#acotar males

[surielstea]

Trick or Treat

Selected: Treat

Pairings: Rhysand, Azriel, Cassian, Eris, and Lucien x Fem!Reader (Separately)

Summary: A series of SFW one shots all pertaining to a very cozy Halloween.

Warnings: None. All fluffy goodness!

Rhysand

"Come on, all the candy is gonna be gone!" Nyx's voice rang through the house, his little legs bounding down the hallway as I tried my best to finish zipping up his costume. At four years old, my son was bursting with excitement to finally go trick-or-treating. The big event had been all he could talk about for weeks.

"Hold still, sweetheart," I said gently, trying not to laugh as Nyx wriggled, barely containing his energy. He was dressed as a tiny bat, his little wings on his back fluttering as he moved. His eyes, the same color as mine, shone with uncontrollable excitement.

"I am holding still." he declared, though he was clearly doing the exact opposite. "We have to go get candy, Momma!"

I smiled, managing to get the zipper up at last. "There we go, all done. Now go show your father how handsome you look."

With a squeal of excitement, Nyx darted out of the room, his wings flapping, propelling him slightly as he raced toward Rhysand, who was waiting at the front door.

I glanced at my reflection in the mirror for a final check of my own costume—a black cat, with fuzzy ears perched on top of my head and a matching tail pinned to the back of my fighting leathers. Rhys had been insistent that I dressed up, and this was the easiest thing I could come up with.

"Dad, look!" Nyx exclaimed, skidding to a halt in front of Rhys. "I'm a bat!"

Rhys knelt down to his level, his eyes gleaming with pride and affection. "A very scary bat," he said, playing along as he ruffled Nyx's dark hair. "You look perfect."

Nyx beamed, clutching his pumpkin-shaped candy bucket, but Rhys's eyes shifted toward me as I approached, taking in my costume with a smirk. "And you, you look perfect too," he teased, rising to his feet. "I don't know if I'll survive trick-or-treating with such a stunning feline on the prowl."

I rolled my eyes playfully, but my heart fluttered at the way Rhys was looking at me. "Don't forget the scary bat that's going to protect us," I said, nodding toward Nyx.

"I'm a very scary bat," Nyx chimed in, his wings flapping as if to prove his point.

"Yes, you are," Rhys agreed, scooping him up with ease and spinning him around, much to Nyx's delight. "The scariest."

Rhys set him back down, offering me his arm as we followed our son out into the crisp autumn evening. "Shall we, darling?"

I slid my arm through his, giving him a soft smile. "We shall."

Halloween was a prized holiday in the night court, aside from solstice, it was the only holiday that truly belonged to us. The streets were alive with children in costumes, laughter, and chatter filling the air as families moved from house to house. Nyx's wings flapped excitedly as he skipped ahead, his small hand occasionally reaching back for ours to guide him along.

"Look, Momma! Pumpkins!" Nyx pointed to a house decorated with glowing jack-o-lanterns, his eyes wide with wonder.

"They're spooky, aren't they?" I asked, squeezing his hand as we made our way up the path to the front door.

Nyx nodded eagerly, still staring at them as he rang the doorbell. The door creaked open, revealing an older woman with a smile on her face.

"Well, aren't you the cutest bat I've ever seen," she exclaimed.

Nyx puffed out his chest proudly. "Trick or treat!"

She dropped a few pieces of candy into his bucket, and he grinned up at her. "Thank you," He said with a wild grin, not noticing the way the older female now stared at me and Rhys in shock, the High Lord and Lady on her doorstep.

"C'mon, we've got more houses," Rhys said, grabbing Nyx's hand, either he didn't notice either or he was too unbothered to care.

As we walked back down the path, Nyx peeked into his bucket, clearly pleased with his growing candy collection. "This is the best night ever!" he declared.

Rhys chuckled, slipping his arm around my waist as we strolled behind him. "I think he's enjoying this more than I expected."

"I think you're enjoying this more than you expected," I teased, nudging him gently.

He raised a brow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "What gave me away?"

"The way you keep sneaking glances at him like he's the only person in the world," I replied softly, my heart swelling as I watched Rhys's gaze soften again.

"Well," Rhys said, his voice warm and intimate, "He's one of the best things that's ever happened to me."

I leaned into him, my heart full. "And the other?"

Rhys glanced down at me, his violet eyes sparkling in the fading light. "You, of course. Though I have to admit," he added, slipping his hand lower, his fingers toying with the tail of my costume, "this might be my favorite version of you yet."

I gave him a playful swat, though I couldn't suppress the grin spreading across my face. "Behave yourself. We've got a little bat to take care of."

On queue, Nyx turned around with a spring in his step. "Come on, more houses!"

We continued through the neighborhood, stopping at each house as Nyx eagerly rang doorbells, shouted his "trick or treat," and ran back to us with his ever-growing stash of candy. At one point, he paused, looking up at me with wide eyes.

"Momma, can we eat some now?" he asked, holding up a candy bar.

"Not yet, sweetheart," I said, kneeling down to his level. "Let's wait until we get home. Then we can all have some together, okay?"

Nyx pouted for a moment but quickly brightened when Rhys chimed in, "I'll make us some hot chocolate to go with it."

"Hot chocolate and candy?" Nyx's eyes lit up. "That sounds yummy!" It sounded like a sugar high that would have him bouncing off the walls.

We finally made our way to the final house, but by the time we reached the doorstep, Nyx's wings were drooping a little, Rhys using his magic to ensure they didn't drag on the ground, the boy's energy starting to wane after the excitement of the evening.

Rhys glanced at me, a knowing smile on his lips. "I think our little bat is running out of steam."

I chuckled tiredly. "It's about time."

Nyx rang the doorbell one last time, his voice quieter now as he called out his trick-or-treat. The male at the door smiled, dropping the last handful of candy in her bowl, into his bucket.

"Thank you," Nyx said, his voice sleepy but happy nonetheless.

As we turned to head home, I could feel Rhys's hand slide into mine, his fingers warm and reassuring. "You know," he said softly, his voice just for me, "I think this is the most perfect night I could have asked for."

I squeezed his hand, leaning my head against his shoulder as we walked. "Me too."

When we arrived back at the house, Nyx was barely awake, his candy bucket clutched tightly in his small hands. Rhys scooped him up, carrying him inside as I held the door open.

"I think someone needs to go to bed," I said, smiling down at our son as his eyelids fluttered.

"But, hot chocolate," Nyx mumbled, already half asleep.

Rhys chuckled, pressing a kiss to Nyx's forehead. "Maybe tomorrow, little bat."

We tucked Nyx into bed, his costume still on as he snuggled into his blankets. As I brushed a kiss against his forehead, I whispered, "Sweet dreams, my love."

Azriel

The cool autumn air nipped at my cheeks as I glanced around the yard, admiring the cascade of orange and yellow leaves fluttering in the breeze. A blanket of fallen leaves covered the grass, and the pumpkins scattered across the porch stood out like bright little beacons of autumn.

Today was pumpkin carving day—a long-awaited tradition for me, and a newly introduced one for Azriel.

I eyed him from where I sat, sitting cross-legged on the porch steps, my tools laid out beside me. Azriel was already at work on his pumpkin, and to my utter amusement, he'd chosen a tool I hadn't expected: Truth Teller.

The revered blade gleamed in the waning light, slicing into the pumpkin's tough skin with effortless precision. I had to bite my lip to stifle my laughter as I watched the way he wielded it with all the seriousness of a seasoned warrior. Carving pumpkins with a sacred blade? Of course, Azriel would make even this casual activity into an art form.

"Are you sure you want to use that?" I asked, grinning as I gestured to Truth Teller. "I don't think the pumpkin is a worthy opponent."

Azriel glanced up, his golden eyes crinkling with amusement. "It's handling the job just fine."

I couldn't help but snicker. "Are you going to take it into battle next? I can see it now—Azriel, the Pumpkin Slayer."

He paused, tilting his head as if considering the idea. "It would certainly be a new addition to my title."

"The Spymaster with a penchant for gourd warfare?" I teased, wiping a bit of pumpkin guts off my hands. "Sounds very intimidating."

"Don't mock the artistry, love," he said with a smirk, twirling Truth Teller in his hand before driving it back into the pumpkin with a flourish. "This requires precision."

"Oh, I can see that," I agreed, my eyes drifting to the intricate pattern he was already working on. "But why not use, I don't know, an actual pumpkin carving knife?"

"Where's the challenge in that?" he replied his voice light but laced with that cool, unwavering confidence he always had.

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. "I think you're overcomplicating things."

Azriel just raised an eyebrow at me before returning to his masterpiece. Despite my playful banter, I had to admit his carving was impressive—lines smooth and clean, the pumpkin yielding to his every cut as if it knew better than to resist.

I dug into my own pumpkin with the decidedly less sacred and far more ordinary knife I had in hand. "So, are you going for something spooky? Classic jack-o'-lantern?"

Azriel hesitated for a moment, his fingers still wrapped around Truth Teller's hilt. "I haven't decided yet. What do you think?"

I pretended to ponder it seriously, tapping my chin. "What about the night sky?" I suggest. "Moons, stars, the whole shebang."

"The night sky?" His lips twitched in amusement.

"Yeah, it's shadowy and brooding—just like you."

His laugh was soft, the sound warming me from the inside out. "I'm not that brooding."

"Mhmm." I shot him a playful look, wiping my hands on a towel. "I'll believe that when you wear something other than black."

He shook his head, the smallest of smiles playing at the corner of his mouth. "I'll consider it. When you stop insisting on decorating everything in orange."

I gasped dramatically, placing a hand over my heart. "Orange is the essence of fall. It's a tradition."

"Tradition or not, our entire living room looks like it's been overtaken by pumpkins and leaves."

"Well, it's either that or I break out the glitter for winter," I warned, smirking as I saw him visibly flinch at the word "glitter."

"No glitter," he said quickly, the mirth in his voice unmistakable. "Anything but that."

"Then you'll endure the pumpkins," I said sweetly, before turning back to my carving. "Besides, I happen to think they look adorable."

Azriel said nothing, but when I glanced over, I caught him watching me—his eyes warm, his usual guarded expression softened by the easy comfort we'd found in each other. There was something about these quiet moments with him, something grounding about the way we could tease and laugh and exist together, free of the weight that usually clung to him.

"You're staring," I teased softly, meeting his gaze.

"I can't help it," he murmured, his voice dropping to that hushed tone that sent shivers down my spine. "You're beautiful."

My cheeks warmed, and I nudged a piece of pumpkin in his direction to cover my flustered smile. "Flattery won't distract me from the fact that you're taking forever to carve your pumpkin."

"Perfection takes time," he said with mock solemnity, earning a giggle from me.

"So modest, too," I quipped.

Cassian

The glow from the TV casts eerie shadows on the walls, and I already regret my decision to let Cassian pick the movie. I clutch the edge of the blanket, biting my lip as the creepy soundtrack builds up.

"You're not scared, are you?" Cassian's deep voice rumbles next to me, amusement clear in his tone. His arm rests lazily across the back of the couch, but I can feel the heat of his body beside mine.

I scoff, trying to appear unbothered. "Please. It's just a movie." My voice is steady, but my heart isn't. Not when there's a shadowy figure creeping across the screen, ready to jump out and—

I yelp as the creature lunges, squeezing my eyes shut and instinctively burrowing into Cassian's chest, which rumbles with a low chuckle, and I feel his arm tighten around me, pulling me closer.

"Uh-huh," he teases, his lips quirking up in a smirk I can practically feel. "You sure you're not scared?"

I peek up at him, glaring. "I'm not," I protest weakly, though my body betrays me by staying firmly pressed against his side.

Cassian shifts, wrapping his arm fully around my shoulders, his other hand settling on my knee as he pulls the blanket over both of us. "If you say so," he murmurs, his voice soft now, but there's still that teasing lilt.

The movie continues, and every jump scare has me sinking deeper into Cassian's hold, my fingers clutching his shirt. He doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he seems to enjoy it a little too much, his thumb drawing lazy circles on my shoulder, grounding me in a way that distracts me from the terror on the screen.

"You're so cute in my arms like this," he whispers in my ear after another jump scare, his breath hot against my skin.

"Shut up," I grumble, though I can't help the warmth spreading through my chest at the sound of his teasing.

He grins, clearly enjoying himself. "You know, I could turn it off if it's too much for you," he offers, though we both know he's only half-serious.

"No way," I say stubbornly, forcing myself to focus on the screen again. "I can handle it."

Cassian chuckles, shifting us so that I'm practically curled up in his lap now. "Sure you can, sweetheart. But I'll keep you safe. Promise."

His words send a different kind of shiver through me, and I lean into him more, letting his warmth chase away the fear. Maybe scary movies aren't so bad—if it means I get to stay in Cassian's arms like this.

Eris Vanserra

The meadow stretched wide before me, its golden grasses swaying in the crisp autumn breeze. The trees on the outskirts were ablaze with hues of orange, red, and yellow, their leaves tumbling through the air like a promise of something magical. I breathed in the scent of damp earth and the unmistakable fragrance of apples that wafted from the orchard in the distance. It was a perfect autumn day.

But nothing compared to the sight of Eris Vanserra.

He sat atop his white stallion with the kind of grace and confidence only he could command, his billowy shirt rippling in the wind. The fabric, loose and white, tugged at his broad chest and arms as he adjusted his hold on the reins, the tall riding boots fitted perfectly to his legs. His red-gold hair, untamed and flowing like wildfire, caught the light, making him look every bit the regal and untouchable prince of autumn.

"You're staring," he said, a sly grin creeping up his face as his sharp eyes caught mine.

"Can you blame me?" I shot back, trying to sound more confident than I felt. The truth was, no matter how many times I saw him like this—so effortlessly captivating—my heart still skipped a beat.

With a quick click of his tongue, Eris urged his stallion forward. The rhythm of the horses' hooves on the forest floor is soothing, and soon, the world falls away, leaving just the two of us wrapped in the embrace of autumn.

"I think you love this time of year more than I do," Eris teases, his voice carrying through the wind.

"I just like seeing you in your element," I say, smiling softly. "You belong here."

Eris looks over at me, a tendril of fire curling around my wrist, up my arm. "I belong with you," he murmurs, his voice low and full of warmth as he looks back to where his horse was leading him.

My heart flutters, even though I know how busy he is, and how much responsibility weighs on his shoulders as the heir to the Autumn Court, he never fails to remind me that I am his constant, his sanctuary.

We ride in comfortable silence for a while, letting the serenity of the forest envelop us. The trees around us seem to glow under the setting sun, their leaves casting a golden light across our path. The smell of damp earth and pine fills the air, and I close my eyes for a moment, soaking it all in.

"Look," Eris says softly, and I open my eyes to see him gesturing toward a small grove of apple trees, their branches heavy with ripe fruit. I smile at the sight.

Without hesitation, we guide our horses toward the grove. Eris dismounts first, his movements swift and effortless, and then offers me a hand as I climb down from my mare. His touch lingers for just a second longer than necessary, his fingers trailing down my arm the way his fire had before he lets go. I step closer to one of the trees, reaching up to pluck an apple from the branch. It's cool in my hand, its skin glossy under the fading light.

"I remember the first time you took me apple picking," I say, biting into the fruit, its sweet juice spilling over my lips. "You were so serious about it," I mumble through a mouthful

Eris chuckles, leaning closer and wiping the juice from the apple off my chin, watching me with that familiar look of amusement. "It's tradition," he says, his voice rich with nostalgia. "And I wanted you to enjoy every part of it."

