
Oh, how things have changed. How the mighty have fallen.
For all you are confident, comfortable, used to the job you have now worked for some time, you are nervous tonight.
Tonight is different. Tonight is territory that has so far been untouched. Tonight, this room of velvet and silk and sensuality is your domain.
The Juniper Suite is part of the most expensive package that Salt’s Pleasure Hall has to offer. The package is similar to your usual night’s work in that you will smile prettily and pour drinks and ply whichever lonely male arrives with mindless conversation.
The difference is that in Juniper, those things lead to sex. And this is the first time since becoming one of Salt’s girls that you’re crossing that boundary.
So, yeah, you’re a little bit nervous. But — needs must, and all that.
With a soft sigh and butterflies dancing around in your belly, you slowly pace the circumference of the room, stopping every now and then to study the weird little trinkets that Salt has picked up over the years. A strange mishmash of things that you suppose he thinks creates a certain ambience. But tiny metal lions and old, fraying maps will be the furthest thing from your client’s thoughts when the two of you sink into the feathered sheets.
They will be here any minute, and for the first time since you started your work here, you allow yourself to wonder what they might be like. You never usually bother, because the other girls warned you on day one what to expect — that this place attracts a certain clientele, and that never wavers.
So, your guest will likely be far older than you. He will likely have dark smudges beneath his eyes and the weight of the world on his shoulders. There will likely be the faint mark of a removed wedding band on his left ring finger. He will likely want to talk to you about why he is a victim of life itself.
And you will coo sympathetically and pour him drinks, drag your hand down his arm and hold his hand. You will let him know how sorry you feel that life is so cruel to him. You will offer him the bliss of touch and feel, and make him think, for a short while, that you genuinely care about his shortcomings.
And then when he hands you the heavy pouch of coins you so desperately covet, you’ll switch it all off.
You swallow down another sigh and cross the room to the small, compact bar in the corner. You need a stiff drink yourself, something to settle your nerves—
But a knock lands on the door, and there’s no time.
For a split second, you doubt whether you can go through with this. Playing hostess for a few hours is one thing, but giving your body to a client is something you’ve never had the courage to do, despite the extra coin it would bring. But — needs must. You repeat it to yourself as you stride to the door. Needs must, needs must, needs must. You can do this.
You brace yourself, feeling suddenly too hot and sticky in the scant clothing that covers you — a pink lingerie set, barely covered by the sheer robe that sits open and threatens to slip down your arms. You are beautiful — and strong and sexy and confident. This is your body to do with whatever you want. And if this is the course you are taking, that is fine. This will be fine.
You lay your palm on the handle and yank the door open before you have to give yourself another pep talk.
But at the sight of who stands on the other side, you freeze. Your lips part in surprise.
A pep talk is not what you need — but rather a huge hole to open in the floor and swallow you down.
“What the fuck?”
It takes you a moment to realise that you’ve uttered those three words at the exact same moment your client did — Rhysand did.
He’s just like when you last saw him, but…older, now. Even though you were adults back then, too, he seems…more mature, somehow. He’s regal and stunning and night itself.
And fuck, he’s High Lord of the Night Court now.
And yet he’s ruffled, as he takes you in, gapes at you. Neither of you know what to do.
His eyes dip down to what you’re wearing, before travelling back up to your face. And he blurts, “Pixie?”
Pixie. You haven’t heard that name in years. The fond nickname that both Rhys and Azriel had coined for you, because you were so much like Cassian and yet so much smaller, a little pixie buzzing around.
But you are not her anymore. You haven’t been her since before the human-fae war. You had changed, just like the others had changed.
And the new you doesn’t need to explain to an old friend what has brought you to a pleasure hall in Sangravah. Nor does that old friend need to explain what’s brought him here, either. You owe him nothing. He owes you nothing.
But the situation is so bizarre that your mind freezes. You don’t know what to do. All you know is that you do not want to be in front of him, almost naked. You do not want to look him in the eye. The mere thought is humiliating.
So you move fast and try to slam the door shut in his face. You don’t care what kind of reprimand Salt will give you because of it.
But, of course, he is Rhysand, and may you never forget that. He’s quick as lightning, something about him always having been wildly feline. He always bested you when you sparred, always had the upper hand.
He has the upper hand now as he wedges his foot in the door and stops it from closing.
You grit your teeth, feeling just like when you used to bicker with him in Illyria as you bite out, “Move your fucking foot.”
“No,” Rhys snaps, shoving it in further. “Open the fucking—” he growls as he shoulders himself forward. “Pixie.”
