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thehighladywrites · 9 months ago

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ACOTAR MEN X READER, SITTING ON THEIR LAP

✩ summary: different scenarios where you find yourself sitting on them

✩ warnings: nsfw, 18+, mentions of sex, mentions of self-doubt, kissing, begging, gossiping, fluff, smut, crack, fun times and soft Eris😭💗

✩ amara’s note: the original cassian hc was so long that i had to stop myself bc i was thirsting and it turned into a regular oneshot lmaooo😭 anyways enjoy babes!!!!💗💗💗

reblogs are really appreciated! :D

RHYSAND

No matter how angry you and Rhys get or how petty the fight is, you two always end up holding hands, even while yelling at each other.

Sitting in his lap while you two argue about random, non important stuff is a standard

You guys just don’t do the whole “no touching” thing

Today, the argument was over who cooks better, both of you bickering pettily.

“Listen, I love you a lot, but the kitchen isn’t your best friend. It's crazy how you can burn an empty pot.”

“Maybe you’re crazy,” you retort, arms crossed over your chest as you step closer to him, leaning against his desk in his office.

He keeps arguing with you, going back and forth, while pushing his chair back from the desk to make room for you.

“Whatever, Rhys. I don’t even need to cook when I can summon anything. It’s stupid, and you’re being unfair,” you mutter as you put your hands on his shoulders and plop down in his lap, subconsciously warming at the way he holds your waist and places one hand on your back to keep you steady.

He suppresses a smile, scratching the back of his head as he looks up at your pouting self. “You’re absolutely right, sweetheart. I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course, you’re an amazing chef,” he concedes, his tone laced with affection.

“Awww, come with me while I make you something,” you say, flashing him an oblivious smile.

“Oh! Um, you sure we shouldn't order something or..?” he asks nervously, his voice getting higher as he kisses you.

You slip out of his lap and hurry downstairs to plan his meal, assuring him not to worry about ordering anything and to just come down for his favorite meal.

“Dear Gods,” he whispers as he gets up, a mix of worry and fear in his voice.

ERIS

Eris had been stressed out for a few weeks now. Nothing you said seemed to make a difference.

He was dealing with his father’s death, ruling a new court as the heir, and inheriting the High Lord powers. Your heart ached for him. You wanted to be there for him, giving him hugs and words of encouragement, but you were not on that level yet

Today had been the most stressful day yet, resulting in him shutting down and locking himself up in his bedroom.

“Eris, are you okay? Can I please come in?” you knock gently on the wooden door, voice hushed and gentle.

After a few moments of silence, you hear him shuffling behind the door until he opens it very slightly.

He is shirtless, only in a pair of pants. You manage to catch a glimpse of his tired, amber eyes before he turns around to lie in his bed.

The room looks clinically clean, the only disturbance being Eris’s rugged appearance.

Without saying a word, you walk over to him and give him a hug. It’s a long, warm hug that tells him everything he doesn’t allow himself to hear: you’re there for him.

It takes a few moments for him to hug you back, but when he does, he wraps his arms tightly around your waist, bringing you into his lap.

Only after an hour of silence does he speak

“I feel like i’m stuck. These powers are killing me, the board is fucking annoying, the folk believe i’m wicked and cruel and i have no idea what to do about anything.”

He looks up at you with desperate eyes, “Do you believe I’m truly wicked?”

You shake your head in honesty. “No, honey. I have not met anyone as smart, kindhearted and brave as you. Others do not know you like I do but they should,” you whisper, hands going through his tussled hair. “You’ve been hiding behind your mask for too long, Eris. Let people see the real you.”

The room goes quiet, the only sound being the beating of your hearts.

Slowly his lips meet yours in a new and experimental kiss. He stares up at you with his pupils blown but before you can apologize and get off his lap, he kisses you again and locks his arm around you

“Thank you,” he whispers between heating kisses, “Thank you, beautiful.”

CASSIAN

“Hi there sugar, what can I do for you?” Cassian asks sweetly as he flicks your nose with his finger, happy that you ran into his office and immediately plopped down on his lap

“Can you fuck me?” you ask, frustrated with the lack of dick lately.

His eyes widen slightly at your words, then he slowly cracks a handsome smile. “Gods. How inappropriate of you,” he teases, the amusement clear in his voice.

His teasing almost makes you sob. This was totally NOT the time. You almost roll your eyes before realizing he will so not give in if you give him that

“Cassian, i’m begging you. I want, no- need to be fucked. Please, i’m losing hearing in my left ear,” you beg as you get closer and sit in his lap, rubbing your hands all over his chest

He looked incredibly good, almost unfairly so. Cassian’s jaw and chin had grown scruffy in a ruggedly masculine way that made him look older and even more attractive.

A week without seeing him had only heightened your weakness for his body, making you throb.

“Losing hearing? You must be really dying for me, huh? Alright then. I’ll let you ride,” he smirks at you while unbuckling his belt.

He finally fucking let’s you fuck, hitting spots that makes you go fuzzy brained.

You make him promise to never be gone again before going for another ride, satisfied when he breathlessly promises.

LUCIEN

There is not a bigger shit-talking couple in Prythian than you two

One look between you two is enough.

Someone’s being annoying? You share an annoyed glance. Someone’s being rude? You share a baffled glance. Something’s juicy’s happening? You share a glance that says you will so talk about it when you get home.

“— and he has the audacity to two-time her? He’s lucky to find even one person willing to date him,” you gossip, lounging in Lucien’s lap, your voice dripping with disbelief.

“You’re not going to believe this, but this isn’t his first time. He did that to Tamlin’s cousin too,” Lucien adds, his tone filled with incredulity.

“No way,” you gasp in disbelief, shaking your head as the gossip sinks in.

“Yeah, apparently this guy fucks around in all courts and cheats on anyone willing to stomach. What a fucking loser, honestly,” Lucien nods in agreement, disdain evident in his voice. “The sick bastard gets off on it.”

“That reminds me, guess what I heard about Rhys in Rita’s yeaterday,” Lucien prompts, leaning in with a sly grin, clearly ready to share some gossip.

“Some males and females were talking about Rhys, saying he's replaced Feyre with a clone,” Lucien whispers, his tone laced with disdain. “And get this— they think her transformation from human to fae is fake and that there is no way she could possibly be the mother of Nyx.”

“A clone? They’ll say anything these days,” you exclaim, raising an eyebrow incredulously.

“That's exactly what I'm saying! They're probably just making shit up out of thin air,” Lucien replies, nodding in agreement.

“I wouldn't put it past them,” you say, shaking your head as you reach for a biscuit, happy to be sitting and gossiping with your love.

AZRIEL

Azriel loves when you sit on his lap.

It makes him feel safe and relaxed knowing you're close to him.

It's something he does every day when he comes home - having you in his lap. Sometimes you both sit quietly, other times you talk or fuck or cuddle, depending on how you’re feeling.

Azriel especially likes the fuck part.

He loves the part where you sit on his lap while he works. If you’re good, he’ll bend you over his desk and fuck you. If not, he still fucks you but he does it with no mercy

He makes you sit on his dick and tells you not to move and inch or you will be edged for hours, not being allowed to cum once

Fucking torture is what it is honestly

“Stop moving around so much, i can’t focus.”

“Do you blame me? You’ve buried your dick in me, of course i’m moving. Maybe do something about that.”

He raises his eyebrows at your snarky comment. If it’s something he didn’t need today it was sass.

His day was quite shitty and all he needed was his sweet mate who would kiss away his problems and take his dick perfectly

Azriel smiled slightly as he put his pen down. He would take out his frustrations on you today.

“You want to be fucked? Let’s fuck,” he says in a low tone

In the end, all his papers are scattered, all pens on the floor.

He is relaxed and all smiley while you’re on death’s door💗

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moosesarecute · 8 months ago

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We named someone else after you

My second fanfic. Sort of a continuation of the last one, but not really. Hope you like it

Contains topics of fertility issues

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“He then tried to fly and catch them,” Rhys told you with the biggest smile on this face. “He just gets cuter and cuter.”

He was explaining everything you missed from the Starfall celebration.

You were seated at your usual spot in the usual cafe for your lunch. Something you two had tried to do every week after you got free from Under the Mountain. It was a time for you to be normal siblings, not the high lord and his spy sister.

“We’re quite sad you two missed it,” your brother said with a glimmer in his eyes. “What is it you do every Starfall anyway?”

Ever since your first year together as mated the two of you had spent the earlier hours of Starfall recreating your first date. A picnic up at the mountains eating food made with your mother’s recipes. Since Azriel had been on a mission until the day of Starfall, you decided to spend the evening of Starfall together instead.

You huffed. “We’ve been doing it over 400 times, if you think we’ll start telling you about it now, you’re terribly mistaken.”

“But Feyre knows! It’s unfair that I don’t.”

It’s true. You had told Feyre a lot about you and Az’s mating bond when she spent some days at the cabin trying to figure out what she wanted to do with her mating bond to your brother. She asked questions, you answered, as long as she never told anyone about it.

Rhys then shifted in his chair and you knew what was coming.

“About what Mor said,” he started.

On Starfall, Mor had dressed you in a beautiful blue, backless gown with slits on both sides. You had asked her about the color that looked suspiciously similar to the colors of your mates siphons, but the female only answered that it was “a total accident”.

The dress was beautiful, but extremely different from what you usually would wear.

When you went down to the rest of your family Cassian had basically yelled when he asked: “who are you trying to impress? Last time I checked your going on to your 475th year as a mated female.”

You of course snapped back asking if he had become too old to see the difference between your and Mor’s clothing style.

Rhys, with a comforting hand on your shoulder, asked Mor why she dressed you. “I want to be an aunt again.” your friend answered with a smile. You had tensed, but luckily for you, your mate had come and saved you from the conversation.

“It’s nothing,” you told Rhys.

“Bullshit, I know you. I felt you get tense,” your brother said and you knew there was no way for you to get away from the conversation. “You don’t want kids?” he said that the same time you started speaking.

“I can’t-“ you stopped. “Wait what?”

“I just wanted you to know that if you don’t want kids, I’m sure Mor would understand. You should just tell her and she shouldn’t bother you about it again. I’m sure you two know that.”

You weren’t sure what you were supposed to say. Of course you wanted kids. You had always wanted to have a few young, winged children to run after. And you have loved being an aunt for Nyx, making you even surer that you wanted to be a mother.

“It’s not that we don’t want kids,” you hesitated.

Lucky for you, your brother knew you better than anyone else, except for Azriel of course. He soon realized what you meant.

“You’re sure?” He just asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I mean, we have been trying, but never succeeded,” you said looking down at your hands, trying not to cry.

Rhys let out a breath. “I’m so sorry, y/n/n. I didn’t know.”

You let out a small laugh. Of course he didn’t know. You and your mate were spies for cauldron’s sake! If you didn’t want anyone to know, no one would know.

“How long have you been trying?”

You looked up and met his worried eyes. He grabbed your hands and was stroking his thumb over yours.

“If you don’t count during Amarantha, neither one of us has taken the potion since our 100th year anniversary.”

315 years.

“Wow,” was all Rhys managed to say. His eyes staring directly into yours.

You removed your hands from his.

“Did Cassian manage to remove the wine stain from the carpet?”

“No, and Feyre is pissed,” Rhys answered, understanding your attempt to change the topic.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“You never mentioned you would be feeling this bad,” you mate said, holding your hair and stroking your back as you threw up once again.

“I told you it would be like my cycle just lasted four times longer,” you told him back. Your voice groggy.

