#or anything by sjm for that matter

[amaltheas-garden]

people still shocked that in the year of our lord 2024 some of us don't want to see Dany get her 'happy ending' by becoming the white savior who was promised

[goldenspringmornings]

oh no just saw a fan art of a dark skinned lucien with box braids and the rage it inspired in me actually woke me up enough to finally get ready for work

[myfictionaldreams]

request: nyx x female reader where they’re matted but don’t know it and reader visits him at the illyrian camps and she gets hurt and nyx loses it

Don't Touch // Adult!Nyx (ACoTaR) x Fem!Reader

A/N: I can't even thank you enough, anon, for this request! I've been desperate to write something like this (especially including my sweet love Nyx; I have an entire headcanon/long-form story of him already, oops). Thank you for requesting! To you or anything else, please request more SJM fics, I am adoring writing them.

Warning: there is a description of visibly seeing the colour of bruising on the skin. Also, intense emotions and responses to situations due to the mating bond.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst, minor injuries, possessive behaviour/sex, obsessive behaviour, over-the-top reaction (or just right depends how you like your partners), threats of violence, aggression, rough sex, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, size kink, intense emotions/sex, sex until passing out :)

Words: 6.3k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

"I've never seen you like this before, Mor" You observe your friend closely as the beautiful blonde woman checks her reflection in the glass of a passing shop.

Morrigan paused, where she was currently trying to perfect her already stunning hair. Trying not to baulk from the intense, fiery stare that turned your way as she raised a single well-groomed eyebrow and attempted to sound as unconcerned as possible, "I don't know what you're referring to. I'm acting completely and utterly sane".

Linking an arm with your friend, you both continued to walk as you sarcastically agreed, "Oh yes, of course. Except that was the tenth time you've stopped to stare at your reflection and tried to fix your already pristine hair, Morrigan".

Mor rolled her brown eyes playfully, moving closer as a brisk wind brushed over the two of you. "You already know I'm vain; why is it such an issue if I want to stare at myself?" she asked, leading in the direction the two of you were walking.

"I didn't say there was an issue. I'm just pointing out that we're heading towards a certain someone's shop, and she's going to love how you look no matter what". Mor hid her face for once, but you could still see the rosy colour deepening in her cheeks.

She quickly recovered by lifting her head and flicking the blonde strands behind her shoulders. "You're one to talk. I've seen you searching over your shoulder 50 times now. Wouldn't it be because of a certain family member of mine, would it?"

There was no hiding the grin that spread across your face as your pulse quickened ever so slightly. "Nyx doesn't even know that I'm in Windhaven. I might not even see him; I'm not here for him."

"Who says I was talking about Nyx? I'm pretty sure Feyre and Rhys are here too", she laughs as you shove your shoulder into hers playfully. As you both calm down, Mor's expression turns more serious. She glances at you, "I'm surprised he hasn't sensed you're here yet. I also don't necessarily think he'll welcome you with open arms; he's attempted to shield you from this side of his life. As hard as we are trying to change the cultures and traditions of the Illyrians, most of them are still unpleasant to be around, especially if you happen to be a female, wings or not."

"You didn't have to bring me here, you know".

"Yes, well, don't make me regret it. Stay nice and close to me, and anyway", Mor paused as she paused outside Emeries shop. "I needed an excuse to come here", she admitted with as much sheepishness as Morrigan would ever allow another person to see.

You couldn't help but grin as you squealed, "Ha! I knew it!"

The bell dinged above the shop door as you followed the blonde through the door. The answer, welcomed by Emerie by the counter, "There you both are! Welcome to Windhaven, stay away from the males, and please have a lovely time", she beams, walking around the counter towards Mor.

Glancing around to give both women a private moment, you admired her shop and eyed some of the winter clothing that would be perfect for the cold weather approaching Velaris in a few months. As you ran your fingers over the lining of a beautiful coat and casually suggested over your shoulder, "If you want, I can watch the shop if you two happen to find your way upstairs. Didn't you say you have some new socks in the back room?"

"Oh yes, thank you for the reminder!" Emerie played with your antics and took Mor's hand, dragging her into the back. Smiling at seeing their happiness, you couldn't help but let your mind wander to the man whom you'd been searching for from the second of landing in Windhaven.

You and Nyx had been friends since childhood. You'd spotted a young boy flying over the Sidra, mesmerised by the freeness of his movements, not watching where you were walking, tripped and scratched your knee on the pavement. Having watched it all from the sky, Nyx landed beside you and helped you home. He hadn't laughed like the other children; he'd shown compassion and kindness.

The son of the High Lord and Lady quickly became one of your closest friends, spending every waking hour possible together when you weren't in lessons or he was in training. Along the way, lines became blurred, and you were infatuated with one another. The relationship was intense, to say the least, and the two of you often joked about being mates, but no sign of the bond had occurred yet.

Not that this mattered to you. You were thoroughly and obsessively in love with Nyx, and he was with you. In fact, his obsession and possessive behaviour were renowned throughout Velaris. Every occupant knew that you were Nyx's; if a single hair on your head was out of place, he would bring all of the power of the Night Court down on them. It was extreme at first, but in truth, you were not much of a fighter, so being able to walk around Velaris with the reputation of belonging to Nyx was a relief.

Now, however, it had been weeks since you saw him as he'd been training with the other Illyrians, and even though he used his daemati skills to talk mind to mind with you or he left intimate little notes throughout your home, it couldn't ease the ache in your chest. So when Mor mentioned visiting Emerie's shop in Windhaven, you jumped at the opportunity to see, hoping you'd run into him, even if he didn't want you near the camps.

Lost in your thoughts of black hair and vibrant blue eyes, you'd not noticed that someone had entered the shop until a male growled from behind you, "Where is she?"

Jumping and turning on the spot, you looked the Illyrian over from the golden-brown skin covered in the darkest black tattoos that stretched up his neck and over the sides of his shaved head, leaving a tuft of hair down the centre. His membranous wings were widely spread as he stood in a defensive stance, fists tightly clenched at his side and armour creased from lack of care.

"Who?" you asked innocently, facing him fully and trying not to let his anger intimidate you even though you could already smell the sourness of your anxiety and fear in the air. The stranger walks forward, the tips of his wings knocking into a collection of hats, all toppled to the floor. "Watch where you're walking!"

The male stops a step away, tilting his head and frowning with even more vigour, "What did you just say to me?" As he took another step forward, you matched his step with one backwards until you were pressed against the wall with him towering over you.

"Just - Just watch it, ok? You're knocking over the display" You pointed to the knocked-over items, but he didn't take his eyes off of you, searching over your body until your skin crawled with discomfort.