"Well, you certainly made it memorable," I reply, staring up at him with a love-sick kind of smile. "Especially when you tried to out-pick me."

"I wasn't about to lose to you," he says, crossing his arms with a smirk. "Even if you were unfairly distracting."

I roll my eyes, stepping closer to him. "You're lucky I love you."

"Very lucky, indeed." He tilts his head down at me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, then cradling my jaw with a reverent touch.

I rise onto my toes and place a gentle kiss on his lips, one of my hands on his chest for support. A warmth settles over me that has nothing to do with the setting sun. It's the kind of warmth that only Eris ever made me feel, and that warmth didn't so much as flicker as a cold breeze breezed past us.

Lucien Vanserra

I had just slid the last tray of buttery pastries from the oven when the bell over the bakery door chimed, letting in the cool autumn breeze. I didn't need to look up to know who it was, Lucien always carried that earthy, slightly smoky scent no matter where he ventured.

"Evening, love," My mate said whilst hanging up his coat.

"Hi Honey," I smiled up at him while taking my oven mitts off and tossing them onto the counter.

It was late, shopkeepers closing up for the night and silently making their way home on the cobblestones of Velaris. Tomorrow was the debut of my Autumn Menu that I had been developing and revising for the past few months, I had been so stressed about getting everything together that I had completely forgotten about me and Lucien's date night last week, he had told me it was fine, that I shouldn't be worried about him when I was so busy with the bakery, so this was a compromise, I could finish the pastries while Lucien kept me company—and as my official taste tester.

Lucien leaned against the counter, watching me intently as I arranged the freshly baked pastries on a display tray. His golden eye gleamed in the warm glow of the bakery lights, and he was as familiar in my little shop as the scent of vanilla and caramelized sugar. He reached for one of the pastries, his fingers hovering over the flakiest, most tempting treat of the batch, but I swatted his hand away with a laugh.

"No," I teased, drawing the word out and raising a brow. "They just came out, they're too hot."

He frowned, feigning an expression of utter betrayal. "Fire runs in my veins, I think I can handle it." He smirked. "But you already know that, don't you?" He added in a tone that made my heart flutter and my eyes roll.

The humor faded, replaced by a soft sincerity that warmed me more than the oven ever could. "I've missed this—just us here, the world quiet outside." He confessed.

I finished arranging the pastries and brushed the flour off my hands before sliding around the counter to stand in front of him. "Me too," I murmured. "It's been such a crazy week. But I couldn't do this without you." I say as I watch him push off the counter, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me into a warm embrace. For a moment, I just melted into him, letting myself relax for the first time in what felt like days. "I'm proud of you," he said softly, his voice a comforting rumble against my ear. "Tomorrow, everyone in Velaris will be lining up to try your autumn creations, and they'll be back every week until the trays are empty. I can feel it."

I couldn't help but smile, drawing strength from his confidence. Lucien always had a way of grounding me, reminding me why I loved what I did, even when the pressure was high. I tipped my head back to look at him, brushing a kiss along his jaw. "Thanks, Lu. But you know," I added with a mischievous grin, "if you're so set on getting a taste, I suppose I could make a little exception."

His eyes lit up as I turned back toward the tray, picking the perfect pastry. I held it up to his lips, watching as he took a careful bite, his eyes fluttering closed as he savored it.

When he opened them again, a look of pure bliss had settled over his face. "Amazing," he declared. "Absolutely perfect."

I felt a sense of relief and joy bubble up within me. "Really?"

"Really," he assured me, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to my lips. I tasted the buttery, delicate sweetness of the pastry mingled with his warmth, and my heart gave a little flutter. It was moments like these that reminded me how grateful I was to have him as my mate, my support, my everything.

Read the NSFW version here -> Link

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[chairofchaos]

Corsets for some ACOTAR Males

Because I said so. (Here you go @daycourtofficial @ninthcircleofprythian @dusk-muse) This is entirely vibe based.

Azriel

Solid black for the spymaster. Easier to hide the bloodstains when he goes from torture sessions to official events. elegant simplicity contrasts nicely with Eris'

Cassian

I don't think commentary is necessary here. Still, this color.... mmhmm you get it.

Eris

(this, but red, with serious GOLD embroidery in the solid parts and bronze hardware). Also probably not a white shirt.

Lucien

In any color, honestly, but this design. The man is versatile he can handle the solid pattern.

Rhysand

I think this combo works for Rhysie. Truly.

Tamlin

For official events, he's nice and crisp. He's wearing a green and gold jacket, don't worry about a lack of color with this. He's accessorizing, and this is the statement piece.

[mybestfriendmademe]

Hilarious

GOLD STAR FOR YOU

Acotar Crack Headcanons

In which Reader introduces gold star stickers in the bedroom. Reader x everybody. Poly type deal. And it is most definitely a competition. There are sticker charts. Gold prize - for the male with the most stickers? A week alone with reader. No interruptions. No sharing.

(This crack list is brought you especially by the shared brain rot with @chairofchaos . Please enjoy our devolution into smut headcanons that tonight has brought us.)

Azriel:

Confused at first

When he realizes he’d be SO into the competition element

So competitive

“How many does this get me” as he’s just pounding

“And this?”

It devolves because you stop being able to give him stickers

“What about this, baby? What if you can’t walk tomorrow? How many stickers do I get then?”

You can’t do a damn thing about it as the sticker sheets fall from your hand

But when you’re done

The two of you curled up together

You take the whole sheet and start giving him stickers, one by one

He’s smirking as you line them up in rows along his chest and arms

Then you finally put one on his nose, grinning as you recall the feeling of his head between your legs

“It was that good, huh? Maybe we’d better try to one up ourselves. See how many stickers I earn from you then.”

Helion:

Catches on quickly

He goes out that day to buy his own sticker sheets

Likes to give them to you too

Gives himself gold stars for how often he can make you moan

“Yep… that’s another one FOR ME”

Gives zero fucks about the overall competition

He just likes being in competition with himself

Puts the stickers on his nipples like pasties with a shit eating grin

Eris:

You reach back to place a sticker on his thigh

He stills immediately

When you explain it, he’s so hurt about being interrupted

“What the fuck? What is this childish game?”

“Do not place your shiny sticker on me, woman.”

“I am doing sexy things here – leave me be”

He peels it off his thigh, sticks it on the small of your back and keeps going

He still kisses the star when he’s done

“So the stickers are a no?”

He’d sigh and kiss your forehead

“Just tell me first next time. I don’t like surprises.”

Cassian:

Has monkey brain - is super into it

“STICKERS? SAY LESS”

Adds his own prizes to the mix

Is competitive but really just cares about making you feel GOOD

The stickers and prizes are just a bonus.

Walks around shirtless just to show off his stickers

“These are my rewards! Don't you like them?”

He has a sticker chart on the back of the bathroom door where he collects his stickers at the end of each day.

Eventually he just starts sticking them to random things around the house - mirrors, his daggers, the kitchen cabinets.

Lucien:

You give him a sticker on the forehead during oral

his little mechanical eye like gleams at you as he SMIRKS

he’s like 'hmm what's this?"

He takes one off the sheet and does his little smirk and the star just GLOWS

he sticks it on you down there

because he LOVES TO EAT

gives a little predatory grin as he crawls over you to move to the next thing

Tamlin:

Gets distracted by you placing the sticker on his shoulder

Pauses mid thrust

“No no dont stop”

“What… what is that?”

“It’s a sticker. You’re doing a good job. Keep going”

“... what?”

He’s so confused

He doesn’t keep moving

You take the sticker back - “You stopped moving. You stop. You lose the sticker.”

He does NOT like the stickers

“Please put them away.”

He’s very butthurt over losing his only sticker

Immediately flaccid

Rhys:

Isn’t a part of the competition

That male is interested in Feyre and Feyre ONLY

Hears about the competition from Azriel

Immediately goes to Feyre

“We need to buy gold star stickers.”

“Why?”

“Trust me, Darling. Gold. Stickers.”

Your next visit to the river house becomes an adventure of finding all the places where the two of them left stickers while Rhys grins and Feyre rolls her eyes with a laugh

Your favorite find is under the tablecloth, where it’s next to a golden paint smear

“We recreated our mating night for the anniversary,” Rhys whispers to Cassian conspiratorially

He’s intentionally loud enough for all of you to hear

He doesn’t really understand the rules 

He just likes the idea of putting the stickers everywhere him and Feyre fucked so he can show off.

[geniemillies]

doodled high lord tarquin and some.. soon to be high lord vanserras question mark????

there are actually no buttons in prythian. i confiscated all buttons all laces. all shirts.

[oristian]

LUCIEN VANSERRA — LORD OF FOXES

I simply needed more Lucien on my feed. Taking guesses on whose hand is feeding him the grapes. Also found on my Instagram ( here )

ART CREDIT — @/conchetujoon

COMMISSIONED BY — @oristian

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST

[yaralulu]

Cassian calling eris a coward two minutes after finding out beron tortures him was kind of an insane take i’m not gonna lie.Not only did he find out beron tortures his sons but that eris was willing to get tortured to keep the night court’s secrets and cassian still had the nerve to call him a coward for wearing a mask to protect himself and his court.Sounds familiar cassian 🤨???

“Cassian didn't need to be a courtier to know his next words would slice deep, but it would be a necessary wound” yeah i’m not sure that’s really necessary considering he just got tortured by his DAD so maybe shut the hell up.I hope eris is even meaner to cassian next time he sees him just to really get him doubting if it’s really just a mask 🤗.

[domesticandlovingmonsters]

Pick Your Romance Starter- Dark Fae Addition

Plot/Story: Oh no, you've fallen into the Fae Realm through a circle of mushrooms. How convenient, I mean inconvenient! And look, there's some hot Fae men wanting you're attention...how so very clique. But they're not all flowers and sunshine. That would be too damn easy, wouldn't it?

Warnings: Dark Fae, slight non-con touch, blood, 10k words

Notes: The dry-spell has finally worn off and I present to you a little morsel of writing.

Poll is 'here' (Patreon) and here (Tumblr)to choose which character is written for first!

Poll has been finished! Hezirus got the pick. Here is another poll to choose what type of spicey story you want with him.

This is all based on a world built together with a friend. The characters are OCs of mine we play with and use in our stories together. And for your amusement, and torture for my friend, I have started a series where you pick which one I write for first.

This will be a heavy female x male character story. I apologize to my MxM and FxF readers. But I do plan on making these three fuck eventually. Just because it's fun. 

And by all means, give me ideas and feedback. I crave the attention!

Enjoy!

The sharp iron-like smell filled your senses and you felt yourself falling. The warm night air turned bitterly cold and the light from the street disappeared into a wall of black. You blinked. The wind whooshing around you was as loud as a hurricane; before your feet slammed onto stone and you stumbled into something hard and cold. And everything went unnaturally quiet.

You opened your eyes. Blinking rapidly to remove the haziness from your vision as you reached out, calling for your friend. It was dark. Too dark for your eyes just yet.

Your fingers found the cold bars of something circling you. Your hand followed it until you pushed away and stood on your own two feet. Swaying a little, the alcohol still affected your body even as the adrenaline coursed through you.

Finally, after some more blinking and squinting into the dark, your eyes adjusted. And horror filled your stomach as you looked around you.

You were in a cage. An iron cage in the center of a dark room. The floor, the pillars, the walls, all made from gray, smoothed stone. Dust layered the ground like a blanket around your small prison. And thick, but empty, cobwebs lined the corners of the room.

It didn’t look like anyone had been in here for…a very long time.

Your eyes caught the faintest touch of blue light on the floor and you looked down. Finding a glowing ring of sigils carved into the floor, fully encircling your cage. And everytime you moved, the strange letters pulsed with energy and that sharp smell filled your nose once more.

Something in you whispered that it was the same diameter of the mushroom circle you had jumped into… And with that thought, horror filled you. It had happened. It actually…worked. But not in the way you expected.

You don’t know how long you stood in that cage for, calling out into the darkness. It was long enough that the effects of tonight's drinks had worn off and the feeling of dehydration was starting to kick in.

The cold of the room settled on your skin like ice. And you tried to huddle up as much as you could, trying to preserve as much body heat as possible. But the cold iron and the freezing stone was sapping away at your warmth like a hungry beast.

Eventually, just as you started to think you’d be in this dark room forever, a door opened. One you didn’t see at the far end of the room that spilled bright, warm sunlight into the shadows. Making the twilight scatter and your eyes hurt from the blinding rays.

“Well, well, well, I thought all my little traps had been sealed off.” A velvety voice echoed from the doorway. The very sound settled on your skin like the breeze of an autumn afternoon. “What a surprise, indeed.”

Something shifted to your right but when you looked, only darkness stared back. Hiding behind a stone pillar, escaping the bright morning light.

You blinked until the sunlight stopped blinding you and the stranger approached. His boots echoed in the empty room as he closed the distance. His face silhouetted by the soft glow of the blue circle at his feet.

He was handsome. Very handsome. The type of handsome you would take a second glance at because you weren’t sure if your brain properly processed his face. His hair was a slight mess, a dark but silky tangle of blonde and deep brown. Matching a gaze that was fixed, but curious. And you felt every inch of your skin alight with a cold fire when those copper coloured eyes raked over your body. Not an inch of you was left untouched by his gaze. And it left you a little breathless when he smiled.

But your mind was racing. A voice deep within your mind was telling you to run. To hide. Get away from this man and never look back.

“What’s your name, sweet thing?” The man asked. The softest curl of a smirk twitching the corner of his lips.

But you didn’t give it. You weren’t stupid. And you remembered what happened. You jumped into a ring of mushrooms and suddenly you were falling. Even if you could blame this on a drunken dream, you still didn’t give this man your name.

When you didn’t reply, the smirk stretched fully across the stranger's face. “Ah, so you’re smart. That’s cute. I haven’t had a smart one in a long time. Come along, then. Let’s get you cleaned up. You’re exactly what I need to make up for my little blunder last night.”

The cage groaned around you and three of the metal bars slid into the ground. Allowing you a doorway to step out of your small prison and into the stream of light from the door.

The stranger didn’t look at you as he led the way out of the cold stone room. But still addressed you as you stepped out into the light. “My apologies for leaving you in that cold room all night. We had a little…accident, and I was busy until this morning.”

The man led you into a long corridor of more stone. Though the temperature was vastly more welcoming than the room, it was just as empty and just as dusty. You passed many doors like the one from where you landed. Some were left open, revealing more empty areas with a single cage. Others were closed but something dark marked the metal entryway. It looked suspiciously like old blood.

If this stranger saw you staring, he didn’t give any move to answer your unspoken questions. He led you up a spiraling staircase and a door of heavy carved wood and granite, creaked open before he touched it. Opening up into a sprawling room of many desks and shelves and cabinets.

“Clean her.” The stranger said. And from beneath the desks, dark tendrils launched towards you. Black, clawed hands wrapped around your wrists and ankles. Icy cold fingers latched onto your throat, squeezing just enough to silence the scream of fright from your lungs. Iron strength yanked you forward, making your attempts at fleeing fruitless as you were dragged towards a large basin.

More arms of shadows rose from the stone floor and you watched as steaming hot water was poured into the tub. Buckets of water manifesting from darkness and then disappearing when dropped to the floor.