You were trying a new fertility treatment. You had tried different ones before, but so far nothing worked. This one was particularly bad. After your cycle, you would spend three weeks taking daily potions. The potions didn’t taste too bad, but you would spend the following hours dizzy and nauseous with an aching pain in both your head and stomach.

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” your mate continued. “Your sure you want to keep doing this?”

You had now curled onto his lap. His arms were around your waist and his shadows tried to cool you down.

“I want to give you children,” you just answered, curling deeper into your mate. His comforting smell lowering your symptoms a little and making you tired. “And I want to be a mother.”

“Then I’ll help you through this, but if you change your mind, just tell me, okey?”

You nodded, starting to fall asleep.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

It’s been another year after your treatment and you had lost all hope.

Azriel didn’t blame you, he would never, but you felt awful for not being able to give him and yourself children. But eventually, you started to feel content in your life without mini you’s. You were the best aunt and uncle to Nyx and Cassian and Nesta’s small babe.

This particular day, you had taken Nyx to get ice cream. Your mate had just days before, left for a month long mission at the continent. You had chosen to stay back home in Velaris to help your brother and Feyre dealing with a particularly busy period.

You had just sat down, exhausted, in Rhys office when you felt sick.

“He loves me! You just bribe him with some ice cream and suddenly you become his favorite! If I knew that, I would have done that all a-“

You had to throw up. You stood up and ran to the closest bathroom, Rhys not far behind.

“What’s going…” you threw up, “…on?” Your brother asked holding your hair away from your face.

“Probably just some bad ice cream,” you said.

“So you haven’t been sick before this?” He asked.

“Of course not, I think I would have-“ you started. But then you remembered that you also threw up after eating breakfast yesterday…and the day before that, and also the day before that. And when you first thought about it, you realized your back pain also had been a little worse than usual these days. “I guess I have been sick the last couple of days, but I’m sure it will pass.”

Rhys looked at you with big eyes. He then took three big breaths through his nose, smelling. He then smiled his biggest smile, shook his head and laughed a little. His actions confused you.

“I think you should go to Madja, sweetie,” Rhys said and basically pushed you towards the exit of his house. “And I’ll get Azriel home.”

“What? Why?”

“You can be quite daft sometimes, you know.”

You started to get annoyed, but then you realized it. The throwing up, the low energy, your brother’s smelling. Your violet eyes grew wide.

“Holy shit,” was all you were able to say. Rhys continued laughing.

You walked into Madja’s clinic and she immediately met you at the door to her office.

“Come here, love. Your brother said you were coming.”

With a comforting hand on your back, Madja guided you into the room. Madja had been with you every step of your fertility journey, so you were quite happy she was there for you.

You laid down and Madja started looking and using her powers on your stomach. She tried to stay professional, but a huge smile soon grew on her face.

“You are indeed pregnant, love. A healthy, winged babe. You’re at about eight weeks.”

You were overcome with joy and soon both you and Madja were crying tears of happiness.

You were still in shock when you walked through the doors of your home. In your hand you held a bag with a small newborn onesie in it. You had never been good at surprises, but a onesie was a good start.

You turn around when you heard the door to you cottage open in a rush. Before you could react, your mate’s shadows were swirling around you. Soon your mate’s hands were on your shoulders and his worried eyes met yours.

“You’re okay? Rhys said you threw up and just asked me to come home as fast as possible. Please say you’re okay.”

You immediately forgot all your plans about surprising Azriel and just blurted it out.

“I’m pregnant.”

You’re never going to forget the joy on your mate’s face. He was glowing and so were you.

“You’re not joking, right?” He asked and you let out a laugh while you shook your head.

You then picked up the bag that you had dropped on the floor and took out the onesie.

“A healthy, winged babe at eight weeks,” you whispered and started to cry again.

“You’re incredible,” Azriel answered with a tear running down his cheek.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Even though Rhys already knew, you wanted to wait a little longer before you told the rest of your family. You were quite sure they already knew, because of how protective Azriel, but also Rhys had been ever since founding out.

You were now 15 weeks along and started to become more and more difficult to hide your pregnancy. To your dismay you also still threw up multiple times a day and Madja was seriously considering putting you on bed rest.

You decided now would be a good time to tell everyone. All of you were at family dinner and you had just finished dinner.

“Now?” You asked your mate in his mind.

“Now,” he answered.

You waited until no one was speaking before you started.

“We have something we wanted to tell you,” you started to speak, taking your mate’s hand in yours. “I’m four months pregnant.”

Everyone was gaping at you.

“Gods! We thought you were dying or something!” Mor exclaimed. “We’ve never seen Azriel and Rhys that protective of you before!”

Before you could answer her, Cassian had pulled you out of your chair and into a bone crushing hug.

“Careful, Cass,” your mate hissed at his brother.

But it was too late, Cassian’s quick movements made you nauseous and you were rushing to the closest bathroom to throw up. Azriel of course followed you.

When you came back to the room you were surrounded by Feyre, Nesta and Mor. You asked: “you thought I was dying?”

“We had started to realize that you perhaps could not have children, so when you suddenly became distant and Az and Rhys looked so worried and distracted, we immediately thought the worst,” Mor explained. “But we’re soooooo happy!”

“Your child will be so cute!” Feyre said.

“And so close in age to our babe!” Nesta said smiling.

After a while, Cassian slowly moved towards you wearing an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, little one. I’m just so happy you’re finally going to be parents.”

“It’s okay, Cass. You’re forgiven, by me at least.” You gazed towards your mate that still looked very displeased with Cassian.

You walked over to your love and said “our child has the best family” while your hand rested on your stomach.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The birth had been hard. You were in labor for over 20 hours before you could start to push. You weren’t happy about it, and you grew more irritated by the hour. No less than three times had you kicked your mate out of the delivery room for breathing too loud, stroking your hair too much and asking if you needed something to drink.

But eventually you held your baby boy in your arms. And Azriel held you in his arms.

The moment of peace and happiness only lasted about five minutes, before you started to get worse and worse contractions once more.

You remember feeling scared, annoyed and frustrated when you heard Madja mutter the words “there is another one” to your mate.

Your second babe, a girl, was a lot smaller than her brother, but she also had wings.

“I don’t know how we didn’t see her! She’s a sneaky one.”

With two babes in your mate’s arms and a heart fuller of love than ever before, you finally got some rest.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

After spending two days recovering from the birth, you were finally ready to introduce your babes to your family.

Everyone was in the living room of the River House waiting for you.

You walked in first, carrying your son.

Your family muttered how cute and how beautiful wings your babe had, but your eyes were set on only your brother.

You slowly sat down beside him on the couch and carefully let your son into his arms.

Rhys and Feyre both looked in awe at the boy that even at two days old looked like a copy of his father.

“I want you to meet Rhyland,” you said with a smile. Doing your best not to cry.

However, the second your brother’s wide and teary eyes met yours, you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

No one spoke for a while. Everyone was just enjoying seeing and holding their new family member.

As Cassian handed your son back to you, he said “I can’t believe you named him after Rhys and not me.”

The comment was obviously meant as a joke, but you had hoped he would say something like that. “You can come in now,” you told your mate through his mind.

“That’s because we named someone else after you.”

The door opened and in walked your amazing mate with your tiny daughter in his arms.

“We also wanted you to meet Cassandra,” Azriel said as he showed your daughter to Cassian, not quite ready to let go of her.

“How could you not tell us you were having twins,” Nesta gaped at you.

“We didn’t know,” you simply replied.

When you got home later that evening, Azriel carried both your sleeping babes and put them in their cribs.

“You’re an amazing father,” you told him. “It makes me love you even more, if that’s possible.”

He gave you a small kiss, before he picked you up and carried you to your bed as well.

“I can’t wait to raise them with you,” he said. “My amazing, incredible and beautiful mate.”

#azriel fanfic #azriel x y/n #azriel #azriel x you #azriel x rhysand's sister #azriel x reader #rhysand’s sister #acotar

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tadpolesonalgae · 1 year ago

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Punishment for flirting with someone else — Headcanons

a/n: thank you for the request, anon <3

Warnings: smut, overstim w/ Rhys, spanking w/ Cass, edging w/ Az, humiliation w/ Eris, oral w/ Lucien (f receiving)

Rhysand: flirting to get something from a shopkeeper

You flinch as he again seals his punishing mouth over your cunt, and you squirm on the bed, gasping as you try to pull away.

“Rhys…Rhysie, please,” you pant tearfully, begging as his violet eyes flick up from between your thighs, just as he drags the hardened tip of his tongue over your clit, swirling around the puffy and sensitive part.

You squeal, tears spilling as his teeth nip at that intimate part. “Rhys, I’m sorry,” you beg, but he doesn’t seem to be listening, dipping lower, his tongue prodding at your entrance, feeling as you tighten, cunt fluttering with sensitivity.

“Rhys, please,” you cry softly, tears welling as you feel him already dragging you toward the edge again—an edge you know you won’t survive should he push you over it.

You seemed so happy to forget me earlier, Rhys muses, making you flinch from how he appears in your mind. I can’t have my High Lady forgetting who her mate is.

“I didn’t!” You pant, squirming again as he returns to your clit, suctioning lightly, his forearm pinning your hips to the bed as you try to buck away.

“I just…it was an unfair deal,” you whimper, “I was just—”

Batting your eyelashes and flirting like you don’t have someone who can make you shake from pleasure at your fingertips, he muses, humming onto your heat, and you can feel the smug grin on his soft, cruel mouth.

The orgasm breaks across your skin, tears spilling hotly down your cheeks as your back bows in ecstasy, fingers threading through his thick, blue-black hair as your thighs part, hips winding against his tongue as it rolls over your clit.

Just as quickly as it has hit you, the pleasure crashes into overstimulation, and you cry out as he keeps his mouth sealed over you torturously, suckling, licking, nipping relentlessly, using his strength to force you through it, even as you buck and writhe.

Your legs shake, panting deeply as your eyes squeeze shut, his laugh echoing through your mind as he watches your reactions, drinking them down as eagerly as he does your release, lapping at the wetness that floods his tongue.

That’s better, he chuckles, the sound dripping down your spine, toes curling as your muscles lose their strength, flopping down into the mattress, unable to protest against his merciless ministrations. Are you sorry for forgetting who your pleasure belongs to?

“I’m sorry, Rhys,” you sniffle softly, panting heavily as you tremble on his bed, thighs shaking from where he’s kept them over his broad shoulders. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay,” he muses lowly, standing, allowing your legs to flop off the edge of the mattress, glancing over your naked form—the wet gleam of your heat, how overstimulated you look. Arousal so palpable in the air he’s unable able to continue as he’d intended.

Violet eyes gleam punishingly, and you whimper, knowing that look all too well.

“Rhys…” you breathe, brows curving as you try to push yourself up his bed, but it only has his lips curving as his deft fingers drop to the ties of his trousers.

“I thought you liked the pleasure I can give you,” he remarks, chuckling lowly.

“It’s too much,” you whimper, shaking your head, body trembling from his attention, legs pressing together, then parting a little when you feel too sensitive to bear any kind of stimulation.

“You know what to do if it really is too much,” he drawls, eyes licking hungrily over your heat, lips gleaming faintly as his tongue laps up the flavour you coated him with. “But you and I both know you enjoy this. Being forced to take more, and more, and more.”

Your skin flushes as he pulls himself free, his thumb swiping over his tip, precum gleaming against his skin, and you tighten around nothing.

