gem

It began as any other golden morning in Velaris — sunlight spilling lazily through the gauzy curtains, the distant murmur of the Sidra brushing against the city’s edge, and that warm, comforting scent that always meant home.

You usually slept through all of it.

Mor liked that about you — how peaceful you looked in those quiet dawn hours, tangled in blankets, one arm draped dramatically across the bed as if declaring war on the world for daring to wake.

Except this morning, you weren’t there.

The space beside her was empty. The sheets were cold.

For a moment, Mor lay still, blinking at the absence. Maybe you’d gotten up to grab a drink of water. Maybe you’d gone to open the window. But the apartment was too quiet — the kind of quiet that made her wings twitch.

She sat up slowly, curls falling over her shoulders, and called softly,

“Sweetheart?”

Nothing.

The silence stretched. Then, faintly, came the sound of something clattering in the kitchen.

Mor frowned. You never cooked this early. You never cooked at all before coffee.

She padded barefoot down the hall, still half-smiling, ready to wrap her arms around you and nuzzle your neck while you pretended to protest — “*Mor, I’m trying to— stop— that tickles!*”

But the moment she reached the kitchen doorway, the air changed.

You stood at the counter in one of her shirts, sleeves rolled to your elbows, jaw set, hair pulled back in that messy way she loved — only this time, there was no softness in your expression. Your brow was furrowed, eyes sharp, mouth pressed into a thin line.

The pan hissed on the stove. The scent of eggs and herbs filled the air.

You didn’t even look at her.

“Morning,” Mor said, her voice all honey and sunlight as always.

No answer.

You flipped the eggs. Set the pan down.

Mor waited. Smiled. “You’re up early, love. Planning to surprise me?”

Still nothing. Not even a hum of acknowledgment.

Her smile faltered slightly. “...Alright. Guess not.”

You grabbed a plate, set it on the counter, and began slicing fruit with slow, surgical precision. Mor leaned against the doorframe, watching.

You moved like someone trying to keep their hands busy, like silence was safer than whatever might come out if you opened your mouth.

She tilted her head. “Did I—”

You opened a cabinet, ignoring her completely.

“Okay,” Mor murmured under her breath, “so she’s mad. Good to know.”

You finished arranging the plate, took a fork, and sat down to eat without so much as a glance in her direction. Mor crossed the kitchen, trying again.

“You didn’t sleep well?”

No reply.

“Bad dream?”

Still nothing.

“You’re doing that thing where you pretend I don’t exist. Which is frankly cruel, considering how adorable I am first thing in the morning.”

You stabbed a piece of fruit.

Mor blinked. “...Is that an orange or my heart?”

Nothing.

Her confusion began shifting into mild panic. You never ignored her this long. Not even after the time she accidentally burned your favorite scarf.

She leaned across the table, chin propped on her hand, studying you with a smile that was trying very hard not to be nervous. “You know, I’ve fought in wars, faced monsters, stared down High Lords — but the scariest thing in this world is this face you’re making right now.”

Your only reaction was the slow, deliberate act of setting down your fork, wiping your hands, and standing. You took your plate to the sink, rinsed it, dried it, and placed it neatly in the cupboard.

Mor’s golden eyes tracked every movement, utterly baffled.

“Sweetheart,” she tried again, more serious now. “Talk to me.”

You turned. Looked at her — really looked — for the first time that morning.

And the glare you gave her was sharp enough to make even the Morrigan flinch.

Then you brushed past her, silent as a shadow.

The smell of your shampoo lingered after you’d gone.

The rest of the morning was torture.

Mor sat in the living room pretending to read, eyes darting to you every few seconds. You cleaned. Not the casual kind of cleaning you usually did while humming. No, this was full-blown declaration of war cleaning.

Shelves reorganized. Floors scrubbed. Windows polished until they gleamed.

At one point, she walked in to find you moving all the cushions on the sofa, rearranging them into perfect alignment.

“You’re— you’re dusting the lamps, sweetheart,” she said weakly.

Silence.

“You hate dusting lamps.”

You kept dusting.

Mor rubbed a hand over her face. “This is it. She’s finally snapped. The House of Wind’s chaos gene finally claimed her soul.”

By midday, she was pacing behind you like a lost puppy while you sorted laundry.

“Okay,” she said aloud, counting on her fingers, “so. Did I forget an anniversary? No, that was last month. Did I say something stupid? Unlikely — I’m charming. Did Cassian say something and you think it came from me? He does that sometimes.”

You folded a towel. Mor leaned closer.

“Blink twice if this is about Cassian.”

You blinked exactly once.

Mor groaned. “Okay, not Cassian. Good. Because I swear, if this is about something he—”

You moved to hang the clothes.

“—or is it Nesta? Did she say something? Because if she did, I can totally—”

You shut the laundry room door in her face.

“—take that as a no,” she mumbled to herself.

By late afternoon, Mor was a wreck.

She’d tried everything — humor, gifts, flattery, food. You’d barely acknowledged her existence. The silence wasn’t loud anymore; it was suffocating.

She even went so far as to pull out a bottle of your favorite wine, setting it on the counter like a peace offering.

You glanced at it, then at her, then went back to cleaning the counter.

Mor nearly screamed.

When you left the kitchen, she flopped dramatically onto the couch, burying her face in a pillow.

“She’s going to kill me,” she muttered. “She’s actually going to kill me and no one’s even going to find my body because she’ll bury it under the floorboards after scrubbing them clean.”

The thought of calling Feyre crossed her mind. For all of half a second.

Then she remembered how you would react if she did that.

“Okay,” she whispered to herself. “No calling Feyre. No calling anyone. Figure it out, Mor. You’re ancient, gorgeous, clever—”

From down the hall came the faint sound of a door closing.

She sighed, pressing a hand over her heart. “—and completely doomed.”

By the time the sky blushed pink over the mountains, Mor had exhausted her last ounce of patience. She’d given you space. She’d given you silence. And now she was done pretending she wasn’t worried sick.

She approached your bedroom door softly, fingers brushing the handle.

“Y/N?” she called, voice gentler now.

No answer.

She pushed the door open.

You were curled on the bed, facing the window, shoulders trembling ever so slightly. The room was dim — the curtains drawn, the last light of sunset casting golden streaks over the floor.

The sight of you like that — small, quiet, hurt — made Mor’s heart squeeze painfully.

She crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch you yet. “Sweetheart,” she said softly. “You’ve been ignoring me all day. I don’t know what I did, but please— please talk to me.”

Still no response.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I’m not good at this. You know that, right? Feelings. Apologies. But if I said something—if I forgot something—just tell me. Don’t shut me out like this.”

The sound you made then — a broken, watery sniffle — nearly undid her.

Mor froze. “Hey,” she whispered, voice trembling, “are you crying?”

You turned your head slowly, eyes red, lashes wet.

Her heart dropped. “Oh, gods, baby…”

You sat up, pulling your knees to your chest. “I’m— I’m fine.”

Mor gave a soft, disbelieving laugh. “You’re not fine. You’ve been glaring at me for twelve hours.”

You wiped your face with the back of your hand. “You didn’t do anything.”

Mor blinked. “What?”

“It was a dream,” you muttered miserably.

Her brow furrowed. “A… dream?”

You nodded, cheeks heating. “You— you cheated on me.”

Mor stared at you. Blinked once. Then again.

“You’ve been mad at me all day because of a dream?”

You groaned, covering your face. “It felt real, Mor! You were smiling with her and— and touching her—”

Mor’s shock melted into pure amusement. A slow, teasing grin curved her mouth.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered, crawling closer until she could brush a strand of hair from your face. “You jealous little thing.”

You swatted at her weakly. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not laughing,” Mor said — though she very obviously was. “I’m—” She caught herself when she saw fresh tears gathering in your eyes. “Hey, hey. I’m sorry. It must’ve been awful.”

You sniffled. “And my period started this morning.”

Mor froze. “Oh. Oh, gods.”

You nodded miserably. “So yes, I hate everything.”

Mor immediately pulled you into her arms, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You poor, tragic creature. Betrayed by your own imagination and your own uterus.”

That earned a shaky laugh from you, muffled against her shoulder.

“Shh,” Mor murmured, rocking you slightly. “I’ve got you. I promise, I’m not going anywhere. Not even in your dreams.”

You exhaled softly, letting yourself melt into her warmth, the scent of citrus and sunlight wrapping around you. “You’re lucky I love you,” you mumbled.

Mor smiled against your hair. “Oh, I know. Trust me, I know.”

And for the first time that day, you let yourself believe it.

The sun filters through the curtains of Mor’s room — gold spilling lazily across the sheets, across you, across the woman who’s trying very hard to breathe under the weight of your body.

Because you haven’t moved.

At all.

Not since you woke up tangled in her arms at dawn and decided, quite firmly, that you weren’t going anywhere.

Mor blinks awake, her hair a golden mess, her voice still rough with sleep. “Good morning, sunshine,” she murmurs softly, smiling when she feels you nuzzle closer into her neck. Her fingers trail down your back, slow, comforting. “You’re warm,” she hums. “And very clingy this morning.”

You don’t answer — only press a little closer, your leg hooking over hers, your face buried against her shoulder.

Mor laughs quietly. “I take it I’m forgiven, then?”

You hum something that might be yes — or maybe just a sleepy sound of protest when she tries to move.

She chuckles again, brushing her lips against your temple. “Sweetheart, I need to get up. Cassian will burn the kitchen down if I don’t—”

You tighten your arms around her waist immediately. “Let him,” you mumble, voice muffled by her skin. “Let him burn it.”

Mor freezes for a heartbeat — then bursts out laughing so loudly the bed shakes. “You’re serious?”

You lift your head just enough to glare at her, hair all messy and expression deadly serious. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Oh, I see,” she teases, brushing a stray lock from your cheek. “So this is punishment now? I survive a day of being ignored, and my reward is you turning into a koala?”

You don’t even deny it. “Exactly,” you mutter, laying your head back down. “You deserve it.”

Mor tries — she really does — to wriggle free. But the second she lifts an inch from the mattress, you make this small, wounded noise that hits her straight in the heart.

She sighs dramatically, falling back beside you. “Alright, fine. I’ll stay. The world can crumble. Cassian can burn the entire House of Wind for all I care.”

You grin against her skin, satisfied.

But after a few minutes, Mor tilts her head toward you again. “You know,” she says softly, “you were scary yesterday. You didn’t talk to me for hours. I almost begged Feyre for help.”

You snort at that, finally peeking up at her. “You deserved it.”

Mor gasps theatrically. “I did not! I was an innocent victim in your dream betrayal!”

“You cheated on me!” you protest, half serious, half joking — though your pout is very real. “In my dream! With some faceless fae!”

Mor bites her lip to stop from laughing. “Sweetheart, I think the real tragedy here is that your imagination doesn’t even let me cheat with someone interesting.”

You gasp, sitting up and crossing your arms, glaring at her in mock outrage. “Oh, so you wanted to cheat with someone interesting?”

Mor’s grin softens. She sits up too, cupping your face in her hands. “Never,” she whispers, kissing your forehead. “In this life or any other, there’s no one but you. Even your dreams can’t convince me otherwise.”

Your heart squeezes — but instead of replying, you push her down again and curl up on top of her chest.

“Still not letting you go,” you murmur stubbornly.

Mor strokes your back, amused and utterly gone for you. “I’m starting to think you mean that literally.”

You nod against her. “You’re mine today. No training, no errands, no nothing. Just me.”

She sighs, but her tone is soft, indulgent. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You hum in satisfaction, tracing lazy circles on her stomach with your finger.

By the time afternoon arrives, Mor has fully accepted her fate.

You follow her everywhere — to the kitchen, to the balcony, even to the library. You cling to her arm while she tries to make tea, standing so close that she can barely move her elbows.

“Sweetheart,” she laughs, trying to reach the kettle, “if you want tea, I kind of need to be able to breathe.”

