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evilminji · 2 months

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I woke up to this thought? And it made me smile~

Wrong way Au?

It's EASY to fly from point A to point B. Linear. Just on long, no traffic, straight line. And if you get lost? Go higher! There you are! But "normal" reporter families with Totally Human genetics can't exactly DO that.

Plus? It's part of the whole Americana thing!

Childhood.

Gotta do a road trip, see weird road side attractions, camp and hike a bit. Go somewhere other then the farm for once. Soooo~ everyone into the car! Yes, you too, Kon.

And don't look at Lois, kids. She hates this idea as much as you do. But it's for Dad. So we're doing it. Get in the car. Some times loving people means "suuuure, honey! I TOTALLY want to sit in an uncomfortable car for hours for your nostalgic dream trip!", so get comfy.

Problem is? He either can't navigate for SHIT (unlikely) or this patch of nowhere? Possibly haunted? Cursed? Fuckey. Very, very Reality Fuckey. Far more likely, honestly. They THINK that was the a same barn the passed four times now... but it looks... wrong? Off. Worse each time, in ways that are hard to place.

Where the FUCK are they Clark?

According to the GPS?

Here.

(You are Here. You are Here. You are He-)

Oh, THAT'S not cursed! She fucking KNEW they shouldn't have left the city. FUCK the countryside. She likes ONE(1) small town and it's where her in-laws live, THANK YOU VERY MUCH! If they die, she swear to GOD-!!!

Then Jon points to colorful tents up the road. A mix of the kind you buy at big box stores and Ren fairs. Balloons. What the fuuuuuck? "Fenton Family Reunion"?

Was... was that THERE a second ago?

Clark's very deliberate Not Too Tight Grip Of Panic ™ on the steering wheel? Confirms that No Honey, it was not. Kon points out? That eventually they ARE going to run out of gas. They should stop.

Words can not express how little the Kents want to do that. They have KIDS to protect. This feels "magical fuckery" to them. AKA? One of the few things Kryptonians very much CAN NOT handle.

And luck getting ahold of anybody back there kids? No? Emergency lines too?

Fuck ™.

Okay! Guess we're stopping! Stay behind us.

They park.

There are campers and trucks, modified tanks and trackers. A few horses grazing side by side with an honest to God moose and two mules. A Llama. Someone's anchored a dirigible. A boat with spindly chicken footed legs, like it's the house of baba yaga's sea faring love child. The name Fenton is slapped on everything. Peoples faces.

Grinning.

Everything grinning.

As they get closer, the racket gets louder. Crashes and smashes. Roaring laughter. Explosions. The screech of metal failing and the whine of energy overclocked. Fatty meats cooking. Spices from around the globe. Radios and instruments, at least one of which violently cuts off in a smash.

They pass an almost violently balloon choked arch, into chaos.

Grinning giants, everywhere. Every color, every shade, every race imaginable. The spectrum of humanity laid bare. Made large. Grinning, Grinning, Grinning. Crashing into each other, against, through. Smashing and laughing, as everything breaks around them. Titans.

Darting underfoot, children. Fast with wild eyes. Mad grins and fae laughs. Wives and husband's, partners and friends, dancing in and out of the chaos. Just as destructive. Perhaps MORE so. Grabbing meals from grills, laughing and joking, tossing children into the fray, all as they effortless hold conversations of their own.

Like a Dionysian revelry, all madness and joy.

Then they are noticed.

"Cousin!"

One of them booms. Locking eyes on Clark. He doesn't even have time to move, doesn't realize until too late, in all the chaos, that the man meant HIM. A running start is followed by a brutal, full body, flying tackle. Clark is taken skidding to the ground and into a headlock.

"LETS WRASTLE~!!"

He watches in helpless confusion as, with high-pitched war cries, a pair of twins jump Jon. They are wearing war paint. Krypto already taken out by a glowing green dog, now confused and wrestling off to the side. Lois has whipped out her tazer. Kon between her and who ever comes next.

By the time he wrestle his "cousin" off of him, he's lost sight of them both.

Dives into the fray.

Magic be damned, that's his FAMILY!

It... It's the most fun he's had in years. That any of them have. He finds Lois in a breathless, screaming, debate/fistfight with her new best friend. Samantha "call me Sam Or ELSE" Manson-Fouley-Fenton. Kon is in the mud pit, wrestling other teenagers in some sort of battle Royale. Jon? Has become king of the ferals. The other parents are impressed.

His years of Damian wrangling finally paying dividends, apparently.

By the time Clark FINALLY tracks down Krypto, there is already crowd and it apparently six heel turns deep into the WWE Grand Saga of the Fenton Pet's League. Krypto, what the hell. No. No you may NOT "form one last alliance against my sworn wrestling enemy, to prove the true meaning of Christmas!" It's the middle of SUMMER!

Clark... Clark is so tired.

He's also a Fenton now. Yes, he KNOWS that's not how anything works. YOU try explaining that! He's on the call list and card list. It's like the Addams family out here! They just... just DECIDED him and his family were related! They've apparently DONE THAT BEFORE!

They leave with directions, fudge, more leftovers then anyone could possibly eat, and a massive new extended family. One that honestly? The Justice League SHOULD have known about. The sheer destructive chaos they get up too? EVERYONE should be aware of them. It seems impossible NOT to be! But? According to THEM, it's a "family thing". Reality tries to ignore them for "it's own sanity"? What???

So yeah.... no more road trips.

How was YOUR weekend?

@hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @lolottes @babbling-babull @dcxdpdabbles @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation

#minji's writing #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #welcome to the family au #fenton family reunion

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b00kdiary · 2 months

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Can we please get an Eris x Plus size reader!!! I know he would be feral and you would write him so good >3

I will take ANYTHING for him!!! I trust you completely x

Fire Night | Eris Vanserra

Eris X Plus size Reader

It’s Fire Night and High Lord Eris has to complete the Great Rite. He finds Y/N – he finds his maiden.

Warning: Mature themes (18+), swearing, creepy Fae dude, and smut.

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

"Nervous?" Lucien teased from beside me, the moonlight and stars above beaming down on his tawny skin and the pleased smile he wore.

"High Lords don't get nervous, little brother," I smirked, winking at him as he scoffed, unimpressed by my sure response.

But even my own arrogance couldn't hide the fire I felt simmering in my veins, the intensity getting stronger and stronger as the moon neared its apex. Mud and grass ground under my feet as we moved through the field, the wind blowing a cool breeze that ran over my short hair, my loose slacks, and my painted bare chest.

As if the earth itself was in anticipation of what was to come.

We stopped at the foot of the field, the slight downhill slope allowing us to see the broad scope of just how many of my people gathered tonight. Hordes of males and females – dancing, drinking, partying. They vibrated with anticipation too.

For Fire Night had come at long last.

It was my first as High Lord. For weeks we had been preparing for the Great Rite, for the moment where all the magic would be funnelled from me into the earth, to the soil and trees, to my court to feed it, to flourish it.

It had been all we had talked about for several months, yet now that it was here, it all felt surreal. I could smell the burning log fires, the clouds of soot misting the night air. I could see my people thrum with excitement and arousal, keen to find a pretty stranger to escape into the darkness with.

But most importantly, I felt my power within me, like a beast rearing its head. I felt it sharpening, honing, as a predator would before the ultimate hunt for prey.

"Has anyone caught your eye yet?" Lucien asked from beside me, metal eye ticking as he glanced sidelong at me. If he felt my restlessness, he did not comment on it. "There are many beautiful females here tonight, Eris. How will you choose your maiden?"

My Maiden. The female whom I would join with – mind, body, and soul for the magic within me to be released.

My senses felt acute now, narrowing the higher and higher the moon rose. My attention upon the females here tonight narrowed too. I felt many of their eyes on me, their attention on me, hoping to be chosen, to be given the honour of the Maiden tonight.

Lucien was right, there were dozens of beautiful females here, so many, and all different – tall, short, fair, dark, petite, curved, brunettes, blondes, redheads and –

My wandering gaze stopped, abruptly. And I could not look away, even if I wanted to.

For there, at the far end of the field, stood near hidden amongst a group of females I saw her. For a moment, the fire in me quelled, the noise around me silenced, and it seemed even the breeze fell still.

For her.

She with that bright smile and those glowing doe eyes. She with luscious hair and skin that seemed kissed by the moonlight. She with that body – fuck, that body. Curves upon curves upon curves. A canvas of flesh that I desired to spend eternity exploring.

To touch and taste and pleasure.

"I don't choose," My voice was like gravel, deepening as I watched her plump lips part and her head tilt back with a laugh. A laugh I desperately wished I could hear. "I will just know who my maiden is."

That's what the Priestesses had told me – you will know, Eris, when you see her. You will feel her presence, you will scent her skin, you will hear the sound of her voice and you will know.

I grimaced as they spoke, biting my tongue to stop myself from smarting about how tradition usually came with little logic. But now, now I understood. Because looking at her, I knew.

Mine. That's what my magic hummed. That she was mine.

"It's beginning," Lucien muttered, twisting his braid from his shoulder to swing down his painted back. I watched her, something sparking in my chest as she giggled, marvelling at the moon slotting into its place high above. And then she began running toward the forest with the crowd.

Grinning brightly, her hair flowing behind her with the breeze of the wind. Her bare feet padded against the floor, her hand holding her skirt high enough to expose the soft flesh at her thighs. Incandescent, like a living star she disappeared with her friends into the trees.

The hunt had begun. I felt it in me, the near-painful heat of my fire within, the tension pulling tauter and tauter as if desperate to escape. Desperate to follow – to follow her, down that path and into the darkness beyond.

"I assume Elain is somewhere in the forest, waiting for you," I smirked at my brother, seeing something glint in his russet eye at the mention of the fair female. "Shouldn't you be off to find your mate?"

The fox hunting his fawn. I felt a mixture of pride and joy as my brother began chuckling, meandering down the hill in search of his wife at my teasing words.

"You have your maiden and I have mine," Lucien winked, his heart racing in his chest as he followed that bond, that invisible string toward his mate. "Good luck, Eris."

I laughed as Lucien moved toward the tree line, following the crowds of giddy, drunken Fae every single one of them in a hunt of their own. The drums quickened their beat, the rhythm marching in time to the pulse in me, that raging storm.

The moon was at its apex. The Great Rite had begun.

And as I stormed down the hill and into the forest's mouth, I too tugged on the invisible string within me, tugged on that insatiable power.

I knew it would take me straight to her.

***

"Sara? Maeve?" I called out again, looking aimlessly through the acres of forest and night. My voice died out in the wind, drowned by the noise of people and the beat of drums. "Guys?"

I groaned as I waded over branches and fallen trees, my Fae eyesight the only thing stopping me from cutting open my feet or falling onto my ass. I lifted my muddied skirt higher, exposing my thighs to the brash wind as I climbed over a huge tree root.

"Guys?" I tried again. I heard a feminine giggle, and I whipped to the right – a male and female rushed past me, kissing, and touching as they waded further into the forest. I shook my head at them, knowing they were one of many seeking refuge in another's arms tonight.

Fire Night, or the Great Rite as some called it was for all accounts and purposes a fuck fest. Simply a huge orgy.

Where the citizens of each court partied and drank and danced through the night, where they loosened their inhibitions and ran away with pretty strangers to engage in activities otherwise taboo. It was the one night where no one cared and no one judged, the one night where every intimacy was encouraged, every orgasm needed to fuel the harvest.

Only the High Lord had a true role tonight. To find his maiden, to join with her and through that release all the power within him back into the land. It was their intimacy that mattered the most tonight, their releases that would take us into a fruitful Spring season.

Sara and Maeve had laughed and scolded me for calling it a fuck fest, for diminishing such an old tradition. And yet, they had dragged me along tonight anyway. I was coaxed with music and dancing and alcohol, told that we would frolic through fields and bask in the moonlight and drink until we couldn't see.

And for a while, we had done exactly that.

We had sipped at the Fae wine until all I could taste was grape. We danced around the log fires with ribbons in our hair and the wind on our skin until our feet ached. We had enjoyed the lovely music, Sara flirting with the lute player, teasing him to come find her in the forest later.

And we had basked in the moonlight, frolicked through the forest, and laughed and laughed and laughed – until about ten minutes ago, when I had lost Sara and Meave in a flurry of people, my hand slipping free from theirs until I was carried away by a wave of the crowd in the opposite direction.

I was lost. And I had wandered far enough out into the forest that no one was here but me. I should have been panicked, should have been scared, but the Fae wine I had drank earlier quelled all those instincts, quelled them until nothing but the faint hum of inebriation remained.

"Not lost are you, darling?"

I jumped at the voice, the rough amusement breaking through the distant sound of music and the far-out litter of voices. I turned, my breath caught in my lungs and latched my eyes upon a male standing not two feet before me.

Dark hair, dark eyes, tall, built, attractive – and staring at me like he wondered what my blood would taste like coating his tongue.

"No, no," I shook my head, tightening my hold around my skirt, my instinct screaming at me that I may need to run. The male took a step forward, eyes darting to the exposed skin peeking under my skirt. "I was just looking for my friends."

"A pretty thing like you shouldn't be out here alone," He clucked his tongue. He stepped forward. I stepped back. He grinned and revulsion ran through me. "I can be your friend if you'd like. Take care of you."

I knew exactly how he would take care of me. Knew exactly what depravity was running through his mind as he stalked closer and closer to me. I shook my head again, the forest terrifyingly quiet now as I yielded step after step from him.

"I'm fine, thank you," My knuckles were white from how tightly I held my skirt. I eyed the clearing behind him, the path back to the people and fires and dancing. Back to safety. His dark eyes glinted like he knew he was the one obstacle in my path. "I should return to the festivities – "

"Oh, come on," His voice turned sharp, lethal and I felt bile twist in my stomach as his slender hand clamped around my wrist, tugging me toward him. I smelt the wine on his breath as he yanked me to his side. "We both know you're not here for the music and dancing."

"Let go," I breathed, trying to pull my arm free. He clamped down until it hurt. My wide eyes met his, tears in them as I tried to pull back. "I said – "

"Let go," A voice of a God seared through the air. Tinged with flames and violence. "She said let go."

The male holding me snarled quietly, his drunken gaze ripping from my terrified face to whoever dared interrupt behind him.

His hand was furiously holding me one second and then the next his fingers slipped free. I stumbled back, clutching my aching wrist to my chest and staring at that unnervingly still male as he stared ahead. He was so tall, so broad I couldn't see who was there, couldn't see what had made him so scared.

"I'm sorry," He whispered. His voice cracked. I think I smelt urine too. "I'm sorry, High-"

"Leave," That voice again, as if torn from the Cauldron itself. So much anger, so much death promised in just one word.

And with that command, that trembling weak male scurried away like the vermin he was. Tail between his legs, head bowed and eyes on the floor, so small now as he ran back toward the field. And as he shifted from my eyeline, I saw what, who had begot that fear.

"High Lord," I breathed, the air whooshing from my lungs at the sight of the male stood before me.

Tall, foreboding, broad – Glorious.

I traced his pale, moonlit skin his chest exposed and painted beautifully with intricate dark whorls, every strong hard inch of him. His hair had been cut short, the bright auburn locks like a beacon in the darkness, as were his eyes – amber, and I swore I saw flames simmering in them as he slowly stalked toward me.

The air went taut – as if time and space and life itself had paused at our meeting. And the sight of him, that beautiful, indomitable masculine strength had my body trembling the closer he got.

My back hit a massive tree behind me and suddenly, like a lamb before a lion, I was caged in, trapped. He stopped, so close I could smell the warm cinnamon, the tart apple and rich clove on his skin. I could feel the heat of the fire in his veins, could feel the sweet burn of his gaze as he traced his eyes over my face and body.

"Did he hurt you?" He asked, voice like warmed honey and tart berries. I sucked in a sharp breath when his large hand came forward, tucking my hair behind an arched ear, his fingers brushing my skin just barely. I felt that touch through my whole body.

"No, I'm fine," I whispered, the pine digging into my back. Something in me yearned to go closer to him, yearned to feed into his touch, but I fought it, let the cut of wood against my skin distract me. "Thank you, for your help High Lord."

He stepped closer and I had to crane my neck to meet his furious, wild eyes. His hand lingered on my cheek, burning burning burning. And then his other hand moved, rested against the tree beside my head, and he leaned in, so close I knew he could smell the sweet wine with every shaking breath I took.