“I know you love having the breath fucked from your body,” he growls lowly, settling over you, pinning you to the bed, pressing hotly between your thighs, making you gasp at the sensitivity.

“Just be good and lay still,” he murmurs, relishing in the way your spine arches as he presses his tip to the soft indentation between your thighs. “You’ve got a lot to make up for.”

Cassian: weren’t flirting—he’s just possessive

“What was that, sweetheart?” The General drawls, keeping you pinned down in his lap, his elbow pushing into the top of your spine, his palm splaying out across your lower back. “Want to repeat it?”

“I didn’t do anything!” You snap in frustration. “If you’d get a grip and stop being so possessive, you’d see that.”

You gasp as his palm connects with your hind, shoving you forward in his lap with the force of the impact. Your thighs squeeze together, traitorous heat liquefying as you tighten around nothing. Fucking mating bond, messing you up.

“Wrong answer, sweetheart,” Cassian drawls, withdrawing his arm from your spine in favour of tangling his fist in your hair, pulling you roughly from his lap, forcing you onto hands and knees.

“You know you’ve gotten significantly worse at sharing since that bond clicked, Cass,” you hiss, spine curving, thighs parting a little wider, heat unspooling in your lower belly at the low drag of his laugh, rough and gravelly against your sensitive skin.

“At sharing?” He drawls, tugging lightly on your hair in reprimand. “You’re mine, sweetheart. Utterly and completely. I’m not sharing an inch of you with someone else.”

“I’m allowed to fucking smile at other people, you possessive piece of—” You gasp, his palm smacking down onto the slightly raw skin of your hind, aches of pleasure blossoming in response.

“You did more than smile, sweetheart. Don’t try and deny it,” he growls, landing another stinging spank to your flesh, your eyes heating as you try to press your thighs together.

“So domineering,” you mutter under your breath, “no one likes a jealous partner, Cass.”

He laughs lowly at that, hand releasing your hair to grip your jaw, thick fingers biting into the softness of your cheeks. “I’ll take that to mean you want it harder?” He drawls roughly, digits running up your centre, able to feel as you tighten around nothing, watching how your pupils dilate.

“Do you give your soldiers a smack on the wrist when they disobey you?” You breathe, arousal permeating through the air as you drip onto his fingers, his thumb pressing to your clit.

“I’m not sure you’d like that sort of discipline, sweetheart,” the General drawls, “but I suppose that attitude of yours could use some fixing.”

Your teeth drag over your lip, back curving as you part your thighs, shifting your hips to draw his attention back to you. “I don’t think you could fix it even if you wanted to.”

His lips curve, then he pulls away, and you gasp as he pushes you down into the bed, your ass in the air as his palm draws back, smacking down with enough impact to have you trying to bite at the sheets.

“Shall we put that to the test?” He drawls, thick fingers sliding into your heat, pumping and scissoring, and you flush with how easy it was for him.

“Let’s see how long you can last before that attitude of yours realises where she stands.”

Azriel: flirting to provoke

Your eyes roll, thighs trying to press together as your lips part, hips bucking in attempts to have his fingers inside of you for just a little longer…a little longer, and you’ll…

You cry out when he pulls away, arousal dripping down your thighs, slicking the boards beneath you, arms bound to the table so he can focus on pulling you apart.

“Az…” you whimper, “please…”

He groans lowly from the back of his throat. “Gods, I fucking love it when you beg like that,” he admits, a little breathlessly, cock straining hard against his tightly done-up leathers, and you watch lustfully as he readjusts their tension.

Your lower lip wobbles, thighs beginning to press together, hypersensitive to the cool air now washing against your cunt, how aware you are of your own nakedness.

Azriel growls in warning, palms settling down as he firmly guides them apart again, your hips bucking lightly from how near his fingers are to where you need them.

“Should I chain you up again?” He drawls, and you stop struggling, trying to keep your body still, but it’s difficult when he’s looking at you like that. With those darkened eyes that look like they’d be more than happy to hunt you down beneath a full moon.

“No,” you manage softly, spine curving a little from the rough tone, how it drags over your skin, promising the kind of stimulation you’re craving. Stimulation he knows you’re craving, and denying anyway. “I’ll stay still.”

He quirks a brow, a cocky curve to his lips as he glances down at you, hand raising to your hip bone, tracing down wordlessly, fully aware of how your attention is keyed to his touch, tracking its decline.

You suck in a low breath when his knuckles brush just shy of where you want him.

“Az,” you breathe, “Azzie…”

Tears well behind your eyes, teeth dragging over your lip, muscles tight with the effort to keep still as he teases you further, thumb brushing over your clit, puffy and sore from too much stimulation and not enough relief.

He hums in response, a gleam in his eyes you don’t like one bit, skin prickling as his gaze licks over you.

“Please…” you beg, “it’s been hours.”

He huffs a low laugh, chuckling as he settles between your thighs, war-roughened hands still keeping you spread apart on his table. “You knew what you were getting into. Don’t try and deny it.”

You whine, tensing as he lowers his mouth to your cunt, staring you down as he run his tongue up your centre, lightly circling your clit, shadows creeping up either side your chest to gently brush over your nipples.

Your back bows, wrists remaining fastened to the table no matter how desperately you want to run your fingers through his hair—to grip and guide until you’re releasing on his mouth the way you both enjoy.

“Azriel…” you moan, long and drawn out, low and breathless as he licks over your heat, his deft fingers already poised to push against your entrance, to slide back in with embarrassing ease.

Your eyelids flutter, bowing off the table as they slide in, pumping and curling against spots he knows can make you sob, suckling over your clit to bring you closer to the edge he might not even deliver you to tonight.

Shadows pinch at your nipples, then they’re vacating your chest, making you whine. Until they push up over your jaw, tendrils like fingers gently plying your lips apart, dipping down to push against your tongue.

Your legs start shaking, surprised by how arousing it is, swirling against them, following their movements, as if getting to please them, too.

Azriel’s teeth nip at you, enjoying how you flinch, able to feel how close you are all over again. Even he’s lost count of how many he’s withheld, but both of you know you’re enjoying it.

The orgasm builds to high, gradually crescendoing, and your stomach muscles tighten in preparation to have that pleasure flooding your veins, so, so so sososo close…toes curling, eyes squeezing shut, head tipping back, and…

Hot tears spill over as he pulls away, leaving you wet and needful, hot and messy, dumbly winding your hips as you try to rock yourself over the edge on your own.

“Not yet,” he drawls, stood back to take you in. “You’ve got a long way yet.”

Eris: being a bit too friendly—for the sake of politics

“Want to tell me what that was about, fawn?” He drawls, features neutral but unable to conceal the ire lighting his piercing gaze.

You blink, pausing in the middle of the room, gazing over to where he’s settled, draping himself over one of the plush, large chairs you have by the fireplace. “What what was about?” You ask, tilting your head curiously, glancing to him. A muscle in his jaw ticks, and your brow furrows at his dour mood.

“The Lord.” He mutters lowly, an expression of disgust marring his features. “He practically had his hands all over you.”

You blink, caught off guard by the accusation—you hadn’t thought it would bother him so severely. “Oh, Eris,” you sigh, relieved it’s a solvable issue. “That was nothing, I just thought it would be handy to have him on our side. That’s all it was.”

“You couldn’t have found another way of securing him?” Eris remarks lowly, displeasure dripping from his tone. “It’s unseemly to have my wife throwing herself at every other male she lays eyes on.”

“Eris, I was not throwing myself at him, nor was I flirting with every other male I laid eyes on. You can see the advantages of my actions, can’t you?” You ask, making to walk toward him.

“Stay there,” he orders lowly, causing you to falter. Is he really upset by it? A guilty feeling settles in your gut.

“Since you’re so willing to commit demeaning acts in public, it should be no skin off your back to do so in private,” he drawls, and heat gathers in your lower abdomen as deft fingers drop to the ties in his finely tailored trousers, able to make out the evidence of his gathering arousal.

Your throat rolls, heat flushing your skin. “Well…what do you have in mind?” You ask hesitantly.

“Crawl,” he breathes, flame burning in his amber eyes, having nothing to do with the lit fire. “Crawl over here. On your hands and knees.”

Your lips part, taken aback by the request, averting your gaze. “Are you— I mean…”

“Struggling with something?” He drawls lowly, dangerously. “After that obscene display, I would have thought this would be child’s play.”

Your toes curl in your shoes, already beginning to ache for him all over again. So you meet his gaze, doing nothing to conceal your interest, cautious as it is. “And what will I get in return?” You ask.

It’s Eris’ turn to falter, having not expected the resistance, but then the edges of his lips are quirking faintly, heat intensifying in his already burning gaze. “What could be greater than being in your High Lord’s favour?” He remarks, a note of idleness making its way into his already lazy drawl.

You hum faintly, glancing away with feigned disinterest. “It isn’t very ladylike to crawl across floorboards, High Lord.”

“Then it’s perfect you’ve been anything but tonight,” he muses, and your breath catches as magic pushes roughly behind your legs, forcing you to your knees.

You’re certain arousal will be soaking your underwear by now, already so deep within his thrall as your pulse spikes. Your tongue darts out to swipe over your lower lip, then you’re moving onto your hands and knees, lethargically crawling across the wooden boards to him.

“I only wanted to please you, High Lord,” you murmur, a sultry shift to your honeyed voice, skin prickling beneath your clothes as you make it between his long legs, coming to a stop as you kneel before him, able to make out the prominent evidence of his arousal now.

“Then please me,” he drawls, slightly breathless as he leans back in the chair, attention entirely upon you as you raise up, pulling him free from his trousers, holding his gaze all the while.

“Will this satisfy you, my Lord?” You inquire, hand wrapping around his base as you lean forward, tongue cushioning against the sharpness of your teeth as you take his tip into your mouth.

“It had better,” he drawls, flame burning in his gaze, content to keep his hands to himself for now. Let you make your own moves.

“I don’t think you’d like the consequences of leaving me dissatisfied.”

Lucien: trying to be polite while someone was coming onto you

You tremble beneath his mouth, how he takes his time with you, lazily licking up your centre, only occasionally suckling on your clit—when he feels like doing so.

“Lu…” you whimper, cheek pressing into the sheets as you try to glance back at him, wrists bound together with the tie he’d been wearing earlier that night. “Lu, please, tell me what’s happening…?”

He pulls back from your heat, meeting your gaze at last, and you flush at seeing the gleam on his lips, slick wetting his mouth from the attention he’s been giving you.

“Just reminding you who treats you the best,” he muses, palms wrapping around the tops of your thighs, spreading them a little wider so he can have more access.

“I don’t need reminding,” you breathe, squirming at the exposure, how he’s got you on your hands and knees on his bed. Well, had you on your hands and knees. Then he’d decided you didn’t need your hands to enjoy his pleasure, and didn’t want you trying to stop him.

His eyes flare with male satisfaction, and your toes curl, hips shifting slightly, unable to keep away that desire you have.

He returns without replying, and a note of worry roots in your chest. Have you done something?

“Lu…” you call, breath catching as he nips at your clit. “Lu, this is about that male, isn’t it?”

His tongue pauses, then he’s pushing your thighs wider, burying himself deeper, tongue circling your entrance and you struggle to keep your head. You moan with soft pleasure, enjoying the slight roughness of his grip around your thigh, keeping you open.

Swallowing, you make an effort to push beyond it, focusing on him. “You know I…I wasn’t reciprocating that,” you mumble into the sheets. He hums onto your heat, and your breathing quickens, being pulled closer and closer to your edge.

