#wingplay

[stormz369]

The King of Hell and Me: Ch 2 - Molting

Chapter Guide Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4

Summary: Lucifer goes missing because he's embarrassed. Preening ensues. Wolf-demon reader. Warnings: fluff, Lucifer being bad at vulnerability, animal characteristics, implied arousal, rated mature (maybe?) Word Count: 3k

Lucifer had his own home, of course. But since the hotel’s grand re-opening, he’d been staying in his suite here. To be closer to Charlie, or to get himself out of his depression funk, or maybe both, it wasn’t clear. Either way, we’d found ourselves spending a lot of time together. We ate breakfast together most days, he told me all about his most recent duck-based inventions, and he was the only person I let into my office while I was doing my work for the hotel. Charlie had hired me as an all-purpose consultant, letting me work on any projects I wanted, and I dove straight into the advertising/community outreach/PR side of things. My work didn’t typically look like much until I had a completed product to present, so I didn’t like to have people watching my process, and as long as I kept her in the loop Charlie didn’t mind my secretive ways. But Lucifer was a creative mind too. He understood that sitting at my desk apparently doing nothing wasn’t actually nothing, and he let me be.

He was also the only person allowed to put things in my office, but that was only because he felt it was odd that I was a wolf without a pack, -because “Even hellhounds have packs, dear girl! Wolf-demons aren’t that uncommon, you need a family!”- and had started making one for me, a slowly growing pack of rubber ducks with wolf ears and fluffy tails. Every so often I’d find a new one in my office, and each one did something unusual. A pair facing each other on the windowsill had a laser between them that would alert us to intruders, but most were silly things like duck-wolves that could jump and growl, or were actually soap dispensers or changed color with the weather. 

It actually worked out to be a mutually beneficial relationship. We both had a tendency to dive headfirst into our hyperfixations, and when one of us did, the other usually managed to keep them from spiraling too far. He’d comb my hair and fur, and remind me to take breaks. I’d bring him dinner and get him out of his room when he was getting frustrated. One time I even sat in the bathroom taking notes while he talked so he could shower without losing his flow. We weren't exactly romantic, but it was far more emotionally intimate than any romantic relationship I’d ever had. And, with no one else filling that role for either of us, we did end up on the receiving end of a lot of ‘old married couple’ jokes. 

And that’s why, when he suddenly just wasn’t at the hotel one morning, I got a bit nervous. And, I’ll be honest, frustrated. I reminded myself that just because we typically spent breakfasts together didn’t mean we had to every day. Just because he’d told me every time he was leaving the hotel for the last few months didn’t mean he was beholden to me. We were friends, but he wasn’t mine and I couldn’t tell him what to do. I had no right or reason to be put off by this unexpected change to my routine. So I ate breakfast alone, went down to my office to work alone, and … couldn’t get into it. I couldn’t focus, everything was just a bit off. I should be able to hear his breathing, see his faint glow out of the corner of my eye, feel his hands in my hair. But I was entirely, soul crushingly, alone. 

I texted him every day for the first week. Then once every few days, which quickly became once a week, but he never responded. He didn’t even look at them. I was starting to think he might be mad at me, but I couldn’t imagine what I could have done to upset him so much. I started working evenings, finding it less uncomfortable to be alone at night, but I had trouble getting much done either way. Charlie started bringing me breakfast in my office when everyone else had dinner. I appreciated that she was making sure I ate, but I was just as worried about her as she was about me. Lucifer hadn’t reached out to her either, and he wasn’t taking her calls, and her calm facade was starting to crack. At least she had Vaggie though. I was just alone.

A month into his disappearance I was working late again. Everyone was in bed, and I was trying to finish up this advertising campaign mock up for Charlie, when I heard the door of the hotel creak open. My ears perked up, and I cracked my office door open, listening carefully. I couldn’t make out who had come to visit. There were footsteps, light and airy but far too heavy to be Lucifer. I sniffed the air, glad for my more animalistic senses, hoping to catch some kind of clue. Friend, or foe? Welcome, or defend? The air smelled … musty, and damp. Something was very off.

I flicked my wrist, extending my claws, and made my way silently down the dark hallway. The intruder stumbled up the stairs, it would be silent to those without acute hearing, but I heard every step. I followed along, trying to visualize where they were from the sounds. They made their way past the elevator and up more flights of stairs, and I tracked along behind them, staying a floor below them to avoid detection. I wanted to know who they were, but I also wanted to know what they were looking for. When they finally made their way down a hallway, I glowered. They were on Charlie’s floor. I waited, listening halfway up the stairs so I could pounce if needed, until I heard them stop at a door. I jumped up, landing a few feet away from the short, trenchcoat clad figure. They jumped, pressing themself against the wall as if they could disappear through it, and dropped … a key?

“... Lucifer?” I whispered.

He turned toward me, a sheepish grin on his face. “... Heeey … I’m home!”

I sighed, scooping up his key and unlocking his door, gesturing for him to go inside. “Don’t wake Charlie.”

He nodded, darting inside. His footfalls were too heavy, he was hunched over a bit, and his back looked bulky under his coat. Something was wrong. He sat awkwardly on the couch, kicking his feet a bit. “Sooo … How’ve you been?”

“How have I been? … Luc, where have you been? … Y- you didn’t call, you didn’t tell anyone where you were going, or when you’d be back, you sneak in in the dead of night in whatever that is, you smell like a drowned bird, and you’re walking like an injured dog. And you ask how I’ve been???” A deranged laugh ripped its way out of my throat as I collapsed onto the seat next to him. “... Do you even care that we’ve all been worried sick? … I … you didn’t text me back … You were just … gone.”

He flinched a bit, hesitantly reaching for my hand. “... I .. I’m sorry, puppy … I didn’t mean to scare you. I just … I had something to attend to.”

I sighed softly, letting him take my hand. “What was so important that you couldn’t even tell us you were ok?”

“I … just had to …” He sighed. “Look, it’s kind of embarrassing, ok? I …” He mumbled something, a low whine in the back of his throat masking his words.

“... What was that?”

“I’m molting, ok?” He whined, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m molting, and I can’t comfortably put my wings away until it’s over, and they’re ugly right now! So I just … I thought I’d just go to the manor until it was over. I was only coming back tonight to get my sketchbook so I could work on a project…”

I blinked a bit, trying not to laugh. “... Right. … Just so I’m clear, cause I didn’t really interact with birds on earth. Molting is the one where birds lose a bunch of feathers and get new ones, right?” He nodded. “And it’s a yearly thing?”

He nodded again, “For most birds. Angels get a little one each year, and a big one each decade. It takes forever! It’s … unpleasant. Messy …” He grumbled softly; “humiliating.”

“Humiliating? It’s just part of having wings, isn’t it? How is that humiliating?”

“... You’ve seen my wings, what did you think of them?”

I let out a sigh, thinking. “... They’re bigger than I expected, but that makes sense since you’re not a bird. They’d have to be pretty big to lift you up … unless you’ve got hollow bones and they’re just ostentatious?” I chuckled a bit, hoping to lighten his mood, but it didn’t seem to work. “... They’re beautiful, and they look really soft … You look so majestic when you fly …”

“Exactly. … Beautiful. Majestic. That’s what they’re supposed to be … but when the molt comes they’re … really not that. … Molting is messy, and itchy, and … gross! … I look like a plucked chicken under this coat…” He whined softly, frustrated tears pricking at his eyes as he hid his face in his hands. “And the worst part is that I can’t even rush it along like we did in heaven, because I can’t reach!”

“... Can’t reach? … Do you have to pluck something, or?”

He nodded. “At the end of the molt the new feathers have these keratin sheaths that have to be removed … In heaven we’d get a few trusted angels together and circle up, but I can’t do that here! So I just have to wait for them to peel off on their own!”

I frowned softly, gently stroking his shoulder. He whined softly, looking at me hesitantly. “Lucifer, … I’m sure this is a … sensitive topic, and I’m sure there’s a reason you didn’t ask, but … if you wanted to ask, … I would help. And I promise, I wouldn’t judge you for what they look like right now, or talk to anyone else about it, or anything like that … It’s just like when you got that matt out of my fur, that was pretty embarrassing for me, but I couldn’t see it well enough to get it out myself. So you sat down with me, and you took a set of combs, and detangling spray, and a pair of scissors, and you fixed it for me. … You could have just cut it out, but you didn’t. You sat there and meticulously detangled it for hours, and then you trimmed everything so it wouldn’t get bad so easily again. Remember? … I could do the same for you.”

He nodded slowly, sighing softly. “I just … I didn’t want you to see … you don’t understand, they look really bad right now …”

“So did my neck.”

He thought for a moment, sighing before he carefully slipped the ugly beige trench coat off. His wings were pressed firmly against his back, almost trembling. He turned away, letting me get a good look at them. The majority of his flight feathers had already gone through the process, but about half of the fluffy down feathers were still encased, or partially encased, in cylindrical sheaths. I smiled softly, gently stroking down his spine. “It really doesn’t look so bad, Luci. Let’s get comfy, ok? Do you wanna lay down somewhere?”

A shiver went up his spine, and his wings attempted to puff up in response. It did look a bit sad, but I wasn’t gonna tell him that. He was feeling uncomfortable enough as it was. His wings were usually a source of great pride for him, I wasn’t about to make this harder for him. He slowly nodded, and carefully got up. I followed him to his bedroom, a little concerned by how wobbly he seemed.

“... Luc, is the molt really the only thing that’s going on? You seem a bit … off?”

He collapsed onto his bed, pulling a pillow under his chest and crossing his arms under himself. “It’s enough … The little molts take a lot of energy, but the big ones … The big ones really suck … I’ve been in bed pretty much since I left …”

I nodded, sitting next to him. “I see … so, I just start peeling these things off the feathers?”

He nodded. “Gently, please … You can roll them a bit if they resist, but if that doesn’t work move on to the next one. Most of them should be ready though.”

I hummed softly, gently taking the wing in front of me and carefully extending it. He groaned softly, following my movements compliantly. I let the wing rest on my legs and began carefully sliding my fingertips over the little cylinders. Most of the keratin sheaths started to flake and crumble away under my touch, and I carefully rolled the slightly more resistant ones between my fingers. Under my touch, fluffy down and contour feathers began to emerge. I gently brushed the debris away, careful of my claws. I knew I had to do this perfectly; to prove he could trust me with things like this. He wasn’t moving or making any noises though, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or bad.

I worked methodically from the bottom where his wing attached to his back, up and out to the wingtip, periodically brushing the detritus away and stroking his freshly exposed feathers. I finished the right side and got halfway through the wings on the left before I ran into one that started to peel away, but then didn’t want to budge. I was about to move on like he’d told me, but I paused when I heard the first noise Lucifer made since I started touching his wings; a high pitched whine. He squirmed uncomfortably, and his wings ruffled up a bit.

“... Luci? D- did I hurt you?”

“Noooo … I want it off …” He whimpered softly, pressing his face into the pillow. “... C- Can you scratch it a bit? Just a bit!”

I nodded, humming softly my agreement, and carefully ran a claw along the sheath. His high whine returned, but this time it seemed a bit more … pleased? I scratched again, watching little bits of the sheath peel away. After just a little bit more the sheath fell away entirely, releasing its fluffy feather, and Lucifer sighed happily. 

“Ohhh fuck~ … Oh, that’s so much better! Your hands are magic~” He moaned softly, bringing a blush to my cheeks.

I cleared my throat; “... I’m glad you’re liking it, Luc.”

I carefully continued to the tip of his wing. There were only a few that hadn’t been ready to go yet, and his wings were back to their full, shiny, fluffy glory. He sighed happily, but didn’t move to get up, so I just continued to stroke his feathers.

“Ahh~ … Puppy, that’s wonderful~ … But y- … you do know, wings are sensitive, yeah?” He slowly lifted his head, looking over his shoulder at me. The heat on his face made me squirm shyly, and I shakily removed my hands.

“S- Sorry … I …” I blushed bright red, scooting backwards. He whined softly, slowly sitting up and facing me.

He shakily reached for my hand, running his thumb over my fingers. “... I wasn’t trying to make you stop. …”

I blushed even more, looking up at him shyly. “... So … should I continue?”

He slowly lifted my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles gently. “... Only if you wish to.”

I nodded slowly, shakily pushing him to lay back down. He did, watching me out of the corner of his eye, and I straddled his hips, stroking his wings gently.

“... They’re so beautiful, Luci … You are beautiful …” I was mesmerized, letting my hands trail along the soft feathers. 

He sighed happily, settling under me. “... I cannot believe I let this go on for a full blessed month when I could have had your hands on me this whole time …”

I chuckled softly, continuing to preen him gently. “Never again, yes? You come to me for this, whenever you need it. Or even if you just want it. … You take care of me, and I take care of you.”

“Because we’re an old married couple.” He nodded, yawning softly. “Yes, love, anything wifey wants~”

I blushed brightly, trying desperately to stop the squeak from leaving my mouth. Others had called us a married couple before, mostly to tease us, but we had never said it. “... That’s right, husband. Anything I want.”

He smirked slightly. “Husband … I like the way that word sounds when you say it ... If you’re not careful, I might just make you my wife for real …”

“... And what exactly would ‘being careful’ look like?”

“Oh, you know. Not letting me touch you anymore, keeping me out of your office, making fun of my ducks. … Taking your hands off my wings would definitely count as being careful.”

I chuckled softly, steeling my nerves and leaning forward to kiss his cheek. I whispered against his ear; “sounds like a horrible way to live. I think I’ll take my chances.”

His eyes flew open, looking up at me. A bright red blush spread across his face, and a hesitant smile graced his lips. “... I agree. A horrible way to live.”