"Do you know how I found you, My Lady?" He asked, quiet menace lacing his words. I smelt mint and cider on his breath. I nearly moaned at how good it smelt. He continued when I didn't reply. "I followed my power. Followed the scent of you, the sound of you followed every print you made in the ground."

"Why?" I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as he inched forward, his beautiful face lowering to mine until I could count the freckles across his cheeks, could see the embers crackling in his iris. My eyes fluttered when his nose brushed mine and sparks followed that touch.

"My magic wanted you; it chose you," He said, a growl rumbling through him as he traced his nose across my cheek, letting my scent invade his senses. "My maiden. Mine."

Maiden.

Mine.

There was a lump lodged in my throat as the realisation settled in me. That I had been chosen, that I was the maiden for the Great Rite tonight. Me.

Eris pulled back, dark lashes fluttering as he peered down at me, his aura addictive and dark, assessing each rise and fall of my chest. Calloused fingers cupped my jaw, his thumb brushing along the skin there, leaving fire and need in its wake.

That burning in me it was because of him. It was in response to him.

"Do you accept, My Lady?" He breathed, and the way he addressed me, was full of reverence, of awe. A match for the look in his eyes as he traced my face, languished down my body. "Will you be my maiden? Will you let me worship you tonight?"

Worship me. He wanted to worship me, not the other way around. A night that was for him, that revered his power and yet he spoke as if this ceremony was in fealty to me as if I were the Goddess he would bow before.

That hand languished down my jaw, down my neck, the touch appraising, stopping just at the top of my chest. His amber eyes dipped, darkening at the valley between my breasts, at the material that clung to the small peaks of my nipples.

Worship, that is what his eyes said. Veneration at the foot of my altar.

"Yes, High Lord," I whispered, every word as breathless as the last. His hand on my chest tightened, and the ache that spread through me became nearly unbearable. "Tonight, I am yours."

A tsunami of fire erupted in his eyes at my words and every inch of me was molten at that look. At the promise behind it.

"Then I am yours too, My Lady."

He's upon me before I can even appreciate his words, the oath behind them. And by the Mother, I could taste the fire on his lips, taste the flames burning in his sweet mouth.

My back hits the tree as Eris claims me, his lips moving against mine in a way that could only be described as hungry. Lips and teeth and tongue and spit, the kind of kiss that devoured, that did not leave even an inch of space.

I moaned at the feel of his mouth against mine, moaned more as he pressed his tall, strong body flush against me, letting me map out every muscled inch of him. He growls at the noises that slip from me and into him, one hand curling around the base of my throat and squeezing.

"Eris," I whimper, the breath catching in my lungs as his long fingers close around my windpipe just barely. He groans, like a man starved as I nibble at his lip.

"Say that again," He commands, voice like death incarnate. And every atom in me wants to obey, every atom in me lives to satisfy him.

"Eris," I plead his name again, my back arching against the wood as he begins kissing and biting furiously across my jaw and jugular, the hand at my throat keeping me rooted in place. "Eris, please – "

I cry out at the sound of fabric tearing and suddenly, I feel a cold breeze against my back and hips. More fabric rips and I whimper as Eris yanks my ruined dress from my body, savage as he exposes my naked form to him.

"Fuck," He curses roughly, eyes like Hel itself as he gazes down at my naked body, my dress a ruined heap on the floor behind us now. My body is alight as he traces every inch of me, his chest erratic as he takes in my bare breasts, my stomach and hips, the way I clench my thighs to satiate the ache between them.

"Look at you," He muses, smirking as he runs his hands down the sides of my body, nails scratching at my flesh, his pupils blown out with lust as he takes me in. "Like a blessing from the Mother herself."

I croon at the satisfied growl in every word, back bowing when his hands caress down my waist and hips, kneading the skin before settling over my ass. He groans as he fondles the flesh, canines nipping at the base of my throat.

“Eris!” I squeal when his hand claps against my ass cheek, the sound loud in the silence of the forest. He laughs, massaging the hot, aching spot and it’s almost embarrassing how wet I am, embarrassing how I can feel it dripping down my thighs. “Please, please Eris. Take me – “

“I will, my lady,” He mutters, the sound muffled as he circles his tongue around my nipple, teasing the sensitive buds. I lace my fingers into his short, silken hair and I feel him sink down, down, down, my body.

“High Lord?” My voice is shaking as I stare down at him. He’s on his knees before me, amber eyes peering up through long lashes at my naked, trembling body.

High Lord of the Autumn Court. On his knees before me.

“I’ll take you, sweet girl, don’t you worry,” He muses, and I’m not breathing as his hands come to my thick thighs, parting them and moaning at the wetness dripping from my core. His eyes flash to me, molten and cruel. “But a female as pretty as you has to come on my tongue before she can around my cock.”

He looked ravenous as he curled his large hand around my calf and lifted my leg to hook over his broad shoulder. I should have been embarrassed, mortified at the prospect of being naked in the middle of a forest, for anyone to stumble upon.

But as he neared the wet, aching spot between my legs, I didn’t care.

“Oh Gods,” I gasped at the first broad stroke of his tongue through my folds. Eris growled, a purely satisfied, appraising sound and when he traced his tongue up from my wet hole and to my clit again, my head tilted back against the bark, and I moaned.

I was grateful for the drums and the music pounding through the air, glad for how far into the forest we were, glad that everyone else was preoccupied with their own partners tonight. Because as Eris’s tongue licked and sucked and flicked against my core, I couldn’t contain any of the noises that ripped from me.

Eris groaned, content and satiated, one hand sprawled across my thigh, the other holding down my flailing hip as he lapped his tongue over me again and again, tasting me in a way that had tears brimming in my eyes.

“Taste so sweet,” He muttered, lips plucking back from my swollen clit, the sound so lewd. He didn’t waste any time though, no, he slipped lower, and I whimpered into the night air as he shoved his hot tongue into me, fucking my tight walls furiously.

Eris was a male who took his females pleasure seriously, seemed to feed off it, and seemed to relish it. His tongue slipped in and out of me and his nose brushed my clit back and forth, stimulating two spots that made my body shake from the pleasure.

My climax approached me so fast, that fire that simmered in me from Eris’s presence stoked and suddenly I felt the flames kiss my whole body.

I cried out, his tongue buried in me and his nose toying with my clit, the sounds wet and filthy, his grumble of approval vibrating through me.

“Eris, Eris – “

Everything eclipsed my vision as my orgasm hit me, so hard I felt it rattle my very bones. My back bowed and my eyes rolled, tremors wrecking me as waves of release washed over me. I was moaning, near crying, my stomach and thighs clenching and unclenching as Eris’s tongue lapped and lapped at me.

I felt my release pulsing in the air around us, a living breathing thing. I swear the wind kissed me at the feeling as if nature itself was thanking me for the power I’d let free into the world.

I whined desperately, pushing at his head and writhing, trying to pull my sensitive clit free from his merciless mouth. He chuckled, lips plucking away and relenting. I sagged in relief, back pressed flush to the tree behind me.

“You look so beautiful,” Eris breathed and my heavy eyes blinked open meeting his. He looked beautiful – on his knees, sweat coating his skin, my wetness glistening over his mouth and nose. “I wonder how perfect you'll look coming around my cock.”

He smirked, looking like a Prince of Hel as his hand snaked up my sweating body and wrapped firmly around my throat. He tugged me down, his lips crashing against mine, letting me taste myself on his tongue. My hands fell to his broad, muscled chest and his arm snaked around my back, fingers digging into me.

One second, I was before him and then the next, he yanked me down and flipped me so that I lay on my back against the grass and mud.

I giggled, my heart thundering wildly in my chest as he braced his arms on either side of me, face hovering over mine. The smirk he wore was terrifying, a promise of ruination. I could feel the tension going taut between us, feel his power thrumming in anticipation.

“Are you ready, my lady?” Eris asked, wicked menace lacing every word. I whimpered as his nose brushed mine, one hand slipping between our bodies and pushing down his slacks. He hissed as his cock slipped free, his hand curling around himself and pumping.

“Yes, High Lord,” I whispered, satisfaction filling me when Eris snarled, that title on my lips more arousing than he could think possible. His nails dug into my flesh as he hooked my thigh around his muscled hip, and we both moaned when his tip brushed my centre.

He was big, thick, and long, I could feel it as he traced through my folds, coating himself in me. I curled one hand into his short hair, the other raked down his muscled arm, his skin scorching with intense heat, vibrating with power under my touch.

“Oh – “

He slipped his tip into me, and the stretch from just that one inch was enough to knock the air from my lungs. And then my back was arching against the soft ground, as he pushed in another inch and then another until my walls were burning and my thighs were shaking from the pressure.

“Look at me,” Eris commanded, his voice hissing through his clenched teeth. I blinked my eyes open, meeting a sea of blazing embers. Eris grinned as he maxed out in me, his hips brushing mine as he settled. “Good girl.”

“Er-Eris – “ I choke, my body spasming as he pulls his cock out to the tip, leaving me utterly bare before slamming his hips forward in one brutal thrust, forcing himself back into me until he hits my cervix.

He does that again and again. He pulls out and then he shoves it back in. Every last inch. And I scream for him, I clench around him, I let him ruin me.

My body trembles as Eris begins fucking into me, his hips rolling hard and deep, stretching my tight walls until all the pain vanishes and becomes a pure, euphoric pleasure. His pace is brutal, unforgiving, his hold on my body bruising as he forces me to adjust, forces me to take it.

“Just like that,” He praises the voice of a God, the voice of a High Lord, a male who was in complete control. His lips meet mine, teeth and spit, biting my lips and battling my tongue as he moves inside me.

It was like no other experience I’d ever had, like sleeping with no other male. I felt every stroke through my whole body, felt every brush of his tip in the spongey spot deep in me through my blood and veins. Was it because he was a High Lord? Was it because of the Great Rite? It had never felt this good before.

And Eris seemed to know it, he seemed to feel the same. The noises that came from the High Lord, the snarls and growls, the grumble of deep groans that reverberated into me as he sunk in at a different angle. The small whimpers and desperate moans as I kissed and suckled his lips, his jaw and neck.

His hips jolt into me, hard and deep and fast, hitting a spot that makes tears leak down my cheeks. Tears that Eris chuckles at, a sardonic sound before he gently licks them away. His kisses were soft, so at odds with how his cock fucked me raw.

“Eris,” My mouth gapes open as that familiar pool in me begins to fill. “Oh Gods, Eris I’m going to come – “

His hand wraps around my throat, squeezing in intervals around my windpipe, in tandem with how his cock drives into me. Stars start bursting through my gaze, I see his amber eyes, I see the moon shining above, and I feel my power gathering and gathering.

“Are you going to come, my lady?” He mocks, sweat beads coating his skin, melting our bodies together. I sob, the sound choking out of me from the lack of air. “Is the maiden going to make a mess of her High Lords cock?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” I cry out at his filthy words, my nails biting against his skin, against his scalp as the fire in me rages into a full-blown storm. Eris curses at how tightly I clench around him and his amber eyes light, like candles flickering to life.

The air turns still. The wind stops moving. Even the sound around us dies out. He hits that spot in me again and again, and the power between us is starting to tear apart.

“With me,” Eris snarls, pressing a wet kiss to my lips. His movements become erratic, desperate, and that last thread rips away and he groans. “Come with me, my lady.”

I scream his name, and flames engulf us both as he roars, his cock spasming and spilling his cum inside me. Black dots fill my vision, and all I can feel, all I become is fire – it explodes from us, from him, as release waves and waves and waves over us.

It's unlike any climax I’d ever felt before, my thighs clamping around his waist, my walls suffocating him inside me and both our bodies shaking from the aftermath. Power leaks from him, from me, and I can feel it seeping into the soil, into the trees, into the very air.

I force my eyes open, watching as Eris pants above me, one hand holding my throat, the other braced beside my head. A God, he looked like a God – moonlight beaming over his wet skin, amber eyes a tsunami of flames, his strong throat working as he groaned from the pleasure ringing from him.

The ultimate release, not just sexually, not just physically, but spiritually – he was feeding our land, feeding our Court.

“Fuck,” Eris curses, voice like gravel now. He collapses against my chest, burying his head into the crook of my neck as his orgasm fades, as the Great Rite is completed. I hold him to me, our heart beats pounding in tandem as we come down from our highs. “Fuck.”

I run my hand through the damp stands of his hair, kissing his cheek tenderly, feeling his cock still inside me, softening. His hands curl around my waist and thigh, not even an inch of space between us. It was just me and him, the moon above, the forest around and the wind kissing our skin.

The earth felt fuller somehow, everything felt stronger around us.

“Congratulations, High Lord,” I smiled, feeling Eris chuckle against my skin. He kisses the junction where my neck and shoulder meet. “You’ve completed your first Fire Night.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, my maiden,” He nipped at my jaw as he raised his head, grinning at the giggle that escaped me. His amber eyes met mine, liquid gold in them and he smiled. “Only your sweet – “

His words stopped, abruptly. As if someone had torn the air from his lungs. As if someone had frozen all movement in his body.

“Eris, what – “

Amber eyes. Pale moonlit skin. Fire, fire, fire –

And then it clicks into place in me too. I feel it like the last piece of my soul.

“Mate,” Eris breathes, and his hands tighten over my flesh. Possessive. Needy. Claiming. “You’re my mate.”

-----------------------------------------------------------

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readychilledwine · 3 months

Text

Small World Pt 2

Summary - After discovering you and Azriel share much more than a mating bond, your relationship grows stronger as tensions between you and your aunt seem to grow higher.

Warnings - implied emotional and mental abuse, second child syndrome in a not good way, we find out Nyx is an asshole, unrequited love, slight smut, use of daddy

A/n - a potentially cliff hanger ending because I haven't decided 100% how this ends

Peep Part 1 Here 💙

Azriel stared at the dress box sitting on Rhysand's desk and nicely folded Illyrian leathers. He couldn't remember the last time he had worn them. The last time he had used a siphon. The leathers were fitted for 7, something Azriel immediately knew would no longer work.

His powers after removing the precious stones had gone wild. His shadows were different now. They were more aware, able to span wider distances, and able to recruit more shadows into his network to join them.

He had spent 5 years alone meditating and learning even more control over them, over what they could do, over how deadly they actually could be.

7 siphons would not be enough.

And he didn't understand how Rhysand did not see that.

He finally spoke, gesturing to the box. "What is this?"

Rhys was settled in his chair, trying to maintain his composure as Cassian stood near the bookshelf to mediate if needed. "We're going to the Court of Nightmares. My daughter's engagement has spread like wildfire, and dear Keir wants to host a party in her honor."

A breathy chuckle left Azriel's lips before he could stop it. "So my fiancée will be dressed like a goddess while I am in leathers at a party to mock us?"

Cassian shifted slightly. "We've always worn leathers to Hewn City, Az. It's to honor our heritage." Rhys just inclined his head to Cassian and nodded. "Y/n wears leathers."

"She has never worn a single set in the 2 years we've been together. There isn't even a set in her closet."

"There's several sets in her closet here," Rhys said quietly. "All set up for pink siphons. 14 of them." Cassian and Azriel couldn't help their chuckles. "Imagine a blonde Illyrian with pink siphons, Azriel, its quite the sight." Rhys smiled fondly, eyes glimmering with pride despite everything. "She's-" he looked up, searching for the perfect word for his daughter. "She's my everything. And I've done a horrible job showing her that."

Azriel sucked in a deep breath. "I won't mediate this, Rhys. This is a you two thing. Not an us three thing."

Azriel knew now why you were estranged from your family. Nyx was their golden child. Constantly praised, admired, in the spotlight. He was, and still is, their reminder of how they had almost died to pass along their love. He could do no wrong, never be wrong, and was treated as such.

You, on the other hand, were the second child. The significantly younger one Nyx learned to plant blame on and watch as you were scolded and seen as "the problem" as you had told him you were now addressed as in Hewn City and Illyria. You had been raised by Ness more than Feyre and Rhys, passed off to them until your powers bloomed at 16, and suddenly your father found you interesting again. With a lack of a spymaster, he exploited you, forcing you to touch people and feel their emotions, when they lied, their stories. Forcing you to live trauma over and over of females clipped in the mountains, of tortured traitors in dungeons, of Nesta's dark phase.

