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likecanyoujustnot · 9 months ago

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Just Two Heirs: Pt 1

The wedding

Summary: We know Dorian and Aelin could have been betrothed in another universe. Well in this one they are.

A/n: I had an existential crisis. Anyway. Enjoy. It’s pretty long and I haven’t been to a wedding since I was about 10 so I can’t remember what is said. And there will probably be inconsistencies in the characters because it has been a long time since I read the books. Aedion says cuz. Chaorian?? The dialogue is very repetitive.

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Dorian was to be wed to the crown princess of Terrasen.

The betrothal had been planed out since he’d been 11.

His father and Aelin’s parents and the king of Terrasen agreed it was a good decision, one to strengthen ties and secure the succession of both kingdoms.

Never thinking that they would both be marrying someone who was nearly a stranger to them.

But Dorian couldn’t do much to stop it.

Chaol thought he should just go along with it.

“From what I hear she’s quite beautiful, you could do a lot worse.”

But he didn’t get his reputation as an infamous womaniser and heartbreaker for listening to his friend.

But marriage would put an end to his adventures with the women of court. Dorian was many things. But he would not be unfaithful.

She was coming in four days, they would have a week to properly get to know each other before being wed.

Preparations for the biggest social event of the decade were under full swing. Decorations were already being put up, his father had a tailor coming tomorrow to fit him for some new outfits for the ceremony and their honeymoon, wherever they decided to go.

He stared out at the gardens currently being trimmed and cut ready for the visitors. He would go find Chaol, spar with him to take his mind off his future.

Aelin wasn’t quite scared.

More so apprehensive.

In about a week and a half she would walk down the aisle to say her vows and tie her life to that of the prince she’d met thrice.

“You will be fine, darling.” Her mother, Evalin said, watching as Aelin tried on the various dresses in hope one tickled her fancy.

This one was rather revealing, with a deep plunging neckline. She shook her head and it was taken off her.

“I know mother, but I have no idea what to expect, for all I know he could be ugly and horrid.” She knew he wasn’t. Unless he’d majorly changed in the last seven years and the stories she’d heard were wrong, he was extremely handsome and a much loved man.

“All will be well, worse comes to worse, you get divorced after a few heirs are born or you take another lover.”

“Mother.” She moved her hair over her shoulder so the dressmaker could do up the gown. “Surely you are not condoning cheating.”

She took a sip of the wine. “Of course not.”

Aelin turned and looked in the mirror.

This was the one.

It was silk and hugged her curves, the neckline showing a little bit, but not too much, with off the shoulder sleeves that gaped open at her wrists.

“I love it.” She whispered. The dressmaker smiled at her reflection.

“It’s looks wonderful on you, fireheart.” Evalin said. “Everyone is going to love it.”

The carriages had been prepared as Aelin slept. She, her mother and father, her cousin Aedion, and great uncle, the king of Terrasen, would spend the next few days travelling to Rifthold so they could get there in time for the week of celebration that was customary to precede the wedding.

The adults were going in one carriage and the cousins in another.

Aedion wasn’t happy about the marriage. He was fiercely loyal to his cousin and family and would do anything for Aelin. Evalin had taken the boy in after his mother, her cousin, had died and his father had been no where to be found.

But it was no secret amongst the Ashryver Galathyniuses that his father had been fae.

Aelin was fae too. She could shift into an immortal form.

Not that she did it often.

The carriage lurched and so began the journey.

Their first stop was in Perranth. The home of Lord Lochan.

His wife, Marion, was one of Aelin’s nurses but was travelling with them, so she had been happy for the excuse to see her daughter Elide, who was the same age as Aelin.

Aelin pretended not to notice the covert glances between her friend and cousin.

They set off the next morning and stayed at an inn in the Oakwald Forest.

Very few of the guards had slept that night with how unprotected they were.

Then finally, they made it to Rifthold.

The city was bedecked with garlands and decorations everywhere.

People cheered as the procession made its way through the streets to the glass castle. It glinted in the sunlight, massive and casting a large shadow over the city.

The carriage stopped and Aedion jumped out before taking Aelin’s hand and helping her down.

Standing in front of the large doors was the king.

The Galathyniuses walked up the steps and Orlon shook hands with the king.

“It is a pleasure to be here for the joyful union of our kingdoms.” He said.

“Yes, it will be a great one.” The king replied.

Aelin and her family followed the king through the castle and to a dining room, where four people were standing.

Queen Georgina, Price Hollin, a man she didn’t recognise, and her betrothed. Dorian.

At least the reports of his beauty had not been exaggerated.

Midnight black hair and piercing sapphire eyes, cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass, a full mouth and toned body shown off by the cut of his white shirt and black pants.

He looked every bit a charming prince.

“Princess Aelin, my eldest son, Dorian.”

Dorian walked over to Aelin and kissed the back of her hand. “My lady.”

She curtsied to him. “Prince.”

He extended her his arm and when she took it he lead to her a seat down the far end of the table.

He has lovely manners. She thought.

Dorian pulled out her chair, pushed it in and sat to her left.

The other man she did not recognise sat next to him, and Aedion sat on her other side next to Evalin.

“How was your journey?” The prince asked.

“It was well, a bit tedious, but we made it.”

Dorian nodded.

Aedion stuck his head so he could see around them.

“Who are you?” He asked, tone bordering on rude.

The brown-haired man looked at Aelin’s cousin. “Chaol Westfall, captain of the guard, close friend to Prince Dorian.”

Aedion frowned. “You look too young to be captain of the guard.”

Chaol glared right back at him. “I’m 20.”

“Let’s just calm down, okay?” Dorian said, raising his hands. “Prince Aedion, I assure you we are well protected here.”

Aelin looked at Aedion with a brow raised.

Servants brought out dish after dish. Much more than they would serve for only 9 people in Orynth, and only halfway through Aelin felt as though if she ate anymore she would explode.

Dorian seemed to notice this. “Father, do you mind if we leave the table?”

The king remained silent.

It was Orlon who said, “Let them go, enjoy some time together before they get married.”

Both of them stood up, leaving Aedion and Chaol glowering at each other.

Aelin had no clue where Dorian was leading her, but she hoped it was somewhere cool. The Adarlanian summers had a sting to them.

“These are my rooms.” He announced. “And in a week, I suppose yours too.”

He flopped down on a couch and gestured for her to sit opposite.

“I suppose you’re as joyed about his union as I am.” She said.

He raised his brows. “And how joyed are you?”

Aelin felt a blush creep over her cheeks. “Not overly, I would rather marry a man I know and for love, not for the political gain of my family.”

Dorian sighed. “I would too, but there is not much we can do, unfortunately as nobles, how we live and who we marry is predetermined for us.”

Aelin made a snort of agreement.

Dorian lied down so his head was resting on a chair arm and his legs dangled over the other. “We could always divorce once we have heirs and our parents are no longer hounding us.”

Aelin smiled. “That’s almost exactly what my mother said.”

The corner of his mouth lifted and he turned to face her. “Or you never know, maybe you’ll learn to love me.”

She looked at him incredulously and he laughed, the sound and the splitting smile turning him from beautiful into devastating. “Don’t look so disgusted. I have broken the hearts of many a woman, and once a man.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll give you mine.”

He grinned. “We’ll see.”

The next few days lasted without incident. Dorian and Aelin would go for walks throughout the gardens, or down into Rifthold to allow Aelin to get the feel for her new home, Chaol and Aedion continued their pissing contest, and the king continued to give Dorian disapproving glares, despite the fact he was doing what he had been told.

Aelin slept in a room next to his, which he understood.

He was sleeping in, two mornings before his wedding when there was a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” He called. It would have to be someone trusted or the guards wouldn’t let them in.

“Me.”

Chaol.

“Come in if you must.” Dorian grabbed the pillow from under his head and laid it over his face.

If Chaol was here this early it was not a good sign.

“Dorian.”

“What.”

“Can you remove the pillow.”

He moved it back and sat up, watching his best friend who stood in full uniform, posture ridged and correct. “What can I help you with?”

“Your future in-laws wish to meet with you.”

Dorian’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“Not sure, but I would assume they would want to know you a little bit.”

Dorian sprung out of bed and threw on a shirt, gesturing to Chaol to turn around so he could change his pants.

He froze, one leg halfway in. “My parents… they’re not meeting with Aelin are they?”

Chaol remained staring at the wall as he replied. “I know your mother wishes to speak with her, but I do not think your father cares.”

He finished putting on his pants. “If Aelin does talk with my mother, I want you to get her out of it immediately.”

“Can I turn around?”

“Yes.”

Chaol spun to face him. “You will not be able to separate them for the rest of her life, nor can you keep her from your father.”

“My father is a horrible man, and I want no one to have to go through even a fraction of what I did.” He said, grim determination on his face as he stared down his best friend.

“So please, take her to the library, the bakery, the gardens or stables, anywhere Chaol, please.”

Chaol nodded and the two friends left the room.

Dorian raised his fist to knock on the door of King Orlon’s room. He made eye contact with Chaol, who nodded, and rapped his knuckles on the wood.

The door was opened by Evalin. “You’re here! Come in come in.”

She shut the door in Chaol’s face.

Evalin looked a lot like Aelin. They had the same hair colour and those Ashryver eyes.

Aedion, Orlon and Rhoe all sat around the coffee table. He assumed the casual atmosphere was supposed to ease him, but it just made him more nervous.

“So Dorian, you excited for the wedding?” Rhoe asked, stirring his tea.

Dorian contemplated how to answer that. “I am looking forward to it, it will be something very different that’s for sure, but Aelin seems wonderful from what I’ve gotten to know these past few days, and I think we could make each other happy.”

There you go, he didn’t show resentment for the predicament, he complimented their princess, and he made a statement about how their relationship could go.

Evalin and Rhoe seemed satisfied and nodded with smiles on their faces.

“What do you hope to accomplish once you become king?” Orlon asked.

Shit. It was no longer about Aelin.

“Well, there are a number of things, I would like to smoothen our relationships with other kingdoms, both on Erilea and the other continents. And I wish to help the impoverished, make sure they can afford to eat and live well.”

Orlon nodded. “Very good. Once you marry princess Aelin, where will she fit into this?”

Back to Aelin.

“I’m not sure yet, I she may help me if she wishes to, but her time is her own.”

The king nodded. “Hypothetically, if both of you were to come into your birthrights, so if your father, myself and Rhoe were to die, what would you do in terms of titles and kingdoms?”

Dorian honestly has never thought of that. Even if his father died, there was still Orlon and Rhoe, so he didn’t imagine getting both crowns for years and years.

“I’m not quite sure, I would imagine if say my father died first, Aelin would become my Queen Consort, and then if something happened to the both of you she would also be Queen of Terrasen.”

“And you would also be king consort.”

“Maybe.”

“Would you not just divorce?” Aedion cut in. “Or merge the kingdoms?”

Dorian looked to the prince. “I would not divorce your cousin just for the succession, and combing Adarlan and Terrasen would not be sustainable.”

Orlon smiled. “Good answers, boy.”

Evalin spoke next. “Dorian, we understand this… situation may not be how you envisioned getting married, but we are grateful for your cooperation.”

He nodded.

“You may leave.”

Aelin had to meet with Queen Georgina. She was not looking forward to it.

Considering the rumours of Dorian had been true, she assumed those of his mother would be too, that she was a very vain and self centred woman.

And well,

They were right.

Georgina’s rooms were full of maidens rushing around, getting dressed and things ready for the ceremony.

Aelin sat down across from the Queen consort and wondered how this woman came to be married to the king.

“So, Aelin…” She began. “How do you find my son?”

“He’s nice, sweet, I think he would be a good husband.”

She smiled like they had some kind of inside joke. “That’s how they all start off, before you know it, you’ll be neglected, it’s nice to have options.”

“Options?” She echoed. Why did everyone think that just because she and Dorian didn’t know each other well that they would take other lovers?

“The captain of the guard is rather handsome.”

Aelin fought the urge to cringe and throw herself out the window. She quickly changed the subject. “What colour dress are you wearing?”

“Oh red and gold of course, the kingdoms colours. Much the same as you are wearing Terrasen’s.”

That was true. The gown was lovely and green with silver trimmings.

“Most of the guests will arrive tomorrow, Dorian’s cousins, the princess of Ellywe, some delegates from Wendlyn.”

Aelin nodded. She knew all this. Invites had been sent out 6 months ago.

She, yet again, wondered how many fae would be in attendance. While the fae were not being persecuted, they were still looked down upon, especially by the nobility in Adarlan. She wondered how Dorian would feel if he knew he was engaged to a faerie.

“Where are you thinking of going for your honeymoon?” Georgina asked, breaking the silence. “You will have to decide that soon.”

Aelin nodded once more. “I’m not quite sure yet.”

They sat in silence, watching the maidens and sipping their tea when someone knocked on the door.

One of the ladies in wait opened it and Chaol Westfall followed her.

He bowed to both the women. “Pardon your majesty, but Prince Dorian wishes to see his fiancée.”

Aelin stood up and tried not to run out the door.

“Just a word of advice, Aelin.” She turned back to the queen. “There are many in court who will not be happy with this union. Especially those who wanted to be the one to wed my son, so I would recommend that you always watch your back.”

“Thank you.” Aelin tipped her head and followed Chaol out.

“Where’s Dorian?” She asked.

“The library.” He replied, setting off down the hallway.

“Wait- you have a library?”

He looked at her. “Well, I don’t have one, but yes, the castle does.”

“Maybe I will move here permanently.” She mused and Chaol tipped back his head and laughed.

Eventually they made it too the entrance and Chaol opened the door for her. “I doubt he wants me there, so enjoy.”

She thanked him and set off to find her future husband.

Aelin found Dorian in the romance section, sitting in an armchair. He was holding a book open with one hand while the other rested on the back of the chair.

“I’ve read that book.” She said as way of hello.

He looked up her. “It’s good isn’t it?”

She nodded and noticed this was the only seat in this part of the library.

“I’m surprised though.”

“Why?” He moved over and patted next to him on the chair, an invitation to sit.

Aelin took it and squished in next to him, trying to ignore the heat of his body and where their thighs pressed against each other.

“Because it’s a romance book.”

He raised a brow. “Are you saying that just because I am a man, I cannot read a romance book?”

“No, of course not.” She cried indignantly.

“I’m just messing with you.” He grinned. “I enjoy reading about other people, ones who don’t have the responsibility that comes with a crown.”