“Lu,” you moan, brow furrowing in attempts to remain concentrated, his middle and forth finger joining the mess he’s created between your thighs, letting him pull away to watch how you take him. “You know I only want you. Always. It’s only you.”

“I know,” he sighs at last after a pause of quiet, and relief sweeps in from his response. “I just didn’t like what he was doing. What he was trying to do with you,” he admits.

“I didn’t either,” you murmur softly, “but it felt weird to address it in a group setting.”

Lucien sighs, pulling away from you entirely, and the mattress dips as he crawls over you, caging you in. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, kissing your temple, “I knew I should have gone over to you.” He kisses the shell of your ear. “I thought you’d find it annoying, having me being so easily riled by someone being near you.”

Heat spreads across your chest, shifting as much as you can to meet his gaze. “It’s okay,” you murmur, a faint smile warming your lips. “I’m sorry I didn’t smack him for you.”

Lucien chuckles lowly at that, one arm wrapping beneath your waist, palm splaying across your stomach, his front pressing to your back lightly, careful of your arms.

The chuckle catches in his throat when he feels your fingers graze his lower stomach, hesitantly brushing against him in silent request—a little nervous.

“I want…” you pause, flushing warm. “Can we continue?”

Arousal once again rises to his skin, and he’s pressing himself into your palm, setting soft kisses to the length of your throat. “Anything you want,” he breathes, allowing himself brief reprieve against your familiar touch before he’s pulling away again, kissing his way down your back, tracing your spine until he’s again between your legs.

“Now,” he drawls, pushing his hair out of the way, eyes burning with heat. “Where were we?”

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya

#rhysand x reader #cassian x reader #azriel x reader #eris x reader #lucien x reader #headcanons

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keepittoyourshelf · 9 months ago

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Since the algorithm on my various socials thinks I actually want to see a ton of people simping over Rhys and ACOTAR, let’s get down to the bones of why that algorithm is fucked beyond all comprehension, shall we?

I’ve never hidden the fact that I’m pro-Tamlin, not in the sense that I approve of what he did, but from the place that I believe he’s worthy of forgiveness in the same way any of the men that SJM otherwise glorifies in her work is worthy of it for any of their transgressions.

I shouldn’t have to do a paint by numbers thing here to make this obvious, but based on the actual text written by SJM in her own words, Tamlin has objectively done nothing better or worse than Rhysand has.

The big complaint is his temper, of course, and pro-Rhysies love to bullshit about how the red flags were all over book 1 and SJM is such a master at foreshadowing.

He locked Feyre in a house against her will to protect her, when she clearly didn’t want to be caged. How is that any worse than Rhysand…drugging her and making her give him lap dances, in order to protect her, when she clearly didn’t want to be dancing naked in front of strangers?

Go on. I’ll wait for your rationalization.

Rhysand’s whole shtick was that he’s only playing the villain to keep Velaris (and only Velaris) safe…those fucks in the Hewn City can eat a bag of dicks, right? But tell me again how Tamlin is the really bad one for enforcing a tithe because it’s unfair to those who can’t afford it (fair point). But Rhysand chooses to save the one city in his court that has zero problems. Let’s let those that might already be suffering from poverty get kidnapped and tortured by a psychopath. That’s probably better than a tithe, right?

And let’s not forget how Tamlin mocked Feyre and Rhys at the High Lords meeting. While funny, it was in poor taste. At least Rhysand didn’t publicly mock Tamlin. He had the decency to do it privately when he went out of his way to go to a deeply troubled man’s house and, in the midst of an obvious mental health crisis, not only had the gall to ask for resources from a man that has no resources because his own wife fucking destroyed them out of spite, but proceeds to rub in his triumph over a man that has nothing left. Nothing to see there, right?

Even if you could ignore all of that (and you’d have to be willfully fucking thick to do so, which a lot of these people are), I shall leave you with Tamlin’s role as a spy for Hybern. That’s obviously supposed to be a real shock because TaMliN BaD at this point, so why would anyone believe him? It’s not like he had a really good explanation like Rhys gave when he murdered literal children and innocents just to ensure Amarantha didn’t know how noble he actually was. Right? RIGHT?! And it’s not like anyone would have a harder time believing someone who had played evil and done actually evil things for the “greater good” (a collectivist dog whistle if there ever was one) for fifty fucking years over the dude that suddenly goes bad after being a progressive and respected high lord for the same period of time? I mean, it’s not like we’re dealing with severe mental anguish and trauma here. That’s crazy talk.

Shadow Daddy does no wrong. Even when he does. Because reasons.

Those idiots on TikTok making stupid videos showing their bf’s being all shocked and I KNEW IT when Tamlin “turns” can chew glass along with all those dipshits selling mugs that say “Tamlin’s Tears” on Etsy right next to merch glorifying a man that literally gaslit his soulmate into believing that forced drunken naked lap dances were actually a good thing, when you think about it.

SJM isn’t a master of foreshadowing. She’s a sloppy writer of moderately entertaining fiction that has a kink for glorifying severely unhealthy behaviors without the benefit of a trigger warning.

Fuck off if you think that’s all okay and think that anyone that says Tamlin isn’t any worse comparatively is the crazy one. Projection is a real disorder. Look it up. Right after you order your 543rd Rhysand candle.

#anti rhysand #anti feysand #anti sjm #anti feyre #pro tamlin #anti inner circle #anti acotar #sjm critical

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cuntdestroyer3000 · 3 months ago

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Acotar rant

Spoilers

Toxic Nesta fans on tik tok are fr the most annoying people in the world omg. It’s at the point where idec abt nesta but her fans?? Some of yall suck lmao.

Like holding nesta accountable for how awful she treated her sister isnt saying she’s terrible. The whole point of her journey in her book is not only self love but taking accountability. Nesta hated herself but didn’t know how the change. The book is her GROWTH. Like I’m so annoyed w ppl victimizing her sm. Like yes she shouldn’t be hating herself but that also doesn’t mean she’s a perfect angel who never did anything wrong.

These people like nesta hate on feyre?? Which is ridiculous. A lot of the time I felt like feyre was TOO nice if anything. Bitches on tik tok were putting Rhys in the same level as KING HYBERN. Which is ridiculous.

Ppl were saying feyre mistreated nesta like?? By putting her in the house of wind?? Where later nesta understood that feyre was trying to help her?? Oh yeah the same house of wind that nesta became friends with, made three best friends, stopped drinking, got in shape and finally started to heal? Yeah ok.

Ppl being like oh poor nesta everyone was mean to her like…those were people she was mean to.

She was a huge bitch to feyre in the first book FIRST OF ALL. And then feyre kept her alive and fought for her. When I brought this up they were all like “feyre wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for nesta” like wow it’s almost like it’s supposed to be a full circle moment where nesta realizes she was unfair to feyre. SHE LITERALLY SAYS SHE LOVES HER. Like yall are fr stupid. Nesta would not like you. She literally felt bad bc she was a bitch to feyre. And then when I said that they were like “Nesta had low self worth so she felt bad for every thing wah wah” like ok yeah but also the remorse for her treatment of feyre was warranted. Like I’m not saying she should be feeling like a piece of shit and beating herself up but like …u were a bitch to ur sister who kept you alive.

Period

Also about how feyre would be dead w out nesta, nesta wouldn’t have been able to save feyre if feyre hadn’t saved her first in the FIRST BOOK. Acosf ends with the sisters moving forward and beginning to fix their relationship so idk why you’re still hating on feyre. If you can suck nestas dick even tho she was a bitch to feyre you can forgive feyre for stuff she did in Acosf that pissed u off.

Also someone was like “she didn’t mistreat feyre feyre was mean to her first.” WHEN??

W H E N

No literally when bc the minute the book starts nesta is a huge bitch and calls her a half wild beast so don’t evennnnnn.

Anyway bitches on tik tok have me PISSED OFF and i don’t wanna respond to their bitchy asses anymore so I need to just vent my anger on here.

People who hate on feyre are so annoying like how did you read the first FOUR books if you hate her sm?? Like ur literally making this not fun lmaooo let me like feyre. I’m not mad at u for liking nesta. I’m mad at u for being stupid

#this is not an anti nesta post I am holding her accountable #anti toxic nesta fans #acotar #nesta archeron #this might piss some ppl off #feyre archeron #nesta acotar #feyre acotar #nesta and feyre #tiktok #rant

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feyres-divorce-lawyer · 1 year ago

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ok but jokes aside now, the argument that nesta wasn’t confined or imprisoned because she got put with “a hot general who trains her to be a warrior” is so so icky. it’s the same strain of “nesta and elain can’t be upset about being Made, they got two hot mate!” and “feyre was so rude for leaving rhys in the mud, he’s her mate, she was being unfair” waa waa blah blah blah. when i say y’all have a hard time decentering men, i mean it. who cares about them? i’m being so fucking serious, why do you care. why is your immediate thought to the sisters being rightfully upset or disagreeable how it makes their love interest feel. unpack that. quickly

#😐#i’m so tired of y’all #acotar #someone rescue the archerons pls🙏🏿#nesta archeron deserves better #pro nesta

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lanitalay · 1 year ago

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One Day : Chapter 4

Azriel x reader : based on the netflix series by the same name

warnings: lil ansgty

Word Count: 1.1k

Masterlist

This day used to be your favorite. For years you looked forward to having fun on the longest day of the year with the people you loved. But it's been twenty five years since Amarantha locked all of the High Lords Under the Mountain. Twenty five years since Rhys made Velaris impenetrable. Twenty five years since you’ve seen any of your friends, your family, from the Night Court. Twenty five years of fae becoming sicker, life becoming duller. All of the holidays made you feel miserable, but this one in particular. At least with Winter Solstice the weather matched your gloom, but on this day the sun is shining like nothing is wrong. A mockery, really.

So you do as you usually do. Go to the office where fae seek help getting better. Do whatever you can with the little magic you have left. Hope that the tonics, lotions and powders make up for what you have lacked for so long now. Then return to the cottage. Bolting the door, shutting the blinds and collapsing on your bed. Mentally preparing to do it all again the next day. Today you avoid everything except your bed, because last time you celebrated the Summer Solstice it had been with Azriel.

Azriel who you had loved for three decades. Azriel who was so excited when you told him Thesan found a replacement for you and you were to return to Velaris. Azriel who was upset when he came to help you move because Thesan asked you to train your replacement while he went to the party Amarantha was throwing. Azriel who told you to stop being so spineless. Azriel, who’s eyes darkened when you said that your world doesn’t revolve around him or his whims. Azriel who left with a slam of the door.

The blankets felt like a prison cell around you but there was no way you’d take your face out of them. The frames on the wall of people you can’t be sure are still alive glare extra harshly in the Solstice sun. Bec’s babe, now a woman grown. You’d missed the chance to see her grow up. Maybe she’s had more children. Maybe she’d forgotten about you. You hope they are safe. Pray that if you can’t get in neither can anything else.

You feel the bed dip beside you as Lenus lays down. “I made soup.” Of course he had, because he knew that today you would be in a state and he thinks that soup will soothe your soul. He stays there for a while, just keeping you company and you know he means well but he’s the last person you want to speak to today. Because he was Lenus who got in the way. He was the reason Azriel had become more distant in the few months before Amarantha’s reign began. “You haven’t visited in months, Az.” You remember telling him. “I don’t want to interrupt you and Lenus.”

“That’s ridiculous, you’re always welcome in my house. Plus Lenus doesn’t get most of the references I make so I have to constantly explain my-”

“Y/n, please.”