He carefully slid out from under me, turning around so I was in his lap instead, and gently cupped my cheek, rubbing gently with his thumb. I leaned into his touch, sighing happily, and he slid his hand up to stroke my fluffy wolf ear. An almost electric feeling shot through me, leaving me gasping, and I hesitantly looked up at him. He smirked slightly, pulling me closer and kissing me softly before he whispered in my ear; “Now don’t give me that look, love~ You’ve been doing it to me this whole time~”

[buckysbvtch3]

One thing we don’t see is any mention of Hunt’s wings and their sensitivity?!!!!

Correct me if I’m wrong but it was not mentioned in any of the smut scenes.

Illyrian wings in ACOTAR are so so sensitive and I’m hoping she will include this in CC3!

Maybe someone will mention it to her in the inner circle 👀 (even though they can barely communicate 😭)

Was anyone thinking the same?

[dumbass-fangirl]

I think the fandom should take full advantage of the fact that Sephiroth has a wing. Where’s the fic and fanart of Sephiroth preening his wing? Sephiroth getting his wing hurt in battle? His wing getting touched gently? Come on

[rosanna-writer]

whoops the outline for we said hello and your eyes look like coming home crossed 2k words today because I'm upping the fluff AND smut

[poshmina]

A Tale of Two*Very Sensitive* Wings

Azriel X !Fem Reader

Warnings: (18+ Mature) wingplay, size kink, light angst, getting caught

Word Count: 5k+

Background: You are a long lost Archeron half-sister and your dad sends a message asking if your sisters will provide you with refuge. They oblige, bringing you back to the night court to reside with them and the rest of the inner circle. The story begins after A Court of Mist and Fury when Nesta lets slip to you at dinner that Azriel thinks he’s your mate. At first, this shocks you, as you are still human and are not accustomed to the traditions of the Fae. However, as time goes on you’ve begun to feel drawn to him. You spend your time in the Night Court learning healing practices, since you have no magical power and cannot fight with the rest of them. You’ve been staying in the House of Wind with Azriel, and though you see him often and want to get closer to him, he is always quiet and withdrawn, leaving you confused wondering how someone so distant could be your mate?

The floor of the House of Wind shudders as an Illyrian male lands on the balcony. You look up from where you’d been sitting at the table, enjoying dinner, and watch his shadow cross the balcony. You can’t make out his face in the darkness, but you know who it is anyhow. 

Azriel crosses the threshold of the doorway into the dining room, his long wings tucked against his back. He hardly casts you a passing glance as he breaches the room, shadows swirling around him, seemingly not in the mood to chat tonight. You’ve gotten used to the quiet, brooding demeanor of your housemate, and usually you don’t press. Except tonight there’s blood on his face, in his hair, and on his clothes. As he walks, pieces flake off and scatter across the floor, meaning it’s been there long enough to dry. Meaning he likely left his wounds untreated the entire flight here, meaning he risked passing out mid flight and tumbling to his death due to blood loss.

You shove your chair out from behind you and stand, the sound echoing across the hall. “How long have you been bleeding?”

He doesn’t pause, or even look over his shoulder to address you. “It’s not mine.”

By this point, he’s halfway across the room, apparently planning to head to his quarters without having someone check his wounds. That’s when you notice it, a myriad of tears across his wings as if he’d been struck with arrows and then yanked them back out. The blood on his wings is most definitely his own. 

“Azriel!” It comes out as a mix between a shout and a plea. You can tell yourself you don’t really care about him, that you would harass anyone until they got treated, except this is more than medical obligation. You’re beginning to care for him.

He stops in his tracks, but doesn’t look over his shoulder. “Y/N, I’m fine,” he insists. 

You cross the room towards him. “Clearly you’re not! There are holes in your wings. You’re so covered in blood there’s no way even you could tell if there were wounds hidden beneath. You have to get treated!”

He lets out an irritated sigh and finally turns to face you. “Y/N, you don’t have to involve yourself in this. It’s none of your business.”

Gods, you can’t believe him. “You made it my business when you came in tracking blood across the house. Either go see a healer, or let me take a look.”

You don’t know why you’re so insistent. He could be fine. He’s been alive for hundreds of years and surely knows his physical limits. Except you’re so tired of him keeping you at arm's length, so tired of his closed off, brooding attitude. 

He hesitates, jaw clenched, but doesn’t agree. 

“Just let me help you,” you plead. 

For a moment, you think you see behind his mask, the cold exterior he keeps up around you. You think he’s going to say yes.

Instead he draws further on himself and pushes you further away. “I’m fine, Y/N. Worry about yourself.” He turns to disappear down the hallway, but doesn’t get two steps before you’re walking after him. You don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight, but you’re sick of his games. Sick of waiting and wondering if he’ll ever make a move. If he even likes you. Every feeling you bottled up from the past few months comes to a head, tumbling out of you.

“What is wrong with you?” You ask, exasperated. 

He wheels around to face you, unable to mask the surprise on his face, “What?”

“I said what is wrong with you! You’re always irritated, or distant, or avoidant. You actively avoid me even though I’ve done nothing but be kind to you. You act like I’m a thorn in your side even though I have every right to be here in this house with you.” You jab a finger towards the floor to solidify your point. “Do you think I asked to be here? To be taken from my home and thrust into this strange kingdom, with your strange Fae traditions, where everyone is older, and faster and stronger than me?” He blinks, stunned into silence by your sudden outburst.

“Do you think I asked to have you as my mate?”

Immediately, you wish you could take it back. You hadn’t meant for that to come out at all, let alone in such an accusatory tone. Really, you don’t mind the thought of him as your mate. That is, if you could explore the bond together. If he would quit shoving you away. 

His shadows flare, and the scowl you've become so accustomed to returns. “Who told you that?”

“I—” You fumble over your words, “I didn’t mean to tell you that.”

He takes a step closer, and all of the sudden you get a very real sense of his height as he towers over you. “Doesn’t matter, you already did. Now who told you?”

You reel to find something to distract him, not wanting to put the blame on Nesta. Your relationship with your new sister is so new and fragile, you can’t drive a wench in it. “I deserved to know Azriel. It’s not like you were going to tell me.”

His gaze flickers, and you swear you see a flash of pain in those eyes. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

The sting of rejection pangs sharp in your chest. He didn’t want you to find out this way, or he didn’t want you to find out at all? All these months avoiding you, acting like he wants nothing more than for you to poof out of his life and return where you came from. You tried to ignore the fear, tried to push it away, but now the reality crashes over you. Your mate doesn’t want you at all. 

“Well now I know and I don’t expect anything from you.” You jab a finger towards his chest. “I know I’m human and I’m weak and you didn’t ask for me either. But it wouldn’t kill you to be a little nicer to me.” You take a shuddering breath, and a weight seems to fall off your shoulder with all of those words out. You realize you’ve moved closer to him and take a step back.

“Nicer,” he repeats, watching you intently. 

“Yes,” you huff. “We don’t have to be anything more than acquaintances. Housemates, even. But you don’t have to be such a dick.” You cross your arms and level him a stare.

He sighs, shaking head in disbelief. “Fine. What exactly does this relationship of acquaintance entail?” One of his wings shudders behind him, and from the wince on his face you can tell it wasn’t on purpose. You look at it pointedly. 

“Letting me help you would be a start.”

There’s a final moment of hesitation, drawn out long enough that you think he might actually turn you away. Except then he shakes his head, and as if it physically pains him to do so, says, “As you wish.” Without another word he turns down the hall to head to his rooms. You take a moment of pause, wondering if you pushed too far. The male in front of you is not just any man, he’s a centuries old Illyrian warrior with power beyond your comprehension. Any relationship with him could be dangerous, acquaintance or no. 

But he turns back to you. “You coming?” And for some reason you can’t help but follow.

—

“Fuck.” He shudders beneath your hands. The blood was not, in fact, entirely his opponents. He had two gashes, one across his abdomen and the other along his bicep. Although his fae blood was already beginning to heal them, you insisted he let you stitch them up in order to avoid scarring. 

You thread the needle through his skin and finish the final stitch, clipping the string you used to sew him up and sitting back to admire your handiwork. You may not have magic, but you quickly excelled in the healing arts. 

“All done,” you tell him. He lifts his head from where it had been bowed against his arms and inspects your work. If he’s impressed or not, you can’t tell. He shows nothing on his face, not even a hint of pain from the wounds still remaining on his wings. 

“Now for your wings,” you shift to stand behind him, biting your lip as you try to decide a course of action. Wings can’t be stitched up, they have to heal naturally, and take longer than most ailments to close. The best you can offer is to apply a numbing salve to curb the pain for now. You’re about to tell him that when he says—

“I can handle it.”

You knit your eyebrows. “I’m already here. You won’t be able to reach behind you. If I don’t numb them you’ll be in serious pain all night.”

Put so plainly you’re unsure how he could refuse. He does anyhow. “I don’t need numbing salve. You’ve done plenty, thank you.” And just like that he dismisses you. Except now that he’s washed the blood from his skin you can see just how pale he is, and with the pain he won’t be able to get a lick of sleep, slowing the healing process altogether. 

You prop a hand on your hip. “As your healing professional I would strongly advise against that.” You don’t understand his reluctance, and every time he says no to help, it only makes you want to push further. 

He looks up at you, and for the first time in maybe forever, one side of his lips quirk up into a smirk. “Healing professional, huh?” 

You shrug. “The closest you have to one, at least.”

He tilts his head back and mutters a prayer to the Mother. “You’re not going to leave until I let you do this, will you?”

“It’s unlikely.”

He gives an exasperated sigh, then leans over the desk he’d been sitting at, baring his wings to you. “Make it quick.” His voice is muffled by the cradle of his arms. You can’t help but smirk at the success. Progress. This is progress.

A few minutes later the house has summoned a jar of numbing salve for you and you are standing over him, preparing to begin your work. 

“This may sting for a moment, but once it settles it will fade.” He grunts in response. “I’ll be gentle,” you add. You scoop a generous portion out of the jar, warming it between your fingers before applying it. You decide to start at the outskirts where the tears are thinner and not as gruesome. Hovering a hand over his wing, you pause for a moment before gingerly spreading the salve on him. He tenses immediately, hissing through his teeth before relaxing as it settles in.

“Okay?” You ask.

“Fine.” His tone is clipped. 

Taking that as permission, you continue along the edges of his wings, applying and waiting for him to adjust before moving to the next. As far as cooperation goes, he is the ideal patient. He doesn’t so much as shift a muscle while you work, and remains deadly silent. If it weren’t for his fists resting on the table clenched to the point his knuckles are white, you would think it was painless. 

Once you finish the outer ring of his wings, you pause. “I’m going to tackle the deeper ones now. Do you need a break?”

“Don’t bother.” His voice comes out muffled, and you notice one of his hands has disappeared into the space between his arms where his head is caged. He’s likely biting at his finger to distract from the pain. 

“Would you like something to bite on?”

 For a moment there’s no response, then his hand returns into sight on the desk. “I’m fine, Y/N. Please continue.” He says as if you’re a nagging insect buzzing at his ear rather than the only person trying to help him. 

With a huff, you dip your fingers into the jar again, and begin to spread the salve near the base of his wings. This time, you aren’t quite so gentle. 

He lets out a strangled sound beneath you, somewhere between a gasp and a groan. Immediately, you feel guilty, and start to take more care with the application, massaging slow, deliberate circles into the muscles of his wings. You can feel the muscles around the tears shudder and relax as you go. He curses beneath your hands. 

You’ve almost reached the last, and nastiest, of his wounds when he abruptly shoves his chair backwards and stands, causing you to lose your balance. You nearly fall on your ass before catching yourself on the desk. 

“That’s enough,” he nearly shouts at the same time you say, “What the fuck, Azriel?” His eyes are wild, chest heaving as he glares down at you. He distinctly seems to angle his body away from you.

“I wasn’t finished,” you argue.

He looks up at the ceiling, anywhere but directly at you. “You’ve done plenty.” Instinctively, your eyes fall to his stomach to double check the work you’d done earlier. Instead, your eyes snag on something a few inches lower.

Your eyes widen as you take in the obvious bulge straining against his leathers. 

Oh.

One of the first things you’d learned about treating the Fae is that wings are very sensitive. They are to be handled with the utmost care, their delicate construction requiring practiced healing applications. However, in all your training, nobody had deigned to mention sensitive goes hand in hand with pleasurable. 

His eyes flare as you look back up at him, cheeks heating. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but words don’t come. He merely continues to stare at you with that heated gaze. 

“I should go,” the words come out of you in a frenzied rush. He doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t disagree either. “I just— I didn’t realize,” now that you’ve started, you can hardly stop yourself. “This is all so new to me. I wouldn’t have if I’d known—”

“Now you know.” If he means it to be harsh, it doesn’t come out that way, but rather like a plea.

“I should go,” you say again, but can hardly move a muscle. With him standing there and looking at you like that, with the distance between you so small. You feel as if you're drowning, and he is the current pulling you further under. 

You let out a small gasp as you feel a featherlight touch on your cheek. One of his shadows has crept across the room, and whether he intended it or not, is caressing you gently. Instinctively, you lean into it.

A few paces away, you watch his lips part as he watches you. He doesn’t recall his shadow. Instead, it inches closer, brushing across your lips. You don’t dare move, you don’t dare breathe. 

“Azriel,” you whisper. 

In a moment he’s upon you. The shadow dissipates, replaced by his hands cupping your face, his hips pushing you backwards until you're pressed against the desk. He kisses you with a hunger you’ve never felt before, his lips moving desperately against yours. You let out a whimper as he guides your lips apart, running his tongue across your own. 

With every ounce of self control you have left, you manage to shove him away for a moment. 

“I thought you hated me. I thought you didn’t want me as your mate.” You search his eyes for answers, for the cold, closed off man you’d known up until now.