“I know the feeling.” She muttered.

“You can borrow as many books as you want, keep a few in your room.”

Aelin’s face broke into a wide grin. “You’re going to wish you didn’t say that.” She jumped up from the chair and pulled Dorian after her. She ran up to a shelf and picked out a book. “Hold this.”

And so that went on for 20 minutes. Aelin would grab books and pass them to Dorian, who would occasionally give his opinion on ones he had read and thought she would like, picking out a few for himself

The traipsed back to their rooms, laughing at the tremendous amount they were carrying.

Chaol stared at them as he followed them back.

“At least you’ve found a common interest.”

“Just because you can’t read doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t.” Aelin called in a sing-song voice.

Chaol’s mouth dropped. “I can read thank you very much, I just don’t have the time to.”

Dorian gave his friend a look that said, you’re gonna have to deal with this for a long while.

When they made it back to Dorian’s room they stacked the books in a corner and grabbed one that the other had already read.

When one came across a plot twist or a funny moment the other would ask which part of the book that was and they would discuss it.

For the first time since coming here, Aelin felt that she could at least be friends with her husband.

Dorian stood on a balcony and watched the procession of guests as they were ushered into the castle, where they would be taken to the hall, in which he would be wed.

He saw the princess of Eyllwe, the crown prince of Fenharrow, his cousin Rolland-who he would need to keep away from Chaol-, a silver-haired fae prince from Wedlyn, a son of the Kaghan, some dukes and lords.

People who didn’t care that two 19 year olds were to be married to near strangers. Even if they had developed a friendship in the past few days.

He sighed and went back inside to the waiting assistants to help him into the clothes he would wear for the ceremony.

“You look stunning sweetheart.” Evalin said, hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “Like a queen of old.”

Aelin smiled and looked in the mirror. The dress was a deep green with silver lining. The stomacher was embossed with patterns and swirls and a full skirt fell to the ground. Her golden hair hung around her shoulders, unbound and in romantic waves.

Her father, uncle and cousin nodded their agreement.

Orlon stood up and walked to Aelin, a wooden box in his hands. He opened it and her eyes widened.

Inside was a beautiful tiara, silver and inlayed with emeralds, perfectly matching her dress.

Her uncle took the tiara in hand and placed it onto her head.

“Wonderful.” He said.

Aelin barely comprehended what happened for the next two hours.

She ate and talked with her family, she tried to ignore the pounding in her heart. She was led to a side room, where she would wait until the hall was full and Dorian was in place at the far end for her to walk to.

Dorian strode down the aisle, his father, mother and brother ahead of him and Chaol, as his best man, behind him.

He stood on his side of the dais in front of the officiant, looking at the hundreds of people gathered.

“Nervous?” Chaol whispered.

Dorian chuckled. “Not quite.” He was more so apprehensive at his impending nuptials.

The doors were thrown open and in walked his bride.

The breath was stolen from Dorian’s lungs.

“Ready?” Rhoe asked.

Aelin nodded. The others had already gone.

She took her father’s arm and they left the side room and walked to the entrance of the hall.

Hundreds of heads turned to see them walk down the aisle.

She was surprised to see a few fae among the crowd, including a male with silver hair and green eyes, a massive dark haired male next to him.

Aelin looked to Dorian.

He was gorgeous is a navy blue jacket and pants, a circlet upon his brow.

Rhoe lay go of Aelin’s arm and kissed her cheek. “I wish you much happiness together.” He shook hands with Dorian and sat next to his wife in the front row.

Dorian took Aelin’s hands in his own. “You look lovely.” He said, just low enough for her to hear.

“You clean up rather well yourself.” She muttered.

Dorian smirked and gave a nod to the officiant.

The grey haired man cleared his throat and began. “Dearly beloved, family, friends and guests, we are gathered here today to mark the joyful union of these two young people. Prince Dorian Havilliard of Adarlan, and Princess Aelin Ashryver Galathynius of Terrasen.”

Aelin almost fell asleep as the officiant went on his rant about how it was an honour to be here to witness this momentous occasion.

She wished he would wrap it up so they could exchange vows, and from the distant look of the assembly, they wished much the same. She locked eyes with Dorian who raised a single brow. Aelin bent her head so her hair would cover her smile.

“Now for the vows.”

Finally

“Dorian, you first.”

Dorian took the ring from Chaol’s outstretched hand and slid it on Aelin’s finger. “I swear to remain faithful and loyal, to cherish and love you, from now until the day I die, I ask you, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, to be my bride.”

“Aelin, do you take Dorian to be your husband, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

Chaol passed her the other ring and she took it, slipping it on Dorian, trying to ignore the heat of his hand and the piercing gaze of his blue eyes. “I swear to remain faithful and loyal, to cherish and love you, from now until the day I die, I ask you, Dorian Havilliard, to be my husband.”

“Dorian, do you take Aelin to be your bride, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests, by the power vested in me, I proclaim Dorian and Aelin, husband and wife, you may kiss the bride.”

Shit.

She forgot about this part.

Aelin froze as the gathering clapped and cheered.

Dorian seemed to sense her nerves, cupping the side of her face gently and slowly bringing his lips to hers, it was a light kiss, barely there, the kind that said, you can pull away now if you wish.

But for some reason she didn’t. Instead she put a hand on his forearm and pushed her lips so they were properly kissing.

His lips were soft, gentle.

She’d just gotten ready to move deeper into it when Chaol cleared his throat.

She pulled back, embarrassed, but no one was looking at them. The people at the front were congratulating their parents.

Dorian took Aelin’s hand.

“Ready?” He asked.

Her father had asked that exact word when he walked her down the aisle, now she was leaving with her husband. She nodded, still slightly flustered from the kiss, and together they walked out the hall, everyone watching them now and cheering.

They made it out of the hall and were ushered into a spare room that contained things such makeup, water, biscuits and cheese, and others that it was thought they might like.

“When are we due for the banquet?” Aelin asked.

Dorian took a sip of water. “They’ll come get us when everyone is seated, then we just walk to the head of the table and then we eat.”

She took a deep breath. “Easy enough.”

Dorian out down the glass and walked over to her. “You okay? You seem anxious.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine, it’s just, this, I guess. We’re married know y’know? We will spend the rest of our lives together.”

“Tune down the excitement would you?” Dorian smirked.

Aelin looked up at him. “I’m so overjoyed, Dorian, you are just so incredible and beautiful, it is truly an honour to be your wife.”

“That’s more like it.” He grinned.

She rolled her eyes.

When did he get so close?

Indeed Dorian was now leaning over her. “Aelin.”

“Hmm?”

Just like at the ceremony he cupped her cheek, and leant down. “You okay?” He breathed, the double meaning was there, was she okay with him kissing her.

“Yes.” The word was barely there as Dorian kissed her, wasting no time with gentle brushes, sinking into the kiss, lips and tongues moving together.

Aelin had kissed a few boys before, but none of them had been as skilled as her husband. She moaned softly into his mouth and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing their bodies flush against each other.

Dorian pulled back. “Do you-”

The door was flung open and Chaol strode in. “They’re ready for you.” He took in the compromising position, the flushed cheeks and swollen lips. “Shit- sorry… I’ll just… be outside...” He shut the door leaving the two royals.

They remained quiet for a beat before Aelin burst out laughing, Dorian following soon after. They straightened their clothes and crowns and walked out, both avoiding Chaol’s stare.

It seemed that the party had gotten underway when they were gone, people drinking and chatting and laughing, but they all turned to watch the newlyweds walk to their place.

Two seats that were like thrones sat at the far end of the middle table, usually this spot would be reserved for Dorian’s father, but today he and his wife were more important.

He held Aelin’s hand as she sat and flopped down next to her, trying to ignore the raging within him to kiss her again and continue what they started.

The entrees were served.

Dorian was bored

The mains were served.

Dorian was bored.

This was his wedding, surely he should be able to do what he does at all parties, get drunk and take a girl to bed, and he knew exactly what girl he wanted.

The one sitting next to him. With her round green eyes and gorgeous hair, the bare shoulders that begged to be bitten. If she would let him. He watched her from his peripheral, trying to find some indication she was as agitated as he was.

But she seemed to be perfectly happy, chatting with the princess of Eyllwe.

It was going to be a long night.

Aelin could feel Dorian’s heated stare as she talked with Nehemia.

The young princess had come on behalf of her parents, and said that the ceremony had been beautiful, if a bit long.

The song the band was playing changed and Nehemia grabbed Aelin’s hand. “I love this one!”

They danced together for the duration of the song, ignoring the glances of the other people.

Once it ended in favour of something slower, she headed back to Dorian, a flush over her cheeks.

He took a sip of his wine. “Did you enjoy yourself?” He asked.

Aelin grinned. “Very much, thank you.”

He watched her with such intensity she felt the flush creep back up, but for an entirely different reason.

“May I have this dance, highness?” Dorian’s cousin Rolland stood next to to Aelin’s chair, hand outstretched.

She didn’t even glance at Dorian as she took his hand and he led her onto the dance floor. “Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked.

She ignored that those were almost the exact same words Dorian said. “I am.”

He looked a fair bit like Dorian, the same hair colour, same face structure, but where the heir’s made him look beautiful and welcoming, his cousin’s was hard and serious.

The song ended and Rolland went to get drinks from the bar.

A woman Aelin had never seen before approached her.

She had dark hair and a face that seemed permanently sketched in a scowl. “So you’re Dorian’s wife.”

“Considering I just married him, yes.”

A cruel smile pulled at her lips. “We used to be a thing, he and I, he claimed he loved me.”

Aelin has seen the jealous types in court before, the women who think they have some claim to a man with a title. She had to deal with a fair few who wanted to know everything about Aedion, is he dating anyone? Does he prefer blondes or brunettes? Aelin always tried to avoid those interactions.

“That’s nice.” She said, tight lipped smile that said she didn’t want to be here. She turned to head back to her husband and ask just who this woman was.

“He’ll tire of you like he tired of me.” The woman said. “Everyone knows it is an arranged marriage, you won’t last long in his bed, he’ll favour some younger thing.”

Aelin turned back to her. “I have no intention of letting that happen, I plan to stay exactly where I am.”

She didn’t intend for the innuendo that she was in Dorian’s bed, but it caused the woman’s face to redden.

“He won’t love you, he doesn’t love anyone.”

Aelin’s gaze narrowed. “Or maybe he just doesn’t love you.”

Dorian watched Rolland dance with his wife with barely restrained rage.

When his cousin left to the bar he breathed a sigh of relief, until he saw just who approached Aelin.

Kaltain.

Aelin walked over to one of the other tables where Aedion sat.

He made the move to head over there before Kaltain intercepted him. He suppressed the urge to groan.

“Dorian.” She purred.

He nodded. “Kaltain.” Despite what she probably told Aelin, they’d never been in a relationship, though she’d made her intention on the matter clear from the beginning.

“Just had a… lovely chat with your bride.”

“I bet you did.” He muttered, gaze tracking to where Aelin was now dancing with Chaol. Bastard. He was supposed to be his friend.

“Dorian, listen if you ever want-” she placed her hand on his bicep.

“No sorry, I’ve got to go.” He extracted himself from her grip and stalked over to Chaol and Aelin.

Aelin tipped her head back and laughed. “No way you fell.”

Chaol grinned. “I did.”

The captain spun her and she saw Dorian striding for them.

Chaol pulled her back to him.

“May I dance with my wife?”

Chaol frowned at his friend. “The song hasn’t finished.”

Aelin extracted herself from his arms. “It’s fine.”

Dorian pulled her to him, placing one hand firmly on her waist.

“Who was that woman that spoke to me?” She whispered.

“Kaltain Rompier. Her father is a lord, she’s been pursuing me for years.”

“Oh.”

“How’s the wedding?” He asked.

Aelin shrugged. “It’s alright, I think it’s a bit over the top, but I do appreciate all the planning and decorum.” She yawned, a hand over her mouth.

“Bored?” He raised a brow.

“Out of my mind.” She replied in a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s been three hours since the ceremony, surely we can leave now.”

Dorian laughed and his lips brushed the shell of her ear. “We could probably sneak out, the novelty of the wedding has worn off, everyone’s just using it as an excuse to get drunk.”

Aelin shivered. “Someone could see us.”

She could hear his smirk as he replied. “And? We’re sneaking off after our wedding, something married couples usually do.” He drew out the last words so she knew exactly what he meant.

“Dorian.” She hissed.

“What?” He grinned down at her. Devastatingly beautiful.

Aelin’s breath hitched and she quickly averted her gaze. “Nothing.”

“We can leave if you want to, Aelin.” The seriousness in his tone surprised her.

His blue eyes held such severity she found herself at a loss for words. “I-”

“Dorian! Aelin!” Came a shout from the other side of the room.

They both turned to find it was his father.

Dorian looped Aelin’s arm through his and they weaved through the dancing couples.

“Father.”

“Children I would like you to meet Rowan Whitethorn.” Aelin didn’t particularly like how he called them ‘children.’

A fae male stood in front of them. He was the one with silver hair that Aelin had seen at the ceremony.

Rowan bowed to them.

“You’re fae.” Aelin said.

Rowan nodded. “Prince of Doranelle.”

“Whitethorn came to see the wedding on behalf of Queen Maeve.” Aelin detected a bitterness in the king’s words, she remembered that he held a dislike for faeries.

“Nice to meet you.” Dorian shook the male’s hand. “My wife and I thank you for coming.”

Rowan nodded. “It was a lovely ceremony.”

“How long are you staying in Adarlan?” Aelin asked.

“Just a few days. Then I have to meet with the witches.”

Witches. The blue-blooded men-eating women who primarily kept to the mountains. Aelin hoped she’d never have to cross paths with one.

They discussed a few more things with Rowan before he excused himself, as his massive friend was about to punch a lord.

Of course that left them alone with Dorian’s father.

Aelin could feel the tension in her husband, so she took his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

“I hope the both of you have enjoyed the wedding.”

Aelin nodded. “We appreciate all the planning that has gone into it.”

Aedion sauntered over to the couple. “Can I talk to you two?”

Aelin nodded and they left the king.

“What is it?” Aelin asked.

“When’s an acceptable time to leave the party?”

“You came to ask me that?” Aelin hissed.

Aedion ran a hand through his hair. “Well yeah.”

Aelin glared at her cousin. “I suppose you can go.”