“What?”

“I’m happy for you, I really am but I can’t.”

“I’m- what are you talking about?” You remember that breath he took like it was your own.

“I can’t watch you be with him. It’s unfair of me, I know, but it kills me.”

And what could you say? “Oh, I- I didn’t know.”

The guilt was the worst. Because Thesan asked you to stay, but you only said yes to get an extra week with Lenus. By now he knows you resent him for it. He won’t hold it against you, at least not openly. Yet, you’ve caught him looking at sunsets as his eyes sparkle for possibility, hope and maybe someone else. Until he looks at you, and the sparkle fades to his usual shade of brown.

Azriel spent this day training. Letting Cassian command him to his most extreme exercises and doing them without complaint. Because this used to be your day but for a quarter of a century it has been a wound that wouldn’t heal. After training he will fly across the city until exhaustion lets him fall asleep.

He unfortunately wakes up just as the sun is setting. Mor banging on his door. “You have to eat!”

They don’t celebrate anything anymore. Not with Rhysand gone. Not when you're gone as well. “It wouldn’t count without them.” Cassian had said the first time a holiday came around. So they treat it like any other day. Trying to keep Velaris running without its High Lord. Azriel trying to stay afloat without half of his heart.

He’ll join Mor and Cassian for dinner. They’ll eat in silence until Cassian breaks it “you remember when y/n first met Rhys?” Mor smiles a little “she was so nervous” she adds with a little laugh.

“She was all like High Lords are not meant to get sick, this is not taught to us in training-” Cassian properly laughs recalling.

Even Azriel can’t help but add “and then her face when she realized he was just constipated.”

Mor cackles “he never ate vegetables until then.”

They quiet down. Azriel half hoped that you would punch his arm and say something like “it wasn’t funny, Az!” but your chair is empty and so is Rhysand's.

“It’s not the same without them here.” Cassian was always the first to say it. Azriel knew they all missed them. He suspected Amren skipped out on these dinners because she felt some sadness for the current situation. Even if she would not admit it.

“Do you think y/n got married? Maybe even had a baby?” Mor asked absentmindedly and Cassian kicked her under the table.

“I’m sure she would never get married or have a kid with how things are now.” The general said pointedly. Azriel thought it was sweet of Cassian to watch out for his feelings like that. But they were questions he had asked himself a million times before.

If you had a child he would no doubt adore it, but if you’d gotten married… He hates the way his heart twists when he thinks of that possibility. Last time he saw you, you were in love and in a healthy relationship.

But he doesn’t like thinking of the last time he saw you. How he walked out, slammed the door. Your jaw tight and brows furrowed. He regrets so much of that day. What he said, how he acted. More importantly, he regrets that he didn’t crawl back immediately and beg for your forgiveness.

#acosf #acowar #acotar #acomaf #acofas #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #rhysand #azriel x reader #azriel #az x reader #azriel acotar #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #one day series

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danikamariewrites · 2 years ago

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Heya! I’ve had this cassian x reader idea in my head for ages but I’m not a writer at all so turning to you because you’re 100% my all time favourite and because you’re so good at angst and wondered if you’d be able to write it?

So basically cassian/reader are mates but get into this big fight then reader ends up getting stuck with Rhys UTM. So like angst with their fight, angst with reader getting stuck/cassian realising what’s happened, then a beautiful happy ending with a dash of angst because trauma of 50 years going by 🥺

Love you!!! And thank you so much for all you work

Things Left Unsaid

Cassian x reader

A/n: you’re too sweet anon love you too😘

Warnings: angst and eventual fluff

Every night of Amarantha’s reign your mind had been consumed of thoughts of your and Cassian’s last words to each other. They we’re not kind or full of love. You had fought about you accompanying Rhys to the party. Cassian didn’t want you anywhere near that vile woman.

You had yelled at him. Told him you were a grown female and you could take care of yourself. What could possibly happen when you’d be surrounded by High Lords? Especially Rhys. But the worst did happen.

Amarantha trapped all of you. You were turned into her personal assistant, but really it was so she could keep you close to kill your hope of ever getting out. She belittled and abused you. She took great joy in watching the light leave your eyes every day.

Like Rhys, you turned paler and became exhausted with each day being a new kind of hell. Rhys had the worst of it. Being used by Amarantha in ways that would make you break down to the brink of no return. It was unfair and cruel.

Not a day went by where you didn’t think about Cassian. You wanted to tell him that you forgave him. That you regretted yelling at him and you wish you and Rhys never went to this stupid party. You just hoped he’d forgive you if you ever saw him again.

When Cassian got Rhysand’s message he fell to his knees. His worst fear had come true. Amaranth took his mate and his brother. Azriel tried to console his brother but his anguish quickly turned to rage. It took all of his self restraint for fifty years to not go Under the Mountain and rescue you himself.

After Feyre freed you all Rhys finally winnowed you two back to the Town House. You were so lost in the daze of being free and home that you didn’t even hear your family. You just sunk to your knees, your eyes distant as you just felt everything.

As Cassian came into the foyer he was beyond shocked. He couldn’t believe it. His brother was home. And there you were. Alive. Home. Cassian felt like he was going to be sick from the overwhelming force of the bond pounding in his chest, dragging him closer to you.

He knelt in front of you, reaching out to hold your face but pulling his hand back at the last second. His mind was racing. Did you know that he forgave you? That he didn’t blame you for any of this? Finally your gaze found his, your eyes locking with his glimmering hazel ones.

Your first words to him broke his heart in two. “I’m sorry.” You whispered, your voice raw like you had been screaming. Tears fell down your face as you began to sob. Cassian began to cry, pulling you to his chest. He eventually brought you up to bed and you stayed up all night crying in each others arms.

It’s been a month since that day. Cassian tried to apologize for the fight and so did you, but you both forgave one another the moment you left.

You told him everything you could about under the mountain. He was patient and listened to you. Recovering from this trauma wasn’t going to be easy. But Cassian was there for you every step of the way. Your hope for a better future returned.

Once again you could see life with Cassian. Your home that he built you. You children running around, playing with their father. Nights spent reading, cuddled up on the couch together. And if enduring pain meant getting that peaceful future you would do it all over again.

tags: @rigelus @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane @aroseinvelaris @twsssmlmaa

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader imagine #acotar reader fic #acotar imagine #cassian acotar #cassian fanfic #cassian angst #cassian x reader #cassian imagine #cassian x you

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thesadbetrayer · 7 months ago

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Someday in the past

House of Wind @ Night Court Azriel: ….. and I really don’t know what it is, I can’t pinpoint it. Rhys: Oh well, since I’ve known him, he was always glamoured. Azriel [irritated]: What do you mean he was always glamoured? Rhys: As I said - I’ve never seen him without being glamoured - he could be the ugliest male, you know? Azriel: What the h…. don’t tell me you haven’t peaked? Rhys [shrugging]: It was not my place to look, and it’s not that I care about his looks, you know? Azriel: I’m going to kill him… Rhys [smirking]: Don’t tell me you never noticed… Azriel [slightly blushing]: Fuck you! 🍂 Later somewhere @ Autumn Court 🍂 Eris [kneeling to pet one of his dogs]: You’re not as sneaky as you think, batboy. Azriel [from the shadows]: You’re just getting better at noticing… Eris [smirking]: Sure. If that’s what you think it is… [Azriel moving in front of the kneeling male] Azriel [serious]: Show me. Eris [raising an eyebrow]: Show you what exactly? //After Eris kisses the dog on the head, Azriel takes the other male's chin with his scarred hand and moves it upwards. // Azriel [more serious]: Show. Me. Eris [thoughtfully]: You don’t know what you’re asking of me… Azriel: Don’t make me make you do it… Eris [sadly smiling]: Would you really? Azriel [hesitatingly but then more softly]: No. //Eris taking the glamour of// // Azriel's scarred hand met Eris's equally scarred face. Unsurprisingly, there are no burns. Nevertheless, fine-lined, but still deep scars, ran over the other male's chin, his cheeks, and even his eyebrows. Azriel, for a tiny moment, wondered why he never noticed. But seeing the uneven flesh on his hands, he bitterly realizes why. Still, he offers Eris a small smile, almost invisible, if you didn't know what to look for. // Azriel [huskily]: You know. Rhys said you might be the ugliest male... Eris [sadly]: Well, he isn't that far off, is he?

Azriel: Fishing for compliments already? I'd rather know what happened to your eye? //Azriel nodded towards the scar across his left eye, running nearly to the end of Eris's chin.// Eris: After Amarantha's death, my begetter wanted me to find Lucien and bring him to him. I refused. He said if Lucien meant so much to me, I certainly wouldn't mind looking like him. So he ensured that it would always remain that way. // An almost silent chuckle passed Eris's lips// At least he let me keep the eye. Azriel [gently]: You know, it's still kind of unfair. Eris [irritated]: What is? Azriel [smoothly]: Even with the scars, you're still far too pretty. Eris [confidently]: I'm not ashamed of them, you know. It's just... Azriel [understanding]: I know. Rhys will stick to the deal. I'll stick to the deal and when it's done... Eris [surely]: When it's done, I'm free. The court will be free... Azriel: ...and we will be...

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aristocratic-otter · 10 months ago

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Hey y’all! I’m here, despite a shitty flare up of my fibro this week. I appreciate all of your art and writing so much, you have no idea! Thank you to : @emeryhall, @monbons, @thewholelemon, @cutestkilla, @bookish-bogwitch, @best--dress, @blackberrysummerblog,@rimeswithpurple, @Iamamythologicalcreature, @artsyunderstudy, @theearlgreymage

Here’s one from each of my official WIPs

From Saving Simon Snow:

“What did he add?”

She thinks for a bit longer, but then shakes her head. “I don’t remember. We’ll have to ask him.”

“Ask me what?” comes a voice from above our heads. Baz is there, looking sleep tousled and heavy eyed. A knot of longing forms in my stomach and I suddenly want to drag him back into our (our!) bedroom and tumble him back into bed. I restrain myself, because I don’t really understand where Baz and I stand right now, and because Penny’s sitting right next to me.

From the Heart in the Well

“Simon,” I breathe, “[Redacted] is one of the fae! Fairy kind disappeared centuries ago!”

Now Simon’s smile drops away. “Yeah, well tell him that. At least I know why we’re here now, though. It’s so stupid—you’d think it’d be safe to eat a loaf of bread someone left out on their porch.”

Now I’m shocked and annoyed. “You mean you ate a fucking fairy offering, Snow? What in Morgana’s name is wrong with you?

From Snow Fox: enter Premal

“Word has it,” Gareth drawls, as he strolls into camp, “a passel o’ Tory boys is lookin’ to sign up with the Snow Fox. Turning their coats, as it were.”

Penny lifts a skeptical brow from where she is sitting in the corner of my tent. She’s been poring over what we’ve gathered on British movements for the last several hours, and her eye has developed a bit of a twitch. “Says who?” she asks.

“Says Premal Bunce,” Gareth says. “Ran into him at the tavern.”

From TikTok Dancer:

.I frown for a moment about the freckles. How does he get enough sun on his arse for freckles? He’s got no visible tan lines…

I shake my head at my woolgathering. He’s probably a devotee of tanning salons, that’s all. Though it’s odd, I think, as I trace an outline of the constellation Leo by connecting some of his many markings.

From Stars, Flowers, and Children,

He’s not looking at me now that he’s said his piece. His jaw is locked, and his arms are crossed over his strong chest, which is heaving from exertion. He’s staring out over the horizon with a fixed look on his face. Probably pretending I don’t exist.