“You don’t need tea,” you say without looking up, cheek still pressed against her shoulder. “You have me.”

Rhysand walks in at that very moment, freezes, and then silently turns around, muttering something about newly mated nonsense as he leaves.

Mor loses it, laughing until she has tears in her eyes. You glare at her, but your lips twitch, betraying you.

Later, on the balcony, you end up sitting in her lap, both of you wrapped in a blanket, the sun setting over Velaris. The city glows below — soft lights, the sound of laughter, the smell of jasmine.

Mor rests her chin on your shoulder, voice low. “You know,” she whispers, “if this is what I get after you ignore me for a day, I might start misbehaving more often.”

You turn your head sharply, meeting her mischievous grin with a warning look. “Don’t even joke about that.”

Mor raises her hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. No betrayal — not even in dreams.”

You nod firmly, then lean forward to kiss her cheek. “Good.”

There’s a long silence after that, comfortable and warm.

Your fingers find hers, intertwining naturally. She looks at you — at the stubborn little crease between your brows, at the softness in your eyes when you think she’s not watching — and she realizes she’s utterly, helplessly gone for you.

Mor brushes her lips against your hair. “You’re impossible,” she whispers.

You smile faintly. “You love it.”

“Unfortunately,” she murmurs with a smirk, “I do.”

You turn in her lap, wrapping your arms around her neck, your voice muffled against her skin. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

And true to your word, you don’t.

When the night finally settles over Velaris, you’re still there — wrapped around her, warm and safe, refusing to give her even an inch of space.

"If you don't fucking have time for me anymore, just tell me." Tamlin looked at you in shock from his throne. You felt your chest tightening, eyes beginning to water as he just stared at you processing your anger.

He had not touched you in weeks. He hasn't kissed you in days. He spent hours holed up in his repaired office with other high Lords negotiating trade routes and imports. And when he wasn't there, he was in other courts doing the same thing.

"What, little dove, do you mean by that?" He stepped closer to you, setting that damned crown of antlers and thorns on the throne.

You didn't back down, staring up at him. "It's clear I've over stayed my welcome and you are tired of my presence," a dramatic statement fueled by your anger. "I have clearly served my purpose and you are done with me. So just tell me that instead of leaving me here alone constantly."

Tamlin's face fell into a further look of shock. He had told you what he was doing, that these next few months would be insane and likely lonely for both of you as he worked to reset the glory Spring once had.

Glory you were helping him bring back with your Mother blessed gifts to repair land and grow damn near anything. "Dove," he hand came to your cheek, stroking softly, "y/n, I warned you I would be busy and gone a lot this month. I have been trying to come home to you every night-"

"And yet I go to bed and wake up alone-"

He interrupted you, his pet peeve causing anger to hit him. "I was not done speaking, dove. Do we need a lesson on manners and the behavior of a Lady again?" He began backing you to the wall. "Do you need a reminder of who you belong to? Of who cares for you and this beautiful body?"

Your back hit the window, hands going flat against the glass as the throne room doors slammed shut and locked. "Tamlin-"

Green eyes flickered to yours, a mix of arousal and annoyance shining in them. "I believe you are fully aware we are past first names at this point, pet. Get on your knees."

Submission fueled your brain as he pushed down on your shoulders, gathering your hair before putting into the leather he had around his wrist. "Open your mouth," your hands were on his pant ties already focused on that task until a slap came.

You gasped loudly, eyes watering. It wasn't hard, but it still stung, and you looked up at him.

He had not had to slap you for disobedience in years. Not since he had met you, and this began. You were his good girl. His pretty little pet he constantly praised. Your lip trembled as tears fell. "Don't give me that look. Open your fucking mouth."

You sniffled, doing as you were told and waited. "There she is," two fingers gently brushed your tongue, pushing in and coating themselves in your spit. "You're going to suck my cock while I explain to you, again, what is currently happening in my court and why master is gone so much lately."

You didn't nod, eyes still watering. "You want to be my good girl. Don't you?" Tamlin pushed those two fingers into your mouth and down your throat. "Look at me." Your eyes fluttered up, breathing through your nose as he pushed further, causing you to gag. "I can't wait to fucking ruin you."

You whined around them, sucking greedily now. "No, pet, you have to listen first. You broke a rule, you have to be punished. You understand, don't you?"

Your eyes had glazed over, so focused on sucking his fingers that all you could do was nod. "That's my good girl." Tamlin untied his pants, pulling this cock out and smiled as you moaned at the sight. He had ruined you so beautifully already, but you had been so innocent, so untouched by anything when he found you that every chance to fuck you stupid was new and exciting.

He removed his fingers, using the saliva to pump his heavy cock while you watched. Your tongue was out, waiting for him to give you what you wanted, waiting for him to force you to listen. He placed the head on your tongue and nodded, giving you permission to pleasure him.

"As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me," he held you down, nose flush against his pelvis, watching as you swallowed and sucked his length. "I have been working tirelessly every damn day to be home to you every night. That means there's going to be a lot of mornings alone since I am constantly winnowing the lands to keep you and your slutty little mouth and cunt happy."

He moaned as he pulled up, watching you take a deep breath, then he slammed back in, laughing as you gagged around him. "I am not tired of you. I am not done with you. I am not planning to just toss you aside, pet. I am busy. You like your pretty dresses and jewelry, don't you? Like having a staff to pamper and wait on you? How do you think your High Lord gets you those things? Do you think they're just here and free to you since you're so damn pretty?"

He began fucking your mouth, focusing on that for awhile before abruptly pulling you off of him and ripping you up by your hair.

You moaned, walking at his pace until he threw you over the arm of the throne and held you down with a growl that warned you not to move.

A loud rip filled the room, followed by a chilly spring breeze leaving goosebumps along your body. "Such a beautiful girl," you could hear his smile as you heard his clothing hit the floor and felt a hand go to your folds. Tsmlin groaned at the wetness he found there, the sweet essence coating his hand and practically pouring out of you. He patted your clit softly, watched as you wiggled and moaned his name.

Gods, he loved you. Every inch of you. Every dip and soft curve of your body. Every laugh. Every noise you made.

How could you ever think he'd grown tired of you?

Tamlin took his now coated hand, running it along the shaft of himself as he ran the head through your folds then sat. "Beg. Beg like the good little whore you are. Beg for my forgiveness and for my cock."

"Master please," a good start. "Gods, please I am so sorry. I'll be a good pet. I'll listen and wait at home. Please just fuck me. I need you inside me, please. It's been so long."

He hummed, hand running your spine and tangling into your hair. "It has been too long, my love. Much too long. I should rectify that." He entered you in one swift thrust. The throne began digging into your hips, brushing them as he wasted no time pounding into you.

He ripped you up by your hair again, forcing your back to arch like a bow for him as he pulled the cord that was your pleasure taunt. "I love you, you spoilt little pet. You fucking know this but come in here to yell at me?" His words matched the harshness of his cock working inside of you. You could help the wetness beginning to pool more and more at each word. "I got help to be worthy of you. Signed trade deals with courts I didn't want to be able to spoil and care for you. I get one full day home this week to get ready for a High Lords' meeting, and you want to come in here running your mouth?"

He changed the angle of his thrusts, hitting that spot deep inside of you. You felt your body going pliant, and his arms moved to hold you up by your elbows, pulling you back slightly. "Tell me you're sorry and let you cum. I can tell you are right there. I can stop right fucking now."

"No!" You felt yourself crying again. The pleasure becoming too much. "I'm sorry I was so ungrateful. I'll be good. Gods, please, my mate, my High Lord, please."

Tamlin didn't stop, speed increasing as each drag stretched your now tightening walls forcing them open and swallowing his cock whole. "Cum. Scream my name for his whole court to know who owns you."

You obeyed. Your mind, soul, heart, and body were his. You were his. He had ensured that the second he started bedding you, ruining you for anyone who may wish to touch you, and he'd continue to ruin you.

He came inside of you, holding you down by your neck again and forcing you into submission as you milked him. "Do not ever come into my throne room acting like that again. I was nice, y/n. I won't be nice next time."

You smiled, looking back at him, and risked it all. "You're so easy to manipulate, Tam. I got the sex I needed just by being a brat for 5 minutes. I can't wait until you see what else I've done."

His face fell, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "You won't be leaving our bedroom tomorrow, will you pet?"

You felt him pull out, smiling as he turned you and picked you up. "Nope," you popped the last syllable before kissing his cheek.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

↬ 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞 ↫

“get on your knees for me, sweetie.” Mor’s knuckles are whisper against your warm, flushed cheek. Barely grazing your skin. She looks angelic. Loose, golden spirals cascade down over her shoulders, framing her heavy breasts. Rising and falling with each breath, the only sign of her own neediness. Long fingers tangle in the roots of your own hair, urging you to do as she’d said.

You comply, keeping your wide eyes locked on her face. Hooded eyes watch as you lower yourself to the floor in front of her. Mor bites her painted red lip, power trip rushing to her head, loving the sight of you submitting.

Mere inches from her mound, you squirm on the spot. Desperation in your gaze as your eyes flicking repeatedly up to her face and back down again. You can smell her. Scenting the arousal seeping from her cunt. Only the grip in your hair holding you back from leaning forward and inhaling deeply. “Mommy.” You could swear her scent only grew stronger as the whimper slipped past your lips.

Mor pouts down at you, “I know, baby, you’re being so good for me,” she tilts your head back, slowly slinging a soft, toned thigh over your shoulder. You almost moan out, mouth watering, her heat so close to your face, you can feel her warmth. “Want to help make me feel good, isn’t that right?”

A string of whiney pleas escape your throat, cheek nuzzling into her thigh, mouthing at her skin. Mor gasps, feeling your teeth nick her skin. “Shit…okay baby,” she wets her lips, “Tongue, baby. Stick out your tongue.” Her free hand slips down her body as your warm and wet muscle passes the seam of your lips. Fingers slide between her legs, pausing to swiftly tease her clit, she moans before dipping further. Middle and pointer finger spreading her folds, letting you see her pink cunt, dripping with slick, tight hole clenching in anticipation. “See what you do to me, sweet girl? Lick. Go on, have a taste.”

Pleasured sighs fall from Mor’s mouth as you begin kitten licking her cunt. Your tongue swiping up between her folds, collecting the slick that had been building there. You moan loudly against her, the vibrations sending a visible shudder through her body. The tip of your tongue teases her pulsing hole. You watch Mor’s jaw drop when you slowly ease your way inside. She tightens, a choked, high-pitched sound leaving her as you wiggle your tongue, and she tugs your hair in response. “Now move- move your tongue to my clit.” She tells you, regaining her composure.

Your tongue finds her taut nub, flattening against it. “Good girl, stay like that okay?” Mor tests a buck of her hips, the leg she has wrapped around you tightening to give her more stability. “I’m just gonna use you now, sweetie. Gonna fuck myself on your pretty face till I cum all over you.” She smirks through a groan, grinding her hips down once…twice. Again and again. Finding a rhythm that hastens the coil winding deep in her belly.

You’re whining against her, hands reaching out to clasp onto her thighs. Your own squeeze together in an attempt to relieve the throbbing tension between them. “You like this, baby?” She cocks her head, lips parted to allow soft moans to fall out as they come. “Like being a warm mouth mommy can use to get off on?” It’s not a serious question. She knows you like it. She can see the glaze in your eyes, hear the need in your whines. Mor knows there’s nothing going on in that head of yours. And it spurs her on, quickening the pace in which she grinds her clit back and forth and back and forth over your outstretched tongue.

“Yeah, you do. Gone fuckin’ silly haven’t you, sweetie?” She grits out, panting, not letting her eyes leave your face, “That all it takes? A cunt in your face? Makes you all stupid?” Her hips buck more widely against your face, words breathier. “Or is it just mine, hm? Is it mommy’s cunt you can’t resist? Yeah?” All you can do is moan and whine, tears lining your eyes as the grip in your hair turns into a pleasurable pain. Yet, that seems to do the trick. You watch Mor shake, whining loudly, climaxing hard. The vibrations from your tongue had tipped her over the edge.