Aedion clapped Aelin on the shoulder. “Thanks cuz.” He took the hand of a dark haired woman and they walked out.

“You know, if he left, we probably can.” Dorian suggested.

Aelin sighed. “I’m ready to leave.”

The prince took her hand and they snuck out of the ballroom.

They were giggling as they ran up the stairs to Dorian’s tower.

“What’s it like being married?” Aelin asked.

Dorian shrugged. “Not much different, but I know have to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Yes, but I’m fantastic.” Aelin grinned.

Dorian stopped and brought her hand to his lips. “Of course you are my dear.”

Aelin watched him kiss her hand. “You sound sarcastic.”

The prince pulled her to him, pressing their bodies flush. “Never in my life have I been more serious.”

“You’re a shameless flirt.” She chastised, but her heart wasn’t in it.

“Unapologetically.” Dorian tapped her nose with his own.

Aelin’s gaze dropped to his lips, just centimetres from her own. She slowly, so slowly, brought them so she was kissing him.

When she moved to deepen the kiss, Dorian groaned, taking her face in his hands and backing her onto the bed.

They spent the night doing the things married couples usually do. Thankfully Chaol wasn’t there to get in the middle of it this time.

Aelin woke up sore and warm. It took a couple of seconds to realise it was because Dorian’s arms were wrapped around her waist. She carefully shifted around to face him.

His inky hair was soft as she brushed it back from his forehead, mussed from her running her figures through it last night, fading pink scratches marred his biceps.

Dorian groaned as he opened his eyes. “It’s too early for this.”

“For what?” Aelin asked.

Dorian did a double take as he remembered the night previously.

The Princess of Terrasen- his wife- looked back at him, golden hair spread around her shoulders, the green eyes rimmed in gold looking back at him.

“I thought you were Chaol.”

“And why would Chaol be in your bed?” Aelin questioned.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” He groaned, flopping back. “I thought he’d woken me up.”

“By brushing the hair out of your face?”

Dorian grabbed the pillow and lightly hit Aelin in the face with it. She laughed, and wacked his bare chest.

“Ow.”

“It’s a pillow, it doesn’t hurt.”

Dorian sat up, a shit eating grin on his face. “Want to test that theory princess?”

Aelin scrambled for the other side of the bed, giggling. “No.”

Dorian grinned as he crawled, naked, across to her. “Come here wife.” He pinned her to the mattress.

Aelin shuddered. Dorian grinned, kissing her deeply.

He just got ready to take her again when the door was banged against.

“Who is it?” Aelin called.

“Me.”

“Go away Chaol.” She yelled back.

“You two need to leave for your honeymoon.”

Dorian groaned. Great.

Aelin slipped out from under him and started getting dressed. “Just think, two weeks with no Chaol.”

That snapped Dorian to attention, as he hurried to get in his clothes.

Once they were ready they walked out, hand in hand.

They’d chosen to go to one of the family’s beach front houses, there was a small town near it that Dorian claimed did the best seafood.

Both the Galathyniuses and the Havilliards gathered to wave goodbye to the newlyweds.

They set off in the carriage, smiling nervously at each other, at this new life.

That last line was really cringy. Sorry.

#just two heirs #dorian x aelin au #sarah j maas #throne of glass #tog fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction #aelin galathynius #aelin ashryver galathynius #dorian havilliard #chaol westfall #rowan whitethorn #manon blackbeak #elide lochan #fenrys moonbeam #aelin x reader #dorian x reader #dorian x celaena #I tagged the x reader tags to try and get to the fanfic sides

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zoyaofthegardvn · 2 years ago

Text

The Queen's Maidservant

Manon Blackbeak x reader

CW: Smut! 18+ pleaseee

In which Manon requests for you, a maidservant, to assist her during a bath :)

You stand hesitant outside of your Queen's bathing chamber, head lowered, hand ready to knock. Asterin, the Second in Command to the Witch Queen, had fetched you from where you had been working in the kitchens. The girls you had been working with, laughing with, all giggled and mocked you with cries of "Ooooo's" when they'd heard that the Queen had specifically requested that you be at her service this evening.

They guessed that you were in some sort of trouble. The Queen rarely calls on servants and maids, being too independent, too private to desire any assistance. Instead, you and most of the servants were free to roam the castle, the lands, as you pleased, so long as some work got done.

When Manon Blackbeak had been crowned the Witch Queen, everyone had been nervous, at first. But she'd made the Witchlands a place to thrive, and be happy. That didn't mean that Manon was any less terrifying, though.

You had swatted at your girl friends with a wet rag, giving them a stern look for antagonizing you in front of the Second in Command, who you surely thought would deem the lot of you as immature. But Asterin just huffed a laugh, then left, knowing you were going to listen.

As you made your way to the Queen's wing of the castle, you racked your brain, wondering what you possibly could have done wrong. You had served the Queen before, many times, actually, more than anyone else. Bringing her food, mending the saddle she used for her mount, Abraxos. Sometimes, the Queen would send you to deliver a letter to another part of the castle. Or, she'd send you to find a book for her in the library. Once, she even had you choose what poor, unlucky man was going to be her meal for the evening.

She wasn't unkind to you. Impatient, curt, bossy, yes. But never unkind. You had certainly done more tasks for her than any of the other maidservants. You wondered if you had somehow, unknowingly, broken the sliver of trust the Queen seemed to have in you.

When you arrived at the door to her bedroom, you had knocked softly with a call of "My Queen?" When you didn't receive a response, you had gently pushed open the door that had been cracked open. She wasn't anywhere to be seen, until you noticed the soft light from underneath the door to the bathing room.

Your stomach tightened at that, thinking, surely she does not intend for me to assist her in the bath? There must have been a mistake, perhaps she needed me later this evening and Asterin had misheard.

And so now, here you are, at the door to where you know the Queen awaits you. You struggle with wanting to serve the Queen, and with wanting to respect her privacy. With curiosity about what she wants from you, and fear that you have done something to offend her.

Taking a deep breath in, you finally decide to knock. Just as you pull your hand back, prepared to lower it on the door, you hear a voice call out, "I know you're out there, Y/N. Do come in."

Your heart is hammering now. Of course she knew you had been standing outside the door, she'd probably caught your scent when you were halfway down the hallway.

Clearing your throat, you grasp the doorknob, twisting and pushing in. You briefly spot Manon's head resting on the back edge of her huge, clawfoot tub. Her eyes appeared to be closed, and you could see faint steam radiating from the tub before you dropped your head, lowered your gaze.

"M-My Queen, how may I assist you this evening?" You internally scolded yourself for stammering, not wanting to know how awkward you feel, being in the same room as the bathing Queen.

Manon releases a humming sound, and you can hear the water slosh as she moves around a bit, picking her head up from where she was resting.

"Why so formal, maidservant?" She sounds like she's teasing.

You grow flustered, confused. "I... My Queen... I do not mean any offense, and I do not wish to invade your privacy. I was fetched by your Second, she said you requested my services...?"

Manon gives a short, quick laugh. "I know why you're here."

When you don't respond right away, Manon grows impatient. "Look at me when I speak to you."

Your stomach drops, face growing hot and red. Finally, you lift your head. Manon is staring straight at you. Her white hair is wet, a few strands sticking to her face and neck. You can see her collarbones, glistening from the steam. But thankfully, the rest of her body is obscured not only by the side of the tub, by what you can tell is... bubbles. You hadn't expected to find the Witch Queen taking a bubble bath, but you suppose it does not matter if she is not going to allow you to leave this room alive.

"My apologies, my Queen. I did not wish to make you uncomfortable." You're sincere when you say this, not knowing what limits the Queen has with her servants.

One of Manon's hands, which is resting on the edge of the tub, begins to extend its claws. They're not at their full length, just slightly pointed. She clicks them against the porcelain, eyes trailing up and down your body.

"I've called you here so that you may assist me with my bath." Her voice is sharp, husky.

You try to resist the urge to screw your face in confusion, but your eyebrows furrow slightly, and you cannot help but say, "Why?"

Manon arches a pale brow, her jaw tightens. Before she can speak, you immediately attempt to counteract the damage you've done. "I-I mean, my Queen, you have not required assistance with a bath before," Manon's face doesn't look any less displeased, and so you continue, "And there isn't anything wrong with assistance, my Queen..." again, Manon just stares. "I just wonder if... you're alright. Or... why you requested that I assist you...?" Your voice trails off at the end, and you bite your lip in anticipation, expecting her to lash out at you for your insolence.

"Do you believe yourself to be in any position to question me?" Manon asks.

You swallow hard, eyes yet again returning to the ground. "No, my Queen. I am so, so sorry. I will assist you in any way you wish."

Manon does not answer for a moment, leading you to lift your head slightly, to see if she's preparing to strike. She hasn't moved from her spot, still staring at where you stand.

Finally, Manon gives one quick nod. "You cannot assist with my bath from over there, can you?"

You shake your head, "No, my Queen," stepping forward a few paces, until you're within arm's length of the tub, you ask, "Where would you like me to begin, my Queen?"

She scoffs, settling back into the tub. "I think you know what a bath entails, and stop saying 'my Queen.' I get so sick of it."

"Y-Yes, my Q-," you stop yourself before you can finish. "I mean, yes of course. My apologies."

You take just a few more steps forward, until you are standing at the edge of the tub, looking down at the Queen. Your cheeks flush red at what you can see of her body, though most is obscured by the bubbles. You can see the tops of her breast, just the very top edge of her pink nipples. Her knees are bent, her soft legs exposed, shining from the water. She's got her head resting back on the tub, a washcloth used as a cushion. Her eyes are closed, and she looks alarmingly relaxed and peaceful. You know that she's a predator, one of the most feared, but you can't help but note how vulnerable she appears.

You lower yourself onto your knees, a bit hesitant to reach out and touch her. You dip a hand into the water, testing the warmth. It is quite hot, warmer than you would make your own bath, but not unbearable.

"Shall I start with your hair...?" You speak so quietly, unwilling to disrupt the calm in the room.

Manon gives a grunt of approval, sitting up and moving forward to allow you access to her moonlit strands.

When she sits up straight, her breasts are nearly entirely exposed. You suck in a sharp breath of air, diverting your eyes elsewhere. Her breasts are full and perky, nipples soft and pretty. They glisten from the wet, stray bubbles clinging on.

After a moment of composing yourself, attempting to tame the fire in your belly, you reach a shaky hand to her long hair sticking to her back. You're sure to keep your eyes on the back of her head, resisting the urge to peer over her shoulder.

Her hair is thick and soft, and when you reach both hands forward to pull it all back from her face, you swear you hear Manon hum in content.

Grabbing the shampoo from a glass jar on a small table nearby, you dump a small amount in the palm of your hand before returning your touch to her hair. You start at her scalp, working the soap into her roots. Using your nails, you give gentle scratches to her head, starting at her temples, working until you're at the base of her neck. She bends her head forward a bit to give better access, and you move the suds down the rest of the length, hands brushing against the skin of her back.

When you're satisfied with the cleanliness, you softly ask, "Will you lean your head back, my Q-," you stop yourself before you can disobey her order, "You will you lean back, so that I can rinse?"

Manon chooses to not address your almost slip up, instead, scooting forward even more, her eyes still closed. She grasps the sides of the tub, then lays backwards until nearly her entire head is submerged. The water line dances around her face, her cheeks a bit flushed from the warmth.

At her actions, though, her entire chest has become exposed. At the sight of her breasts, you feel your stomach tighten, your arousal begin to grow. You have always found the Queen beautiful, have always been attracted to her. You never imagined you'd see this much of her.

You shake your head, fearing you have stared too long, that she'll notice where your gaze has fallen. You cup some of the warm water in your hands, careful to avoid the bubbles, and bring it to the top of her hairline. Once the top of her hair is thoroughly cleaned of shampoo, you run your hands through the hair submerged in the water. Manon's eyes flutter throughout the process, but they do not open.

Finally, when you're satisfied, you pull your hands away, eyes falling to her breasts again briefly before you clear your throat and tell her she can sit up now.

This time, when she moves, she does open her eyes. The water sloshes as she sits up, and she turns to face you.

"Is my naked body distracting you, Y/N?"

You feel stunned, caught and scared. 'I-I.. no, not at all. No, I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I ju-"

Manon cuts you off with a roll of her eyes, clicking her tongue. "Relax, maidservant. I'm not going to kill you for seeing something you clearly desire."

Your heart is pounding, eyes are wide. You sound terrified when you ask, "What?"

Manon just smirks at you, a wicked glint in her eyes. "Continue with the bath." She closes her eyes again, turning her head forward.

You feel confused, and nervous. Unsure of what exactly just happened. But of course, you do what the Queen says.

Reaching for the conditioner, you repeat the process you followed with the shampoo. Except this time, you're more conscious of where your eyes fall. When the conditioner is fully worked in, you pick her hair up, resting it on her shoulder so that it may sit, and not wash away in the water.

At this point, most of the bubbles have dissolved. Her body is nearly entirely exposed and you're struggling to not let your thoughts turn lewd, inappropriate.

"Shall we let that sit? I can return in a few moments, to wash it out." You ask her, already rising to your feet.

Manon grips your wrist where your hand rests on the side of the tub, preventing you from standing. "And what of my body? Do you not wash your own while your conditioner sits?" Her jaw is clenched, an eyebrow raised.

"Y-Yes of course, I just thought that you may want to do that part yourself."

She looks properly angry now, and her tone is tense when she speaks. "I called you here to assist with a bath, I thought you were entirely competent. But, perhaps I was wrong..."

Your heart sinks at her words, you feel mortified and desperate to make it right. Terrified that the Queen will see you unfit for duty, that she'll banish you from the castle, from work and your friends, you scramble to say, "No, of course not. My apologies, it won't happen again. We'll wash your body."

Manon gives you a sharp nod, and you know that this is it, you cannot mess up again.

You settle back onto your knees, leaning to grab a washcloth and the lavender scented bar of soap. You wet and lather the rag slowly, putting the soap back on the table before turning back to Manon.

You raise the washcloth to her back, rubbing gently in small circles. You bring the suds up to her shoulders, the back of her neck, before running it downwards. To your surprise, she releases a small groan.

"Are you alright, my Queen?" Your voice is quiet, and shaky.

Manon doesn't acknowledge the title, only saying, "I'm fine. Just sore, you try riding a beast for nearly three days straight."

You smile a bit, knowing how much she adores her Abraxos. "It seems very taxing, I'm sure a hot bath feels nice, then."