"Wherever that thief is, give her this", he shoves the letter that had been screwed up in his meaty hands into your chest. You gasp out loud at the pain that rips through your shoulder, knowing it is going to bruise, and you have to look away to hide the tears that had formed as you grasp the letter and watch him leave.

It was only as the bell rang as the male exited that Emerie and Mor rushed into the room with a dagger in hand as they rushed to your side. If it wasn't for the shock and pain in your shoulder, you would have commented and jested how they both looked flustered with dishevelled hair and swollen lips, but this was the last thing on your mind now.

"Who was just here? Why do you smell of fear?" Mor asked as she rested a hand on your arm, looking at you furiously with concern.

"I don't know his name, but he gave me this for you, Emerie." You held out the letter, ignoring how your fingers trembled as she accepted it with a roll of her eyes.

"His name is Prumlos. He works closely with my uncle, and they believe they have rights to my shop. No matter how often I tell them, they keep coming back. Unlucky for me, he trains here in Windhaven and often brings new threatening letters from my extended family. He's a really brute", she pauses as she eyes you closely, "are you ok? Did he harm you in any way?"

Swallowing the thick lump formed in your throat, you attempt to compose yourself, not wishing to seem weak in front of these two strong females. Maybe you'd been sheltered too much throughout your life, but you didn't want to be emotionally broken just because one arrogant male was rude to you, even if your shoulder throbbed terribly.

"He just gave me the letter", you managed to spit out, not looking either female in the eye.

"Bullshit. I can still smell your fear; what did he do?" Mor demanded, stepping closer.

"Nothing! I mean, he was just an arrogant male and just wanted to scare me. I'm fine, really. But could we go, please? Sorry, I know we've only just arrived. Maybe I can wait for you in the High Lord's mother's home, Mor? I just need to be shown the way". You held your breath, waiting for Mor to answer, hoping she didn't try to question you further, but thankfully, she agreed.

"I'm sorry you've been shaken up; I hope it hasn't deterred you from coming to visit me every so often," Emerie smiled gently while holding your hand.

Thanking her, you and Mor left the store and began walking down the street. "Are you sure you're ok? I can see you're still shaken up; talk to me, Little star", Mor asks a couple of silent minutes later and hearing the nickname the inner circle had named you from a child finally brought a smile to your face.

But then Mor tried to link her arm through yours, and you couldn't help but flinch as the movement caused the pain in your shoulder to worsen. Mor noticed and stopped abruptly, turning you towards her, "He did hurt you, didn't he? Tell me so I can go and deal with him".

"No! Please, Mor, can we just go? You know I hate violence".

"Do you want me to go and find Nyx?" she asked, lowering her voice.

"No!" you say urgently, looking up at her with wide eyes, "Please don't, you know how he'd react. I just want to go to Rhys' mother's home and forget about the day. I'll speak to Nyx another time".

With great reluctance, Mor nods, and the two of you continue the walk back to the home. Once inside and next to the fire, you could finally stop and relax, especially as Mor offered you a hefty glass of wine to help your nerves.

After half an hour of sipping away at the absurdly expensive win, shoes off and feet tucked beneath you, Mor suddenly sat up further in her seat with a smile, informing you, "You're about to be a very happy female".

You're confused by her statement, but then you feel it: the connection in your heart is strengthening, like the missing piece to you was suddenly warming and filling in. The front door opened, and Feyre and Rhys walked in first, followed by Cassian and Nyx.

You're half aware of Cassian's joyful greeting: "Ah, Little star! You've finally come to join the camps. We'll have you trained in no time".

You stand quickly, eyes only on Nyx as he stands in the doorway, not breathing as he stares only at you. One second, you're near the table, and the next, you're running full speed towards him, sliding across the wooden floor with your socks, not that you care as you're suddenly in his arms.

The pain had diminished the second you were reunited with him. All you cared about was breathing him in, the relaxing scents of spice and lavender, the strength of his arms as they wrapped around your waist, keeping you up off of your feet that had tucked around his hips. Your fingers clenched into curling hair at the nape of his neck, not caring that it was sweaty from where he'd been training. He could be covered in mud, and you would have jumped into his arms with as much enthusiasm.

The others in the room pretended to look busy as he continued to hold you, his face moving into the nape of his neck, and he took a deep breath, breathing in your scents. Nyx's voice was like dark silk, wrapping around you entirely as he said, "I knew you were here. I mean, I thought I was losing my mind; an hour ago, the tightness in my chest eased".

You couldn't help but giggle, kissing his cheek, "That was me; I arrived about an hour ago". Pulling back in his arms, the back of your fingers caressed against his cheek, admiring the light stubble that had grown since you'd last seen him. "I like this", you admire.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his thumbs stroking circles from where he still held up your body.

"I came to see my best friend, of course", you claimed, watching his handsome features as his smile grew to a grin, the dimple in his cheek deepening beneath your thumb. "Yes, I came to see my best friend Emerie", you joked as Nyx rolled his crystal blue eyes before moving his face back to nuzzle against your jaw.

"I've missed you", he mumbles, not caring that you both had an audience and your heart clenched tighter at the need in his voice.

"I've missed you too, more than you could ever know".

"If you two aren't mates, I'll eat my trousers", Cassian quips sarcastically over the rim of his glass of wine. Mor slaps his arm for interrupting as you're lowered back to the floor by Nyx, but you still lean on the tip of your toes, pushing your chest against his to remain close.

Admiring the passionate way Nyx is searching your face, you turn to grin as Cass is over your shoulder when the sudden deathly shift in the air has you freezing. The faelights casting a golden glow across the house dimmed as the room became cold, the fire extinguishing in a single breath.

Your head spins as you turn back to Nyx, who is staring at the opening of your shirt beneath your neck.

"What's that mark?" Nyx asked, his voice a terrifying tone you'd only heard on a handful of occasions. Instinctively, you were stepping back, but his gentle hand grabbed yours, keeping you close. You can sense his family moving closer, and Nyx doesn't wait for you to answer his question. He carefully releases your hand and pushes aside the material of your blouse until your shoulder is exposed.

Glancing down, you could see now that where Prumlos had shoved the letter into your shoulder earlier had now formed a deep purple bruise. Nyx leans forward, sniffs your skin, and his spine instantly stiffens.

"Who did that to you?" he asks, voice thick with venom and anger.

You're unable to give him an answer as Mor is suddenly by your side, holding open your shirt to stare at the injury as she gasps, "I asked if he hurt you!"

"He?!" Nyx growls, looking between Mor and you.