“Don’t call me that. Go away—”
You’re not exactly sure what happens next. Either he loses his footing, or you do, or perhaps you both do. All you know is that the door is swinging fully open, and your balance is suddenly off, and Rhysand’s hand is gripping onto you as you fall backwards. Your attempts to right yourself are far too late and seem to make it worse. Down you go to that musty shag carpet, and down Rhysand goes with you,
Air whooshes from your lungs as he lands on top of you, far too close than is comfortable when you’re wearing so little clothing. You attempt to sit up, shove him off you.
But he holds you firm and stares at you with wide eyes. His face is inches from yours. He gives what seems to be a baffled shake of his head.
“Pix, what the fuck?” he blurts.
Tumblr media
351 notes · View notes
bubbles-for-all-of-us · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
Shut up... that's the most accurate Rhys I've ever seen. Alright Papi how are you doing?!?!
All credits to the owner if anyone knows who the art belongs to let me know so I would properly shout them out.
579 notes · View notes
tadpolesonalgae · 6 months
Text
Rhysand x reader: Knocked up[*]
A/N: This 🤝 Rhys just makes me so happy
Warnings: smut, breeding kink😋, slight praise kink I guess?
Word count: 1,163
“Come on…darling…a little deeper…”
He’s pushing the very air from your lungs, cock pressing so deliciously against your walls, filling you from the inside up. A whimper spills from your lips, the pads of your fingers digging into the firmness of his abdomen. Thighs spreading a little wider, muscles spasming as your head lowers, pants puffing heavily from your mouth.
“Rhys…” you breathe, heavenly heat turning you dim. “Rhys…!”
His hand cups your cheek, guiding your gaze to his, star-flecked violet dancing and gleaming. “There you are…a little more for me…yeah…?” His tan skin is flushed, breathing as uneven as your own, equally near the edge. “Think you can sink down…a bit more…?”
You watch through half-lidded eyes as his stomach rises and falls with the depth of his breaths. How fluid he is, blessed with feline grace.
Biting your lip, you slide down the final inch. Pleasure crests over you, resting your entire weight on his cock, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as you—
“Woah there…”
His hands firmly grip your hip and shoulder, keeping you upright as euphoria knocks you clean from your feet. “Hey…hey, darling…look at me,” Rhys breathes, murmuring to you as you’re pulled from your stupor. “That’s it…there you go…so good, aren’t you…?”
You whimper, rolling your hips over his, both of you hissing at the concentration of pleasure. Hands go slightly limp, steadying yourself as you lean forward, spine curving. “Mmm…Rhysand…” You drag over him, eyes fluttering closed in quiet bliss. His grip tightens, one hand leaving from your shoulder, grasping the soft swell of your breast, thumbing your sensitive nipple. Flicking over its tip, grazing the crest.
“Feeling good…? Like riding me…darling?” He pants, eyes glued to your joining point, obscene squelching sounds tingling his pointed ears, like lovely silver bells. “That’s it…take it nice and deep…nice and deep…to fill you up…”
A high-pitched moan spills from your lips, gentle and needful, pawing at the soft skin of his stomach, underlined with muscle. “Deeper…take you deeper…” you pant, opening your eyes long enough to search for his hands. You swirl your hips with fervour, small bucks as you pleasurably squirm, having him hit all the good spots.
“That’s it…” he murmurs, fingers linking tightly with your smaller ones, allowing you to cling onto him as you ride his hips. “Such a good girl…aren’t you, darling?” He squeezes your knuckles and a quiet whine bursts from your lungs, spilling into the world, adding to the intimate eroticism.
“Rhys…” you whine, “Rhys…I need you…” A rough moan pulls from his chest, urgent and lustful. “How do you need me?” He breathes, “tell me what you want…” Your hips buck faster, and you flinch, air knocked from your lungs at the wave of pleasure. Lips part as your eyes flutter shut, head tipping upward as you bask in him. “Breed me…” you pant, softly. Quietly. Hardly a whimper.
He grips your hands, a reassuring heat to your nerves, rolling his hips up into you. The world turns foggy, and your body is heated butter, melting beneath the hot press of his fingertips, coating his scar-flecked skin like a protective seal. Like hot wax spilling from a candle, dripping and burning.
“Yeah? Want me to breed you?” He murmurs, watching you with wonder, head resting in the plush pillows of your bed. Teeth find your lower lip, rocking your hips faster, winding over his cock. You nod lethargically, almost drowsily, bucking onto him.