You didn’t get to take a breath before you were lifted and then dumped into the basin. Hot water burned your skin and drenched your clothes. You gasped for air, but a cold hand slammed your head back under the water and you felt harsh bristles scrape over your bare skin. Something sweet smelling poured onto your hair as your head was yanked back out of the water for a brief moment

You coughed and spluttered, barely getting a breath in before you were dunked back into the water.

Your clothes were torn away. Despite your best effort to keep them against your skin, the material ripped apart under the strength of these shadowy limps. You wrapped your arms around your chest, obscuring the man’s beautiful gaze from seeing too much.

His smile was too sweet. Too wide as you were finally released and you turned your back to him. Your skin burned from the brush and soap. Your hair felt silky and smelled like a field of freshly bloomed flowers. But you were completely bare in front of him.

“That’s much better.” The man said. Leaning against a desk nearby. His molten gaze took in every inch of you before he waved his hand and a shadow presented him with a dress. “Wear this. It suits you much better than…whatever else you were wearing.”

When you didn’t get out of the tub, the man sighed and rolled his eyes. Then he turned around so he was leaning against the desk with his palms on the surface of the table. “I won’t look. Go on, try it on.”

You hesitated. But already the water was starting to get cold and you couldn’t sit in here forever. Curled up and shivering. You sighed heavily and carefully slipped out of the water.

Another shadow appeared beside you with a towel. But it didn’t allow you to take it. Instead, it dried you off, harshly rubbing the soft material against your body until your skin felt sore from the material. But dry.

You grumbled a curse towards the man and snatched the dress from the floating shadow.

Surprisingly, the man kept his word and didn’t turn around. Until you were in the dress and staring down at yourself in horror.

The material was thin…extremely thin… You might as well stand in front of him naked without the gentle glimmer of the sparkly dress. And it was very tight. You could see every curve of your breasts and hips, down to your thighs before the dress spilled out around your feet like a bronze ink spill. The only saving grace to this material was that it darkened around your chest and lower center. Refusing to give a full, clean picture of your body that was hidden beneath the dress.

It didn’t stop the perked peaks of your nipples from the cold air. And the stranger hummed a low sound in his throat as he adjusted the sleeve of the dress and picked at some imaginary lint on your waist.

“Much, much better.” The man said. He started to circle you. His eyes scraped over your body as you stood frozen under his gaze. He picked at the dress and the shadows appeared with trinkets and jeweled chains. Your wrists were wrapped in silk and your neck was decorated by a thin, delicate silver chain with topaz stones resting warmly against your neck. A belt of lace loosely circled your hips and your cheeks were assaulted by a dusting of red. Giving you a small blush before cold hands grabbed your face and the man stepped closer.

His forefinger lengthened, growing a black claw that came to a dangerously pointed tip. And you tried to yank yourself away from him but the shadows held you firmly in place. You could only watch in growing horror as the dark talon descended towards your eye…and cautiously drew a line along your upper lashes. Then the man delicately did the same on the other. Giving you a perfect dark eye-liner flick.

The man then stood back. His other hand held your chin as he tilted your face back and forth, admiring the touches he did to you. The shadows relaxed when you did. And you allowed this stranger to do what he wished with your face.

“What’s your name?” You asked him. Finding this close proximity with the handsome face was filling your chest with sharp flutters. You could see the finer details. The sharp, pointed ears. The tattoos under the collar of his shirt and the dusting of gold along his face. Perhaps a decorative choice?

“Jackal Borcalas, Royal Archivist and Spy Master of the Wilds” His smile was predatory. Proud. Cocky. As if the widening of your eyes gave him a sense of smugness. “But Jackal is fine, sweet thing. And yours?”

He said it so casually you almost willingly gave it to him. Like carrying on a normal conversation. But you clapped your mouth shut and glared up at Jackal. Rewarding yourself with a laugh from the Spy Master.

“Ah, well, you can’t blame a man for trying.” Jackal said, shrugging. Then his hands moved from your face down to your body. Adjusting chains and bracelets and anything else the shadows had placed on you.

But you found his hand barely touched you. His fingers brushed over your hips but didn’t linger for too long. The pads of his fingers glossed over your perked nipples but his eyes didn’t stray any longer than they needed. His attention was too focused on his task that you doubted he even knew where he was touching.

“Gorgeous.” Jackal purred. And despite the hungry look in his eyes, you sensed the genuine compliment behind his words. Or was that just a…Fae thing to get you comfortable around him. “Now, a few things before I throw you to the wolves.”

You felt the blood drain from your face with his words. And that wicked smile returned, alongside the cold touch of shadows as they wrapped around your legs and started moving them. You felt like a doll on strings, puppeteered after Jackal as he turned and exited the room.

Your captor led you into more corridors and halls. Many stone steps and coloured glass windows that bathed you in greens and golds and bronze. You didn’t get to look around. The shadows had you transfixed on watching Jackal’s back as he walked through…wherever you were.

“If you want to live through the day, you will follow these rules to the absolute letter. Do not look directly into his eyes. He gets…crabby when you do it for too long. And keep your hands off of him unless he places them somewhere. He doesn’t like to be touched. Do not turn your back on him unless he tells you to do so, and for the love of the Moon, do not touch his horns. Just…keep your hands to yourself unless you’re ordered otherwise.” Jackal said all this while he led you towards a massive metal door. The shadows relieved their hold just enough that you could finally look around you. But your gaze was transfixed on the entrance before you.

Towering above you was a grotesque, twisted display of melted weapons and armor. Swords Maces Axes Shields Any and all kinds had been liquified against the doors. You spotted helmets and chest plates carved through with spears. All dented, all worn, from battle.

“Oh, and also, for my later entertainment, keep yourself alive.” Jackal whispered, looking over your shoulder at him. “We haven’t had a human here in…centuries. So try to make your stay last a little longer than a few minutes.”

With a wave of Jackal’s hand, the war-torn doors opened with an ear-clawing sound of metal on the stone floor.

A blast of heat slammed into you as a voice as deep as thunder growled from within a dimly lit room. “What do you want, snake?” Your very bones vibrated with the voice. And a knot of fear coiled in your stomach as Jackal entered the room.

The shadows had you follow him and you entered a room that was more like a throne room. It was a vast space of furs and blankets. Blazing fires were cradled in braziers along the walls and candles flickered on hanging chandeliers made of bone and skulls. The scent of sulfur and burning meat filled your nose and you tried not to gag as you passed a body laying on the floor. Three deep gashes tore up the person’s back and blood pooled around their limp body. Their face twisted in agony and terror.

Jackal didn’t even look at it. He continued to stroll into the heated room towards a pile of furs and hides.

“I brought you a gift.” Jackal said. His voice echoing in the massive room. Mixing with the heavy breathing of something huge in front of you. The shadows didn’t let you go. They kept you firmly in place behind Jackal.

Something sniffed the air. And you felt the very air around you shift with each deep breath. You started shaking as the tiled floor trembled. The blast of heat came closer and closer. The heat in the room roared and you felt like your arms were being scorched by a blazing fire. Your ears popped and the tremble through the floor halted, but you heard the distinct sound of bare feet stepping over tile towards you.

And then Jackal stepped to the side and you were suddenly staring at a broad chest of muscle and scales.

The shadows released your head. Allowing you to look up, almost craning your neck all the way back, to meet a burning red gaze of a man. He was massive, much taller than 6ft and broad, rippling with muscle. Scars streaked across his arms and chest, giving a stark pale contrast to his dark complexion. A creature of war and battle.

But what was more terrifying was the plating of black scales that protruded from his dark skin. Horns swept out from atop his head. Splitting apart thick, shiny black hair that was braided amongst the crown of thick spikes. And his gaze was heavy. Watching. Calculating.

Jackal tsked harshly and you quickly dropped your eyes. Remembering what Jackal had said only moments before.

The man in front of you growled, a deep rumble that rippled through you like thunder. “A human?” A voice of stone sounded surprised. And you flinched when a massive hand wrapped around your waist, his fingers almost completely encircling your hips, and yanked you closer.

Black scales filled your vision as the man buried his nose into your hair. You felt him take a deep breath and the growl turned into something like a broken purr as the man laughed a cynical chuckle. “Is this your way of saying sorry, snake?” The scaled man snapped at Jackal. Releasing you before stalking over to the much smaller man.

Despite their size difference, and the display of bared teeth from the other man, Jackal remained perfectly calm. His hands resting behind his back as if he was having a casual conversation with someone.

“This is my way of mending my mistake.” Jackal replied slowly. “Hezirus will want her for himself. But I thought you should get some time with her before she’s claimed entirely. I thought it would be a nice…treat, Maahes, from me to you. From a friend.”

That word brought a snarl out of Maahes. Like he didn’t like how it sounded coming out of Jackal’s mouth. “Watch it, snake. You almost cost me my territory last night. A morsel won’t make up for that blunder.”

“Then let it be the start of my amendment to you.” Jackal titled his chin down in a submissive display. And whatever rage Maahes had, seemed to melt away. You felt the sharp tang of something hit your nose and suddenly the beast in front of you roared.

Claws raked through the marble pillar where Jackal had been standing moments before. Then you felt the shadows retreat and Jackal was standing in the doorway behind you. An amused smile across his lips

Maahes roared again, crimson eyes glowing with a surge of anger. “Keep your filthy magic out of my head!”

The doors slammed closed with a thunderous bang as Jackal laughed. Leaving you alone with a creature that was practically shaking with rage.

Your eyes swooped to the floor when the beast looked at you. You heard the click of claws as he approached. Two dark tree trunks entered your view and you realized he was standing right in front of you. He at least wasn’t naked, wearing a loose pair of dark trousers. But the thin dress did very little to make you feel protected at this moment.

“What is your name?” Maahes asked. You didn’t respond, cowering in front of him. The beast snarled and a rough grip wrapped around the underside of your jaw and forced you to look up at him. You kept your gaze from staring into the pools of rubies, looking at the scar that carved down his neck and to his collarbone. “I am not a Fairy, sweet morsel. I won’t use your name against you. What do I call you?”

You felt him lift you a little. Until you were standing on your tiptoes to stop him from choking you. “(y/n)” You managed to say. And the grip released you.

“Get me a drink, (y/n).” Your name rolled on his tongue like he was tasting you through those words. It sounded awfully sinful to hear it. And you quickly hurried over to the table by the dead body. Where an array of goblets and bottles were laid out. You choose the largest cup and fill it with an amber liquid. You had to carry it with both hands to ensure it didn’t spill and didn’t strain one arm too much. Hurrying back to Maahes, who had returned to lounge on the pile of furs. Which even his massive frame seemed to be swallowed by the vast mattress of pelts.

The beast rumbled. But it wasn’t an aggressive sound. You almost thought he sounded pleased as you carefully climbed onto the furs and offered him the wine. He took the cup from your hands. And as he pressed the wine to his lips, his free hand lashed out and took purchase of your hips before you attempted to step away.

You couldn’t fight him. The amount of strength beneath those fingers alone was enough to pull you towards him with barely any effort.

You found yourself flush against his side. His scales, rough and jagged, pushed painfully against your soft skin. And once you were positioned how he wanted, the hand moved down to cup your ass. His talons caught on the material of your dress as he squeezed hard. Making you wince a little.

“How did the snake manage to catch you?” Maahes asked. Placing his cup precariously on a position of the bed as he moved so he was on top of you. His nose scraped against your neck and you felt his teeth playfully pull at the silver chain around your throat. “Trapping humans was outlawed centuries ago. Did he say some pretty words and you were suddenly here? Or did you fall through a mirror?”

His words were surprisingly teasing for how rough his hands were on your body. The pads of his fingers were calloused and coarse, sweeping along your thighs before moving you so he could settle between your legs. He was massive above you. Obscuring the ceiling and bone chandeliers with his mass.

You explained what happened. Recalling the ring of mushrooms on the side of the walkway on your way home. The stupid decision to test fate and jump into the circle. Laughing, thinking nothing would come of it. And then accidentally said ‘we’ jumped in, and those crimson eyes pulsed intensely.

“There’s two of you?” Maahes asked. Glancing at the door as if Jackal was about to come through it again with another person. You said you didn’t see your friend in the cage and the man shrugged. Returning his mouth to the hollow of your neck. His lips sending goosebumps along your skin as his hot breath bathed along your chest.

It was a long moment of licking and hard nips along your neck before Maahes changed position. Burying his face against your breasts. Even through the dress, you could feel his mouth hungrily take in your left nipple and rake his tongue over the peak.

“No matter. I’ll feast on you first before I worry about someone else's pet.” You felt him shift against you and something huge and hard pressed against your clothed core. Then Maahes raised his mouth and a burning hot tongue seared along your neck, carrying the smell of wine and meat along your flesh, up to your cheek before your lips were harshly trapped between Maahes’.

Your struggling only seemed to amuse Maahes. As you tried to push him off and twist away from him. But just as he forced your lips open with his tongue, the doors to the room blasted open in a cold gust of wind. The flames around you simmered out under the gust and the chandeliers swung wildly above you.

Maahes growled and tore his mouth from yours. He poised above you like a beast protecting a kill. Thick arms caging you against the bed as the sound of his snarl ripped through you. You could feel the vibrations through your core, from where his covered bulge was firmly pressed against your core.

You turned your head, peering around Maahes’ arms to see a gorgeous man standing in the streaming sunlight. Like an angel, wings of bronze and gold framed his tall figure and a thick set of arms were crossed over his chest. Lines crinkled his perfect brow and long chocolate brown hair was kept away from his face by a gold crown of gnarled vines and flowers.

“Maahes,” The man said the beast’s name like a warning. But his tone was playful, teasing. “What have you got there?”

Maahes’ snarl crumbled into a softer sound. But he didn’t move from atop of you. His talons ripped into the furs as his hands turned to fists beside your body. “She’s mine.”

“Not anymore she isn’t.” The angel said. Stepping into the dark room, closer to the creature that was bent low over your frozen body. “I caught her scent on my way to breakfast. I don’t know how Jackal got her, but she’s a guest in my palace. I won’t have you break her on her first morning here.”

Soft, bronze eyes fell upon you and his smile softened. But those warning bells in your head were singing again. Even more so than they had with Jackal. “Give her to me, Maahes.” The man said, his wings opening a touch to make him seem so much bigger than he was. “I won’t ask again.”

The beast above you growled deep and threatening. You braced for something to happen. Another gust of wind. A fist. Claws. Something.

But then the heavy, hot weight of Maahes disappeared as he crawled off of you. And you scrambled off the bed to stand beside the winged man. Hiding behind him as his wing opened to protect you from Maahes’ heated gaze. “Good boy.” The crowned stranger said. A very careful smile placed over his lips. “Do not let me catch you playing with her again.”

Maahes’ gaze lowered to the furs. But you could see the tension in his body and the thick, throbbing vein that was protruding from his neck. He bowed. “Yes, Prince Hezirus.”

That seemed to be enough for the…prince. And he turned, his wing shifting to envelope you in a warm embrace against your back and guiding you out of the room.

The heavy doors slammed shut behind you both. And the wings of the prince moved to lazily return to his back. A different type of heat simmered in his gaze when the prince turned to you. A striking difference from the softness he offered you before. “Now, human, you will tell me how you got here. And why you’re…dressed the way you are.” Despite the quizzical tone, Prince Hezirus’ eyes were just as hungry and heavy as Jackal’s when you first got dressed. You instinctively tried to cover yourself but a narrowed glare from the person in front of you made you halt.

