#demon!Rhys au

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Obsidian Salt

Summary: A little Witch!Reader x Demon!Rhys AU for my Spooky Season Fic List

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My hands shake around the ancient text, the worn tome heavy and dust laden from years upon years of sitting on a shelf, untouched and forgotten. The old latin script is illegible in places, the ink faded and hidden under unidentifiable stains; the parchment is dog-eared and scribbled in, the margins full of strange, archaic markings I’ve never seen used in our Coven’s rune work. These are not the spells of my ancestors, not the runes my mother and grandmother cast upon the old foundations of our family home. We are a family of witches, dating back beyond the ages of written word; I am supposed to carry on that legacy, but truth be told, I’ve always been terrible at spellwork. My potions are mediocre; powers of persuasion abysmal. I truly am a poor excuse for a witch, and everyone in the coven knows it. Perhaps that is why Sister Ruth chose me to put on a demonstration at the Solstice Festival tomorrow. If I cannot prove my worth, well, maybe it is in the best interest of the coven to throw me out, or worse, make a sacrifice out of me. 

I would not be the first.

I grip the tome a little tighter. I must prove my usefulness. I cannot fail my sisters, or worse, my grandmother.  She raised eight successful witches, it would be to her utter shame to have been my teacher all these years for nothing. 

I draw a shaking breath. These spells are old magic. Dark magic. But I must get good at something quickly, and the gods know I will not get there on any natural talent. Perhaps I don’t need to be a natural. Perhaps I just need to summon something that is. 

On the old wood floor of our basement, I have laid the circle of obsidian salt in three overlapping circles, each etched with runes of chalk for protection. Just in case, I’ve dusted the floor with dried rosemary and anise seeds; an added barrier against whatever evil I might accidentally conjure if this goes wrong. My mother’s amulet feels heavy beneath my sweater, the cold iron biting against my skin as if in warning against what I am about to do.

I take another deep breath and ignore the warning. I must not fail.

The words are clunky, foreign on my tongue, the first couple of tries produces no results at all. Perhaps I really am the worst witch ever!

I grip the tome so tight the spine groans as I try again, slower this time, sounding out each word piece by piece. I will not fail.

The whole basement is lit with candles and as I finish the final words of the spell, the light suddenly snuffs itself out. 

The air in the room drops to near freezing temperatures. My hands so stiff and shaky around the old tome that the book slips from my hands and falls somewhere in the darkness. I make it onto my knees to look for it in a mad scramble before the sound of rushing wind fills the tiny room. It’s so loud I have to cover my ears with my shaking hands. 

In the center of the salt ring, dark shadows begin to slither out from a crack in the floor, hissing like a dozen tiny snakes. 

What have I done?!

I scramble to find the book in the dark, hands tearing over the anise seeds and clumps of rosemary. Perhaps the crushed scent of herbs will be enough to ward off whatever terrible shadow I’ve just called upon!

The temperature of the room continues to drop, lower and lower, even as the screeching wind gets louder and louder. The shadows within the circle grow darker and thicker by the moment, spinning now like a whirlwind. At least the salt holds. 

And then, as quickly as the noise had begun, it suddenly quiets. All the candles light themselves again, allowing me to see where I’d dropped the book: Directly into the circle, having bounced over the line, and it now sits at the feet of the most handsome male I’ve ever seen in my life.

I can do nothing but stare. I had meant to summon some help, the soul of an old mage or a spirit from another world, perhaps, but not… well, whatever he is. He’s definitely alive, his bronze, bair chest rising and falling, making the swirl of dark ink over his skin move in twining patterns. Not a spirit, though I do not know what to make of the great, bat-like wings that sprout from his back, the leathery membrane twitching as he brings them close to his body to avoid the barrier the salt creates. And his eyes! Gods, there like two blazing, violet suns inside the sharp planes of his face. 

“Well isn’t this interesting,” he purrs, voice smooth as velvet.

“Gods, what have I done?” I whisper to no one in particular.

His mouth twists in a devilish grin as he bends down to pick up my tome. From the tips of his fingers come dark claws. A bit of living shadow curls over his wrist, moving like snakes across the worn pages. “No gods here, Darling.”

I, somehow, find it within me to stand, despite my shaking legs. It is still terribly cold in this basement; the source of it seems to be coming from him. “What are you?”

He chuckles as he flips through the pages, claws running affectionately over the runes written in the margins. “Why don’t you come closer and I’ll show you?”

The longer I watch him the more off I realize he is. There are fangs in his mouth, the sharp tips of them glinting in the candlelight. Tiny, glittering drops of starlight glisten in the strands of his raven-black hair. Intertwined within the ink across his chest are smaller versions of the runes written within the pages of the book. 

“I’ll stay right here,” I say.

He sticks out his full lower lip in a pout. “That’s no fun!”

He takes a step closer to the line of salt, testing the barrier with the tip of his boot. At least I managed to summon him half-way decent in a dark, leather pair of pants and boots. I don’t know what I’d do if I had summoned him fully nude. 

My cheeks flush at the thought, drifting down to follow the defined V of his abs, and where his pants slide low on his hips. If he were human I’d climb him like a tree. 

“Don’t tell me you summoned me just to gawk?” He presses. When he catches where my eyes are on his body, he adds, “Although you’re welcome to enjoy the view for as long as you like.”