Rhysand groans, raising to meet you, touching deeper, hidden spots that have you tightening around him. Eyes squeeze shut, brow furrowing in concentration. Following the pathway that will lead you both to that wonderful dissipation of tension, pleasure flooding your bodies.
Your lips part in quiet surprise as he targets those spots with heartwarming familiarity. “Rhys…” you pant, “Rhys…!” Breathing becomes shallower, and he drags your hips over his, helping guide you, giving you the strength to move. “Come on…you can do it…give it to me.” The whispered murmurs graze your mind, basking in the swell of his cock as it presses up inside of you. Like you belong together. Perfectly fitted to slot together.
“Do it…give it to me…then I can fill you up…yeah? That’s what you want… For me to spill into you…and stuff you full of my cum…” The filthy words make you tighten around him, and you’ve tipped over the edge. Enjoy the few seconds as you soar to the peak, having taken off on sun-kissed wings. “So good at taking me…” he purrs, violet eyes latching onto yours, dark talons grazing your wobbly shields, tender and sensitive from stimulation. You hit the stars, colliding, sending galaxies spraying, nebulas bursting across your skin. His cock glides against your sensitive walls, dragging so deliciously as you reach your peak.
The moan you release sends him spilling over the edge, spurting into you as he groans, gripping you back as your fingers tighten together.
“So good…so good, aren’t you?” He murmurs, “take everything…every drop…drink it all up. So good.” The pleasure doubles…triples with every caress of him inside of you, feeling the hot, milky liquid spill into you, latch onto you, nestling deep. “That’s it…take all of it…make sure it sticks…” he groans, colour tinting his glistening skin. “Gonna fill you up so good…make sure you carry it…tucked away, to nestle inside that lovely cunt.”
You flutter around him, sporadically bucking your hips in gentle surges, moving whenever your muscles allow you to. “So perfect…doing so well…so good to me, aren’t you?” His fingers squeeze yours through the aftershocks, letting you ride out your pleasure as he grits his teeth. He wants to be gentle with you tonight, so he pushes away that urge to flip you onto your back, to worship your pretty pussy with rough, hard strokes of his cock.
Rhysand moans with you as the waves fade to gentle tingles beneath your skin, settling down on his hips, panting heavily. You move to shift off of him, but he holds you a little firmer. “Can’t have it leaking out, can we?” He breathes, rolling his hips against you. A whimper spills from your lips at the action, squeezing his knuckles as he keeps your hands preoccupied. Thighs too weak to lift off him, you’re unable to move by yourself, remaining sat on top of him, cock pressing deep inside.
“Thought you wanted it to stick, huh?” He purrs softly, thumb stroking over the bone of your wrist. “Wanted to get knocked up…to let it take root?”
Teeth push into your lip, biting it as you wind your hips over his.
You can feel it as he stiffens inside of you, turned on by the slightest stimulation.
Ready for round two.
General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022
Rhys Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger
753 notes · View notes
faeries-child · 24 days
Text
🌹Laid bare before you 🌹
Tumblr media
Pairing: Rhysand x reader
Warnings: smut
Summary: Rhys wanting to make sure you definitely know how much he respects and cherises you.
This text is a example of what happens when I start writing at 2am and wake up in the moring to actually read what I have written. All the mistakes make me cry :,)
Tumblr media
“Don’t ever do that again.”
He was on top of you, trusting into you with lethal force. His pace was not fast, but he rammed himself so deep into you that you knew that no one else could ever erase the feeling of him in you.��
Only thing you could do was to try to hold on to his hands, and those toned biceps that were currently next to your face, his palms tangled in your hair. 
“Don’t ever again avoid me because you think that I don’t value your privacy”
You could not answer him, for the pleasure he was giving you made you lose your words and took the breath out of your lungs. In truth you had not avoided him, your just found mate, your everything because you thought that he had intruded your privacy, you knew that he would never do that to you. Especially since how he was now doing his best proving that to you. 
While continuing to thrust into you, he slipped his hand around you and hoisted you up on his lap, his length still remaining inside you. He trailed his nose along your shoulder and neck, smelling you and keeping you as close to him as he could. 
“You avoiding me was the worst thing that I have ever felt, and I have been alive for a very long time.” 
Finally he stilled and you could catch your breath, after so many orgasms for both of your accounts, you had to place your hands on his shoulders to balance yourself.
“Rhys” you panted. 