Your arms dropped to your sides as you explained everything. But this time, you kept the ‘we’ out of it. Only insinuating that you alone jumped into the very obvious Fae trap.

“But you know our customs,” The prince hummed. Tilting his head like how a dog did when it was intrigued by something. “You won’t give me your name. You even called the circle a trap. So…you knew what it was.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. The drunken stupor of a joke was now very obviously a suicide sentence. “I didn’t think it would work.” You argued. “I was…drunk.”

“Superstition has kept your people alive longer than you’d think. You should start listening to your fable stories, there’s a reason they exist.” The prince began walking and you hurried to follow. The tall man, possibly as tall as the beast on the furs, didn’t shorten his strides to let you keep up. Instead, you had to fasten your steps to almost jog alongside him.

“Where am I?” You asked. Finally looking at your surroundings. There were large paintings that covered the towering walls. The ceiling looked like marble with many hanging candles and torches to illuminate what the sun couldn’t. Massive glass windows bathed your walk with the prince in color. But at least this time you could see the shapes of beasts and battles and fields of flowers as you passed them.

It was all very beautiful.

“You’re in the Fae Wilds. My kingdom.” The prince replied. His chin tilted up with pride as he spoke. “I am Prince Hezirus of the Wilds. Son of Queen Melusine, the Lady of the Forest. You’re in my palace in the deepest forest of our kingdom. My…holiday home, I guess you would call it.”

You stalled for a moment to peek through one of the windows. Spying the grounds of the estate that sprawled out in grassy knolls and flowing creeks that sliced through lush gardens and tumbled through the gnarled roots of mountainous trees.

There were people working in the gardens and some walked the earthy paths through the estate. Someone even started flying into the branches of a nearby tree. With wings like an insect.

A soft cough from the prince made you turn. Finding him standing by the cliff of a long stairwell that led down and into the center of the palace. You quickly hurried back to his side and started descending next to him.

“It’s beautiful.” You said. Unable to keep your eyes on one thing at a time. A man walked past you both, bowing deeply to the prince before walking briskly away. His features reminded you of a rat.

“Thank you. But you will have time to see everything soon. I want you to join me for breakfast.” The prince said. And you followed him down a corridor and into a grand hall. A long table was presented before you. Its surface was chock-full of plates and bowls of food. All steaming, like the dishes had just come out of the oven.

At the end of the table sat a beautifully crafted chair of twisted roots and vines. The cushions looked as soft as clouds and a plate of sourdough bread, bathed in eggs and bacon with a drizzle of white sauce, was sitting awaiting the prince.

Hezirus waved his hand and a chair pulled itself from the table next to the prince. And Hezirus gestured for you to sit, before he flicked his hand and the chair pushed you snugly against the table. A plate was placed in front of you by an owl-faced woman and the prince seated himself in his chair.

Leaning his cheek on his fist, propped up by his elbow on the table, he watched you curiously. “Please, eat. Enjoy.”

The smells of everything laid out in front of you was maddening. Your stomach twisted in hunger and the slight hangover that had plagued you with a headache, wished for water. But you didn’t reach for any of it. And watched the prince take his gaze off you just enough to take a bite out of his egg smothered bread slice.

“So now you start to believe in your fables?” The prince asked. An amused smile twitching his lips as he chewed. “I do not need to charm you to keep you here, lovely thing. You may eat freely. This food is not poisoned and untouched by magic. Other than what is needed to prepare certain dishes.”

You still didn’t reach for anything. Not even the water. Which sat chilled in a glass pitcher in front of you. Like it was teasing you. You shook your head. “Thank you. But I’ll skip breakfast.”

The prince’s eyes flashed gold and suddenly you were reaching for the water. You tried with all your might to stop yourself from pouring a glass, but your hands worked just like they did when the shadows had hold of you.

Puppeteered.

Helpless.

You tried to cry out as your fingers brought the glass of water to your lips. But your body defied you. And you sipped cleanly, without choking, a long draught of water down your parched throat. Once you had placed the glass down you felt your body return to your control and you stood. Almost knocking the chair over as you jerked away from the table.

“Like I said, I do not need to charm you to make you stay.” The prince said. As if you had asked about the weather. So casually glossing over what he just did. “Your tales of us are true…in some sense. But we hold more power than we allowed you to believe. Please. Eat. You look like you’re about to pass out. And I won’t tell you again. You won’t like it if I have to do it myself.”

It was true. You could feel the edge of your mind falling into a dizzy spiral. And the thought of you passing out in front of him made the hunger turn to fear. You shook your head, clearing it, and sat down before your legs gave out. And begrudgingly served yourself some pancakes.

And it was the best thing you’ve ever eaten. Whether it was because of hunger, or the Fae chefs, it was delicious. Even the fruit you ate was sweet and juicy. Perfect. Also too perfect.

But if you didn’t eat, you were sure he’d probably force you too. So, you gave in. As much as the logical side of the brain was screaming at you to stop.

The prince’s gaze never left your lips as you ate. His eyes were persistently on you, even as he devoured his own breakfast and poured a cup of something that smelled strongly of coffee.

“Did Jackal explain anything to you before he shoved you into a room with a horny Drake?” The prince asked. An eyebrow raising when you told him of the rules Jackal gave you. And you added on that you were meant to be a treat, as a means of amendment from Jackal.“At least he wanted you to live through the morning. And yes, Jackal made a small mistake last night. Maahes exaggerates, it wasn’t so bad he’d lose his territory. He’s just angry he lost a bet at all. You were lucky I found you before Maahes went too far. I do enjoy it when Maahes is rough with me. But your delicate body would snap apart the moment he pulls down his pants.”

The rush of heat that exploded in your body, crawling up your neck and into your cheeks made the prince chuckle. “That’s adorable. But also very dangerous. Don’t do that around Maahes. If he gets whiff that you’re into things like him, you’ll be chained to his hips and riding his cock until your body breaks.”

You tried to argue. Maybe say something that it wasn’t arousal, but shock at the prince’s choice of words. But the prince shot you a look that silenced your rebuttal before it began. “I can smell it on you, pet. Don’t even try lying to my face. It won’t end well for you.” His words carried a threat that made your skin crawl with a chill. Even if his tone was light and teasing. Something in his gaze had your heart racing.

“What are you going to do to me?” You asked. You wanted to know, so you could at least brace for whatever was about to happen to you. How many books have you read about similar scenarios? You had the hot, sexy men part ticked off. A strange, weird place in the Fae realm, checked. But this wasn’t a romance. You were just left to the mercy of a creature with scales. Given a hint at the power that could make you do anything the man in front of you wanted.

Your life very much was in danger right now.

“Hmm, I’m not sure yet.” The prince said. Leaning back in his chair as he regarded you with a critical eye. Like he was appraising a piece of art. “But I’m sure you’re asking if I’m going to kill you. Eat your bones. Turn you into a…I don’t know. What do we Fae do to humans? It’s been centuries since I’ve talked to one. But you never forget the scent.” The prince breathed in deeply and released it slowly with a long sigh. When his eyes opened, his pupils were blown wide like he was intoxicated.

“Such a delicious fragrance. It used to drive me mad in my youth. The lust. The hunger. Oh, fuck, the sex…” The prince finally looked at you again. As if suddenly remembering you were there and had asked a question. “No, dear pet, I am not going to kill you. Some of my court might try. But I’ve already ordered them that you are to be untouched. Left only for me to squeeze.”

He flashed you a smile that made his already handsome face become even more beautiful. “Anyone that tries to force themselves on you will meet my wrath. You are welcome to wander the palace. I do suggest staying as far away from Maahes as possible. And don’t go into the gardens until-”

“If I may, Hez.” The sudden voice of Jackal made you jump as he appeared by your side. Seeming to appear out of thin air as he joined you at the table. Sitting to your right. “I suggest we keep her caged until the staff and court get used to the scent of her in the estate. Already there has been enough unrest that Maahes has had his fill of Fae blood. She will be safer in the dungeons until you solidify the order for her to remain untouched.”

The prince played with the fabric of his tunic as he thought over Jackal’s words. His eyes following the line of your neck to your shoulders and then to the material that smothered your breasts into a perfect soft mound. “You make a good point, Jackal. However…because it was your trap that brought her here, she is your responsibility.”

Jackal’s jaw twinged as he glanced at you. “Hez, I cannot afford to be distracted from my work. I cannot continuously check on her in the cells-”

“Then have her in your office until you ensure she won’t be touched down there.” The prince smiled. A sense of amusement flashing over his face as he winked at you. “Jackal will take fine care of you until I have time for you, pet. Stay close to him and do what he says.”

A sharp scent ripped through your nose and you winced as your mind latched onto the words the prince spoke. An order. An order given by a Fae prince laced with…magic.

“I don’t think she’s stupid enough to try and run from me.” Jackal said. Sighing heavily as he took a sausage from one of the plates and took a bite from it. “Come on then, Lily. Time to watch me do paperwork for hours on end.”

“Lily?” Hezirus asked as Jackal stood. You felt your body follow suit. But it wasn’t anything like the cold touch of shadows or the constricting power from Hezirus. You wanted to follow Jackal. You were told to do as he said, and damn well you will do it.

“It’s not her name.” Jackal assured the prince. “She’s as lovely as a lily. So, that’s what I’ll call her.”

“Hmm, I don’t think that suits her.” Hezirus said thoughtfully. Tilting his head as he looked you up and down again.

“Well, she’s your pet. You pick a name for her.” Then Jackal smiled viciously and tapped the tip of your nose. “Or are you going to introduce yourself?”

When your glare was the only reply they got, the two men laughed and Jackal clicked his tongue. You followed him like a puppy on a leash, up many staircases and through many corridors. Until you found yourself back in the room you started in. Where the basin had now been emptied of water but the room still smelled of the shampoo in your hair.

“Sit.” Jackal ordered. And your body slumped into a wooden chair by a large desk. One that was covered in many long pieces of parchment and piles of books. A few empty ink pots were put to the side. While a stack of new ones awaited to be used. “You might want to get comfortable. You’re going to be here for a while.”

You looked around. Attempting to get comfortable in the wooden chair next to Jackal’s desk. Much unlike the plush, armchair-like seat he possessed, the wood was hard against your ass and the surface cold to the touch.

A few minutes passed as Jackal opened a few books and arranged them to stand in small holders to keep them open. He arranged paper out in front of him and then opened a thick, leather bound book by his left hand. You tapped your fingernails against the wood of the chair. Already insane from the quiet of the room.

“Can I have a book or something?” You asked. And Jackal scoffed a laugh.

“I doubt I have anything here that you can read. It’s all documents and spellbooks; all in languages you can’t read.” Jackal waited for you to argue. But when you didn’t give a rebuttal about knowing more languages than one, he left it to rest. “If you’d like to pass the time, you’re more than welcome to pass the time on me.” The smile was playful. Menacingly teasing as he smirked at you when your cheeks flushed pink.

“You’re not going to order me to do that?” You asked scornfully. And Jackal shrugged, plucking a quill from its seat in an ink pot and started writing.

“I could. Since Hezirus gave you the order to do whatever I say. Or I could force you to do it with my servants. But it’s not as much fun when the giver uses teeth and tries drawing blood every second.” At the word ‘servants’ the shadows from beneath the desks nearby came alive and crawled over the floor towards you. You pulled your dress away from the curious clawed hands and the room filled with whispered laughter as you gasped in horror.

Jackal tsked and the shadows scattered. Returning to being nothing more than dark spots under the desks. “Now hush, I have to concentrate.”

You must have dozed off somewhere after the third hour mark of sitting and doing nothing. The room was bitterly cold now and you shifted in your seat. Trying to find a comfortable position when a touch of fire brushed over your thigh.

You jerked awake. Startling when you came face to face with Jackal. Who had turned his chair towards you and was sitting almost directly between your legs. Both of his hands were coiled around your right thigh. Molding the cool skin with his fingers so gently that it almost tickled.

“Get your hands-”

“Shush, I’m thinking.” Jackal barked back. And the harshness of his voice froze you in place. Or was it the order to do as he says? You had no idea, but you knew that you were helpless in that chair as he squeezed your leg like he was kneading dough into shape. Scraping his palm along your skin through the velvety material of your dress. You had to lean back as he lifted your calf and draped your leg over his lap. You were left completely open to him in this position. But Jackal didn’t seem to notice.

He never went any higher than your upper thigh. His eyes were distant, staring at your chest but not actually paying attention to the shape of your cleavage. It was just the last place he looked before his thoughts trailed off.

You kept quiet. At least welcoming the warmth from Jackal’s lap and touch over your chilled skin.

Any longer here and you were going to freeze. You’d even welcome the harsh treatment of the hot bath just to warm you up. The dress was useless against the breeze that blew in from the open window. And the sun was beginning to go down.

Shit…have you already been here the entire day? No wonder your back was killing you.

Jackal startled you by humming and dropping your leg from his lap. Non-delicately letting your bare foot slap against the stone and you shuffled back onto the chair. He returned to his desk and started feverishly writing something down.

You stayed silent. Kicking your leg over the other to try and savor some of the tingling warmth from Jackal’s fingers. You hated how tenderly he had touched you. Because your core kind of enjoyed the attention.

The sky outside was pitch black and somewhere in the castle, you heard distant screams. It had started some hours ago and had long since lost its pitch. But the volume was still there. Telling you of the absolute agony that was ripping through someone.

“It’s no one you know.” Jackal assured you. Seeing your worried expression. “Maahes told me that there was a second human that jumped in the trap with you. And so far, I haven’t found them. Even if someone already claimed your friend, there would be traces of her. When a Fae consumes or fucks a human there’s…changes.”

That was at least comforting. But hearing such visceral cries turned your blood cold and nausea twisted in your stomach.

They were cut off rather quickly some hours after nightfall. And you weren’t sure if the silence following it was worse or better.

Jackal leaned back in his chair and stretched. Your eyes caught a glimpse of the toned body beneath the fine black tunic. But you tore your eyes away just as Jackal glanced at you.

“You’ve been rather quiet…Oh, right, I told you to shush. You can talk now. I don’t need to think for a bit.”

“I was going to say to get your hands off me.” You snapped. Suddenly finding an urge to speak now Jackal told you so. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

“But you’re so soft and warm.” Jackal practically purred. His arms hanging over the back of his chair as he stared at you. And this time, he really stared at you. With an intensity that had you looking away and a fresh wave of heat flooding your center. And that little nibble of his bottom lip was an added unfair flare.

“You’re disgusting.” You mumbled.

“I’m sure you'll change your mind eventually.” Jackal chuckled. The molten copper turned sharp once more as he returned them to the desk full of freshly scrawled paper. “If you were literate I’d have you read these so I can rest my eyes. But you’re unfortunately not that useful.”

“I can read.” You hissed and Jackal rolled his eyes. Lowering his arms so they came to rest on the desk.

“Can you read dwarvish?” Jackal asked. Then he clicked his tongue when you huffed a curse at him and turned your head away again. “Like I said, illiterate. Shame…it would have been cute having you sit on my lap while you read this over.”

“Fuck off.”

Jackal laughed and sighed. The breath was heavy as it filled his lungs. “I better get you to your cell before I let your arousal do anymore to me. Get up, little flower. And stay close. Maahes is wandering the halls looking for a chance to drag you under him again. And Hezirus is busy ensuring the court doesn’t devour you through the night. So, I’m all you have keeping you alive until we get you to your cage.”