I let out a huff. “I didn’t summon you for anything! I was trying to talk to the spirits.”

“There’s only one spell that can summon me, and you picked it,” he turns the book to show me the exact page I’d been reading from. “So tell me, what is it you want, Witchling?”

The way he says Witchling makes my skin flush; the heat in his tone enough to make me second guess myself. Why did I think that spell would summon something else? 

Perhaps I am a fool for saying it, but I blurt, “I need help.”

“Do tell,” he purrs.

“I’m supposed to give my coven a display of my magic tomorrow, for the Solstice, and well… I’m kind of the worst witch ever.” 

He glances at the herbs on the floor, and then back up to me. I swear there are actual violet flames moving around within his irises. I don’t know what he is, but I don’t think it’s anything that can help me. But how am I supposed to send him back without the book?

“I meant to summon a spirit to guide me in some quick magic. I didn’t mean to summon, well, whatever you are.”

“I am many things,” he says, walking a slow circle around the barrier, testing it. It’s like watching a recently caged animal at the zoo; he’s testing every point for a weak spot, and if he finds it, he’s using it. 

I swallow the lump in my throat. What do I do if he gets out?

“But you can call me Rhys.”

If there is any heat left in the room, it leaves in a rush. “As in Rhysand? One of the Princes of Hel?”

Rhys drags his claws over the invisible barrier the salt creates and I watch the magic ripple and pulse under those sharp tips. “Perhaps.”

“You need to go back,” I say in panic, even though I know it can’t work that way. I summoned him. I have to be the one to send him back. Without the book, Hel, even with the book, I can’t do anything. 

“Then send me back, Witchling.”

I’m going to have to get my grandmother, and everyone is going to know that not only am I a failure as a witch, but I am a danger to all of us. I can’t even read a spell book right! I summoned a Prince of Hel by accident!

I chew on my thumbnail, pacing now myself around the outside edges of the salt. What do I do? What do I do?

“Oh but you can’t, can you?” He teases, knocking the book against the barrier. “Not without this pretty little thing.”

The dried herbs crunch under my boots as I keep pacing. There are no other tomes like that accessible to me, not without the Elders knowledge. This one had slipped past unnoticed in my grandmother’s grand collection, I had found it by sheer luck. There were no other texts to help me out of this one, and at this rate, even if there was, could I even get it to work?

“So how about we do this my way, hmm?”

A shiver crawls its way up my spine. 

“You break the barrier, and I will help you with your little Solstice tomorrow.”

I finally turn to look at him. “You would do that?”

“After tomorrow night, you can send me back and we can pretend this whole thing was a bad dream.”

Maybe this wasn’t a mistake after all! Maybe I can still turn this around!

“You won’t cause any trouble?” I ask.

He puts a clawed hand over his heart. “I will not cause any trouble.”

“You swear it?”

“I cannot break my word, Darling,” he returns. 

My hands shake. What other choice do I have? “Just until the Solstice passes.”

“I promise you, that is all the time I will need.” I have to admit, his voice is strangely soothing. He does not strike me as some malevolent ruler of darkness at all. 

I grab a broom off the wall. “It’s a bargain then.”

He grins wolfishly the entire time, watching my every step as I approach with the intensity of a wolf stalking a deer. 

I swallow the lump in my throat. It’s only one night, what could one night hurt? With one last shaking breath, I drag the broom through the salt and break the seal.

The book clatters to the floor for a second time tonight, as he lunges forward, a clawed hand wrapping around my neck as his momentum propels me back against the wall. I hit the worn stones so hard dust rains down from the ceiling. 

Panic grips me; I have no magic to save me as a real witch ought. He’s taller than I thought he was, towering over me as his grip on me tightens to the point of pain, the tips of his claws leaving indents in my skin.  Rhys chuckles at my plight as he leans down and brushes his lips over mine in the ghost of a kiss. Ice fills my veins at the contact. “Silly little, Witchling, a night is more than enough to make you mine.”

[damian-lil-babybat]

here's a quick doodle of Respawn smiling. I am reminded of how few my fanarts are for him, so there.

He's canonically half brother of Damian. And he still has no human name! Been waiting for Deathstroke to give him one, but I guess he has to earn it?

I just HC his name as Rhys al Ghul Wilson (nickname for Respawn) for now.

Robin (2021) #13

[shadowisles-writes]

Overcome (Demons & Witches)

A series of one-shots for each ship as demons and witches. All non-con/dubcon so check the tags!

Bow Down - elucien

When one of Elain's rituals releases more magic than usual, a much bigger demon than what she has ever protected herself against comes to her door. No amount of hidden traps and talismans can protect her from what he wants to take.

Toxic - feysand

Feyre has gotten her hands on spells far beyond her abilities, but that won't stop her from trying to use them. When Rhysand finds her unprotected, it is far, far too easy for him to coerce an untrained little witch into becoming his.

Tempt You - neris

After Feyre casts a spell far beyond her abilities, Nesta rushes to her house in an attempt to rescue her from powerful demons. She finds one on the front lawn before she can look for her sister, and quickly finds herself powerless to do anything but trap herself in a hopeless bargain.