Immediately you had his full attention and his violet eyes were staring straight into you. “Yes darling?” Hint of uncertainty and maybe even fear could be heard in his voice. In his mind he thought that did he go too far, too rough with you. Or maybe you had started to regret accepting the mating bond. However, you eased his worries: “You have it all wrong, I did not avoid you for that. I… I avoided you today because of your daemati powers.”
“My powers?”
Recently you had realized that Rhys could actually have a straight access to your mind whenever he pleased, and that had scared you. You had so much darkness in you, ugly thoughts, vulnerable thoughts. What if that would disgust him? What if he would leave because of that.
“I just felt so laid bare in every sense of the word. What if what you saw in me wasn’t beautiful? What if you could not handle knowing that I have so much dark lurking inside me”
He just looked at you with loving eyes, you still on his lap and said: 
“I am the high lord of the night court. And I doubt my love, that there would ever be darkness so terrifying that it would chase me away from you.”
I hope you enjoyed!
(I will later make some corrections on the grammar)
249 notes · View notes
sugairsstuff · 25 days
Note
Hii,
I have a request I love protective Rhys so can you do a Rhys x reader where someone insults her and Rhys gets all overprotective and angry, like how dare they insult my mate🤭
I hope you have a great day and thank u for writing it
Bye❤️
i’m sorry for taking so long to write this! i hope you enjoy my spin on the prompt <3
i’m flattered
rhysand x fem/reader
warnings: none
description: a noble has quite a lot to say regarding your appointment to high lady. as much as you’d like to do it yourself, your loving mate swoops in to put them in their place.
Tumblr media
Coming to the Court of Nightmares to play pretend in these political dances veiled in the disguise of a party was never something you were excited about through all your immortal years of knowing Rhysand. So, naturally, you were feeling an extra weight of anxiety now that you would be attending as the High Lady of the Night Court—therefore a major piece in what was originally just Rhysand and the Court of Nightmare’s game of chess. You understood your mate morphed himself into an entirely different person as he believed that the one way to keep this imbalanced section of the Night Court under order was to keep them intimidated with the illusion of a cruel leader—for who would challenge someone who held no moral bounds?
While your mate had years—if not centuries—of practice in carefully carving this mask to wear at a ball that wasn’t even a masquerade, you had only been High Lady for two years. Before that, you kept your head low or simply did not attend the events held in this part of the court. It goes without saying that you were extremely prone to criticism, which was especially worrying in a place that was kept under control through the guise that they were not allowed to question their authority.
Alas, your lover insisted that it would be better for you to attend with him. Rhysand promised that you were safe there in his company (and that the food and drinks would be to your liking), while urging that it was better to show your face and prove that these Fae did not make you afraid than stay behind and let them mumble amongst themselves. Because, of course, this court was no longer run by only the High Lord, so now you needed to demand respect as well.
Standing in the mirror, you decide that at least it was somehow easing to be wearing such an elegant gown to the ball. With long sleeves and a deep plunge, your black dress hugs your curves and falls over your hips to the floor. You thought it was a nice touch that the ends of the long skirt are flecked in white that gave the illusion you had just waded through a pool of stars. Your hair is done up nicely as well to flaunt your neck and the silver jewels decorating it, the light piece of jewelry falling deep on your chest.
“I’m wondering if bringing you may be a mistake after all,” a familiar voice hums lovingly behind you. You whirl around from the mirror, brows furrowed as you watch your mate expectantly for an explanation.
Rhysand chuckles, raising his hands in a surrendering gesture as he pushes himself off of the doorframe he was leaning against, “You are one beautiful distraction, darling. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to stay focused on politics when I have the brightest star in Prythian right at my side. That’s all.”
You roll your eyes regardless of the fact you’re now sure you didn’t need to put blush on when doing your make up earlier. “Oh, yeah, cover it up, Mr. High Lord,” you huff in faux annoyance, though perhaps some real insecurity.
Rhysand was quick to notice that, and even quicker to invade your personal space by wrapping an arm around your waist and guiding you to his chest. “Don’t forget Mr. High Lord needs his Mrs. High Lady there,” he coos, grinning when his cheesy words evoke a sweet laugh from your lips.
You decide to change the topic rather than continue to brood over the inevitable reality of the ball you are about to be an unwanted spotlight in. “Is everyone else ready?” you ask, thinking of your friends who also are expected to be attending due to political reasons. Azriel, Cassian, and even Mor were always expected to at least show their faces.