“Hate you?” He tips his head back and laughs humorlessly. “If hating you means thinking about you every waking moment. If hating you means desperately wishing you’d appear outside my doorway every night. If hating you means not being able to even think about you without—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “If that’s what it means then sure, Y/N, I hate you.”

Your mind reels trying to process what he’s telling you. “You sure as hell acted like it.”

A flash of regret crosses through his eyes. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I wanted to give you time to adjust.”

Faintly, you remember what had happened when Lucien had sprung the mating bond on a newly transformed Elain. She can hardly stand to be in the same room as him, let alone pursue a relationship. 

In a moment of boldness, you reach down and palm him through his leathers, watching as his eyes flutter closed in pleasure. “Consider me adjusted.” You yank him back down to you, crashing his lips against yours. He meets you with the same intensity, tongue and lips and teeth clashing in a heavenly dance. His hand slides up to your throat as he kisses you, holding gently. It’s only when you pull away to gasp for air when you realize his shadows are floating around you, cradling you both. 

Your lips part in wonder. It’s beautiful, but you hardly get the chance to tell him so before he lifts you up on the desk and resumes the contact. His kisses stray from the side of your mouth, to your jaw and neck. He takes your ear between his teeth and tugs lightly, sending shivers of pleasure through you. His hand cups your breast, and when the attention of his mouth lowers to your collarbones, you lean back to shuck your shirt off. He palms your breast greedily, reaching behind you to undo your bra clasp before taking a moment to stare. You feel your cheeks heat at the intensity of his gaze, and have the urge to cover yourself again.

“Perfect. You’re fucking perfect Y/N,” he mutters before lowering his mouth to your nipple and closing his mouth upon it, sucking and swirling in a way that makes you arch into him. He gives your other breast equal attention until you're moaning and panting beneath him. 

He retreats to relive himself of his armor. If there’s any remaining pain in his wings, he doesn’t show it. He steps close and positions himself between your legs, peering down at you. You reach out a hesitant hand and hover it over the tip of his wing. He watches your movements with rapt attention, nearly holding his breath with anticipation. 

You brush a featherlight touch along the crest of his wings, and that touch alone is enough to cause him to shudder and groan under his breath. You can’t imagine how he stood still for so long earlier. 

You reach down and tug at the hem of his shirt, wanting it off. He obliges, tossing it aside, returning his attention to you. You take him in slowly, dragging a hand down the hard line of his abs, tracing his tattoos with your finger. He waits patiently, letting you have your fill. Unable to help yourself, you glance down at his hardness again, breath faltering as you take in exactly how big he is. From a distance, it seemed reasonable, but from this close…

He reaches out a hand to cup your face, peering into your eyes. “Are you sure you want this?”

Without a moment's hesitation, you say. “Yes. I want this Azriel. I want you.”

You watch relief flash in his eyes before he resumes his movements. His hands go to your waistband, and he unbuttons your pants before leaning in to whisper, “Lift your hips for me, “Y/N.”

You do as he says, positioning yourself so he can slide your pants over your hips and cast them aside. He repeats this motion with your underwear, baring you completely to him. And before you can even consider what’s to come next, he lowers himself to his knees in front of the desk, bringing his face directly in line with where you need him most. He places one long lick from your entrance to your crest, drawing a ragged gasp from you, then pulls away. 

“Y/N.”

“Yes?” Your mind spins, because as he’s talking, his mouth is hovering over you and you can feel his breath as he speaks. 

He dips a finger between your folds, dragging it up to circle your clit. “I’m gonna get you ready now so you can take me comfortably, alright?”

You hardly register what he’s saying, because his finger is moving fervently against you and you can already feel that coil of pleasure within you. You give a short nod in response. 

Then, as quickly as it came, the pressure on your clit is gone. You look down to see him peering up at you, waiting for an answer. What did he say again?

He must sense you drawing a blank, because he smirks and repeats himself. “I need you to be good and do as I say so you can take me fully. Okay, Y/N?” 

“Oh… Yes. Okay,” you nod fervently. It’s then you realize exactly what he’s saying to you. You heard rumors around the inner circle that Azriel had the biggest… wingspan… but you never imagined anything close to this.

Satisfied with your answer, he resumes again, lowering his mouth to take the place of his finger. He circles his tongue around your clit, then sucks gently. You’re already seeing stars when you feel his finger at his entrance and he slowly slides it into you. 

You moan and arch off the desk, hands flying to his head to tangle in his hair. You chance a glance down at him, and the sight of him kneeling before you, wings looming over his shoulders, eyes dark with lust, almost sends you over the edge then and there. 

He begins to pump into you slowly, curling every so often to hit a spot that makes you writhe and moan. You’re just at the crest of your orgasm when he adds another finger. You hadn’t expected it, and the new sensation causes your hips to jerk as you gasp in pleasure. 

“Azriel I’m gonna—”

“Not yet,” he murmurs. “Hold on a little longer for me, Y/N.”

You curse, trying to dampen the pleasure growing inside you. It’s all too much, and you have to bring your hand to your mouth and bite on your knuckle to keep from coming. He slows his movements for a moment, purposefully torturing you and keeping you on that edge. 

A moment later, everything resumes with increased intensity. He pushes a third finger inside you, stretching you in a way you’ve never felt before. You gasp, shutting your eyes against the pleasure, and when you open them again, he is standing in front of you, never stopping the pace of his fingers. He raises his other hand to circle your clit. The pleasure reaches a new crest, and you find yourself grasping onto the desk just to find something to ground you. 

“That's it. Come for me now,” he whispers, eyes never leaving you as the orgasm washes over you. You shudder as you come down from it, hips bucking against his hand. When you finally open your eyes you find your hand intertwined with his.

He gazes down at you, and the hint of a smile crosses his face. “Beautiful. Fucking perfect, Y/N.”

You blush and attempt to catch your breath as he rids himself of his pants and aligns himself with your entrance. You cast a glance down, taking him in in all his glory. He rubs his tip through your folds and sighs at the contact, before leaning in to give you a kiss. 

“Tell me if it hurts and we’ll stop,” he promises. You nod, dismissing his worries. You sincerely doubt he could do anything to hurt you based on how amazing you’ve felt so far. And regardless, you trust him, trust the rigid self control he’s shown you all these months in the house together. 

You feel his tip prodding your entrance, then he sinks the first few inches in. You sigh at the sensation, tilting your head to steal a kiss. With that for motivation, he pushes in a little further, looking down at you with worry in his eyes. 

“Okay?” he asks.

You let out a breathless laugh, “Better than okay.”

You watch his face soften, and he pushes the boundary a bit further. You look down to watch him sink in, and are shocked to see he’s only halfway sheathed. You can already feel yourself beginning to stretch around him. The feeling is foreign, but not painful. 

When you look back up at him, his face is strained in an expression that nearly looks painful. He’s holding himself back, hesitating to keep a firm grip on that iron self control of his. You reach up to run your hand through his hair, catching his eyes. 

“I’m okay Azriel. I’m not going to break,” you reassure him. 

You can tell by his curt not that he doesn’t believe it. He advances another slow, languid inch, and you buck against him impatiently. 

“Azriel,” you level him a look.

He sighs. “I know. I just don’t want to hurt you. You’re still human and—”

“And I’m okay. This is okay. This is good.” You rotate your hips enjoying the pleasurable sensation it brings. He hisses through his teeth above you, and his hips jerk forward only slightly. You enjoy pushing him, enjoy making him lose control.

But there's still so much of him left, and you can’t stand the delicate line he’s walking. You want him fully, and you want him now. You reach behind him, grabbing his ass to shove him the rest of the way in. You gasp as he makes a strangled sound above you. There’s a hint of the pain he was so worried about, but it falls to the wayside as you're entirely overwhelmed by pleasure. 

“Fuck,” he groans as he finally starts to move freely. Slowly at first, then with increased urgency. He pulls his hips back and rolls them into you, hitting a spot so deep within you it feels like you’re one in the same. You watch as his control slips, and his hips snap into you, inching you backwards on the desk. 

“Yes, Azriel, yes,” you tell him as he picks up the pace, fucking you so hard the desk begins to bang against the wall and your eyes roll back in your head. Fucking Azriel is a sensation unlike any you’ve known before. He fills you perfectly, bending to place kisses along your breasts and collarbones. Holding your hips to slam into you at an impeccable pace. 

He shifts, looping his arms under your knees, and then there’s only air beneath you as he picks you up and presses you against the wall, fucking you into it. You gasp and weave your hands into his hair, tugging lightly. You feel his thrust getting quicker, jerkier, but before he comes he switches you again, bending you over the desk and fucking you from behind. You cry out at the change in angle, and your hands fly to the edge of the desk, holding tightly.

You feel him leaning over you as he places a kiss on your back. “This is what I wanted. Everytime I avoided you, everytime I pushed you away, it was because of how badly I wanted this.” He punctuates the last word with a particularly hard thrust and you cry out as you feel his hand intertwine with your hair. It all becomes too much, and you feel yourself approaching the edge again when he wraps a hand around to your front, finding your clit and sending you spiraling. He fucks you through it, steady, hard, barely giving you a chance to come down before his hips jerk and you feel him finish. He curses, seating himself fully inside you as he rides out his orgasm.

When he pulls out, you are panting and breathless and sated with pleasure. You turn around to see his shadows scattered across the room, filling every crevice and corner.

It’s then that you both hear footsteps coming down the hall. His eyes widen, and he hurriedly steps in front of you to block you from view, covering himself with his hands. 

Cassian round the corner, fury in his gaze. “What the fuck Azriel. The entire city is covered in shadows. Rhysand thinks you’re– Oh.” He stops in his tracks, cheeks turning pink as he lifts a hand to cover his eyes. 

“Cassian?” Azriel says, his voice strained.

“Yea?” His voice sounds choked in his throat.

“Get the fuck out.” 

[azpizazz]

headcanons about azriel’s wings because I can’t sleep and they’re all I can think about

- first of all, he definitely has the largest wingspan, but he’s not cocky about it and let’s his brothers think that theirs are bigger

- they twitch when he’s irritated, or pissed off, or even sometimes when he’s turned on

- he’ll shoot one out in front of you so you don’t walk away from him or to prevent you from going any further somewhere else

- he uses them to shield you from things or other people and it has you standing on your tippy toes to try and look over them but they’re so damn huge that you can’t

- he’ll curl one around you to guide you closer to his side

- they flare slightly to show his dominance whenever another male looks at you a little too long for his liking and it always has you rolling your eyes at him

- he’s so needy and when you’re not paying attention to him, he’ll flap them, sending a gust of air in your direction and he smiles when you finally address him, even if it’s just to scold him for ruining your hair

- he drapes one across you while you sleep and it’s just like a second blanket

- you’re the first and only one besides healers he allows to ever touch his wings

- you’ll sit at the edge of the bathtub and clean them for him because “you get all the hard to reach places”

- and don’t even get me started on wingplay…

- the first time you gently stroke a particularly sensitive spot, he whimpers, yes whimpers

- you like to dance your fingertips along the membrane just to see his eyes closed and face scrunched up

- you’ll lean to kiss them because they’re just so beautiful and he’s coming undone within seconds

- there are plenty of times that you’ve made him finish by just playing with his wings

- anyway…

- the first time he comes to your small studio apartment, they bump into everything and you’re giggling as he tries to catch all the things that are falling off counters and shelves

- they slump when you’re upset with him or just sad in general because he hates seeing you like that

- similarly, they perk up whenever he sees you or hears your voice or laughter

- he’ll reach out and gently stroke one down your spine just to let you know he’s there

- he likes to cocoon you in them often, because he says it feels like it’s just you and him in the whole wide world

there’s a lot more but you get the gist

[purple-writer8]

Delicate - ACOTAR

Azriel x Winter Court Reader

“Handsome, you’re a mansion with a view. Do the girls back home touch you like I do?”

warnings: literally smut with a plot, fingering, shadowplay, wingplay sort of, light very light bondage, riding, p in v, cum inside

1k words

Masterlist :)

Your favorite thing to do was trace small stars across the shadowsinger’s bare chest, your eyes strained on his sleepy, peaceful face. 

Whenever he stayed over, you grew lazy— waiting for him to wake up, not wanting to move much as you laid tightly tucked between his chest and his right wing that cocooned around both of you. The blue siphon that hangs off his chest glows even as he sleeps, and you twirl the object in between your fingers. Wondering how you ever got one of the strongest warriors in Prythian to be yours.

Well, yours temporarily… sporadically.

“Watching me sleep?” His wing twitched as he spoke, his voice entirely raspy, hazel eyes fluttering open to gaze down upon you resting on his chest. Shadows slithered up your bare legs, they were a soft caress that reminded you of the previous night the both of you shared. 

“Am I not allowed?” You whispered softly, playfully, curious fingers reaching up to softly trail his sharp features. His shadows coiled around your waist and then traced up to your bare breasts, slithering atop your already hardened peaks.

“You can do whatever you want when it comes to me, lovely,” Azriel spoke, causing heat to pool in between your thighs, and you were entirely sure that he could smell your desire. That devilish smirk was all too telling. 

He was a dream, and he was there-- in your bed. You sighed and looked up at him, your eyes finding his hazel ones, and as you gazed into them-- you found yourself thinking what would it be like if he was yours, your mate-- really truly yours. 

You had met Azriel in a diplomatic venture you had for your court, fifty years ago. You were the Winter Court's emissary, which made you and the Nigh Court's spymaster prone to seeing each other constantly. 

The Winter and Night courts were friendly, so your High Lord had once invited Rhysand and his Inner Circle to a Winter Solstice ball. You had always found the shadowsinger attractive, anyone who didn't was insane-- he was crafted by the Mother herself, you were sure. But that night, alcohol was flowing, and he ended up in your bed. 