“Fuck. fuck,” She whimpers, guiding your mouth lower as her clit becomes overstimulated. She pushes your face into her cunt, winding her hips as your tongue laps at the cum leaking from her hole. She jolts when your nose bumps her sensitive clit, heightening the pleasure your tongue is giving her as your work between her drenched folds, slurping her slick and fucking into her hole.

Mor is as generous as rhys. that generosity streak runs in their family. she buys you gifts for every occasion. you never had fine jewelry until her and she makes sure you get a new addition to your collection at least once per season.

she has a love/hate relationship with key lime pie. she’ll eat it if it’s offered and wince at the strange, biting tang of citrus but still finish the whole slice, groaning about it as she does so. she’s prefers more classically decadent treats like chocolate covered strawberries, raspberry chocolate mouse, anything chocolatey with whipped cream.

she loves babies. Being Nyx’s fun rich auntie Mor is the highlight of her immortal existence. She loves poking his little cheeks and rocking him to sleep and buying him oodles of presents. try and take the babe from her when he’s cuddling on her chest after a big solstice dinner, I dare you. whether or not she has babes of her own really depends on if the two of you decide that’s your path but even so, I think she’d wait a long, long time before starting a family. She wants to have time to live for herself first.

when you two agree to the mating bond, she gets you an entire assortment of snacks. she wants you to be able to choose what you want. Mor isn't much of a cook so it's mainly snacks: fruit, chocolates, bread with butter, but it means the world to you that she put so much thought into it. you two decide to split a piece of chocolate.

she’s not super into books. not because she isn’t smart, I think she just prefers other hobbies that are more kinesthetic— dancing, working out, making snow angels, swimming, etc.

red is her signature color but she has a fondness for white and gold, especially on women. If you wear a white chiffon gown with gold accessories, she’ll melt. she’ll follow you around like a puppy and do anything you ask “baby, you look like a goddess”

picks flowers every year on Andromeda’s death anniversary and then sets them in the Sidra to float out into the ocean. usually it’s a small white flower to symbolize the purity of their love and she places it in the water and watches the current carry it out to sea. she stands there for a long, long time.

she’s very private with not only her sexuality and history but just in general. she doesn’t offer up information about herself willingly because she has a fear of it being used against her. so once you two are dating and there’s established trust, she will just casually drop random lore and you will be like “wait you have a tattoo? where?”

kind of a neat freak. her bed is always made and her sheets are always crisp and clear. no clutter in her bed or anywhere in her room. the only time she likes her bed messy is when you two trash it🙂‍↕️

nsfw

she prefers making love by candlelight. Sex has had to mean different things to her in her life so when she’s intimate with someone she truly loves, trusts, and wants to be with (you😍), she wants it to be as romantic as possible. Lights off and pillar candles scattered all throughout your room to set a sexy, ambient tone.

lingerie is her love language. It’s practically part of the foreplay for her. Whether it’s her own or yours, it always turns her on. She loves the femininity and sultriness of it, loves to pull and paw at the ribbons and zippers and buttons and sometimes tear it off altogether. She practically has on fancy underwear all the time and you grow quite the extensive collection once you’re with her.

still not huge on PDA even after being out to her family. holding hands or putting your legs in her lap is one thing but she won’t stick her tongue down your throat in the middle of family dinner

It began with the visions.

Not the usual flashes of blood and war, of shadows lurking just beyond reach. No, this was different. Softer.

You saw him first in dreams.

A small boy with raven hair and striking blue eyes, darker than any sky but deep enough to drown in. His wings were not like Rhys’s—black, feathered, vast. They stretched around him like a shield, tiny but fierce.

You didn’t know his name yet, but you knew him.

It wasn’t strange for visions to come in fragments, but this—this was vivid. Tangible. You woke up breathless, the echo of his laughter ringing in your ears as if he had just been there, wrapped in your arms.

Mor noticed first.

“You’re making baby clothes,” she said, leaning against the doorway of your room with arms crossed, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

You glanced up from the small knitted hat in your hands. The delicate stitches shimmered faintly, woven with magic you couldn’t quite contain.

“I know,” you murmured, frowning slightly at the unfinished edges.

“And…?” Mor prompted, tilting her head.

You shifted in your seat, gaze drifting to the pile growing in the corner. Tiny jumpers. Socks so small they looked fit for a doll. Blankets soft as clouds, embroidered with stars and moons.

“I don’t know,” you admitted.

Mor’s smile softened. She walked over, brushing her fingers over a pale blue tunic. “It’s beautiful,” she said quietly.

You hesitated before asking the question lingering in your mind. “Do you think I’m losing it?”

Mor huffed a laugh. “Maybe a little.”

“Comforting,” you deadpanned.

“But,” she added, kneeling beside you, “you’ve never been wrong about your visions before. If you’re making these, it means something.”

You searched her golden eyes for doubt but found none.

So you continued.

Elain helped next. When you shyly asked her to teach you how to knit properly, she didn’t question it. She simply sat beside you in the garden and guided your hands through each delicate loop.

“I think you’ll be good at this,” Elain said one afternoon, as sunlight filtered through the greenhouse glass.

You smiled faintly, letting the rhythmic motion soothe you.

Weeks passed, and still, the visions came.

Then one evening, Feyre made the announcement.

The Inner Circle gathered at the townhouse, laughter and wine filling the room as Rhys gently pulled Feyre to her feet.

“I have news,” Feyre said, cheeks flushed with quiet excitement.

Her hand rested over her stomach.

The room stilled.

Your heart leaped into your throat, and suddenly you understood.

The little boy.

Mor’s hand found yours beneath the table, squeezing gently.

And when Feyre’s gaze met yours, the softest flicker of understanding passed between you.

Time seemed to blur after that.

The closer Feyre’s due date grew, the more you found yourself involved—though no one ever directly asked.

You were simply there.

When Feyre needed rest, you brought tea and wrapped her in blankets you had stitched. When Rhys fretted (which was often), you reminded him that everything would be fine.

And when Nyx was born, the first time you held him felt like something ancient and familiar, as if the universe had been quietly weaving your lives together long before he existed.

His tiny hands curled around your finger, wings twitching beneath the soft blanket. His blue eyes blinked sleepily up at you.

“I’ve seen you before,” you whispered, brushing your thumb gently across his brow.

Nyx cooed in response, nuzzling closer against your chest.

Mor watched from the doorway, her smile soft as starlight.

Later that evening, as the house quieted, Mor found you sitting by the fire with Nyx cradled in your arms. His wings tucked neatly against his back, rising and falling with each soft breath.

“You’re good with him,” Mor said, settling beside you.

You looked down at the tiny bundle. “I feel like I’ve known him forever.”

Mor rested her head against your shoulder, her warmth seeping into you.

“Maybe you have,” she murmured.

The fire crackled, casting golden light across the room.

And for the first time in a long while, you felt whole.

\*/

Almost a year and a half later, the visions started again. They came in faint flickers—strange, ancient spells you couldn’t place. At first, you thought they were nothing more than dreams. But as the days passed, the same swirling symbols and whispered chants continued to follow you.

You didn’t tell Mor. Not yet.

But Amren noticed.

"You’re reading again," she commented one evening, lounging in her favorite chair at the river house. "That’s never a good sign."

You glanced up from the heavy tome in front of you, smirking faintly. "I’m fine."

She snorted. "No, you’re not." Amren’s silver eyes narrowed as she crossed the room, peering over your shoulder at the curling script. "Where did you find this?"

"Your collection. Don’t pretend you didn’t notice I borrowed it."

"I notice everything," she replied dryly. A pause. Then, quietly, "This is fertility magic."

Your heart skipped. "What?"

Amren tapped a line of text with one sharp nail. "Old magic. Binding. Difficult to weave." She glanced at you. "Someone’s been feeling hopeful."

Your mouth opened, but the words stuck. "I didn’t think it would actually… do anything."

"Magic has a way of surprising you."

You didn’t tell Mor until the Winter Solstice.

The river house was warm with candlelight and laughter, gifts scattered beneath the great fir tree. Nyx, all dark curls and boundless energy, had just finished tearing into his pile of presents, and was now sitting happily in Cassian’s lap, waving a wooden sword around.

Feyre and Rhys watched fondly from the couch, Rhys’s arm casually draped around his mate.

Mor sat beside you, hand resting lightly on your thigh, her eyes glinting as she whispered some teasing remark that had your face burning.

And then Amren caught your gaze from across the room. She tilted her head ever so slightly—a silent cue.

Your heart thudded.

You rose, clearing your throat as you stepped toward the center of the room. The hum of conversation stilled.

"I—uh, I have something to say," you began, fingers twisting the hem of your sleeve.

Mor straightened, brows knitting in confusion as she glanced between you and Amren.

You shifted on your feet, nerves curling in your stomach. "It’s… something I wasn’t sure about until recently. I’ve been having visions—about spells. Amren helped me figure them out."

Amren’s lips curved faintly, but she said nothing.

Mor’s hand tightened around yours. "What spells?"

You took a breath, squeezing her fingers back. "Fertility spells."

Silence.

Mor blinked. "What?"

"I’m pregnant," you said softly, voice trembling. "The spell worked."

For a long heartbeat, Mor just stared at you. Her lips parted, but no words came out.

And then Cassian—wonderful, infuriating Cassian—burst out laughing.

"Of course you're pregnant by magic. If fingers could get someone pregnant," he boomed, "you’d have had three hundred of Mor’s babies by now!"

Your face ignited. "Cassian!"

The entire room erupted into laughter, Feyre actually having to cover her mouth as she shook with quiet giggles. Even Azriel smirked behind his glass of wine.

But Mor—

Mor was looking at you like you’d hung the stars themselves.

She tugged you forward, cupping your face between her hands, tears glimmering in her amber eyes. "You’re serious?"

You nodded, unable to stop the smile that stretched across your face. "Completely."

And then she kissed you—right there, in front of everyone.

Pregnancy was an experience you’d never forget.

Nyx was fascinated from the moment he found out. He became your shadow, constantly asking when the baby would arrive and what they’d look like.

One morning, as you and Mor relaxed on the veranda, Nyx pressed his little hands against your growing belly, eyes wide with wonder.

"Can they hear me?" he asked, tilting his head.

You smiled, brushing his hair back. "Maybe."

Nyx leaned close, whispering, "Hi, it’s me—your big brother. I’m going to teach you everything."

Mor grinned. "Should I be worried?"

"I’m a good teacher!" Nyx huffed, clearly offended.

Cassian ruffled his hair as he passed. "Sure you are, champ."

Maelis was born on a warm summer night.

She had Mor’s golden hair and your eyes—a perfect little bundle wrapped tightly in soft blankets.

Nyx was the first to hold her, sitting carefully on the couch as Feyre helped support his small arms.

"She’s so tiny," Nyx whispered, wide-eyed as Maelis yawned. "I’ll protect her forever."

You wiped your eyes, leaning into Mor’s side as she kissed the top of your head.

"Think he means it?" Mor murmured, her lips brushing your temple.

"I think we’re going to have our hands full."

Mor laughed quietly, wrapping an arm around your waist. "Wouldn’t want it any other way."

Years passed in a blur of joy and chaos.

Nyx and Maelis became inseparable—partners in crime, much to Azriel’s quiet horror whenever they sneaked into the training ring to ‘practice.’

One afternoon, you found them both perched on Azriel’s broad shoulders as he calmly continued sparring with Cassian, unfazed by the giggling children hanging off him.

"Should we stop them?" Mor asked, amusement dancing in her eyes.

You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. "Let Az deal with it."

Azriel shot you both a dark look. "I can hear you."

Cassian only laughed.

On quiet evenings, you and Mor would sit by the fire, Maelis curled up against Mor’s side as Nyx read aloud from one of Feyre’s books.