Attempting to take a step away from both of them, you try and calm the energy, sensing it is escalating to a level that could not be returned from. It wasn't that Nyx was scaring you; it was quite the opposite, as his protection made you feel safe; you were just frightened that he would do something he couldn't undo and start a war within the camps.

"I'm fine; it doesn't even hurt anymore" you tried to reason, but that only made Nyx breathe heavily out of his nose as he turned to Mor.

"Who did this? Give me his name. Tell me right now, Morrigan!"

Thankfully, Mor didn't answer immediately and glanced at you from the corner of your eye, knowing that you didn't want to cause a fuss, so she didn't respond immediately, which only frustrated Nyx more in his crusade for revenge. "This is why you shouldn't have bought her here! I told you on multiple occasions that it wasn't safe!"

"Nyx, you need to take a breath; maybe you and your father should go outside and release some of that energy" Feyre tried to reason with him, stepping closer, but it was useless; Nyx was like a boiling pot of deathly anger. Shadows pulsed and darkened around him, travelling up the length of his muscular arms and around his neck. Rhys and Cassian finally began to step forward, moving into a warrior stance between Mor, Feyre and Nyx, even attempting to urge you behind them, but there was no way you were being forced away from Nyx.

Stepping toe to toe with him, your fingers moved back to cradling his face, forcing his now icey eyes onto you, and for a fraction of a second, he seemed calmer. "Nyx, please listen to me, I'm fine. Everything is ok, it was just-"

You were unable to finish your sentence because his knees buckled, and he audibly gulped down air as all signs of anger and pain disappeared from his eyes and tears lined the edges. "Nyx?"

"Mate", he whispers in awe, leaning his forehead against yours as his arms come around your waist, holding you delicately.

You could feel it, too, like an elastic band was tied around your heart, strengthening with each passing second. "I can feel it too"," you confirmed with glee, tears beginning to fill your eyes with the sudden realisation of what was happening. You and Nyx were mates. The Cauldron had blessed you both; even after waiting what felt like a lifeline for the bond to confirm itself, you both knew it had only been a matter of time. The relief was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before.

"Finally!" Cassian cheered, loosening his warrior stance to return to his glass of wine, raising it towards where you and Nyx stood in the entryway. "Welcome to the family, Little Star!"

You grin up tearfully towards Nyx, who in turn returns the joy, but that all disappears as the anger and rage return full force as he growls, "Someone hurt my mate". Moving away from you, he faces Mor and demands, "Tell me his name, Mor, I know you know it. Don't make me find it out".

Morrigan shifts, rolling her shoulders back as she looks down at Nyx, which is an incredible feat considering the fact that he is considerably taller than her. "Are you threatening me, Nyx??

"He hurt my mate!" he bellows at her, but she doesn't so much as flinch as she shifts her gaze to you, looking like she's contemplating a hundred thoughts at once. Then, without looking away, she confirms the man's name.

"Prumlos".

Nyx vanishes before you have time to stop him, and seconds pass before the ground trembles and shakes the home's foundation. 

"No! I didn't want violence! Why did you tell him, Mor?!" you gawped at the blond, who didn't look remotely sorry.

As Rhysand grabs Cassian and winnows away, Mor steps closer with Feyre at her side. "I told him because we protect our own. Not only has he hurt you, but he's also threatening Emerie; he deserves what's coming to him. In fact, I shouldn't have faltered with telling Nyx, that is my only regret".

You feel defeated and stare at your feet with a thousand thoughts dizzying your mind. Was Nyx ok? Was he hurt? When would he come back? He was your mate. Nyx was YOUR mate.

A pair of brown leather boots entered your vision as Feyre stepped close, wrapping an arm carefully over your not-injured shoulder as she directed you towards the table, kissing your cheek as she moved, "Welcome to the family, properly that is. You've always been one of us, Little Star. Now, why don't you take a seat and I'll see if we have any healing ointments remaining in the cupboards".

Thankfully, Feyre had found a purple ointment that had already worked enough that the pain in your shoulder was considerably less, and the colour of the bruising was now a subtle yellow. Nibbling nervously on the corner of your thumb as you awaited your mate's return, it finally dawned on you. "Wait, how am I supposed to do this? Aren't mates supposed to have a ceremony or something?"

"There can be a ceremony where you offer Nyx some food; we can organise it once we return to Velaris if you'd like? Or if you'd rather not wait, you could offer him food whenever you'd like", Feyre explained warmly with a gentle smile that matched Nyx's.

"I don't think I want to wait. We've all known we would be mates, and waiting for this bond has been slow, so I don't want to wait to accept his bond.

"Why don't you go and have a look in the kitchen? There might be something here", Mor encouraged with a nod towards the back of the house.

You scoured the kitchen cupboards for any sort of food, but with the house having not been in proper use for years, there was nothing except some stale bread on the kitchen table with suspicious-looking green mould on the edges. Even after ripping away the discoloured sections of the bread, you still eyed it with uncertainty.

Stepping out of the kitchen and returning to the dining area, you were surprised to find that Mor and Feyre had gone, and Nyx now stood calmly in the centre of the room, his eyes watching your every breath.

"Where did everyone go?" you ask, trying to fill the thick tension with some noise.

Nyx smiled, not enough to show his dimple but enough to have your shoulders dropping with ease as he stated, "I don't care where they've gone, as long as you remain". Those blazing eyes lowered to your hands as he sucked in a powerful breath as he looked at the stale bread that you were still holding.

As he took several steps forward, you couldn't help but ask, "What did you do to him?"

"What he deserved". There wasn't a speck of blood on his leathery uniform. "What are you doing with that bread?" he asked in a low voice.

You're unsure why you're so nervous when you answer, "Oh, um. It was meant to be for you. I can't find anything else for the mating bond, but it's stale and has mould over it. Maybe I can find a little shop here to find some proper food and serve that to you- NYX!"

Closing the gap between you, he takes the bread out of your hands and, without taking his eyes off of yours, begins to chew the bread that was so clearly dry and stale as he chewed for considerably longer than he should have.

As he finally swallows, you're reaching up for him, resting your hands on his chest and feeling the racing of his heart beneath your palms. "You're my mate", you breathe in awe, forgetting everything that had happened that day and only focusing on the man before you.

"I am. I'm yours, and you're mine", he states with as much wonderment as you felt in your soul.

Grinning up at him, you remind him, "Forever. You're mine forever". The tension beneath your fingers eases as he takes a steadying breath, and then his eyes lower to the edges of your blouse.

You watch with bated breath as he checks the mostly healed bruise. "I'm sorry if I frightened you earlier".

"Nyx, you could never frighten me, " you reassure and tip a finger beneath his chin so that he has to look at your face, not the injury.