Rhysand nods idly, clearly too distracted by you to shift his mind to be thinking about them. “They’re waiting, but I’m sure they won’t mind it if we’re a little late,” he says, grinning like a feline as he leans down over you to try and capture your lips with his. You evade Rhysand’s flirtatious attempts to seduce you by leaning back and resting your palm against his chest.
“Nuh-uh. No way am I being late to this thing,” though you pause and return his playful grin, “though if it goes well, maybe we can celebrate later. The zipper on this dress is pretty difficult to undo,” you hum.
“I’d be glad to lend a hand with that.” he winks, smiling like a fool as his boyish attitude earns yet another laugh from you.
Rhysand was a tempting sight to be seen, though. It appears as though he wanted to make you two look like dynastic royalty with the way you both are dressed, perhaps to look utterly untouchable to the rebellious crowd you are about to endure. His suit was pitch black, tailored perfectly to hug his V-shaped waist and embroidered with deep purple lacing at its hems. His sleek black hair is pushed back with what you assume is gel, though either by Rhysand’s doing or its own failure some of raven strands had fallen down over his forehead. You couldn’t help but make the allusion of you being the stars and him being the milky way.
“Alright, let’s go before you get too carried away,” you insist. And with that, Rhysand pulls you closer to him and winnows you to where your friends wait—some more impatiently, as Azriel stands with his arms crossed and an accusing expression at the two of you for being late.
By the time you arrive in the Court of Nightmares, you realize the party wasn’t starting without Rhysand and you. The throne room was done up extravagantly to meet the expectations of the High Fae citizens of Hewn City, the pure silver decorations a stark contrast to the deep, shiny ebony that the room was etched from.
Beautiful faces all around the room turn to watch you and your mate enter, their drinks idle in their hands and their conversations paused so that they can get a good look at the new High Lady. You swallow, keeping your chin up and moving on to the main floor alongside your mate. The back of Rhysand’s hand brushes yours, and when you turn to look up at him you see that he’s offering you his arm. You link your elbow with his, allowing him to lead you the rest of the way into the parted crowds.
When the pair of you begin to near the dais, you see only one throne sits at the centre of it. Rhysand seems to have this planned, though, as he gently guides you away and lets go of your elbow once you reach a small cluster of nobles. Of course, it all came down to symbolism and perception, because rulers who are supposed to be equals should have their own thrones to sit, and holding on to you when not walking would be seen as more controlling than chivalrous.
“High Lord, it’s been quite some time since you’ve visited,” one of the Fae spoke. Her features were sharp and dark, brought out by her even darker makeup. To your surprise, she turns to look at you, “And you’re not alone. You must be our new High Lady, I’ve never seen you at any of the parties here.” the nameless female hums, her gaze dragging down along you. You can see in her brown eyes she finds nothing to criticize as she releases a small ‘hmph’ of both disappointment and approval.
“Yes, I am. I’m glad to finally have the opportunity to visit Hewn City properly.” you respond, offering a small, neutral smile. You decided that maybe if you treat these people politely, and not allow any snide remarks to outwardly anger you, they would see you as immune to their judgment and would back down.
The female raises her brow. Rhysand later would tell you her name is Emelia, daughter of a family known for trades. But when you glance to your side, you realize your mate has been pulled aside with Mor in what looks like an unpleasant conversation with Keir, the steward of Hewn City.
Emelia decides to strike while you’re alone, having no respect for someone who, technically, wasn’t her direct authority, “Well, that makes it sounds like you weren’t allowed to visit the Court. Why, does your High Lord keep you at arm’s length?” she drawls, sipping her golden-flaked wine in a weak attempt to hide her triumphant smirk.
Your back straightens, stunned for only a moment at her implication. “Well, it’s just a little difficult finding free time to revel so often when there are duties I must see to for the Night Court as a whole. I’m not sure if you will understand, however, considering how many of these occasions you’ve mentioned you spend your time going to.” you quip, quickly realizing that being nice and courteous to people wouldn’t work, and that Rhysand was unfortunately right to maintain equilibrium in Hewn City through intimidation.
You leave Emelia fuming in your wake, not bidding her a farewell as you head to Rhysand who now converses with Keir alone. Your mate looks relieved when he sees you coming, moving like a wisp in your black dress across the ebony throne room. The male to his left, however, looks less than pleased to see you coming in contrast.
“Keir,” you greet as Rhysand bends to kiss your cheek in loving greeting.
Keir only says your name in return before looking to Rhysand. “Well, that’s all from me, enjoy your fun, Rhysand.” he says, sending a scrutinizing look your way before departing.