Mor glanced down at the sleeping girl in her lap, brushing a stray curl from Maelis’s face. "She’s perfect," Mor whispered.

You leaned over, pressing a kiss to Mor’s shoulder. "I know."

Remainders of intimacy cling to soft skin. Lips glisten in the bright moonlight. Breathless pants engulf the room in a comfortable silence. And a tongue swipes, seeking out the final taste.

“You taste fucking amazing, sweetie,” Mor chuckles, littering kisses up your thigh, moving to sit back on her knees. She watches as your forearm splays over your face. Half covering the bashful look overtaking your features. “Don’t hide!” she playfully scolds, crawling over your naked body. Slotting between your legs. She bats your arm away as you mumble, “M’not.” Mor’s elbows rest on either side of your head, slender fingers sliding into your hair. She gently scratches your scalp, making you want to purr as tilts you to look at her face, which hovers closely above yours. “No?” The way she’s looking at you, eyes glazed with a mix of adoration and love, urges you to sink into submission. Feeling so safe and loved beneath her, you wish you stay like this forever.

Kissing Mor gives you an idea of what paradise feels like. Her lips are addicting, so soft and warm, it’s more than easy to get lost in the feeling of them against your own. Your head drops back onto the pillow after the first, your mouth tingling as if her lips were still on you. Mor smiles widely, admiring your face for a moment before chasing you. Her mouth captures your own, and she lets her body weight rest atop you. She suckles your bottom lip into her mouth, teeth gently biting down to drag a soft sound from your throat. Mor reciprocates the noise, tongue soothing over where she bit until she’s slipping past your lips and brushing her tongue against yours. Tasting the faint essence of yourself on her tongue, you flush, hands finding her waist as to pull her impossibly closer. Mor takes control of the kiss, and you gladly let her consume your mouth, guiding the pace that your tongue meets hers. Your hands slip underneath the silk top she has on, sliding slowly up her back. A gasp passes from Mor’s mouth and into your own. Your hands cold on her skin. “Off,” she mumbles.

Taking the hem of her top in your grasp, you begin to push the material up her body. Mor lifts, helping you pull it over her head and toss the fabric to the side. Her breaths are heavier now. Louder. A sign of her growing arousal. She leans back down, skin on skin, breasts pressing against yours. Her fingers find your jaw, softly pushing your head to the side so she has access to your pretty neck, littered with forming bruises from when she had her mouth on you earlier. She had sucked and bitten at your clear skin, had taken her time working her way down until she’d found home between your thighs. She’s gentler now. Laying light kisses over the marks, careful not press too hard. Mor flattens her tongue against your skin, licking from the base of your throat and up to your ear. The sensation makes you shiver, moaning out.

Mor groans, “Those sounds of yours,” she cups your face, making you look at her once again, “Makes me wanna fuck you so bad.” Her words shoot straight to your core, pulsing in response. Swallowing thickly, your eyes close, head leaning back, pushing into the pillows. You can feel her breath fanning over your ear, keeping your senses on edge. “Can I fuck you, sweet girl? Think you can take some more, hm?”

You nod, desperate and needy for her to touch you again. You swear just one look from Morrigan makes you want to spread your legs. “Words, sweetie. Need to hear you say it, okay?” Her thumb rubs circles over your cheek, trailing down to trace your lips. Your eyes blink open and find hers. “I want you to fuck me…please.”

The tension is thick as Mor moves, she says nothing yet her eyes have your heart pounding in anticipation. She teases you, biting her lip as her hands travel to her round, perky breasts. The moonlight shining through the open curtains casts a glow over her, highlighting each curve and crevice across her body. She plays with her taut nipples while you watch, gasping softly when she tweaks her buds. You almost feel jealous, wishing your mouth were her fingers. Which are now dragging down her stomach and hooking into her panties. Mor slips the lacey material off painfully slow, winding you up further. Your clit is throbbing, begging for attention. Yet you keep your hands by your side, instead tugging mindlessly at the sheets. You catch sight of the glistening slick coating Mor’s heat and inner thighs as she straddles your right leg. “Mhm, that’s all for you, sweet girl. You always get me so wet,” She tells you, whilst manoeuvring your other leg to wrap around her waist.

You practically yelp when Mor presses her cunt against yours, overly sensitive from your past orgasm and your need for more. Mor soothes you, gently squeezing your thigh, “It’s okay, I’ve got you, sweetie. Mommy’s got you.” She winds her hips, clit rubbing over yours. Loud moans escape both of your throats at the feeling of your warms and wet cunts grinding against each other. Your head is thrown back, eyes squeezed shut as whines slip past your lips with each roll of Mor’s thrusts. Euphoria flows around your body, making your head feel fuzzy with all the pleasure coursing through you.

“Look at me- look at me, sweetie.” You do, forcing yourself to look up at Mor. “Good girl, stay with me, okay? I want you watch as I fuck you, sweetheart.” You reach for her as she continues to bury her cunt into yours, clits massaging each other’s, sending shockwaves of pleasure through both of you. One hand finds Mor’s thigh, your nails digging into her skin as you grasp onto her. The other links with her own hand, fingers interlocking as she helps you stay grounded.

“Shit, mommy,” you whimper pathetically, hips bucking upwards when Mor’s clit bumps against your just right. Broken moans and pitchy gasps tumble from Mor’s parted lips, she’s looking down, watching how her messy cunt slides against yours. Slotting together perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle. “Love your little pussy so much, sweetie. Feel so good against me.”

Feeling your climax bubbling inside your belly, you desperately seek out more friction. You begin grinding your hips up to meet her thrusts, humping her cunt with your own. Mor moans, meeting your gaze, her eyes are blown out, clouded with arousal. “That’s my girl, you wanna cum, huh?” She asks with a husky, lust filled voice. “Wan- want to cum,” You breathe out, barely able to form words as the coil winds painfully tight, pushing you closer to the edge. The wet sounds of your cunts are loud enough to fill the entire room, each thrust producing a vulgar squelching noise. “You hear that, sweet girl? So fucking wet,” Mor sobs, drawing dangerously close to her own orgasm. She gasps, her clit bumping against yours over and over. Your thighs are staring to tremble as you tiptoe on the edge of release. “Let go, need you to let go. C’mon, cum for mommy,” Mor sounds as though she’s begging, hungry for you to climax against her cunt.

Her desperation sends you over the edge, climaxing through near silent whimpers. Your nails are surely leaving indents due to how hard you’re squeezing her thigh. The feelings soaring through your nerves are overwhelming, every through inside your head vanishes as pleasure fills up the space. Your clit pulses against Mor’s and she follows shortly after you. Her orgasm louder than your own, she mewls your name, hips jolting as she soon becomes overstimulated. Although, that doesn’t stop her from thrusting her cunt into yours, wanting to ride out both your climaxes despite your joint quivering.

Mor eventually slumps down next to you, panting as she presses her forehead against your temple. She kisses your cheek, “Fuck…you okay?” Mor asks, reaching to cup your hot cheek. You nod your head whilst turning to look at her, “Yeah. Are you?” You’re still trying to catch your breath, your eyes feeling droopy from the intense pleasure still lingering.

She smiles, “I’m good, sweet girl,” her hand leaves your face and dips between your legs to lightly pat your slick cunt, “She tired me out is all.” The sudden stimulations pulls a whine from you, thighs closing quickly. “Shh, sorry. M’sorry,” Mor chuckles breathlessly, wrapping herself around you, legs intertwining until you both are comfy.

“We can stop if you're not ready,” you murmur, the smile playing at your lips growing at her instant denial, shaking her head immediately, lips trailing over her skin as you continue, “we can do anything you want.”

“I want to do this, I want to feel you.”

You suck a mark onto her neck before pulling away and your lips meeting hers for an actual kiss, humming as her hands find your face once again. She had been a lot touchier when you were still at the bar, her hands getting lost in your hair and tugging at your dress as you kissed her, but as soon as you winnowed to your apartment, she found herself too stuck in her head, and you had every intention of erasing every thought from her mind until all she could feel was bliss.

“We'll need to get these clothes off then,” you manage between kisses, entirely too giddy at the way she seems unwilling to pull away from you.

Your words set her into motion though, easily taking off every piece of clothing covering her body while you couldn't do anything else but stop and stare, your own hands frozen as you watch her.

“Do you need help?”

The teasing tone in her voice is stupidly attractive but it also makes you want to remind her of who's in charge. Reaching for her waist, you drop a peck on her lips before moving down, leaving open mouthed kisses all the way to her chest, weighting both of her breasts on your hands before sucking her nipple into your mouth, a needy moan escaping her.

Sadly you don't have the time or patience to kiss every inch of her body, making a mental note to leave that for later and abandoning her nipple with a pop, chuckling softly when you meet her half lidded eyes, flooded with desire.

“Lay back for me.”

Your dress is over your head in seconds, watching her follow your command obediently as you strip off your clothes. She truly was a vision, flawless skin draped over your sheets and silky golden hair glowing under the fae lights, brown eyes studying your own body. Legs spread as she waits impatiently for you to fit yourself between them, letting you take in the view of her sweet cunt.

Crawling over her, you find her lips once more, so intoxicated with her taste. With no obstructions and your scents heavy with arousal permeating the air, your touches become a bit feverish, running your hands over each other's bodies, squeezing and caressing everything you can reach, moaning into each other's mouths at the feeling.

Eventually you remember yourself, remember you promised to take care of her and show her pleasure like she never thought possible, your hand trailing down to find her cunt dripping for you, breaking the kiss with a deep moan, a string of saliva chaining your mouths together for a moment, her eyes begging you to do anything.

“Do you want my fingers or my mouth, pretty?”

Mor shakes her head, biting her lip, surprising you by grabbing at your hips, grinding up into you before answering. “I want to feel you.” The surprise was probably obvious on your face because she quickly added, “Is that okay?”

Chuckling softly, you lean down to kiss her lips. She had been so shy when you brought her home that you thought she'd only let you finger her or maybe eat her out and cum on your face if you were lucky, which you would have been more than happy to do, but the prospect of feeling her so intimately and cumming together is making you feel all tingly and warm inside.

“It's perfect.”

You start moving as soon as the words leave your mouth, spreading her legs wider, not resisting in licking a broad stripe up her cunt, once then twice, groaning at her taste on your tongue and the breathy, unrestrained moan she lets out, before lifting your leg over hers and doing your best to find the best position, grinding down onto her cunt when you finally do.

“Feels good?”

She nods deliriously. “Please, don't stop.”

Quickly finding a good rhythm for the both, you start moving together, your cunts sliding against each other, completely drenching your thighs as your moans rose in volume, getting lost in each other. Your hands were on her legs, keeping them nice and spread for you as your hips moved incessantly, angling your cunt so you hit her clit with every thrust, building you up a delicious high while she whimpered under you, doing her best to keep up with you, the new feeling getting to her as she mumbled about how she felt, the praise making you work even harder.

“Look at you. Fuck, you're perfect.”

Mor was unbelievably beautiful, everyone in Velaris knew this, but in this moment, with her eyes fluttering closed, head thrown back and golden hair messy, circling her head like a halo, you swore she looked like a goddess, and you had every intention to serve her accordingly.

“Close?”

You knew the answer even before she nodded, the way she was trembling against you a tell tale sign, hands grabbing at the sheets, holding onto her breasts, reaching to help guide your hips, not quite sure where to rest them.

“Let go,” you breathe out, a shiver running down your spine at the feeling of her wet cunt on yours. “I'm right there with you.”

With how good she had been for you until this point, it was no surprise when she did as you told her yet again, throwing her head back and letting out a drawn out moan of your name as her body shook under yours, hips undecidedly chasing yours before trying to push away, overwhelmed with pleasure.

You keep fucking her through her orgasm, wanting to milk every drop out of her, too mesmerized with every little reaction and sound she gave you, chasing yours in the process, letting yourself get consumed with her name on your lips, trying your best to keep moving until you're both satisfied and shaking from overstimulation.