You locked your powers so far away one day, so deep inside you that even you hardly could access them unless you actually wanted to. It had been just before your 18th birthday that happened. And then the fight that sealed the casket happened. Rhys had verbally lashed you. Attacked you for refusing to let him use your "one worth" to keeping his family and court safe.

Your father had said he saw you as useless, and everyone else just stood by watching.

Like they had with Nesta.

Only you were just a child. Not a head strong warrior, a goddess in fae form.

You packed the basics and spent the night on the streets in a dark alley.

Even if you and Rhys magically fixed things, even if you forgave but not forgot, Azriel would never. How you were raised, how you've been treated, it forever will taint his vision of Rhys, Feyre, and Nyx. The abuse they unleashed on you, they'd never make up for.

Rhys nodded, eyes glancing to the doorway as footsteps approached. "I would never ask you to fix my relationship with her when I need to fix my relationship with you as well. I just need you to know I love her. That she will always be my girl."

"You have an odd way of showing her your lo-"

The door opened, and you stepped in, immediately going to Azriel's side and eyeing the box. "Dad. Cassian." You opened the lid and nodded. "Well. At least it's sparkly."

Rhys cocked his head. "You don't like it?"

Azriel watched as you paused. The bond flared with conflicting emotions. Anger, hurt, longing. How long had it been since Rhys held you? Since he told you he loved you without you having to earn it. "No, I like it. I just know what this means. You never give me nice things unless Hewn City is involved." The last sentence trailed off quietly, and pain flooded the bond.

Rhys looked down, nodding as he scratched the stubble growing on his face. "I am sorry. I just-"

"Please don't. You never mean it." You grabbed the box. "I will wear it and find jewelry." You turned to Azriel. "Elain would like to speak with you. She said something about a garden you two planned together and how I'll never understand the love you two share. How it breaks bonds and shakes worlds."

The relationship between you and Azriel had been messy since dinner two weeks ago. You two had your first fight over, of course, Elain and her rekindled love, lust, whichever felt appropriate at the moment for Azriel. He ignored the constant letters, the random headache powders, the message coded flowers.

He had reached out to Lucien, asking the male what had happened. According to the new Lord of Day, Elain and he had tried for 5 years, but the damage had been done. Lucien didn't trust Elain, Elain spent most of their time comparing the two of them, and nothing Lucien gave her was enough. He had been the one to reject the bond, and after 7 years, he had found himself heavily involved in a relationship with a now fully fae Vassa and Jurian.

Rhys and Cassian both gave him gentle looks of concern as he held your hand, preventing you from walking away. He stared Rhys in the eyes, doing something he felt Rhysand had never done to prove a point. "I'd rather go home with you, so if you were planning on winnowing, we might as well go together." He picked you.

They watched as all tension left your body, as security eased into your face. "Then let's go home." Azriel grabbed the leathers, nodding to Rhys and Cassian before following you.

Azriel's elbow locked around your neck, hand squeezing your hip as he pinned you below him and continued taking you from behind. You both had no interest in heading to Hewn City, so you had distracted him, walking into your shared bedroom in just a pretty blue silk night gown offering to give your body to him for what he had done, the message he had sent.

You were supposed to be getting ready, but instead, Azriel was growling above you, pumping into you carelessly. Your toes curled at how deep he was hitting, at how good he felt, how good he felt every time. "So close," you whispered. "So fucking close-" You were moaning his name when the knock on the door came.

A shadow rushed to him, curling his ear as he paused. "It's Elain," he muttered. "She's relentless." You whined below him, hips wiggling to get friction back. "Baby,"

"Please," you begged. "It's been weeks, I've been so good, please, daddy."

Azriel felt his cock twitch at the use of the name. He'd longed for a moment to erase the memory of what happened, and you had just given it to him. He felt you moving your hips, doing the best you could while pinned to the mattress to fuck yourself on his cock.

You were his focus, the rest of the world melting away as he heard your moans turning into screams of his name. You sounded so pretty coming for him, crying for him, begging for more for less for everything as oversensitivity took over. You especially looked pretty dripping his seed when he pulled out of you. Once again, he had chosen you.

You two laid there, holding each other until claws came for both of you. Scratching angerly as your mental shields and causing you to bury your head into Azriel's chest. "We need to get ready unless you want him showing up here next," Azriel played with your hair, scratching your scalp lightly. "Let's see how many siphons I blow through."

After 2 sets of siphons being destroyed, you were currently dragging Azriel down the streets of Velaris and to your brother and father's tailor. You knew she'd be able to fit and dress him in seconds and that he'd look every bit handsome as he deserved. You were pissed when you saw he had been gifted Illyrian leathers and not a suit. Your father was out of touch with Azriel. With you.

"Helena," you smiled at the older female. "We need help."

Azriel felt stiff. Staring at the doors of Heen City as a shocked page boy ran to inform Rhys and Feyre of the late arrival. You two were about to upstage them in their own court. The guests of honor arriving late and being introduced after the Lord and his Lady.

You would have upstaged them by yourself anyway, though. Azriel admired you one more time. Rhys had picked well, though you both would never admit it. The dress had a see-through bodice of black lace and floral applicates with thin straps. It led to a satin skirt that was tight and then flared out to your hips. The left leg had a high slit, showing the toned beautiful skin Azriel was begging to cover in his kisses. You had picked a simple necklace, a single tear drop shaped sapphire with matching earring and a matching bracelet. Your ring sat on manicured nails painted a soft shade of pink to white coffin head tips. Heels graced your feet, the red underside flashing when you walked. "Gods, you are stunning," he finally whispered out in a hoarse voice.

"And all yours," you looked at him, adjusting the lapel of his jacket. "Forever." Your mask slipped on as the doors opened, a collective gasp ringing through the room over who was on your arm followed by whispers.

Azriel knew this song and dance, walking you into one thousand eyes staring and gawking. He hated seeing you like this as you were ushered to the dance floor. The first dance of the night had been delayed, and the fae were restless.

Once you were centered on the floor, you turned facing him, eyes cold and distant as you disassociated from this place. He placed a hand on your hip, leaving his other to his side where both of your sat.

It was unfair of Feyre and Rhysand to expect you to do this traditional waltz, but you followed Azriel's steps as the music began, that first note echoing in your bones and soul. Your parents had claimed your first dance with your mate. The first true dance you two would ever share, and it had to be done in front of hundreds of fae who spat your direction when the Lord and Lady were busy.

Azriel had decided he hated this side of you. He was studying you like a project. You were a different female down here. Cold, uncaring, forced into this role of the High Lord's daughter.

Did these fae know you took far too much creamer in your coffee?

That you were afraid of storms?

That you only ate fruit pastries because you found chocolate too bitter?

You were Rhysand through and through with that mask on. But inside, inside Azriel knew you carried the very light of what your grandfather built. You were a true dreamer, and you could rattle the very stars themselves if your father would just give you the chance.

If Rhysand would just believe in you.

Azriel decided in that moment what the answer to your happiness was. He'd take you tonight and you two would leave.

Fuck expectations.

Fuck the rules.

Fuck your family.

Azriel would pick you for the third time today, and you two would leave.

He just had to get you through this visit at Hewn City first, and as he watched Elain shatter a champagne flute in her hands, he knew that was going to be a mission all on its own.

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writingforatwistedworld · 6 months

Text

Self-aware au

Written before the English release!

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, Jp-version spoiler(!!!), death, description of war, unhealthy mindset, religion, obsessive themes, unhealthy family dynamics

General! Lilia Vanrouge/(Platonic) Maleanor Draconia/(Platonic) Knight of Dawn-Yandere headcanons

Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce? Lilia Vanrouge 1.0. The more cold, hard and ready to behead the next human version of the usual Lilia (also known as the Lilia Vanrouge 2.0 model)

Lilia back then was “rough” and I am being nice calling him that

Back then, Lilia was surrounded by loss and a lot of Faes getting everything they ever owned ripped away from them

Of course this impacts him (I mean he is strolling through battlefield after battlefield so of course it does)

Lilia wasn't always such a devoted follower

Yes, he did believe in the Overseer, aka you, but only after witnessing the brutality that came with him being a general did he turn into a follower with such drastic views

After all, if there was no higher meaning to all this violence, to all this loss and despair, what was even the point of it all?

You became his moral, mental and also a bit of a physical crutch for him

Whenever he felt like he was this close to just giving up, he thought about you and that this was part of your greater plan (totally not part of some valley church propaganda)

After witnessing that human hiding behind the Knight of Dawn in all his haughtiness and cruelty, he finally set out on his quest not only to make the humans leave his beloved home but also to make them into loyal believers of the Overseer

But sadly, everything was for nought and Lilia had to go into hiding

The only thing keeping him going was his believe in you having a greater plan

A few hundred years later and Lilia finally found out what that supposed plan of yours was

Laying in that cold, lonely crib was the child of his old, now deceased enemy

Taking the child, now called Silver, in he learned the joy of a family, the boy giving him more joy than anything ever before in his life

Finally, he had found peace. Of course he did. This was your plan all along, right? You must have ordered those three fairies to make his beloved son survive until now, right?

You were, after all, a kind deity. There was no way this was all just a war happening because of greed. Because if this truly was just events happening after events then...

Lilia never finished that thought

The great ruler of the night fae, mighty and powerful sorceress who could fell an entire nation in one swoop if she wanted to was despite her cruel and aloof outside appearance a pretty devoted follower since the beginning

Despite being a Fae, she was feared just like her unborn son due to her powers (and being more or less being on the same level as a nuclear bomb but hey, I doubt that anyone of us would stand next to one of those, right?)

So it is no surprise that she turned to something, someone, to feel less alone

Especially after her husband disappeared did she wish for some sort of sign that she was not alone

And oh boy, did religious propaganda from the high church take that loneliness away

When her beloved son, although in an egg, was born, she visited your altar daily, thanking you for her child being healthy

(This could also be the reason why Malleus is the way he is but I am just a writer and not some all-knowing God so idk, just a theory)

She definitely has "taken care" *cough*totallynotproblematicforarulertobeinfluencedbyreligion*cough* of Fae that were non-believers

How dare their sinful ways dirty your holy image?

See? Totally not problematic

At first she only tried to protect her subjects after the humans attacked and took over parts of her kingdom

But after a while she started to have another goal

What if she shared your splendor with those little useless invaders?

Humans were most definitely vile but you were able to unite so many different kinds of Fae in your name under the Draconia name

So why not also unite those humans in your name in a peace treaty?

Such a kind God you were! Allowing for peace in your name!

And, well, if violence and destruction was needed to make those beings understand and surrender, then that shall be what they get

Besides, she was only honoring her husbands wish to get closer to the humans so who was she to selfishly aim for another goal?

The Knight of Dawn (long name, I know) did not always believe in you

Heck, the poor guy probably never heard of you until he fought the Fae

But if the humans from back then didn't really know about you, then how did he find out about and why did he start to see you as his God?

On this part, I would say, he and Lilia were eerily similair

Both were pushed into a war neither liked, so of course he was also in a very unstable situation which made him, like Lilia, search for something to hold on to

The three Fairies had mentioned before when he was still training to become as strong as he was now, mentioning a kind deity who accepted all, who loved unconditionally

Back then he only thought of you as one of the many deities that were prayed to back then

But once the war started and he saw your churches and cathedrals for the first time, his opinion slowly started to shift until he saw you as the highest being possible

I mean, all of us would if we lost all stability over night, having only destroyed buildings and a half-standing church in front of us

He hated the plundering of your sacred placed even before he became a believer, having the opinion that it was just a cultural difference between the two kinds

This led to him kneeling at the cracked altars of many of your churches, asking for forgiveness, hoping that you would understand that he didn't have another choice

What he would do to witness one of your sermons…

And when he was lonely enough, he imagined you watching down on him from up above

Just like a... a parent

You see where I am going with this?

So when he was facing the Queen he only hoped for your forgiveness, hoping that his loving family member would forgive his gravest sin, him killing a mother

And he found salvation, in letting that child and the retainer escape

Perhaps you could forgive him now

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bones4thecats · 5 months

Text

Diasomnia with their Fae! Knight! S/O

Type of Writing: Poll Result Characters: Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver, and Sebek Zigvolt Name: Diasomnia with their Fae! Knight! S/O Original Poll Link: Here

A/N: I'm sorry that this took a while to post, I just finished with a larger thing with my family, so. But, anyways, I do hope you all enjoy this, and look out, on Sunday, January 7th, 2024, requests will open for an hour. I'll put out an announcement when it happens! Enjoy, my lil bubbles🫧

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🐉 Okay, the entirety of Diasomnia is shocked

🐉 You were the personal guard of Malleus', being sent everywhere he went, and because of this situation pushed upon you both, conversations were the only thing keeping the atmosphere from fogging up with awkwardness

🐉 Malleus asked you about your home life, so hearing how you descended from a army-covered family of faes, he just smiled and chuckled as you told stories on how strong, yet dumb they were

🐉 He loves to watch you spar with Silver and Sebek, trying to help Lilia teach them, though, since you weren't used to being delicate when fighting, you nearly always ended up on the ground apologizing as you tried healing a small bruise of cut you gave them

🐉 Both you and Malleus have an understanding because of your roles, do not let your feelings overwhelm your jobs, since that could result in people using you against each other, seeing weakness

🐉 You definitely have had to deal with Leona, so while he tried threatening Malleus one day, you grabbed your sword and held it to his throat, making him stiffen and the rest of the group freeze with awkward facial expressions

🐉 You may be rough around the edges, but Malleus likes that about you, and if someone tried harming you, he'd have their heads, and you'd do the same for him, no doubt

🦇 He and you served together during the Human vs Fae war long ago

🦇 You were one of the higher-ranked army members during battle, and you two were known as the 'Blood-Bathers', but, despite how the humans you slayed viewed you both, you cared for one another with a ton of passion

🦇 When Lilia found Malleus' egg, you helped him raise the future-ruler, from helping him control his magic, to helping him gain information on fighting and the outside world, you were there just as much as Lilia was

🦇 Lilia also watched as you laughed when Malleus burned his bangs, just staring at you with a face frozen in betrayal and shock before tackling you and messing up your hair as Malleus laughed

🦇 You may be a knight, but you had just as much of a sense of humor as your husband, from dad-jokes to puns, you both slayed people with them

🦇 Your husband loves to watch you get along with Silver, treating him like your own despite you both knowing he wasn't, and watching you train with him made Lilia feel like his whole life and the reason he survived everything from his past was just to be here, watching you and his family grow

🦇 Lilia also loves to spar with you himself, and watching the three boy's faces all erupt with sparkles and admiration to the two of you, watching as you battled, it was like you were in a dance, flowing together like the soulmates you were

⚔️ Silver met you because of your chosen occupations, being a knight

⚔️ He loves to train with you, watching you hold your sword in your hands was amazing to him, and seeing how you flowed with the weapon like you were one was amazing to him

⚔️ This guy absolutely refuses to give up on your relationship, despite knowing you were going to outlive him, since he was a human with a limited lifespan, while you were a fae with a limitless one

⚔️ Many see you guys as the sleepy soulmates, as after doing literally anything, you guys would rest underneath a tree with animals surrounding you

⚔️ You are a very good fighter, one that even puts Lilia in the need for effort when sparring, and your boyfriend loves seeing how his adoptive father smiles and pats your head with such care when your able to knock him off his feet

⚔️ Silver will try staying up and watch you help train new first years with their magic, but, unsurprisingly, he falls asleep, prompting you to carry him like a princess back to your dorm-rooms

⚔️ Being a knight, you wake up early, and since your lovely boyfriend here has many sleeping issues, he pins you down and makes you sleep longer than normal

⚔️ Malleus, Lilia, and Sebek all love watching Silver hug you from behind and rest while you glare at those who call him pathetic and a disgrace to the dorm for being human, you really were meant for him, huh?