Your mate lets him go without the satisfaction of a response. Rhysand sighs, turning to face you and reaching a hand to adjust the positioning of your necklace. His hand brushes against your collarbone as you meet his eyes. “Was she giving you trouble?” he says, recalling that he had to leave you with Emelia, “I felt some tension on your end of the bond,” he murmurs, careful of the level of his voice due to the room being full of prying, pointy ears.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you assure him, taking your turn to do some adjusting by straightening the sculpted fabric of his overcoat. You thought you had managed yourself well with Emelia, who you assume was somewhere between a jealous young female to another rebellious citizen spewing the opinions fed to her by others, and your confidence began to return until you and Rhysand were silent enough for a conversation to reach your ears.
“Look at her. Dressed like a queen and yet she does nothing for the Night Court,” a male voice scoffed. You hear female and male voices laughing almost forcefully in adoration. The male continues, his voice only slightly muffled from the crowd and the distant music, “All I’m saying is, I don’t even work in politics and I could probably do a better job than her.”
After some more irritating cackling, a female voice pipes in, “The dress is tacky, anyway.”
With your heart in your stomach, you don’t even have the chance to look around and locate the owners of these voices as you notice your mate has already walked the few feet over to the small group near the edge of the throne room.
You worry that following after your mate and standing there as he, you assume, chides the yapping male, you make your way to the nearby refreshment table. Azriel thankfully stands there, who seems to be avidly trying to blend into the wall in order to avoid conversing with the unpleasant guests.
“Pretend we’re having a conversation. I’m eavesdropping.” you tell him once you arrive, and Azriel responds with a joking ‘yes, ma’am’ as you become another one of the pointy-eared eavesdroppers.
“Cielo,” you hear Rhysand drawl, a wicked grin on his face as he inserts himself into their conversation. Satisfaction begins to lift your heart back into place as the group’s laughter comes to an abrupt halt.
“Are you implying you think you’d be a better High Lady for me?” Rhysand hums, brow raising at Cielo, who now looks stiff with embarrassment. “Really, I had no idea you harboured such feelings for me, I’m truly flattered.” Rhysand continues just enough so that Cielo’s friends have turned their amusement to their rather humiliated looking pal.
Rhysand takes a step forward, a few inches taller than the glaring male. “I’d hate to break your heart, but if you ever speak about your High Lady and my mate in such a disgusting manner again, I will make an example out of you as to exactly what the punishment is for disrespecting your authority.” and just as his friends began to snicker, Rhysand’s sharp violet gaze turns to them. “And that goes for all of you,” he snaps. Rhysand stalks away, leaving the small crowd of Fae in silence as he finds you next to Azriel.
“You know,” you say cheekily, “I could’ve handled that, too.”
Rhysand sighs as he takes a glass of wine from the table, likely wanting some alcohol to stroke away the flames of his temper. “I know, darling. Sorry for beating you to it, I just couldn’t stand by and listen to them spit bullshit like that.” he scoffs. You can’t be bothered to be mad—too busy gleaming in triumph and pride over your love’s protectiveness.
“Well, I think they learned their lesson,” you giggle, glancing to the group who now watch you and Rhysand in weariness rather than entitlement.
“Good. If they can’t appreciate what you do for them, they could at least keep their mouths shut.” he hisses. You rest your hand on Rhysand’s elbow to bring his attention back to you.
“Why don’t we dance? That way, no one can judge us for not speaking to anyone.” you suggest.
Rhysand takes your hand and kisses the back of it, “I like the sound of that.” he agrees.
After a night full of dancing and more inevitable political conversations, you and Rhysand winnow back to the House of Wind as you call it a night. You find yourself standing in front of your long mirror, trying to reach back to undo the finicky zipper of your dress. You see Rhysand take a step closer to you in the mirror and feel as his hands snake into place on each side of your waist.
“So, how about that celebrating?” he grins to your reflection.
Tumblr media
335 notes · View notes
thehighladywrites · 1 month
Text
ACOTAR MEN X READER, BANNING THEM FROM INTIMACY
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
☀︎ — summary: you let them know they’re not allowed to touch you in any way, shape or form. How do they react!
☀︎ — warnings: 18+, nsfw, az being a slut as per usual, cassian being yummy, touchy needy fae males, slight dumbification in lucien’s
☀︎ — amara’s note: lucien was my fav one to write omgggg, also i hope u sluts enjoy😈😈😈😈 also enjoy while i work with tutor az👀👀
Tumblr media
RHYSAND
“You’re putting me on a ban? You can’t be serious.”