It's only when you pull away, coming to fit yourself between her legs again that you notice the tension in your legs, your muscles screaming at the strain. Seeing the way she looked up at your through half lidded eyes, so fucked out all for you, makes it well worth it though.

Her chest was still rising and falling rapidly, trying to catch breath, when your hand trails down her torso, lips finding hers when she opens her mouth to ask you what you're doing, showing her instead. Finding her soaked cunt and inserting a finger into her, humming in appreciation at how easily it slips in.

❣️🤍❣️🤍❣️

You were sitting on your couch in sweatpants and a hoodie when your front door swung open, revealing your best friend Mor, arms laden with two grocery bags. She was clad in a red knit dress, her signature color also on her lips.

Mor never did miss an opportunity to look nice.

You, on the other hand, hadn’t felt like dressing up in weeks.

Okay, two months.

But that was because your shitty ex’s parting words to you were along the lines of “You’re just not hot enough for me to keep dating.”

Mor had had plenty to say about that, especially with the fact that she considered you far out of his league.

That’s in the past though. The only part of it still clinging to you is your confidence- or lack thereof.

“I got our usual- two bottles of champagne, a bottle of orange juice, croissants, and chocolate covered strawberries,” Mor said excitedly, placing the bags on the kitchen counters after shutting the door behind her with her foot.

“That’s lovely, Mor, thank you,” you said as you stood from the couch and met her in the kitchen. “Is there anything specific you had in mind for today? I couldn’t think of anything to do besides watch a movie.”

Mor nodded her head, blonde curls bouncing as she did. “I have an idea that I think you will think you’ll hate, but you will have a fantastic time instead.” She paused, her chocolate eyes meeting yours, their warmth spreading into you. “I want to take you lingerie shopping.”

“Oh, Mor, I don’t think-”

She cut you off, “I think you need to feel sexy again on your own to fully recover from this breakup. I know, I know, you said that you’re over it, but I can tell that you’re still stuck in your head! I just want to remind you that you are sexy and beautiful and that dickhead never deserved you,” Mor explained passionately, not letting you interrupt her, as many times as you wanted to.

But she did have a point. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, just to try stuff on for fun?

“As long as it’s not in a mall, I suppose that would be fine. But if I hate it we’re coming back, drinking our mimosas, and watching some sappy romcom. Deal?”

Mor grinned brightly at you. “Deal. And just so you know, we’re probably coming back and doing that anyways.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at her before turning in the direction of your room. “I’ll just change and then we can go.”

“Sounds good, cupcake. I’ll put away the goods while you do.”

❣️🤍❣️🤍❣️

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you were inside Mor’s sleek town car, and another fifteen minutes after that you had pulled up in front of a charming looking brick building, display windows filled with mannequins dressed in laces and sheer fabrics, the name Renata’s printed across the glass front door.

Mor pulled you inside, a cheery bell ringing as you passed through the door.

“Ah, Mor, it’s lovely to see you!” A beautiful redhead exclaimed as she walked towards the two of you from the back of the store. “And you brought a friend! It’s nice to meet you, my name is Renata,” she said as she grabbed your hands firmly in hers for a moment before letting them go.

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you as well. Your shop is beautiful,” you said, and you were being honest. The walls were done in a light wooden color, with swaths of fabric in varying shades of pink adding some coziness to the space, along with the many couches settled around the store. There were also three large dressing rooms on the back wall of the store.

And the racks upon racks of gorgeous lingerie, each piece more beautiful than the last.

“Were the two of you looking for anything specific today?”

Mor shook her head, answering for you. “No, we’re just looking for something for Y/N here to get her feeling sexy again.”

You blushed lightly at her words, not wanting everyone to know that she’s having confidence issues…

“Oh, I understand that! Take your time, and if you need any different sizes or colors or anything else, just come and ask me,” Renata said warmly before departing for the desk at the back of the store.

You looked around nervously, unsure of where to start.

And Mor could tell, thankfully. She led you by the hand to the nearest rack, holding so many beautiful pieces of lingerie.

“What do you normally like to buy?” Mor asked as she started pulling out the pieces that interested her, looking at them on their own before putting them back on the rack.

“Oh, um… It’s been a while since I’ve bought any for myself, Trent was the one who bought them for me most of the time,” you confessed.

“Did you like the ones that he bought you?”

Your face scrunched at the images that came to mind- a bright, bright red, highly uncomfortable bra and panty set, the bras underwire nearly cutting into your skin on the first wear and the lace of both pieces irritating your skin. “Not particularly, no.”

“Alright, so we’ll go the exact opposite of those. Was it just a bra and panties?” Mor asked, hitting the nail on the head. You nodded. “So we’ll look at baby dolls, teddies, and chemises. Any colors that you want?”

“Not red.”

Mor gasped, hand to her heart. “So rude to my favorite color! That’s fine, more for me,” Mor said with devilish smirk thrown your way as she continue rifling through the racks. “Go on, look at some cupcake!”

You sighed but did as she asked, hands gently flitting between soft laces and sheer fabrics, lingering on a baby pink chemise. You pulled it off of the rack it rested on, your free hand running over the sheer fabric and lace covering the bust- soft and not at all irritating on your skin, and the cut of it was lovely. It looked like it would cover half of your breasts, just above the nipple, leave a tantalizing amount of skin on display with the thin lace straps to frame the area. And the skirt of the dress was flowy, you would bet money on it flaring out when you spin around.

This one you were definitely trying on.

After finding the first piece you wanted to try on, picking them out was easier. You just chose the ones that caught your eye.

Once you had a decent selection, you wandered over to the dressing rooms to find Mor, also standing with an armful of clothes.

“You found so many! That perfect, now you have so many to try on! Now, get in there and start trying them on!” Mor said, pushing you into one of the roomy dressing rooms and dumping the clothes in her arms on the table inside.

“These are all for me?” You asked her, slightly concerned.

“Mhm! You don’t have to try on the ones I picked out for you, but I thought you might like them. I’ll wait outside, and you can show me the ones that you like.” And with that, Mor left the dressing room, closing the door softly behind her.

You sighed softly before moving over to the table, placing your own findings onto it.

Five pieces in and you didn’t like a single one.

You were starting to lose hope.

You grabbed the pink chemise that you had picked out first, figuring that if you liked any of them, it would be that one. You stripped out of the dark blue teddy that Mor had picked out for you, returning it to its hanger before slipping the chemise over your head, taking a moment to adjust the way your chest sat in the fabric.

And it was perfect.

It was soft and girly, but still sexy with how much skin it showed up top. Your nipples were just barely covered by the fabric, and still slightly visible through the light pink lace with how sheer the pink fabric underneath was. It came to just about your mid thigh, and when you spun around, it flared out at the bottom in the way that you’d hoped.

“Mor?” You asked as you peeked out from the doorway, doing your best to keep your modesty in the store.

“Yes, Y/N?” The blonde asked from her spot on a pink couch in front of the dressing rooms, flicking through a magazine.

“Come in here, I need you to judge this one for me.” Mor’s head turned upwards, her eyes catching on your head poking out of the door. She shook her head and smiled, then dropped the magazine back on the side table and walked towards you.

You retreated back into the dressing room, slightly nervous at what she would say. She was your friend, yes, but she was also incredibly beautiful.

Mor shut the door behind her quietly before she turned to face you. Her eyes widened as she took you in, her cheeks pinking slightly.

You squirmed under her intense gaze. “What?” You asked nervously.

“Just- you are so, so beautiful and sexy.” With heated cheeks you looked away from her. “And I mean it. Like, looking at you right now, I want to devour you. Even though we’re in public and even though you’re my best friend. You look fantastic in this, cupcake,” Mor said softly, closing the distance between the two of you.

Your cheeks were flaming now, both from the compliments and the meaning of her words. “Thank you, Mor,” you whispered breathily into the space between you- less than a foot now, and Mor’s hands now on your waist.

“You’re welcome,” Mor said with a smile, her brown eyes molten chocolate as they met yours.

And then your mouths met, the distance closed in half a thought from the both of you. Your arms wrapped around her neck as hers wrapped around your waist, the both of you pulling each other as close as you could.

When you broke away, the both of you were breathless, excited at the now blurred lines of friendship between you.

“Devour me,” you breathed.

And Mor didn’t disappoint.

She turned you in her arms so that you were facing the mirror, her chest pressed tightly to your back. One of her hands snaked up to pull one side of the dress down to expose your chest, the other moving down to slip underneath your panties that you’d left on. It dipped down into your folds, Mor sighing contentedly after finding you already wet for her.

“If I’d known you liked me so much, I would’ve made a move on you so much earlier,” Mor whispered into your ear, her red lips hovering teasingly over your neck.

“If I’d known you liked me so much, I would’ve made a move on your earlier,” you replied softly, breath catching when her fingers slipped over your clit.

“Fair enough. We should both be honest about how hot we find each other. Like, you right now? The sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. Look at yourself,” Mor commanded, nudging your head to look at the mirror from where it had lolled against her shoulder. You did, and found that she was right.

You looked amazing right now, your skin flushed and glowing from Mor’s attentions, the chemise accentuating your chest- and just the sight of your breast in Mor’s hand, her thumb rolling over your nipple was enough to have you believing her words in that moment.

And Mor behind you, looking as gorgeous as ever, the desire in her expression only enhancing her beauty.

Her fingers were slipping over your clit quickly, doing their best to bring you to the brink quickly, lest the two of you get caught.

But that thought only made it more exciting, the danger of being found with your best friend’s hand down your panties, of a single moan giving your activities away to the store owner outside.

“Fuck, Mor, I’m-”

“Shh, I know, cupcake, just stay quiet, okay? Here’s my thumb just in case,” Mor said quietly, moving her hand from your breast to pop her thumb into your mouth. “Look me in the eyes when you cum, love,” Mor commanded.

So you did, your eyes meeting hers as you fell over the edge, mostly silent cries being fully muffled by her thumb. You shook lightly in her hold, leaning back against her for support as you came down, sucking lightly on her thumb as her fingers slowed.

“Feeling good, little cupcake?” Mor asked, a satisfied smile on her face as she kept her eyes locked on your in the mirror.

“Mhm… I could use a nap now though,” you giggled. “Thank you, Mor. You were right. I did like it.”

Mor smirked at you. “I told you that you would. Of course, I am a great helper at making things fun.”

You smiled at her. “Yes you are… Now, I should change back into my clothes. But I’m definitely getting this,” you said, running your hands up and down the chemise.

“I’ll go wait outside, so we don’t arouse suspicion,” Mor said with a wink, leaving the dressing room after pressing one last kiss to your lips.

You returned to your pile of clothes, stripping the chemise off of yourself.

Just what had the two of you started? You thought to yourself with a slight smile.

“You couldn’t be more obvious,” your friend teased, her elbow nudging your side drawing you from the entrancement. Forcing yourself to pull your lower lip from between your teeth and look away from Mor, you relaxed slightly more in your seat as reality set in.

The flawless court overseer and one of the heads of the Night Court - not to mention the most beautiful female you had ever seen - was far out of your league, someone only meant for daydreams. And oh, how you dreamed of what it would be like to be with someone like her - someone so poised, well-travelled, strikingly beautiful. It was difficult at times to believe that she was real.

Until those golden eyes locked with yours. Your friends’ giggles echoed in your ears as though they were much farther away than they were, the blonde’s siren gaze luring you to the sea of bodies on the dance floor in a daze. 

“Hello, beautiful,” Mor purred, her voice like a caress that sent chills down your spine. Blushing under her gaze, you stumbled through your name, allowing her to take your hand. Effortlessly twirling your body to press your warmth against her own, Mor rolled against you to the music. 

Head leaning back against her shoulder, you closed your eyes and savored the feeling of soft lips against your neck. “Follow me,” Mor whispered against your tingling skin, hand sliding along your waist to find your hand. Fingers interlacing, you followed swaying hips past the bar and out the door.