⚡ Sebek was nervous when he first met you

⚡ You were a very well-respected knight within Briar Valley's army, so, being a trainee and you being quite popular among your peers, it made him feel lesser, and he hates that

⚡ He watched as you stood beside Malleus, sending threatening glares to others who dared try harming him, verbally or physically

⚡ Unlike Sebek, you did not express your emotions as passionately, and, funnily enough, that was what got you interested in him, as not many of your fellow knights knew how to express themselves very well

⚡ He gets flustered every time you pinned him down, as you smirked and would tease him with your fangs showing

⚡ You teased others like Lilia, but, you only showed your real emotions to those you cared for, and for Sebek, you showed everything you felt to him

⚡ For some reason, every time he watches you grit your teeth with your fangs showing, he feels ashamed of himself, since he was a half-human, half-fae, while you were a pureblood

⚡ Due to this, you comfort him when he feels weaker than others. He may be a half-blood, but, as you tell him

" I love you for you, not for your percentage of fae-blood. You are an amazing being, loud, but amazing... and I love you for that, Sebek. "

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azsazz · 5 months

Text

Equinox

Kinktober Day 29: Eris x Reader [Throne Sex]

Summary: Anon Req: Ooo what about eris x reader public sex on his throne?

Warnings: Smut, oral (m receiving), dom x sub dynamics, exhibitionism, (mentioned voyeurism)

Word Count: 2,510

_________________________________________

Eris is thoughtful with his steps, as if he knows you’ve struggled all night in the tight, tall heels making your feet ache. You clutch the skirts of your elegant emerald dress, head turned towards the ground as you watch your steps, trying not to trip. You look nothing as Eris does, with his learned grace, gliding up the stairs how only one from a royal family would. Your cheeks burn hot with a blush, humiliated already at the fact that someone with a status just above farmhand would be his chosen for the night.

You can feel the eyes staring holes into your back. Jack—who escorted you on your fathers behalf—watches from his spot on the outskirts of the room, copper chalice brimmed with hearty wine clutched tightly in his fist. If he were a higher fae, he’d be burning this place to the fucking ground.

Peeking through the curtain of your hair, you note that Eris’ brothers have already started in on the fun. Pyrolas sits on his throne, females perched on the arm of each chair. There’s a male on the floor between his knees, and you can hear him begging the Autumn heir to unleash his cock from his trousers.

One Eris’ other side is Conleth. Third born, he’s the most docile of the group. You’ve heard him to be wicked with his fingers, drawing the string of his bow with such precision he could kill from a mile away. Even he seems to be participating in the equinox traditions, though the flush to his cheeks and gleam to his auburn gaze tells you that he’d needed the liquid courage to be knuckle deep in the naked male he has grinding on his lap. Lucky for him and his brothers, Beron has retired for the night, and they can claim whom they please.

A throne down from Conleth is Oakland. Ever the strategist like his oldest brother, he’s still scouring the crowd, searching for the perfect person to spend the evening with. He sits tall in his chair, body rigid, but not with confidence. You can see right through his façade. He’s nearly trembling with nerves, you can see it in the way his fingers are curled around the arms of his chair.

His eyes meet yours and you flinch. You’re not used to meeting any of their fiery gazes, let alone more than one.

Finally at the top of the dais, Eris turns, sitting down in his seat. The way that he’s able to look down at you despite being taller than him makes a shiver wrack your spine, and the corner of his mouth tilts upwards.

His fingers are still intertwined with yours, and he gives them a gentle sway, trying to gain your attention although he already has it, has had it since you’d stepped into the room for the Autumnal Equinox.

“On your knees, fawn.” His tone is rough, tightening the collar of your dress. Fires rage high in hearths, almost licking the rich curtains draping from ceiling to floor. The room isn’t stifling because of that, though, but because of the magic in the air, the powers of the Autumn Equinox in full effect throughout the Court’s lands.

You can feel that heat between your legs, wetting your panties. Your skin itches with the need to be touched, to be claimed. Rapt music glides through the air, sensual and alluring. The sounds of gasps and moans of pleasure fill the air as others join in, and your eyes flutter at the sound. Eris’ russet gaze licks down your body in a wave of warmth, and you follow it, dropping between the split of his toned thighs, coming face to face with his cock, straining against navy trousers.

You twist your fingers nervously, a lump in your throat. You want this, want to give yourself over to the Autumn Gods on this festive night, want Eris to splay you out and take you for his own, worshiping each other like those very Gods did while they’d walked this continent. You want to worship them as the fae still do now, with bodies and souls, intertwined, half him, half you for the perfectly half light, half night of the day. The most perfect day of the year.

Eris brushes his fingers down your soft cheek, admiring you. His touch sends you reeling, the rest of the room disappearing as his skin brushes yours. His thumb slides across your mouth and you can’t help but to part your lips, flicking your tongue out to taste him.

His russet eyes flare at the sight. He undoes his belt with one hand, pulling at the ties. With his other hand, he dips two fingers into your mouth. You suck greedily, releasing a whimper at his taste that chokes off as he presses his fingers further. He shoves his pants down his legs and his cock springs up, all flushed and ruddy at the head. You clench your fingers in your skirts, saliva pooling in your mouth as he jerks himself once, twice. Spit drips from the sides of your mouth around his fingers, making a mess already.

“Like what you see?” Eris asks, knowing full well that you can’t respond with words. Not with his fingers caressing the inside of your throat. You nod, jostling his digits in your throat, your esophagus constricting as you try to swallow. “Want to taste?”

Your eyes roll into the back of your skull at his words, moan mixing with one of the fae occupying his brother’s throne beside you. You don’t dare look anywhere but at your closed lids or at Eris, nothing can draw your attention away from him.

His fingers fall from your mouth to cradle your head with a large hand. You lick your lips and he follows the motion of your tongue, giving himself a rough jerk, grunting at the feeling. When he looks at you like this you don’t care that he doesn’t know your name, that he’s calling you fawn, or that people are watching. Not his brothers, not your escort, not any of the males or females falling on their knees, pleading for a chance with one of the Autumn Princes.

Eris guides your face closer to his cock and it’s now you see the pearlescent beads of precum at his slit. You want to collect those drops like the precious pearls they are, roll them around on your tongue, burn them into your memory for centuries to come.

You part your lips, hot breath ghosting over his silken skin. The muscles of his abdomen flex, and when you flick your gaze up to meet his, he’s a goner.

“Open your mouth for me, fawn. Need to see that tongue.”

Pressing the rest of the way forward, you find the confidence to take his cock in your own grip, swatting his hand away so you can stroke him and lift him to your lips. Brushing across his slip with a groan, his flavor bursts on your tongue. He’s entirely autumn, tasting of the musk of the earth, smoky wood and crisp breezes. You vow to yourself that this will not be the last time you taste him, he’s utterly addicting.

Eris chokes at the sight of you, drooling over the hard lines of his cock, licking, kissing, sucking your way around the sensitive skin. He hisses through his teeth, guiding you where he likes, shoving you down to lap at his balls. You follow obediently, showing him just how good you can be.

After giving him a thorough lick, Eris growls, having had enough of your errant teasing. By a fist of your hair, he’s allowing you to slide your lips down his cock, taking him in full. When he hits the back of your throat you gag, but he loves it, pressing you down further until you can’t breathe, his girth stretching your throat.

It feels like a fire burning in your windpipe, stifling and hot. He jerks his hips, using his hand in your hair to guide you up and down on his cock. It makes tears prick your eyes, your cheeks flushed hot. Your nails dig into the skin of his thighs but it only spurs him on, loud moans echoing off of the walls of the ballroom.

“Fuck, fawn,” he pants, stare pinned to how you’re taking over, moving against him now, suckling his cock greedily. You’re a sight to see like this, covered in spit, cheeks stuffed full of his cock. “You feel fucking amazing.”

You moan in response to him, losing yourself in the throes of his cock in your mouth. You try to suck any noise that you can from him, enjoying the way they’re for your ears only, despite the lewd sounds accompanying the deep, heady music.

With a hiss, Eris pulls you from his cock. You’re panting, brows furrowing sadly from the loss but Eris is caressing your cheeks with both hands again, thumbs sliding through the wetness around your mouth, cooing softly.

“You did so well for me, fawn. I bet you’re so wet, gushing for me, aren’t you?” He asks, and you whine because yes, your thighs are pressed so tightly together they’re trembling, and none of it is stimulating your crying clit, either.

“Yes,” you plead, gripping his wrists, eyes wide. “So wet for you, prince.”

If he’s not going to call you by your name, you won’t call him by his either.

Doesn’t seem to matter to Eris, though, because he’s shuddering and tugging you from the floor to your feet, spinning you around so his pale, freckled ass is to your audience, your hands planted on the arms of his chair as he bends you over.

Your breath catches in your throat as he nudges his hips against yours, cock pressing into the soft fabric of your dress. You can feel his length against your hind, shivering as his fingers find the ties of your dress. His torso is pressed tight to your back and his breath is hot in your ear as his teeth graze your cheek.

“Do you want me to bend you over my throne, little fawn, or would you like to ride my cock?”

It’s surprising that he’s giving you the choice, a prince so often used to his demands being listened to. This…you…you are different though. The surge of fire within him is not that of lust. It’s a slow roiling of hot coals, compact with heat. They stir, embers flaring at the sight of your exposed skin while he slips your dress further and further down your back, exposing your creamy skin.

Your body is squeezed tight; eyes shut at the feeling of his fiery touch licking down your spine, your thighs clenched, cunt dripping and aching with need. Your muscles are constricted, body shaking with anticipation. Your mind whirls, trying to make sense of his words.

“Cock,” you gasp as he palms over your newly exposed breasts. The bite of the ballroom hardens your nipples, but the warmth of Eris’ fingers soothes them. You shudder with pleasure, arching into his chest at your back. “Want to sit on your cock, prince.”

His cock jumps at your use of his title. He growls deeply, nipping at your ear. Your whimper carries on an autumn breeze, down the line of thrones to Pyrolas, who uses his minute wind magic to listen in. Eris’ eye blaze brightly as he shoots his younger brother a searing glare. Pyrolas’ powers had come in handy often when they were young and listened in on conversations they shouldn’t have been, but now that the second born knows how to use them to his advantage, Eris is more careful than not when he speaks.

But he will not be sharing you, despite the fact that the room is crowded with courtiers and patrons under their rule.

He will show them all who you belong to.

“I was hoping you’d say that, little fawn,” he murmurs, lips hot against your throat. Eris stands and you shiver at the loss of his warmth, straightening and spinning around on your heel, chasing him. He’s only stepped away to undress, fingers quickly maneuvering the buttons of his shirt open. It slides from his broad, freckle smattered shoulders like butter.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. Eris kicks away the rest of his trousers, allowing you to get your fill. Rippling muscles line his body. He’s cut and hard like his bobbing cock, waiting so prettily for you.

He sits on his throne, one leg straight out, looking ever like the arrogant prince he’s supposed to be. His smirk only adds to his front, and he offers you a hand.

Taking it, you allow Eris to help you, parting your thighs across each of his muscular ones.

He takes himself in his hand, jerking once before he’s sliding his hot tip against your folds. You gasp, shuddering at the feeling, hips circling softly, following his cock like a magnet. Eris’ smirk turns wolfish as you chase, allowing you to sink down on his girth.

“Fuck,” he hisses, because the wetness of your cunt feels too damn good. “Trying to stifle my flames, fawn?”

You can hardly even reply, fingers curling into the meat of his shoulders as you rise. There is no taking things slow. The bite of his cock stretching your walls feels too good, the sensual music combined with the moans floating through the air and the grunts Eris makes is euphoric, the feeling of him penetrating you, cock so lengthy it hits your womb everytime you sink down. Everything feels like fire in your bones, your heart, your blood.

You’re hot all over, messy between your thighs, but Eris seems to be enjoying himself, watching hungrily as your head rolls back on your shoulders with pleasure. When he can no longer control himself, his fingers are pressing into your thighs harshly, guiding your body faster, up and down and up and down. He leans forward, lips suctioning to the skin of your throat because it’s exposed and he’s hungry, his fires need kindling to burn brighter.

The drapes on the walls set alight as his pleasure crests. The air becomes scolding and you can hardly breathe. His touch burns your body in the best way. He’s hitting that bundle of nerves inside of you with each thrust he makes, and you don’t even know when you stopped bouncing for him, allowing him to hold you steady and buck his hips like a desperate male.

Your body courses with heat and you cum with a cry, collapsing into him. Eris fucks you through it, your pleasure spaking his own. He follows you with a heady groan, teeth gnashing at your skin. The press of his hold, the graze of his teeth feel as though he’s trying to brand you with every part of his body pressed to yours. His hot cum between your legs sears, marking you.

Claiming you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Kinktober Taglist:@bunnymallowo@jeannineee@icey–stars@hannzoaks@harrystylesfan2686@azriels-shadowsinger @alysena2 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @impossibelle @glitterypirateduck @reading-moongirl

#eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azsazz kinktober 2023 #eris smut

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florencemtrash · 18 days

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-One

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Character death and canon typical violence/graphic descriptions.

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It was the sound and smell that really got to you. The crackle of bones snapping and the stretching of skin and the slick squelch of new flesh as it grew into place. The scent of burning curtains and couch stuffing and meat so thick in the air Emerie could only lean over and vomit into the fireplace.

Through the smoke and the haze you saw barbs sprout from Vassa’s skin like needles before splitting down the middle to reveal sickly red feathers. Putrid flowers crawling their way through the dirt.

She fell to the ground, convulsing with pain and anguish as she transformed.

“VASSA!” Lucien roared. He threw his arm over his face, magic bursting forth in a protective shield around you and Azriel. His russet eyes reflected the flames that licked at his skin and hair, fighting and absorbing the power that flashed throughout the room.

From the corner of your eye you saw Feyre use her own spark of Autumn’s magic. The flames took on the shape of wolves and threw themselves over Mor, Gwyn, Emerie, and Elain in a protective huddle.

Vassa’s screams thinned out into one long screech and the beating of her wings sent another wave of heat through the room.

Azriel pressed you further against the ground as she took off, flying so close overhead that the sweat frying your skin evaporated and the tips of Azriel’s hair singed off.

Cassian swore, drawing out the short sword he always kept on him as he shielded Ione’s body from the worst of the initial blast, wings out and glaring siphon red in the shape of shield.

Vassa sank her claws into his back, latching onto leather armour and ripping him off the old woman. Her wings took up the length of the room, trailing ribbons of blue and scarlet fire as she finally descended on her prize.

Ione was no stranger to death. She did not fear it as some might have expected her to. She’d seen friends and family ruthlessly murdered. Experienced loss of a kind that the fae could not comprehend with their long lives. Maybe that was the reason she fought so little when Vassa’s talons closed over her arms and lifted her into the air.

Rhysand roared, night triumphant rumbling over the floors like an earthquake as darkness spilled from his hands.

But he was too late.

Vassa crashed through the window with Ione in tow. Glass and fragments of the supporting wall crumbled down in a chorus of cries that tore through your spine as shadows swarmed overhead. Reaching, reaching, reaching after the firebird and the woman she carried higher and higher up into the sky.

Cassian rolled to his feet, leaping after them with a furious beat of his wings that sent shards of glass skittering over the floor and dust flying into your eyes.

Azriel scrambled to his feet, hauling you up with him. You dragged your nails over his arms, blinking through smoke-filled eyes as you coughed.

All around you the House was burning.

“Are you ok?!” He shook you, hands coming up to your face. He was split between two choices — stay with you, or go get Ione.

“Go. Go! I’m fine,” you rasped, lifting your sleeve up to your nose and mouth as your eyes streamed with tears. Azriel hesitated, hearing your hacking coughs even as you pushed him towards the gaping wound of the House. Cassian continued to shrink into the distance, red light searing past Vassa’s feathers as she desperately dodged his attacks.

He wouldn’t go for a killing blow. Not when she was carrying such precious cargo.

“Just go! If Koschei gets his hands on Ione, we’re all dead!” You erupted in another fit of coughs.

Fuck.

“Stay with Lucien,” Azriel said.

“Yes, yes. Now go!” You gave him one final shove.

Azriel swore beneath his breath, turned, and raced towards the window with his wings ready to unfurl before disappearing in a flurry of smoke.

Misunderstanding — that was what made Shadowsingers so dangerous. Not their silence. Not the tendrils of darkness they commanded, but how little anyone knew of them and where they came from.

Illyrians, by nature, couldn’t winnow. It was one of the simple, unexplainable facts of their world. As immutable as gravity. As intrinsic as the magic that flowed through their land like a bottomless sea. And despite all the rules Azriel had broken, and would break, in his life — all the contradictions he flirted with like it was a game — he was, first and foremost, an Illyrian.