“Nuh-uh Rhys, you flirted with that girl so have fun by yourself for the unforseeable future.”
Rhysand didn’t actually flirt with anyone, he was being his usual self and the way the girl was leaning towards him made you angry so you just blamed him instead
He gets through the first few days calmly although he is mildy irritated. Especially when Cassian and Azriel tease him about it.
“So no sexy time for you Rhysie, that must suck,” Cassian says as he ties his hair back.
“Well, not really much sucking these days, right?” Azriel snickers, getting ready for the inevitable fight
Rhysand takes out his frustration on them for their smart little comments.
Rhysand has quite a high libido so that man usually fucks you good atleast once a day even when you’re both busy.
“Darling, please forgive me. I will never do it again. Tell me what I can do to earn your forgiveness.”
He begs and begs because he’s going a bit crazy
In the end, it takes him only three days for you to forgive him and lift the ban. The man is charming and seduces you into dropping the ban
The second you drop the ban, he grabs your waist, throws you over his shoulder and winnows to the cabin where he fucks you for a week straight.
“That oughta put that nasty idea out of your head forever” he says, patting your head while smiling at your ruined self. Mascara running, laboured breathing, and a pounding heart is your only answer
Yeah this man wrecks you and you never pull this stunt again…
YUMMM MHE IS SO DELICIOUS 👹👹👹👹
ERIS
“You may not touch me or have sex with me in any way until I say you can.”
He narrows his eyes as he slightly smiles when you announce a ban on all intimate activities for the unforseeable future.
“Is that so?”
You cross your arm on your chest, lifting your chin in defiance.
“Yes, that’s right. Since you want to entertain Nesta Archeron, you may not be in my vicinity.”
You are being waaaaaay too dramatic. He didn’t even spare her a single glance until you pointed to her. Nothing at all happened, I mean the male didn’t even know she was at the ball until you told him.
Nesta walked up and was a bit too close to him and even though Eris moved to your side, giving her an unamused look, you were still irritated
And since you couldn’t take it out on her, you take it out on Eris.
But Eris knows what you’re doing, he knows how extremely dramatic you are being, so he just lets you cool off, let’s you huff and puff around the house
You are a mess. An absolute mess
You find yourself longing for Eris's touch, even just a simple headpat from him would send you into cardiac arrest.
The fact that you lasted an entire week is insane bc you’re both touching each other in some way all the time
When you’re lounging; his head rests on your chest, and you lovingly massage his scalp, running your fingers through his hair. Alternatively, he pulls you closer to his body under a warm blanket, nestled in his neck, while he warms his hands for you, acting as your personal heater.
When you’re in public; he always has a hand on your lower back, waist or you walk hand in hand. You also wrap your hands around his biceps, caressing the arm when you feel tired
When you’re in a meeting; your hands naturally seek each other under the table. Whenever one of you gets heated or irritated, the other soothes them by rubbing their thumb on the back of their hand, offering quiet support.
After a week of torture you finally breakdown in his office, storming in and placing your palms on his wooden desk. He looks up at your curiously, an eyebrow raised.
“Okay, I can’t do this anymore, please touch me, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Eris is just as desperate as you are but he wants to drag this out just a tiny bit more before giving in
“Interesting. You initiated this ban, yet you’re the one who can’t follow through? You were fine without me for a whole week, I think you’ll manage another one.”
Your jaw drops in disbelief. Another week? No, you’d rather die.
“I think not. I will beg if I have to. Touch me, please. I will probably die if I go another week without you.”
He leans back in his chair, puts his arms behind his head as his arms bulge. One of your biggest weaknesses
“Normally, I’d make you beg but I missed you aswell. Come here.”
You damn near cry in relief when you sit in his lap and nestle in his arms. His warm hands rub your back and thighs, making you impossibly more relaxed
“This was one of the dumbest things I have ever done. Never again.” You whine against his neck, kissing it over and over again.
“I’ll hold you to that,” he says, emotional as he press a kiss to your head
AZRIEL
“Okay.”
That is all he says when you tell him your banning him from touching you. Honestly, you thought he’d have a bigger reaction so you start getting second thoughts.
But you thug it out bc you still want to prove a point even though he looks super unbothered
In reality, Azriel is panicking on the inside
Although he knows he can physically withstand sex, it’s the love and intimacy he misses the most
So he does the one thing he knows you won’t resist
He sluts around the house
Okay, he walks around shirtless or with super tight black shirts thst highlight years and years of working out
Azriel knows you’re weak for his muscles and body so flaunting it around is step one of his plan.