Soft laughs and teasing touches straight from your dreams followed the two of you down Velaris streets, the moment drawing to an end only for Morrigan’s golden eyes to flick to yours with a wicked smirk as she pushed her key into the door. “Just in here,” she murmured, teeth drawn between her lower lip in pleasure at how you followed in a trance.

Her apartment was simple, bare of decoration except for the bottles of wine and curtains draped throughout the space, highlighting the obscenely large bed in the center of the room. Turning to face her, you arched a brow. “Don’t you think-“

You were cut off by a bottle of red wine pressed to your lips, the sweet liquid quenching a thirst you hadn’t recognized before now. “Shh,” Mor purred, her finger dragging across your lips as she took a swig of the bottle herself. “Don’t think so much.”

Pleasure buzzed through you, body preening at her raw attention that you’d craved for so long. “Mor,” you pleaded, eyelids heavy as your gaze raked shamelessly over her sinful form. “Let me touch you, please.”

A small whimper sounded from her throat, as though she’d tried to disguise the feeling when she smirked once more, pushing you flat onto the mattress. “Patience, beautiful,” she teased, eyes glinting in the soft light as softer hands slid up your thighs. 

Cold air against your pussy pulled a shiver from your body, pupils dark and entranced by the blonde waves that hovered above your core. Ruby red lips curved into a smile before opening slightly, pink tongue flicking out over your exposed clit. 

Gasping, your fingers clutched the silken sheets with desperation as you struggled to stay still, legs shaking and back bowing off the bed as Morrigan began her merciless assault on your pussy. Sucking your clit between her lips, tongue working wickedly against the sensitive bud, Mor grinned at your thrashing beneath her. 

Red lipstick marked a circle around your swollen clit, eliciting a territorial response from Mor, whose nails dug into the flesh of your thighs as she pinned them to the mattress. Her expert tongue worked your clit, dipping into the dripping slick from your cunt only to be replaced with her long, slender fingers. 

A scream escaped you as those fingers curled against your walls, your hands finding purchase in soft golden tresses while you lost yourself to the pleasure. “M-mor,” you began to moan, the plea turning to a scream as you crashed into your orgasm. You could feel her fingers, tongue, teeth, lips, working you through it until the wave subsided, leaving your chest heaving and eyes searching for hers.

Golden eyes were keenly watching your own as Morrigan’s tongue flicked out along her soaked fingers, cheeks hollowed from sucking off all your juices. Your hips writhed against nothing, an animalistic need overtaking any sense of rationale.

“Get up here, now,” you practically growled, pulling Mor up along your body until her sweet pussy rested over your face. The scent of rose and red wine invaded your senses, her bare cunt hovering over you, tormentingly just out of reach. “This is mine,” you mumbled, arms latching over her legs until the blonde’s hips pressed flat against your face.

The sweet yet sour taste of her collected on your tongue, spurring you on to lap, suck, tug at anything you could reach - anything that brought those beautiful pleas from her full lips. Hips bucked against your chin, the sticky slick encouraging you to pull her impossibly closer with one hand as the other dipped inside of her center. 

Adding a second finger, you curled against her walls in tandem with your tongue against her clit, satisfaction deeper than your orgasm filling you when Mor shuddered above you, screaming your name. After a long moment, her tanned body slid down your own until her face was even with yours. 