You had thought it was a one time thing, but somehow, whenever he had business in the Winter Court, he was knocking on your door-- constantly falling into your bed. It was something casual, no strings attached. That did not mean you did not wish for him to be yours every damn time. 

Straddling him, you leaned down to whisper in his ear, "whatever I want?" 

Azriel chuckled deeply, his wings twitching in anticipation, his hardness standing tall and pressing against your bottom. You reached for the cuffs that laid on your night stand, the same ones he had used on you the night before. 

As you worked to cuff him to the headboard, his shadows danced around you, teasing you. Some glided over your stiffened peaks, while others slithered to your center, ghosting over your clit, making sure you were nice and ready for their master. "Is this my punishment for last night?" He chuckled, wriggling his wrists around the now closed cuffs. 

"Yes... bad little shadowsinger," you cooed, reaching for his right wing, your black polished nail scraping against that leathery spot you knew would drive him crazy. Azriel whined, his cock twitching, eager to be touched. You smirked and got off his lap, sitting in between his legs. 

His eyes darkened as you revealed to him your glistening sex, running two fingers along your folds. Azriel licked his lips, "you cruel, cruel female." His shadows slithered up your leg, reaching your aching clit and ghosting over it. You moaned as you fucked yourself with your fingers, his shadows helping with ministrations that were oh, so torturous. 

"Fuck... you look so pretty like that... with your fingers fucking your pussy." He struggled against the cuffs, yearning to touch you, longing to feel you. "Don't you dare come," he growled, his shadows whisking up toward your neck, slithering around it to keep you steady. 

He tickled your neck as a distraction, and before you could even react-- he had uncuffed himself from the headboard and flipped you unto the bed, a seductive smirk crawling unto his face. You chuckled, your hands holding his biceps as his fingers plunged into you, fucking into you with an unrelenting pace. His wings flaring wide, covering almost the entirety of your room. 

You didn't need much to come down from your high with a loud cry, nails digging into his arms as you came undone on his fingers. "Good fucking girl... so good for me..." he whispered, still fingering you, extending your orgasm as much as you could. 

You gripped his arms tightly and flipped him over, lowering yourself into his hardened cock, not able to wait any longer for that feeling of him deep inside you. He growled, wings tucked tight as his scarred hands gripped your ass, guiding you up and down his stiff member. "Do the girls back home fuck you like I do?" You moaned, your arms swinging to wrap around his neck for purchase. 

"Not a chance," he breathed out shakily, holding you in place as he drove his hips up into you, fucking you with an unrelenting, punishing pace. You moaned loudly, brazenly, as his cock hit that spongy spot inside of you over and over again. "You're always so tight, fuck..." he groaned. 

"I can never stop thinking about you.... fuck... you're the only one I can fuck..." Azriel breathed out, his thrusts becoming erratic as he neared his peak. "I'm yours, Azriel. Only yours, you know that." 

He let out an uncharacteristic moan as he shot his spend deep inside you. His thrusts slowing as he pumped you full of him, so fucking full. And you came again for him, always for him.

You slumped over his chest, head nuzzled into his neck as his fingers combed through your hair gently— both of you reeling after reaching your peaks together. The two of you cuddled for another hour, until he apparently got orders from his high lord in his mind. “I’ve got to go, angel…” he whispered, gently lifting you up off his body. 

You frowned, watching as he dressed himself quickly. “Stay here, baby, I don’t wanna share…” you said softly, covering your body with the duvet and leaning against the headboard. 

Azriel chuckled as he donned on his leathers, “you make it harder to leave each time, lovely.” 

“Promise you’ll be back soon… you always leave for so much time…” You whined, causing Azriel to step towards you, clasping your chin in his fingers. 

“We can’t make any promises, now. Can we, babe?” He asked, and you knew it was true— knew that your situation was delicate. 

You were both entirely dedicated to your respective courts. So you watched him go, and instantly yearned for him to come back. 

-

Author’s note:

Literally porn with a plot… BTW this winter court reader is not the one from heather. I just adore the Winter Court hehehe

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria

[throneofsapphics]

yes or no

Rhyzriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel walks in to give Rhys a report. 

Warnings: this is actually PURE smut, soft!dom Rhys, kind of switch az, d/s dynamics, voyeurism, wingplay, minors dni!

A/N: apparently I was in a mood today, here’s some absolute (soft?) filth 

Rhys wrapped his arms around your waist, tugging you back to rest against his chest. At first, it began sweet - gentle even. You relaxed back into his chest, closing your eyes and sighing. Strong legs caging you in, pinning you in place. His hand slipped under your top, thumb running back and forth over the soft skin of your stomach, idle and lazy strokes. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you are today?” 

You huffed a small laugh, “yes, you have.”

His knees slipped under your legs, casually hooking yours - spreading you open for him. 

“Rhys,” you murmured. 

He curved to place a kiss on your neck. “Yes?” The smooth voice echoed in your mind. 

“What are you doing?” You replied aloud.  

“Enjoying time with my mate, of course.” More like playing with you. His favorite pastime.

“It is.”

One arm tightened around your stomach, holding you closer. His hand trailed lower, fingering the band of your pants, popping one button open. 

“Rhys,” you sighed, even as your body began to relax in him, eager to feel his touch. 

“Something wrong?” He sounded amused. 

“No.” 

“Then be quiet.” 

Your mouth slammed shut at the order, at the underlying hint of dominance in it, especially as made his way further, back and forth strokes, slowly making his way down to where you wanted him. An involuntary moan left your lips as his fingers finally grazed your clit, hips jolting into his hand. 

“Do I need to gag you?” A rapid shake of your head, but really … you wouldn’t quite mind it. 

As always, keeping your mental walls lowered for him, he heard that particular thought and his hand withdrew. From the corner of your eyes, a small piece of cloth, black and smooth, appeared in his hand. Other hand withdrawing, he hooked a thumb between your lips, gently opening your jaw. 

The cloth doubled over, before slipping between your teeth, tied snugly behind your head. Immediately, your mouth began to water and you ran your tongue over the foreign material. Smooth against your tongue, thick enough for your teeth to bite into. 

Another thought from him, and your clothes disappeared. You had been wondering how long that would take. Dragging his nails up the inside of your thighs, your breath caught as you watched him get closer and closer, before pushing your legs further apart. Two fingers gathered your arousal, nearly dripping down your thighs now. 

“All this for me?” Another nod, mumbling something incoherent. “It better be,” he breathed. 

Hips rolling back, he hardened beneath you, a groan leaving his throat. Gentle but firm lips pressed kisses against your neck, sucking just enough to leave a faint bruise. You tilted your head, opening for him. Surrendering to him. His hands slid up, cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. 

You arched into him, embracing his touch, reaching your arm back to touch him - it froze mid air, a midnight swirl of magic catching it before lowering it down to your thigh. You whined in disappointment. It was only him who could get you into this state - the state where you’d whine for anything. Rhys loved this game, the control he had over you and your body. At least in this bedroom. 

“I do love it.” You rolled your eyes, a slap to your core cut that off. “We have a guest,” he warned and your breath caught. Hands tried to cover you, but he pried them back down with his own. A shadow creeping under the door was your warning, and it swung open without hesitation. 

Your body flushed, embarrassment at being caught in this situation. You were tempted to slide those mental shields back up, so he couldn’t hear your - “Don’t you dare.” 

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. 

A half smirk came over the shadowsinger’s face as he saw you, the position you’d been caught in. 

“A bit caught up?” His smooth and cool voice seemed to echo through the room.

“No,” Rhys answered. You couldn’t answer. 

Before you could frown, his hand swept back down, the other wrapping around your stomach and pinning your arms in place. Head falling back against his shoulder, your eyes rolled back, grinding your hips into him, a small snarl and nip against your neck stopped that. You didn’t care about the audience anymore, it felt like every part of you narrowed down to him, to the feeling of his fingers on you, the hard planes of his body behind you, legs spreading you wide. Teeth nipped at your neck, and the moan you let out wasn’t stifled by the gag. 

Rhys stilled, and you blinked your heavy eyes open. Azriel was still speaking, giving a report about something, but his eyes were on you. On where Rhys’s hand connected to your body, on the swell of your breasts. Slowly, you raised one hand up your body. Rhys let out an amused chuckle, and allowed it. 

Keeping your eyes on Azriel, you trailed your fingers up, running a knuckle along the curve of your breasts, pinching your nipple between your thumb and forefinger. 

“Do you want him to come over here, darling?” Hesitation. You didn’t want anything that would make Rhys uncomfortable. “It wouldn’t. I’ve had a long time to think about this.”

Fuck. 

“You have a dirty mouth.” 

“I didn’t say anything. I can’t say anything” 

“A dirty mind,” he corrected. “Yes or no?” 

“If you want to, if he wants to” 

“That’s not what I asked,” his tone changed, firmer - demanding an answer. 

“Yes,” even in your mind, you thought your voice sounded breathy. You turned your head to watch Rhys, his eyes glazed over, telling something to Azriel. You heard Azriel moving, and you tried to turn, but Rhys gripped the back of your head and held you in place. You were keenly aware your body was still exposed. 

“What’s your safeword?” 

You swallowed, “Spring.” 

Seconds later, your vision was obscured, another fabric tying tightly over your eyes. You couldn’t see anything, complete darkness. The rest of your senses heightened. The bed shifted, someone was moving - you were moving, kneeling, knees pressing into the soft sheets, hands rested on your thighs. 

“Are you ready?” Rhys wasn’t asking you. 

“Yes,” Azriel’s strained voice came. 

Then, hands were lifting you. Rhys gripped your hips - his hands were familiar, pushing you forwards, but Azriel’s hands, rougher, gripped each of your thighs, spreading your legs out. They worked your body easily, the two of them seeming to know exactly what to do. 

“Breathe,” was Rhys’s only warning, as Azriel - it had to be him, pressed against your entrance. Hands slammed you down, and you yelped - muffled by the gag, a painful stretch as you were fully seated. 

Too much. It was too much, you were too full. 

“You can take it,” Rhys encouraged - this time speaking out loud, he pressed against your upper back, and your hands naturally found their way to his shoulders. You’d never … never been on top of Rhys, at least. Well, not in a while. Rough hands found your hips, encouraging you to move. 

It took you a minute to get your balance, to find a rhythm, but the gentle rocking of your hips, the slight movements, made his heart rate increase, his breaths quickened. Soft, but effective apparently. Gently, his hands ran up and down your sides, brushing over each of your curves, stopping to sweep underneath your breasts. 

Rhys was still behind you, “that’s it,” he murmured into your ear, “you’re doing so well.” 

The little bit of encouragement was what you needed, what you needed to grow bolder. As you did, you were rewarded, and both the gag and blindfold disappeared. 

“Az wants to hear you,” Rhys said with a hint of amusement. 

Az, currently beneath you, watching you with glazed eyes. Faster, you moved faster, starting to push your hips up and down. He groaned as your nails dug into your shoulder, and you had an idea. Not something you could do without permission or asking, that was likely to get you killed at worst, maimed at best. Instead, you eyed the curve of his wing, knowing his shadows would track. You wanted him to invite you, for him to make that choice.

“You can touch them,” he seemed shy - maybe even hesitant. You could feel Rhys’s surprise behind you. “Just don’t stop moving,” he groaned. 

“Be gentle, love,” Rhys spoke to your mind this time. 

Carefully, avoiding any of your nails, you ran a finger over the curve of his left wing, gauging his reaction. He stiffened, eyes closing. Good. Repeating the motions, Rhys grabbed your hips, helping you keep a steady rhythm as Azriel’s eyes stayed closed. 

You liked this, liked that you were both working to bring him here, to give him this kind of pleasure. 

It didn’t take long before Azriel’s fingers were digging into your thighs, stopping you. Sensing it, Rhys pulled you off, just in time for Azriel to finish - all over your stomach.

Rhys disappeared, probably to grab a washcloth, and you moved, trying to give him some kind of space. It wasn’t hard to pick up that was his first time having someone touch his wings - in that way, and you realized the vulnerability in it. Instead, his arm darted out, wrapping around your waist to tug you closer. You let your head rest on his chest, running your hand up and down his arm, listening as his heart settled back to normal. 

This, you wanted to do again. 

“We will.” 

[shadowdaddies]

is it okay if I request a lot?

Can you do a smut where it's just like lots of wingplay? With the same Summer Court female and Az? You wrote my last ask so beautifully it was amazing to wake up to, especially because you answered so fast!!!

honey it's okay if you request a LOT a lot, lol sometimes it takes me a little longer to get through my requests but I'm ALWAYS excited to see your ideas💜 and I love Az and the summer court reader, they're so sweet

A/N: this is a continuation of Part 1 but can be read separately

Wings of Desire (Pt. II)

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: smut below the cut, oral f!receiving, p in v sex, wing play, minors dni, not proofread sry

You lurched awake in the bed, covered in sweat as you quickly took stock of your surroundings. Only once you had confirmed it was just the same nightmare as always did you allow yourself to breathe. A shiver ran down your spine as cold caressed your cheek, a shadow dancing along the wall before slipping through the door. 

You shook your head, realizing that you must be imagining things after that horrific dream. Before you could get swept up in the memories you had recalled in your sleep, you looked around the space, grounding yourself in the present. A small smile graced your lips as you remembered where you were. 

It was cozy in the High Lord’s cabin. Despite the unfamiliar chill of winter, the house was as warm and comfortable as ever. The space next to you on the mattress was empty, however - different from how you had fallen asleep next to a certain shadowsinger. As if summoned by your thoughts, Azriel knocked softly on the door to your room. “May I come in?” his low voice sounded through the door. 