You stood before your mind could think of doing so. And then you were walking beside Jackal through the palace, a step behind him. “What is stopping Maahes from…getting in my..cage?” It sounded weird to say. And you dearly hoped it wasn’t going to be a cage in the middle of a room like the one you appeared in.

“Hezirus.” Jackal replied, as a matter of factly. “Our prince holds alot of power. And not even a Drake as powerful as Maahes can disobey his orders while in his own home. He’ll try to lure you to his bed chambers, or the floor, I’m sure. But as long as you keep saying ‘no’, you’ll be safe.”

“That’s all that is stopping him from…you know…”

“Words hold more power here than your world, sweet flower. And Hezirus has explicitly ordered your words are the rules to your body. So, be mindful when speaking to anyone here. It might save your life.”

You trailed alongside Jackal as he took you deeper into the palace. Down even more stairs and corridors, until he stopped outside of a steel door. You weren’t stupid. This was a dungeon, deep under the palace. You could smell bile and filth from the other locked rooms. And the air was cold and thick.

But there were no guards here. Only the flickering torches along the walls and the soft, pained whimpering of the other prisoners.

“I had your cell cleaned before I brought you down here.” Jackal said. As if his words made it all better as the door to the cell opened without him touching it. Revealing a cramped, dark room. A cot was pushed into the corner. Merely a wooden pallet with hay stuffed into the crevasses and a thin blanket covering the splintering wood.

The pillow looked thin and splotched with gray marks.

“I’m going to freeze down here.” You said. Pulling at the stretchy material of your outfit. “This is barely going to keep me warm.”

“That’s Hezirus’ problem, not mine.” Jackal replied.

Then a hard cold force slammed into you and you stumbled into the cell. The door creaked shut and you heard a lock click into place. You rushed to the door as Jackal opened the little slit, allowing you to see his copper eyes through the darkness.

“Whenever Hezirus remembers his pet is down here, I’m sure he’ll provide you with all the best luxuries your little human body needs.” Jackal said with a roll of his bright eyes. “I, however, do not have time to babysit you at every minute. So, you’ll sit down here, in the dark, like a good girl until things settle. My servants swarm this place, so you’re safe. Just don’t make too much noise. Or you’ll attract some unwanted attention. Get some sleep, little flower. You’ll need it for tomorrow.”

You beat your fists against the door as the slit slid closed. Calling after Jackal in a colorful array of words and sentences. Some even got an impressed whistle out of the spy-master before you heard his boots disappear.

You retreated from the door when someone screamed from a nearby cell. The whispering laughter of shadows echoed through the darkness in response.

You went to the cot. The wood creaked under your weight as you curled up against the corner of the room. Gathering the thin blanket around you. Ignoring the itchiness from the hay and tried very hard not to think of bugs crawling in your hair or down along your arms.

You tried to stay awake. Something was moving beyond the cell door but it never came any closer. Someone would scream or start crying. Another would start begging. Only to be silenced by a harsh hiss that made your blood run cold.

You curled up tighter and closed your eyes. Hoping the sun would scatter the shadows when it rose.

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

The Continuation: Prince Hezirus: Chapter 1, Chapter 2 (Patreon)

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[the-darkestminds]

“Elain deserves better than Lucien.”

At no point during this entire series are we led to believe that Lucien isn’t a high quality, compassionate, and thoughtful male. ✋😤

[romanticatheartt]

People always be like "we want complex female character" but you bitches can't even handle Feyre, who has different sides and just because she's a mother now, you think she's completely disable to wield a sword...

She was a fighter long before turning to fae. She killed a fae wolf, 2 nagas, trapped a suriel several times (the very suriel Rhys tried to trapped and failed), killed an ancient wyrm and broke a 49 years curse all the while being a human. She has all the seven High Lords power and managed to kill many of Hybren soldier just to save Rhysand. She's mated to the most powerful High Lord and we all know 'like calls to like'. She went to the Summer Court and fight side by side with The Morrigan and never backed down.

But sure... she can't wield a sword now.

[zenkindoflove]

Artist: @jennastokesart | Instagram: jennastokesart

Eris Vanserra and my OC Alexius. I commissioned this to celebrate the end of my fanfic Pull Me in Deeper, and @jennastokesart absolutely blew me away. This is exactly how I picture them and they are both so beautiful and sexy. Check out under the cut for close-ups and more details, and you can read all of my Eris x Alexius works here.

Okay, but seriously? Have you seen prettier faces? I love Eris' pouty lips and snatched jaw line, and I'm obsessed with Alexius' beauty mark and subtle purple eyes shadow. They are the prettiest couple in all of Prythian. She really captured their dynamic perfectly in their expressions, with Eris more severe and intimidating and Alexius leaning towards mischievous and playful.

One of the things that I asked the artist was to incorporate the leather bracelets that they give to each other in PMID. You can see here that Alexius has the red leather strap representing Eris with the moon charm that represents Lunavalles. Eris' tan leather bracelet that represents Alexius is also visible just under his sleeve. Also peep the subtle hand-holding.

The detailing on both of their clothes is really spectacular. I'm especially obsessed with the more Autumn style blouse and corset that the artist gave to Alexius to go along with the Day Court Golden sash. She really mixed Alexius' masculine and feminine styling choices perfectly. And of course, I had to get a close up on Eris' cunty arm on his sword.

[icey--stars]

I just had the most wild realization. No clue if it’s been said before but…

We know canonically that Lucien can see through spells and glamors with his gold, mechanical left eye, right?

And we also know that Rhys tends to hide his “High Lord” powers under a glamor. I’d assume other high lords have something along the same lines.

Every time Lucien met with Rhys. Or Feyre. Or Tamlin. Saw Beron after Amarantha (maybe even Amarantha herself) - Everyone at the High Lord meeting in ACOWAR… Especially when tensions ran high. Magic tends to be more volatile with spikes of emotion. If anybody there had a glamor on their power (or anything really)…

He saw through those glamors.

And this male isn’t terrified at all?? Lucien needs some more credit for how much bullshit he puts up with 🤦

Anyway, realization of the night. Hope I blasted at least one mind into the stratosphere 😎

[surielstea]

Trick or Treat

Selected: Trick

Pairings: Rhysand, Azriel, Cassian, Eris, and Lucien x Fem!Reader (Separately)

Summary: A series of one NSFW one shots all pertaining to a very slutty Halloween.

Warnings: Minors dni | Dom/Sub dynamics | Cockwarming (Rhys) | Mask kink (Az) | Breath play (Az) | Objectification (Cass) | Semi-public—in a corn maze (Eris) | Praise/Degradtion | a lot of other freaky stuff probably

Smut under the cut.

Rhysand

"Rhys," I let out in an eager moan, my body aching for more, needing him to move, to do anything but this sweet torture.

"Watch the movie, darling," The male purrs from behind me, his chest against my back, his lips brushing my ear.

"Can't," I breathe, grasping at his thigh, needing relief. "Please."

"Please what?" He taunted, dipping his face into the crook of my neck, beginning to trail kisses up the side of it.

"Move," I whimper. "Please Rhys, want you to fuck me," I beg, eyes glued to the television as the horror movie’s plot quickens, the eerie music building.

"I will baby, I will," He hushed in a reassuring tone. "Just stay still and watch the movie for me, yeah?"

I nodded, slowly, but as the movie went on the pressure in my core built, in desperate need of friction, of any form of attention.

I willed myself to stay still, to watch the movie, even though all I could feel and retain was the sensation of Rhysand buried inside of me.

"You've been good," He praised, nipping slightly at the mark he left on my neck. "So good," He whispered into my flushed skin and a shiver crawled down my spine. As a reward for my good behavior one of his hands, settled on my thigh, began its course upward, slipping beneath my flimsy skirt to the apex of my legs where we connected. He gave no warning before he began rubbing my clit with his thumb, teasing me with circles with not nearly enough pressure.

"Rhys," I whimpered, my voice a wobbling plead.

"Shh, this is the best part," He hummed, ignoring the way I was arching into him. He grunted softly as I shifted, my sore legs screaming at me for being in the same position for so long. I let out a broken moan as I adjusted to the new angle, so deep, he was so deep inside of me, and all the emotion he had to show for it was a few strained grunts.

A whimper escaped me, my grip on his thigh tightening as he applied more pressure to my sensitive clit, his touch still maddeningly light, just enough to make my breath hitch but not enough to satisfy the need thrumming through my veins. "Rhys," I breathed, voice trembling as I fought to stay still, to hold out as he wanted.

He chuckled softly, clearly pleased with the way I was unraveling in his arms. His fingers moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm, building the tension higher, pushing me closer and closer to that edge. "You're so close, aren't you?" he whispered, his breath hot against my skin. I nodded eagerly. "Yeah? I'm making you feel so good, huh?"

I let out a needy moan, my body arching against him, the ache consuming every thought, every feeling, except for him. "Please," I gasped, no longer caring about anything but the desperate need to reach that high, to feel him fully, completely.

Rhys let out a satisfied hum, grabbing me by the hips and beginning to lift me up and down his length, his touch just rough enough to make me gasp as the pleasure crashed over me. His hands tightened, holding me steady as my body trembled in his grasp, his lips tracing soothing kisses along my neck, grounding me through every wave of bliss.

"That's it, darling," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction as he continued his slow, lazy strokes, coaxing every last spark of pleasure from me. "You did so well for me."

As I caught my breath, my head lolled back against his shoulder, a sleepy, satisfied smile on my lips. "Guess I'll need a replay of the movie," I murmured, feeling the warmth of his laughter against my skin.

Rhys pressed a kiss to my temple, wrapping me closer to him, his voice soft and full of promise. "Only if you're good enough to last through the whole thing next time."

Azriel

"Leave it on," I pant as Azriel reaches for his mask, grabbing his wrists. "Fuck me with it on." I plead, the rest of our clothes a pile at our feet. His eyes—the only thing I could see—crinkled in a smirk, drawing me forward and laying me out beneath him. He remained silent, not wanting to break my illusion, keeping the mask from his costume on, and spreading my legs.

I can only see his eyes, but they're smoldering, dark with intensity, and I can feel the heat of his gaze raking over my exposed skin.

"Please," I breathe out, arching into his touch, craving more of him. I can feel him everywhere and nowhere at once, his hands firm on my thighs, holding me open as if he's afraid I might slip away. But I don't want to. I'm here for him, only him, and I'm aching, wanting him to end this teasing game he's started.

Azriel's fingers press into my thighs, his touch reverent yet possessive. He shifts, aligning himself, his scarred hands sliding up, tracing a shiver-inducing path over my hips, my waist, up to my wrists. He captures them, pinning them above my head, his strength inescapable yet never brutal. I'm at his mercy, and I feel his power like a tangible weight, the thrill of surrender so sweet I can barely stand it.

"Keep your eyes on me," he murmurs, the first words he's spoken, a whisper like silk against my skin. His voice is rough, a hint of the raw edge that tells me he's holding back, barely. His grip tightens just slightly, a warning, and I nod, my breaths coming faster, harder.

And then he finally presses into me, slow and deliberate, every inch stretching, filling, consuming. A gasp escapes me as my body molds to his, and he pauses, his eyes boring into mine through the mask, watching, memorizing every reaction, every shudder. I'm laid bare, vulnerable, yet somehow invincible under that stare. It's as if he's reading everything I'm feeling, every thought, every desire.

"Good girl," he whispers. His words send a shiver racing down my spine, pooling warmth low in my belly. He pulls back achingly slow, then thrusts forward, the movement making me arch beneath him, a moan slipping past my lips as he sets a pace that's maddeningly restrained. Every roll of his hips, every press of his body against mine, feels like he's claiming me, branding me.

My wrists twist in his grasp, desperate to touch him, to feel his skin against mine, but he holds them firm, smirking down at me through that mask, an air of dominance that has me melting beneath him.

"Azriel, please," I beg, the words spilling from me unbidden, needy. I don't even know what I'm asking for. Just more. More of him, more of this.

But he only chuckles, a low sound that vibrates through me, his hand shifting to wrap around my throat, his grip pressing lightly, sending sparks of pleasured pain through my veins. "You can beg all you want, love," he murmurs, his voice a taunt, "but I'm going to take my time."Azriel's grip on my throat is light, just enough to keep me grounded in the wild intensity between us. He keeps his gaze on me, unwavering, his eyes hidden behind the mask's shadows yet somehow sharper than ever, every silent command pulling me deeper under his control. I can't tear my eyes away, as though looking anywhere else might shatter the hold he has on me, on my body, on every pulse that races through my veins.

He moves, his hips rocking in a slow, merciless rhythm, building the ache between my legs until I'm sure I'll unravel at his slightest whim. Every brush, every thrust feels like he's staking his claim, making me his. My wrists strain in his grasp again, desperate, craving the friction of my fingers against his bare skin, but he tightens his hold, keeping me still, a silent reminder of who's in charge.

"You wanted this, didn't you?" His voice is a rough whisper, his lips grazing my ear. The low, taunting tone makes me shudder, my breaths turning ragged as he rolls his hips deeper, hitting a spot that pulls a strangled moan from my throat.

"Yes," I pant, my voice barely a whisper as he continues his slow, torturous pace, pushing me to the edge, but not letting me fall. His control over me is absolute, and the way he's drawing this out has me desperate, wanting to pull him closer and scream his name, to make him lose control just as he's making me.

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound reverberating through my body, and I can feel his smirk in the way his lips brush over my jaw, feather-light and maddeningly slow. "Then you'll be a good girl and take everything I give you," he murmurs, his voice like velvet and steel.

I nod frantically, my body arching up to meet his, each roll of his hips sending shocks of pleasure through me. He releases my wrists finally, his hands skimming down my sides, possessive and deliberate, leaving trails of fire everywhere he touches. My fingers immediately find their way to his back, clutching at him, pulling him closer as if I can tether him to me, my nails dragging over his skin hard enough to leave marks.

Azriel growls, his hips snapping harder, faster, and I gasp, my body tightening around him, helplessly caught in the rhythm he's set. His hands are on my hips now, gripping me, guiding me into each thrust, his strength and presence consuming me, making me feel everything all at once. The tension coils low in my belly, building with each movement, each whispered word, each smirk hidden behind that mask that keeps his face shrouded in mystery.

"Azriel,” I gasp, the pleasure reaching a fever pitch, teetering on the edge of release. He senses it, his hands tightening on my hips, holding me firmly as he drives into me, his pace relentless, unyielding, his gaze locked on mine, silently demanding I stay with him, watch him.

"That's it," he rasps, his voice low, thick with his own desire. "Let go for me."

So I do, a cry escaping me as the tension shatters, pleasure flooding through my body, leaving me trembling beneath him. He watches every reaction, his eyes dark with satisfaction as he slows, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until I'm gasping, utterly spent, and completely his.

Cassian

"This is ridiculous," I grumbled from behind the foldable dressing screen, glancing at myself in the mirror beside me. "Utterly ridiculous." I huffed.

"Come on out sweetheart," My mate says in a delighted tone, making my rage double.

With a permanent scowl on my face, I stepped from behind the divider shielding me from his gaze, facing the grinning male.