"I've always wanted to keep you safe. Seeing that bruise on you today, I was ready to destroy the world to find out who harmed you".

"I know". You watch as he nuzzles into your palm, kissing the centre as you try to lighten the mood, "You're very intense, you know that, right" you say with a light laugh.

Nyx grins, that precious dimple capturing your attention. "I'm more than intense; I'm obsessed. I've been obsessed for years, and now, there's no escaping me" he chuckles as his hand cups around the backs of your thighs and lifts you up, your arms and legs wrapping around his firm body.

"I thought it was just me with the obsession", you retort whilst curling your fingers into his hair once more. Leaning your forehead against him, you both just breathe the other in, eyes closed and hearing the hearts beating as one.

"There hasn't been a second since you entered my life where I haven't wanted you to be by my side. I think I always knew, even when we were children. And now, you're mine".

"Officially", you joke with a giggle, squeezing your arms and legs more firmly around him.

"Officially, my mate", he agrees and then sighs, balancing your weight on one arm so that he could move aside your blouse and kiss the lightening bruise. "I don't want you to come back here again if you can help it. I don't trust these males".

"That's fine with me. I don't particularly want to return, no matter how lovely Emerie's shop is. I don't know how you can stand to be here, let alone train with them", you agreed wholeheartedly.

"You deserve to be in nice and happy places like Velaris, and I can deal with dreadful places like this. It's in my blood, after all". Nyx took a moment to admire your beauty before he stepped forward and winnowed the two of you into his bedroom in the River House in Velaris. "Finally back where we both belong. Now, you're wearing too many clothing articles".

"Wait, don't you have training?" you ask in confusion.

"Not anymore. They'll have to come here and fight me to drag me back to that shit hole tonight. I have other plans now anyway". As he finished talking, he gently eased you onto the navy silk sheets of his bed, resting his arm next to your head as he looked down at you.

You giggle as his hair falls into his face. Reaching up, you pushed the dark curls back to see him grinning at you with just as much glee. "Mmm, I love that sound", he admires before lowering his face to the junction of your neck, his lips pressing against the sensitive area, causing a shiver to burst over your skin.

"What sound?" you ask in a daze.

"You laughing. Your happiness. It's the best sound in the world", he groans as his lips travel up the slope of your neck before teasing your earlobe.

"You're being extra soppy today, Nyx", you say halfheartedly, secretly loving how open he was with his emotions.

However, the man above you freezes, his mouth next to your ear as he asks, "Say that again".

You know exactly which word he wanted you to repeat as you sigh happily, close your eyes and say, "Nyx".

He moans deeply, his hips rutting into the bed with a thrust as a shiver shakes his large frame. "Again," he asks as he lowers his hands to palm your breasts through your blouse.

It was your turn to sigh before whispering, "Nyx".

He lowers his body, kissing down your sternum as he unbuttons the material, exposing your bra and soft skin to him. Your fingers continue to weave through his hair, subtly scratching against his scalp as he doesn't stop on his journey lower. Next, he removes your jeans and socks until all that remains is your underwear.

He appeared to be a man possessed as he stared at you beneath him, biting your lip in need. With an easy snap of his fingers, he tore through the centre of your bra and pushed the useless straps off of your shoulders and down your arms and then repeated the tearing with your underwear.

Nyx utterly admired every inch of your body, his eyes full of emotions and desires. He seemed conflicted, though, unsure whether to spend his sweet time kissing and tasting every inch of your body. Still, as you spread your legs and directed him where you truly wanted him, he growled lowly, lowering his body until he kneeled next to the bed, arms wrapped around your thighs and feasted between your legs.

"Nyx!" you cried out, eyes closing and back arching from the stimulation.

The two of you had been intimate for years, both losing your virginities together and exploring each other's bodies; you knew one another better than yourselves. Nyx liked to show this off as he perfectly flicked his tongue and held you firmly with his hands; you were begging in a matter of seconds. The man bringing you closer and closer to the edge chuckled as he felt you tremble with restraint, knowing he was only doing enough to keep you on the very brink, loving the desperate little cries you released until it was all too much, and you cried out, "Please! Nyx!"

Sucking on your clit was all that he needed to do to have you spiralling into euphoric bliss. Your thighs trembled as they squeezed around his head, but he would happily be suffocated between your legs, so let the warmth of the press into his cheeks until you'd calmed down enough to relax the muscles.

Breathlessly, you looked down your body to where he was grinning, kissing the top of your pubis before licking his shiny lips.

"You're wearing too many clothes". The armour he was wearing vanished in a flicker of magic. Sitting up on the bed, your hands wound around his toned shoulders,  feeling the muscle ripple and move beneath as you tugged him closer and kissed him with all the desperation you could muster.

Both of you were moving with such urgency that your emotions were overwhelmed, tears spilling down your cheeks as you cried out the words, "Mine!" repeatedly. You'd heard of the frenzy after a mating bond is accepted, but you never anticipated it to feel this chaotic. You needed every single inch of him, wanted to taste his body, feel the warmth of his skin, and hear the moans from between his lips. There was too much to do, and your brain was engulfed with the need to do everything simultaneously.

Gripping onto his arms, you pulled Nyx so that he was now the one lying in the centre of the bed as you moved to straddle over his waist. With your lips still desperately moving together, tongue caressing and deepening into each other's mouths, your hands finally grasped around the thick, veiny length of your mate.

During any other intimate moment, you would have admired the sheer size of him or the beautiful sensation of him throbbing between your fingers, but right now, all you were desperate to do was give him pleasure.

Squeezing your fingers more firmly around the shaft, you moved up and down, using your thumb to smear the precum over the head. He shivered at the touch, his abs tightening and flexing as he groaned in pleasure.

"Need to be inside of you", he pleaded against your lips. You didn't need to tell twice as you roused high on your knees and direct the tip of his cock towards your drenched hole. You only gave yourself a second to adjust to the sheer size of him before you were rotating your hips and beginning to rock back and forth with increasing speed.

Nyx's arms wrapped around your spine, reaching to grasp onto the back of your shoulder so he had a good foundation to hold and fuck his hips up in time to meet yours. The firmness of his strokes had you seeing stars with how deep he felt. You were utterly consumed by Nyx.

The two of you were fucking each other with such a bruising pace that all you could do was dig your nails into his chest and ride him like your life depended on it. It was only a matter of minutes until you were coming, squeezing your walls tightly around his cock until he, too, was tipping his head back and grunting your name with his own pleasure.

You all but collapsed on top of his chest, greedily sucking in air that smelled entirely of him, and you couldn't get enough. It seemed he couldn't for you either as you continued to feel his hardness within you, not softening even after his orgasm.