[deathtrap-01]

My inner demons Leif

[turtiowo]

The tiny mermaid Syalis was happy when humans were not yet hunting her kind. When the hunt began, her elders protected her, and she lost everyone she loved, one by one, until her heart turned into a piece of ice. There was a time when she fought against humans, but this did not decrease their numbers, but increased them. So much that the mermaids began to become extinct. The seas were polluted with blood and the power of her kind diminished, and Syalis fled… unwillingly. For centuries, she had no time to rest. Whenever she found a new place, it was discovered immediately. It's unclear whether she was trapped because she was tired or because she gave up.

[starmieee]

Thinking about my Reverse MID au (inspired by a fanfic yes im not original) and its funny that Rhys and Asch most definitely hate each other THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE of loyal right hand man and prince

Since Asch is a nepo baby (i think thats the term) or is the child of an extremely rich person and doesn't have to work meanwhile Rhys has worked his entire life in order to get a good career (he's still in college) so you can imagine the beef they have

[daddyanubi]

Messy sketches based off an angel and demon au I have for these two.

[creamecream]

"Ta~ you are on timeout."

Magnolia May belongs to @abyssnighthawk

Pose found on Pinterest.

[polygula]

Late upload of my art piece for my fanfiction series „With not without you“

a witch!Rhys/zombie!Tim fic series!

Painting is inspired by the JC Leyendecker piece „Modern madonna with child“

Read here on AO3

[phenikas]

Just wanna let you all know I am in the middle of so many wips it's not even funny... I'll try to get at least one thing out this week but bear with me cause work is absolutely kicking my ass and I do not have as much free time as I wish I had

There's still two reqests I wanna finish but then there's a Halloween thing I wanna do that involves editing Jack and Rhys' textures and also slightly modifying Rhys' old Tales Atlas model.

And then there's another thing that I wanna do for once I reach 200 followers which honestly I have no idea when that's gonna be (hint: AI Jack RGB lights) (another hint: it's gonna be a video with actual voice lines taken from tales files this time)

Also I started writing one of my wips again that I haven't really talked openly about but it is the same AU as that one drawing I did earlier this year and I feel like it's not supposed to have a definite ending so I might just put whatever I wrote on AO3 sometime soon and then get back to it later once I have more of it written down

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Obsidian Salt II

Part 2 of my Witch!Reader x Demon!Rhys fic

Content Warnings: Dark!Rhys, mental manipulation, brief mentions of sacrifices/blood

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“Silly little, Witchling, a night is more than enough to make you mine.”

His clawed hand still grips my throat, tight enough to make stars start dancing across my vision. All attempts at pulling him off, pushing him away, fail miserably. 

“You’re shaking, Witchling,” he coos, his breath warm on my neck as he brushes his lips over the shell of my ear, laughing in dark amusement to my plight. “What’s the matter?”

I bash my fists against his solid, and very bare, chest uselessly. “Let go!”

Rhysand, Prince of Hel, hums, as if thinking, then suddenly drops me in a rush, my limp body falling onto the cracked stone floor without the support of his weight. Dried anise and rosemary crushes under my palms--another failed attempt at warding off evil. Our books are clearly outdated. 

My coughing must attract attention, because the door leading down into our decrypt little basement swings open, the old wood hitting the door with a horrendous crack. I glance at the demon I’d accidentally summoned in a panic, if he gets out, I’ve doomed my entire coven!

But the violet eyed demon merely grins wickedly as he dissolves into shadow and smoke, taking my grandmother’s tome, and the spell that would rid me of him, with him into the dark recesses of the basement. I can still feel him there, his icy power chilling the room, but he has no solid shape.

“What are you doing down here?” My grandmother, the leader of our coven, sounds worn and tired and she has used that weathered lilt to worm her way into many enemy’s houses, just to smite them with a snap of her fingers. She may look old and feeble, but it is all a ruse to get people to let their guard down, and once that happens, she can pluck whatever she wants from their open hands.

I’d idolized her as a child. I wanted so badly to prove to her and my mother that I could be just as good a witch as them, but I have nothing to show for it but the scattering of obsidian salt and a Prince of Hel I just let into our home.

I scramble to my feet, mind spinning as I try to figure out how I will explain all this. Though, that becomes useless a moment later when the evidence of my transgressions disappears, as if they never existed. All the dried herbs, the salt in the summoning circle, even my chalk runes are gone. It is just me and a couple of candles in the basement by the time my grandmother makes it down the stairs.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, child,” she snarls, her gnarled cane stomping angrily against the final step. 

She can’t see or smell what I have done. Does that free me or doom me? And how the Hel did it disappear like that? It certainly wasn’t me, which means Rhysand, for some reason, is hiding the evidence.  

“I was…” my throat burns, I run a hand over it absently, hoping the darkness hides the claw shaped indents in my skin. There will surely be bruises too. “Practicing! For the Solstice!” The lie isn’t as smooth as I’d like, but it will be better than the truth.

My grandmother’s worn head swivels to look around the empty basement, her wrinkled mouth pinched in a permanent frown that looks extra deep today. “What have you decided to show us?” There is nothing but disappointment in her tone, even though there is nothing here for her to be disappointed in. 

“It’s a surprise,” I say.