"I hate this. It's a total objectification, why can't females wear costumes that actually cover their asses?" I complained, doing my best to pull the short fabric down. "I mean c'mon, a sexy warrior costume? It's a juxtaposition in itself." I gesture down to the revealing costume, the spandex bodysuit doing little to cover, anything really, and I was certain I've seen belts bigger than the skirt, which were really just flaps of a gold material, meant to look like armor. "I mean, who would ever think this is a good idea?"

"I do." Cassian immediately answered, his eyes anywhere but my own.

"Cass," I blow out a breath, clenching my hands into fists and rocking back on my knee-high boots with a string of curses. He finally made eye contact with me, a winning smile on his lips that I was certain couldn't get any wider.

"Don't give me that look, you lost our bet fair and square," He said, giving me a pointed look. I roll my eyes, ignoring him.

"C'mere," He sighed from his seat on the couch. I frown but approach anyway. Once I'm an arm's length away he reaches out, his hands on the backs of my bare thighs, pulling me closer.

He looked up at me and leaned his chin on my stomach. I placed my hands on his shoulders, slowly slipping them into his hair as he guided me onto his lap, straddling his hips—as well as his prominently hard length.

His gaze flickered with amusement, though there was something darker glinting in his eyes, a challenge that I couldn't help but rise to. Even through my embarrassment, I could feel the tingling thrill creeping over my skin, his hands firm against the backs of my thighs as he held me.

"Still complaining?" he murmured, brushing his lips along my jaw. His voice was that low, dangerous tone he always took on when he was trying to coax me out of my irritation—and, unfortunately for me, it was very effective.

"Yes," I snapped, though my heart wasn't quite in it. His fingertips trailed along my thigh, tracing small circles that sent shivers up my spine. "This costume is horrible."

"It's a masterpiece," he disagreed, tugging me a little closer, his grin nothing short of wolfish. "I think it fits you perfectly, and you're going to look fantastic in it tonight."

Tonight. The event at Rita's. I was not looking forward to strutting around the pleasure hall dressed like this while every other female was draped in beautiful gowns, covered head to toe. But, the bet was a bet.

I leaned back slightly, folding my arms and arching a brow at him. "And what exactly are you wearing, hmm? If I have to parade around looking like this, the least you could do is show a little skin too." I tease, pulling at the collar of his shirt to expose a small expanse of his golden, muscular chest.

"Oh, I fully intend to match." His grin widened. "But first," His hands traveled higher, sending heat straight to my core, and his eyes darkened, drinking in every inch of me. "We have a few hours before we need to leave, and I think you're too tense to walk around like this. Let me help."

I shivered as his fingers traced my waist, his hands slipping beneath the hem of the bodysuit, igniting my skin wherever he touched. His lips followed, trailing hot kisses along my collarbone, his teeth grazing as he worked his way to the sensitive spot just below my ear.

"Cass," I managed, my voice faltering as he nipped at my skin, that devilish smirk never leaving his face. He chuckled, pulling back slightly to look up at me, one hand reaching up to cup my cheek.

"Just relax, sweetheart," he murmured, his fingers tangling into my hair as he brought my lips down to his. "I'll make you forget all about that bet."

Cassian's hands explored beneath the costume, his touch deliberately slow as he traced the aching curves of my body. "Admit it," he whispered, his fingers tracing slow, lazy patterns down my spine. "You enjoy knowing that everyone tonight will be looking at you." His gaze locked onto mine, intense and unwavering. "Knowing they'll all wish they could touch you," He let the words hang between us, his hands drifting lower, his fingers grazing the exposed skin of my thighs with a feather-light touch. "But they can't. Because you're mine."

The possessiveness in his voice sent a thrill through me, and I felt my resistance crumble completely. I leaned into him, pressing my lips to his in a kiss that was anything but gentle, pouring all of my pent-up frustration and desire into it. He responded eagerly, his hands gripping my thighs as he pulled me even closer, his mouth devouring mine with a fierce hunger that left me breathless.

He kissed me with a passion that was both possessive and reverent. My fingers dug into his shoulders, holding onto him as he deepened the kiss, his mouth hot and demanding against mine. His hands drifted up my sides, gripping me through the skin-tight bodysuit and sending a shiver down my spine as he traced over every curve with a knowing touch.

"Cassian," I gasped as he broke the kiss, his lips trailing down my neck, his teeth grazing my skin in a way that made my breath hitch. His hands found their way to the small clasp at the back of the bodysuit, his fingers working deftly to undo it as he pressed a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses along my collarbone.

"Let me see you," he murmured against my skin, his voice thick with desire. The costume slipped from my shoulders, and he pulled back slightly to take me in, his gaze dark with unrestrained hunger as he looked at me.

I felt a blush creep up my cheeks under his intense scrutiny, but his expression held nothing but awe and reverence. He reached out, brushing a thumb over my cheek before leaning in to kiss me again, his hands roaming over my now-exposed skin with a possessiveness that made my heart race.

His lips found their way to my neck, then lower, trailing a path of fire down my body as he took his time savoring every inch of me. I arched into him, lost in the sensation, my fingers tangling in his hair as he worshipped me with his touch, each kiss and caress sending another spark of desire through me.

Cassian's hands moved with a confidence and skill that left no room for doubt, his touch firm yet gentle as he explored every inch of me, his lips following wherever his hands had been, leaving a trail of heated kisses that made me gasp and cling to him for support.

By the time his gaze met mine again, I was breathless, my skin tingling in the aftermath of his attention. He smirked, clearly pleased with himself as he took in my flushed, disheveled state, his hands still holding me close as he leaned in to press one last, searing kiss to my lips.

"Still think the costume is ridiculous?" he asked, his voice low and teasing as he pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, a smug grin on his face.

I could barely form words, my mind still clouded with the remnants of our heated exchange. "Maybe," I managed, breathless, "but I think you convinced me to keep it on. For now."

Eris Vanserra

"Eris," I breathed, struggling to keep composure with the way he had his hand pressed to my pulsing cunt, my back arching into his chest. "Not here," I whispered, anxiously scanning the area for any onlookers, but the corn maze we stood in was empty—while the maze was open to the public at all times, it was three am and Eris seemed certain we were the only ones in here.

"No?" He purred beside my ear, his hand past my skirt and rubbing me through my soaked panties. "The idea of getting caught, it isn't making you soaked for me?" I shake my head no. "Say it then," He demanded.

I frowned, unable to form the words, because in truth he knew how turned on this made me, the thrilling possibility of being caught, the anticipation leaving me dripping.

Eris chuckled deeply from beside me, his fingers adding a little more pressure, his thumb connecting to my clothed clit. I let out a quiet moan at the sensation, my body going taut. "That's what I thought." He smirked, walking me over to a bench of hay bales, and guiding me to lay down atop them.

He didn't drag on the foreplay much longer, he spread my legs and settled between them, hands slipping up my thighs, gripping my panties and shredding through them—my breath hitched at the idea of having to walk home with nothing beneath my skirt.

Eris tossed the torn fabric aside and leaned in, his amber eyes dark with desire. The night air wrapped around us, cool against my heated skin, and the rough texture of the hay scratched at my back as he settled between my thighs. His hands slid up, pushing my skirt further until I was entirely exposed to him.

"You're mine tonight," he murmured, voice dripping with promise as he nipped at my inner thigh, lips grazing against my sensitive skin. His mouth moved closer, and my breath caught when his hot breath fanned over me.

Eris looked up, catching my gaze with a wicked grin. "Look at you," he said, voice low, sending a thrill down my spine. "So eager and ready, even out here, where anyone could stumble upon us."

I opened my mouth to protest, but it was too late. His tongue pressed against me, deliberate and slow, and I couldn't help the strangled moan that slipped past my lips. My hands flew to the hay beneath me, fingers clutching it as he worked me over, every flick of his tongue bringing me closer to the edge.

Eris's grip on my thighs tightened as he picked up the pace, his hands holding me in place as he devoured me with the fervor of a man who knew exactly how to unravel me. I squirmed, breathless, my body arching into his mouth, desperate for more of his touch.

"Eris—" I gasped, voice breaking as the pressure inside me built, wave after wave, until I thought I might come undone right there on the hay bales.

He pulled back just as I teetered on the edge, and I let out a whine of frustration. His hands skimmed up my thighs, his fingers tracing teasing circles around my sensitive skin. "Not so fast," he murmured, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I want to savor this."

Without warning, he moved up, his mouth crashing against mine, tasting of sin and satisfaction. I could feel him pressing against me, hard and ready, and I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

"Impatient little thing," he murmured against my lips, positioning himself at my entrance. He pressed in slowly, deliberately, stretching me inch by inch until I was full of him, filled in a way that left me gasping.

His movements started slow, torturous, every thrust dragging against every sensitive part of me until I was writhing beneath him, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. He gripped my hips, angling himself just right, and I cried out as he hit that perfect spot, over and over.

"Quiet," he growled, his voice dark with need. "We don't want anyone hearing, do we?"

I bit my lip, nodding, though it was almost impossible to stay silent with the way he was making me feel. Each thrust sent sparks through me, each movement bringing me closer to the edge until I was teetering on the brink.

"Come for me," he whispered, his voice a dark promise, and that was all I needed. The tension inside me snapped, and pleasure crashed over me, wave after wave, leaving me breathless and spent.

Eris followed moments later, a low groan escaping him as he buried himself deep, claiming me fully.

We stayed there for a moment, tangled together, breathing hard in the quiet of the corn maze. Finally, he pulled back, a satisfied smirk on his face as he helped me sit up, brushing a stray piece of hay from my hair.

"See?" he murmured, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Nothing wrong with a little adventure."

Lucien Vanserra

Lucien's touch was everywhere, his fingers leaving streaks of dark green body paint across my flushed skin, each one a vivid reminder of his presence. The paint, cheap and easy to transfer, coated his hands and forearms from the Halloween party we'd come from, smearing onto me with every touch. Each brush of his hands, each powerful thrust, left a fresh line, almost as if he were marking me in a way that would last long after tonight.

I could feel the paint dragging down my sides, streaking across my jaw, and dotting my thighs as he spread my legs wider, his grip tightening until I was sure I'd feel his touch in bruises tomorrow. But I wanted it—I wanted to feel him, to wear these marks like badges, his possessiveness painting me just as much as his body was. When his hands gripped my hips with an intensity that bordered on desperation, his fingertips sinking into the flesh there, my back arched off the sheets in response. The once pristine white cotton beneath us was now as stained as I was, smeared with trails of dark green.

"Lucien," I gasped, air thick in my lungs as I gripped his long, red hair, my fingers twisting through it as I tugged, spurred by the overwhelming need pulsing through me. He responded to that touch, that pull, with a low groan, his thrusts only growing more insistent, more relentless.

"That's it, fuck, you feel so good," he growled, his voice rough, raw with desire. His mouth latched onto the column of my throat, lips, and teeth grazing the sensitive skin as he bit, sucked, and kissed along the exposed line of my neck. I threw my head back into the pillow, leaving myself open for him, letting the pleasure he was giving me flow freely, like a dam that had finally broken.

My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, my heels digging into his tanned back, urging him deeper. He shifted, and the new angle had me crying out, breathless at how perfectly he hit that sweet spot deep inside, each stroke deliberate yet utterly consuming. He was toying with me, his movements almost teasing, reveling in how he could make me writhe beneath him with ease.

With a wicked grin, Lucien adjusted his grip on my hips, his fingers pressing in just enough that I knew I'd feel his touch lingering long after the paint was gone. "Gods," he rasped, his voice thick with a hunger that mirrored my own. "You're taking me so well."

He leaned forward, his mouth trailing from my collarbone to my jaw, leaving warm, wet kisses in his wake. The scent of the body paint, mingling with his own earthy, masculine scent, filled the air, grounding me in the moment, and pulling me deeper under his spell.

"Did you wear that costume just for me?" he whispered, his teeth grazing the edge of my earlobe. For a brief, foggy moment, I tried to remember what I'd worn—a tight, dark dress that clung to every curve, a costume that had caught his eye from the moment I'd slipped it on, all of it meant to tempt him. Now, though, that seemed like a distant memory. All I could focus on was him, and the way he was dragging me to the brink.

"Only you," I managed to respond, my voice breaking as his pace deepened, his thrusts hitting harder, more intense. My moans filled the room, and he chuckled, a dark, satisfied sound that sent a new wave of heat rushing through me.

"That's my good girl," he murmured, his voice a rough, approving growl that shattered what little composure I had left. The praise sparked something in me, a desperate need for him to claim me completely, to fill every inch of me with his touch, his mark.

His thumbs pressed deeper into my hips, each movement of his hands adding new streaks of paint across my skin, his handprints smudging and smearing, as though he was branding me in his color. I could barely focus on anything beyond the sensation of him inside me, his body pressing into mine, his rough grip leaving trails of green along my ribs, and across my chest. I was his canvas, his masterpiece, and he was painting me with every thrust, every stroke of his fingers, every fierce kiss.

"You look good covered in me," he murmured, voice thick with a possessive satisfaction, his gaze devouring the sight of me beneath him, painted in his touch, his color. His hand drifted lower, wrapping around my thigh as he pulled me closer, his body aligning with mine in a way that made me gasp. Dark, messy lines streaked up the insides of my thighs, each one left there by his relentless grip.

As he leaned down, his hands came to rest on either side of my face, framing me, holding me as if I were something precious, even as he moved within me with a power that stole the breath from my lungs. His fingers, cool and damp with paint, brushed across my cheeks, his thumbs stroking gentle lines down my skin, leaving more traces of green. His mouth captured mine in a kiss that was searing, consuming, leaving no part of me untouched. The faintly earthy scent of the paint mingled with his taste, heady and intoxicating, making me feel dizzy as he filled every one of my senses.

The paint on his hands smeared along my jaw as his lips moved to follow, dragging a cool line down my neck, across my collarbone, until I could feel streaks trailing along my throat. The sensation of his palms sliding down my sides, smearing green across my ribs and waist, anchored me to him, to this moment. Each press of his hands painted me more thoroughly, my back arching into him as he moved as if my body was begging for every last trace of his mark.

When his body shifted, his fingers traced down my thighs, painting new lines in their wake, each touch leaving trails of dark green and filling me with a sense of being utterly, inescapably his. My body responded to him without hesitation, and I felt the pressure within me coil, tight and consuming, ready to break.

Lucien's hands never stopped moving, his fingers claiming every inch of me as his mouth grazed my shoulder, his breath hot against my skin as he whispered, "Come for me."

That command tipped me over the edge, and I shattered, my release crashing through me with a force that left me breathless, boneless. Lucien followed moments later, his voice a rough, broken sound as he called out my name, his body shuddering against mine as he finally stilled, both of us lost in the waves of pleasure that washed over us.

As we lay there, tangled together, my skin smeared with paint and his touch, I felt like a masterpiece—a living canvas painted in dark green streaks and handprints, marked in every way by him. Every smudge of color, every line on my skin, was a reminder of this night, a night I knew I'd never forget.

Read the SFW version here -> link

Replies and Reposts are always appreciated! ❤️

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[artinelysian]

Lucien Vaserra, the emissary of the Night Court, former emissary for the Spring Court, a son of Autumn, an heir of Day….and a simple man who forgot he needed sunscreen😂

See below cut for reference image and step by step process! *please note that the hand was traced. no I am not sorry, hands are bane of my existence*

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Warm Me Up

Summary: Illyria is cold, Rhys has some ideas on how to stay warm.

Content Warnings: Smut; dirty talk; little bit of cursing.