A small laugh escaped you at the ridiculous question. “I fell asleep with you in here. Of course you can come in.” Only a moment passed, but it felt like a century before Azriel slowly entered the room, softly closing the door behind him. “I just wanted to check on you.”

Realization dawned on you as you cocked an amused brow at the spymaster. “Would the shadow you left behind have anything to do with your concern?” You admired the blush that reddened his cheeks as your theory was confirmed.

“I didn’t think it was appropriate to stay in here with you while you slept, but that shadow insisted on staying behind with you.” He spoke as if the shadow were an unruly child, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of the feared Night Court spymaster having trouble controlling his shadows.

“I much preferred it when you were in here with me, if you would like to stay in here,” you whispered, looking at Azriel with hopeful eyes. Another one of those rare smiles flashed across his face for a moment, before he schooled his features into an indifferent facade. 

“Of course,” Azriel murmured, moving to settle into his old spot under the sheets next to you. His shadows danced as the male settled into the sheets, and you watched enraptured by their personality. They seemed to be more telling than their master when it came to emotions. One shadow - likely the one who had stayed with you through your nightmare - darted out to brush your cheek, twirling through your hair as you let out a loud laugh at its playful nature.

As if your laugh got their attention, more shadows followed suit. They all moved towards you, like puppies eager for your attention. They played with your hair and clothes, until they brushed the inside of your wings, eliciting a loud moan from you. 

Azriel shot up in bed, frantic as he studied your face. “Are you okay? They aren’t bothering you, are they?” It was your turn to blush now, embarrassed by the scent of your arousal, which the shadowsinger had clearly picked up on, if his darkening eyes were any indication. He was frozen above you, eyes searching yours for an answer to his unasked question.

You reached up, threading your fingers through the hair at the nape of Azriel’s neck as you gently guided him towards you, your own eyes searching for any hesitation. Instead, Azriel eagerly leaned into your hold, lips brushing lightly against yours in a soft kiss. Shadows danced across your wings once more, this time eliciting a moan as you arched into Azriel. 

The energy between you changed drastically - turning from a chaste kiss to fervent need for more. Teeth and tongues clashed as Azriel climbed on top of you, both of you grinding against each other in a frenzy. You had never felt the need for someone like this, desperate to consume and be consumed as you ran your own hand down the outside of Azriel’s wing.

He growled into your mouth at the touch, and you smirked into the kiss - a silent challenge which he understood. Azriel quickly lifted your nightgown, leaving you bare and him only in his pants as he kissed his way down your body. He read you like a book, taking note of your reaction to every touch, knowing where to move next as you writhed under his hold.

The same shadows that had been teasingly brushing your wings now skated over your bare body, teasing your breasts and clit as Azriel licked a stripe up your core. Gripping your thighs, Az held you open as he ate you out hungrily, enjoying how you moaned praises at his touch. A scarred finger pushed into you, curling against your walls as Azriel sucked on your clit, his shadows oscillating against your wings. The overstimulation sent you over the edge with a scream, vision fading in and out as Azriel worked you through your orgasm.

The moment the smirking spymaster came back into focus above you, you shoved his pants down with your feet, ready to take control of the situation. When you tried to flip Azriel over to ride him, shadows wrapped around your waist, pinning you against the bed. Azriel smirked, shaking his head as he leaned down to suck on your neck. 

“Let me pleasure you for tonight, love,” he murmured, his deep rasping voice sending a shock of pleasure through you. Hazel eyes watched yours as Azriel pulled your leg over his shoulder, lining up at your entrance. A rough laugh left his lips as you wiggled your hips in encouragement, eager to be filled by him. 

Azriel pushed into you, making you feel more full than ever with his size. The both of you moaned at the feeling when he settled inside of you, waiting a moment to adjust before he began thrusting. Finding the spot that earned the most reaction from you, Azriel held you in place as he pounded relentlessly, stealing the breath from your lungs as he worked you. 

You clenched around him as you neared a second orgasm, and desperate to have him come with you, you reached your hands out to his wings. Fingers slid along the dark veins, satisfaction filling you as Azriel came inside you with a roar. Shadows were unleashed, again overstimulating your clit and wings as the both of you came together. 

Azriel fell to his elbows, hovering over you as he left kisses all over your face. Giggling under his sweet touch, you lightly pushed the shadowsinger back to look at him, shocked by the feeling that rushed through you as you looked in his eyes. “Mate,” you whispered.

A brighter smile than that which you had ever seen from Azriel graced his features. “Mates,” he confirmed.

[princess-tulip-writes]

azriel’s habits while doing it

a/n: this was requested to me so long ago, and I feel horrible for taking so long but alas, here it finally is. I plan on making this a series with the bat boys and maybe the vanserra bros too.

I think azriel is a switch; dom leaning.

he’s mainly a soft dom but alternates to a hard dom sometimes too. he can be submissive, but only if you ask or he needs to be taken extra care of.

azriel tends to baby you during sex; calling you pretty nick names, caressing your skin, kissing you all over, making sure you’re feeling just as good as he is.

speaking of nicknames, he has the best ones for you that make your pussy clench just from him calling you them.

princess, angel, bunny, and sweet girl are the most common, but they never really stop. he always finds new titles to make you flustered and wet.

pussy eating is a daily routine for him. never once has he sinked his cock in you without getting a taste first, making you cum at least once beforehand.

he just loves the fucking taste of you so much, the days that he doesn’t fit eating you out in his busy schedule are always bad ones. it’s comical to you, but if you giggle about it, you’re in trouble.

punishments are never mild with azriel. spanking sessions are long and harsh, your ass is definitely a shade of purple and blood red once he’s finished.

he’ll carve his initials in you if you need reminding of who’s pet you are too. but that’s only if you’d gone too far to make him jealous.

overestim and edging are big ones for him when you’ve done something minor.

he’s the type to eat you out, but stop as soon as your right on the edge then go about his day. he won’t fuck you before bed that night either to teach you a lesson.

with overstimulation, he’d keep lapping at your clit until your sobbing for him to stop, then fuck you for hours until you’re both soaked in squirt.

making you a squirting mess is his favorite thing ever btw.

this male has SUCH a dirty fcking mouth. like seriously, you can’t get him to shut up.

“what a pretty girl.”

“fucking love this cock don’t you?”

“tell me who’s fucking you this good, princess.”

“gods, I love the way you say my name, angel. keep screaming it for me.”

sigh, I need him.

his hands love wander all over your soft curves, squishing your chub adoringly as he stares into your teary, fog filled eyes. he always whispers to you about how you feel like paradise in his hands.

cum! rings!

he loves looking at the way his cock disappears inside of your lush cunt, then comes back with a white, creamy ring at the base from how much you’ve came.

his kisses are hot, and filled with such passion that it could make the cruelest lords fold under him, and it makes your knees buckle and walls clench every time his lips find yours. his tongue is everywhere in your mouth exploring. the smell and taste of him is intoxicating and you savor every bit as his fucks you.

omg okay, wingplay.

it’s the absolute death of azriel, let me tell you

usually, when you want to expel the prettiest whines and moans from him, you would drag your fingertips along the curves and bones of those glorious wings.

and boy, no matter what mood he is in; weather he’s pissed at you and pounding you so fucking hard, or feeling so loving to you— the second your graze the sensitive membrane, he’s a goner.

“fu-fuck, beautiful.” he’d whine before sinking his lips to yours and moaning against them as you keep tickling him.

also, wingplay definitely helps you when you’re in a lot of trouble— if your hands are free that is.

which gives me an idea: kissing his wings.

you usually only do this when you’re making love or you’re the one in control. either way, it makes him crumble instantly.

a few opened mouth kisses and some licks to the underside can get him desperate and ready to cum so fast. he actually starts to buck his hips in the air because he just wants to finish so bad.

when he cums, which is in a fairly decent amount of time; not too quick, but not too slow. you usually cum once or twice on his cock before he finishes inside.

he cums ropes too.

the fucking sounds this male makes—

im talking whimpers, beautifully dark whimpers and moans as he fills you up. his wings flutter softly and shake, his thighs and abs clench and he usually seeks out your shoulder or bottom lip to bite.

aftercare is always a top priority !!!

sometimes he runs you a bath immediately, others he just stays with you and holds you close while telling you how good you’ve been for him, how much he loves you, how pretty you are as he peppers soft kisses all over your face.

[kurosstuff]

🍯

Can you do lute x female!reader, reader uses a strapon on lute and wing play is involved. 👀

Oh my~ honestly this- was fun to write- I never wrote wingplay stuff before so! Hopefully you enjoyed it~?

Warning(s): wing kink, strap on use(on lute), vanilla but not at the same time? Idk. Lutes rude at the begining(she's just nervous) overestimated(lute) couple mentions of "breeding"/"being bred"

Im- gonna jump right into it- HELP I- KINDA WENT ALMOST ALL IN ISH?

Lute x reader

It took a while to get Lute to even THINK of bottoming. Much less allow you to even use a strap on her. She's more then happy to use it on you but for her? The thought didn't exactly appeal to her. But- promising to try it once and never bring it up unless she allowed it(that and a bunch of.. kisses) then? She entertained the idea

And that's how she was. On your shared bed with a deep scowl, completely naked. If it weren't for the deep flush on her face. And how her wings puffed up, threatening to expand? You'd assume she was pissed(she was, but that's besides the point)

"The fuck is taking so long?" She growled our glaring at rhe bedroom door "God lute. Calm down, won't you, baby? I'm making sure it's all strapped on!" At that? She growled, looking away with a deep snarl.

A couple minutes passed by before the door finally opened "fucking finall-" her words cut in her throat seeing the toy. Not like the one she uses no- it was so much bigger "what the fuck is that? That's what you picked?" She growled out glaring at you flushed darkly making you smirk moving close to her

"What~? Lute, you scared?" You teased, kissing her, gently biting at her lips, ignoring her protests of 'hell nos!' Sighing "babe.. if you don't wanna do this we don't gotta. We can- like cuddle or something?" Making her stop. As if weighing jer options before shaking her head

Grumbling, she huffed. "No. Its.. fine. Just you picked a bigger one then I tho- oh fuck you don't get so fucking smug" she snarled out glaring at you flushed embarrassed of the whole thing snickering kissing her again

"Sorry baby~ now... can you bend over for me~? Wanna see those gorgeous wings of yours~" Purring out pouring liquid onto the toy watching her do exactly what you asked of her smirking at how they fluttered at the praise "you always get like this when I compliment your wings~" getting onto the bed feeling her entrance gently "excited I see~" Purring out seeing her wings fluttered pushing the tip on her entrance slowly pushing into her stopping half way

"Fuck~," Lute whimpered out, grinding back against you. Hiding her face into the pillow "more~ g-give me more~" feeling you push all the way in, smirking down at her. Moving to hold her waist pounding into her gently

"Easy now lute~," you purred, watching her under you moaning loudly clawing at the sheets. "I've got you~ gonna get faster, ok baby?" Pounding into her faster - harder. Holding her waist, squeezing her gently panting

"Would think you're trying to breed me, Dove~?" She gasped out, bending more bouncing against her, making you hum in thought, biting your lip at how much of a "switch' just occurred. How she's eager to submit to you all the sudden

"Maybe I want to breed you, Lute~." Pounding faster into her ignoring how the bed shook under the both of you barely starting to hit the wall knowing a bit of roughness? She could handle "would you blame me?" You purred out, watching her wings fluttering, flapping slowly.

Smirking at a "cruel" thought, "i wonder~" sensitive here, too?" Moving a free hand to rub at her wings, going all over her delicate wings, pushing all the tight places, hearing her sob moaning louder for you."yeah~ that sensitive, huh baby?" Purring out your pace unrelenting as you took her in your bed.

Watching her wings expand as if to show off to you. As if to signal to you about being a good mate for you. "God gorgeous baby~ yeah? Wanting to mate me, yeah?" Pounding rougher into hrr leaning to kiss where her wings met "wow~ shaking this much?" Seeing her nod so drunk off you from being overestimated. "God~ can't wait to breed you~"

Ever so gently leaning to bite at a part of her wings watching her arch her back, screaming your name out, smirking kissing the mark cooing "couldn't help myself gorgeous ~ I'm sorry" pounding faster watching as she slumped laying under you sobbing out from the pleasure "more~" hearing a broken whimper from her. Ignoring how the bed shook now, hitting the wall harshly creaking under you both from the unrelenting pace.

Panting heavily moving to tower over her kissing her neck praising her as you marked her ip moving faster in her "doing so good~ you close my love?" Purring against her neck watching her nod humming, they smirked, pounding faster in her before humming, rubbing her wings, watching her shake.

"Go ahead~"

At that? With a loud sob screaming out your name- lute came. Slumping down under your wings popping up, spreading as you cooed gently slowly pulling out, "That's my good girl~ I've got you~" whsipering, moving to clean her up gently laying next to her "liked it Lute?"

Grumbling glaring, she moved, cuddling up beside you, kissing you gently. "It was perfect~" Purring out panting wings fluttering .After I catch my breath, I'll pay you back my dove~", making you flush, smirking nodding

[azsazz]

You Know My Desires

Kinktober Day 1: Azriel x Reader [Wingplay]

Summary: Azriel is a jealous male, and you know just how to calm him down.

Warnings: Smut, wingplay, jealousy, possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics.

Word Count: 2,892

Notes: Alrighty, let’s do this!

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He’s trapped.

Boots rooted to the unusually pristine floors of the Court of Nightmares ballroom. Body rigid and frozen, nearly vibrating with rage. His wings ache from being held taut, and his teeth are on the verge of cracking from how tightly set his jaw is.

If he moves, this entire sub-court will perish.