Step two of his plan draws him extremely close to you, mere inches away. He leans in as you speak, exploiting yet another weakness.
He wears delicious colognes that make your eyes flutter. He wears chains around his neck and leans over you.
Azriel’s final and ultimate slut move is waking up in the morning, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as he speaks. It's all it takes for you to cave in to his charms.
You find yourself the one begging for his touch, unable to resist the longing for his embrace. You babble about never wanting to go so long without feeling his presence again.
CASSIAN
Cassian’s love language is most definitely touch so when you tell him that he is banned from here on out, he freezes.
Like it doesn’t make any sense, he actually can’t grasp the concept.
“What does that even mean? What do you mean I can’t touch you?”
Tha man is flabbergasted
He will follow you around, apologizing for his behavior over and over. You’ve already forgiven him since it was a minor thing but he doesn’t know that
Cassian starts carrying a pillow with him, imagining it is you. He craves touch, and if it's from a damn pillow, he'll gladly take it
He pouts as you try to surpress a smile at his expression. He’ll give you puppy eyes in hopes of you dropping the annoying ban
Eventually, Cassian levels up and becomes extra touchy with the inner circle instead, seeking any physical touch
A confused Azriel gets extra pats on the shoulder, but Cassian's hand lingers, staying put longer than usual, leaving Azriel puzzled by the sudden change in his behavior.
An amused Rhysand receives more hugs, but Cassian's hugs linger, holding him close as if imagining you there for a moment.
Obviously, nothing compares to you, and the whole situation only makes Cassian more irritated.
No sex is just unbearable. Jerking off isn’t fun at all and he can count on one hand how many times he had to use his hands since you got together
After only one and a half day you start to miss his touches and get jealous that your friends is getting his warm touches instead.
You’re also very horny and since you and cassian have a VERY active sex life, it makes a lotta sense. This male usually fucks you 1-2 times everyday, and I mean EVERY day
Seriously not a day goes by without some action, whether it be fingering, bjs, handjobs, nipple play, him eating you out, 69 just anything really
When you finally, after 1,5 excruciating days let him touch you, he smiles and thank the Mother then drags you to your bedroom
Y’all don’t come out for a solid 2-3 business days
Ever since the ban, he is stuck to you like glue fr
LUCIEN
Lucien is very calm for someone who isn’t allowed to touch his mate
“You’re banning me from touching you? That’s really cute,” Lucien remarks casually, a hint of amusement in his tone as he takes a sip of his peppermint tea.
You furrow your brows, pouting. “I'm not joking, Lucien. If you touch me, I'll scream,” you assert firmly, crossing your arms over your chest. With lifted chin and proud gaze, you stand your ground, making your new and temporary boundaries clear.
Lucien chuckles softly. “Yeah? You’ll scream? Love, you scream real nice for me when I touch you anyway, so what's really new?” he teases, getting closer to you.
“I mean, do you really want me to not touch you?” Lucien asks, his voice low as he inches closer and closer until your faces are mere inches apart.
He gets so close, his warmth leaving you breathless. His soft, plump lips barely brush against yours, the touch so light it's almost not there.
“Tell me, my sweet, perfect girl,” he murmurs, his breath mingling with yours, “who put this idea in your head?”
You are barely functioning, your words stuck in your throat as you struggle to come up with a response.
“I know you're too out of it to properly respond to me right now, and it's okay,” Lucien says gently, his tone teasing. “I guess using your brain is a tough task, hm?”
You nodded absentmindedly, distracted by his charming smile
“M'sorry, Lucien,” you mumble, your words breathless and slightly slurred. “It was just a joke. I really want you to touch me,” you admit, your voice trailing off as you become increasingly dumbfounded in his intoxicated presence.
He tsked with mock sympathy. “It's okay, sweetheart,” he said gently, gripping your chin. “Let’s not say things we don’t mean the next time, okay?”
“Okay, I won’t.” you say blushing at the proximity before giving him a sweet sweet kiss on the lips. Lucien pulls you in closer and y’all fuck right there on the kitchen table but damn it was good
Yeah, banning Lucien from intimacy will never work
Tumblr media
🏷️: @thelov3lybookworm @redbleedingrose @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @clairebear08 @rowaelinsdaughter @artists-ally @berryzxx @aroseinvelaris @cupidojenphrodite @jeannineee @daycourtofficial
1K notes · View notes