Her cane is made from the first tree ever planted in this town, scared with runes and blessings and imbued with enough magic to power the city’s mage lights for a year; she uses it to smack me in the shoulder, her strength still startling even though I know there’s more to her than the slight hunchback. 

“Do not disappoint me as you always do,” she hisses. 

Shame floods me. I am always the disappointment. Always the let down. My sisters are natural talents. My aunts born with such intense magic they have to go on annual retreats to expel it. My mother hunts men for sport. And I am the girl who was so desperate to be something, she went to a book of dark magic for help.

I hang my head. “Grandmother, I have a confession.” I should just get it over with. There is no point in delaying the inevitable. I don’t possess enough magic to send a demon back to its realm. I will need her help. Better to break the bargain I’d made than wait for it to blow up in my face. 

She sighs like this conversation just might be the worst thing that’s ever happened to her. “What now?”

“I-” I try to tell her, really I do, but when I open my mouth, no words come out. It feels as if something’s lodged itself in my throat.

Shit, maybe Rhysand damaged my vocal chords!

“I-” I try again the words catch as before. It is not as if I am choking, there is nothing redistricting my airway, I’m not struggling to breathe, but no matter how hard I try to admit my sins, the words stick.

She smacks me with the cane again. “Stop messing around!”

“I’m not, I-” A dark, sensual laugh slithers its way into my head, as if he’d done it in my ear.

She throws up her hands and turns away. “I better not see any of this nonsense at the Solstice. Or you’ll be the sacrifice to the Goddess.”

“Come now, Darling, did you really think I’d let you tell her about our little bargain?” Even mentally his voice is a deep purr that makes a shiver run down my spine. He is thoroughly embedded in my head, I can feel the dark shadow of him sitting like a cat curled up in the back of my skull. Every time I try to mention him, his icy power flows through me.

My grandmother slams the basement door shut behind her, and only then does Rhysand materialize from the corner of the room, leisurely stretching out his great wings as if awakening from a nap. Whatever magic he used to hide the room falls away, leaving the salt and herbs visible once more.

“What did you do to me?” I snarl.

He chuckles as he tucks his wings back behind his lythe body. “We had a bargain, any interference with that bargain will leave you in a similar state of discomfort. If not worse.”

I rub a hand over my throat. “You’re a bastard!”

He saunters closer, footsteps silent on the worn stones. I find myself shrinking back against the wall as he approaches again. 

“You summoned me, Darling, this is the bed you get to lie in.”

“You tricked me,” I snarl.

He’s close enough now that I can smell the jasmine and citrus scent of him, mingled with a faint hint of smoke. Close enough that I can read the runes etched into his bronze skin, the markings ancient and sharp. If he was anyone else, anything else, I would be tempted to reach out and touch, trace the swirling shapes over his defined chest and shoulders.

“Tricked you?” He frowns as he braces his hand on the wall above my head, effectively caging me in against the rough stone. “You summoned me, Witchling, and in case you missed that delightful little threat from the crone, I am your only salvation from a Solstice sacrifice.”

“What kind of demon could be my salvation?” I retort.

He uses the hand not bracing himself against the wall to take my chin between two of his claws, tilting my head up to look at him. I have never felt smaller than I do at this moment. 

“You have no idea what I could give you, if you only asked,” he says, voice dropping to a husky whisper. His eyes drift to my lips, and his tongue slips out to wet his own as he watches the way my breath hitches in my throat when he speaks. “I could show you power you have only dreamed of; offer cities on their knees to you. There is nothing I can’t give you.”

I can see it, as clearly as if it was happening in front of my eyes: Power, glittering and dark pouring from my fingertips, consuming everything in its path; droves of fragile, powerless humans bowing at my feet, their arms laden with gifts and tribute. I didn’t think I wanted things like that. Power was the pursuit of my grandmother, never an option for me. But the feeling of it, even in a vision is enough to make my head spin. Could I really feel like that? 

“You desire power, Witchling, that’s why you summoned me, isn’t it?” He whispers, claws drifting down my throat in a sensual caress.

I nod, too scared to speak, too ashamed to admit that he is right, to admit that I am gullible and weak willed enough to even entertain the possibilities spinning through my head.

“Aren’t you tired of being forgotten? Cast aside? Belittled?��

His hand drifts lower, following the stuttering pulse of my heartbeat down my chest. I should shy away from his touch, but my body shivers under his ministrations instead. I can’t look away from him, from the pretty images he spins round and round in my head like it’s his own personal movie screen. 

“Aren’t you tired of being good and quiet and ignored?” 

He’s so close now if I tilt my head up I’ll brush my lips against his. My own gaze flicks to those full, sensual lips. Perhaps power is not the only thing I want, and I cannot, for the life of me, remember why I don’t want him. It’s like everything has been emptied out of my head except for him.

“Yes,” I whisper. My voice doesn’t sound like mine, like I’m entranced somehow but I don’t know how to break the spell, how to tell if this is me or if it’s him.

“Just a taste is all it takes, Darling,” he closes the gap just enough to brush his lips over mine. It isn’t cold or unyielding like last time, the warmth of his breath ghosting over my suddenly flushed skin. 

My body chases after him like it’s starved, hand reaching up to tangle in the long strands of his dark hair. He lets me pull him back, lets me slot my lips over his. When he kisses me back there is no longer ice in it, only an all consuming warmth that floods my system like water breaking through a damn. 