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

Illyria was a wasteland, nothing but frigid mountains and harsh winds, you'd never understood how anything survived here. Your mate had flown you in an hour ago, you'd immediately had to sit in front of the cabin's fireplace, smothered in blankets, a warm cup of tea in your hands to avoid your teeth chattering and your fingertips from turning blue. The boys were somehow training outside shirtless. You could see them from the window, sparring, even as the relentless wind continued to beat against the windows.

You furrowed deeper into your mountain of blankets, still so damned cold. How were they managing that? How had Cassian survived his childhood, alone and hungry in this for so long? Was there something built into Illyrians to help them survive?

You tapped a mental hand against the bond hesitantly, worried you might distract your mate and he'd get hurt... again. Rhys had gotten used to your random questions, but thd first couple of times had been so sudden he'd lost focus, Az had clipped him across the shoulder, drawing blood. It hadn't even scarred, had healed with the help of his powers in less than hour. He'd probably forgotten about it. You hadn't.

Your mate responded with a gentle caress against your mental shields, like he'd brushed a hand over you mind, urging you to come forward.

"Do Illyrians run hot?" You asked.

A dark chuckle ran across the bond, sending a shiver over your spine. "Why don't you come out here and find out?"

You rolled your eyes. "And freeze to death? No thank you."

"It's not even snowing yet.," he let your peer through his eyes, the landscape dripping from yesterday's rain, but it was more mud than anything.

"I've seen warmer places in the Winter Court."

"There are plenty of ways to stay warm up here," Rhys purred, his voice a playful caress against your mind. "You're welcome to join us in the birken when we're done."

"And leave the safety of my little nest by the fire? I'll have frostbite by the time I make it there."

"Give me five minutes." The bond snapped closed and then Cassian was screaming obscenities from where they were sparring near the side of the cabin.

"THAT'S CHEATING YOU BASTARD!" Azriel shouted.

"RHYSAND I CAN'T FUCKING SEE!"

You pulled the comforter off the top of your head to try and get a good look through the closest window, but there was nothing but darkness against the glass. It was still too early in the day for the sun to be going down, the darkness outside rattling against the windows like a harsh wind. Rhys very rarely unleashed that much power, but you felt your own flare to life in your chest at the sight of it. Like calls to like, and your starborn powers had always risen to the challenge it found in Night Triumphant.

It wasn't even a full five minutes before the back door was thrown open so fast the old wood cracked against the wall. The wind came in with it, making you burrow deeper into your mound of blankets to avoid it.

Rhys must have kicked off his boots at the door, because you heard it slam shut and then nothing until large hands settled on your blanket clad shoulders.

You jumped with a shriek of surprise that had your mate bending over the back of the couch to kiss your barely exposed forehead apologetically, his skin colder than the wind beating against the walls.

"Ack! You're an ice cube!" You hissed, twisting to get away.

He chuckled as he pulled away and went to the closet near the front door.

"Don't bother, I've already raided it," you warned.

He opened it anyway, then frowned at all the empty shelves. "You weren't kidding." His next move was to go to the stack of wood neatly organized by the fire place and throw more in, the blaze illuminating the sharp planes of his face. He wasn't wearing a shirt, training leathers hanging low on his hips, a fine sheen of sweat making his bronze skin glow in the firelight.

Under normal circumstances, you would have jumped right on him, ran your tongue over his abs, traced the swirl of ink across his chest. Something about him in leathers made you weak in the knees, all rational thought out the window. The only thing keeping you in place this time was the thought of loosing the little pocket of warmth you had created.

He felt your gaze of course, turning away from the fire to look at you. "Better?" His voice had gone down an octave, his pupils dilating.

"Little," you admitted, though him being so close, looking like that might have been more of a reason for the heat you were starting to feel than the fire.

He walked to you slowly, intently, violet eyes fixed on you.

Your heartbeat quickened in your chest as he knelt in front of you.

"Think you can make room for me in there?" He kept his hands on the top blanket of your little cocoon, waiting for permission.

"I don't know, how cold are you?" You teased; this would be the last little bit of your resolve.

He slid a hand under the blankets, fingers dragging up slowly, intently over your calves.

"Cold," you whimpered, but the shiver that ran through you had nothing to do with the temperature, not as he traced his way up your thighs, only stopping when he found the hem of your sweater.

He leaned and pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose first, then the corners of your lips, his breath warm against your face, the contrast between the two temperatures making your head spin. You wanted to reel away and lean in all the same time.

"Just for a second," he promised, "then I'll get you nice and warm."

You opened the blanket, and that intense violet gaze took stock of your attire: His old sweater, so loose and baggy it looked like a dress on you, and knee high, fuzzy pink socks. Pants had felt like a waste of time, not when sifting through the dresser meant time spent away from the fire.

Rhys all but jumped on top of you, pushing you down into the couch cushions, the blankets tangling between you as he crashed his lips against yours.

Rhys, as High Lord, was always so poised and put together, everything about him calculated and curated to create the necessary masks of court duties; but alone, like this, when it was just the two of you, no masks necessary, he let that unending restraint slip, kissing you and running his hands over your body like a man starved. His tongue swept into your mouth as he slid a hand under your sweater, deft fingers dragging up your skin to cup your breast.

He'd kept his promise about the cold, you'd only felt it for a moment before he'd settled between your legs, using a bit of magic to untangle the blankets and rearrange them over the two of you. You ran a hand through his hair, scraping your nails lightly over his scalp as he playfully gave your nipple a tug.

"Better?" He rasped, lips barely off yours like he couldn't bear to be that far from you.

The warmth of his weight on top of you would have been enough, but the way he kept running his hands over any bit of you he could reach, the way he kissed you again and again and again was enough to make you forget you had ever been cold in the first place.

"Much better," you confirmed as he broke away to nip at your neck.

He chuckled as you arched into his touch; whimpering lightly as his tongue laved over the sting of his teeth on your throat.

"Can't decide," he murmured into your skin, "if I should fuck you in my sweater or not?"

Heat coiled between your legs, even further when he rocked his hips into your center, even with the clothes separating the two of you, the friction was enough to make you moan.

He nipped under your jaw, "Look so pretty in it, but I gotta get you all warmed up don't I? My poor little mate, not used to the cold."

Now that he was with you, you wanted, needed, every bit of contact with his body you could get. The sweater, so warm and comforting before, now felt like a tremendously itchy obstacle keeping you from him. "Want it off," you complained, trying to find your voice around another moan as he rutted his hips into you again, hard even through his leathers.

He chuckled as he fisted the hem and started pulling it up your body. "Wear it again for me later?"

You nodded as he pulled it over your head and tossed it over the back of the couch. Distantly, you hoped Rhys had the good sense to send his brothers away for a little while since you had stopped hearing them moving around outside, but had no time to ask as he started kissing his way down your body, pausing to give some attention to your peaked nipples. A whine tore from your throat as he swirled his tongue over one and then the other.

"Love when you make those little noises for me," he purred into your mind, not wanting to remove his lips from your body to speak.

"Rhys," you whimpered, body arching into him as he nipped at your sensitive skin.

"You're gonna look so pretty, all marked up under my sweater later," he sent an image of you, covered in hickeys from your throat to your hips down the bond as he continued to move slowly down your body.

Rhys liked to push you, liked to see how worked up he could get you, first with that silver tongue of his, then his hands, he could keep this up for hours. You, however, where so desperate for more friction, to fill the ache now burning between your legs, bucked your hips, squirming underneath him now. "Please. Need you."

He scraped his teeth along he hem of your underwear, humming his approval. Rhys grinned against your skin, all male satisfaction as he held your hips in place. "So impatient. I thought you were freezing to death in here? Don't you want to get warm, Darling?"

Warm? Your skin was on fire in every spot he had touched, the warmth of his body spreading to every point of contact he gave. It was becoming too much and not enough, you needed more, more, more.

"Please!"

He caught the hem of your panties in his teeth and pulled them slowly down your hips, hands skimming your hips and thighs, kneading soft skin. Your legs widened for him automatically, instinctively, despite the fact that you were now uncomfortably wet from his ministrations.

He ran his tongue against your center, humming his approval, blasting it down the bond. "So wet, and I've barely even touched you."

You pinched your eyes shut, overwhelmed already. He really was too damn good at this. No amount of time would ever be enough to satisfy the well of need you had for him. You blasted that desperation, that ache for him right down the bond as words failed you, as he continued his exploration of your dripping core with his tongue. Stars erupted behind your closed eyelids as he chuckled down the bond, pleased with your reactions to his body.

You were sure you were begging for him, whimpering and pleading nonsense as he worked you closer and closer to the edge, but the words faded in and out of your consciousness. There was only Rhys, the movements of his tongue, the feeling of his fingertips digging pleasantly tight in your hips, the heat of skin wherever it touched you. Your eyes rolled back into your head, body arching, hands tangling in his hair as the edge rose up to meet and you and you toppled over it with a scream that sounded an awful lot like your mate's name.

"Such a good girl," he purred as he lapped up the evidence of your pleasure.

You're whole body shook as he kissed his way back up your body, grinning against your flushed skin the whole way. He was so warm, when he kissed you again, the taste of your release still on his plush lips, your only thoughts were on how you could get more of that warmth, until it has seeped into your bones, erased any trace of the cold that had laid so deep beneath.

You threaded your hands in his hair, now a mess across his forehead, whimpering. "Need you still."

He grinned as he caught your lower lip between his teeth in a playful nip. "I know, love."

You moved a hand to the small of his back, pulling him closer.

"You'll have me until there are no longer stars in the sky." The bond flooded with more warmth and affection, as deep as your need for him ran, his was equal, there was no end to what he could give you.

You kissed him again, even as your legs wrapped around his waist, a bit of magic finally removing those damned leathers. Maybe you'd ask him to put them back on later, so you could enjoy the sight of him in the aftermath as much as he would you, but those were questions for later.

"I love you," you whimpered as he finally slide into you, slowly, casually, like there was all the time in the world for the two of you to enjoy each other.

He fit like he was made just for you, the stretch just uncomfortable for a moment before the pleasure made your back arch and your toes curl. He moaned into your throat, pushing his nose into your sweat dampened skin, inhaling your scent as he pushed all the way in to you.

You wondered, distantly, if the stars you were seeing were his making, or something that appeared for him too. The way he panted into your skin as he rocked his hips, testing you, made you think he saw them too.

"So perfect," he moaned as he slid almost fully out.

Your nails clawed at his shoulders, begging for him to come back and he plunged back in a little more forcefully this time, the couch groaning beneath the two of you.

You rocked your hips to meet his thrusts, hands still trailing down the contours of his spine in a move that would be sure to leave marks of your own. He nipped at your neck and shoulders when you pushed too hard, skin breaking beneath your fingertips, but you knew he didn't mind, know he relished in being marked up by you, like it was a badge of honor. You'd leave hickeys on him afterwards, when the pleasure building between your legs wasn't so white hot, when you could focus your attention somewhere other than the need burning it's way through you.

His hand snaked down between your legs, drawing you closer and closer to the edge again.

"Rhys," a prayer, a mantra, the only thing that made sense as pleasure turned all rational thought to mush.

"I've got you," he rasped in your ear, every muscle taught as he rocked into you again and again and again. His pace was quickly becoming more frantic, his breath hot on your throat as he moaned into your skin. It was that sound, so desperate and low right beneath your ear, coupled with the movement of his deft fingers, the angle of his cock inside you, all hurtling you so quickly towards the edge that you didn't notice it was there until you toppled over it. Your mate followed with a roar, his own release warm inside you.

You clung to him, trembling, panting, as you came down from your high, the familiar weight of him atop you grounding in the aftermath. He snaked an arm around you as he positioned the two of you on your sides, sharing the couch now. You buried your face in the crook of his neck as he kissed the top of your head, gently.

"Warm now, darling?" He asked softly, a hint of teasing still there, even as he recovered his breath.

He hadn't pulled out of you yet; you bit your lip in thought as you tossed a leg over his, bringing you flush against his hips. You were sensitive, the movement made you wince a little, but even after all that, you still wanted more of him. Perhaps it would never be enough. Like the Illyrians that called this frigid place home, there was always going to be something that pushed you back towards the fire, that damned insatiable need to get warm.

"I think I'm still a little cold," you purred, eyes glinting playfully.

Your mate chuckled at the challenge in your tone, violet eyes narrowing into where you were still joined. "Can't have that, can we?"

The fire roared in the fireplace, a bit of your mate's magic flaring, making sure there was more heat in the cabin, before his lips were on yours again, chasing away any hint of cold before it could touch you.

[feyreswaterybowels]

⭒The Silent One⭒

#3 Azriel x Fem!OC

⭒Part 1⭒Part 2⭒Part 3⭒Part 4⭒

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Azriel finds the guy that sold Cassandra. Lots of bonding happens with Cassandra, Azriel and other members of the IC. Slight cliffhanger.

Warnings/Tags: mentions/implied rape. Mention past sexual abuse. Mentions pregnancy from rape. Slow burn. Violence. Brief victim blaming. Found family. Protective!azriel. Protective!IC. GRAMMER ERRORS—I plan on going back to edit this please don’t judge me too hard I’m gonna have a busy week and just really wanted to get this posted for y’all🩵

Authors Note: all reblogs, likes and comments are welcome, appreciated and encouraged! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for the next chapter. Regular italics are inner thoughts and bold italics are mental communication.

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

Azriel stands in the darkness of night watching. Waiting. Body thrumming with anger. Calm cold anger. The kind that got people killed if they didn’t give him what he was looking for.

Only moments after Cassandra’s departure had his shadow returned to him. Telling him where to find this Vale. This horrid male who was taking females away from their family and selling them off—profiting off of them like livestock.

He sees the male, recognizes him from the briefs flash of memory Cassandra let slip at dinner, the one where this mad had choked her, slammed her against the wall just for needing to use the restroom.

The male is loading something up in the back of a wagon, the building behind him dark and dingy. Azriel let his shadows take him closer. Closer. Until he was standing in the alley between this man's house and another. The smell was horrid, small creatures scurrying about looking for their meal for the evening.

The male retreats into the building and Azriel lets a shadow loose to follow him—to be his eyes inside of this building. Inside is just as dark and dingy and piled high to the roof with…stuff. The blue skinned male navigates the maze of boxes and bins and trash with ease. He seems to be the only one here but Azriel knew better so he waits following the man through the seemingly endless maze.

That’s when he hears it, his shoulders going tight, his jaw clenching. Crying—no sobbing. A girl begging to be left alone as the male grabs her and pins her down to the floor.

“Fuck,” he growls. He pounds his fist against the outside of the building, taking chucks of the stone out. It’s loud enough to distract the man, to get him away from that girl as he rushed from the room under the floor, locking the locks and coming out. Looking around wildly for the source of the sound.

Azriel winnows, leaning against the wagon the man had been loading before, whistling to get the man attention. He whirls around, black eyes narrowed in anger, freezing in place when they land on him.

“Shadowsinger?” He grunts, narrowing his eyes at Azriel. “What brings you to these parts?”

Azriel looks him over, the smell of shit, piss and rot was overwhelming even from this distance.

“Vale,” Azriel says, to let the male know he knows who he is, rightfully see the fear in his eyes. “I’m looking for something and I hear you’re the one to help me.”

“I ain’t got nothing you need, pretty boy,” Vale sneers, crossing his arms, looking Azriel over. Trying to come off as tough but it’s actually laugh-able.