He did not winnow.

Winnowing was simple.

Winnowing happened when you folded the fabric of the world in half like a piece of paper and stretched that fabric thin enough to pass through. It was instantaneous. One moment you had both feet planted in one place, the next moment in another.

What Azriel did was wholly different.

Because when he “winnowed,” he actually went somewhere else first.

When he was running away from you, he was moving towards an opening only he could see. A black, flickering spot that grew and grew and grew until it swallowed him whole and he felt himself fall into a different realm.

The sounds of shouting and feet trampling over glass disappeared with a whisper and he dove into the silence, feeling shadows slip over him like water.

When he’d first shadow-traveled, it had been an accident. He’d been young and desperate to escape the cramped confines of his bed in the Windhaven barracks. He would never miss his time spent in the cellar, but at least there it had been quiet. At least there he could commune with his shadows in private. Accommodations in the Windhaven barracks were a poor imitation of horse stables — tiny bedrooms lined up with just enough space for growing wings and walls that didn’t reach the ceiling. Boys would peer over the walls at him like an animal on display, throwing food and boasting their strong wings while his lay on the floor like crumpled paper.

To this day he didn’t quite know where he went when he shadow-traveled. All he knew was that in this world of black sand, cracked rock, and perpetual music, beings roamed free that answered to him and only him. Creatures both same and different to the shadows he commanded in Prythian. They crowded around him, welcoming him home and blocking out the background hums of someone’s sweet singing as the light of three moons cast their silvery net over the Shadowsinger.

The plan is working.

Why have you left her behind?

The firebird is nearing the edges of your borders.

Your mate is safe. She remains by her brother’s side.

He listened to their reports, gliding through the still air and watching as a familiar light opened up ahead of him. A fourth moon that wasn’t a moon at all, but a light back home. Through the opening he saw a blue sky raked with fire as Vassa turned onto her back, careening through the air like a firework and opening her mouth wide.

She’s endowed with new powers. Be cautious, Shadowsinger.

Your brother is on your left.

What had felt like minutes flying through this darkness vanished into nothing. The time he’d spent in this realm never passed on Prythian. To anyone watching him, they’d think he disappeared from the House and reappeared here, hundreds of feet above the earth.

But things were better this way. When he traveled with his shadows, he had time to gather his thoughts and anticipate the fight ahead.

Quick! Get the warlord.

And he had help.

NOW!

Azriel shattered the boundaries of the world in an explosion of shadow, careening into Cassian’s side and knocking him off course just as Vassa spit out a ball of flame. Azriel heard Cassian’s shout in his ear as they tumbled through the air together in a tangle of wings. He felt the heat that had come close to scorching his back.

I am not that little boy. Not anymore. Azriel promised himself

The warlord grasped the harness hidden in the back of Azriel’s armor just between the shoulder blades, using the momentum of their fall to throw him back towards Vassa.

The Sidra glowed beneath him, the mouth of the river stretching wide as it prepared to feed the sea. Another mile, and the protections surrounding Velaris would fall away. Who knew what would happen to Ione and Vassa then?

Azriel saw the distance between them narrow. Vassa’s body could only be propped up by so much magic. Feathers continued to strip themselves from her body, curling inwards as they fell like paper left too close to a flame.

Ione flailed in Vassa’s clutches, iron cane still held tightly in her hand as she twisted and turned at the mercy of Vassa’s frantic flight maneuvers.

The firebird squawked in panic when she felt the first cold licks of Azriel’s shadows creep up her wings. They hissed and smarted upon first contact with her fiery feathers, before eating away at her magic like ravenous beasts.

But she also understood hunger. It was hunger that had driven her to take Ione. It was hunger that had forced her to turn. Hunger for the kind of magic that only Koschei could grant her when she was back in his malignant embrace.

To Azriel’s horror, Vassa twisted in the air and flung Ione down with a shriek.

The old woman’s face twisted in shock, her scream choked by wind as her stomach flew into her throat and the burning pressure in her arms gave way to freefall.

Azriel didn’t hesitate. He dove down, reaching out with two scarred hands.

For one brief moment they were falling together.

Ione saw the firebird change direction and aim right at Azriel, slipping into the blindspots of his vision. Ione looked him dead in the eye and gave the faintest nod.

Azriel tucked his wings in close and veered off course at the last second, rolling with the impact of Vassa’s wing slamming into his side and feeling the burn when his leathers caught fire.

Somewhere in the wind, Cassian roared.

Vassa caught Ione and fled beyond the borders of Velaris.

And Azriel fell.

And fell.

A comet.

And disappeared into the ocean.

Feyre stood in the center of the House, hands raised and eyes alight as fires leapt up the walls and swallowed the curtains. With one fell swoosh they vanished, wind rushing in through the battered side of the House and sweeping away the ash and smoke until the air tasted clean again.

She raised a trembling hand and with one decisive snap of her fingers the worst of the damage vanished, leaving behind the skeletal remains of their once lovely living room.

“Mor.” The High Lady rasped.

The blonde female stood to attention, cheeks stained grey, and brown eyes flaring with rage. People liked to think she was just a pretty face — a diplomat or a soothing presence. But right now, she was out for blood and she could smell it coming in the air.

“Go tell Helion and the others. We meet at Thesan’s as planned.”

Mor nodded and grabbed Emerie’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze as the Illyrian shook off the worst of her sickness. Her stomach, now empty, twisted. Mor kissed Emerie’s dark hair, whispering promises that they’d see each other again soon. Then it was only a matter of folding the universe in half and stepping into Helion’s palace to the sight of two dozen golden warriors.

Emerie blinked and her wife was gone.

Rhys stood by the staircase with Gwyn, touching the crown of her head and showing her his most treasured prize. Beneath the fabric of her priestess robes, a new bargain tattoo was being written onto the skin of her ribs. Until their parents’ safe return, Gwyn would protect Nyx and Velaria with her life. No force, natural or otherwise, would keep her from her goal, and those that sought to harm her charges would meet their end on her blade.

In the privacy of her room she donned the armour of the Valkyries and knelt down at the small altar carved into the wall. She touched the smooth white stone at the center and prayed to the Mother for strength and protection and health. She lit a red candle and dripped the wax onto the blade of her sword and polished it clean, reciting her prayers beneath her breath.

What seeks to break me will fail. I am a protector. I have always been a protector. And that is what I will always be. It is written in my blood and in my bones, but where I was strong in my spirit, I am now strong in my body.

She stood with her sword in her hands.

I am the rock against which the surf crashes.

Tucked away in a cabin in the Illyrian Steppes, Nyx stood in front of his wooden soldier, practice sword clutched in his hand as he danced around the immobile warrior with a crease in his brow identical to Feyre’s. Every so often he would look over his shoulder at the female sitting on the floor, searching her silver eyes for that hint of pride she hid so well.

Velaria lay in the crook of her arm, soft fingers tangled in the layers of gold and jewels that hung heavy from her slim, straight neck. Her eyes narrowed as she saw beyond the confines of the cabin into Rhysand’s mind.

It’s happened hasn’t it? She asked knowingly.

Yes.

And which one will you be sending to the children and I, boy?

Gwyn.

A good choice. I like that one.

Rhysand smiled tightly, feeling that knot in his chest loosen. No matter what happened, his children would be protected. They’d survive.

As if sensing what the High Lord needed, Amren looked down at the child swaddled in her arms, allowing Rhysand the relief of seeing his children even if he couldn’t be there to hold them himself.

Nyx, ever the precocious child, stopped his play-fighting and looked towards his aunt.

He was still young but greatness hovered over his shoulder like a vulture ready to descend upon his innocence the moment he came of age. It frightened Rhysand to no end.

Please, keep them safe.

Amren’s mind flickered with something like indignation and she clutched Velaria closer to her chest. It wasn’t maternal instinct that drove her, but something else. Something more feral and possessive.

I have protected you and your family for centuries. I have killed for you and I died for you when I had far more to lose than just this mortal body. Do you truly believe I will fail you now?

No, Amren. No I do not.

You raced up the steps after Lucien, smoke settling into your lungs as you wheezed and tried keeping up with his long, frantic strides. Vassa’s bloody footprints and a trail of burnt blue-orange feathers marked her descent.

“JURIAN!”

Lucien called his friend’s name the whole way up, praying to the gods that he’d hear a response. The air cleared the higher you went through the House until finally you stood at the base of the attic steps.

The door stared down from above. Neatly closed. Unassuming. Vassa had shut it calmly before walking down. Or maybe she just couldn’t bear to look at the scene she’d left behind.

Lucien burst through the silent, unblinking door and stopped dead in his tracks.

The first thing you saw from around his shoulder was the mangled remnants of the birdcage. Its side had been ripped open like ribs, cushion stuffing and blanket fragments spewing out. Claw marks decorated the walls and you detected the cling of iron in the air through your burning nostrils.

“Lucien?” Your voice shook.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t move past the edges of the room.

When you went to move around his frame, he gripped your arm and covered the way.

Jurian’s body lay sprawled on the floor, blood pooling in a neat circle around him like he’d been blotted out with a red pen. His right arm was in tatters and three long gashes split him from the temple to his hip. His pearly white winked cruelly. The hazy afternoon sun settled on the dust in the air.

He must have gotten too close to Vassa not realizing that she was too far gone for even him to help. Maybe she’d done it intentionally as a means of escape, thinking that Jurian was her jailor. But maybe it had all been an accident. The wrong turn of her talons as the pain of her transformation took over.

The method did not matter. Nor did the reason.

Because Jurian was dead.

Lucien crumbled to his knees, sinking into the carpet and feeling nothing and you…

It took everything within you not to scream. You pressed down on the feeling. Down. Down. Down. Burying it deep beneath layers of willpower and practice.

You walked over to the windows, feeling hatred at the sun for shining down with its yellow light, and ripped the curtains off their rings with a metallic clang.

Jurian looked up at the ceiling with glistening eyes. Somehow, even in death, there was the faintest hint of a smile on his face — proud, mischievous, and a little wild. A sign of the charismatic general he’d been by Vassa’s side and long before then. You covered that smile carefully, ignoring the squelch of your shoes when you stepped into the circle of blood.

Something in Lucien cracked open when the curtain fell into place.

He finally screamed. Hands and knees braced on the floor. Face twisted in pain.

You clapped your hands over your ears, tears streaming down your cheeks as you willed the sound to stop.

“Lucien—” Elain skidded to halt at the doorway, the mass of pink fabric around her waist swishing once then falling still. She looked at the outline of Jurian. She looked at you. Then she fell to her knees, pulling Lucien’s body into her lap and whispering his name. The initial silence stretching across the bond had terrified her. Hearing him scream and the heartbreak that followed after had sent her running.

Lucien collapsed against her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in the flesh of her stomach. She cradled his head in one arm, the other splayed over his back as he wept.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped through her own tears. “I’m so so sorry, Lucien.”

He cried.

And cried.

You and Elain heard the shouting from downstairs as a collection of Cassian’s most trusted Valkyries and Illyrian warriors assembled on the lawn. Emerie stood among them, her seconds helping to tie the leather straps of her armour into place as she barked orders left and right.

Elain looked towards you. The fight to come left no time for grief. Not even Lucien was exempt from that.

You moved in front of your brother, blocking the sight of the curtains on the floor.

“Lucien,” you begged. Your brother’s bloodshot eye looked at you from the crook of Elain’s arm. “We need to get ready. We need to go.”

“I can’t… I can’t just leave him. I can’t leave him to rot in this room. I can’t—”

“I’ll take care of him,” Elain promised. She looked down at her mate. “You can trust me with him, Lucien.”

He said nothing, but together you and Elain helped him up to his feet, and Elain — beautiful, lovely Elain — stood on the tips of her feet to kiss her mate’s tear-stained cheek. She tasted the salt on her tongue and felt the burning of unshed tears in her own eyes.

“I’ll bury him somewhere calm in a bed of marigold and poppy.” Fiery, resilient flowers to remind Jurian of the woman he had loved. “And when you and Vassa return we will have a proper goodbye. I promise.”

He took a deep, trembling breath and whispered, “Thank you, Elain.”

You let him lean against you, let him bury his face in your hair to escape the smell of blood and death, and walked with him downstairs.

After you and Lucien were gone and Elain stood alone in the presence of the dead, she rolled up her pale pink sleeves, tied off the length of her dress and prepared for a new garden.

Azriel was soaking wet and aching as he flew up to the House of Wind. Salt stripped his hair of moisture and the strands dried hard and tacky against his scalp.

“Did you need to make such a dramatic exit?” Cassian snapped when they landed on the balcony. “I thought she’d killed you.”

Azriel moved through the House without even looking, charred leather flaking off his shoulders and floating to the ground as he walked. His wings were sore and tender from the heat, along with his ribs and shoulder from when Vassa had first barreled into him and then when he’d landed in the Sidra.

“We needed to make it look real, remember?” Azriel answered smoothly.

It had always been part of the plan to let Vassa take Ione if she attempted it, but they couldn’t let her go without a fight or Koschei would find it suspicious. Even so, Azriel hated to admit that he’d been distracted thinking about you. If he’d been any slower today he might have lost his wings.

“Well you did your job too well.” Cassian growled.

Azriel dipped into his room, quickly stripping out of his clothes and donning new leathers before he and Cassian set off once again deep into the mountain.

They stopped in front of a grey wood door, and Azriel knocked twice. Paused. Knocked thrice. Paused. Then knocked twelve times.

Ione — the real Ione — opened the door.

Feyre had inherited many gifts from the seven High Lords of Prythian — her healing touch, her water wolves, her mastery over flame and light and dark. But one of her least used gifts had been glamouring people from her Court… until now.

It had taken her half a dozen portraits to familiarize herself with every subtle valley and curve of Ione’s face, and double the number of attempts before she’d successfully woven Nesta’s features into a perfect copy. You’d swooped in for the final steps, using your knowledge and magic to dampen Nesta’s magical signature until even Cassian couldn’t tell when it was Nesta or Ione standing in front of him without relying on the mating bond.

“Has it happened?” The old woman asked gravely, pulling her shawl tight around her shoulders.

Azriel nodded. “Vassa took the bait.”

As they spoke, the mortal queen was carrying a disguised Nesta to the Continent where she’d be a hidden weapon in enemy territory. Koschei wouldn’t even know he’d been delivered the wrong prize.

At least that was the hope.

They brought Ione down to the House, and Azriel forced the woman into a brisk walk, weaving through the small collection of fae in search of you. You stood by Feyre and Rhysand close to the river, one arm kept tight around Lucien’s and a new satchel slung over your back. You kept glancing over at your brother, watching as he did what he could to compose himself.

“Y/n.”

One small word spoken from his lips and your eyes were latching onto him. There was a question in his eyes as he looked first at your pale face, and then at Lucien. The trembling of your hands and the shake of your head was all he needed.

Jurian was gone.

Azriel swallowed, stopping in front of the male he’d once hated so unfairly and feeling shame. “Lucien, I’m so—”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll rip your tongue out,” Lucien seethed, his eyes flat and hard as stone. The despair had given away to fury before Jurian’s body was even cold and suddenly Lucien was itching to be on the Continent. To feel Koschei’s blood on his hands.

It wasn’t too late to save Vassa. It wasn’t too late to get his friend back.

“You can feel pity for me when this is over.”

There were only a dozen fae crowded around Feyre and Rhysand, but you could feel every wave of power that rippled off their skin, the electricity they shot into the air as they bounced on the pads of their feet and loosened their muscles.

You found yourself pressed between Azriel and Lucien, the Shadowsinger’s hand balanced on the small of your back. Ione stood in front of you, your hand laid protectively on her shoulder, and a Valkyrie stood behind. She had her corn yellow hair braided around her head in a crown of gold, and stretching out from the slits in her armor fluttered the black and orange wings of a butterfly.

“Techaria,” she introduced herself with a smile and a handshake. “I’ve been assigned to you and Ione.”

Techaria never left your side, standing firmly at your back after Rhysand winnowed you all to the Dawn Court and the crowd swelled to nearly a hundred.

You were miles away from the Dawn Palace — the ocean at your front and a sea of frost-tinged grasses at your back. The air buzzed with excitement and dread and no small amount of bloodlust.