Before long, with your face still plastered to his sweaty chest, your hips began to roll, his cock nudging deep inside of you.

"I can't fucking get enough of you", you gasp as he throbbed within you.

Nyx rolled the two of you over, so now he was on top, your legs repositioned so that they were against his shoulders, and you were all but bent in half, the angle meaning he could fuck even deeper.

"Yes! Nyx, please don't stop!" you scream, reaching over his shoulders and stroking the sensitive membrane of his wings, watching them flare behind his back.

"Say it", he begs, his eyes glazed whilst looking down at you.

"Nyx!"

"Yes! Say you're mine!"

"I'm yours!" Nyx moves harder, his hand slipping down your legs until his thumb could circle your clit.

"That's right", he grunts between thrusts, "And I'm yours. Forever".

You orgasm so hard you're sure you black out for a couple of seconds because, in the next breath, Nyx is beside you, spooning himself around you, kissing along your collarbones and stroking his palm down your stomach.

"I didn't go too hard on you, did I?" he asks with a rough voice.

You smile softly whilst reaching up to scratch your nails behind his ear, tucking the curls behind his pointed ears, careful not to snag the strands on the multiple silver hoops in his ear. "Not at all, I loved every second".

Nyx grinned, and the starlight that usually glowed in his eyes returned for the first time that day, and he was finally at ease.

"I can't believe you ate that stale bread", you say, laughing at the memory.

"I would have eaten the mould too if you'd given it to me. Whatever food you gave me, I would have accepted it with need in my heart". Those perfect lips of his began to kiss across your cheek and down your throat; however, now that the madness of needing to have sex with him had calmed for a moment, you could actually look him over properly, and that's when you noticed the doting of bruises over his arms and chest, all in different stages of healing.

You tense and ask urgently, "Were these from him? Earlier in the day, I mean?"

Nyx moves away from kissing your throat to look at what you're referring to, shaking his head and casually explaining, "No, they're from training. That asshole didn't have time to make a move against me before I-". You'd lost the ability to hear anything further as a fire burned so thoroughly throughout your soul that it momentarily stole your breath. Red burning anger pulsed in your soul, unlike anything you'd ever experienced.

Before a coherent thought could drift through your mind, you're pushing away from Nyx and climbing out of bed on unsteady legs. Needing to half crawl on the floor before righting your posture, you marched towards his bedroom door.

"Woah, Little Star", Nyx is suddenly in front of you, blocking your exit as he holds his hands up.

You try and push past him, but he just carefully eases you away from the door, "Let me past!" you shout in frustration, trying to wiggle past him.

"I don't think so", he responds gently and calmly.

"Nyx, let me out of this house!" You don't get far through as he moves to press your body against the wooden door.

"And what exactly do you think you're going to do?"

Baring your teeth at him over your shoulder, you continued trying to get out of his hold. "I'll kill everyone who harmed you!"

"Oh really?" Nnyx says lightheartedly and with a slight chortle. "You'll kill them? Miss' I despise violence'?"

You turn around so that you're chest to chest with Nyx, looking up at his with eyes so full of fury he actually bulked and softened his laughter. "Whoever hurt you doesn't deserve to live! They hurt you. My mate. MY MATE. They won't live to see the night!"

Nyx wasn't sure how to calm you down, having never seen you with such anger pulsing through your veins before, but he did what he thought was best: distract you. His fingers clutched desperately into your hair as his mouth pressed against yours firmly enough to cause bruises.

You fight and push against him at first, but then thoughts of anger and pain dissolve into lust and need as you're once more desperately grabbing him. Tearing your mouth away, you kiss down his throat, tasting the salty spice of his natural scent.

"These feelings, they will pass", Nyx reassures as he closes his eyes, thoughts entirely on your mouth as you close your lips around his nipple, biting the sensitive bud.

"So you get to have revenge on someone that wrong me, but I don't get to do the same for you?" you ask whilst looking up at him through your lashes, your nails scratching down his abs before grabbing his once more hardening cock.

He releases another long breath, trying to keep his composure as he thrusts into your palm. "I'm saying that I've had a lifetime of training, and taking care of one pathetic asshole was light work. The mating bond is the intense anger you're feeling, protecting my pride. Everything is so new and fresh, but it will pass Little Star. You'll understand that these bruises were all part of my training in a couple of hours. Everyone has similar marks, making the training brutal and volatile. So this feeling, it will pass. Anyway, you are not leaving this room naked with my cum still dripping down my thighs".

You're finally beginning to relax as your harsh touches soften until you're gently cupping his shaft and looking up at him sheepishly, "I thought you would have liked it if everyone got to see who I belonged to?"

Turning on the spot, you rested your hot cheek against the cool wood of the door and began to grind your arse against his cock, "Mmm, don't tempt me", he growls against the side of your face as he moves closer, bending his knees so he could position his cock into your cunt.

Nyx proceeds to fuck you so hard against the door that it begins to crack down the centre. But neither of you stopped for hours. Not until you were both thoroughly exhausted that neither could stand.

"I love you," he whispers against your lips as you teeter on unconsciousness's edge.

"I love you too", you tiredly say back, eyes drooping, and the darkness of sleep welcomed you into its abyss.

[nikethestatue]

"Fated mates'. SJM is a 'fated mates' writer. She'll never go against the concept of 'fated mates'!

You know what bothers me about this?

The notion that only these pre-destined relationships matter. That only they can make people feel love and passion, sorrow and yearning, desire and heartbreak. That bonds trump love. Whereas SJM was very clear--it's love that trumps the bond. It's love that trumps fate.

Eluciens, of course, are the biggest advocates of the whole 'fated mates' notion. Because they think that somehow, they are 'advocating' for Lucien when they support this. But objectively speaking, ALL of Lucien's most important relationships had nothing to do with any bond. His loyalty, his often misguided support for people who perhaps needed to be questioned, his friendships, his love--none had anything to do with the bond. His bonded relationship with Elain is in fact the weakest relationship that he has. What's been meaningful to him was Andras and the other sentries in Spring, who were his friends, and whom he mourned. It's been Tamlin, who took him in and who protected him and offered his his friendships, alongside a sanctuary and a position. It's been Feyre and Vassa--two humans whom he chose to befriend and protect and serve. And then Jessminda, his love and his lover, who, by his own admission made him happy. None of these people are his 'fated mates', including Jessminda, and yet, they are the ones who shaped him and made his life bearable, and worth living.

If only 'fated mates' matter, then are we to assume that Lyria's whole life and relationship with Rowan was pointless? Was her love for him pointless? Her death? The family and the life that she built with him? Because it wasn't fated, does it mean it wasn't wanted? Does it mean it wasn't important?