A patron indulging on the gluts of the party—rich, fae wine and hor d'oeuvres paired with teasing touches and lew moans—stumbles nearby, her steps faltering as she passes through the bubble of his anger. Azriel watches her from his peripherals as she locks up, shivering as if his shadows are raking their way down her spine. His hazel glare stays locked somewhere across the dance floor.

Right to where you’re dancing with him.

Not even the fire that had scorched his hands when he was young hurt as badly as watching this bastard twirl you around the ballroom.

Rasor’s grin is a wicked one. It’s twinged with secrets and chaos that Azriel doesn’t like; pale, gray eyes alight with mischief and lust. He hates the male leading you in this less than formal dance. Of course he does—he knows every single creature lurking at this unnecessary party. Rasor is a suck up, a male who gets off on trying to be like his High Lord, snarky and silver-tongued. 

He is a failure at even that.

Azriel fantasizes about killing him for the way that his hands are on you. One, settled so low on your hip it’s nearly on your ass, the other clutching yours tightly as he guides you gracefully across the floor.

Everyone’s attention is on the two of you and it stings. If he knew anything other than hundreds of ways to torture a male for touching what is his, he might have asked you to dance. The shadowy corner of the room provides the darkness he requires to seethe like the fucking pathetic male he is.

You need to calm down, Rhysand says gently within his mind. Azriel desperately wants to roll his eyes at the High Lords warning, to cut a glare to where he’s lounging on his throne, but his mind doesn’t allow him to let his gaze stray from you for even a moment. Or everyone’s going to wonder why the ballroom is pitched in darkness. And I can only cover for so long.

Immediately, Azriel reels his shadows back. He watches the way your brows furrow and cast over Rasor’s shoulder when he pulls you against his chest in a move that makes even the fae fucking in the corner gape in awe. You’re seeking him out, wondering if he’s reigned his shadows back because he’s left.

No. He would never leave you.

I hate this, is all Azriel replies, but he means much more than that.

I need her for a bit longer, Rhysand says, and Azriel can feel that violet gaze on him, even if he’s shrouded in darkness. Do I need to have Cassian remove you?

Azriel wants to fight. He wants to launch himself across the ballroom and land a killing blow to your dance partner. No—he wants to paralyze the male and then take you to the floor and fuck you, claim you, mark you with his hands, his teeth, his cum, until every last patron knows who you belong to.

He takes a breath but it’s a struggle.

No.

But you laugh at something Rasor says and Azriel sees red.

His shadows consume him, moving him from his spot in the corner of the room to the middle of the dance floor.

A female shrieks at his sudden appearance but he doesn’t care, baring his teeth when her partner runs into his side. He’s behind you, catching you around the waist mid-twirl. Your dress is still the silky smooth it was when he caressed your thighs and had taken you before you left, his cum leaking down the insides of your thighs masked by the dark fabric. He had wanted to lap the mixture of both of your orgasms from your legs like the Godly ichor it was, but instead he’d asked you to let it dry, a warning to any male who’d try to make their move on what’s his.

Rasor either hadn’t taken the hint or he’d ignored it completely, a dangerous act, and one Azriel will kill over.  

The shadowsinger swears he can feel the other male’s fingerprints on your hips, and he doesn’t like it.

Not. One. Bit.

Your gasp is soft as Azriel’s hands gently but possessively wrap around you. It makes his cock twitch in his leathers. The way that your hands find his, clutching them tightly as he moves you makes him preen on the inside, his face a solid mask of steel.

Rasor looks less than pleased to have his dancing partner taken from him. His eerie gray eyes flicker over to where the High Lord has sat up in his throne. Azriel doesn’t like that, fighting the urge to strike. Rhysand pounds on the solid walls of shadow in his mind but Azriel doesn’t answer the demand. He doesn’t care if he’s not invited to the next ball, he’ll kill Rasor before then so there’s no chance of him getting his hands on you again.

As badly as he wants to growl ‘mine’ to the still-staring male, Azriel allows his shadows to twine around the both of you in an intricate manner that has some of the patrons flushing. His pets put on an extravagant show as they twist and turn around you, swallowing you to take you from this plain to the next, and Azriel grins like a feral beast, meeting the eyes of the wretched male who had taken you from him tonight, before the darkness consumes you both.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘��⊱⋅•

“What was that?” you ask, annoyance lacing your tone. You hadn’t finished your mission—hadn’t schmoozed Rasor enough to slip you the information your High Lord desired. No, Azriel had appeared—though you hadn’t been surprised, you could feel his anger writhing through the room like a beast stalking its prey—before he had stolen you away from the party, depositing you back in your shared chambers.

Azriel stares. His demeanor is calm, but his hazel eyes are brimming with fury. You cross your arms, looking right back. A challenge.

“You laughed at something he said.” It sounds silly now that he says it aloud, but it irks him, your eyes lighting and that sweet sound falling from your gorgeous lips because of another male. A more disgusting male. A more untrustworthy male.

“I didn’t mean to,” you reply, a touch softer. You tug on the bond tethering your souls together, but Azriel does not react.

“It was no accident.”

“You know my desires,” is your simple answer. And with it, you tug on the bond again, harder this time, watching how Azriel sways slightly towards you, the way that his throat bobs. A teasing smile threatens to stretch your lips, but instead you bite at your lip, a taunt. “Do you want me to show you?”

There is no waiting for his answer. You slide the shoulders of your dress off, heat pooling between your legs from his heated stare alone. Your nipples tighten as Azriel follows the movements of your manicured nails, the salacious way your body writhes as the buttery fabric slips down your body. Your eyes flutter shut and your lips part in a gasp as the dress slides across your sensitive breasts.

Azriel closes the distance in one step but your hand flies out, planting right over his pounding heart to stop him in his tracks. 

“No,” you whisper as his brows pull tight. “I want to show you.” Punish him, you mean, for ruining your mission.

He grunts roughly, shaking his wings out to dispel some of the frenetic energy rushing through his veins. Your eyes catch on them, and it gives you an idea. Your heart beats with desire, right in time with your mates. 

Stepping forward, you help him out of his leathers. Your movements are slow, a tease of your fingertips across his chest as you reach around him to undo the buttons of his shirt. Azriel growls low as you intentionally brush across the ridges of his wings, and his large hands come to plant themselves on your hips, steadying you so that you don’t touch them again. 

You look up at him through lowered lashes, licking over your lips seductively. Your mate tracks the motion, and his arms tremble with the effort to keep his hands still instead of dipping down between your thighs where your arousal calls to him.

“Sorry,” you whisper against his lips, and when he closes the distance you pull away, kneeling in front of him. 

Gods, do you look fucking delicious on your knees for him like that. Staring up at him with wide eyes and a sinful smile on your lips. You look like you're two seconds away from taking out his length to lick down his shaft and shove him down your throat, and he can’t wait.

He stays silent, patient as you lean forward to mouth at the fabric keeping his throbbing cock contained. Every breath is a shudder, and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, empty by his sides. He wants to bury them into your hair and guide your head down his cock, but you’ve said that you want to touch him, and until you say otherwise, he will obey.

Azriel’s cock springs free as you pull the leathers from his legs. His glorious, thick thighs on display, packed deep with muscle. You’re soaked, and the urge to grind yourself against him hits full force. Azriel steps out of his trousers and you almost whimper at the sight of his cock pulling away from you, but you remind yourself that you have ulterior motives here.

Your mate helps you to your feet upon your request, and then you’re throwing your arms around his shoulders and kissing him deeply. Distracting him is what you’re doing. Azriel’s hands find your waist and hold you tight, lifting you into his arms with an ease that makes your heart skip. He’s thoroughly occupied with touching your exposed skin and dipping his tongue into your mouth, and then you strike, trailing your fingers across the tips of his wings again.

Instead of ripping his mouth from yours in irritation, Azriel presses further into you, tasting you deep with a noise that you take as approval. Again, you gently finger over the rugged skin of his wings, dipping lower as he raises them for you to touch. 

They’re silky and soft, raised in places where they’d been wounded, but even the silvery scars make him shudder with pleasure. He bites your lower lip, grunting and bucking his hips into yours when you breeze over one of the more sensitive parts of him.

“Bed,” you gasp against his mouth, and he has no complaints.

You seem more than eager, tugging on him with both hands and bond, so Azriel lays himself on the bed, keeping you flush to his chest while he settles. 

It’s perfect for what you want to do.

Azriel bucks but you pull your hips away from his. He groans your name, hands sliding down your sides to curl around your waist and tug you back into his body, but you’re not having it, no matter how much your body craves to be against his.

You chide, “I want to touch, Az, remember?” 

He sighs in frustration. He loves when your hands are all over him, needy and desperate, stroking his cock and leaving marks across his chest, but right now, still annoyed with Rasor and Rhysand and the entirety of the Court of Nightmares, all Azriel wants to do is fill you with his seed until he owns you and you’re screaming his name.

You peck him on the mouth once, twice, pressing your chest flat against his. You shiver at the touch of your hardened nipples against the warmth of his body, but you keep your hips high, hovering above his cock. You can feel the heat it’s giving off, the throbbing uncomfortableness that’s shared down the bond with you, like you might take pity on him and sink down on it.

You won’t.

Instead, you spread his arms wide, tracing the dips and curves of his musculature until your fingers slip off and onto his wings, spread flat against the bed. 

Azriel jumps. Your name is a low warning from his mouth but he doesn’t have the time to say anything else because you’re scratching lightly down the softness of his wings and his words break off into a breathy moan. 

“Fuck, baby.”

And you know he likes it, no matter how much he warns you to stay away. You can feel the heat blooming in your own gut, mirror to his emotions that are drifting down the bond. It feels good, albeit dulled because you’re not him, but it makes your cunt wetter, dripping onto his cock below.

“You feel so good,” you murmur, kissing along his neck. It’s exposed from the way that his head is thrown back at the sensations wracking his body from your touch, and you take full advantage, marking him in the way that he wants to claim you.

“I’d feel even better inside of you,” he curses when you swirl your fingers around the base of his talons, followed by spreading your palms wide and dragging them across the velvety body of his wings again.

“We’ll get there, Az. Soon,” you respond, peeling your torso from his. His hands steel themselves to your hips. He’s afraid that you’re pulling away completely when actually, you’re leaning over one of his wings and brushing your mouth against it.

Your lips on his wings feel like your mouth on his cock—wet, warm, and sensitive. Your touch is gentle, a soft scrape of your nails against the thin skin has him pressing his head further into the pillows, biting through his lip to keep himself from cumming.

The taste of his blood only adds to his arousal.

His body shakes, hands planted so firmly on your hips as you hover above his aching cock that you know he’s leaving bruises. You don’t care, not because he ruined your assignment from the High Lord, but because he is yours just as much as you are his, and you were made to be marked by him.

“If I could make your cum stain my skin, I would,” you whisper against the flesh of his wing. You know he’s heard you because his hips buck higher, seeking out yours, and the debauched moan that slips from his mouth is a song to your soul. “So everyone knows that I am yours, Azriel.”

He cums with a noise that he’s not all too proud of, but his mind is muddled and he’s seeing stars. He spurts hot and white, coating the inside of your thighs and you quake when it splatters on your opening, legs nearly giving out from the feeling alone.

You work him through it, though it feels even more tortuous now, because his wings are sensitive. Your fingers trace pretty lines across the expanse of the leathery skin, tongue lapping across raised scars and dips that have never been touched, so sensitive that he chokes back a whimper, cock twitching, trying to rise again.

It’s as if you’re on top of the world, making your mate cum without touching his raging cock. It’s neglected, red at the tip and weeping still as you slowly retract your touch from his wings. His hands are slack against your waist but his body is taut, rock solid, and there’s a full body blush creeping from his chest and up his neck, embarrassed that he’s cum from your mouth on his wings alone, even if they are the most sensitive part of an Illyrian male. 

But you’re beaming, gaze heavy and hot, aroused at the sight of him undone beneath you. Your cunt clenches with need. Your thighs are soaked and for a fleeting second you regret letting him cum because you need his cock filling you up right this very second or else.

Azriel senses it, as a good mate does. His fingers dig into your hips again before one releases you. He takes his cock in hand, giving it a few rough tugs before guiding you lower. Your head falls back on your shoulders at the feeling of his cum-coated cock nestled against your entrance. Your entire body shudders, but you force yourself to look at your mate, a questioning look in your eyes.

“I need you again,” his voice is rough, strained. Azriel’s cock is sensitive but it’s already filling up again at the touch of your cunt alone. It will be a bit painful until he’s fully erect again, but it won’t be long because you are the most beautiful female he’s ever seen, and your cunt is otherworldly. He’s going to keep you here all night, he decides, and he will take you until the both of you are cum drunk and unable to move. His hazel eyes grow a shade darker at the thought. “Now be a good girl and ride it.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Kinktober Taglist: @bunnymallowo

[tsunami-of-tears]

Wingspans

Poly+ ACOTAR Week 2024 - Day 5 (Favourite Tropes)

Cazriel x Healer Reader

Summary: Y/N is eager to learn more about the Illyrians - for healing purposes of course. 

Pairing Masterlist

Wordcount: 3.2K

A/N: I had an idea and it ran away from me, hence the title change. 

This entire week features some of my favourite tropes (idiots in love and everyone else can see it, aphrodisiacs, friends to lovers, etc) but I’ve focused on wings for this part, along with one bed at the end for a treat 😘

Warnings: wing clipping; female healthcare issues; allusion to domestic abuse; domestic mate stuff; multiple smut scenes (wingplay, PiV, double penetration).   

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:

Reader

For as long as you can remember, you’ve been fascinated with wings. 

Every pair you’ve come across has been uniquely beautiful and awe-inspiring, but the thing you envied most about winged fae was their ability to fly.

You have your father to thank for that - for inheriting the call of the wind. A call you’d never been able to answer. 