And I don’t. I don’t exist to him now. And it’s my own damned fault.

From Cupid’s Shield:

It’s 12:30 pm on February 14th, and the day has been so unseasonably warm that most of the school has taken their luncheon out to the Great Lawn to picnic in small groups. Penny and I are no exception.

I spent my entire morning in a pleasant glow of happiness, thanks to my mysterious Valentine sender.

I think, whoever she is, she’s grown more skilled each year, because this morning’s card looked worthy of being displayed in a museum. I couldn’t do more than gape at it, for a long moment. I think I also wanted to delay touching it, because the feelings trapped inside have become more potent as each year has gone by. And it’s started to really bother me that someone in the World of Mages loves me so much and I’ve got no notion of who she is. It feels unfair, unbalanced or something.

From my COBB project:

Penelope Bunce and Christie McCoy take the second room on the left without comment. That means, since Rhys and I are sharing the first room on the right, that Simon Snow and Baz Pitch are left to share my old room, the second on the right.

I don’t know if the two men expected to have rooms to themselves, but there’s definitely some odd subtext to their interaction when I offer them the final room with a silly flourish. They don’t laugh at me. They don’t even look at me. Instead, they’re eyeing each other intensely. Snow looks uncertain for the first time, and Pitch looks…if I didn’t know better, I’d say he looks scared.

What’s there to be scared about in a bedroom?

Baz

And now we’re roommates again. Lovely.

I’m also itching to start another WIP because I had a super angsty (meaning fun!) idea. But I must be good…if I finish Heart in the Well, I’ll let myself start it. The only teaser I’ll give now is it starts with an (apparent) major character death 😉 .

Tags and cheers to: @chen-chen-chen-again-chen, @bazzybelle, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @palimpsessed, @frjsti, @fatalfangirl, @letraspal, @martsonmars, @melodysmash, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, @mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean, @raenestee, @tea-brigade, @upuntil6am, @whogaveyoupermission, @messofthejess, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @krisrix, @shemakesmeforget, @larkral, @confused-bi-queer, @j-nipper-95, @facewithoutheart, @nightimedreamersghost, @thewholelemon, @youarenevertooold, @nausikaaa, @ileadacharmedlife, @angelsfalling16, @noblecorgi, @alexalexinii,@you-remind-me-of-the-babe,@hushed-chorus, @whatevertheweather, @prettygoododds, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @mooncello, @wellbelesbian, @ic3-que3n, @shrekgogurt, @cosmicalart,

#co/ws/awtwb #six sentence sunday #snowbaz #carry on through the ages #cotta 2023 #carry on reverse bang #simon snow series #egf 2024 #COBB 2024

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mk-writes-stuff · 10 months ago

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Personality Through Quotes

Rules: write quotes for your OCs following the prompts, then create a new prompt for the next people

Thanks @mysticstarlightduck, @elsie-writes, and @kaylinalexanderbooks for the tags! My prompts are, “a quote about their relationship with money,” “a quote about getting or being sick,” and “a quote about a weird habit they or someone else has.”

A quote about their relationship with money

Belladonna: “I try to be reasonable with my budget, but a noblewoman can afford to splurge.”

Cassie: “Yeah, fine, I’ll admit this bodyguard shit pays pretty well. Still not worth dealing with nobles.”

Nellie: “I just got my first paycheque yesterday! Cassie said she’d take me shopping, and I’m so excited. I’ve never been shopping before.”

Narcissus: “Money? Why would I worry about that? My station can afford it.”

Ricinus: “Proper budgeting is essential to station management.”

Goldenrod: “Ricinus always complains about me spending money. I don’t know why, we can afford it.”

Cassiopeia: “My station always does well financially. I keep a good hold on it.”

Stellaris: “I’m not good with numbers, but that doesn’t mean I can’t budget! It just takes me a bit longer, that’s all.”

Rhys: “I’ve never had money. Clones don’t get paid.”

Sel: “Money! I know what that is and how to spend it… of course…”

A quote about getting or being sick

Belladonna: “I hate being sick. Luckily, it doesn’t happen too often, but I hate how little I can get done and how puffy my face always looks.”

Cassie: “Couple of coworkers on the lower station told me that a couple ibuprofen and a shot’ll keel you from feeling any illness, and let me tell you, it fucking works.”

Nellie: “I feel sick all the time right now. The doctor said the withdrawal does that, but it’s still miserable.”

Narcissus: “I don’t get sick. But if I did, I’d still look immaculate.” (I feel the need to impress that this is a massive lie.)

Ricinus: “I don’t enjoy getting sick, but it’s a sign I need a break.”

Goldenrod: “Ricinus never takes care of me when I’m sick. It’s so unfair.”

Cassiopeia: “Illness is an unfortunate fact of life. It’s important that I take care of myself when it happens.”

Stellaris: “I feel sick all the time. I hate it.”

Rhys: “I only ever seem to get sick when Goldenrod gets me to wait on her while she is. It’s part of the job, I suppose.”

Sel: “Being sick is stressful. What if I’m feverish and I say something I don’t mean?”

A quote about a weird habit they or someone else has

Belladonna: “Cassie seems to think taking her hand off repeatedly counts as fidgeting. I’ve told her it doesn’t, but she doesn’t listen to me.”

Cassie: “Belladonna thinks I have weird habits? She’s the one who eats like a fucking weirdo, have you seen the way she practically plots out every bite like it’s a fucking military maneuver?”

Nellie: “I don’t understand why Rhys holds his knives the way he does. I really should ask him. It just seems unsafe to hold them in a fist like that - he keeps cutting himself. I’m worried about him.”

Narcissus: “I don’t understand why everyone seems to be in the constant habit of trying to one-up me. I mean, it’s already clear that I’m superior to them and it’s not going to work - what are they trying to achieve?”

Ricinus: “Goldenrod’s peculiar habits all make sense to me. I know they’re covers for her to cheat.”

Goldenrod: “Ricinus thinks he’s being subtle with his little sneaky methods to see if I’m cheating, but I know what he’s up to.”

Cassiopeia: “I don’t understand Stellaris. He’s always waving his hands in the air and making some little squealing noise. I’ve told him it’s undignified, but he won’t stop.”

Stellaris: “I know my little hand movements and little sounds make me a freak, but they feel so natural and so relieving that sometimes they just happen.”

Rhys: “Nellie says I hold my knives weird. I know I do, but I can’t seem to hold them the right way. My hands don’t listen to me.”

Sel: “I know I have strange habits. I pull at my hair when I’m anxious.” *is currently pulling his hair*

I don’t feel super confident in this one but it’s done now :)

@illarian-rambling @somethingclevermahogony @touloserlautrec want to play? Your prompt is, “a quote about rest.”

#writeblr #tag game #seven station chronicles

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aphroditelovesu · 2 years ago

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I read Yandere inner circle and I fell in love with it, but it also got me thinking on how every bat boy 🦇 would be as Yandere romantically for

Cassian I think you will be the most clinging Yandere out of the three Cassian would be the most clingy to me he is like a big softy out of the three and I think he is also the most emotionally intelligent out of the three and I think he would communicate better than the other two specially Azriel and it is unfair to say that Rhys is the most emotional intelligent just because he has mind power abilities we can’t say that he’s the most emotionally intelligent that would be unfair to Cassian so yeah, I think if I had to choose, I would choose Cassian out of the three as a yandere if he could handle Nesta’s mentality with her traumas I think he can handle mine.

Now for Rhysand I would choose him if he didn’t use his mind powers with for his benefit I think he could help me especially with my ADHD anxiety and depression, but I just don’t like anyone poking around in my head other then that I don’t really find a problem with him as a yandere but then agian being a yandere is already a red flag 🚩 but someone poking in my head is a big red flag and I think he is good in communicating, but not as Cass does especially with the high Lord ego I think that might be a problem I can handle his ego and arrogance but I just don’t want too no offense for the people who would choose him but if I had the choice of having all three of them, I would and I know how chaotic that would be, but I still would say yes and I know what I just said but I would still say yes I am just too indecisive AKA ADHD to choose between the three and I know I just said I will choose Cassian but I really had to mentally prepare myself, and have the strength myself to choose

for Azriel communication might be a problem with all of the trauma that he’s been through He’s not really a good communicator and he’s a bit of a sadist in bed. Even the author is herself said this and I “Azriel is a bit of a freak in bed” so if i for example, runaway, the punishments would be very harsh especially that he is literally the torture of the night court and he’s a stocker with his Shadowsinger abilities, so I also think he’s shadows would be all around me dancing and covering me which I have no problems with but I just had a special place for Cassian in my heart and it took a lot to make him a favorite because I’m so indecisive. Who would you choose? Out of the three of them or would you choose all three of them? I hope you could share some insights with me.

Honestly you described them well and I agree with you. Just having the yandere in the middle is a big red flag, but since it's fiction I don't mind🤭🤷🏻‍♀️

In my opinion, Cassian is the coolest of the bat boys. He is a big soft to his sweetheart and would be the easiest to deal with I think. Just give this male a little love and he'll be on his knees for you. But obviously he is a yandere and has the absurd and murderous possessiveness thing, but it is not difficult to calm him down. A big, walking teddy bear, basically.

He is a soft yandere but only for his darling. The others do not apply to this.

Rhysand is another soft one for his darling, but not as much as Cassian. He can be quite difficult to deal with at times, but Rhys will do anything for those he loves and he loves you, he's obsessed. He is willing to sacrifice everything and everyone just for his sweetheart. He's an easygoing yandere when you reciprocate his feelings, but as you said, his daemati skills are tricky. I guess Rhysand won't invade his darling's mind if they loves him back, but if not, well... We're going to have some problems.

He's easy to deal with if you accept him, but be careful with him as Rhysand can act quite strange at times.

And Azriel is, in my opinion, the worst yandere to deal with among the bat boys and one of the worst in ACOTAR. I love him but Az is very difficult to deal with. Whoever he obsesses over is screwed. He loves a lot and is very dangerous, besides being a born stalker. Azriel has many problems and dealing with them will not be easy. One of his shadows will always be watching you and reporting everything to him, what you do, what you eat and who you talk to.

And not counting the punishments, he is the High Lord's personal torturer, you can believe that his punishments will be painful. Yeah, dealing with Azriel is tough and I think he's the one most likely to kidnap your darling.

So if I were to choose, I would say Rhysand or Cassian. I love them all, but Azriel would not be my romantic choice, I have enough problems myself and it would be difficult to deal with mine and his I guess. My only problem with Rhys would be that his daemati abilities would annoy me, I'm very paranoid and I'd think he was invading my mind. I would only choose all three if they were platonic yandere, but still very reluctantly.

So I think my choice would be Cassian as well. The walking teddy bear 🥰🤭

I'm happy to share my houghts with you, anon! I'm always open to chat ❤️❤️

~ Lady L

#ask #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #yandere acotar #yandere a court of thorns and roses #yandere rhysand #dark!rhysand #yandere cassian #dark!cassian #yandere azriel #dark!azriel #concept #yandere concept #rhysand #azriel #cassian

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tadpolesonalgae · 9 months ago

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Deal With The Devil[***]

Dark!Rhysand x Reader

a/n: Another little drabble to add to the Desk Pet series

warnings: Dark!Rhys, fingering, collar/leash, Court of Nightmares, smut, noncon

word count: 5,096

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“Put this on.”