“Are you sure?” Azriel asks, pushing off the wagon. Letting his wings spread wide, walking closer, towering over the male. “See, I’ve got this female telling me you bought her from her dad and sold her to a pleasure house. I mean, tell me I’m wrong, man. I’ve just gotta check on these things. It’s a pretty serious accusation and all.”

“That chick’s got the wrong guy. I would never do something like that. These bitches are always trying to get us males in trouble,” Vale said, seeming to relax. Big mistake.

“You think so? Just tell me if you know her man. About this tall, really pretty, tan skin, white hair. Wings.” Azriel growls the last word, the man’s eyes widening again, taking a step back.

“Look, man, it’s not like that. Her dad owed me money, so he gave me her instead cause he couldn’t afford to pay me back, okay? So I didn’t technically buy her,” He stammered out, trying to explain himself.

“Oh,” Azriel said, nodding his head. “Well, I mean, if you didn’t technically buy her then no law was broken.”

“That’s right!” The male nods, sighing in relief. “No law was broken, man. I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t do that—”

“Yeah. I get it,” Azriel nods, shifting. Looking towards the building, then back to the low life in front of him. “And that female inside? Did you buy her? Is she here of her own free will allowing you to rape her daily?”

“Fuck,” Vale whispers, turning and running down the cobble stone road. Azriel stands there watching, a grin stretching his lips as he lets the male think he’s getting away.

“Send Morrigan,” He calls out to Rhys as he watches the male.

“She’s coming.”

Then he's gone again, just as Vale looks over his shoulder to try and spot him, only to smack hard into a body that came out of nowhere. He looks at the shadowsinger towering over him, swallowing thickly.

“What do you want from me?” The male nearly cried out as Azriel grabbed him and pulled him up, slamming his face first into a stone wall. The resounding crunch of his nose breaking is ever satisfying.

“Her name is Cassandra,” Azriel snarls into the man's ear. “She told us what you did to her. What you did to that female you have locked in that disgusting building. We know there’s more girls. We will find them all and when we do, I’ll let each one take a turn with you. Their weapon of choice. And you’ll feel exactly what they felt.”

“Ple-please. Please, just kill me,” The man begged, fighting in Azriel’s grasp but he was no match for Azriel’s strength.

“And what kind of justice would that be? Did you stop when those girls begged you to? Did you give them death with they would have preferred that over you using their bodies?” Azriel asked, scenting the smell of urine as the man pissed himself. “You deserve everything you’ve got coming to you.”

Before the pathetic excuse of a male could beg or plead any more Azriel grabbed the back of his head, smashing it into the wall, letting him fall unconscious to the ground. He left him there binded and hidden by shadows, stalking back to the building where he spotted Morrigan easily.

“Don’t tell me this is where he’s been keeping those poor girl?” She asked when she spotted him approaching.

“Unfortunately, I think it is. She said under his house but he could live here. I’ll question him more. I know there’s at least one female inside,” Azriel explained, guiding Morrigan into the building. Be could get the female on his own but he knew it was safer to have a female companion—after all they’d been through the least he could do was make sure a female was the one to comfort them.

They get to that basement floor, unlocking the various locks and pulling the hatch open. It’s as dark and dingy down here as it was in the rest of the building. Morrigan enters first, taking Azriel’s hand to steady herself on the old wobbly stairs.

“Your wings won’t fit down here,” She said, hushed. He nods at her. “Send a shadow if I call for help.” It’s said jokingly but he knows she’s serious. He’d rip the floor from this building to help her if she needed it.

Mor squinted her eyes in the dimness of the sellar, resisting the urge to plug her nose from the horrid smell.

“Hello? Is anyone down here?” She calls out, looking up from at Azriel when there’s no reply. “Hello, my name is Morrigan. I work for the High Lord. The male keeping you here is—”

Morrigan’s cut off when I body slams into hers, knocking her to the ground. She cries out in surprise when a sharp sting slices across her cheek.

“Stop, hey, stop! I’m here to help!” Mor calls out, trying to catch the hands of the female fae on top of her.

“Mor!” Azriel’s deep voice calls.

“I’ve got it!” Mor calls back, grabbing the girls wrists. “Please, stop! Vale is gone! He can’t hurt you, please, stop!”

The girl stops fighting then still tense where she’s straddling Morrigan’s middle section.

“He’s gone?” She whispers and Mor nods.

“Yes, he’s gone. He can’t hurt you any more. I swear,” She promises. Eyes finally able to take in the sight before her.

A fragile, naked, malnourished body sits atop her. Eyes not only shut but scarred as if they’d been cut—maybe by the same person that took Cassandra’s tongue. But what really got Morrigan, what had her ready to lose the contents of her stomach was the rounded belly attached to that nearly skeleton body. Her eyes welled and she helped the female to shift off of her body.

“Are you pregnant?” Mor whispers, trying to keep her voice from breaking as the female nods.

“Please, don’t let him take this one too,” She cries, reaching out to find Morrigan’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “Promise me I get to keep my baby.”

“I promise, no one is going to take your baby away from you,” Morgan swears, a single tear falling down her cheek. “What’s your name, sweet girl?”

“Neema, my name is Neema,” She answers and Mors eyes widen. The girl Cassandra told them about.

“You and your baby are safe, Neema. We’re gonna take you away from here, okay?” Morrigan says, standing and helping the pregnant female stand as well.

“I have my friend Azriel here too, he will not touch you, he’s only here to make sure no further harm comes to you. He’s handing me a cloak for you to wear,” Morrigan explains so the female doesn’t feel uncomfortable. She nods, allowing Mor to wrap the cloak around her.

“Are there any other females here?” Azriel asks gently, wishing he hadn’t with the way she clenched at the deep mess of it.

“Not—not that I know of. The females come and go. There’s been no others for months…” Neema answers, grasping the fabric tighter around her body.

Azriel and Mor share a look the last females had to have been Cassandra and the other two she mentioned.

“I’ll stay and check the building before I head back,” Azriel informed, consciously softening his voice so as not to scare the female again.

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Morrigan winnows away with Neema and Azriel searches every inch of the building with his shadows. No signs of any other females. He leaves the building, needing to relieve himself of the horrible stench.

He retrieves the still bound and unconscious male, winnowing him to his dungeon. He strips him, places a gag in his mouth, dumps him into a chair and binds him to it. He would be dealt with later.

The sun would be rising soon and he wanted to be there when they informed Cassandra they found the male and the female—her friend?

He enters Rhys' study, Cassian and Mor there too.

“How is she?” He asks, glancing at Morrigan then his brother.

“Resting,” Rhys answers. “Madja looked her over. Thankfully the baby seems healthy, Madja’s main concern is getting Neema to gain some weight and begin healing herself.”

“We offered her to live amongst the priestesses in the library, she agreed,” Morrigan said, her brown eyes bloodshot and cheeks flushed.

“Good, that’s all good, they’ll help her heal,” Azriel nods his head crossing his arms. “I have the male in my dungeon.”

“Have you gotten any information out of him?” Rhys asks, standing from his desk.

“Not much. He admitted to knowing who Cassandra was, receiving her from her father and holding her. He never admitted to selling her but that information won’t be hard to get out of him,” Azriel explains and Rhys nods in agreement.

“You get whatever information you can out of him and then he’s dead,” Rhys orders, Azriel doesn’t need to confirm he already knew what Rhys decision would be.

“Are we telling Cassandra?” Cassian asks, the first words he’s said the whole time.

“We are. She needs to know he’s here, it may bring her some comfort knowing he’s locked away and Neema is safe. I think you should be the one to talk to her, Azriel,” Rhy says, turning his attention to the shadow singer.

“Me? Not Mor?” Azriel asked, a bit confused.

“Yes, you. She’s comfortable with you. You’re the one that apprehended him. I believe she would prefer to hear it from you,” Rhys nods.

“Okay, I can do that,” Azriel agreed.

“You handle that, I’ve got some business to attend to with the priestesses. We’ll all meet up in a few hours to discuss further action.” Rhys stepped around his desk, patting Azriel’s shoulder when he passed by him.

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An hour goes by before Azriel tracks Cassandra down. Finding her in the library, flipping through a book where she’s sat in the large window seat that overlooked the city below. A steaming cup of tea next to her.

“I thought you couldn’t read?” Azriel asks, leaning against the door frame, grinning when those green eyes meet his.

“I can’t. I’m looking at the pictures,” She said, holding up the book, some romance book from the looks of the two people in a colorful garden.

“Ah,” Azriel says, walking further into the room. Trying not to focus on the way her eyes track up and down his body the closer he gets. He holds his hand out for the book, flipping it over the read the title, snorting at it. “Secret Garden Romance, huh?”

She shrugs, taking the book back.

“I asked the house for a book with a lot of pictures, this is what I got,” She said, a small sweet breathy laugh escaped her lips and he couldn’t help his own smile.

“Did you end up getting some sleep?” He asks, watching her set the book down and grab the warm mug.

“I slept but not great,” She shrugs. “I can’t stop thinking about my sisters.”

“We’re gonna do everything we can to find them, I promise you that,” Azriel said, not even waiting for a beat. He would find her sisters and he’d beat the shit out of her father too.

“You know I took my older sister's place. It was supposed to be her he sold off but the way she had cried when he told her. I couldn’t let him do that to her so I told him to take me…I didn’t really know what he meant when he was selling me. I thought I’d be a servant like the ones we had when I was a kid or something. I never thought…” She trailed off, taking a deep breath.

“You’re not to blame for what happened to you. You were protecting your sister. You did a very selfless thing. You're safe now and your sisters will be, too,” Azriel said, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned towards her.

“Well, what about you?” Cassandra asked, gently changing the subject. “Did you ever get any sleep?”

Azriel sighed with a head shake. “No, actually. That’s kind of why I came to talk to you.”

Cassandra fixed him with a curious look, leaning forward as if to give him her full attention for whatever he needed to say. He looked into those glowing green eyes, filled with curious concern.

“We found that male. Vale. We found him,” Azriel said, watching the vast range of emotions flash through those emerald eyes.

“He’s here?” Is what she asks, fear tinging her voice. Azriel straightens his back.

“He will not touch you,” he declared, holding her gaze. “He won’t even come near you.”

I’ll fucking kill him if he does. He thinks but doesn’t add it out loud.

“He can’t get out of…wherever he is?” She asks, and he wants to reach out so badly to comfort her. The ache in his chest drawing him to her.

“No. He’s being held in a very secure place. I promise you’re safe here. You’re safe with us.” Azriel promises. You’re safe with me.

“Were there any females with him?” She asks and Azriel nods.

“The girl you told us about, Neema. She was the only one there—it had been only her for months.”

He watches as her eyes fill with tears, offering his hand for her to hold. She takes it, thumb tracing his scars unconsciously.

“Just her…alone with him for months. Gods, is she…I feel like okay isn’t the right word for what I want to ask,” She says, sadness written all over her face.

“She will be okay,” Azriel said. “She’s in bad shape. Pregnant, malnourished but we have an amazing healer and a library below the mountain. Many priestesses live there. Many of them have experienced similar traumas. They’ll help her heal.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment. He wasn’t sure what was going through her head as she sat there silently, grasping his hand and tracing his scars.

“I want him to die.” It’s fierce. Heated. Emotional. And it does something to Azriel’s heart, to his brain. He squeezes her hand. “I want him to feel everything we felt. To know the fear he put us through. I want him to suffer and then I want him to die.”

“He will die. I swear to the Mother. I’ll get every drop of information from him and when it’s time his death will be painful and slow,” Azriel swore, gently swiping a tear from her cheek.

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

The next day is a day Cassandra would remember forever. She hadn't slept much the night before but Morrigan had practically begged her to have lunch.

Cassandra wasn’t entirely sure she was ready for a day out in the city but she felt safe with Morrigan. She nearly asked if Azriel could come too until she learned he would be spending the day collecting information from Kamari and Vale.

Morrigan picked out her outfit for the day and it was one of her favorites she’s worn since being here. A flowy silk top that tucked into a dark pair of slacks that raised high on my hips. They emphasized her longer legs in a way she had never noticed before. She had also pinned Cassandra’s hair up and out of her face.

She liked the way Azriel smiled at her when he saw her dressed this way. She blushed but was quickly rushed away by Morrigan, shouting something about wanting you to herself for the day for girl time.

Their first stop was a place she called the River House. A beautiful home that her mother would have loved. Morrigan had only had them stop here briefly to grab a few tote bags, wanting to shop while they were out but promised to bring her back and give her a proper tour of the house.

The city was even more beautiful when you were in it. The sun was shining bright in an endless blue sky. Better than any dreams she had ever had about it.

They went to bakeries, where Cassandra single handedly filled half a tote with various pastries.

Then a clothing shop where Morrigan helped her pick out some new clothes. A few everyday pieces. A gorgeous gown she wasn’t sure where she would wear it but Morrigan swore she would need it sooner or later. And then the softest, satin, dark blue nightgown—it had reminded her of the stones that glowed atop Azriel’s hands. Morrigan herself had picked out quite a few outfits and gowns of her own and a lace set that looked like something the girls in the pleasure houses would wear but she paid no mind to it—she was sure it would look gorgeous on Morrigan wherever she planned to wear it to.

Then they went to a place near the river for lunch, the glistening river was the perfect view while they ate.

“Do you feel like you’re settling in okay?” Morrigan asked, sipping on some kind of iced fruit tea while they waited for their food.

“I’m still…adjusting. I enjoy the company of everyone. I feel like I can trust you all. It’s just odd.” Cassandra says, taking a drink of her tea that was just slightly too sweet but she wasn’t complaining.

“What’s odd?” Morrigan asks gently.

“Trusting strangers more than I’ve ever trusted anyone else,” She says it like a confession, like she should be ashamed for feeling that way.

“I don’t think that’s odd,” Morrigan shrugged. “You’re around people like you, people you can relate to and get to know. It’s easy to feel safe with us in turn, causing your trust. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Cassandra smiles at Morrigan.

Their food comes soon after and they talk the whole time. Morrigan gives her the rundown of how Rhys, Azriel and Cassian all knew one another. She explained more about their titles and what each one of them did as a member of the inner circle. She told her about so much that Cassandra could believe she’d spent her whole live knowing practically none of it.

When they go to a bookstore Cassandra looks at a few before putting them back. Morrigan grabs them and tells her they’ll teach her to read—that she’ll love these books and so many more.

And when they finally get back to the House of a Wind it’s late. She's exhausted from carrying around nearly overflowing tote bags and eating more muffins then she can count.

A top the house where they have to land they’re greeted by the three males. Their solemn faces wiping the smile off your face. She caught Azriel’s eyes, sees the look of pure death there—a look that she just knows means he wants to kill someone.

And just like that, her perfect day with Morrigan took a turn straight down hill.

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[oristian]

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LUCIEN VANSERRA — HEIR TO THE DAY COURT

I originally intended to wait and post this for @lucienweekofficial but I wanted to share this stunning artwork with everyone early! I cannot wait to see Lucien and Helion and their interactions in the next books and I have high hopes that Lucien will be appointed to some title—either High Lord, or Prince—within the Day Court. The vision was Helion crowning his son and Lucy brought this idea to life wonderfully.

ART CREDIT @lucychanart

COMMISSION BY @oristian / @/ktbookishclub

characters belong to Sarah J Maas 🦊☀️

REPOSTS ALLOWED WITH FULL CREDIT