Her lips met yours, slow and soft with your combined tastes on your tongues. Gentle touches, soft lips found each other until you drifted to sleep, rest finding you at the thought of finally knowing the female you’d longed for for so long.

~~~

Busy streets sounded below, the vendors of the rainbow starting their daily routine a clear sign you’d slept later than usual. Eyes daring to crack open, you stretched an arm across the large mattress in search of Mor, only to find empty sheets. 

Suddenly more awake, you jerked upright to survey the space, finding yourself alone. A note was placed on the pillow where Morrigan’s head had rested, and you willed yourself to pick it up with shaky hands:

I would like to know you better. Meet me here tonight at sunset.

It was a stupid, idiotic game suggested by stupid idiotic males. 

Mor was nursing a glass of red wine, sat at a round moonstone table at the river estate. The inner circle’s usual night of reverie at Rita’s culminated in everyone slumping back to the estate half-dead with 90% liquor in their veins. The night started out fun with good food and good-natured ribbing amongst her family but it had devolved into a headache. Truly, a nuisance was building at the back of her head, thumping uncomfortably. The alcohol certainly didn’t help but she wasn’t about to endure a drunk Cassian and Azriel without a buzz going. 

Feyre and Rhys had absconded to their room long ago and Amren had disappeared with no notice and no indication as to where she had gone (typical). Elain and Lucien went on a moonlit walk and Nesta had deemed the night over and stomped up to her room the moment Cassian started quoting a dirty passage from the novel she was currently reading. 

Leaving Mor with Cassian and Azriel and a stupid, idiotic game. 

They had somehow gotten on the topic of lovers and Cassian being Cassian, was eager to pry into everyone’s intimate business.

Mor was planning to call it a night soon anyway. This game didn’t interest her and she’d rather be with you. In your arms, in your bed. You’d known each other loosely for a while ever since you worked as a lounge singer at Rita’s but one night, Mor was one of the only people left in the place after your set. You two got to talking and the chemistry was un-fucking-deniable. Your chance meeting quickly blossomed into a fling.

Except something deeply wounded Mor to call it a fling. It made it sound so… cheap and flimsy. Yes, you were phenomenal in bed. Yes, she could cum just from the mental image of you with your head thrown back and her fingers plunged inside you. But you were also talented and ambitious and witty and matched her tit for tat when it came to her silver tongue. There was still some anxiety she felt when she was with females. It never allowed her to fully relax or lose herself in a moment. But you…

You excited her. 

“Okay, okay. Azriel’s turn. Name the best lover you’ve ever had.” Cassian smirked. 

“I don’t kiss and tell.” Azriel said.

“Come on, Az! I told you mine!” 

Azriel snorted.

“You’re mated. You wouldn’t have said any name except Nesta’s. And if you had, she would have ran down here and kicked you in the balls.” 

“And it would have been a major turn on because everything Nesta does turns me on because Nesta is the best lover I’ve ever had now DISH!” Cassian screamed, pointing his wine glass at Azriel and making the wine spill everywhere.

Normally, Azriel didn’t partake in such games. He didn’t kiss and tell. He was respectful and likely got a kick out of being so stoic and mysterious. But they had been drinking so heavily for so long. The shadowsinger’s hazel eyes were swimming with mischief.

“Alright. It was fairly recent. About 10 years ago.” Azriel began to loosely describe this female he had a fling with over the winter that he met while shopping for Solstice presents. The smirk on his face deepened as he described their love making. “She had a phenomenal body and I swear, I didn’t think it was possible for my dick to go so deep inside someone. She was a great cook, too. She always baked me a pie afterward. ” Mor was barely listening. She was about to dump her wine into the plant in the corner and winnow to your apartment when something turned her blood to ice.

Your name.

Your name coming from Azriel’s lips.

It happened in less than a span of a heartbeat. Less than the flutter of an eye closing than it took for Mor to sail across the table and connect her fist with Azriel’s jaw. 

She could barely register Azrie’s weight beneath her, Cassian’s cackle that turned into a worried shout was muffled as she began punching Azriel over and over. Mor roared and gripped the lapels of Azriel’s shirt, readying to bash his head into the floor when a force stronger than drunken Mor pulled her away. 

Azriel’s shadows.

Azriel groaned, blood trickling out of his nose mixing with the spilt wine on the floor. He wriggled his nose and winced. Not broken but Mor gotten in a hell of a punch. 

“What the hell, Mor?!” Cassian shouted. 

Mor was held back by Azriel’s shadows, tears streaming down her face. So many emotions were washing over her at once, spawning in the pit of her stomach and trailing to the center of her chest. Jealousy and rage flowed to the top. 

Azriel had been with you. The two of you had made love. Azriel had known your body, tasted you, gazed upon you in your naked form. He’d known the pleasure only you can provide.

And she wanted to fucking kill him for it.

Azriel just stared at Mor while Cassian berated her, screaming some nonsense about how they’re a family and hitting is only okay if they did something to provoke it.

“Cassian.” Azriel’s sharp voice cut in. “Leave us.” 

Cassian complied. Even this drunk, he could tell when his brother truly needed something. He murmured something about going to get ice and a healing tonic and left the two of them alone. 

Azriel stood up and slowly walked to where Mor was restrained by his shadows. Another feeling started to mix in with the others. Shame. She’d hit Azriel. She’d hurt Azriel. She’d hurt her family. And now there was no hiding anymore. 

Azriel leveled his gaze at her and Mor shivered. He’d never looked at her that way. Never as the feared, icy, ruthless Shadowsinger of the Night Court.

“Is there something you need to tell me, Morrigan?” 

***

Mor insisted on talking in Azriel’s room. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted anyone else to hear and his was the only one she trusted to be thoroughly soundproof. 

She sat on Azriel’s bed, clutching a pillow in her lap while Azriel stood over her. A blush crept onto her cheeks.

“Don’t stand there, Azriel, like I’m a teenager in trouble. Sit.” 

It was his room and his nose and jaw that she’d tried to break but still, he sat.

Mor took several steadying breaths and begged herself not to cry. She wouldn’t be able to get out the words if she cried. But still, her cheeks and eyes warmed as fat tears began to pool in her eyes. One of Azriel’s shadows came up to wipe them away. 

And Azriel’s scarred hand gently placed atop hers.

“Mor…” His voice was tight. He’d only seen her cry on a few occasions: when Rhys was captured by Amarantha, when Rhys returned, when Nyx was born and he and his parents almost died… It wasn’t a sight he enjoyed. 

“I just–” She heaved a sob. “I need a minute, okay?” 

Azriel squeezed her hand. 

“I’ll wait.” 

Azriel had waited. He’d waited 500 years for something to happen between them. Something that would never happen. Something that Mor had communicated in a roundabout, cruel way. Gods, she hated herself for it. But who could blame her for being skittish? For being so scared that she’d kept this part of herself hidden from even her family? 

…Azriel wouldn’t. 

Mor took another breath. And another. And another after Azriel had conjured up a glass of water for her. 

They sat there for close to 20 minutes before she finally spoke. 

“The first fae I ever loved…” Mor sighed. “Was a female named Andromeda.” 

She weaved the tale over an hour and a half, detailing the first flicker of confusing affection she felt for females, twined with the lesser but still present affection for males. The sexual politics of her taking Cassian as her first lover. Andromeda. Their love story that culminated in the loneliest sadness Mor had ever felt. Loving and losing and her heart caving in all while her family was unaware. The lingering fear and panic she felt regarding her father and Beron and Eris. How she’d avoided Azriel by sleeping around with other males. All leading up to you. How the two of you met at Rita’s one late night after you’d finished a set. How she bought you a drink. How she bought you a second drink. How you became quick friends. How your friendship spiraled into something steamy and undeniable. How Azriel saying your name had unlocked a river of white-hot rage buried so deep inside her that she didn’t even feel like herself when she’d launched herself across the table at him. 

Her throat was dry and raspy by the time she was done talking. She’d cried through a lot of it, especially when talking about Andromeda. She braced herself for Azriel’s reaction. 

“I am sorry that you have been hurting, Mor. But I am also hurt that you thought–” Azriel’s head whipped to the side like he’d been phantom-smacked. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. “I am hurt that you thought I would… what? Berate you? Drag you kicking and screaming into the Court of Nightmares and drop you at Kier’s feet? Be so heartbroken that I would resent you?” 

Mor shuddered.

“Don’t you?” 

Azriel sighed.

“Mor, you are… dazzling. Beauty and wits and heart is what you’re made of. It’s no mystery why I fell for you. It’s no mystery why anyone would fall for you. You’re also kind, and caring, and family.” 

Azriel’s hazel eyes burned into hers and she shifted slightly on the bed, unnerved by the intensity of it. 

“You were always going to be one of the most important people in my life. And no, our relationship didn’t fall into place the way I desired it to and yes, it hurts but what I can’t get over is that you didn’t trust me. You didn’t trust any of us.” 

Mor pulled on the end of her dress, just to have something to do with her body aside from sit here in this uncomfortable conversation.

“Um, actually… Feyre knows.” 

Another deep sigh from Azriel. Mor has never felt so small. So unguarded. Her secrecy was the only armor she had and now it was dust in the wind. No going back. 

“Do you hate me?” She whispered.

Azriel scoffed.

“By the Cauldron, Mor, have you been listening to me?” Azriel reached for her hands. “I could never hate you. I don’t care if you like females or males or both or neither. I don’t give a shit about any of it. You are my family. In 500 years, I have never felt safer than I have with all of you.”

She sniffled, tears welling in her eyes once more.

“Really?” 

“Of course.” Azriel said, his voice softer than it had been all night. “Look, I’m not saying I’m happy with you for toying with my feelings and this might take a while for me to process the fact that it’s never going to be us but… I love you, Mor. I’m happy when I’m around you and it kills me to know that you haven’t been completely happy around all of us.” 

Mor felt a swell of relief in her chest. She slipped her arms around his neck and hugged Azriel and hugged him and hugged him until she felt like crying again. This time, she let the tears fall until she was sobbing into his chest.

They spent two more hours talking, ironing out their feelings, and crying. Well, mostly Mor cried. Azriel conjured up more water for her and some food as well. It was practically dawn anyway with the dark blue sky conceding to a blushing, orange sunrise. 

“How do you feel now?” Azriel asked over a strawberry flake strudel. He was now sitting at the foot of his bed, his back leaning against one of the four posters as his wings draped lazily on the ground. 

Mor loosed a long sigh and pulled the straw in and out of the plastic coffee cup she had long since drained until Azriel told her to stop because the sound was annoying.

“I feel like… I want to go see my girlfriend.” She was spent. Her emotions had all spilled out of her like nightmare vomit and she was utterly empty. She craved nothing more than to curl up in your warm bed and stroke your soft hair until she fell asleep. 

Azriel barked out a laugh. 

Mor’s brows knit into a line. She kicked at Azriel’s foot but he quickly dodged. 

“What?” She bit.

“That’s a funny word.” Azriel said, smirking as he finished off his breakfast treat.

Mor sat her cup on his nightstand and sat up.

“What do you mean?” Sure, you two didn’t have a label yet. But you were basically girlfriends, right? You spent most nights together, you slept together, went shopping in Velaris together, had lunch dates all the time. At least, she hoped you’d want to be her girlfriend.

Azriel rolled his eyes at her.

“Morrigan. You flew across a ten-foot long table and beat the shit out of me just because one time, a decade ago, I slept with–” 

Mor growled. That same feeling she got when Azriel first said your name last night was building up again. She felt it from her navel all the way up to her chest. A dark, swirling vortex of negative emotions and yet, somewhere within was a bright white light. 

No, not white. 

Golden.

Mor’s entire world cracked open. Every scar. Every ounce of pain and trauma that she’d collected split open and filled with a shimmering golden liquid that came from the reservoir of your soul and bled into hers. 

“...mate.” 

Azriel said it the moment Mor realized it. Everything aligned for her in that moment. The seas were bluer, the birds chirped a perfect melody, and everything made sense. It had all been for this. All been for you. Every awful horror, every fitful night of sleep, everything… it was all aligning for Mor to find you.

She scrambled to get up, all the while Azriel was laughing. She couldn’t find her shoes. Where were her godsdamned shoes? 

Mor decided to forgo the accessories and just go straight to you. Barefoot and in love. And although the bond was pulling at her, willing her to find you, she turned back to Azriel. 

“Az? Are we… are we going to be okay?” She was scared to ask, but it was high time to stop being afraid. To stop keeping Azriel–her entire family, really– at an arm’s length. They all loved her and she needed to embrace that, or else she’d never be truly happy.

Azriel leaned his head against his four-poster. 

“Of course we will, Mor. Maybe not today, but we will be.” 

Mor nodded slowly and headed for the door. She looked back one last time at Azriel. At her family. She knows she hurt him and she would have to do some serious groveling to earn his forgiveness. Even though he was a good male and would likely not accept any gifts or excessive sweetness, she would do it anyway. Mor would win back his trust and help heal the scars she inflicted. But the cage she had trapped herself in had suddenly combusted. The world was wide open. And she liked it. And so Mor said, for perhaps the first time in her life, but meaning it fully:

“I love you, Azriel.” 

***

Rushed knocks were all she could manage. Feeling a mating bond that had yet to be reciprocated was suffocating and intoxicating all at once. She was shaking and bouncing on her feet like she’d had 300 coffees. If you didn’t open the door in three seconds, Mor didn’t know if she could keep herself from knocking it down. 

Mercifully, it swung open. And there you stood.

Her mate. 

Her perfect, beautiful mate. 

You wore a pair of tiny shorts and a very thin, very see-through white tank top underneath a red kimono robe that Mor was almost certain had once been at home in her closet.

Despite dawn just rising up to wish Velaris a good morning, you didn’t seem perturbed at Mor’s early intrusion. You gave her a lazy feline smile.

“Hey, good looking—” 

You never even had a chance. Mor pounced on you like a jungle cat, claiming your mouth with hers and grabbing at whatever skin she could get her hands on. Although surprised, you didn’t waver for even a moment. You slid your hands up through the fae’s hair and walked her backwards into your apartment. 

Mor’s heart sang a golden chorus that blended in with chirping birds and distant water fountains.

Mate. Mate. Mate. 

Happy. Happy. Happy.

You pulled Mor off of you for only a moment, but she chased after your lips, her hands practically pawing at your chest like a needy housecat.

“What’s gotten into you?” You asked, giggling. But the second Mor’s wide eyes looked into yours. You saw it. You felt it. That golden tether tying you to Mor. 

The noise you let out was something between a happy gasp and a squeal. 

You surged up and kissed her again, parting and letting her claim your mouth and claim you. She tugged the kimono down, shoving it off your perfect shoulders. You tried to do the same with her dress but she insisted on wearing those cross-back ones and intricate tit chains and it was so complicated to get off in a rush. 

But eventually you both worked all the offending garments off and onto the floor. Mor lifted you up and carried you to your kitchen table, her mouth never leaving your neck as she did so. 

She laid you out on your back and attacked your neck with kisses, nipping and biting at your jaw, your ear, anywhere she could reach. Her fingers went down to trace the insides of your thighs, drawing a shudder of pleasure from you. 

Her hand dipped even further, her middle finger tracing the outside of your entrance, barely ghosting over your skin, playing in the wetness that was already there. 

“Wait!” You shouted, just before Mor could get her fingers inside of you.

Her brows knit together in concern and her perfect lips formed a pout, but the distress melted when she saw you reach across the kitchen table grabbing at a tin of cherry pie you had made. You pulled it toward you and grabbed a sloppy handful from the middle. You held it out to Mor, your eyes wide from both love and lust. 

“Eat.” You gently nudged the pie up onto her lips. 

Mor watched a stream of cherry juice drip down your hand and wrist. She leaned in and traced it with her tongue, collecting it off your skin. She dragged her tongue down your arm and back up until she took your entire pinky in her mouth, sucking on the digit. Then she did the same with your ring finger and your middle finger and so on. Her teasing was utterly unfair and you pouted as she took her sweet time sucking on your fingers until she finally ate the handful of pie you’d extended out to her. 

A pang of jealousy sang in her chest, remembering that you baked pies for Azriel after every time you did it but the solidification of the bond quickly stamped that out. 

Mor ate every bit of pie you offered her and licked the palm of your hand clean. Her lips were stained red from the cherries and the sweetness rested pleasantly on her tongue. 