Manon just hums, her muscles becoming visibly more relaxed.

You continue with her back, your hand had momentarily paused its movements. When you reach the waterline, though, you still.

Manon can feel where you've stopped, and so she rises to her knees, allowing you to wash the rest of her.

You take a deep breath in, eyes settling on her backside. She's slim and muscular, her ass firm and round. The water drips down her back, running across her cheeks. You want to lean in and lick it from her.

You reel your thoughts back in, attempting to concentrate. You trail the washcloth further down, coating her in lavender smelling suds. When you finish, you get to work on her arms. You start at her shoulders, working down to her hands. Once satisfied, you know that the next step is to wash her front.

You bring a hand up to rest gently on the back of her waist, signaling that you're moving on now. She turns a bit, and you meet her halfway.

It's nearly impossible to not get distracted by her chest, her toned stomach, the hint of abs. But you manage to keep your eyes on her collarbones as you bring the washcloth up, running over her chest. The water and soap drips down, the lavender smell almost too good to resist leaning in.

You work down, working the soap over her chest gently. Her breasts bounce a bit as you clean them, her nipples harden when you trace the washcloth over them. You can't help but wonder how'd they'd feel in your hand.

You imagine how soft they'd feel, how they'd spill over your cupped hands because they're so full and plush. You imagine how beautiful she'd look with red and purple marks coating her pale skin, how she'd look with her chest heaving while you sat on top of her. How'd they look swaying in your face as she rode you.

You push the thoughts from your head, working the cloth down to the underneaths of her breasts, then down her stomach. You swallow hard when you reach her thighs, the water and soap clinging to the patch of white hair at her core. You run the cloth over it quickly, gently.

Finally, you pull away, looking back up at her face. She's staring at you intently, the corners of her mouth threatening to turn into a smile.

"You may sit back now, and bring your legs up if you'd like me to wash them, too." You say to her, knowing the redness of your face is obvious, the cause of it, too.

She sits back down in the tub, leaning against the back to raise one of her legs in the air. You start at her foot, working the cloth in circular motions on the bottom of it, then the top, then her ankle. You run the cloth up her smooth calf, the bottoms of her thigh that isn't under the water. When you finish, you push her leg down gently, signaling that it's time for the other one.

When the entire process is finished, you note that the water has begun to grow cold. "Let's wash your hair out quickly now, I don't want you to have to have a cold bath."

Manon gives a soft "Hmm" in agreement, sitting forward so that you can wash her hair.

You try and work quickly, but her hair is so long and thick. When her hair finally feels void of conditioner and soap, you stand up. Reaching for the drain, you pull it up and allow the water to begin to escape.

You can feel Manon's eyes tracking every move you make, and you work hard to not look at her, knowing your eyes will stray.

"I will grab you a towel, shall I also find you a nightgown to wear, my Queen?"

"The gown won't be necessary." Her voice is husky, and you shiver a bit at the thought that Manon prefers to sleep naked.

You nod politely, and scurry off to the chest of drawers in the bathroom. While finding a large towel, you hear what's left of the water splash as Manon steps out of the tub.

As you settle on one soft to give her, you recognize the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching. Her bare feet are padding the hard ground softly, audibly dripping wet.

You finally turn to face her, towel clutched in your hands. She's looking directly in your eyes and it's difficult not to flinch under her gaze.

She nods to the towel in your arms, "Well, are you going to dry me?"

You swallow the lump in your throat, nodding your head rapidly. There isn't much distance between the two of you now, but you take the rest of the steps required to close it.

Shaking hands reach out, placing the towel on top of one of her shoulders. She watches you closely, and you keep your eyes trained on her body as you move the towel down, collecting the water droplets. You do the same to the other arm, then you bring the towel to her chest.

As you rub the towel into her skin, you can't stop the desire in your gut from forming as you feel her breasts through the towel. Working your way down, your mouth almost waters at the sight of her cunt and her strong thighs.

You're breathing hard by the time you step around her, drying her back and her ass, too. Her hair is heavy and wet, and when you're done, you wrap the towel around her hair and squeeze, ridding it of the access moisture weighing it down.

When done, you take a step back, admiring her backside for one more second before you bring your eyes back up. "All done, would you like me to clean up the bathroom before I take my leave?" She had dripped a fair amount of water onto the ground as she had approached you.

Manon turns to face you and furrows her brows in confusion. "Leave? Why would you leave? I am still wet, maidservant."

Now, it's your turn to look confused. "I'm sorry, my Queen, but I'm not sure what you mean..."

Manon steps impossibly closer, the two of you nearly chest to chest. She's a head taller than you, so you crane your neck to look up at her. The towel drops from your hands at the sudden proximity, and you wonder if you've done something to really upset her.

Manon moves faster than lightning, her hand darting out to grasp your wrist. You gasp at the suddenness, wondering what she plans to do.

Her grip is tight as she pulls your hand closer to her body, lowering it until your fingers are brushing through the white hair on her cunt, until they're making contact with her wet heat.

"I said, 'I'm still wet, maidservant.' What are you going to do about it?"

Your heart is hammering, wetness immediately beginning to gather between your thighs. Your chest is heaving from where you're breathing heavily, and your hands are trembling. "M-My Queen, I'm so confu-"

Before you can finish your sentence, Manon is surging forward and kissing you passionately. You don't move for a second, too shocked to react. But she's pushing you back until you hit the wall, never releasing your lips from her own.

After a moment, you let your desire take over. Though still muddled with confusion, you close your eyes and give in to the kiss.

It's hot and feverish, desperate and uncontrolled. She's released your hand so that her own can grip your face, and she's pressing her body into yours.

Her tongue begins working at the seams of your lips, and you open them so that your tongue can dance with hers.

She pulls back for a second, letting both of you catch your breath. "Are you still confused?"

"Yes, entirely," Manon laughs at your statement, at the fierce red blush of your cheeks and the confusion in your eyes, "Are you sure that you want... this? To do this with me?"

Manon smirks before speaking, her eyes flitting down to your lips before looking back up at you. "I've found you attractive for a long time, and I see you stealing glances at me when you think I don't notice. Why should we not?"

Your mouth gapes open in shock, unable to form a sentence, you just stutter and make a fool of yourself. The Witch Queen desires... me?

Manon doesn't need a response, though. She knows that you want this.

Her lips attach to yours once again, and she bites on your lip before making her way down. Her lips trail across your jaw, to just underneath your ear, where she takes your earlobe in between her teeth, giving it a gentle tug.

You can't help the moan that escapes you, your hands coming up to grip her upper arms. She continues her descent, sucking harsh marks onto your throat and collarbones.

She peers up at where you've tossed your head back on the wall, where you've let your eyes flutter shut. She grins when they dart open at the feel of her pulling away.

She takes a few steps back, and you let your eyes roam over her naked body in earnest now.

"Beautiful," is what you whisper under your breath at the sight.

"Go into the bedroom, stand at the end of the bed." Manon's orders are direct and leave no room for argument. Not that you would, anyway.

You nod your head, then turn to open the bathroom door, pushing it open and entering the bedroom. You cross the room to stand at the foot of the bed as she instructed, turning to face where she now stands in the doorway.

Her eyes rake over your clothed body, and you grow a bit insecure. Your hair is a bit damp with sweat from the heat of the bathwater, and your plain dress is stained from working in the kitchens.

Manon doesn't seem to mind, though, as she begins walking closer.

You watch how her thighs move with every step she takes, how you can see wetness on the insides of them. You watch her abs flex, her tits bounce, and her face turn wicked.

Then, you spot how she extends her iron claws on her right hand. You swallow hard, eyes zeroing in on the sudden appearance of her natural weapons.

When she's finally close enough to touch you, she brings her hand up, trailing a claw from just underneath your eye, down your throat, and to your collarbone.

She doesn't really use it, though, until she's at the top of your dress.

Quicker than you can blink, she's slashing your dress down the middle. You gasp as it falls to the floor, body instantly struck with the cool air. You bring your arms up, attempting to cover your now bare chest.

Manon will have none of this, though. "I think it's only fair that you're undressed too, no?"

You shiver from the exposure and just stare at her, not responding.

"I asked you a question, maidservant. Do you think it's fair for me to be naked, and for you to not?" She takes another step forward, not breaking eye contact.

Finally, you stutter, "N-No, I-I suppose not."

Manon smirks, it's all malice and no warmth. "Good. Now, drop your arms."

You hesitate for a split second, but you cannot deny that you want her to see you. You want many, many things from the Witch Queen.

You do as she says, bringing your arms back down to your sides.

Instantly, Manon's eyes drag to your chest.

You try not to be insecure. They're large, and gravity has not been kind to them. They're covered in stretch marks, and you cannot help but think of all the teasing you endured growing up, as you filled out your body, growing thick and full.

You wonder if Manon minds, the angry red marks. The fact that your stomach is not flat, that your thighs are dimpled and touching one another.

As if sensing your negative thoughts, Manon places her iron claw, which she's shortened, underneath your chin. She tilts your face up, forcing you to look at her.

"I've wanted to fuck you for a long time, Y/N. Tell me, do you want to fuck me, too?"

You swallow, hard. Your heart is pounding, skin flushed with desire.

"Y-yes, my Q-," you stop yourself, remembering how she dislikes the title. "Yes, Manon."

Her grip tightens on your chin, her eyes narrow. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, I want to fuck you, Manon." Your voice is a near whisper, laced with lust. Your eyes flick downwards, to her lips. Lips you very much want to kiss again.

And so, you do. Leaning forward, Manon drops your chin as your lips meet, instead choosing to wrap her arms around your bare frame. Your plush body meets her toned one, and it feels like a fire's been lit in your belly at the feel of her nakedness against your own.

Manon's hands wander down your body, claws shredding your flimsy underwear, the last item on your body. Her hands knead your full ass, and you moan into her mouth at the touch. She takes the opportunity to push her tongue into your mouth, taking your make out further for a few moments, before she's pushing you down onto the bed.

You hit the mattress with a small huff, and Manon pulls away from your lips to trail kisses downwards. Her lips begin sucking a mark under the curve of your jaw, leaving small red and purple splotches in her wake as she covers the expanse of your throat and collarbones.

She continues, leaving open-mouthed kisses across the top of your chest. Her hands come up, pushing your large breasts into cleavage as she kneads and toys with a nipple. Her mouth occupies the other one, sucking and lightly nibbling with her teeth.

You're writhing on the bed underneath her, quiet pants of her name falling from your lips as you tangle your fingers in her hair. She releases your nipple with a pop, bringing her eyes up to meet your gaze.

"What do you want, kitty?" Her mouth covers your other nipple, removing her hands to give it the same wet attention as the other breast.

Your chest arches into her mouth. "More, please," you moan, aware of how pathetic you sound.

She smiles against your breast, it's devious and it makes your wet heat throb. She pulls away, sitting up and pinching at your nipples with both of her hands, aided by the wetness her mouth has left.

Her eyes take in your body, your swollen lips, red and parted as you pant. Your chest, covered in her marks, full breasts bouncing as your chest heaves. She bites her lip and smirks. "You're fucking hot, Y/N, do you know that?"

You shake your head no, and she growls a bit in disappointment. She shuffles down your body, gripping your thick thighs and pulling them open. She groans at the sight of your cunt, your pubic hair glistening with your arousal. The smell hits her, and her mouth waters with the need to taste you.

One of her hands travels the large expanse of your stomach, squeezing the flesh of your hips and curves. She trails across your bellybutton, and brings her thumb down to the hood of your clit. She places pressure there, but not nearly enough. Nevertheless, you whine at the jolt of pleasure, bucking your hips.

She hisses, her other hand grabbing one of your thighs, digging her nails in just a bit. A warning, for you to stay still.

She spreads your legs even wider, then settles onto her stomach between your thighs. Your eyes go wide at what she's about to do, and she makes sure to make eye contact as she spreads your lips apart with her thumbs, purses her lips, and spits right onto your clit. You gasp at the dirtiness of the action, and Manon grins in wicked delight.

"I'm gonna make this cunt mine, understand?"

You nod your head rapidly, wanting nothing more than to belong wholly to Manon.

Clearly, this displeases her. She lands a smack to your pussy, and you jump at the sting, whining at the pleasurable pain. She glares at you, "I said, do you understand?"

You groan in frustration, "Yes, yes, I understand!"

She hums, finally satisfied. "Good, and don't you dare move too much."

And with that, she's lowering her mouth to your cunt. She licks a few stripes with her tongue, from your sopping wet hole, to your swollen clit, and back again. Her strokes are light and teasing, and they have you biting your lip at the gentleness of it.

Then, she flicks her tongue along your clit, hard, up and down motions. You jerk, and again, she's digging her claws into your thigh. This time, you get the faint sensation she may have drawn blood.

She pulls back, and you look down, just to see her lick her lips and mumble against your lips, "Whose pussy is this?"

She sucks your clit into her mouth, hard, but slow sucks on the bundle of nerves. Your head falls back and your eyes flutter closed, "Yours, Manon, it's yours."

She sucks faster at your response, then brings an unclawed hand up, pushing her middle finger into your entrance. Despite how wet you are, you're still so tight, so she pushes slowly, eventually burying her slender finger into your contracting walls.

She holds still, focusing on working your clit with her mouth, until she slowly starts to gently thrust. Her pace is torturous, and when you finally moan out a cry for more, she begins to thrust faster. Her mouth hasn't left your throbbing clit once, and a coil is winding in the pit of your belly.

She can feel you clenching, hear your moans grow louder and louder. When she adds a second finger, curling in a come-hither motion, your arching off the bed, hands flying to her hair, pushing her deeper into your pussy. You expect her to scold you for it, but she moans against you, alternating between sucking your clit and flicking it.

When you become dangerously close to falling over the edge, you moan Manon's name, "I'm gonna cum, Manon, fuck."

She nods slightly against you, fingers fucking you wildly, mouth sloppily working your clit.

You cum all over her face, tightening around her fingers, chest heaving and a loud cry of her name falling from your lips. You're moaning with reckless abandon, uncaring if someone were to hear how well she's fucking you.

You're coming down from your high, but Manon isn't stopping. She pulls her fingers from your cunt, only to move her mouth down, choosing to fuck you with her tongue, now. You gasp, and try to push her head away due to the oversensitivity. She growls a warning into your heat, swatting your hands away, then using her fingers on your throbbing clit.