Asterin and her Hunter had love and sorrow the likes of which hardly anyone else experienced. They had a daughter. They had a life they could't share. And he waited for her in that cabin until he died. But they weren't mates. So does it not matter? And if one of them got a mate, would that bond trump a lifetime of their experiences?

Lorcan and Elide aren't mates. Should a mate pop up, would Lorcan ever leave Elide, to whom he bound his whole life? Whose existence is tied to hers, because he never wanted to be without her, and never wanted her to be without him?

And when Rhys told Feyre that if this is the only time that they were allotted then that's enough, that knowing her and being with her even for a little bit was enough to last a lifetime? Was it only because they were mates? Or was it because he waited for 500 years to love someone as much as he loved her?

"Fated mates' is, in fact, one of the worst things that you can build a narrative on. Because it doesn't take into consideration the joy of the human experience, which always comes with pain and struggles. But that's what makes it meaningful and worth living for.

Would Cassian love Nesta any less if they weren't mates? She, who chose to kill over 1,000 people for him, years before they were mates--does that love not supersede a mating bond?

And if ALL you have is a mate bond, is it ever enough? Would it ever be enough?

[lifeisabiscuit]

The amount of people excusing what Rhysand did to Feyre utm and saying he didn't SA her or just touching someone isn't SA, is alarming.

So would these people be okay with some dude drugging their drink and feeling them up in a club while forcing them to dance with them? Or is it just okay if the guy is hot? That's very concerning.

Someone groping you or touching you without your consent is SA. It doesn't matter if they don't touch your private areas, it's still assault. Someone drugging you is a crime. Feyre didn't deserve that and I hope people know that if that happens to them its not okay and it's not their fault.

Also, Rhysand did not need to force a kiss on Feyre. He snapped his fingers and got rid of the paint on Tamlin, he could have done the same to Feyre. He admits he only did that cause he was mad at Tamlin. And the only reason Feyre was at the parties practically naked was because he forced her to come. He could have just visited her in her cell. Amarantha was more suspicious that he was bringing her out. Feyre did not enjoy anything Rhysand did to her utm. She saw it for what it was until SJM retconned the whole thing in maf and all of a sudden it was okay because he explained (never apologized).

[youareatragedy]

I think everyone, especially all women and people who identify as women should be more like Nesta. When you say "no" it means no, and it doesn’t matter what how or who—your "no" should be enough and respected. When that boundary is ignored, you should be allowed to express your displeasure at being disrespected.

I’m in the camp of giving Nesta what she’s owed for her efforts in the war. Liquidate all their family wealth in the human realms, split it equally among the sisters, and give her her portion. Anything. Let her be, because we know Nesta. Sooner or later she would rise on her own terms and by then she might be more willing and happy to live.

Feyre and Elain should also understand this. Instead of abandoning her or whining (or crying to her eggs) about how unpleasant Nesta is while processing her trauma, they should have done better. If Feyre and Elain don’t recognize this, maybe it's time to admit that Feyre and Elain also failed her sister. But of course, Feyre and/or Elain stans won’t let anything bad be said about them, will they?

We ALL should be more like Nesta. We all should be allowed to process our trauma and pain in our own time, without being forced to "heal" as quickly as possible just because your sister and her husband are embarrassed by you for spending time with common folk or using money that doesn’t even put a dent in your brother-in-law’s colonizer-sized mountain of wealth on gambling. I think SJM did Nesta so dirty (and deliberately) so we would side with the Inner Circle still.

Where is Nesta’s money and family wealth hmm? This reeks of financial and emotional abuse. I wouldn’t be surprised if Rhys is itching to challenge Nesta in combat training just so he can feel “justified” in hitting her.

#GIVE NESTA HER MONEY

[verperina]

It Was Just for One Night

Pairing: Dorian Havilliard x f!reader 

Summary: What was only supposed to be a one-time thing turns into a two-time thing.

Warnings: 18+ smut

Word Count: 5,666

Author's Note: This is my first time writing in a while and my first time writing for Throne of Glass/SJM’s work. I’ve never published anything on here before, so please don’t be too harsh. I hate the dialogue and the smut, but oh well. Massive credit to @autumnshighlady for helping me with the smut and for being so kind.

You feel the faint touch of a phantom hand ghost along the skin of your bare back, leaving goosebumps. You suppress a shudder. You could feel a pair of eyes burning into the side of your face, making your heart beat faster. You raised the glass of red wine to your lips and swallowed a mouthful down, trying to appear calm with your father standing beside you, conversing with another lord. They were talking about something that you had no interest in or care enough to act like you were listening to them.

His eyes were on you. Watching you. Always watching you. You finally let your eyes meet the king’s gaze and they were filled with pure hunger and desire. His sapphire eyes slowly trailed the entire length of your body, taking in the dark navy satin dress that had been gifted to you this morning. You weren’t even aware who had gifted you the dress, but it was obvious now. From the way his lips twitched and the hunger in his eyes became more and more apparent.  

It had only been a month since you and Dorian had slept together. A drunken fueled haze that had been filled with pure carnal desire. It was a one-time thing. You knew it would never happen again, but it didn’t mean that you would if it did. He had been a very generous and a very passionate lover. Making sure that you had found release, multiple times, before finding his own. When he finished, he asked if you were okay, dressed himself and left your chambers and that was it. You weren’t expecting anything after. It would be foolish to think so. 

You were surprised that the king had chosen you of all people to bed. You had heard that when Dorian was still the prince he was a harlot, so surely it wouldn’t be hard for him to find someone more appealing since he’s the King of Adarlan.

After that night there were times when both of you would be in the same room and you would make yourself never look in his direction, or he would talk to your father about diplomatic matters and rather quickly, you would excuse yourself. You didn’t want anyone to find out. You could only imagine the scandal it would cause.

An older man was talking to Dorian, and the king nodded his head, pretending that he was listening. His crown gleaming in the light, rings decorating his long fingers, dressed exquistely, and seated on his throne full of pride. He was beautiful and he knew it too. 

You forced yourself to divert your gaze, focusing instead on the people dancing to the music and the decorations that adorned the room for the Yulemas ball. But you felt it again. That phantom touch. And this time, it wasn’t faint. It felt more apparent. More forceful. 

The touch stroked the length of your spine before landing on the curve of your backside, trailing downwards until it reached the back of your thigh, and gave a soft squeeze. You purse your lips as your hand clenches the stem of the wine glass, face warming, and you quickly glance at your father and the other lord, making sure they weren’t paying attention to what was happening, before looking back toward Dorian to see his eyes were still on you. He wasn’t even trying to hide the smug look on his face.