“I love you.” She murmured, placing kisses along your bare chest and over your boobs. She wrapped her mouth around a nipple and sucked and nipped at it, drawing precious little “ah!”s and moans from you. 

“Mm… I love you too, Mor.” You said, twining your fingers in her hair, not caring that you were getting pie crumbs all in your lover’s blonde hair. Because she wasn’t just your lover anymore. She was your mate. 

She fixed her attention on your other nipple and her fingers found her way back to your entrance, teasing, grazing. 

Your mate sat up, eye-fucking you as she took in your form. It didn’t make you shy. You were never shy with Mor, or at Rita’s when you were belting out a song. It was one of the things she loved about you. One of the reasons you were perfectly matched to her. The Mother did a good fucking job. 

“How much do you love me?” Mor said in a sing-song tone, dragging her knuckle up your slit. 

“So much.” You gasped. You truly did love Mor. She was confident and carefree and fun. She made you feel like every day only happened so you could experience pleasure. Like mornings were made for strolls in the sun and evenings were made for lovemaking under the moonlight. There was no pain and no turmoil when you were together. There was just you and your mate and the golden love that flowed through you and around you. 

“How good do I fuck you, baby?” She whispered, sliding one finger inside you. 

You gasped and grabbed her wrist. Not to stop her but just to have any sort of contact with you. Mor rectified this immediately by holding one of your hands in her free one and pressing kisses to the back of it. 

“So good, Mor.” You murmured as she lazily dragged her finger in and out of you. It wasn’t enough. You needed more. 

Sensing your needs, knowing exactly what her sweet mate needed, she added another finger and amped up her speed ever so slightly. You moaned your affirmation.

“I know what you like.” She whispered. The minx. You could hear the smirk on her face.  

She pulled you right to the edge and then retracted her fingers faster than you could comprehend. Your eyes shot open and tears quickly filled them, so close to your peak and then denied so quickly. 

Mor shook her head, grinning at you the whole time.

“Sweet girl… you know how this goes. We don’t ever finish that quickly. Besides,” Mor dug her fingers into the pie you had decimated, plucking out a single cherry and holding it up to the light, admiring it like a lost artifact. “You haven’t had breakfast.” 

She dragged the cherry around your lips, painting them red. Your tongue darted out to lick at the tips of her fingers and she placed the cherry on your tongue. You chewed and felt the bond growing stronger, more prominent in your chest with every little bite. The second you swallowed, Mor was on you again, kissing you desperately, licking into your mouth. 

She hiked your leg up and started grinding her wet cunt against yours. The warmth was perfect and you felt your body and soul practically singing with how right it felt, how perfect you two were. 

Mor’s warm, wet pussy was like a dream. You grinded against her, creating more friction and soon you were both shouting, both unable to contain your moans. Mor sped up, bouncing against you and that simply wouldn’t do. You couldn’t let her have all the fun. You broke from the kiss and took her nipple in your mouth, sucking on it as she had done to you. Except, you had a little payback in mind for her edging you. You let go of her nipple with a wet pop and started sucking a love bite onto the skin of her breast, right on top where it would be visible in those low cut dresses she wore. Everyone would know she had a mate. Everyone would know she belonged to you. 

Mor moaned your name in a desperate whisper, increasing her speed. The two of you weren’t going to last long. The pressure was building up and it was already too perfect, too all-consuming. 

Once you were satisfied with the darkening mark on her chest, you latched onto her neck, kissing and sucking. But that wasn’t enough for your mate. She gripped your chin in her hands and kissed you desperately. Like she needed you to breathe. 

That was what sent you over the edge. 

You came and Mor followed soon after. The pleasure flowed through you two freely like the love through the bond. You’d never felt so connected to someone and by the pulsating you felt at the other end, you knew Mor hadn’t either. 

“I love you.” She slurred, pupils blown wide with lust. You swore they almost looked like little hearts. 

You returned the sentiment, murmuring it into her skin as you kissed up her sternum and across her jaw before she finally gripped a fistful of your hair and dragged you up to her lips. 

You sighed in contentment against your mate. But Mor wasn’t done with you yet. 

She sunk to her knees in front of you, eye-level with your glistening wet pussy. 

“So…” she drawled, licking a stripe up your slit, collecting both her and your wetness on her tongue. “When were you gonna tell me you fucked Azriel?” 

At the same moment you uttered “what?” Mor plunged her tongue inside you, swirling around and suckling at your clit. You clawed at the table, wishing you had laid a tablecloth down so you’d have something to grip onto. You were still so, so sensitive but Mor was relentless as she toyed with your bundle of nerves. 

“I know you fucked him…” She mumbled against your hot core. 

You laid your head back in pleasure, unable to form any thoughts. Mor knew you liked a little overstimulation and the mating bond was amplifying it by one hundred.

“Was a long time ago…” You murmured. Utterly pussy-drunk. 

“Don’t care.” Mor said, plunging a finger inside you. “Should’ve told me. I almost broke his nose.” 

Some part of you deep down felt bad for Azriel but that part was trapped beneath an ocean of pleasure and right now, you’re not sure you could even remember what Azriel looked like. 

“Mmm…” You moaned, your clit twitching as Mor sucked on it. She added two fingers, pumping in and out of you faster than she did before. 

Mor brought you to the edge again and you could barely register her lifting you up and carrying you into the bathroom. You were so lost in your own pleasure and the feeling of your mate holding you that no other sensations even mattered. Your body simultaneously roared at you to fall asleep and to hop onto Mor’s lap and grind your pussy against hers over and over again. 

“Sleep, my love.” Mor said. 

You felt her easing the two of you into a hot bath, her keeping you tight against her chest.

“No.” You grumbled petulantly, though your eyes fluttered closed. She did wake you up awfully early and make you cum twice. Mating frenzy or no, you were exhausted. “Need to fuck you.” 

Mor giggled against your ear.

“We’ll have a lifetime of that, baby.” Mor ran her fingers up and down your arm, the sensation calming you and sending tiny tingles of pleasure to your brain. She was most definitely moving you into the river house once the frenzy was over. Or she could move in here with you. Or maybe you two would build a new property. You could design your dream home together. Whatever. Permanent decisions could wait until after your mating ceremony. Because you would be having a mating ceremony. A spectacular, classy, romantic affair. Candles everywhere and her whole family in attendance. All of fucking Velaris. She would marry you in front of anyone anywhere in the world. 

You nodded your affirmation and slumped against your mate as she took to washing you both with your nice smelling soaps. 

When you woke up, Mor would find your vibrator and make you come two more times with it. She loved getting you worked up because once it was her turn, you were relentless. You would pull orgasm after orgasm from her until she was in tears and screaming your name so loud, the cranky neighbors pounded on your door demanding you keep it down. 

“Tell me, mate.” Mor whispered as she shampooed your hair. “What flavor pie did you bake Azriel after he fucked you?” 

You hummed and pinched Mor’s thigh for fixating on silly things and pulling you out of your sleep. You and Azriel had a fling that lasted less than a winter season ten years ago and had only ever been casual friends since. It was nothing compared to what you felt for Mor. How pleasure overtook every cell in your body when you were together, even if all you were doing was sharing a turkey sandwich at a bistro down by the Sidra. 

If you peeked into your skull, it would be filled with images of Mor. Your lover, your best friend, your mate. She was your ending and your beginning. Nothing before or since matters. 

“Blueberry.” 

Mor nipped your ear and your moan signaled you liked that a little too much. Even as your eyes fluttered shut, you grabbed her hand and guided it to your center. You wanted her to make you cum one more time, just one more teeny tiny orgasm before you fall asleep. 

Mor massaged your wet, soapy breast with one hand while the other lazily circled your clit. She pressed hot kisses over your neck, occasionally licking and nipping the skin there too. 

“Morrigan. Don’t you dare.”

You slowly backed away from your girlfriend who was grinning like a she-devil with two pints of ale in her hands.

By coincidence, you had both donned white baby tees today and Mor had been complaining that yours wasn’t sheer enough and she couldn’t see your glorious tits through it.

You had been preparing lunch when Mor poured drinks for you two and accidentally spilled down the front of her shirt, the alcohol making her shirt stick to her sternum.

Apparently, laughing was the wrong reaction.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Mor purred, her long legs stalking toward you. “Don’t you want your drink?”

You shook your head.

“Uh-uh.”

Mor giggled.

“Come on. We can have a wet t-shirt contest. I’ll go first.”

Now, you considered yourself to be an evolved female. An intellectual. A feminist. But watching beer cascade down your girlfriend’s chest, her white tee becoming wet and see-through, exposing her hardened nipples to you sent some primal wave of attraction and lust through you.

Beer plus boobs equals hot.

Mor pouted down at herself.

“Aw, I’ve made a mess.” She fixed her brown eyes on you. “Help me clean up?”

You nodded dumbly as Mor peeled her shirt from her body, the movement sending her tits bouncing.

She crooked a finger in your direction and you walked toward her as if under her spell.

When you reached her, Mor took your chin in her hand and kissed you. Her lips were soft and plump and tasted faintly of raspberry lipgloss.

She pulled away and looked at you with that same twinkle in her eyes she always had when you two kissed.

“Do something for me, baby?”

“Yes.” You’d do anything for her.

“Forgive me for this.”

With one fluid motion, Mor upturned the pint of ale and doused your shirt with it.

You squealed as the sticky liquid permeated your shirt and ran down your stomach and back, leaking through your jeans and down onto the floor as well.

“Mor!” You scolded.

“Look at that…” Mor grabbed you by your shirt and pulled you against her bare chest. She kissed you again, her tongue grazing your bottom lip. You parted your lips and let her in. She swiped her tongue through your mouth and sucked on your tongue, causing you to whine.

Mor pulled away with an audible ‘pop!’ and grinned at you.

“You won.”

You looked down between the two of you, your wet boobs pressed against Mor’s and goddamnit and if the sight wasn’t making you hot.

“What’s my prize?”

Mor’s lips turned upward in a smirk and she kissed you again, her hands settling on your hips and then sliding up through your shirt to squeeze your boobs.

“Whatever the hell you want, honey.”

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

What you wanted was Mor’s head between your legs and that’s exactly what she gave you.

After pulling off the rest of your clothes, Mor pushed you onto the bed and buried her tongue deep inside you, licking and suckling at your clit until she brought you to the edge.

“Mor… fuck!” You moaned, tightening your hold on Mor’s blonde hair.

Mor chuckled against you, pausing to press a kiss to your inner thigh.

“I think we should have wet t-shirt contests everyday.” She said casually, as if she were talking about where to get lunch next week. Her finger circled your entrance, ghosting over your lips. “What do you think, baby?”

You whimpered and Mor slid a finger in.

“We can do champagne, wine, seltzer.” She lazily pumped in and out of you and her nonchalant ease was making you crazy. “It was so hot seeing you like that. All wet and sticky and exposed.”

While she was fingerfucking you, she reached up with her free hand to squeeze and grope at your tits.

You whimpered from the pleasure she was pulling from you, your head falling back on the silk pillow. But Mor knew her girl, knew exactly what you could take and what you liked, so she slid in another finger.

“Ah!”

Mor pressed a kiss to your clit as she continued to pump both fingers in and roll your nipple between her fingers.

“Mmm… I like those sounds, babygirl. Keep going.”

She licked and nipped at your skin, along your thighs and suckled your clit. The hands playing with your chest wandered up your neck and over your lips and you knew what she wanted.

You parted your lips and let her slid her fingers inside. You swirled your tongue around them, sucking on her fingers. Her long, pretty fingers. You were too shy to say but you had such a fascination with Mor’s fingers. They were long and pretty and when they were manicured?? You were a goner.

You whined when she pulled her fingers out but let out a sharp moan when she ran her now wet fingers down your chest.

Mor sped up her work at your core, fingerfucking you to an orgasm.

You were so close, especially with the wet sound of her fingers pumping in and out of you spurring you on.

Mor could tell you were about to climax and she finally detached her head from between your legs and sat up to kiss you. She always liked to be kissing when she made you cum.

“My. Pretty. Girl.” She said between kisses. On the third kiss, she latched onto your lips and didn’t let go. She wiggled her bare chest against yours, her nipple grazing over your wet ones. The friction was too good.

“Mor!!” You cried out as you finally felt your orgasm wash over you, her fingers fucking you through it and her lips never leaving yours.

Your thighs were shakey and your hole was so sensitive as Mor slowly pulled her fingers from you, circling your clit with your cum as she did and giving your pussy a little smack.

“Ah!” You buried your head in her neck and bit down on the skin in retaliation. Mor loved to tease you when you were all sensitive and overstimulated.

Mor giggled and wrapped you up in her arms, pulling you close to her. She pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“I love you.”

“I love you.” Your declaration came out a bit breathless but it was true nonetheless.

Mor sat up, readjusting herself and laying her head on your chest.

“Rest, sweetheart. I’ll make you some lunch when you wake up.”

Immediately, you sat up, causing Mor to fall into a sitting position on your lap.

“I don’t think so, Morrigan.” You whispered. Your fingers spider-walked up Mor’s sternum.

Mor’s brown eyes widened at the tone in your voice.

“Why?”

You hummed and pretended to look contemplative.

“Because your perfect tits started this whole mess,” You said, pinching one of her nipples to underscore your words, eliciting a sharp moan from your lover. “You had your fun with me and now it’s my turn.”

You licked a stripe up her chest and around her nipple, sucking on it.

“Fuck.” Mor hissed, her hand sliding up into your hair and holding on by the roots. You’d be sure to give Mor a few love bites on her chest, a little trophy to memorialize your first wet t-shirt contest.

“Beautiful,” she murmurs, fingers running through your hair, a light tug on the ends. You lean into her touch, arching your neck. 

She chuckles, her thumb brushing against your pulse with a feather light stroke. Each gentle caress set you on fire, anticipating her next one. The blindfold cut off your senses, leaving you completely at her mercy, exactly where you wanted to be. 

“Please,” you whisper, unsure of what you’re asking for. 

“Oh?” Her thumb tilts your chin, nimble fingers slipping behind your head, pulling on the light knot before swiping the silk to the side. You hear it flutter to the floor next to you. “What is it?” Her thumb and forefinger tighten around your chin. 

“I want you,” the needy plea slips from your lips before you can think, the second “please,” an afterthought.

Red lips curve up at the corners, and she kneels before you. ‘A goddess,’ you think. Right in front of you. 

Head tilts to the side as she leans in, breath warm against your neck, “and how do you want me?” 

“However you’ll let me,” the response is instinctive, and her soft laugh sends heat to your cheeks. 

Surprisingly calloused hands grip under your arms, dragging you to your feet, pushing you back. She holds you steady, letting your shaky legs find balance.

The blindfold finds its way around your eyes again, secure and snug. Hands grip your waist, the only thing keeping you steady as she pushes you, the backs of your thighs hitting soft silk before you’re moved up - laid back on what you assume is the center of the bed. 

One leg moved up towards your chest, her grip on the back of your knee, fresh air hitting your core, making you squirm. 

“Stay still,” there’s a hint of demand in her tone, freezing you in place, giving in to that beautiful submission only she brings out in you. 

Subtle shifts in the air around you, the quiet rustle of sheets, before you feel her. 

“Gods, gods, gods,” you chant - Mor said nothing about staying quiet. 

Her clit brushed against yours, picking up speed with each pass. You wish you could see her, her blonde hair flowing around her shoulders, head tilted back, red lips parted in pleasure. Imagining it is almost enough. You want to give in to the temptation, to rip the blindfold away from your eyes, but Mor’s trained you too well for that. 

“So. Fucking. Good,” the words come between moans, her nails scratching down your chest, brushing over your nipple. 

Your release comes moments before hers, pushed on by the way she squeezes and pinches your breasts, how she leans down to kiss the space below your ear, your moans and whimpers molding together. 

Finally, she still on top of you, one hand still braced on her thigh, heavy breaths. 

A hand wiggles under your head and you squeeze your eyes shut, the light suddenly too much. Arms wrap around your back, pulling you on top of her, one hand brushing over your hair.