Quicker than before, you're on the edge of yet another orgasm. You're panting her name like its a prayer, mumbling, "'S'too much, fuck, Manon."

Manon doesn't care. Her plan was to show you who your pussy belongs to, and she continues to do exactly that.

Between her wet muscle rapidly fucking in and out of you, and her fingers rubbing harsh, tight circles on your clit, it's no surprise you don't last long. For the second time in just a matter of minutes, you're climaxing all over your Queen's face and hand.

This time, she relents, allowing you to come down, slowing her pace, before pulling away from you completely. You sigh in satisfaction, raising your head to look down at her, still laid between your spread legs.

She looks to your thigh, and you follow her gaze, confirming that she had, indeed, drawn blood with her clawed grip. You don't mind, it's not much of anything, just a few trickling droplets.

Your mouth drops open, eyebrows raising just a fraction when Manon leans in and licks the drying blood from where it's ran down the expanse of your thigh. And even though you'd just had two very intense orgasms, the sight makes your lower belly ache, full with desire for her all over again.

Manon rises to her knees, climbing back up your body. She braces herself on her hands, hovering above you, just barely out of reach. You huff at the tease, reaching up to grab her and pull her down.

She chuckles into your mouth as you kiss her, tasting your desire still on her tongue. Your hands roam her back, feeling the toned muscles. She sits herself on your lower abdomen, and you move farther down, kneading her ass and hips.

When she moans, you take the opportunity to pull back, tugging on her lower lip with your teeth.

You work your way up, until your hands land on her perky breasts. You massage them, rubbing your thumbs back and forth over her pretty pink nipples.

"You gonna let me make you cum, now?" You ask, husky and thick.

She smirks, biting her lip at the stimulation to her nipples. "Hmm, I suppose so."

You quickly rise to a sitting position, Manon leaning back to allow you to move easier. You lean forward like a woman starved, desperate to taste her skin.

You pull a nipple into your mouth, tugging it with your teeth before soothing it with your tongue. Manon's hands fly to your hair, urging you deeper into her chest. One hand works her other nipple while the other squeezes her ass.

Manon's pants and sighs urge you on, bringing your mouth to the other nipple to give it the same attention.

Eventually, Manon pushes you back down by your shoulders, shooting you a grin before she starts making her way up your body. You realize exactly what she's planning, and your stomach flutters in excitement. While she's adjusting herself, you give her ass a small smack, hoping she likes that. When she shoots a glare down at you, you grin, knowing she's not truly upset you. You file away that information for later, that Manon likes a bit of hitting, because you are truly hoping that this happens again sometime.

When her knees are on either side of your head, you place your hands on her thighs, bracing her and urging her to lower herself down. She sees how you eye her wet cunt, and she grabs some of your hair in her hand, making you look up at her.

"Are you gonna make me cum, kitty?"

You nod enthusiastically, licking your lips in anticipation. She hums, then finally, she lowers her hips.

You waste no time, licking through her lips excitedly. She jumps at the contact, then settles back down. You work through the length of her cunt a few times, one hand moving to her ass, squeezing it and pushing her deeper into your mouth.

Your tongue begins working quick circles around her clit, and she starts moving her hips back and forth along your tongue. You hum into her heat, encouraging her to ride your face like she clearly wants to. You pull away for a brief second to catch your breath and mumble, "Make me yours Manon, use me however you want," before you're burying your face into her wetness once again.

Manon doesn't need to be told twice, grinding herself down, riding your pretty face the way she'd been wanting to for so long. You moan into her, and the vibration quickly brings her closer to the edge.

You slip your tongue into her entrance, your nose nudging her clit with each roll of her hips, encouraged by the firm grip you have on her hip and ass.

"Fuck, Y/N," Manon moans, her head tossed back and eyes closed shut. You can tell from her voice that she's so close, and you pull your hand back and land another smack to her ass to encourage her. She gasps, and after a few more rolls of her hips, she's gushing all over your face. You lap at her cunt softly as she comes down from her high, eager to continue if that's what she wants.

But, Manon sits herself back up, panting at the intensity of her orgasm. She moves back down, then she bends so that she can connect your lips once more in a kiss. This time, the kiss is softer, not as full of heat as the others had been.

She moves to lay beside you on the bed, but hovers above you, pecking your lips several times before you speak. "Are you done already?" Your voice has a teasing tone to it, and you bite your lip to hold back a smile. "I think it's only fair you get to cum twice too, yes?"

Manon grins, clearly pleased that you care so much about her pleasure. "Maybe I wanted this to be more about you than it is about me?"

Your eyebrows scrunch in a bit of confusion, wondering why she seems to care so much for you.

She senses the question you don't dare to ask, and she tucks a loose lock of hair behind your ear before speaking. "You've always caught my eye, Y/N, since I met you. And in more ways than just your looks. Is it so surprising someone would be interested in you?"

You want to say, yes, it is surprising someone could be attracted to me. But that isn't what confuses you the most. "Y-You're the... Queen..."

Manon raises an eyebrow at you, as if to say, "So what?"

"What does that matter? I'm still a person with desires, like anyone else."

You can tell by her tone and the look in her eye that she's sincere, if not by the attention she'd just paid to your body. You nod, not sure how to respond with words.

She kisses you again, then wraps her arms around you, pulling you into her still bare chest.

"Get used to this, maidservant, we will be doing this again."

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shadowdaddyazriel · 2 years ago

Text

Night Cap (rowaelin x manorian smut)

Warnings: this is just pure filth. foursome m/m/f/f etc etc. lmk what u thinkkkk

Across the bar, a shimmery blonde had been eyeing Manon for some time now. She had intense turquoise and green eyes, and a wicked smile to match. She was mesmerizing, tossing her hair and chatting animatedly with her hands to the bartender when he came over.

Beside her, a huge male leaned his arms on the bar, eyes closely watching the blonde’s every move like he just couldn’t get enough of her. He had silver hair and a swirling black tattoo that started at his temple and disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt. The two kept snagging Manon’s attention, squirming in her seat when they met her glance.

The bartender walked away and the blonde caught Manon’s eyes once more. A slow, sly grin spread across her face as she leaned over to whisper something in the male next to her’s ear. His eyes immediately flicked up to meet Manon’s and she almost went liquid under his intense stare. Her cheeks were on fire. The male nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.

The blonde stood up then, walking around him, trailing her fingers lightly across the top of his back as she went. Spinning on his stool, he stood to follow her, his height towering over hers. The two headed for the dance floor, directly in Manon’s eye line. A thrill shot up her spine as the two began to writhe against each other on the dance floor, the blonde grinding her ass against the huge male’s lap. Manon’s jaw loosened at the sight, her eyes utterly fixated on the blonde’s form as she arched back into him, and the possessive way the fae male gripped her hips.

Manon felt Dorian’s minty breath on her ear as his arms wrapped around her. She hummed, leaning back into him. He smelled divine and male and hers. Manon wanted to lose herself in him, to play out every fantasy she’d imagined when looking at the fae couple dance together.

“See something you like, witchling?” Dorian purred into her ears. She let a shiver snake down her spine. Dorian had always been open to exploring Manon’s sexual desires. A small part of Manon wondered if Dorian hadn’t wanted to just as much as she had.

When she looked back at the dance floor, the couple was gone. She fought the urge to let herself sag in disappointment. Her brow furrowed. She’d been sure the couple was propositioning them, but perhaps she’d read it all wrong.

“Is it true?” A high, clear voice called from behind Manon. She turned to find the blonde behind her, the fae warrior wrapped around her and towering over her. Dorian gave them both a wicked grin, looking back and forth between Manon and the blonde like it was solstice morning.

“Is what true?” Manon asked, eyebrow arched. Her voice was deep and sensual.

“That ironteeth pussy is as good as they say?” She said, a sinful glimmer filling those beautiful eyes of hers. Manon’s stomach heated and she felt Dorian’s hand slide across her lower back.

“Better,” Dorian drawled. The blonde and her fae both looked shocked but definitely, definitely intrigued.

“Wanna find out for yourself? Quench that curiosity?” Manon smirked at her. The blonde eyed her, clearly liking her confidence and handle on her sexuality.

“I’m Aelin, this is Rowan,” she said, gesturing to the man behind her.

“Manon.”

“Dorian.”

“Rowan’s flat is two blocks away if you care for a nightcap,” Aelin cooed. Manon looked at Dorian, who shrugged. Taking that as a yes, Aelin slid her hand into Manon’s, lacing their fingers and tugging her towards the door.

Back at Rowan’s flat, Aelin poured them all drinks, passing them out. They all sipped, feeling the warmth resetting in their stomachs. Manon wasn’t nervous, exactly. She’d been a part of group sex a few times in her long life. Something about Aelin and her confidence, though, seemed to call to her.

“And you, pretty boy?” Rowan asked, his voice a deep rumble reverberating in his chest. Dorian’s head shot up to take in the fae warrior. A corner of Dorian’s mouth pulled into a crooked grin.

“What about me?” He asked.

“Do you fuck as good as you look?” Rowan asked. Dorian’s grin was utterly feline. He quirked up an eyebrow at Rowan.

“Wanna find out?” Dorian saw the flash of lust in his green eyes, with no small amount of pride. Dorian aimed to please in the bedroom, and Manon had no doubts he would be utterly performing for them all by the end.

Aelin tipped her head back, draining her cup. She sensually lowered herself to her knees, looking up at Manon from under her lashes with a wolfish smirk. Manon looked down her nose at the queen.

“Crawl to me,” Manon commanded. She saw the shiver run down Dorian’s spine at her words. Aelin looked as though she were about to start purring. She languidly crawled across the floor on her hands and knees to Manon.

She placed her delicate hands on Manon’s knees, gently pushing them apart and baring Manon’s drenched panties to her. She groaned, sliding her hands up Manon’s thighs and under her skirt. On her knees between Manon’s legs, Aelin pressed her mouth gingerly to the witch’s. They moaned breathily into one another’s open mouths. Their wet, warm tongues lapped against one another, discovering and devouring.

Still kissing Manon, Aelin slid her hands higher up Manon’s skirt, wrapping her hands around the sides of Manon’s panties, and sliding them down her legs and off. She turned, slingshotting them into Rowan’s lap, who looked seconds from pouncing on them both but was remaining patient. Dorian just looked like his smug and charming self.

Aelin tugged Manon closer to the edge of the couch, pushing her legs even farther apart, putting her soaking wet pussy on display for them all. Dorian bit his lip and Rowan’s eyes darkened at the wetness between her thighs.

“You smell divine,” Aelin purred, the flat of her tongue dragging up the center of Manon’s pussy with a feral groan. “And taste even better.” Manon panted, lacing her hands at the base of the blonde’s head, pushing her face impatiently back to her core. Aelin chuckled, the vibrations making Manon writhe against her.

Aelin’s tongue dipped inside Manon’s hole, fucking her with her mouth. Manon’s eyes rolled back into her head in ecstasy. Dorian palmed himself through his pants at the sight, painfully hard already.

“Hey, Buzzard,” Aelin murmured to her mate, “come get a taste of her before I keep her all to myself.” Rowan eagerly obliged, walking over to drop to his knees before the witch. He was so muscular and devastatingly beautiful Manon almost came at the sight of him bowing before her before he roughly gripped her thighs, tossing them over each shoulder. He looked up at her, locking in her stare as he kissed from her knees down to her pussy with wet, open-mouthed kisses. Rowan began fiercely sucking her clit as Aelin situated herself, straddling Dorian’s thighs.

Aelin gasped as she ground down against Dorian’s covered cock. Manon watched the look on his face as his jaw dropped open, parting his perfect pink lips. Aelin licked a stripe up his neck before pressing her mouth to his, placing her tongue in his mouth, still covered with Manon’s wetness. Dorian moaned at the familiar taste, and a shockwave of pleasure filled Manon’s belly.

Manon gasped as Rowan landed a harsh smack to the side of her thighs. She looked down at him wide-eyed. He lifted his head, her wetness coating his chin. Gods, he was like a god among men.

“If I’m going to eat your pussy, you’re going to give all that attention to me,” he snarled. “Look at me. If you look away or close your eyes, I stop and you don’t come.” Manon felt a thrill rip through her at the challenge.

Manon panted in anticipation, Rowan’s warm mouth only inches from her core. The cold air hitting her wetness was driving her mad. She writhed against him, but he didn’t budge.

“I require acknowledgment, little witch,” he growled, turning his head to harshly sink his teeth into her thigh. She gasped at the pressure and light flick of his tongue.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Yes, what?” He barked.

“Yes, sir,” she whimpered. She wouldn’t call him anything else. Those other names were only for Dorian. Who was currently whimpering under Aelin’s touch desperately. Manon wanted to look, but she wouldn’t disobey him, needing to come too badly.

He gave her another rough smack to her thigh.

“Good girl,” he snarled, using his thumbs to open her pussy to him, groaning at the sight of her. He licked her like she was a delicacy, her legs still thrown over his broad shoulders. He flicked his tongue against her clit in a way that had her screeching and squeezing her thighs against the sides of his head, which she discovered he liked very much.

“Filthy girl gonna get herself off on my thigh?” Dorian hummed from a few feet away where Aelin’s legs straddled his powerful thigh, relishing the friction of his jeans. “My pussy aches for you,” she whined.

“It’s my thigh or nothing,” Dorian directed. “Rub that pretty pussy against my leg and show me just how bad you want me.” Manon loved when he used that commanding tone with her. Her mouth opened slightly, feeling her orgasm building when Rowan immediately pulled his mouth away from her.

She whimpered, arching and crying out for him. She’d looked away when he told her not to. She couldn’t help it. The sight of Aelin and Dorian was so intoxicating. “If you’re going to act like a little brat, I’m going to treat you like a little brat,” he fussed.

“I’m sorry! I’ll be good I promise, please touch me,” she practically begged. He gave her a hard look before leaning down to lick her.

He held her open for his tongue with one hand and palmed his throbbing cock through his pants with the other. Manon barrelled toward her climax at a blinding speed. She watched Rowan as he palmed himself and worshipped her cunt with his tongue. She screwed her eyes shut with a cry, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes as Rowan kept sucking her too-sensitive clit. She tried to push his head away, but he was having none of it.