He kisses like a desperate male; all tongue and teeth, fangs scraping against my lower lip as he takes and takes from me. And I let him. Damn me! I let him push me back against the wall, let his hands slide down my body until he can lift me up and wrap my legs around his trim waist. He tastes like smoke and jasmine and endless possibilities. When his lips are on mine I feel infinite. Under his grip I should feel helpless and frail as I always do, but like this, I think I might just be able to be anything.

A bit of shadow slips from his lips when he finally pulls away, the smoky haze drifting along our shared breath as he puts his lips to my throat. He’s everywhere, in my head and under my skin, everywhere but where I think I need him the most.

His fangs scrape against my throat as I tilt my head back against the wall, letting him have free reign to do with my body as he pleases. “Doesn’t this feel better?” He purrs, the vibrations of his voice against my flushed skin making a shiver race down my spine. 

“Yes,” I gasp when he sinks his teeth into my shoulder, the coppery scent of blood in the air telling me he’s marked me as his before the pain registers. 

Rhys laves over the wound with his tongue. “Never again will you feel small, or powerless,” he says lowly. “Your coven will bow to you. They will regret ever doubting you.”

I rock my hips into his, desperate for some sort of friction. “You-you could really do that?” Words are hard against the images still spinning around inside my head, competing with the feel of his warm body between my legs and his teeth still nipping at my shoulder.

“You need only to say two little words, and all of it is yours, Witchling,” he purrs, lips making their way back up my throat. 

When he kisses me again, there’s the coppery tang of my own blood on his tongue. “Tell me your mine and it will be done.”

My head is starting to feel fuzzy, the room spinning as the images in my head all start to blur together. The stars in his eyes start to twirl around his irises, for a second the movement takes all the color out of his irises, until there is nothing but black emptiness. I blink away the strange vision.

“I-” Upon my hesitation, his lips are back on mine again, his hands exploring my body, slipping beneath my shirt to trace patterns in my skin. I think his claws might scratch marks into my sensitive flesh but my head is too empty to pay it any mind. What’s a little blood?

“Say it,” he presses, voice a husky whisper that makes heat flare in my core. I want to know what other things he might whisper in my ear with that tone. “Say your mine. Let me give you everything you deserve.”

I do deserve more than this. For too long I have been forgotten and ignored or belittled for being a waste of space. I’m tired of it! For once, I want to make people fear what I am capable of. I want people to regret casting me aside when they see me.

“I’m yours, Rhysand,” I say.

Something hot, like a brand inks its way across my spine. So intense and blistering that I scream. He swallows that sound with another kiss, tongue swiping behind my teeth as my body writhes against the blinding pain. 

“It’s ok,” he coos, “just my sigil, so everyone knows who you belong to. It won’t hurt much longer.”

Another kiss is all it takes for me to forget entirely why there are tears streaming down my cheeks. My head feels so incredibly emtpy. 

He runs his tongue over my cheek, licking away the tear streaks that feel so foreign on my flushed skin. “See, that’s better, isn’t it, Witchling?”

I nod even though I can’t remember what he’s referring to. Of course I feel good, he’s here, holding me, whispering sweet things in my ear while his hands roam over my skin. 

He grins, fangs glinting in the candlelight. “We will have everything we deserve, Darling, and more when we’re done with them.”

“Them?” Were we talking about someone? I don’t remember.

The stars really do wink out of his eyes, the violet rapidly disappearing until there is nothing but unending darkness. His wings flare out behind him, apex talons sharpening until the form points. Shadows seep from his shoulders in rolling waves, until their darkness fills the room. “The witches of course. We have unfinished business with them.”

I think, maybe, there is something wrong with the way he looks, some old instinct in me trying to warn me to run. But I reach out a hand and brush it curiously over the ridge of his wing, feeling the leathery membrane shutter beneath my touch. 

“What do you need me to do?” I ask.

He lowers me onto the floor and places a big, worn tome in my hands. I feel a flash of recognition in the back of my mind, but before I can place it, the memory is ripped away by a tendril of shadow. “Let’s start with burning a few books, hm? Then we have some Solstice sacrifices to make.”

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Tag List: @girl-math-aint-mathing / @hjgdhghoe / @gloomy-hag / @barb00235

[serpentandlily]

Wicked Games - Halloween Special

Dark!BatBoys x Reader (modern au)

Summary: The boys corrupt their captured Angel.

Warnings: drug use, thigh riding, dark themes (mdni)

a/n: HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! 🎃✨ hope you enjoy this little Halloween special with our favorite boys!

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥Part III

༺♥༻

Halloween Special

༺♥༻

The music was pounding through the speakers, the lights pulsating mixed colors on the floor and walls. The atmosphere was dark and sensual. Fake cobwebs hung in the corners of the walls, spooky decorations placed all over.

It was Halloween night and the club was packed full of people in all sorts of costumes. You surveyed the dance floor, watching the mixture of bodies all moving together to the fast paced music.

You were where you always were when you came to Velaris, the illustrious night club. In the VIP section, perched on the owner’s lap—Rhysand’s lap.

He was lucky he was much taller than you otherwise the white feathered wings you had strapped to your back would’ve smothered his face.