Now, thanks to the Cauldron, you were blessed with two winged mates. 

The three of you had been edging around the bond since it snapped a few weeks ago. It hadn’t been formally accepted yet as you all agreed to get comfortable with the dynamic first. 

Since you started courting Cassian and Azriel, your fascination with their wings only grew. 

You would watch how the strong muscles flex as they carried you in the sky. You would admire them stretching out in the warmth of the sun. 

You also started to notice the little quirks both of your mates had. 

When they are cold, they tuck their wings in closer to their frame; when Azriel is proud of something, he holds his wings up higher; and when Cassian laughs, his wings flutter as his shoulders rise and fall. 

There’s also the quirks during sex. 

The subtle twitch and the slight curling of the outer edges as they reach their climax.

Learning about how their wings worked would only make you a better healer, so you spend your limited free time pouring over medical journals and reading Madja’s notes from over the years. The theory was a good foundation, but the best way for you to learn is with practical experiences. 

The first time you got to touch them was with Azriel. He had caught you staring at his wings. 

He was training on the rooftop of the House of Wind, his wings were fully extended behind him. The sunlight glowed red through the thin membrane. They were captivating. 

A few shadows hurry over to greet you, like a playful puppy nipping at your feet.

Azriel turns, smiling at you and catches your gaze. “What are you staring at?” he smirks. 

“Your wings are mesmerising,” you say softly.

Azriel stretches them out wider for you, showing off his wingspan before giving you a wink and returning to his training.

He stopped by your clinic later where you were reading through a detailed tome about wing physiotherapy. You were so engrossed in the text, that you didn’t see him slip in.

You jump when you finally notice him towering above you. “Cauldron, you scared me Az.”

“I’m sorry, you make a cute face when you're concentrating, I didn’t want to interrupt 

What are you reading?” Azriel walks around to your side of the desk, looking down at the scrawled handwriting filling the pages in your hands. He smirks down at you. “Is there a particular reason that you’re so obsessed with wingspans, Y/N?”

Your cheeks heat, and you look up at Azriel. “I want to be prepared… If the need arises.” You glance at the sharp talons poking over your mate’s broad shoulders. 

He leans down and flicks through a few pages of the tome. “The diagrams are good but it’s not quite the same,” he says. “Do you want to examine my wings?”

“Are you sure? I know they are quite sensitive. I don’t want to cross any line.”

The corners of his mouth curl upwards at your apprehension. “It is in my favour to help you, so you can heal me if need be. But, there’s no one I trust more.” 

————

Azriel had removed his shirt, allowing you access to his back and wings. His wings were spread, the leathery membrane taught between each bone. Your fingertips delicately traced each ridge as Azriel expanded and contracted his muscles. 

Your hands are warm with your healing magic as you gently stroke them against the sensitive skin. Azriel’s knuckles turn white as he grips the tabletop he’s braced against. You can tell it’s taking all of his self-control not to fuck you then and there. 

When you ran the edge of his wing between your thumb and index finger, he snapped. Azriel spun around, grabbing your hips and lifting you onto the workbench behind you. 

Azriel’s lips are on yours, hurried and hungry as he takes your lower lip between his teeth. You gasp against his mouth as he bites down before kissing along your jawline. 

His hands roam your body, branding your flesh with need. 

You fumble with the button on Azriel’s pants as he hikes up your dress and pushes your panties to the side. His fingers dip straight in, your core already soaked and throbbing. 

You had known exactly what you were doing when you started examining his wings… 

You finally free Azriel’s cock from the constraints of his leathers, and he grinds his hips against yours. 

Your lips find each other again as he ruts into you; not waiting to let you adjust, you don’t need to. Your veins are filled with lust as he pounds into you. The steady rhythm combined with his thumb on your clit sends you over the edge. 

One hand grips behind his neck tightly as you climax, and you reach with the other to run your fingers along the inside of his wing. That stroke was his undoing, and he finished deep inside you.

You feel his cock twitching as you stay in your embrace, regaining your breath. 

“Fuck, Y/N, that was…” Azriel pants, kissing your forehead tenderly. 

“That was a breach of the healer/patient relationship,” you laugh. 

Azriel smirks, “You can take advantage of me any day, angel.” 

————

The next time, you tried it with Cassian. 

He was underneath you as you rode him. Your hands flat on his chest for support as you rocked back and forth. 

You looked at his wings splayed beneath him, and then to his eyes - a silent question. 

“I’m all yours, you can touch anywhere you want, angel.

He grips your hips harder, lifting his to meet your thrusts.

You softly trace along a prominent vein and Cassian throws his head back, moaning loudly. 

He thrusts up into you without abandon, hitting the spot that has you seeing stars and reaching your climax together. 

The sound of your breathing fills the room as you lay down in Cassian’s arms. Your head resting on his chest. He kisses the top of your head. “I’ll never tire of this,” he whispers against your hair.

————

Soon after that fateful training exercise, you began working closely with the Valkyries. If any conflict arose, you’d be stationed with them as a healer. The all-female unit had grown to 50 warriors in the years since its revival. With Nesta now residing in Autumn with Eris, the unit is led by Gwyn and Emerie.

The first time you met Emerie, your heart broke.

Her wings were nothing like the mighty appendages held high by your mates. 

They were beautiful but brutal. 

Thick jagged scars cut across the planes of her wings, starting at the very base. Her wings had very limited movement, and on cold mornings, you notice a slight twinge in the left one.

Still, Emerie carried herself proudly with her wings as tall as she could manage. A true Valkyrie.

After observing her from afar, your research changed direction. You were driven by your new purpose - helping your friend and the countless females like her. 

There were limited existing resources on clipped wings, so you proposed a clinical study to Rhys. He issued approval instantly and, to Lord Devlin’s dismay, he set up a clinic in Windhaven for you to meet with patients. 

Many females were scared to visit you, out of fear of retaliation from their husbands and fathers. But there were still many brave souls who came forward, allowing you to examine them. 

Progress was slow, but both the physical and emotional support you provided was making a difference. 

————

Today you had a female visiting from another camp. You walk into the waiting room with a warm smile on your face. You’re always so proud to see new patients. 

“Victoria? I’m Y/N, your new healer. Please come inside.” You say to the female. 

She gives you a shy smile, lowering her gaze as she walks past you into your office. 

“Thank you for making the trip to see me. I will do my best to help you, however I can. Take a seat on that cot there,” you gesture towards the bed in the middle of the room. You meet her eyes as you continue, your voice filled with sincerity. “I want you to remember this is entirely on your terms. I will only touch you, or offer treatment with your consent, do you understand?”

Victoria nods, brushing a single tear from her cheek at your words. 

“Good. If it’s okay, I’d like to see the extent of the damage. Can you show me your range of movement?” You give Victoria an encouraging nod. “Lift, wonderful. Now lower them. You’re doing amazing. And now extend them as far as you can outwards - like you’re stretching.” You demonstrate with your arms, extending them out to the side.  

Victoria’s wings shudder slightly as she strains to stretch them out but they barely shift. 

“You’re doing so well, I know this is difficult. Can I touch you? I want to get a feel of the scarring if that’s okay.” 

She nods hesitantly. 

“If you want me to stop at any time, please tell me.”

“Okay,” she says. The first words you heard from her mouth.

“I’m just letting my magic get a sense of the damage, my hand might feel cool along the inner side of your wings.” You move to stand behind Victoria and start on the biggest scar. The tissue is jagged and bumpy, and as pale as the moon. Your healing magic flows through you, washing over the surface of the scar but unable to penetrate. This is the worst case of wing clipping you’ve seen so far. You aren’t sure how much movement she’ll be able to regain, but you have to try.

You walk around the cot to face her and finish your consultation, asking all your standard questions about pain and mobility. 

You pick up a glass jar filled with a numbing salve. “I’d like you to start by applying this to the scars once a day.” You demonstrate the amount of product to apply before handing over the jar. “If you’re particularly sore you can apply it a second time. You may need some help reaching around the back, do you have someone at home that you trust?”

“I live with my sister and her family. She’ll help,” Victoria says.

“Okay good, if you do need somewhere to stay during the treatment, it can be arranged. And if you don’t feel safe, we can help with that too.” 

Victoria nods in thanks.  

“I’ll see you again in 4 weeks. If you run out of the salve, send word.” 

“Thank you, Y/N.” Victoria smiles at you, looking more hopeful than when she first arrived. You help her into her coat and escort her out of the clinic. 

Once outside, you look up and see the sky is swirling with storm clouds and the sun is just about to dip behind the mountains. The wind howls through the surrounding trees. A big gust hits you and you feel the ice in your very bones. 

You bid goodbye to Victoria and trudge home. On clinic days you often stay in Rhys’s mother’s cabin with your mates. 

Warmth envelops you as you step over the threshold, along with the smell of your mates and a hot dinner. 

You kick off your boots and giggle as shadows help you with your coat. Cassian is standing over the stove as Azriel sets the table. Azriel stops what he’s doing to kiss you hello. 

“How was your day, angel?” Azriel asks. 

“It was good. I had a new patient, it always breaks my heart to see the trauma that’s been inflicted.” You instinctively reach for Azriel’s hand, stroking the back with your thumb. “I hope I can ease that pain, even just a little bit.” 

“You’re doing such great things,” Cassian says, juggling the three bowls and a bottle of wine. You and Azriel quickly reach out to help him and sit down together.

“We’re so proud of you,” Azriel states, adoration across his face. 

You smile back. “I do have you both to thank for all of this. I’ve worked with many kinds of wings before, but I think yours are the most fascinating.” 

“What kinds of wings?” Cassian asks. 

“Well, in Spring, many faeries have wings similar to insects. They are very delicate but they don’t have the same soft tissue and nerve ends. Then there are the Peregryns, they have fewer bones in their wings than Illyrians - but the feathers…” You laugh. “If you think Illyrians are protective of their wings, you should see a Peregryn if you touch their feathers.”

Azriel gives you a curious look, “Do you have much experience with Peregryns?”

“Mostly just my father, but I didn’t get to see him very often,” you answer plainly. Cassian nearly chokes on the wine he was sipping and Azriel’s eyes widen in shock.

“How have you never mentioned this?” Cassian asks you incredulously.

“I don’t know, it hasn’t come up. Obviously, I didn’t inherit any physical characteristics. I didn’t think it was important,” you shrug.

“Every part of your history is important,” Azriel says with complete sincerity. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t intentionally keep it from you.” 

“I guess that explains how you took to flying so quickly,” Cassian remarks. 

You shake your head at your mates as you return to your meal. 

You finish up the cozy evening with Cassian and Azriel who had many questions for you about different wingspans. Namely, which race has the biggest. Even if it wasn’t the truth, you would have said Illyrians.

————

A few weeks later, Winter had well and truly arrived. 

You’re in a distant Illyrian camp making some supply drops and home visits. Both Cassian and Azriel join you, using any excuse to spend more time with you. 

It’s a relatively small camp, you have a handful of patients here so it’s only meant to be a quick stop. But, as the afternoon progresses, the weather takes a turn for the worse. 

“We’ll have to stay here overnight,” Cassian says. “We can’t risk flying in a storm and Azriel can’t winnow with both of us.”

Fortunately, there is a rundown but warm inn just outside of the camp. Unfortunately, with the incoming snowstorm, all of the rooms are booked. All but one. 

You enter the tiny room behind your mates who both need to bow their heads to fit inside. It would be a cramped lodging for two high fae but with three of you plus two pairs of wings…

Cramped is a severe understatement. 

————

You get ready for bed as best as you can, manoeuvring around each other with great difficulty. 

Finally you settle in, comforted by the warmth seeping into you from both sides. 

The bond is still new, you’ve not been in such close proximity to your mates, with so few layers between you and not touched them.

The heat radiating off both Cassian and Azriel was driving you wild. And based on their strong scents, it was having the same effect on them. 

Cassian’s groans break the silence. “Godsdamnit, Y/N. You’ll be the death of me.”

“I’m not doing anything!” You exclaim. 

“That’s the point,” Cassian chuckles. 

You decide to tease him further by pushing your butt back against him, rubbing against his hardening length. 

Cassian groans again and wraps his arms around your waist, hands groping your breasts. Azriel leans on his forearm and locks eyes with you. You gasp as Cassian pinches your firm nipples and starts nipping at your earlobe. Cassian’s hand starts to trail lower, and you can’t hold in your moan as it slips down to your core, dragging through your growing wetness.

Desire overwhelms your senses. You don’t care about the space or lack thereof. You need your mates. 

Azriel starts to palm himself, moaning softly as you send images down the twin bonds. Images of how you want them. 

“Are you sure, angel?” Cassian whispers into your ear. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You lean further into his embrace, “I’m sure. I need you both.”

You sit up and straddle Azriel, grinding your dripping slit against him. Azriel holds your hips firmly, pushing you down to provide more friction for both of you. 

You look over at Cassian with slightly glazed eyes. You nod at him, confirming your desire. 

He kneels on the bed behind you, there’s just enough room that he doesn’t hit his head on the low support beam. He squeezes your ass as he kisses down the side of your neck. Azriel starts circling your clit with his thumb as you continue to rock on top of him. 

You lean forward slightly, hands braced on Azriel’s chest as Cassian drags his cock along your slit, collecting your arousal. 

Azriel positions himself at your entrance as Cassian lines up at your rear. 

“Are you quite sure, angel?” Cassian asks again. 

“Yes… Please,” you whine softly.

Azriel lowers your hips, burying himself inside you as you both moan at the tightness. Your eyes flutter at how full you feel, and Cassian hasn’t penetrated you yet.

You feel pressure against your rear as Cassian pushes against you. “Are you ready?” He asks. 

You nod in answer, already struggling for words. 