Manon felt Dorian’s phantom hands wrap around her wrists and pin her hands behind her back, leaving her utterly at Rowan’s mercy, of which he had exactly none. He sucked her clit roughly, sending her into her second climax. Tears streamed down her face and she howled like a banshee at his tongue lapping against her. He didn’t stop until he’d devoured every drop of wetness from her swollen cunt. Then, thank the gods, he allowed her to collapse back into the couch to catch her breath, dropping her legs from his shoulders.

Rowan stood, walking to where Aelin still ground against Dorian’s cock through his jeans, a wet spot smeared across the front of the fabric. Manon wanted to lick it off. She chewed her bottom lip.

Rowan’s hand gripped the hair on the back of Dorian’s head, roughly jerking his head back until his lips parted. Dorian’s throat on display for her, Aelin suckled at it. Rowan spit into Dorian’s mouth, a mixture of his saliva and Manon’s cum dripping from his lips to Dorian’s tongue. Dorian swallowed with a deep growl.

Rowan made to pull back, but Dorian stood, pulling Aelin with him. Aelin wrapped her legs around his middle as he smashed his mouth fiercely against Rowan’s. Rowan kissed him back forcefully. As Dorian licked the roof of Rowan’s mouth, Manon took advantage. She lowered herself to her knees in front of Rowan, pulling at his belt.

Still kissing Dorian, he helped her with his free hand, shoving his pants off and kicking them away. He quickly ripped his shirt over his head. With shared smirks, the rest of them followed suit, abandoning any clothing left on them.

Manon swirled her tongue against the pink head of Rowan’s massive cock, lapping up his pre-cum greedily, eager to taste more of him. He was delicious. His breathy moan was even more delicious. She wanted to hear that sound forever. Licking the underneath of his cock from his balls to his tip, she swallowed him deeply into her throat, relaxing and taking him to the hilt.

His entire body shuddered as he instinctually tried to pull her off, but she swatted his hand away, caressing her tongue against the base of his cock. He bit back a whimper, squeezing his eyes shut and throwing his head back.

Having none of that, Dorian reclaimed his mouth. Feeling left out, Aelin forced her way in, the three of their mouths moving together as Manon swallowed Rowan’s cock. He jerked under her touch, panting and a sheen of sweat coating his chiseled chest.

“Fuck,” Rowan snarled, an angry look on his face. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you, little witch.” She hummed in excitement, the sound vibrating the cock still lodged deeply in her throat. Rowan grimaced at the pleasure.

“Tie her hands behind her back,” he commanded Dorian. Manon couldn’t see him, but she already knew Dorian had that goofy grin on his face she loved so much. The face he made when he toyed with her and edged her to the gods.

Manon’s hands snapped behind her back forcefully and she pulled back, allowing Rowan’s cock to exit her mouth. Strings of saliva still connected her to him. Rowan wrapped a massive hand around the base of himself, squeezing hard.

“Both of you on the couch,” Rowan demanded to Dorian and Aelin. “You’re going to touch yourself for me to see while I fuck her pretty little throat like a cocksleeve.” Gods, she loved Rowan’s filthy mouth. It almost rivaled Dorian’s. Dorian stroked his hard cock, grinning like mad at Manon. She loved him so much she felt like she might burst. She knew he would always allow her to do whatever she wanted, just as long as he got to tag along.

Rowan pressed a thumb against her lips, directing her focus back to him. She opened her mouth for him. He pressed a thumb roughly to her tongue, grabbing her jaw to hold her in place. He slid the head of his cock down her throat, not waiting for her to be ready. He released her jaw to grab the sides of her face.

He gave a few tentative thrusts to allow her to find his rhythm, and then he wasn’t gentle with her. Which is exactly what she liked. He impaled her throat over and over. Every time he bottomed out, she swallowed, clenching her throat tightly around him.

With the way she was sucking him, he wasn’t going to last long. She supposed he hadn’t expected her to know how to suck cock the way she did. Many, many years of practice were on her side there. Dorian moaned from the couch. He watched the way drool dripped from Manon’s mouth as Rowan fucked into her.

Rowan jerked her off him roughly, gasping and grabbing the base of his dick tightly, trying to keep himself from coming. He closed his eyes as he panted, trying to recenter. Manon grinned at Dorian, who winked at her. Dorian heavily benefitted from Manon’s bedroom experience.

“Why don’t you come sit that pretty cunt of yours on my face,” Manon said, raising a seductive eyebrow at Aelin. Did she just… blush? Oh, Manon liked that. She’d do whatever it took to see it again.

Manon laid back on the soft carpet, propping her legs to expose her drenched cunt to Dorian where he still sat on the couch, slowly gliding his hand along himself. Aelin chewed her bottom lip, swinging a leg on either side of Manon’s head. But Manon was having none of her sudden shyness. She gripped her soft thighs and pulled her down onto her face. Gods, she was so wet.

“This all for me, princess?” Manon praised. Aelin nodded fiercely, grinding her wet pussy against Manon’s open mouth. Manon offered her tongue and Aelin fucked herself on it, legs already twitching with pleasure.

“Your tongue feels so fucking good,” Aelin panted out.

Manon felt the head of Dorian’s cock notch at her entrance, slowly gliding upwards to spread her wetness to her clit. He teased both of them, rubbing his dick slowly through her folds. When he slowly began to push inside her, she moaned loudly against Aelin, which had her giving a high, feral keen. Manon chuckled as Aelin bucked wildly against her mouth, legs tensing on either side of Manon’s head.

Dorian fucked her slowly, just as distracted by Aelin as she was. Manon could feel Dorian’s cock twitching inside her as he hit her cervix, pushing so deep she could feel him in her stomach. Aelin came with a screech, collapsing off of Manon, who used a finger to wipe Aelin’s wetness from her chin and push her finger into Dorian’s mouth.

Rowan positioned himself behind Dorian, a bottle of lube in his palm. He slathered his cock in the lube. He landed a harsh smack to Dorian’s ass as if announcing his presence. Dorian pushed all the way inside Manon and stilled. Manon chewed her lip as she watched every whimper and moan fall from Dorian’s pouty lips until Rowan was all the way inside of him, just as he was inside of her.

Rowan bucked his hips into Dorian, which pushed Dorian further inside Manon. She cried out, grinding against his cock. Aelin positioned herself on the side between Manon and Dorian. She lowered her mouth to flick her tongue over Manon’s clit lazily. Manon arched off the floor, squeezing around Dorian tightly, which wrought a string of curse words from him.

“Fucking do that again, my god,” Dorian panted. Rowan pulled out to the tip and roughly fucked back into Dorian’s ass. Aelin obliged, sucking Manon’s clit with a fierceness that rivaled her mate’s. Manon writhed and cried, her senses overstimulated with the pleasure.

“P-please, I can’t,” she begged.

“You can and you will,” Dorian growled. “You can take it. My good girl.”

At his words, she came, milking Dorian, who roared with his pleasure.

Rowan gritted his teeth, fucking Dorian harder, smacking his ass again, but harder this time. Hard enough to leave a handprint on his ass. Manon knew Dorian loved that shit. He always loved when she marked him up.

Aelin glided her tongue against the base of Dorian’s cock as Manon slid her fingers between Aelin’s legs. She was so wet that Manon easily slid two fingers inside her, fucking her with her hand. Aelin hummed her approval, bucking against Manon’s hand as she turned her attention back to Manon’s clit.

“F-fuck, I’m not going to last,” Dorian yelped.

Rowan wrapped his hand around the front of Dorian’s neck.

“You come when I fucking say you come,” Rowan snarled. Dorian’s eyes rolled back in his head as Manon twitched uncontrollably underneath him, her climaxes just rolling into each other at this point as she pulsed around Dorian.

Aelin closed her eyes as Manon pressed her thumb to her clit, rubbing while she fucked her cunt with her long, slender fingers. Aelin cried out, gripping Manon’s fingers as she came. Manon kept her movements going until Aelin physically jerked back from overstimulation.

She lay back against the couch, legs spread wide and revealing her abused pussy to them all. Rowan grunted, looking at his wife spread out like a feast. Rowan gripped Dorian’s throat again.

“Fucking come. Now,” Rowan commanded, voice breathy.

Dorian whimpered as his back arched, spilling his cum inside Manon’s tight cunt. Rowan pulled out of Dorian, once again clutching himself to keep from coming. It must have been painful by then.

He pressed his cock into Aelin’s pussy with a hitched gasp. He fucked her gently, bringing himself to the precipice and spilling inside of her, burying his face in her neck. Dorian pulled out of her, watching as his seed dripped out of her.

“So fucking good for me, witchling,” he purred, rubbing his thumb across her bottom lip.

They eventually showered and reclothed themselves with shaky legs and tired eyes. Dorian carried Manon the few blocks back to their apartment, murmuring sweet nothings in her ear the whole time, reminding her exactly who he belonged to, no matter who they had fun with. And goddamn, was it fun.

245 notes · View notes

dawninlatin · 8 months ago

Text

Queen of Peace, chapter 20

A manorian High School AU

Words: 2,5k | AO3 Link | Masterlist

Summary: Manon Blackbeak is flawless, untouchable. From the outside at least. Her grandmother pushes her to achieve greatness, and she doesn’t let anyone get too close in fear of being hurt. How can anyone love her when not even her parents could?

Dorian Havilliard has always felt safe and confident around his friends. He might not have the greatest of families, but with Aelin and Chaol by his side, nothing can go wrong. That is until he tries keeping his greatest secret from them.

What will happen when Dorian and Manon gets to know one another? Can two lost souls find their way back together?

cw: animal abuse, verbal abuse, violence, panic attack

I feel nervous in a way that can’t be named

I dreamt last night of a sign that read «The End of Love»

-Florence + The Machine, The End of Love

Dorian was normally against the concept of Sundays. Aside from being the most boring day of the week, Sundays always made him feel weirdly sad and anxious. Another weekend was coming to an end, and he hadn’t enjoyed it to the fullest, and then there was Monday, getting nearer and nearer, looming over him with all its responsibilities and assignments.

This Sunday, though, could last forever, and Dorian wouldn’t mind at all.

He was cuddled up in bed, watching some trashy reality show. That in itself wasn’t unusual for him, but what made this Sunday so different was the fact that Manon was cuddled up with him, currently leaning against his chest and laughing from the show she «could watch for his sake but would need to bleach her eyes, ears and brain after being exposed to».

It was well past noon, but neither cared to get up just yet. They’d left the party at Aelin’s at an ungodly hour, after all, making it back to Dorian’s and sneaking in as quietly as possible to avoid waking his mother and brother.

«I wish this weekend could last forever,» Manon sighed after a while, twisting in his arms until they were face to face.

She looked breathtaking in that moment, Dorian thought, with her swollen lips and tousled hair, her golden eyes bright. Images from last night flashed through Dorian’s mind, and he felt himself harden at the memory of how her bare skin had felt against his.

Manon must have felt it too, judging by the way she now smirked and shifted a little, so that she was fully straddling him. Dorian let out a groan at the sudden friction, his cock going from half-hard to ready and aching in a matter of moments, and his hands moved to grip Manon’s hips, guiding her against him in a rhythm that had them both panting.

«We could just never leave my room? School can go fuck itself, for all I care» Dorian suggested with a shrug. Manon’s answering chuckle was quickly interrupted as Dorian brought his lips to hers in a hungry kiss, a gasp escaping her she tasted him.

«Sounds like a great idea,» Manon managed to get out between kisses, still grinding against his hard cock. Dorian let a hand drift under the t-shirt she was wearing, his t-shirt, and moved it upwards, until he found one of her breasts. He brushed a finger against her peaked nipple, and Manon let out a low moan at the sensation.

Manon sat up, hands moving to lift the t-shirt over her head, and gods, the day Dorian died, he wanted this to be the last image he saw; Manon, sitting astride him, arms lifted and glorious tits on display, face flushed and moon-white hair falling down her back.

Sundays might not be so bad after all.

It was already dark outside, by the time Manon left Dorian’s, having spent all day cuddled up in bed, alternating between sleeping, mindlessly watching TV and exploring each other’s bodies.

She’d even met Dorian’s mother, Georgina, which had been a surprisingly pleasant experience. They’d had to venture into the kitchen to get something to eat eventually, and Dorian had been sure they were home alone, from how quiet it was, but the moment they’d stepped out of his room, the front door had opened, his mother and brother back from wherever they’d been.

Dorian had assured her, earlier, that if they ran into his mom, she wouldn’t mind, but Manon still felt mortified as she stood there, hand-in-hand with Dorian, her cheeks bright red. She’d been wearing his shirt, for fuck’s sake! They might as well have had a blinking sign over their heads saying «We’ve spent all night having sex!»

Luckily, Dorian’s mother had been nice enough to not make any teasing comments (at least not while Manon was there, but she’d gotten a text from Dorian exactly one minute after she’d left, begging her to come back and save him).

Instead, she’d pulled a blushing, mortified Manon into a warm hug, telling her how nice it was to finally meet this «friend» Dorian kept talking about.

She’d been even more delighted when Dorian, just as blushing, had stammered out a «she’s my girlfriend, actually». The conversation had ended with Dorian’s mother insisting she come over for dinner some day, and Manon surprising herself by finding she actually wanted to.

All in all, it might have been the most embarrassing experience of her life, but it had also been kinda nice. It helped that Dorian was absolutely adorable when flustered.

As she walked home,Manon tried to think of the last time she’d had this lazy of a Sunday, and quickly found that she couldn’t. It didn’t fill her with panic and restless energy, though, like it normally would have. A weekend like this was exactly what she’d needed, after a long, stressful week. Especially when next week would be just as bad, with her grandmother coming back and all.

Merely thinking about it was enough to ruin Manon’s good mood. She’d be back to constantly walking on eggshells, constantly keeping her mask on, constantly lying to keep her grandmother pleased.

Only a few more months, Manon reminded herself. Then she’d be free.

Gods, if her grandmother had known what she’d been up to for the past day-

Manon smiled to herself as she thought back to last night, already looking forward to the next time she’d be home alone, but then she turned down her own street, her house becoming visible, and the smile quickly disappeared, along with any joy she felt, dread taking it’s place instead.

The lights were on.

Could her grandmother have come home early? Manon’s heart raced at the possibility, especially when she had no idea of knowing how early.

As she got closer and closer, she tried to rationalize, tried to keep the panic at bay.

She could have forgotten to turn the lights off yesterday? But Manon knew that wasn’t the case. She never forgot.

Some small part of her hoped that Asterin had come back, and she pictured walking into the house, her cousin greeting her, asking her what she’d been up to, as if nothing had happened. They would make dinner together, like they’d used to, and when Asterin suggested they watch a movie together, Manon would finally say yes, forgetting her homework for once.