You were dressed as an Angel. Your costume had, of course, been picked out by Rhysand. It was hardly more than some skimpy white lingerie completed with a halo headband and the wings.

Rhysand was dressed as the Devil in all black, with horns clipped in his hair. Not much of a costume but considering he already was a devil in disguise, it suited him.

Cassian and Azriel were dressed as his demons. Both also had horns clipped to their hair and wore massive bat-like wings.

An Angel and her devil and two demons.

You had to admit, they all looked hot—devilishly handsome. Just the sight of them alone had your pulse racing. You knew by the grin on their faces that they felt it too.

You sipped on your cocktail, already on your second one and feeling a nice buzz. Rhysand leaned forward, brushing your hair to one side.

“Having fun, Angel?”

His breath ghosted the tip of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Not too long ago you had been in a similar position with him while his fingers were inside of you. The thought of that night caused an ache between your legs.

“Yes, sir,” you replied, leaning into his touch. His arm was wrapped around your waist, his hand flat against your stomach.

“Such good manners tonight,” Cassian teased from next to you. “Maybe you should always keep this costume on.”

“Don’t tease her, Cass.” Azriel’s dark and husky voice came from your other side. You felt him graze the back of his knuckles against your upper arm. “Not while she’s being such an angel.”

You smirked at Cassian. You always loved it when Azriel took your side. Cassian playfully narrowed his eyes at you in challenge.

“I think she deserves a sweet treat,” Rhysand purred. “Do you guys agree?”

You twisted your head to the side to look at Rhys. Your eyes met Rhy’s violet ones full of mischief and lust. Your eyebrows raised in question as his two demons nodded their agreement.

Rhysand reached into his pocket and pulled something out. It was a small baggie filled with a few translucent looking patches.

“What is that?”

“This, Angel, is called the Devil’s Tongue,” Rhys whispered. He leaned down, nipping at your ear. “It’ll make you feel good. I promise.”

He sat up straight, raising a single eyebrow at you in question. You weren’t a stranger to drugs, though you’d never tried this one before. But it was Halloween after all, and the Devil was offering you the chance to sin.

You held out your palm but Rhys smacked it down.

“Pick one of my demons, Angel.”

You were confused, facing forward again to look at Cassian and Azriel. Cassian grinned at you but Azriel’s face held just a small smirk.

“Azriel,” you said. He had been on your side earlier, after all. Cassian gave you a faux pout while Azriel’s smirk turned into a grin.

A grin that looked anything but friendly. You swallowed nervously. Perhaps you had chosen wrong.

Rhysand opened the baggie and pulled out one of the tiny square patches. You watched with curiosity as Azriel opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. Rhys placed the translucent patch right on his tongue.

The Devil’s Tongue indeed.

“If you want it,” Rhys purred as he gripped both your wrists in his hand. “You’ll have to take it from him.”

You knew where this was going. Rhysand was going to continue to hold your arms back so if you wanted it, you’d have to use your own tongue to take it from him. It really should’ve taken you longer than half a second to decide what you wanted but when in Rome…

You made eye contact with Azriel, bristled at the challenge in his hazel eyes. Fine then. You’d show them.

You leaned towards him, your eyes fluttering closed. You stuck your tongue out, letting it swirl over his before licking the patch right off his tongue. But you took things further as Azriel pulled his tongue back into his mouth and smashed your lips against his.

Azriel was quick to react, meeting your passionate vigor with his own, a small grunt escaping from him. Rhys shifted you in his lap with a groan, clearly enjoying the show you and Azriel were putting on.

You felt the drug dissolve in your mouth as you continued to kiss Azriel. His tongue darted out again, swiping your bottom lip. You parted your lips with a small gasp, letting him in.

Cassian let out a jealous growl from behind you, his calloused hand gripped your thigh. You continued to make-out with Azriel, groaning into his kiss as you felt Rhysand harden beneath you.

Cassian’s large hands moved to your waist, yanking you from Azriel and pulling you to face him. You smirked at the feral hunger in his eyes, the envy behind it.

“My turn,” he growled.

You tilted your head at him. “I don’t know, Cassian. I don’t think you’ve been very good tonight.”

His eyes sparked and he leaned forward to whisper in your ear. “Tonight isn’t about me being good, baby girl. It’s about seeing just how bad we can make you.”

He pulled back to give you a wolfish grin.

“Why don’t you show my demon a little mercy, Angel?” Rhysand murmured. “Open up.”

The command in his voice had you parting your swollen lips, sticking your tongue out so he could place one of the tiny patches on it.

Cassian launched forward, licking the drug right off your tongue before grabbing you by the back of the head and crashing his lips against yours with a groan.

Azriel’s kiss had been sensual, slow and tantalizing. But Cassian was rougher with you, a mixture of teeth and lips that had you panting. You mindlessly grinded your ass into Rhysand’s hard cock needing more and more.

The drug was starting to kick in now. You could feel it inside of you, amplifying the emotions you were already feeling and leaving your mind spinning. Desire lit a flame in the lower pit of your stomach, your core pulsating with need.

Rhysand pulled you away from Cassian, who whined in response. You squealed as he spun you around easily, until your legs straddled his hips and you faced him. His eyes were dark with lust and he growled as his cock pressed against your clothed center.