You caught glimpses of the shimmering High Lord of Dawn and the hawk-winged peregryn soldier who held his hand as he dispensed final healing touches. He would not be among the seven High Lords and High Ladies leaving for the Continent.

The High Lord and High Lady of Winter stood glistening like a pair of crystalline figures beside one of the coast’s watchtowers. White-haired warriors of frost and starshine bobbed around like snowfall and you struggled not to tremble in the presence of the three armored polar bears among their ranks. Eris’s males were similarly easy to spot with their burnished copper armour and their battle hounds hovering at their shoulders. Azriel stepped in between you and one of the beasts, froth pouring from between razor sharp teeth as it growled in your direction for staring too long.

A Summer soldier shoved past, earning himself a glower from Techaria and Azriel as he grabbed another female and drew her into one last passionate kiss. The seashell necklaces they wore clattered as they met, evidence of the dozens of battles they’d survived together.

It wasn’t an uncommon sight as the crowd quickly split apart at the orders of their High Lords and High Ladies, coalescing into pre-determined divisions that sometimes asked mated pairs to separate. In foreign territory against a mysterious god, communications through their bonds would be indispensable.

You saw an Autumn Court male — one of the High Lord’s brothers by the name of Castor — break away from his group. He ran towards a willowy Spring nymph two divisions over and slipped a ring into their pocket.

Their blue eyes blew open in surprise, cries of protest smothered by a firm kiss before he whispered, “I have my High Lord’s blessing. When this is over, I’ll propose to you properly, but you’ll keep this safe in the meantime, won’t you?”

The nymph sputtered, then nodded when words failed them. Just as quickly as he had come, Castor sprinted back to his men and his division disappeared before your eyes. They were the first to winnow to the Continent.

Lucien folded you into a back-breaking hug. “Stay safe.” Your brother commanded. You heard the tightness in his voice. He’d be staying with Feyre and Rhysand to lead one of the main charges alongside Eris and Tarquin. “I can’t lose you as well.”

“I’ll come back so long as you do.”

You squeezed him hard enough to crack ribs, but Lucien wished it had lasted longer. He dove into the parting wave of bodies and vanished.

You felt your throat tighten as you turned to face the goodbye you’d been dreading the most.

“Az, I—”

He silenced you with a kiss, sliding his tongue over your lips for one last taste. He didn’t want to say goodbye. He refused to accept the possibility that you wouldn’t return to each other.

He pulled away so quickly your head spun.

“I’ll be with the second division,” he breathed out, “Near the southwest corner, not even a mile away from you.” The map flashed in your mind with all its little figurines spread out like a chess game. “Remember what we talked about?”

If things go wrong, find me so I can protect you. And so if anything happens, we won’t be alone. I want you to promise me.

You nodded fervently.

Someone in the crowd was calling his name. Maybe Cassian? You couldn’t pay attention to anything other than the hazel eyes burning into you. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but suddenly his brother was there grabbing his arm and hauling him away towards the second division. Red and blue siphons flashed in the grey light and then the pair were gone.

The crowd thinned as more groups began winnowing away to the Continent. One second there. The next second, gone.

“We need to go, my Lady,” Techaria said gently, but firmly. She’d given you both your privacy and a few precious seconds, but that time was over now.

You nodded, not able to look away from the empty space Azriel had occupied.

“He’ll be fine, girl,” Ione said, taking Techaria’s hand. She wore thin, chainmail armour enchanted to feel weightless and a glamoured veil over her features. You caught glimpses of her true face out of the corner of your eyes, but direct eye contact and her face blurred and warped into something unnatural.

“I know,” you whispered.

Your stomach dropped when you realized you never did say goodbye to Azriel.

You felt Techaria’s calloused palm slide into yours and then you were gone.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

Yeah guys, RIP Jurian. As I said in a previous post, one of my qualms with SJM is that she doesn't let characters stay dead. I want y'all to know, Jurian is gone. Sorry............ he wasn't even in the story for very long and didn't do much but I'm going to miss him.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader slowburn #angst #character death #the shadowsinger and the inkbird

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travellingarmy · 1 year

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✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙

Lilia Vanrouge x Fem! reader

Warning(s): NSFW. Minors do no interact.

Just a short drabble.

⊱⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱⊰

There you were, body pressed into the mattress doing your best to stifle a groan with a fae looking over at you with the most devlish smirk plastered on his face.

Lilia getting so hard for you so early in the morning and deciding to stuff that cute little cunny of yours would be the best thing to wake up to but not when you two had but a wink of sleep from last night's fiasco as well.

Your overstimulated body quivers and you hugged tightly on the pillow while he fucks into you while on your side harshly, trying hard not to make so much noises this early in the morning when the others are still sleeping. He raises your leg a bit higher to pound into you just right to feel the walls of your cunt squeeze him everytime he enters. His ragged breathing was close to your ear and you hear an airy chuckle. "Mm~? Is my little fairy crying?" He removes the pillow that you've been shoving your face into to quiet the sounds and felt wonderful to be a sadist at that moment, loving the tears that he is responsible for making from the love that he gave out. He licks the tears at the corner of your eyes and smirks against your face. He engulfs you in his arms and his bare front is pressed against your back. It was radiating warmth like you've never felt before. "You're so cute when you cry~"

His touch is electrifying with one hand groping your breast and the other teasing your body with light touches that trails from your thighs to your hip before going back down to repeat it's motion.

You mewl out his name and beg him. Beg for what, to stop or to help you with your own release that had been building up despite your legs having been numb long before? You're not sure, but you hoped that he would already come inside you already and make you feel full to make him stop numbing your legs. However, you don't think that that will be soon as he continues to tease and rile your body even more. He is clearly enjoying this so there is no way he'd stop now, not when he hasn't put how you contort your face at everytime he hits a certain spot into memory.

"Khehee, you're doing so good, little fairy."

"Just a little more for me~"

✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #lilia vanrouge #yandere twisted wonderland #twst lilia x reader #lilia vanrouge headcanons #lilia vanrouge x reader smut #twst x reader #twst x reader smut #twst lilia vanrouge #twst lilia vanrouge x reader smut #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x reader smut

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 4 months

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Datura Pt 2

Author's Note: I initially wrote Part I and 2 as one piece but it was too long, so here's the next part :) Not sure how long this fic will be, but buckle up 'cause it'll be a good ol' enemies to lovers, political intrigue fic for however long it takes for me to figure out an ending.

Summary: Something has been hunting you for your powers and it's finally caught up with you. A Rhysand x Reader UTM What If.

Content Warnings: Suggestiveness, a little NSFW near the end, before we get to the ANGST (we're gonna suffer but we're gonna like it); that red headed bitch makes her first appearance; bit of cursing; canon typical violence.

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All attempts at speaking fail, your mouth opening and closing without any sounds coming out. Your head spins, mind reeling. This can’t be real, can’t be happening. That tonic from the priestesses had to have something weird in it. This was a hallucination.

Yes. Hallucination, that had to be it.

“We can’t stay here,” says the male, his large hands still tight on your shoulders. There’s a coppery scent on him, something damp on the edge of his shirt sleeve, brushing against the exposed skin of your shoulder. Blood. He’d been the thing those other guys were screaming at.

Your stomach twists, heart slamming in yours ears, sounding like drum beats again. No. No that wasn’t your heartbeat at all, that was the drums outside. Great, while the Spring Court was having a giant orgy you were lost in some sort of cave with… what even was this male?

Was he even fae? You still can’t see a thing in the dark.

You recover yourself enough to step out of his grip. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” your voice trembles as you speak, hands shaking at your sides. You’re defenseless out here, even with your own magic, you've never managed to control it enough to use it. “I can’t even see you.”

A mistake. You shouldn’t have admitted to it.

A flicker of light flares, glittering and spinning like…

Stars. There are actual, tiny, glittering stars swirling around his fingertips. The glittering light illuminates the walls, much higher overhead than you’d thought initially. There is much more room to move around in general, but the darkness had been so thick you’d mistaken it for rocks. The light doesn’t pierce all the way through though, only the space between the two of you, the darkness beyond still moving and shifting like a wall. Your eyes track it back to the towering male ahead of you, the darkness drifting off him like a mist. Not the darkness of the cave at all, but one of his own making. It moves on his whim around the two of you, a bit of it still caressing your spine, your bare legs, while the rest hovers like some sort of bubble. A shield perhaps, you know the High Fae can make them, but it is just as likely to be a cage.

You try to summon claws, focusing your thoughts into getting your hands to change, shift, but nothing happens. Nothing but a slight twinge of pain in your skull.

As if he knows it, feels it, the stranger reaches a star flecked hand out to brush a tendril of hair off your forehead, his callused hands warm against your flushed skin. You shiver despite yourself.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he says. That voice is rich, low, a lover’s purr.

He is fae, not the monster you had initially suspected. You aren’t sure what people usually wear on Calanmai, but the dark pants, the loose fitting shirt, half unbuttoned to reveal a swirl of dark ink across his bronze chest, and boots seems out of place. As if he’s over-dressed. Half a dozen rings glitter in the starlight spinning between his slender fingers, but you cannot ignore the blood that’s dusted over them.

“What happened to the others that came into the cave?”

A shadow passes over his face, dark brows furrowing. He’s a gorgeous male, by far the most handsome male you’d ever seen in your life, but that look, as the glow in his eyes dims, pupils expanding so there was nothing but endless darkness… it's like looking at the paintings of the Death Gods you’ve seen in your books. The shadow at your back writhes as if agitated, only settling once the look has passed and the violet returns to his eyes.

“They wanted to hurt you,” a low growl.

You shiver. “Why’d you call me out here then, if it’s unsafe?”

He tilts his head, a predator assessing prey, only cold calculations in that gaze. It’s an effort not to squirm under the scrutiny. “It’s not safe there either.”

“In my home?” You counter.

“In Spring,” he returns.

“Spring is perfectly safe, it’s practically the only place that-”

He moves faster than you can blink, clamping a hand over your mouth. “Don’t speak things like that in places like this!” He hisses. It’s not anger on his face, though, it is fear. You feel the chill of it seep through the bubble of darkness he’s created. His whole body shakes with it.

What do males with this kind of power fear?

It makes you nervous, wondering, but not as much as having a stranger put their hands on you. You sink your teeth into the flesh of his palm so hard you draw blood, and as he yanks his hand back, you move to run. Only to find the shadows blocking your path, no longer wisps, but solid, like adamant. You practically bounce off it.

“Let me out,” you order.

He stares down at his hand with a smirk, amused. “That was cheap.”

“I don’t like being touched by strangers,” you hiss. “Now let me out or I’ll really fucking bite you.”

He chuckles and the sound of it skitters over your bones, makes a whole other type of shiver run across your skin. Perhaps that’s part of the magic of Calanmai, the ability to remove the usual inhibitions and allow the souls to merge as the magic of the land demands. You quietly curse yourself for being so powerless against it. With enough training you should have been able to shield from it, but there’s no time for it now.

“What if I like being bitten, hm?” He teases.

“Then you’ll love when I rip your fucking throat out with my teeth.”

He takes a step closer and tilts his chin up, baring the full expanse of his throat to you. “I’ll let you, but then, how would your find a way out of the cave?”

“Bastard,” you snarl, but you can’t stop yourself from watching the way his throat works when he swallows, the way he grins at the roof, watching you, calculating what your next move will be. He knows he has you right where he wants you, it’s like watching a cat play with a mouse.

He slowly lowers his chin, still grinning. “It’s this way,” he gestures with a hand and the wall of shadows moves further into the cave.

You stare after it, than at him. “Isn’t the entrance the other way?”

“Trust me.”

“I don’t even know your name, why would I trust you?”

He reaches out and grabs your hand, but before you can pull away from him again, he’s pressing your knuckles to his lips. They’re surprisingly soft against your skin; electricity shooting through you, as he says in a voice made for the bedroom, “Rhys.”

Rhys, Darkness Incarnate, apparently. His name was an answer to a question you’d been asking yourself the last couple of years. Strange as the circumstance are, he fits exactly what you’d imagined the voice that had hounded you would sound like. Putting a face to the voice was strangely comforting, like there was no longer some strange threat hanging around your head every year anymore.

“I’m Y/N.”

You’re sure you’re an idiot for telling him. It’s not like he’s dropping the shield and letting your run out, it’s still there, caging you in as you move through the cave, side by side. Just because he’s leading you somewhere doesn’t mean it’s somewhere good, this very well could be a trap. Your head hurts trying to figure out what’s real, what’s likely. You’re not entirely convinced this still isn’t a hallucination.

He tries your name out on his tongue, nodding to himself, like he’d been looking for the answer to a question too.

Your heart clenches in your chest at the sight. There is something lonely about him you can’t quite place.

“Has it really been you, calling me these last couple years?” You ask softly; you’re trapped down here with him, might as well pass the time until you get to whatever bitter end awaits you.

He nods as you take a sharp left and descend down further at a slopping angle that has you holding onto the walls for support. It’s colder the deeper you go, despite the budding summer heat the rest of the court is feeling outside. You’re trembling as the path goes from soft sand to smooth, icy stone, the rock seeping all heat from your body on contact.

“Yes,” Rhys confesses. He stops for a moment, head tilted to the side like he’s listening for something, more shadows leaking from him, slipping through the shield to do Mother knows what.

When he looks back at you, his eyes are dark, sad. “It’s not safe.” He repeats. “I was trying to warn you.”

You run your hands over your arms, trying to get some heat back. Without a thought he’s unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it over your shoulders. The move if effortless, gentle, so at odds with what’s happening you can’t do anything other than slide your arms into the too big sleeves and pull it tight around you on sheer muscle memory. Its warm; the scent of jasmine and citrus and the sea all over it. You strangely want to bury yourself in it, until that scent is burned into your skin, your lungs, until it’s the only thing you breath. Calanmai at work, you can only assume.

With a hand on your back he prompts you forward again, even as he continues. “I didn’t know what else to do, it was my only chance to reach you.” His palm takes up the expanse of your lower back, you are so small next to him.

“But why me?”

The swirling tattoos cross over his chest and back, leaving a small gap between his shoulders, like there’s something supposed to be there, some small piece of him missing in those gaps between the ink. The urge to run your fingers over them is almost overwhelming, you have to pull your hands into his shirtsleeves to stop yourself.

“You’re-” he pauses and you swear you hear claws scratching somewhere above you.

Instinctively, before you can stop and think about what you’re doing, you press yourself closer to him. It’s the most natural thing in the world for him to slide an arm around your shoulders and pull you against his side. He’s all sleek muscle, a warrior’s build, though he carries no visible weapons. Perhaps, with powers like these he doesn’t need any.

The shield shudders around the two of you as he draws it in so close there is no room to move away from him.

You don’t dare speak again, the stillness he radiates tells you enough.

Several long minutes pass before the shield moves outward again and he gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze signaling that the two of you should press on.

“What do you know of your parents?” He says finally, loosing a sigh of relief.

“I don’t even remember them,” you say. “What do you know of them?”

“I fought against your father in the War,” he replies .

Your father was a soldier?

“He’s a very powerful male,” he continues but all you can focus on the choice of words, the current tense, as if your father is still alive. “As was your mother.”

Your head spins; he grips you a little tighter like he knows it.

“There are a lot of powerful people who would like to get their hands on your power,” he says.

Its an effort to swallow. “I don’t even know how to use them,” you whisper.

He winces. “You have no training?” It almost sounds like horror in his voice.

You stare down at your hands, like their the source of all your problems. “My uncle said they would just… click.”

“Cauldron boil me,” he curses.

“I take it that’s not what you were hoping to hear?”

The cave split into four directions, one way covered with stalagmites dripping a strange glowing liquid, another bursting with flowers, a third full of rubble, the fourth the only clear path out. You go to that one, cautiously, Rhys keeping his head tilted, listening to what dangers might lay ahead.

“You’re vulnerable, is all,” Rhys says softly. “And there’s not enough time to change that now.”

A sense of foreboding lands in the pit of your stomach. “How much time do we have?”

“I have to be gone by sunrise,” he answers.

Gone, the foreboding turns into outright anxiety, stomach now twisting in knots. You resist the urge to reach out and take his hand. It’s nice having him here, you’re not ready to give this up just yet. “So there’s a reason you only call to me on Calanmai?”