It was that delusional hope that drove her forward, kept the fear from consuming her, even if she deep down knew the truth already.

Because as she entered the house, as she stepped into the living room, it wasn’t Asterin greeting her.

Manon forced herself to look her grandmother in the eye, to seem as unbothered and unafraid as possible, as the elder woman demanded, «Where have you been? It’s late.»

«Just dancing, I forgot the time,» Manon hastily replied, the lie easily slipping off her tongue. It had become so rehearsed lately she didn’t even have to think, and she begged whatever higher power might listen that it would work this time as well.

But Manon realized, before her grandmother had even spoken, that it wouldn’t, from the way her grandmother’s eyes darkened.

«You’ve been dancing since last night?»

Shit.

This was the moment she’d been waiting for. Dreading.

Manon swallowed audibly, trying to come up with a good answer, something to get her out of this mess. «I-»

«Don’t even try lying to me, you ungrateful brat!»

Her heart was racing, and she was sure it would burst out of her chest at any moment, but all she could do was stand there and take the verbal beating that was sure to come. There was no way she could lie her way out of this, no plausible reason for why she’d been away all night.

«The moment I go out of town, you start acting like an irresponsible slut, is that it? You are nothing but a disappointment! I expected you to do better, be better, but then you go and whore yourself just like your mother and that pathetic cousin of yours, throwing away everything I have done for you!»

«I’m sorry,» Manon whispered, eyes locked on her feet as she wished for the ground to open and swallow her whole. The familiar feel of shame and panic filled her, like all the other times she’d stood before her grandmother like this. Frozen. Powerless. And this time, there was no way out of it.

Manon thought of the countless times she’d been in this exact position, apologizing for whatever wrongdoing had aggravated her grandmother this time, of how she time and time again pushed herself beyond her limits to please her, yet it was never enough, and suddenly found herself feeling angry, more than anything.

The anger filled her veins, drowning out the fear and giving her courage. Enough courage for Manon to do something she’d never done before.

Lifting her head and meeting her grandmother’s furious gaze, Manon spoke with a surprisingly calm voice, «If you’ve done such a good job at raising me, you should trust that I know what I’m doing. Having fun and being a teenager for one gods damned night doesn’t mean I’m throwing away my whole future.»

Her grandmother seethed, her expression shifting into something darker, something dangerous, but Manon must have lost her mind already, because she didn’t back down, didn’t cower, even as her grandmother yelled, «How dare you talk back to me?! You are nothing but a worthless piece of shit! I should-»

But before she could continue her furious rant, she was interrupted by a loud yowling, Abraxos marching into the room at the worst possible moment.

And just like that, Manon’s heart stopped, her courage reduced to nothing as her grandmother’s hateful gaze slowly shifted from Manon to the cat. The woman tolerated his presence in the house at best, but for him to interrupt her like this, when she was already so angry…

Before Manon could react, her grandmother harshly grabbed Abraxos by the neck, yanking him up from the floor. The cat hissed and scrambled to get free, but her grandmother’s grip was too tight. Manon couldn’t breathe, this wasn’t happening-

«I never should have allowed this fucking creature into my house!»

«STOP! Please, you’re hurting him!» Manon begged, her vision blurring from the tears gathering, threatening to spill over.

Her grandmother’s eyes focused back on Manon as she screamed, Abraxos still being held in an iron grip, and the panic in his features shattered Manon’s heart into a million little pieces. She would never be able to forgive herself for this.

«Please,» she tried once more, willing her voice to calm. «I’ll do better, I promise. I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again! Please!»

«Fine,» her grandmother spat out, and Manon let out a sigh of relief, hastily brushing away a stray tear that had managed to escape.

Manon had stupidly enough expected her grandmother to then gently put the cat back down, before continuing her rant, but that wasn’t what happened.

Instead Manon’s grandmother gave her a malicious smile, before she flung Abraxos at the nearest wall. Manon let out a cry as the cat hit the wall, then the floor, with a painfully loud thud.

It was only a matter of seconds, but it felt like hours, where Manon’s heart stopped beating, where her lungs stopped breathing, where Abraxos lay on the floor, completely still.

Her mind had never been so quiet before, never been so loud. This wasn’t happening, she couldn’t lose-

Then the cat moved, scrambling out of the room.

Manon trembled, completely paralyzed as she stared at the spot where Abraxos had just been. She registered her grandmother stalking closer, until she was right up in Manon’s face, registered the hissed «If you ever cross me again, I’ll make sure that pest doesn’t make it out alive», registered her grandmother then walking away, but Manon couldn’t bring herself to answer, to move.

All she could do was stare, and stare, and hope she woke up from this nightmare soon.

It wasn’t until she heard the door of her grandmother’s study slam shut that her body started moving, taking her to her room. Manon had no control over her movements, feeling as if she was viewing her body from the outside.

As soon as she’d crossed the threshold, she carefully closed the door behind her, then made her way towards the bed with robotic movements, slowly lying down on her side.

He’s not dead, she repeated to herself, over and over again, as her breaths became more hurried, more shallow. He’s not dead, he’s okay, he’s notdeadhesokayhesokay-

Even in her panic, Manon could feel something warm settle against her, and it was this that finally broke her.

Between quiet sobs, she managed to whisper, «I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you. I didn’t mean to get you hurt. She’ll never hurt you again. I promise. I’m so sorry.»

Tears blurred her vision, and she couldn’t fill her lungs properly, but she kept stroking the soft fur, kept apologizing, hoping he would understand.

This had all been Manon’s fault. Abraxos had been home alone for 24 hours, and Manon had left him plenty of food, but of course he would want attention as soon as he heard someone in the house. She shouldn’t have stayed so long, shouldn’t have been there at all-

She was careless, stupid, worthless-

The tears kept falling and her body kept shaking. She tried to gather her thoughts, tried to come up with a plan, but her mind was utter chaos. Everything had gone so wrong in such little time. The only thing grounding her was the steady rise and fall of Abraxos’ chest, proof he was okay, proof he didn’t hate her for letting her grandmother-

She’d almost lost him today.

And had the rational part of her mind worked in that moment, she might have felt a little pathetic for being this attached to a pet, but Abraxos had been there since she was a child. In periods of her life, he’d been her only companion, her only comfort, while growing up under the roof of this monster.

She’d almost lost him today.

Manon couldn’t let it happen again.

Even if it meant going back to spending every waking hour working to meet her grandmother’s expectations, going back to being careful, never stepping out of line.

She couldn’t risk anyone else getting caught up in this mess, getting hurt because of her.

She only hoped he would understand, if not tomorrow, but some day, that this was for the best. Him hating her, was for the best.

Only for a few more months, she repeated to herself, like a mantra, through the hours of the night, until she finally fell asleep, Abraxos having settled on top of her chest.

A/N:

Where do I even start?

First of all, it feels good to be back with my yearly update of this fic (I wish I was joking, at this pace I'll finish my college degree before I finish this fic...) As usual, the chapter is posted in the middle of the night, no editing, half asleep-

Second, Abraxos, my boi, you'll get revenge, I promise!!! I'm so sorry and I love you<3<3<3 I was in high school when I outlined this fic, and remember thinking "This chapter will hurt to write but you can give your cat lots of cuddles after<3" What 16-year-old me didn't think was that it might take me a while to write (4 years), and that I would be moved out at that point, really far away from my cat *crying*

Anyways- Feel free to leave a comment, either here or on tumblr, even if it's just yelling at me:):):)

See you next year I guess

Taglist: @fireheartfaery @bookishwitchling @celestialend @darklingswhxore @onfma @sayosdreams @rowaelinismyotp @rainbowcheetah512 @wishfulimaginings @dreamlandreader

#manorian #dawninlatin qop #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #manon x dorian #throne of glass #sarah j maas #manorian fanfiction

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rufousnmacska · 2 years ago

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Firsts

A manorian one shot that has all my usual tropes. I have a long standing head canon that Manon secretly watches Dorian a lot. She thinks it’s just out of curiosity since he’s a human. And that’s part of it, but there’s a bit more 😏. Also, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about all the first times they didn’t get in the books. So here are some, thrown into one fic.

Thanks to @mrstrafalgardshanks (for sparking some parts of this fic) and @itach-i (for her beta reading and constant manorian trashiness)! ❤️❤️

***

The heavy rain darkened the red of her cloak, turning it into a deep wine color. This was lucky, Manon thought. The cloak was the best way to hide her white braid and allow her the freedom to sneak in without being seen. A group of merchants sped by, heading for the castle entrance, and she jogged to catch up with them. The guard waved them in out of the weather, not looking twice as she pretended to be with them.

She’d never been in the castle. At least, not this part. She’d watched his balcony for hours that one night so long ago. Then she’d seen his bedroom. After it was destroyed by that Yellowlegs bitch. Manon grinned, remembering how Abraxos had disposed of the witch’s wyvern with one snap of his ironteeth. She’d never been able to feel remorse over that. Not when Dorian had been so close to his end.

They’d written, but this would be the first time seeing each other since the war. Manon had decided on a whim to come, and here she was. The sleepless nights had caught up so quickly. Meetings with her council passed without much input from their queen, and she’d begun to forget things. When Petrah offered to oversee the Wastes, to give Manon a break, she hadn’t argued. If nothing else, her kingdom deserved a queen who could remember the orders she’d given. A few days away might bring her back to herself.

Watching Rifthold’s people filter through the entrance hall into the throne room, she peered through her hood at the faces. The nobility and upper classes wore the usual pinched expressions of wealth and privilege, making her wonder how closely they’d allied themselves with Erawan to survive the war with their riches intact. The thought made her cheeks heat in rage.

The others, civilians wearing dingier clothing and awed looks at their surroundings, had suffered. These were the residents left homeless by the witches and valg king. Conscripted into Erawan’s monster army, set free by Southern Continent healers, and likely left with no memory of those months. If they were lucky. It struck her how difficult his job as king would be in the coming years.

As Manon skirted around the walls, she remembered Dorian’s most recent letter. He’d written about the nightmares he’d been having, images of pain and hell inflicted by his own hands. Images of those hands morphing into his father’s.

Perhaps that was why she hadn’t argued with Petrah. It made a good excuse to come here. To check on a friend.

A loud, vivacious laugh caught her ear and she saw Yrene across the crowd. Quickly, Manon pulled her hood a little tighter, hoping the material was still dark enough to blend in.

The line to speak to the King was long and enough people had come simply to watch that Manon was able to get into the throne room unseen. Taking a spot in the back corner, she resisted the urge to stand on something in order to actually see the throne.

She didn’t know why she was sneaking. It felt ridiculous. Childish.

But the thought of having planned a visit, or being received as the Witch Queen, with all the pomp and attention it required, made her skin itch. She’d considered waiting for him in his rooms and surprising him. But after sending Abraxos away to hunt at the city wall when they’d arrived, she’d heard about the Audience with the King happening that day. It would be boring, of course, watching Adarlanians petition Dorian for things or settle disputes. But her curiosity had been piqued. As a queen, she’d wondered how his court was run and thought this might be a good learning experience.

She hadn’t really thought it through though. It was impossible to hear and she could not get a clear view of him no matter how high she stood on her toes. There were simply too many people.

About to give up and go find a way into his rooms, Manon pushed through the people in front of her. Suddenly, and for just a moment, there was a break in the crowd.

Dorian was sitting at a table, Chaol next to him along with others. Advisors, she guessed. The throne sat empty behind him. A couple was speaking to him, gesturing wildly to a snarling merchant. Dorian wrote quickly while the others at the table listened.

When he finally looked up, she got her first sight of his face in months.

His black hair had grown, curling around his crown. But other than that, he looked the same - bronze skin, a quick smile, and sparkling blue eyes. Even from this distance, the sunlight caught his eyes.

But no, she realized, as something else sparkled too. He was different.

His crown.

She’d never seen him with it on.

It was a thick band of gold with three large stones, rubies, set along the front. Simple, but well crafted. There were designs incised along the band but she couldn’t make out the detail.

He looked like a king.

Her king.

The break filled in again and she was shuffled aside, back against the wall. Growling under her breath at the rudeness, she regretted being disguised and almost reached for a dagger.

As she turned to leave, that thought - her king - fluttered into her mind again. But she pushed it away and focused on the shove by the crowd, letting her annoyance take over as she left the castle.

…

Dorian closed his door and sagged against it, exhausted by the day and so many people. This was the fourth audience held in Rifthold since the war. After the first one, he’d called for a table and abandoned his throne, wanting to actually get something accomplished. He’d started the practice with the hopes of letting his people see him, speak to him. Trust him. And while that seemed to be happening, albeit very slowly, a part of him was regretting it.

It was the same part that longed for the adventures and romance that he read about in his novels. The part that wanted to be a normal man, anonymous and irresponsible.

But that part was small enough that he could tuck it away and forget about it.

Not the longing for romance though. Golden eyes, moon white hair, a fleeting smile given only to him. That was something Dorian refused to forget, even if it might not ever happen.

We’ll see.

Those two words spoken with that not-quite-there smile. Manon had looked at him, smiled at him, when she said them. The hope she’d sparked that day still filled him. Especially on nights like this when he was dead tired yet afraid to try and fall asleep.

Pulling himself away from the door, he strode through his outer rooms into the bedroom. Dorian glanced at his desk and thought about writing to her. But he’d just sent a letter last week. He should at least wait for a reply. With a laugh at himself, he thought he should try to maintain some semblance of control.

Grabbing a glass, he poured himself some wine and stared at the mess around his desk. Piles of books, papers, even some containers of soil that were given to him by a farmer at the last audience day. The man insisted his additions to the soil would improve crops across the kingdom. Dorian kicked at one, telling himself he needed to look into the claim.

After draining his wine, Dorian put the glass atop a stack of novels and reached for his crown.

“Leave it on.”

Dorian spun, his magic noticeably not flaring to defend him.

Manon sat on his bed, back against the headboard, her bare feet crossed, a book open in her lap.

As he stared at her, trying to decide if she was real or a figment of his imagination, she stood and walked toward him.

Her eyes, glowing in the light of the fire, caught on his crown. “It looks good on you,” she said.

Real. Her scent, her presence, her voice filled him.

“Hello witchling.”

Manon smiled then. A true smile. For him.

“Hello princeling.”