Arrogant prick. You couldn’t believe he was choosing to do this in a room full of people. Especially with your father right next to you. You shot a subtle look at Dorian, but it only seemed to amuse him. He cocked his head to the side, a mocking gesture, daring you to do something. The tension was starting to become too much. 

You swallowed.

“I’m going out to the garden for some air,” you said quietly to your father. He waved his hand in dismissal and continued his conversation with the man. You placed your glass down on the nearest table and began weaving your way through the crowds of people, careful to not get anyone’s wine on your dress. You could feel Dorian’s gaze burning through the back of your head, following your every movement. 

When you walked outside you inhaled the air, welcoming it into your lungs and letting the cold breeze cool your flushed body. Everything had felt too warm and crowded inside that room. Too overwhelming.

Snow fell from the sky, landing on the ground and kissing it a beautiful white. A few snowflakes landed in your hair. The wind was lightly blowing, making your skin prickle. You pulled a single rose from a bush, careful to not cut your fingers on any of the thorns. The rose was a deep, luscious shade of red with soft petals. You lifted the flower to your nose and inhaled its sweet and floral scent. There was a soft crunch in the snow behind you. Footsteps. You didn’t have to turn around to know who they belonged to. 

“That is a very beautiful dress,” Dorian said, his voice smooth. You turned your head to the side and met his gaze. Pure mirth in his stare. His raven black hair shining in the moonlight. “You look rather flustered.”

You kept your face blank, feeling a small hint of annoyance starting to bubble up inside of you. “Are you mad?”

Dorian quirked an eyebrow. “No, ‘Your Majesty’?” 

A roll of your eyes. “Are you mad, Your Majesty?” 

He grinned. “Ask me tomorrow.”

"My father was right there,” you huffed. “He could have seen. Anyone could have seen.”

“Yes, but no one did.”

“I’m not an exhibsionist.”

“I apologize, my lady.” He gave a mocking bow.

“Is this a game to you?” you ask, turning to face him fully. 

His brows slightly furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You had your fun. We both did,” you explained. “It was a one-time thing, so why did you give me this dress and why did you do that in there?”

He was quiet for a moment, studying you, and then he said, “What if I want it to become a two-time thing?”

“Why? What’s in it for you?” you say cautiously. Surely, he wasn’t serious.

“I get to enjoy your presence once more,” he answered. “I rather enjoyed myself the last time.”

You try to hide your surprise, but he caught it. You kept your eyes on him, furrowing your eyebrows, and wondered why he wanted to sleep together again, with you, when he could have anyone else. You weren’t completely turned-off to the idea. It would be a lie to say that you hadn’t thought about it.

In the dead of night, you would let your fingers slip inside your wet cunt and fantasize about his hands wrapping around your throat, his teeth tugging on your nipple, and his cock thrusting inside of you. The sound of his groans and your moans, both of your bodies slick with sweat. You felt a flutter low in your stomach. Your throat bobbed.

“We could enjoy each other’s company once more.” 

“What if someone finds out?” You cross your arms across your chest. “It would make things difficult for you, but mostly for me.”

“The guards wouldn’t say anything,” he reassured. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Surely the absence of your presence has been noted.”

“I announced that I was retiring for the night and told everyone to continue partying.”

“What if someone sees?”

“Everyone is too busy drinking and dancing,” he paused for a moment, looking you up and down, noticing that your body was stiff. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Do you not want to? If not, then it’s fine, I don’t mean to place pressure on you.”

You could tell that Dorian’s words were genuine. His face was soft and patient, waiting for you to respond. “I want to,” you admitted. His eyes became bright at your words. “I just don’t want to complicate things.” He waited for you to continue. “You’re the King of Adarlan. I don’t think people would be pleased to know that you’ve bedded me. I would probably be seen as a woman who tempted the king for money and power; as a whore.”

“It's no one's business what I do, or what you do. I am the king. My guards know to keep their mouths shut, especially the ones that are stationed outside my chambers. If anyone does find out, then you can come to me, and I will deal with it.” 

You thought about it for a moment, weighing your options, and glanced around the garden to see that it was still empty. You met his gaze once more and nodded. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice coming out low. He took a step closer to you. 

“Yes.” You licked your lips, and his eyes trailed the movement. You took a step forward, glancing at his lips, tilting your head upwards and parting your lips slightly, giving him permission to kiss you. His hand came to cup your face, his thumb lightly stroking the side of your cheek while his other hand settled on your hip, giving it a hard squeeze.

Your bodies were pressed against each other, and it was then that you could feel the hardness of his cock through his trousers. You leaned your head forward, feeling his breathe as your lips were about to connect-

You jerked back as you let out a low hiss of pain as one of the thorns sliced into the tip of your index finger. A bead of blood pooled at the cut, making your skin sting. Dorian plucked the flower from your hand and brought your finger close to his face, his eyes inspecting the small cut and then he looked at you, a sly look on his face.

“You need to be more careful, dove.” He brought your finger to his lips, pressing light kisses onto the skin slowly, as if savoring the taste of the salt on your skin mixed with your blood. His tongue replaced his lips, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Your breath hitched and you could feel wetness start to pool in between your thighs. His teeth harshly nipped at the skin, making a small noise escape your throat. “Dorian,” you moaned quietly. “Please.” Your toes curled. He tossed the rose on the ground, releasing your finger, and brought your lips to his. 

His lips were cold but soft, and you ran your hands through his thick hair, your nails lightly scraping his scalp. You swallowed the groan that left his mouth. His hands are roughly squeezing your backside, pushing you closer to him. He tugged your bottom lip between his teeth as you pressed your thighs together to try and relieve some of the aching tension.

“Not here,” you breathed.

He nodded and grabbed your hand, walking both of you out of the garden and through a door that had no one near it, and led the two of you back inside the castle. You had to walk fast to keep up with the strides of his long legs. The halls that he led you through were thankfully empty, not even the guards were positioned in the hallway, it looked like any rarely came through this way. He squeezed your hand and brushed his thumb across your knuckles. 

The hall to where his chambers came into view and the guards stationed outside didn’t so much as flinch as Dorian neared the door. They only gave a respectful bow to their king, averting their eyes, and pretended to not notice that his hand was interlaced with yours, or that his lips were swollen, and the tanned skin of his cheeks were flushed.

He pushed open the door and led you through his room, quickly closing the door. You stopped in the middle of the room and noticed it was rather untidy; books were open and lying on his desk and the table by the sofa, his bed was unmade, and a few of his clothes were on the floor. But it smelled like him. So much like Dorian.