He only nods.

“What happens if you’re still here by sunrise?”

He runs his tongue over his full lower lip, thinking.

“Are you like a vampire or something? Do you go poof?” You make an exploding gesture with your hands and he laughs, the echo bouncing off the shield. You’re not sure why it’s the laugh that makes you decide to trust him fully. Maybe some naïve part of you thinks if he meant you harm he wouldn’t be laughing at your stupid jokes.

“No,” he says, hand on his stomach as he fights to catch his breath. “Nothing like that.”

You watch the way his muscles shift as he catches his breath, the way his chest rises and falls. You’d like nothing more than to run your tongue along the sharp planes of him. You can’t stop yourself from wondering if you’d be able to taste the jasmine and citrus on his skin if you did.

“You’re sure? Let me see your teeth?”

He flashes you a grin that makes your stomach do flips. “See? No fangs.”

You turn towards him, pressing in closer, teasingly assessing, like you’re unsure. Calanmai has made you bold, you have to admit. Even with the new time limit closing down on you, you can’t help but stop for just a minute to enjoy this side of the male before you.

“So what are you then? If you have to work under the moon?”

“I’ve been many things,” he says, his eyes drifting down to your lips.

“And right now, what are you?” You press.

“Right now…” he places a hand on your hip and pulls you flush against him. “Right now I’m all yours, Darling.”

You must be somewhere close to where the party is happening above, because you can hear the drums again, as if the music is beating from within the rocks of the cave walls, the reverberations vibrating under your skin. It’s too much, too loud, pushing you closer to him, the silence that fills your head when he touches you the only way to make the noise stop.

Perhaps this was the plan the whole time: Get you away from the crowds, somewhere secluded, get you to trust him, to embrace him, but you can’t stop yourself from stretching up on your toes to kiss him. Did it matter in the end? He groans as he deepens the kiss, one star flecked hand sliding into the strands of your hair, angling your head for him to easily swipe his tongue into your mouth. The kiss is demanding, but soft somehow, like he’s desperate for it, you, but not holding so tight that you can’t pull away from him if you want.

The shadows return, dancing over your skin, skittering higher and higher up your thighs, across your waist, your chest. You let your own hands explore the broad expanse of his chest, skin silky and warm beneath your fingertips.

If this was the plan all along, you don’t care. This is good.

He tastes like starlight, like the night chilled wind across a calming sea. It conjures one in your mind, gentle waves lapping at a moonlight shore; there’s music floating across the water, the sounds faint and distant but much more soothing than the demand of the drums above you.

All too soon he’s pulling away from you, gentle kisses placed against the corners of your lips, your chin, the underside of your jaw. “Wish we had more time,” he whispers into your skin. “Want to take my time with you.”

You’re absolutely molten, very aware of how soaked your panties are, just barely covered by your thin shift. Any other night you might have had more presence of mind to be mortified that you were so wet just from kissing someone, but not tonight. Tonight it makes sense, is the only thing that makes sense.

He brushes his nose along the column of your throat, scenting you. “We really should keep moving,” but his hand trails down your front, tracing the valley between your breasts, sliding lower.

You tilt and kiss him again, hand tangling in his onyx hair. Nothing has ever felt as good as kissing him, you doubt anything else could ever compare. Unfair that you only have one night, one moment, you’re sure he’d ruin anyone else for you given the right amount of time.

He indulges you, just as hungry as before, hand still sliding lower, until he finds the hem of your panties through your shift.

You ache between your legs, have half a mind to beg and plead for him to touch you. Your feelings about Calanmai be damned, you want him to keep going, to kiss you, touch you, ruin you until the time he has left is spent.

Deft fingers find the hem of your shift, pulling it slowly upwards until he can bunch it up in his hand.

“Rhys,” you whimper into his lips.

His pupils are lust blown, lips kiss swollen and pink. “I know, I feel it too.”

You are used to the feeling of your power prowling beneath your skin, a caged animal begging to be released, this is not entirely different, but instead that power is replaced with him. You want, need, him everywhere. Need him to keep kissing, touching.

He slides his hand under your waistband, movements slow, precise, letting you indulge in the scrape of his callused hands over your soft skin. The movement alone is almost too much, your breath rasping out of you, trying not to squirm. He’s so close to where you need him…

“Rhysand!”

A female voice shakes the cave, the shield. Rhys jerks away from you like the voice hit him, eyes wide.

You grab onto the edges of his shirt and snap it closed around you like it will hide what you’ve been doing.

Footsteps echo, the cave shaking.

Rhys glances at you, eyes wide. “Stay quiet.” He says it in your mind, as easily as he has done for all these years. You don’t have time to ask how he can do it, or why, as he runs a hand through his hair, fixing it, before sliding out of the shield. It swallows you, tightening so you can’t run, can’t see what’s happening.

You barely dare to breath, as the footsteps stop not far from where you are. “Busy are we?” The shield can’t keep out the voice.

“Hunting as you asked, My Queen,” he says smoothly, casually.

Queen?

Whoever she is, she gives a mirthless laugh. “You call what you’re doing hunting now?”

“You said to use the caves-”

“I didn’t say fuck some whore in them,” she snarls. “I can smell her on you.”

You’re mortified enough to wonder if your powers could let you somehow dissolve into goo and melt into the floor.

“All part of the plan,” Rhys answers and your heart sinks as his words hit home.

“So you know where she is?”

“Of course,” Rhys says and the shield suddenly vanishes, the cold absence of it hitting you in a rush.

You give a little squeak of surprise, tightening his shirt around your exposed body as your eyes adjust to the soft gray light of the cave. You spent two much time here, the sun now rising outside.

The woman before you was tall, slender, eyes dark, mouth a cruel, pinched line. The blood red hair only serves to make her all the more pale and as she takes you in, her teeth flashing in a grin, you get the feeling that this what a wolf looks like when it sees a lamb.

“This little thing?” She stalks towards you and you take a step back, some instinctive, primal part of you recognizing that the more space between the two of you the better. You can still turn heal and run if she’s far enough away.

“Don’t worry, little one,” she coos at you, reaching out a claw tipped hand. Her blood red nails are sharpened to spikes, bit it’s the ring, with a swiveling, life like eye in the center that makes every muscle in your body tense up. “I’m here to help you.”

“Fuck off!” You hiss. There’s only one exit, the way she came, slopping upward, the floor clearly damp with morning dew. You’d need a good head start to make it up there first.

Rhys is watching you with the same intensity he’d kissed you with and you wish you had something to hurl at his head. You should have known better than to trust him.

“Quite the mouth on you,” she purrs. “I hope Rhysand put it to good use.”

Something in you chest cracks, a lump forming in your throat. You need to get out of his shirt, get the taste of him out of your mouth; he played you like a fiddle and if whoever this lady is hadn’t shown up, would have used you for his own amusement. And you would have let him.

“What do you want?” You bite out, inching closer to the exit.

“As I said,” she says slowly, like you’re too dumb to understand. “I’m here to help.”

“I don’t need help,” you throw a withering glance at the male. “From either of you.”

“Oh but that’s just not true, is it, little one?” She doesn’t move, but something feels wrong. You don’t know why, but your whole body suddenly freezes, heart slamming in your chest.

No not frozen, you’d move if you could, but you can’t. It’s as if something grabbed hold of you, held you in place.

“There are a lot of people looking for your, Princess.”

Princess? This is a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake.

“Oh she doesn’t know, does she?” She smirks at Rhys, who shakes his head in conformation.

“Imagine that, the daughter of the King of Hybern, raised a simple little farm hand,” she grins like she knows she’s won, even as your head spins.

Hybern. You knew the name from your history books, the King a ruthless tyrant who nearly destroyed Prythian to get back his human slaves. Your mouth is dry, your hands might have shook, could you move your body.

She curls her fingers in a come here motion and as if someone has you on strings like a puppet, you take two steps towards her. You try to dig your heels in, fight it, but the hold over you won’t budge. You walk until your close enough for her to graze the tips of her claws under your chin.

“There are a lot of bad people trying to find you, little one.”

The only thing you have full control over is your mouth, so you snarl and flash your teeth, wishing you had the ability to grow fangs, “I’m pretty sure you are the bad people, bitch!”

She smirks but the grip she takes on your chin is anything but kind, your jaw groaning under the crushing weight of her grip. Her nails draw blood, crimson trickling down your jaw. “Poor, delusional little thing. Don’t you worry, we’re going to take good care of you, aren’t we, Rhysand.”

He grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “Of course!”

“Your father will be very pleased to hear you’re alive,” she says to you.

To Rhys she says, “Bind her, I don’t want her trying to run again.”

You still can’t move, can’t flee. Some small piece of you wants to beg, plead for him to let you go, to prove you wrong about him, but you’re pride won’t let you. Not as more wisps of shadow curl around his wrists and hands like snakes, no more stars to be seen.

“I should have ripped out your throat,” you snarl.

The shadows jump from him, twining around your wrists and ankles, not the gentle caresses from earlier, tightening until you can barely move your fingers and toes.

Rhys grins at you, shrugs, but it’s in your mind that you hear the same quip from earlier, “I would have let you.” It’s not teasing this time though, it’s sad, haunted.

Doesn’t matter, he’s still checking your hands, tossing you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. You tell yourself you won’t cry here, won’t give either of these bastards the satisfaction, there will be a time for that later.

It’s not much farther before sunlight blinds you, only a few steps of Rhys’ long legs before you’re out of the cave. You’d been so close. It had been right there this whole time! Had you not been so distracted, had those stupid drums not been so loud you might have made it. Might have gotten to go home.

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader smut #utm!rhys x reader #rhysand fic #acotar fic #acotar smut #acotar series #my fanfic #my writing

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ghouljams · 7 months

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Reverse Fae!AU feat. Seer!König and Fae!Liebling

Alright, these dumbasses won the poll so here's their start. The return of Liebling's nastier habit and also me jacking up her impulse drive because it's fun. Fae!König would be terribly jealous of his human counterpart, what do you mean fae!Liebling is utterly obsessed? She's insane, I love her. (She's not trapped with him, he's trapped with her)

There's a man inspecting your branches. He's tall, leaning far down to touch your leaves. His eyes are darkly ringed, and in his back pocket there's a scrap of cloth, a mask. He scares and intrigues you in equal measure. He presses his thumb against one of your thorns, letting it break skin before pulling back. The red drop of it falls onto the soil as he presses the digit to his lips. You blink up at him through your thorns, the shield of it feeling more like a prison when faced with him. Your heart beats a little faster, heat flooding your veins as his fingers brush against leaves and gently pluck at the edges of your stems.

He holds a branch out of the way, fingers carefully avoiding the thorns, and reaches his other arm into the heart of your home. You hesitate before reaching up and wrapping your fingers around his. Curious, you've never had someone put themselves in such harm's way before. Not for you. Like a gun going off as soon as you touch him, he grabs you. His grip is tight, immediate and bruising. He pulls you from your home, dragging you through your lovely thorns before you can try to struggle. You yank at his grip, even as he holds you in the summer air, twisting to try and scramble back into your safety. He looks at you, he looks at you. You curl in towards yourself, trying to hide, your thorns reach for you and the man holds you up higher out of their reach. Pain shoots down your arm as your shoulder holds the brunt of your weight. You shout in pain and your thorns react.

They reach for him instead, whips that lash against his legs and dig their spikes into his firm muscle. He hisses, wincing, and wraps his arm around you to hold you against his chest. You push against him, your hands small against his broad chest, his grip unrelenting. Bigger and stronger than you. You switch tactics.

Your thorns wrap around his legs, root him to the ground as you turn to dig your claws into his shoulders, your teeth into his neck. The firm flesh gives under your teeth, blood popping bright on your tongue as you bite him. He flinches, his arms tighten around you as you hold him there. You growl, sink your teeth deeper, threaten to rip clear through his throat if he doesn't let you free. His grip loosens and you take the split second to dislodge your teeth, and scramble from his arms as he smacks a hand against his bleeding neck.

You thorns gather back around you, a protective shield against another grab from your would be captor. You press back on the branches, unnerved by the calmness in the man's eyes even as he holds his life bleeding under his hand.

"Stop looking at me," you snap, wrapping your arms around yourself, "you're not supposed to look at me."

"You're beautiful," his breath rasps, and you feel heat rush through your veins again. You squeeze yourself a little tighter, trying to quell the sudden rapid beat of your heart. This man pulled you from safety, kept you from your thorns, a spare compliment shouldn't make you feel so weak.

"I'm-" you swallow, eyes darting around the garden. He reaches a hand towards you and his fingers brushing your ankle, you pull your legs towards your chest. "I'll bite you again," you warn him. His eyes spark excitedly.

"That would be rude, this is my property you're intruding on," he grabs your ankle, and pulls you out of yourself, "my property, my garden, my thorns-"

"Blackberries," you grit, correcting him without thinking as you dig your fingers into the dirt to hold yourself against his pull.

"Blackberries," he accepts with a smile before continuing, "and my faerie, who is going to apologize for biting me." You're dragged back towards him, the clover littering the garden scrapes your skin and your fingers gouge the dirt trying to keep yourself in place.

"One bite is hardly-"

"One bite?" He laughs, clicks his tongue. A shiver drips down your spine, settles hot between your legs. "One bite," he releases your leg and you try to kick him. He catches it with his bloody hand, the crimson smearing over your skin as it soaks the collar of his tee. He drags his shirt up with his clean hand, his torso littered with half healed scratches, punctures from thorns, bites. "Liebling," he coos as your eyes dart away from him, "you leave your thorns in my bed and think I can't find them again?" His hands grab your hips and tug you up, hold you against his chest as your legs scramble to avoid falling over his lap.

He's so solid, so warm. His blood calls to you, your teeth ache to sink into him again, your lips to feel his skin. Your mouth waters as you press close. Waters the same way it has since he moved in, since you saw him in the garden and felt your heart race watching him pull his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his brow. The shift in your weight drags your hips against his, let's you feel the firm heat of his rapidly growing hardness. You rock down against it as you lean to drag your tongue along his neck. He grabs you by the hair and pulls your head back, just as you get the first taste of blood. You press your fingers to your lips, press your tongue against them to feel the lingering tingle of seer blood.

Your hand is tugged away and replaced by his tongue sliding against yours, licking it into his mouth with a low groan. He sucks the taste of iron from your tongue, his big hands roaming your skin as his teeth scrape against the wet muscle. His tongue invades your mouth, pushes inside with an insistence that makes your eyes flutter closed, a purr starting low and rumbling in your chest.

"Du schmeckst so gut," he murmurs, grabbing your face to hold you in place, "Du schmeckst wie meine, meine Liebling."

"Yours?" You hope, fingers dancing over the warm wound on his neck.

"Mine," he growls. Everything in your chest lights up warm and golden, your thorns sharpen themselves excitedly. You're all too eager to dig your claws into this man, to make him yours in return, a reward for seeking out the sharp parts of you. You'll sharpen yourself against his rocks, and keep out anyone who'd dare try taking him from you.

"Give me your name," you whisper, feeling his lips dragging against yours, his smile.

"König," he lies, half lies. You can feel it piecing itself against your tethers, the hidden tendrils of his real name still locked up tight. You'll get it, your thorns aren't just to keep out trespassers.

They're for keeping your treasure in.

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multi-fandom-imagines8 · 23 days

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A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 1

A/N: Hello everyone! I’m planning to write an Azriel x Archeron!half-sister reader series, possibly featuring a slow-burn romance and angst. I don’t know how many parts it’s going to have. It begins in ACOMAF chapter 24.

Summary: The eldest Archeron half-sister Y/n hates Fae kind, due to tragic past events. When she unexpectedly visits her sisters, she is met with the very race she hates.

Word count: 2.11K

Being the eldest sibling is not always easy. Y/n knew this firsthand, shouldering the weight of responsibility for her younger sisters from a young age. After their mother’s death, she made the difficult decision to leave her sisters behind and stay with her supposed biological father. It wasn’t because she didn’t share the same father as her sisters; in fact, he loved her like she was his own and never discriminated between them. For the first two years after their mothers death, she stayed with her family, but when her “father” lost his fortune, she knew leaving was the only option. It wasn’t just about lightening their burden by having one less mouth to feed; she also hoped by seeking out her biological father, she could find work and send money back to her family.