“Open,” he commanded.

Your eyes were half-lidded as you stared at him with just as much hunger. You stuck your tongue out, letting him place another tablet on it. He swirled his tongue around yours, much like you had done to Azriel, before licking the patch from you.

Every inch of your skin was on fire. The air was heavy with desire and need. You wanted so much more. Wanted to take and take and take what you needed from them.

Azriel and Cassian’s hands were all over you, stroking your spine, your thighs, your shoulders. Any bit of exposed skin they could reach. You tossed your head back with a sigh, looking up at the pulsating colors on the ceiling that changed to the beat of the loud music.

“You are so hot,” Cassian growled, scraping his canines against the lobe of your ear.

“Beautiful,” Azriel breathed, kissing up your shoulder to your neck.

“Our little Angel is just as sinful as we are,” Rhysand purred.

More. You needed more.

“Rhys,” you whined, unsure why. All you knew was the ache between your thighs was almost unbearable. Cassian nipped at your throat as Azriel’s tongue lapped at the swell of your breast.

“What is it, Angel?” Rhysand crossed his hands behind his head, his gaze drifting between your eyes and your body that was perched perfectly in his lap—The Devil, king of the underworld without a crown, letting his demons corrupt his captured Angel.

“I want…” you mewled out between pants of air. “I need more.”

“Go on, Angel.” Rhysand grinned and you were spinning again. “Take what you need from me.”

Cassian’s hands trailed down your thigh, sliding under it and lifting your leg moving it between Rhysand’s lap so you were straddling one thigh. Azriel was kissing up your throat, gripping your chin with his hand to keep you in place.

Rhysand jerked his knee and you gasped as his leg rubbed against your center. Your eyes widened as you turned your head around to glance at the club but with Azriel and Cassian huddled so close to you and Rhysand, their large wings blocked your view.

“No one can see you, sweetheart,” Azriel said darkly, twisting your face to his. “No one is allowed to see you. Not like this.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips. You kissed him back, relishing in the feeling of his soft lips. Cassian’s hand roamed your body, kneading your breasts, running up and down your bare thighs while Rhysand watched intensely.

“Help her, Cassian,” Rhysand ordered.

You were still too wrapped up in Azriel’s kiss, letting his tongue explore your mouth to understand what Rhysand meant. That is, until you felt Cassian grab you by your hips and rocked you on Rhysand’s thigh.

You gasped into Azriel’s kiss, a shot of electricity piercing through your body as your core rubbed against Rhysand’s leg. Cassian rocked you again and again, guiding your movement as he lapped at your throat, your jaw, the tops of your breasts. Anywhere he could.

“That's it, baby girl,” Cassian encouraged. “Use Rhys for your own pleasure. Let us make you feel good.”

Your Angel wings and breasts bounced softly with every roll of your hips. It wouldn’t take much to push you over the edge, not with the drug amplifying every feeling, every brush against your skin.

Cassian’s hands went back to roaming your body as you took over riding Rhysand’s thigh on your own. The grunts and groans coming from all three of them, the sight of Rhysand straining against his pants, only turned you on even more.

The pressure was building and building in the pit of your stomach. The colors of the club mixed together, the beat of the music serving as a guide for the movement of your hips.

You were so close. So close.

Azriel bit down on your bottom lip right as Rhysand purred, “Come for us, Angel. Let us hear those beautiful cries.”

The tiny spark of pain, his words, the feeling of his thigh rubbing against you—it knocked you right over the edge. You pulled away from Azriel’s kiss, tossing your head back as your orgasm shot straight through you.

It was lightening, euphoric, peaking you so high that the tumble down had you falling limp against Rhysand’s chest.

“Good girl,” he muttered, stroking a hand down your spine. “Our perfect little Angel.”

Because that’s what you were.

An Angel, captured by the Devil and his demons.

But if this was hell, you never wanted to go back to heaven.

༺♥༻

Tag list: @justdreamstars @minakay @f4iry-bell @godletmebeanf1wag @judig92 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @peaceandcrackers @glitterypirateduck @gorlillaglue25 @the-lake-is-calling @danikamariemain @sousydive @mis-lil-red @hallucynatiing @librafairy @poshestpigeon @sirenaobscura @red-rabbit-13 @elle4404 @strangelycami

[senjiiblogs]

My Inner demons but they enjoy a Slice of Life AU

(nah this is just my excuse to draw Hula pierce Cus I headcanoned him Hawaiian/Polynesian)

And Rhys trying out coconuts.

[shadowriel]

ACOTAR Couples & Halloween Costumes: Headcanons 👻 🎃

Feysand: Feyre and Rhys definitely have a cute family costume planned with Nyx, but as soon as they leave him with a babysitter, they have to be the hottest couple in a 25-mile radius. Think Mr. & Mrs. Smith, think mafia AU, think Feyre in a slutty dress and Rhys unable to keep his hands off her

Nessian: Nesta and Cassian start planning their costumes at least a year in advance. No expense is spared, no detail is overlooked. Sure, they get into semi-heated arguments leading up to their favourite day of the year, but it’s well worth it. My vote goes to them being sexy pirates, or a gender bent Hades and Persephone.