She reached for his jacket and pushed it off his shoulders. Dorian watched, using every bit of self control he had to let her undress him. It struck him that they’d never done this before. Every other time had been hurried, either to avoid the cold or to pretend there was nothing between them. Hell, they’d never even used a real bed.

So he let her slowly unbutton his shirt, let her remove her leathers, enjoying the show she made of it, his eyes drinking her in, her eyes never leaving his.

And when she led him to his bed, he kept his crown on.

…

The next morning, Dorian woke early to send two messages - one to Chaol canceling all his meetings that day, and one to the kitchens for enough food to last until tomorrow. Then he returned to bed, where Manon still slept.

Later, when they were enjoying a very late breakfast in in bed, he caught her smiling. “Is something funny?” he asked lightly.

Manon bit into a piece of bacon and looked around the room. He followed her gaze but saw nothing amusing.

“I’ve never spent a day lazing around in bed,” she finally replied. “Unless I was injured. I suppose with all your many lovers, this is nothing new for you.” She was teasing him, but he responded seriously.

“You’ve never done this? Never wanted to stay with someone after?” He saw the answer in her face, the way her smile faded. Pushing the tray of food away, he pulled her onto him, her legs straddling his waist. “Ask me who I will do this for now,” he demanded.

Manon said nothing, but the heavy rise and fall of her chest gave away her excitement.

Dorian kissed her, using his magic to pin her hands behind her back and yank her closer while his real hands tangled in her hair. Her teeth scraped over his lip and he moaned.

“Ask me.” His voice was rough and commanding as he freed her mouth to speak.

Barely a whisper, she said, “Who.”

He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, letting her squirm in his lap as his magic caressed other spots. When she groaned, a mix of pleasure and annoyance, he said, “Just you, witchling. No one else.”

…

Manon was so close to the edge, driven there by his lips and phantom touch and the sharp demand in his voice. But those words pulled her back. The promise, the declaration of … something … something they couldn’t say. Yet.

The thought of that yet made her soften in his arms. He felt it and dropped his forehead to rest on hers. “Just you, princeling.” She saw his smile, his relief.

That promise, that declaration in her words cracked a barrier inside her. Slowly, tentatively, she cupped his cheek and said, “Tell me about your nightmares.”

Dorian’s eyes flashed, either from her touch or the question. But instead of answering, he ran a knuckle under both of her eyes. “Will you tell me about yours?”

Manon nodded.

Then he kissed her, so softly and tenderly, it could have been her first kiss. It took her a moment to open her eyes and when she did, Dorian was smiling at her. She couldn’t help but return it, and soon they were laughing, at what, she didn’t know. But it felt good. Right.

They spent the rest of that day and night in and out of bed, never leaving his rooms.

Dorian taught her how to luxuriate in a hot bath, kept warm by his magic. Manon taught him how to properly sharpen the dagger Sorrel had given him a lifetime ago. He showed her the symbols on his crown, which was heavier than she’d expected.

They spoke of their nightmares, of how last night was the first time either had slept, truly slept, in forever. They shared their worries of ruling, each boosting the resolve of the other.

The next day, they had breakfast with Chaol and Yrene. Their baby stared at Manon, making her fidget in her chair despite Yrene’s reassurances that Josie was always like this with new people. Everyone watched, Chaol nervously and Dorian amused, as Yrene sat the babe in Manon’s lap.

Manon held her carefully, not wanting to drop her. Josie reached for Manon’s braid and tugged on it playfully. When she cooed, everyone laughed. That was when she realized she’d never held a baby before. She wondered how different her life, the world, everything, would be if Asterin’s witchling had lived.

Sensing the change in her mood, Dorian reached over and took Josie, distracting them all by bouncing her on his knee until she broke into a fit of giggles. Manon caught his eye and he winked at her.

A day later, Manon said goodbye to her new friends. And Dorian. It was harder to leave this time than it had been in Orynth. He walked with her to the city wall where she’d find Abraxos. They were both hooded and cloaked to avoid stares. And he held her hand - another first, and probably not the last - as he led her through streets and alleyways.

But she would return. And he would visit her. Soon. Because they’d both agreed, though not with words, that this time together had been important. They needed each other. And while she didn’t understand the full implications of that, yet, she knew it felt right. He felt right.

Her king, and his queen.

***

Thanks for reading!

Fanfic master list

And to the anon/s who sent a few requests a while back, thanks for your patience! I’ll try to get to those soon. 🤗

#manorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #throne of glass #my writing #sarah j. maas #manorian fanfiction

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shipperoffanonships · 7 months ago

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I MISS THEM, OKAY?!

Soooo here's a little dedication....

To Asterin, with her wild and fiery temperament,

To Sorrel, with her strong and solid prescence,

To Vesta, with her deceptive charm,

To the Demon-Eyed twins, Faline and Fallon,

To the Shadows, Edda and Briar,

To Lin, with her violent nature,

To Thea and Kaya, together for eternity,

To Ghislaine, with her razor-sharp intelligence

To Imogen, with her fearlessness and loyalty,

And to Manon, who died a little when they did.

#throne of glass #tog fandom #the thirteen #manon blackbeak #asterin blackbeak #sorrel blackbeak #tog fanfiction

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shadowhandss60 · 3 months ago

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Manorian Filth one shot 🧍🏻‍♀️

Enjoy

#throne of glass #dorian havilliard #manon blackbeak #manorian #sjm universe #manon x dorian #sarah j maas #mind TW #manorian fanfiction #manon blackbeak fanfiction #dorian havilliard fanfiction #tog fanfic

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throneofsmut · 7 months ago

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Just Breathe

Poly! Manorian x Reader || WC: 1.9k || Warnings: Smut

Summary: Things get heated between Manon and reader and Dorian joins. Based off this request.

****

You were sparring with the training dummy in the training room of the Glass Castle, for hours now. And yet still you showed no sign of stopping or slowing down.

A gift and a curse from being the most powerful pure-blooded fae female in existence. Regardless if you were still in your early 20s.

Your cousin Rowan Whitethorn, the King Consort of Terrasen, trained you himself when you were a child. Only he was able to understand what it's like to have such powerful and vast magic thrumming in your veins, because he’s the same.

He knows how important it is for you to be able to control it instead of letting it control you. Rowan also trained you in weaponry and in combat, in case you couldn’t access your magic.

But, he also taught you the importance of training because of how powerful you are and the importance of not overwhelming yourself with your magic by letting it out in small bursts.

By releasing it in small bursts, you can manage it more effectively and avoid potential dangers or unintended consequences. You can still hear his deep voice now, loud and clear in your head, “It's like releasing pressure slowly from a valve to ensure everything stays under control.”

Which is what you were doing now.

Every blow you landed against the training dummy, powerful, calculated and merciless. Lethal. Had they been a real enemy. While simultaneously letting out small waves of ice-kissed wind around you and into the room.

Then you felt her—your magic always alerting you when she was near. The witch who stole half your heart. Manon Blackbeak the Queen of Witches.

And if she was here then the one who stole the other half of your heart was close by. Dorian Havilliard the King of Adarlan.

“I’ll be up soon,” you told her without stopping raining down blows on the training dummy.

“Don’t bother,” she replied. That made you stop but you still didn’t turn to face her. “It’s almost midday,” she continued, sounding closer this time and you relaxed.

You finally turned to face her and noted that she was already dressed for the day and that she was right. If the sunlight pouring in from the ajar door behind her was any proof. “Huh. . . I guess I lost track of time.” Again, you didn’t have to add, seeing as this happens more often than not.

“Hmm.” Manon hummed, taking a couple more steps closer before stopping in the middle of the room and taking off her tunic, in the training ring. Her gold eyes never leave your chest watching as it rises and falls steadily while you try to catch your breath.

Her gaze darkening when she takes in the fact that your white shirt is practically see through from sweat. You can’t help but smirk, “See something you like?”

She shakes her head, smirking back. “Step into the ring. If you want to keep training, I’ll train with you.” Gold eyes flick down to your hands in a pointed glance. “Unless you want to keep bleeding?” Looking down at your hands, you realize that your knuckles are bruised, cut and bloody.

Brows furrowing as you look over your shoulder at the training dummy; all the hay that once filled it is on the floor, the fabric in tatters and the wood is splintered from where you kept hitting it. “All right, witchling, do your worst.” You challenge as you prowl onto the fighting mat.

“With pleasure, faeling.” She grins as she settles into a fighting stance. You mirror her actions and the second you nod at her, she lunges.

The both of you go back forth for a while trying to pin the other to no avail. “Come on, sweetheart,” you run your tongue on your lips tauntingly, “are you tired already?” You bait her and she takes it, lunging, giving you the opening you need to pin her to the mat.

Your hips settle directly atop of hers, your hands wrapping around her wrists, keeping them and her pinned to the mat. You lean forward using your weight as leverage so she can’t buck you off. She lifts her head as best she can, her eyes flicking to your lips, “Why don’t you just kiss me already?”

You know she’s trying to bait you, eyes flicking from her gold ones to her lips and to her heaving chest. “I’ll kiss you if you can pin me.” Her eyes narrow at your words but she smiles—a smile only reserved for you and Dorian.

Manon tries to buck you off again but you hold firm, chuckling as she struggles, your lips parting to speak but before you can get a word out your magic alerts you of his presence. Dorian. Unconsciously your head turns, to find him looking at you and Manon with amusement.

Giving the witch Queen the opportunity to flip you both so you’re pinned beneath her. She flashes you a wicked smirk, her own eyes glinting and then she’s kissing you. Your lips parting in a moan that she swallows before letting out a moan of her own as you deepen the kiss.

The both of you pull away at the same time, panting softly when you hear his deep sensual voice, “Done already?” You both open your mouths to respond when invisible hands rove over and in between your bodies, earning breathy whines from you. “Tired?” he questions.

Manon grinds against you, both of you letting out soft moans at the feeling and from the way Dorian’s using his magic on you. An invisible hand roving over both of your tits, palming and squeezing before sliding up, and wrapping around your throat—squeezing.

Through half lidded eyes you see Manon arch her back and tilt her head back, proving she feels the same thing. “Can you keep going. . . yes or no?” Dorian asks again, his voice low with desire and commanding.

“Yes.” You both breathe and the hands wrapped around your throats squeezes harder.

“Good girls,” the King praises. Your head turns towards him when you hear sure and steady footfalls getting closer. He flashes you a lazy grin, vibrant blue eyes flickering over both of your forms before he tuts, shaking his head. “Both of you are wearing too much clothes.”

His fingers make quick work of removing his own clothes while his magic makes quick work of removing both of yours. “Come here,” he murmurs to the both of you as he stands in the middle of the mat. You both move to stand before him and then he commands you to lay down.

Once your back is flat against the mat he kneels between your legs and leans over you to kiss you, once. Hungrily—a warning of what’s to come. Then he’s commanding Manon. “Sit on her face, witchling.” Dorian’s lips wrapping around your clit the same time Manon straddles your face.

You part her folds that were glistening with arousal with a pointed tongue, flicking it against her clit while Dorian sucked yours harshly. “Oh, gods!” Manon cried out as her hips bucked but you clamped your hands around her thighs, keeping her in place.

Her hips jerking everytime you moaned against her sensitive bundle of nerves from your princeling sucking and swirling his tongue over your clit while fucking you with long deft fingers. The both of you, writhing and moaning messes while nearly falling over the edge.

Then he curled them inside you, hitting the spot that sent you over the edge everytime and you came with a lewd moan that sent Manon over the edge with you while you sucked her clit. She was still trembling when she rolled off of you.

Dorian was still working you through your orgasm with his fingers when he sat on his knees between your legs. Invisible fingers pinching and rolling your hardened nipples, others gripping your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze as you come undone beneath his touch.

You could still hear Manon cry out from pleasure and you had no doubt invisible hands were bringing her pleasure in waves. One orgasm blending into two and two to three.

Dorian was the image of pure male satisfaction as he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean. His free hand rubbing the head of his cock against your folds, making your hips jerk and then he pushed in inch by inch. Stretching you out. Kissing you, your neck, swirling his tongue over your nipples as you adjusted to him.

You rolled your hips letting him know he could move and his ring adorned hand wrapped around your throat, “Careful, faeling. I’m fucking you right now. Not the other way around.” You whined at his words as his hips snapped at a brutal pace.

“F-fuck. . . oh!” you rasped out. “You feel so good!”

He threw his head back in a groan at the praise. But then, his head snapped towards the door, hips never faltering. And that’s when you heard it, heavy footsteps walking by at the end of the corridor. Probably one of the royal guards. Maybe Chaol.

Your back arching as you let out a sharp moan at the thought of being heard, being caught with your lovers.

Dorian squeezed harder, “You want them to see you getting fucked? Hmm?” He slapped one of your tits earning another moan. “You want them to see you getting treated like the pretty slut that you are, my little faeling.” You nodded desperately and he chuckled darkly, “then take it.”

His large hands moved to grip your hips and you greedily gulped down air, as he pounded into you mercilessly. He leaned back on his haunches slightly changing the angle and your walls clenched around his cock in response.

You felt pressure building at the base of your spine and knew you were going to dissolve into pleasure again. Your legs instinctively wrapped around him and his hips began to stutter.

He wrapped a ring adorned hand around your throat again, squeezing until you saw stars and then he leaned down. His warm breath tickling your sensitive pointed ear, “Just breathe,” he taunted then he let go. His words, the last thing you heard as you fell over the edge.

Moments later you felt his cock twitch inside you and then he was spilling himself into you. Hips jerking as he worked both of you through your orgasm.

You felt him kiss you and then your forehead and then he pulled out.

Through your heart pounding in your ears you heard Manon crying out for him and it was all you could do to open your eyes and look at them. Manon was on her hands and knees and Dorian was behind her.

Fucking her mercilessly.

The only noises you could hear were obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, Manon’s breathy moans and Dorian’s low raspy groans. Your body was still trembling when Manon wrapped a pale hand around your ankle and pulled you towards her, so your cunt was right in front of her face.

Still panting from your orgasm when she gave you a feral grin, “Just breathe, sweetheart.” She teased you with the same nickname you had taunted her with earlier and started eating you out.

You screamed out as your body jolted from the overstimulation but that only spurred her on. Your back arching as she moaned against your clit. You could already feel another orgasm building and from the way they were both moaning and groaning you knew they were too.

And not even a minute later all three of you came at the same time. Each other’s names on your lips in a plea or prayer you couldn’t tell.

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