Surprisingly, her father welcomed her with open arms, a kindness that caught her off guard considering he had shown little interest in her when she was younger. Despite her initial skepticism, she didn’t question his motives, fearing he might kick her out. With cleverness and father’s help, she managed to pursue higher education, while working to make ends meet. Though her earnings were modest, she’d send whatever she could spare to her family, ensuring they had enough to survive. With Feyre’s help, there was always food on the table.

Y/n’s life was devoid of fun. Between studying, working, sleeping and occasional visits to her family, she had little time for socializing and friends. This isolation was entirely her choice; she distanced herself from others, earning a reputation as being cold, heartless, selfish, and arrogant to those who didn’t know her well. Yet, beneath this exterior, she harbored a deep love for her sisters and would sacrifice anything for their well-being, despite no longer showing them affection after their mother’s death. They understood her silent expressions of care, recognizing that actions spoke louder than words.

One thing everyone knew for certain is that y/n was stubborn. She held fast to her beliefs and opinions, regardless of external influences. Among her sisters, Netsa was the most like her and the one who admired her the most. The two shared the closest bond before she left, but make no mistake, if anyone Nesta feared and obeyed, it was Y/n, knowing she was not one to be crossed.

After Feyre left the mortal realm, her family’s fortune turned, and she finished her education. Consequently, her visits became less frequent, as she immersed herself into her work.

A smile appeared on y/n’s face at the thought of her sisters’ reactions to seeing her after a long time. She decided to surprise them with a spontaneous visit. Unbeknownst to her, another surprise awaited her inside the place she called home.

“Nesta, Elain, I’m home!” y/n announced as she opened the front door of their home.

“Are we expecting someone else?” Rhys whispered to Feyre.

“Nesta, why didn’t you tell me y/n was coming?” Feyre questioned, panic all over her face.

“I didn’t know. She usually sends word before she comes” Nesta claimed.

The conversation between the two sisters earned them a curious, yet worried look from the three males. Nesta stood from chair, hurrying to the door, but she was too late, y/n was now standing in the dining room, the smile dropping from her face and replaced by a shocked expression at the sight before her.

“What is going on?” y/n asked carefully and slowly.

“These are Feyre’s friends. We were not expecting you today” Elain replied.

“Y/n, it’s been a while. I’m so happy to see you” Feyre stood from her seat and hugged her sister, who was reluctant at first but returned the hug.

“You brought Fae-kind into our home?” it was more of a rhetorical question, but Feyre answered anyway.

“Y/n, this is Cassian” she inclined her head to the male with long hair “Azriel” she pointed to the male who y/n could’ve sworn was the most handsome man she’s even laid eyes on “and Rhysand, high lord of the Night Court” Feyre finished introducing.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you” Rhys said with a warm smile.

“I’m sure” y/n sneered, returning her gaze on her sisters “you still haven’t told me what’s going on and why the very same race we despise are now in our living room, dining with us” y/n tried making sense of the situation.

Feyre explained the situation, why they were here, what they needed from the sisters and the threat posed by Hybern.

“So the moment you became fae, you chose to forsake us?” this was all y/n could utter.

“I’d never do that. Me being fae doesn’t change that. It never will. You’ll always be my sister” Feyre assured her.

“If you did, you wouldn’t have brought THEM here. Hatred aside, do you have any idea of the danger you just put Nesta and Elain in?” Y/n turned her hand into a fist, her knuckles as white as they could be, trying to keep her temper in check.

“There was nowhere else to go” Feyre claimed.

“And you were alright with this?” Y/n turned to face her other sisters.

“I wasn’t, but Elain agreed” Nesta informed her.

“Feyre’s right, there-“ Cassian spoke.

“Who are you again?” Y/n glared at him “I’m too tired to deal with this now” she rubbed her temples and said to no one in specific “call me when they’re gone”.

“Uhm, they’re-“ before Nesta could finish the sentence, y/n was already gone “-going to stay for a while” she sighed.

“I take it, this is your eldest sister” Rhys asked.

“I told you she could be intense” Feyre replied.

“That’s one word for it” Cassian expressed and was met with a glare from Nesta.

—-

Thinking they had left, y/n descended the stairs, dressed in her nightgown and robe, seeking out a comforting cup of tea in the quiet atmosphere of midnight. Opening the backdoor leading to their garden, she leaned against the door frame, admiring the stars as she sipped her tea. She took a deep breath appreciating the tranquility and solitude the night provided. She could’ve sworn the shadows moved, but she dismissed it believing it was hallucinations caused by exhaustion from a long trip. Noticing a bright star in the sky, she lifted her cup up and uttered “cheers” a sad smile appearing on her face…

As she was locking the door, she glimpsed a figure in the shadows. This time, unable to dismiss what she saw, she called out “who’s there?”.

At first there was no response but she called out again “I know there’s someone here, so I suggest you come out” she demanded.

Azriel hesitated but complied “I apologize, I did not mean to disturb you”.

“What are you still doing here?” She covered herself with the robe, the gesture did not go unnoticed by Azriel.

“Your gracious sisters allowed us to stay here for a while” he informed her.

“Have they now?” she nodded, clearly displeased by the information she just received “how long are you planning on staying here?”.

“Not long. As soon as the letter is delivered, we’ll be out of your way, I give you my word” he politely said.

“Your word means nothing to me. And if you’re staying at someone’s house, do not sneak up on them” her words as cold as ice.

“I wasn-“ before Azriel could explain, she had left, making his jaw clench in frustration.

The following day, she went downstairs earlier to get some breakfast, but what was early for her, was late for others. Upon entering the kitchen, she found Rhys and Feyre engaged in a conversation with Elain, while Nesta and Cassian bickered over their tea. Azriel was standing in the corner and when he saw her enter, his whole body tensed, and Cassian and Nesta went still

“Good morning” Rhys greeted and was met with silence.

Y/n prepared her breakfast when Feyre approached her “how did you sleep?” Y/n just stared at her sister without saying a word. Once she was done preparing her food, she took it and left without acknowledging anyone’s existence. As Cassian and Nesta resumed their bickering, Azriel finally relaxed, prompting Rhys to speak again “not a good morning, I guess?” He joked.

“Oh believe me, this is a good morning. If you think this was something, then you really don’t want to see her angry” Feyre remarked.

“Is she always like this?” Cassian asked.

“Give her time. She doesn’t like strangers and she most definitely hates Fae-kind” Feyre reminded.

“Yeah, that was clear” Cassian said.

“You’re talking about her like she’s a bad person” Nesta defended.

“Nesta, you know that’s not what I meant” Feyre tried to explain.

“All I’ve seen you do since you got here is criticizing y/n. She’s done nothing wrong” Nesta reminded.

“I’m sorry, but you know how y/n can be”.

“How? All she did was ignore you all, instead of engaging in a pitty argument that would hit your weak spots, and last I’ve known, she does not owe any of you anything. If you’re going to stay in this house, then better respect their owners” Nesta expressed.

“Nesta!” Elain said, clearly displeased with her sister’s tone.

—-

“Can I come in?” Nesta asked permission to enter y/n’s room.

“What is it now?” Y/n opened the door.

“I wanted to spend some time with you”

“Don’t you have guests to entertain?” Y/n crossed her arms.

“Elain and Feyre can deal with them. I’d rather stay here with you”.

“Fiine” y/n rolled her eyes but allowed her sister into her room.

“They already have a bad impression of you” Nesta told her.

“When did I ever care about what people thought of me? Let alone, what male Fae thought of me” y/n chuckled “it bothered you, didn’t it?”.

“Of course it did. I wouldn’t allow anyone to speak badly of you”.

“They’re just words spoken by irrelevant people. When you acknowledge their words, you make them relevant. Remember Nesta, you decide who you give power over you”.

The next day, Feyre, Rhys and Azriel were absent from the kitchen when y/n arrived “oh, for fuck’s sake, how do you two find the energy to fight this early in the morning?” Y/n asked, clearly awoken by the sound of Cassian and Nesta arguing.

“It’s noon” Cassian corrected.

“Whatever. If you’re gonna argue, do it outside. Hearing your voice gives me headaches” y/n uttered.

“And here I thought my voice was soothing” he sarcastically said.

“Don’t. Just don’t!” Cassian’s attempt at humor was met with y/n’s annoyance.

“Rough night?” he asked.

“More like a rough couple of days. Some people clearly don’t know how to be good guests” Y/n started making herself a cup of coffee.

“Well, maybe that’s because some people don’t know how to be polite hosts” he snickered.

“You know what? You’re not worth my time, if you want to argue, you have Nesta. She apparently has the patience for it”.

“Y/n” Nesta called.

“What? You do love arguing” y/n reminded.

“Wow, the two of you in the same house as poor Elain and Feyre, how did they survive?”.

“By knowing when to speak and when to shut up” y/n glared at him, taking her coffee and leaving and he said something.

—-

“What now?” Y/n asked as Feyre called for her sisters “We can leave soon to mail our letter” informing them.

“And this concerns me how?” Y/n asked.

“I-I thought you’d like to go with us”.

“Why would I do that? No, thank you”… “wasn’t there one more of you?” Y/n asked, pretending to just have realized Azriel wasn’t present.

“He had to return early. We had an altercation this morning” Feyre explained.

“Altercation?” Y/n narrowed her eyes,

“It’s nothing”.

“If you’re trying to hide it, then it is something”.

“She was attacked” Rhys claimed.

“What? By whom? And you call THIS nothing?” Y/n started checking her sister for injuries and both males’ eyes widened in surprise.

“I’m fine. I’m not hurt”.

“Who attacked you?”.

“It’s rather a what. She was attacked by a creature called the Attor who was sent by the king of Hybern” Rhys informed her “don’t worry, Az is taking care of it”.

To his surprise, she only nodded.

“I changed my mind. I’m coming with you” y/n announced.

“Don’t tell me it’s because I was attacked” Feyre smirked.

“Oh, shut up!” Y/n nudged her with her shoulder.

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tsunami-of-tears · 1 month

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Wingspans

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

Cazriel x Healer Reader

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

Pairing Masterlist

Wordcount: 3.2K

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

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

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

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:

Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s also the quirks during sex.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your wings are mesmerising,” you say softly.

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, you make a cute face when you're concentrating, I didn’t want to interrupt. What are you reading?” Azriel walks around to your side of the desk, looking down at the scrawled handwriting filling the pages in your hands. He smirks down at you. “Is there a particular reason that you’re so obsessed with wingspans, Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————

The next time, you tried it with Cassian.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————

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

The first time you met Emerie, your heart broke.

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

They were beautiful but brutal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

��———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nods hesitantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Victoria nods in thanks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What kinds of wings?” Cassian asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cramped is a severe understatement.

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s the point,” Cassian chuckles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes… Please,” you whine softly.

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

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

You nod in answer, already struggling for words.

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

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

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

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

Azriel starts thrusting, matching Cassian’s timing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cassian pulls out of you first, collapsing beside Azriel.

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

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

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

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･

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

#poly+acotarweek2024 #poly+acotarweek2024 d5 #poly!acotar #cazriel x reader #acotar #acosf #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #a court of thorns and roses #acotar oneshot #acomaf

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dreamofjoys · 1 year

Text

𝐈 𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐔𝐏

— summary: 5W1H of twst characters eating you up

— characters involved: leona kingscholar, malleus draconia x female reader

— cw: oral sex (female receiving), public sex, fem reader is clothed in leona's part, face fucking, fingering, malleus has long forked tongue, dubcon (but reader is implied to be enjoying and loving every moment), jealous malleus (kinda possessive)

— a/n: my god this is like my secondary school english class brainstorming answers for my essays lol (but that's literally what im doing rn so...)

what happened

leona had you pushed against the wall, lifting your legs up to rest on his shoulders while he lifts up your skirt, using a finger to slide your panties to the side, revealing your pretty pussy to him. he wasted no time diving in to the feast in front of him, making sure to give a long and slow lick before tongue fucking you. his grip on your ass is tight, making sure to push your cunt to him so that he could shove his tongue deeper into you and get a taste of you at your most sacred place. you could only grab onto his mane and moan his name like a slut, grinding onto his tongue shamelessly and begging him for more. if it gets too much, you wouldn't be able to do anything since he had you pressed against the wall. between him, you and the wall, you are definitely the weakest. so just present yourself to him and let him devour you till he is satisfied

where did it happened

in an empty classroom

when did it happened

2 hours after potionology class ends

why did it happened

he was held back for 2 hours by crewel just to take make up lessons for the ones that he missed. his stomach was already growling like crazy because ruggie was sick today and didn't get him lunch. after crewel left, he was preparing to leave too until you came in looking for him. with his stomach growling like a mad beast, he needed something to satisfy his hunger now

who was involved

it's obviously just you and leona. his not a big fan of sharing his private life with other people, except for you of course

how did it happened

the moment he sees you, he just asked if he could eat you there and then. you were confused, thinking that he wanted to do it at his room, so you agreed, and he immediately started feasting on you in that empty classroom

bonus scene

"a-ah~ leo, wh-what if hnng someone comes in?" you asked your lion boyfriend who is currently still obsessing over your cunt, lapping on all your juices while you sit on his shoulders and take everything that he gives. leona hums in response, the act alone sends waves of vibration into your cunt. he doesn't bother replying. instead, he hoist you up higher with one arm while the other snakes under your skirt. he inserts two fingers to join his tongue in assaulting your poor cunt, making your gasp as he rips out what seems to be your 6th orgasm of the session. "wa-wait, i don't think i can come anymore-" another knot released, your essence spilling all over leona's face, not that he mind. it doesn't seem like he plan on stopping soon, so you could only hope and pray that no one sees the both of you in this state..

what happened

malleus had you pressed in a mating position. your knees were pressed onto your chest as the fae prince pins both of your wrist down at the back of your knees with merely just one hand. your clothes were already discarded on the ground, exposing your bare form to the dark creature. malleus makes sure to take a good look at your pink puffy pussy that was already leaking in anticipation. he chuckles, already excited about the next sequence of event. pushing a finger in, you moan in delight when you felt his sharp claw grazing over your sensitive spot. once he confirmed your sweet delicate spot, he removes his finger from your cunt, swirling his tongue around his stained finger to get a taste of you. it wasn't long before he starts tongue fucking you, earning a scream from you

where did it happened

at diasomnia's lounge room, on the couch

when did it happened

midnight, around 12am, after most students had went to sleep

why did it happened

he was jealous at one of the jokes that his dorm member made so he felt territorial and wanted to mark you as his

who was involved

you and malleus..... and maybe lilia who has super hearing and can hear whatever that you guys are doing from miles away..

how did it happened

you were just casually sitting on the couch chatting away with a random year 1 diasomnia student about the school romance. the student had made a joke about how he would date you if you weren't dating his housewarden. unfortunately for the poor soul, malleus had just stepped into the lounge room and had heard everything. the student started sweating profusely before apologising and running back to his room. you noticed that malleus was just quietly staring at you, so you awkwardly stood up and offered to make some ice cream for him. it was then he step in closer to you and started tugging at the ends of your skirt..

bonus scene

it's unbelievable how this man can just spilt you apart with just his tongue. malleus's long forked tongue had proved to come in handy as it nestles itself deep inside your cunt, giving kitten kisses to your cervix. your walls were pulsating on his tongue, and malleus wanted to laugh when he was reminded of the events earlier. who would be able to make your little hole gush like a waterfall? who would be able to make your little hole open up like a needy slut? who would be able to see you in this state? only him. malleus is the only person who can make you feel this way, and see you in such a vulnerable state. "ma-mal! im comin-" and just like that, you milked on his tongue like a good little girl he expects you to be. he retreats back his tongue, licking his lower chin that was stained with your fluids before swallowing them down. malleus gives you a toothy grin when he noticed your red face. strong heavy arms lifts you up as he carries you bridal style, gathering you in his embrace. "beloved, we should continue this back in our room. don't worry, i will make you feel so good that you wouldn't think about anything or anyone, except for me."

#twisted wonderland #malleus x reader #malleus draconia #malleus smut #leona smut #tw smut #tw dubcon #twst smut #twst malleus draconia #twst malleus #twst malleus smut #leona kingscholar x reader #twst leona kingscholar #twst leona #malleus x y/n #fem reader

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