You stare at the dress he has over his arm, unable to fully understand what you’re looking at. After having spent so long being denied your own clothing, for him to now offer it to you, no— order you to wear it…alarm bells are chiming in your head, body frozen as he throws off your habits, succinctly disrupting your routine. Rhysand raises a brow, free hand sliding into his pocket as his cruel lips curve, an amused glint in his violent gaze. “I would have thought you’d jump at the opportunity to hide yourself from me,” he drawls, and you swallow thickly at the implication, eyeing the dress warily—it must be a trick of some kind, but he never doesn’t have you backed into a corner. As usual, you have no choice when it comes to him. Hairs rise at the nape of your neck—you have to approach him.

He enjoys playing mind games like this, the subtle manipulation of forcing you to come to him, to put yourself more at his mercy than you are already, naturally and through his own machinations. Steeling your spine, you keep the tremble from your fingers as you walk forward, every sense on high alert as you get closer, and closer…personal circles overlapping as you cross into his space, hastily reaching for the dress, practically snatching it from his arm before making to hurriedly get away.

Rhys grabs you, hand gripping your waist as he tugs you into him with a force you can’t resist, internally recoiling as the finely tailored fabric of his shirt grazes against the bare skin of your breasts, pressed flush to his upper body as he towers over you. You crane your neck, giving yourself no choice but to meet his intense gaze, to force yourself to look him in the eye with every ounce of hatred you can pull together. His lips curve, a look of approving amusement on his hell-hewn features. “I would tell you not to misbehave tonight,” he murmurs, lowering himself so his mouth brushes the sensitive shell of your ear, hand settling with revolting entitlement on the bare skin of your waist, able to feel every finger, every joint as they curl into you. “But I think you know I quite enjoy it when you try to be fierce. When you try to fight back.”

You twist your head away from him, feeling as your hands begin to shake as you dig the heels of your palms into his chest, trying not to push him away but to keep him from closing the little distance there is left—not openly fighting back, but trying to preserve what space you have. The low drag of his chuckle sends a shiver down your spine and you wonder if he intentionally chooses clothing that’ll feel abrasive against your bare skin. “Now be good, and go and put this on for me, or would you like me to do it for you?” He muses, mouth lowering so his lips brush against the intimate slope of your throat, your breath hitching. “I can’t promise to keep my hands to myself—I’m sure you already know that, though.”

Then he releases you, and you step out of his immediate circle, holding his gaze for a second before turning away. Any chance you have to show defiance, you need to take. But it’s difficult navigating your own emotions. At times you’re so tired, so worn down you don’t want to protest, want to fall into unconsciousness while he puts his harsh touch over your body, want to obey and please just so it might pass more swiftly—even if you know he would never let you get away with it. He would find a way to make it last regardless of how you act. It feels so pointless—even when you’re completely immobile, numb to him as you spiral he finds a way to wring pleasure from your body. It’s unfair.

“You have two hours,” he says, both hands now settled in his pockets, and you’re unable to suppress the blink you give, the sign that he’s caught you off guard again. A cold feeling licks over your skin. What’s he planning?

But he only smiles slightly. “I’ll come and find you when your time is up,” he says, violet eyes gleaming with that almost constant hunger. “It’s going to be a long night.”

————

You’re surprised by how claustrophobic it feels to have your skin covered, in spite of the lightness of the material, its thin breathability. He probably factored that into the dress’ design though, and you dislike the amount of thought he’s given.

The neckline is wide although surprisingly not particularly low as it sits just shy of your shoulders, offering an elegant view of your collar bones while keeping your chest covered by the way the two pieces of fabric overlap when joined to the seam of the skirts. Another surprise there. The skirts are made up of four long, rectangular panels of pale fabric that also overlap, and while you’d like to think it’s to keep it from being too restrictive of your movement you know it’s made that way to facilitate his ease of use. It’ll be less trouble to get the skirts out of the way, if he wants.

You glance over to the wardrobe, knowing it contains a full-body mirror on the inner door. You don’t want to look though.

You don’t want to see how much you’ve changed.

———

The floor has fallen out from beneath your feet, skin slicked in a cold, slimy residue as you recognise the darkness of these hallways. You’ve never been in person before—never had a reason to, nor has he ever allowed you to—but none of that prevents you from understanding where he’s brought you to. To the deepest part of his Court, rife with evil and oozing malice.

Why are you here?

The sounds of voices grow louder, and your stomach drops, figuring out what will happen. He’s told you of the person he becomes here, what he’s like when he’s sat on that throne—with hindsight you know he doesn’t become anyone. The mask is simply removed.

He rounds a corner, and you can see the double doors at the other end of the hallway, can hear the muffled voices from behind it, and fresh fear saturates your skin. You’d grown accustomed to the touches he’s infected you with, had grown used to his kind of inflictions that leave bruises aching within your body, teeth that mark and bite mercilessly for the sake of his own twisted pleasure.

Your feet stop of their own accord, staring ahead to the doors, unable to make your body move like it should, like you’re commanding it to so he won’t figure out how terrified you are. He’ll only exploit your weakness, and he’s taken advantage of you enough, you can’t do anymore. You really might fall apart this time.

Rhys pauses, glancing back at you with that look on his face that’s a mix between hunger and amusement. It feels like he already knows what you’re thinking, the desperation that’s rapidly taking over your body, overwhelming your mind, pulse increasing in frequency and weight as you look at those doors, then to him. “What’s…what’s behind there?” You ask, hating how weak you sound.

“My Court,” he answers simply, turning so he’s facing you, cruel silver-ringed hands sheathed in his pockets. “Why…why are you—…” you choke on the rest of the question, unable to help the small retreating step, the way your legs tremble and your arms raise up to cross over your body as if it will serve any kind of protection. You can manage in solitude. When it’s only him who’ll witness your degradation. Your humiliation is kept secure within a vacuum, strange and out of context in the horrid privacy of his home. Between two people, there’s no real confirmation, no reason to believe one over the other. But if he takes you into that room…takes you in front of his court…you can’t fight against the beliefs of so many people.

If they believe you to be his whore, you’ll become it.

“I’m not…” you whisper, subconsciously taking another half-step back, fingers trembling as they curl over your shoulder, grip around your waist. “No…” you breathe, shaking your head. Violet eyes gleam, hunger deepening as he takes a step toward you. Then another, and another after that. He’s getting closer, long legs effortlessly covering the ground between you, and you can see as time slows the way his hand raises from his pocket, reaching to grab you. To drag you before his court, and shove you to your knees at his feet for everyone to see. To your knees…

It’s the only pathway you can find, one that might keep you safe, so as Rhys’ hand reaches for you, you lower your head, one leg bending at the knee before the other is following, lowering yourself into a kneel. Hands tuck into your lap, trying to calm their shaking as you keep your head cast downward, feeling humiliation settle on your shoulders, breathing shallow and uneven. “Please,” you whisper, brows pulled tight together in regret, ashamed you can’t summon the courage to fight him. That you have to beg. Yielding to the cage he’s been trying to put you in for…you don’t know how long it’s been.

Dark leather shoes step into your vision, and your eyes briefly close, wanting to shut him out. “Please…what?” He asks, voice a touch fainter than you’re accustomed to. “Please, not in front of them,” you whisper, nails beginning to press into the tops of your thighs, not at all certain your gamble will even pay off. If it’ll make a difference, or if it’ll be all for nothing.

Quiet pulls between you, Rhys remaining silent as you keep your head bowed.

“How about a bargain?” He murmurs, but you’re so overcome with fear you make nothing of the lack of cruelty in his voice. “I’ll keep you to myself, no one will see you, and in return, you will do as I say, without complaint, for one night.”

Ice filters directly into your blood, a cold sweat dripping down your back as you register the offer. But is there anything he could ask of you that he hasn’t made you do already? “As long as no one will know what you ask of me,” you whisper in reply, putting what little faith you have left into the Mother, trusting she will hear this final, desperate cry, and at last have mercy on you. “Then I agree.”

“Very well,” Rhys answers quietly, and you flinch as the bargain inks itself on your flesh. His hand comes into view, silver rings twinkling in the low light as he holds out his palm for you to take. You fight against the shaking of your body, but you tremble nonetheless as your fingers slide over his own, letting him pull you to your bare feet.

His violet eyes gleam, and then he’s guiding you towards those doors at the end of the hallway, keeping your arm linked with his own. He’d said no one would see you, had felt the bargain on your flesh, and know he’d spoken true, and yet you can’t help the instinctive resistance as he guides you to his Court.

The mouth that will lead you to the belly of the beast.

————

Rhys had already explained how no one could see you, how he had worked his way into the minds of his subjects, and erased you from their sight, and still you doubt.

You suppress a flinch as his palm grazes up your waist, nerves on edge from being surrounded by so many people after having spent so long with just him. It’s almost overwhelming, in a way, and you have to wonder if he intended this.

You’re sat on his thigh, hands in your lap to keep from having to touch him any more than you need to, shoulder perpendicular to his chest, head turned away from him to keep an anxious eye on the writhing crowd before you on the floor below the raised platform of the dais. Violet eyes brush over your cheek, his attention stroking over your exposed skin and you’re horrified you’ve become so attuned to him you can recognise when he’s watching.

His hand rises, knuckles brushing below your breast, and your breath catches, body turning rigid with apprehension as his hot lips graze your throat. “You’re still anxious, aren’t you?” He muses just shy of your ear. “They can’t see you,” he says, mirth clear in his voice as his palm moves slowly to cup your breast intimately. “You’re all mine.”

You swallow thickly at the reminder, that he’s manipulated it into being you desiring only his attention, that he’s so gently twisting the narrative you can hardly tell what the original was.

His lips curve, then his touch is receding, instead pushing you to your feet between his legs and you turn to look at him warily, distrust blatant in your eyes as they meet his own, amused set.

“Go play,” he tells you, mouth quirked, brow raised slightly. “You can see for yourself—I don’t mind. Just don’t touch anyone.” The curve of his mouth shifts into a slow smile, barely restrained violence glinting beneath the darkness of his eyes. The threat is clear enough. It takes a few seconds before you’re turning away from him, slowly making your way step by step down the dais, slowly getting further and further from his presence. Nothing significant, though. You’re not sure if any distance would be significant enough to have you feeling safe.

Gathering courage, you make your way over to a male who’s sipping on his drink, eyes wearily cast in the direction you’ve come from, glancing up at the High Lord who’s sat on his throne atop the dais. He doesn’t even look at you as you approach, and your throat rolls as you pause before him. Hesitantly, you wave your hand in front of his face, a few inches from him, and yet there’s not even a single sign he sees you, or is even aware of your existence.

“I told you,” Rhys’s shadowy voice calls from the dais, amusement clear. “Are you satisfied now, little lamb?” You grit your teeth, pulling your hand back to your body before turning to face him, the writhing crowd at your back as you look up at him on his throne. “Why do you call me that?” Rhys smirks, leaning into the support of his thumb and index finger, middle digit curved to slightly obscure the sinful quirk of his lips, as if trying to keep his amusement to himself.

Your brows narrow slightly, resentment pushing through your features that you usually try to keep neutral for the sake of not stirring anything in him. He seems most interested in you when you’ll give him reactions of some kind. Not that being numb and expressionless, or even asleep has ever given him pause.

His eyes run over you with interest, but you can’t quite regret the question. It wasn’t like he was going to bring you here without violating you in some way. Putting his defiling touch into your body with those cruel, elegant fingers.