Azriel resumes his steady circles as Cassian pushes into you. The stretching sensation is so intense you let out a strangled cry. “Are you okay?” Cassian asks. 

“Yep, I just need a moment to adjust.” 

Cassian resumes kissing your jaw as your body gets used to the full feeling.

“I’m ready,” you say and Cassian starts to slowly move in and out. 

Azriel starts thrusting, matching Cassian’s timing. 

“So full,” you moan, your eyes rolling back into your head as the pleasure overwhelms you. 

With each thrust, your clit rubs against Azriel’s groin, bringing you closer and closer to that sweet release. 

“Fuck, I’m not going to last long,” Azriel pants. Cassian moans in agreeance.

Your fingers gravitate to your nipples, pinching the sensitive nubs as you’re hurled to the finish line. 

“Cum for us, angel,” Azriel commands, and you do. 

You cry out as you hit your climax, louder than usual. Both your holes clench as your mates wring scream after scream of pleasure from you. 

They both follow closely behind as you grip them tightly. As the moans and cries subside, the room is filled with the sound of panting. 

Cassian pulls out of you first, collapsing beside Azriel. 

Azriel helps lift you off of him and nestles you in between himself and Cassian. He kisses you lovingly as Cassian’s hand dips between your legs - using a washcloth to clean you up. 

Once clean, he pulls you close to his chest and wraps his wings around you and Azriel. 

Feeling content in your bubble with your mates, sleep finds you and takes you into its loving embrace.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Tags ♡ @littlestw01f @impossibelle @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @the-wall-willow @xasael @lilah-asteria @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe @therealmoonstone

[jeannineee]

please write more soft azriel if you feel for it!! i’ll take anything!😩❤️❤️❤️

Tension

Azriel x Reader

warnings: Wingplay 😌 Azzie gets some well deserved attention. Nothing too explicit, though.

When Azriel arrived home from another day spent in the Court of Nightmares, you could see the stress written on his face; could feel it through the bond.

His wings were slumped behind him, dragging along the floor as he made his way to the bedroom. You silently followed him, knowing that on hard days, Azriel isn’t one to speak very much.

You made quick work of unbuckling his leathers, to which Azriel gave you a grateful smile. You guided him to lay on the bed, on his stomach. You disappeared into the bathroom for a few moments, returning with lavender oil. You poured a bit of the oil along his back, Azriel’s hard muscles rippling under the sensation.

You knelt on the bed beside him, and began at the nape of his neck, kneading the area gently. Azriel went pliant immediately, sighing in contentment.

“You’re too good to me,” he murmured.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you replied, moving to massage his upper back. Azriel hummed as you rubbed away a particularly tense spot.

Azriel turned his head, looking at you from the corner of his eye. He seemed as though he wanted to argue his point. But at the sight of your glare, he thought better of it.

You slowly made your way to the muscles where his left wing met his back. A low curse fell from Azriel’s lips as you massaged the area, his wings fluttering slightly at your ministrations.

“Like a purring cat,” you teased playfully, before moving to his right wing. Azriel swore again, chuckling darkly.

“You keep that up, and we aren’t leaving this bed anytime soon.”

Your heart fluttered at his words; anticipation rolling through you. You smiled knowingly, daring to drag a single finger along the bony ridges of his wing.

Azriel released a throaty groan. Your cheeks flushed at the sound, even more so as you scented his arousal.

At the sight of your reddened face, amusement lined Azriel’s words. “Don’t get shy on me, bunny.” He flipped over, having you to straddle him. He trailed one hand along your waist, the other moving to guide your hand back to his wings. “Keep going.”

So you did.

[readychilledwine]

Monster Fucking

✨️Kink Education with Elizabeth✨️

First things first, we do not yuck someone else's yum on this blog. If you are not interested in this, please scroll or check out "A Hint of Corruption" if you are in need of some Tamlin smut.

Monster fucking, or Teratophilia, is the sexual attraction to monsters, aliens, ect. In a lot of cases, the monsters are sentient beings, but not always. Monster fucking is a little controversial in the kink community with some arguing that it is a paraphilia instead of a kink and vice versa.

It has become popular in the past few years for a few reasons, but the biggest is linked to escapism and fantasy role play. Our dearest Tumblr is actually attributed to the increased interest in monster erotica as well. Most monster fucking fics tend to center around a female main with a male presenting monster, or non gender confirming monsters using tentacles. Monsters sometimes are human looking (looking at the fae with a side eye,) or there's some people who are straight up into dragons.

Teratophilia has actually become so popular in kink/taboo sex culture that it isn't uncommon to find websites selling sex toys based on monsters, the most popular being Bad Dragon. You can also find authors and artists who only write monster fucking fics such as Charlotte Swan.

Again, we do not yuck someone else's yum here. Please scroll on if you are not interested in today Bingo spot. We have a whole month of smut, I promise there will be something else for you 💚

Also a general PSA... If you are "grossed out" by this and using the excuse of it being monsterfucking, but you enjoy wingplay fics involving the batboys, Omegeverse fics, tentacle fics, Ithan shifting or Therion shifting smut fics. Your issue may not be monster fucking. It might actually be who the monster in this fic is. I said what I said. 👉👈

💕 Peep the Valentines Day list here💕

And, as always, NSFW below the cut

Tamlin x Rhysand's sister Reader

Warnings - wing play, p in v, beast form Tamlin, oral (female receiving), borders on definement/corruption kink territory

A/N - we all know I enjoy the Tamlin x Rhysand's sister or Rhysand x Tamlin's Sister thing. So I wanted to give you all both for this.

You flinched as your back hit the ground, a massive paw almost crushing your chest as claws spanned both sides of your neck.

“Tam,” you hated how afraid you sounded. Years ago, there was an ounce of fear in your body for him. “Tamlin, please. I was just sent to check in.”

Green eyes met yours as he growled. He hardly seemed fae anymore.

A beast more than a make, Rhys had warned you.

You should have listened to your brother better.

“Tamlin,” you whispered again. Your hands went to his muzzle. “Tam, please. It's me.”

His growl was almost a mix of a purr. You watched as he shuttered, shifting before you, but still held you down in his fae form.

“Sending you is low,” Tamlin growled, hand tightening around your neck. “Even for your piece of shit brother.”

You knew better than to argue with him regarding his feelings on Rhysand. Just like you knew better than to argue with Rhys about Tamlin.

You stared up at him, eyes watering in fear as his grip didn't soften. You had known the day the bond snapped between you and Tamlin that he would be the death of you, and if it was at his hands you died, that was a peace you could live with.

Your hand moved from his to up his arm, down his chest, then rested on top of his heart. Feeling it beating there, no longer a mess of stone and curses. It matched your own. Echoing through your head day and night. “If I am to die at your hands right now, just know I still love you.”

Tamlin buried his head into your neck, wrapping you in his scent like a comforting blanket. “Question, my dearest Y/n.” You ran your hands to his shoulders, holding him tight against you. You nodded for him to ask. “Why is it that whenever I tackle you in my beast form, you become aroused?”

You froze instantly looking at the sky to think of a good lie. You couldn't find one. Choosing to instead look Tamlin in the eyes and utter a sentence you had only ever admitted to yourself. “I've just always wondered what it would be like to, you know..”

Tamlin smirked at you. “I am afraid I don't know, moon flower. Care to explain?” Flush began to cover your sunkissed cheeks as you looked away from him. “Y/n, do you want me to fuck you as my beast?”

Hearing the question out loud had heat pooling between your legs, a coil tightening already as you laid below him.

It was taboo.

It was dirty.

It was something you'd never even be able to speak of to anyone.

But, Mother, the idea of Tamlin locking you in place with his claws as he fucked you from behind had you melting. “Yes,” it was a breathless confession. He growled above you, quickly forcing you to kiss him.

There were no emotions on the kiss from his end besides raw need. It was a mess of teeth and spit mixing all together.

Tamlin didn't waste a second. He shifted his hands to claws, the sharp rip of fabric echoing through the air as the torn shreds of your dress were thrown aside.

He began to kiss down your body, an occasion poke of what you assumed was a fang scraping the tender flesh of your breasts and stomach.

It was then that the male was gone, replaced by fur and horns and lowering his now massive body to the ground as a cold wet nose ran along your core.

“Mother fuck!” Your back arched as the cold against your heat had you in a pleasurable state of shock.

Tamlin began lapping at your core, a large paw coming across your hips to hold you down as you began wiggling away from the intensity of it. You wanted this, he projected into your mind. Stay still or I'll stop.

You whined begging him to continue by settling down. One of your hands went to his ear, scratching softly at it and tugging the fur there every so often. You gasped pulling hard as he pushed his tongue into you, stretching your walls. His nose nuzzled your clit at the same time leaving to breathless. He slowly began fucking you like that, tasting you completely. You couldn't think of anything but Tamlin. Of the years wasted pretending to hate each other. Of years you two were forced to ignore each other for Rhysand's comfort.

He'd kill you if he ever found out you had literally sullied yourself with a beast.

Regardless of that beast being your mate in a shifted.

Your hand began to lazily scratch his ear again as he brought you wave after Wave of pleasure, mind going numb to anything but that as you focused. He began to purr, tongue vibrating inside of you from the noise. You cried out, back arching again. He chuckled into your mind, increasing his speed, pushing further in with that inhuman tongue. “Tam,” you panted out. “Gods, please don't stop. Please. So fucking close.” You were walking that edge, the coiling so tight inside of you that you feared It wouldn't be a gentle slip from the peak, but a shove face first into the wind.

You felt your magic dropping, wings appearing on your back and splayed below you just twitching in anticipation. You don't know how, but he managed to curl his tongue, hitting a spot so deep inside of you that you would have never found it after centuries of self exploration. The scream that tore through you had the trees shaking, a storm crackling with lightning in the distance. His name was all you could remember as you sang for him, prayed to him.

You hardly had a chance to process what had happened when he forced you on your stomach and for your back to arch for him. A paw landed on the top of your back, holding you down and forcing your wings wide for him. His tongue ran the hard ridge of your left one, causing a full body shudder to go through you and your eyes to roll back. He repeated the motion on the right side, growling as he did.

You could have came from that alone.

Had the sudden brush of a cock much too large for your body interrupted ever thought of pleasure you had. Relax, he cooed to you. Be a good girl and relax.

Vines came and trapped your wrists above you, then your calves to your thighs, pulling them wider apart.

You were completely helpless to him. Spread open and bare, cunt glistening in the light. Tamlin growled, rubbing himself against you again, rutting over and over to soak in himself in your juices.

The slow realization of what you got yourself into fell into your mind and you did the best you could to obey and relax as the head lined up with your entrance. Breathe, he commanded, pushing in as you did.

It knocked all the air from your body, a pained whimper becoming all you could do to communicate. He began licking your wings again, watching as the pain and pleasure mixed through your body. He switched to licking the soft membrane, male pride swelling as you pushed back against him moaning his name and fucking yourself on to him.

Each little movement of your body had him sinking deeper and deeper. He knew there was no way in hell you would be able to take all of him, but Mother watching you subconsciously try, watching you whimper and writhe below him had all instinct falling to his beast.

He began thrusting in time with your movements, tongue still dancing on your wings in a practiced motion. Licking them like it had not been years since he'd gotten to lay with you in his other form.

He knew your body like the back of his hand still, and the fae part of him kept reminding himself of that.

This wasn't some random female from the Rite below him.

This was his mate.

Regardless of how he wanted to push further in, to fuck you like a bitch in heat, he couldn't.

The pace he had set was magic for you as your body still stretched for him. The burn had subsided enough that pleasure was shooting from ever nerve, begging for more and more.

You were going to finish to fast, but the slick constantly building and increasing had him deeper and deeper, inching you closer and closer to the Base of him.

You felt like you could no longer breathe. All the room in your body had been replaced with Tamlin and Tamlin only.

A miss timing from both of you had you screaming again, whining as pain mixed with absolute bliss all while shock hit you from his side of the bond.

You had managed to fuck yourself down to his knot, and now there was no saving you from the monster every fae had lurking in their skin.

He began slamming into you at a brutal pace, watching as you became a mess panting his name. He couldn't help but to growl, mouth forgetting about your wings and going to the pulse point of your neck.

It smelled so distinctly you. Vanilla musk and orchids mixed with sex and lust.

He felt your walls twitching around him over and over, listened as your cries became more desperate Until you were begging, pleading for release.

He was right on the edge as well, the fae side of him stroking the bond to let you know.

That Single wave of his pleasure, of his pride, of his need set you over, walls squeezing him so tightly he thought you would break. You sent him everything back, letting him feel the electricity shooting through you, and he came soon after.

It felt like wave after wave of cum was emptied into you, filling you much too full until he pulled out and some was allowed to leak from your aching core.

The vines slipped away, allowing you to fall. A soft hand replaced that paw, warm lips caressing the shell of your ear as praise after praise spilled from them. “Did so good baby, so fucking good. You looked so beautiful like that.”

Tamlin fell beside you, snapping clothes onto Both of you, a scent shield going up as a sound shield fell. “Your brother is here to collect you.”

You didn't remember anything after that. Mind falling to darkness as a wave of Tamlin's magic put you to sleep.

General Taglist:

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@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth

Valentines Day Taglist:

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@justasillylittlegoofyguy

[jadeddangel]

Maybe some mating season Lute with her girlfriend? (With some wingplay maybe?)

I cant really write smut but I can make headcannons and examples of what she may do and certain kinks she may have!

Strap play is on point

Wing play is 100% a must

She usually focuses on her partners pleasure

Mean service dom

If you are a brat she'll spank it out of you

That week is the longest of your fucking life

You want a break? Your funny nice try

Your passing out? She already asked for consent at the beginning of the week to keep going

She'll take 2 hour naps between sessions and then it's back to it