Elucien: The thing about Elain Archeron is that she will always be that bitch, so well-dressed that people can’t help but stare. Lucien LOVES it! He’s also more than happy to take off his shirt at Elain’s request. A Greek god (or warrior) and goddess definitely works for their day court vibes (bonus points if Elain is Aphrodite).

Azris: Eris and Azriel famously refuse to put effort into Halloween. Azriel has been known to throw on cat ears. Eris has worn a mask or used fake blood on more than one occasion. Yet, somehow they end up surprising everyone by dressing up as a cop (Eris) and sexy criminal (Azriel). Yes, the handcuffs are fully functional. And, yes, Azriel wears a crop top.

Emorie: Our fave girlies have one goal on Halloween, and that’s to look ridiculously hot. Mor lives by the fact that “hoes don’t get cold” and usually makes a costume out of lingerie. Emerie’s been known to follow her lead or dress in something’s that more comfy. I think they would absolutely slay as an angel and demon.

Bonus addition: Emerie as a witch (and Mor can tag along as a black cat)

Gwynriel: These two always go with a costume that’s ridiculously niche or nerdy. Sometimes, Gwyn will get Azriel to dress up as her favourite male characters. Sometimes, she’ll wear a gorgeous costume on her own (and Azriel will just be there, looking at her with hearts in his eyes). Batman and catwoman is a fan favourite, but Gwyn loves the year she found her new favourite book and got them to dress up as a priestess and shadowsinger.

Elriel: Elain is hot (see above), and Azriel is more than happy to take a supporting role when it comes to couples costumes. Elain wants to wear a fancy dress? Azriel will offer to hold her purse. It’s an Elain Archeron world and Azriel is loving every second of just being in it. I feel like a flower and gardener costume would be cute couples costume for them.

Jassa: Jurian and Vassa are here to have fun. All of their costumes are easy-going and definitely bought last-minute, but they still look amazing. They’re known to find things around the house, and wear a costume that they insist is a pun. Some years, they remember they have these race car outfits at the back of their closet.

Gwynlain: Gwyn and Elain are for the Pinterest girlies. They always have the most gorgeous costumes, and their makeup is impeccably done. Dare I say, they’re the second hottest couple in a 25-mile radius. My brain is literally malfunctioning at the thought of them dressing up like Bloom and Flora from Winx Club.

I honestly could go on and on (and on…)

[All images were found on pinterest]

[lady-bluebird-luv]

Happy @officialfeysandweek! This is my contribution for the day 7: AU prompt. I'm a little nervous about this one, but also really hyped. :)

Feyre frowned. “You’re a cannibal?” Jesus, she loved this man, and he fucking ate people?

"Oh, Feyre." Rhys leaned in until they were sharing breath, their mouths no more than a feather-width apart. “Cannibalism implies that I’m human.”

Something moved in a corner of the room. On the wall, his body's shadow unfurled. Feyre gasped softly as immense, leathery wings cocooned her.

Word Count: 4,950

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand

Additional Tags: Morally Ambiguous Rhysand (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Blood Drinking, Feysand Week 2024 | Tumblr: officialfeysandweek, Shameless Smut, Face-Sitting, Possessive Sex, Biting, Dark Rhysand (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Rough Sex, Morally Ambiguous Feyre, Wife Guy Rhys, jealous feyre, Established Relationship, Demon Rhysand (A Court of Thorns and Roses), I Wrote This While Listening to Ethel Cain's Music, Human Feyre Archeron, Mates

[littlest-w01f]

FeysandWeek Moodboard

For @officialfeysandweek

Day 7: AU

A/n: I... I couldn't choose just one...

Pirate x Siren

Pirate!Rhys who is the scariest man on the sea, Siren!Feyre who gave him his most brutal scars.

Feyre failed at making her first kill, accidentally leaving Rhysand alive, with claw marks on his chest and bite marks on his throat. Not that he cares much, his Siren was just marking him the way he was sure he would get to mark her in return.

Angel x Devil

Angle!Feyre who got kidnapped by demons during the war and Devil!Rhysand who couldn't bring himself to hurt her

Watching Feyre fight off his demons while caged up, impressed Rhysand, how she didn't back down, he set out to make sure she was protected in his realm, he never expected to fall in love with her.

Artist x Businessman

Artist!Feyre who is just starting out selling her work, Rich Businessman!Rhysand who buys her paintings for 10x the price because he's smitten.

Rhysand asks her to come over to his billion-dollar mansion so he could commission a portrait from her, Feyre thinks he's just a snobbish rich guy with money to waste, but he's paying her thousands of dollars so she doesn't complain.

Mob boss x Doctor

Mob boss!Rhysand who got injured in a deal gone wrong, Doctor!Feyre who treated him while he laid back and formed an obsession with her.

Feyre didn't know who he was until long after she was done treating him and he escaped from his bed. When she returned home, she found flowers sitting on her front door with no note, and every day after that.

Princess x King

Human Princess!Feyre who is forced to marry the Fae King!Rhysand as sacrifice to keep Fae from attacking her kingdom by her mother

Rhysand chose his bride, out of the three sisters the one the family had made sure was out of the way, and decked up more like a servant than a princess, while Feyre just loves stepping on his toes to try to assert her dominance but it's quite humorous for him.