“Why—”

“Crawl to me,” he orders softly, that soul-deep hunger pinning you to the ground with its quiet ferocity. A starvation so deep it has your legs trembling slightly. You have to make a decision here, antagonise him further by refusing to do as he says, or undertake the humiliation of crawling back up the dais to him, where he’ll likely keep you knelt between his legs like a pet, occasionally running his fingers through your hair soothingly. As if to thaw out a beast.

“I have to admit,” he says, drawing your attention, his silky voice cutting through the generic noise of his nightmarish court. “Out of everything I’ve had you do, every position I’ve put you in and every angle I’ve fucked you from, I liked it when you knelt for me. When you did it for yourself.” You freeze, staring at him, horror unspooling in your gut at the soft drawl of his confession. “I think it’s an avenue I’d like to explore with you,” he muses, and that cold sweat returns.

His eyes close briefly, lips curving as he smiles to himself, offering you precious seconds to regain composure before they’re opening again, previous…something, gone, replaced by that familiarly cruel, cold glint. Hungry and merciless. “Now come here,” he commands roughly, and darkness shoves at the back of your legs, shoving you to your knees as it wraps around your throat like a collar. “I’ve given you enough time to work yourself up, so crawl.”

Rhys’ fingers flex as a leash of darkness appears in his grip, a dark, shadowy band wrapped firmly around his knuckles as he tugs on it punishingly, forcing you to fall forward onto your arms. Fear springs up in your flesh, as you face what you’ll have to do. You swallow once, before regretfully bringing your knee forward, hands moving distantly as your body starts into resentful motion, movements forced to be somewhat exaggerated to avoid kneeling on the fabric of the dress he’d put you in, the cold, unforgiving stone biting into the bare skin of your palms.

“I think I quite like it when you’re obedient,” he muses, tugging lightly on your leash, encouraging you to raise your gaze to meet his once you’ve reached the foot of his throne though he doesn’t allow you to sit upright, forcing you to remain on all fours as you look up from between his long legs. “I’m sure you do,” you reply, trying to keep your expression neutral but unable to keep the bite form your tone. “Does it make you feel better?”

Rhys blinks, violet eyes running over you with a foreign look in his features—interested and…anticipating…? But it’s gone as quickly as it came, vanished in less than a fraction of a second, leaving you unsure if you’d even seen it in the first place. “You’re rather talkative,” he muses neutrally, gazing down at you. You hold his gaze, trying to remain steady without showing too much resistance, hold your ground without being too compliant.

His lips curve, “are you in a good mood?”

You’re a fucking piece of work, you think vehemently, not quite possessing enough restraint to muffle your thoughts. His eyes twinkle like he’s heard it, but makes no comment on it, instead pulling on your collar. “Up here,” he instructs, and your heart drops.

He guides you into his lap, and you fight against the urge to squirm as he pulls your back against his front, then, with sickening tenderness, gently hooks your legs either side of his thighs, pushing them apart. It’s exactly as you predicted, and you watch from somewhere far off in your mind as his hand trails across your stomach, keeping you slightly slouched against him. “You know what’s so wonderful about this dress?” He asks idly, fingers trailing up between your breasts leisurely, like he isn’t actively violating your body.

Violet eyes glance sidewards to you, your head resting reluctantly against his shoulder, feet hooked around his calves to keep from sliding down his body. You know he won’t let you back up if you fall, and you hate it when he uses your mouth. When he finishes down your throat. Coating your tongue. Sometimes your face if he’s feeling particularly perverse. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me anyway,” you mutter softly, trying to keep the shake from your hands.

Rhys hums amusedly, pressing a small kiss to your temple, your body wishing to recoil at the twisted display of gentle affection. “Why don’t I show you, instead?” He asks, hearing the resigned sigh that breathes from your lips, eyes sliding shut briefly as you brace for his touch. His lips curve because they have to, and then he’s guiding the panels of your skirts to the sides so only one lays between your legs.

Pressed so intimately against him, he can feel the slight flinch you give as his fingers dip down, running almost experimentally over your bare cunt, pressing lightly to your entrance. You grit your teeth, keeping your eyes shut as he drags them back up, settling over your clit, unable to help the way you wind your feet a little closer around his calves, to assure you of some kind of stability as your body becomes more rigid.

“You should open your eyes,” he muses beside your ear, fingers leaving you to press up against your lips, pushing lightly against your tongue. “It’s not everyday you’ll get to sit upon a throne like this.”

I don’t want to sit on a throne, you think, eyes remaining shut as he coats his digits in saliva before circling your entrance again with those delicate, teasing fingers. An image of you sat neatly in his lap close to how you are now except his cock is buried inside of you pushes into your mind, your eyes shut, lips parted and brows curved in needful pleasure, and you startle. Rhys’s arm bands across your waist to keep you from jerking upright, and you can hear his dark laughter brushing softly against your skin.

His digits rub over your entrance lightly, before again raising to circle your clit, and you hate how heat is beginning to gather in response to his touch. The pads of his fingers circling lightly as the arm across your waist raises to grip your jaw, turning so your head is facing forward. “Open your eyes,” he commands lowly, digits continuing with the horrid movements. Trying to steel yourself, you follow the order, gazing across the crowd that has no idea you’re even up in his lap with Rhys simply feeding them an illusion of something else. Do they even know their High Lord is here, or has he removed himself from their minds too?

“See all those people?” He asks, digits slowly sinking into your heat as your gaze follows his direction, scanning across the crowd. “All those people, and none of them have a clue what you’re doing.”

“What you’re making me do,” you correct resentfully, but quietly.

“Not for much longer,” he counters, lips parting in a secretive smile beside your temple, curling his fingers against one of those spots he’s become sickeningly familiar with. They scissor inside of you, and the image returns to your mind, how your back had curved, his hands on your hips while yours rested on his thighs, your legs spread over him as he kept you facing his court, forcing you to look at them—how oblivious they were to your suffering.

He pushes you so you’re upright, and you swallow thickly, knowing his hands have moved to the ties of his trousers, working himself free.

Rhys’ hands return to your hips, dark magic moving the back panel out of the way as he guides you against him, lining himself up with your cunt.

“Sit down,” he orders quietly, and your hands tremble where they’ve settled on his thighs. Slowly, shakily, you settle in his lap, shuddering as he fills you up, spine curving a little as his cock pushes inside of you until you’re pressed tight together.

Heat flushes your skin, head lowered at how good it feels to have him inside of you, how easy it’s becoming to fall into the pleasure just to escape from hatred and disgust. To give into heat and touch and physical stimuli in favour of waging this psychological war. You can’t help how you squeeze him, cunt tightening as you pant heavily, feeling as his fingers trace up the curve of your back—absently, idly, as if he’s waiting for you to adjust to him before he starts with his torturous ministrations.

Teeth bite hard at your lip—why is it always him giving the orders, always him in control, always him surprising you and catching you off guard. You hate it.

But earlier, when you’d gone to your knees, there had been a second there where he seemed taken aback. Even though it had been you yielding power, it had felt, for a moment, as though you had control.

Rhys’ hands stutter over your skin as you raise your hips, then slowly settle back down. Repeating the minimal motions, the slight circles as you wind over him without him having said anything.

Violet eyes are glued to the sweep of your hips, the fluid movement of your spine as you roll against him, nails piercing into his flesh, hands nearly fumbling, overcome with an intense sensation in his muscles, like he’s paralysed as he watches you move of your own accord.

At your back, you can feel his attention but his grip has lightened almost entirely, practically having fallen away and you wonder what he’s thinking, what’s going through that dark mind of his. You wish you didn’t spend so much of your time pausing on that, wondering why, trying to figure him out. It should be as simple as he’s evil—cruel, selfish, and utterly monstrous—but he’d managed to worm his way into your heart before he’d revealed his true colours, and you haven’t been able to entirely remove him since. The contrast between the male you knew and the male his is, is startling; jarring. Unresolvable.

But why does it have to be about him? Why do you have to care about what he thinks of you still? He’s proven to be a monster—why should you care what a monster thinks of you?

His cock touches a part inside of you, just grazing it lightly, but it’s enough to have you searching for it again, shifting your hips in attempts to have him rubbing against it, but—you’ve lost it. A huff wants to work its way up your throat, but you keep it down, head raising upward, eyes closed as you try to continue searching for it, rocking your hips over him, grinding against him, raising up and down…

Surprise filters through your blood as Rhys’ hands find you again, holding your waist as he directs you, and your eyes peek open, fluttering around him as he shows you where that spot is, a rich moan falling from your lips as satisfaction fills your chest. A pleased feeling improves your mood, and you follow the motions, lids tempted to shut again to bask in the sweetness of the heat.

Why hadn’t you done this sooner? Ignored him entirely and just taken what you could get? A tiny part of you whispers her doubts at where those thoughts have come from, but the pleasure softens her too as she liquefies without much resistance, melting into the pleasured chambers of your mind.

When Rhys guides your hips higher, you follow thoughtlessly, his grip sliding you up and down the thick length of his cock and your lips part on a sharp breath, chasing after the pleasure that’s swiftly building in your lower abdomen, breathing becoming shallow with every touch of his cock. His hips buck suddenly, and your eyes fly open from the sharp spike of pleasure.

Thoughtlessly, you resign yourself over to him, and he wastes no time in taking advantage of your lapse in judgement, his grip tightening on your hips as he effortlessly leverages your hips, slamming you back down on him in a way that repeatedly knocks the breath from your lungs.

Doesn’t this feel good? He asks into your mind, a shiver running down your spine at the low caress of his voice. Doesn’t it feel so much better when you aren’t fighting against me?

I thought you liked that, you think, having no control over what crops up in your mind, the vulnerability not nearly as terrifying as it should be, though. And I thought you didn’t care what I liked, he replies, darkness gathering at your shoulders, pushing the overlapping panels of fabric away so the sleeves fall over your arms, baring your breasts to the cool air of the underground court.

True, you think, unable to push him away but not really wanting to.

True? He repeats, a strange note in his voice but you’re not really concentrating on him as darkness swirls at your breasts, grazing across your sensitive nipples. That you don’t care what I like, or that it’s better when you’re good?

Both.

Rhys’ breath hitches, grip momentarily fumbling at the sharp belief of the word, but you continue, chasing the high you’re approaching, soft moans spilling from your lips and he feels his mask slipping, panic rising in his chest as the desire to turn you around, to take you away from this court, to take you back to the safety of his house in Velaris, grows with startling strength.

Your eyes slide shut as the orgasm blossoms throughout your body, breath catching at the intensity of the pleasure. “Rhys…” his name flutters from your tongue, pouring from your mouth as heat swarms your mind, muddling your thoughts further, forgetting time and context. “Fuck, Rhys…”

The High Lord regains his control, slamming you down on his cock as he hears his name pronounced in your lovely voice, soft and delicate despite the brutality of his bruising touch.

“Fuck, say my name again.”

Say my name again.

The command comes from both sides, external and internal, the soft order whispering up your spine as you shake and tremble in his lap, overwhelmed.

“Rhys…”

Rhys…

He groans roughly, and you feel as he spills inside of you, touch softening ever so slightly as he shifts behind you, brow resting on the back of your shoulder, feeling as his breath fans across your skin. Your spine curves, darkness still lightly playing with your breasts, more soothing than teasing now.

You glance down at yourself, and catch sight of jet black ink in your skin, the bargain mark stamped between your breasts, and you recall, not entirely fearfully, the deal you’d made with him.

He had forced you into a position of compromise, and as usual you feel you were manipulated into yielding more than him.

An entire night, under absolute obedience.

What will he ask for?

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