Your back was facing Dorian, his footsteps sounding closer, the sound of his crown being placed gently on a table, and then he was right behind you. His front pressed against your back, the warmth of his body seeping into you. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before grabbing your chin, making you meet his gaze, sapphire eyes were blazing. His forehead rested against yours. “I need to hear you say it.”

Your breathing was growing heavier.

“Yes. Please.”

His hand released your chin, moving your head back to its original position and his free hand came to rest on your hip. His hand then wrapped around your throat, squeezing softly, and tilted your head back. Dorian’s lips were brushing the shell of your ear before his teeth tugged on the lobe of your ear, biting gently.

The hand on your waist moved until it was settled right above your pelvis, pushing you back so you could feel his cock. You slightly shifted your hips, grinding your ass on his hardened length, and you were pleased when a low groan left him.

He left a trail of rough kisses down the column of your throat, teeth occasionally nipping and harshly sucking on the flesh, marking you as his. Quiet moans escaping your lips as you let your body lean more into him.

The thin strap of your dress fell down your shoulder, exposing your collarbone. Phantom hands came to cup your breasts through the flimsy material of your dress, squeezing before pinching your peaked nipples, hard. 

A hiss left you, arching your back away from his body, but his hand pushed you back against him and held you tightly, and grabbed your face again, placing his lips on yours. The tip of your tongue meeting his own. Heat bloomed in your core. He bit your bottom lip as he removed the dress from your body and let it fall to the floor. You turned around, arms snaking around his neck and pulling at the thick strands of his hair. 

Both of his hands grabbed yours as he pulled his lips away from yours. Breathing heavily, he guided you toward his large bed. His cheeks were a flushed red and his once neat hair was messy from you dragging your fingers through it.

You climbed onto the bed and sat up on your knees, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and kissed him again. His hand came to cup the side of your ass, his blunt fingernails lightly scratching before a harsh smack came down, the sound echoing throughout the room.

Your body jolted forward and you let out a loud, breathy moan. You felt yourself becoming more aroused. 

“You like how that feels?” Dorian asked. Another harsh smack came down, on the opposite side this time, when you didn’t answer. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” you groaned, head tipping back in pleasure.

“I’m going to take good care of you.” The words sounded like a promise.

You tugged off his jacket and let it drop to the floor. You took off his tunic next, revealing the pale line on his tan skin from where the collar had been, and strong, firm muscle. Your hand came to cup his cock through his black trousers. Dorian hissed, eyebrows slightly creasing together in pleasure. You press light kisses on the pale part of his neck, sucking harshly, leaving love bites of your own and running your tongue over the bruised flesh.

He grabbed you by the neck, putting his lips back on yours. His kiss was deliberately slow. Teasing. Savoring the taste of the red wine on your lips. His fingers are pulling at the hair at the nape of your neck. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, wanting to feel the hardness of his length against your stomach. Fingertips pressing into the curve of your neck as his tongue sweeps over your mouth. 

You moan into the kiss, feeling his phantom hands squeezing your ass, tracing the band of your underwear. His fingertips brush over your nipples. They’re cold with his ice magic. You shiver and his mouth curves in delight. The tip of Dorian’s nail grazes the hardened bud before he bends down and takes your nipple in his mouth. Your underwear is sticky with your arousal.

He keeps his eyes on you, watching how your head tips back, how your lips part as you begin moaning breathily. He rolls your other nipple between his thumb and index finger, leaving goosebumps on your skin from the coldness of his flesh. He sucks roughly, moaning around the bud as you pull at his hair, and then he tugs at your nipple with his teeth. His tongue laps over it before he begins sucking again. 

“Feels so good,” you mumble, trying to catch your breath. You can feel him grin in satisfaction.

Dorian releases the abused flesh and he starts repeating the same motions on the other nipple, but this time it’s harsher, more animalistic. His hand starts trailing down your stomach and then cups your clothed cunt. A chuckle leaves his lips at what he found. “You’re so wet.” 

He dips his hand in your underwear and runs a finger through your folds. You start to slowly move your hips, rubbing your clit on the heel of his palm to relieve the aching tension. “Stay still,” he warns, “or I’ll stop.” You groan in frustration, but comply, hesitantly. He circles the entrance to your hole, gathering the wetness that had pooled there, and then slips a finger inside of you.

Your back arches the same time as you let out a choked moan. You clench around him, fighting the urge to rub your clit against his palm. Painfully slow, in a teasing manner, he thrusts his finger in and out. He takes his time in stretching you out. Your voice is husky as you say, “Kiss me.” You open your eyes to see that he’s already looking at you. Pure desire in his gaze. 

“Kiss me,” you repeat again. He obliges. There’s nothing gentle or soft about the kiss. It’s messy and fast and rough. Your teeth are clashing against each other, desperate to taste each other. Your breaths are labored, trying to breathe in more air.

He enters a second finger and when you gasp, he shoves his tongue inside your mouth. You dig your nails into the meat of his shoulders before brushing your thumbs over his nipples.

“Since that night I’ve thought of doing this again,” Dorian admitted. “I fucked myself to the thought of you. Imagining it was you stroking my cock.”

His words made you clench around his fingers. You could picture it. His eyes closed, head leaning back against the pillows, and his hand gripping his cock, squeezing hard. His groans coming out hoarsely, loudly. There was a sense of triumph in knowing that you had made the King of Adarlan fantasize about you. It was satisfying. 

“So have I,” you also admitted. 

“Tell me,” he demanded.

You swallowed. “I shoved my fingers inside my cunt and wished that it was yours instead. I thought of your tongue on my cunt, of your hand around my throat and your cock inside me.” 

Dorian’s fingers thrust faster the same time phantom hands tug at your nipples, a warm feeling blooming low in your stomach. Your moans were coming out in short gasps. “Dorian.” Your fingernails leave marks on his broad shoulders and your head tips back. “I’m so close.” The pressure that had been building was becoming more intense. He whispers words of encouragement and praise. 

And with a curl of his fingers you cry out, arching your body into him as your orgasm hits you. Your breath comes out in stutters, your body jerking and your knees trembling. His phantom hands help keep you upright. He coaxes you through it. And when your moans cease, he very slowly removes his fingers from your cunt with a squelching sound. 

He brings them to his face, inspecting the wet sheen on them. Dorian smiles. “Look at how soaked you are.” Your arousal coats his entire hand, dripping down to his wrist. And while he keeps his eyes locked on yours, he puts his digits into his mouth and tastes your juices. Your breath hitches. His sapphire eyes darken considerably. 

The palm of his hand rests on your collarbone and he gently pushes you until your back is lying on the bed. He reaches forward and rips off the lacy material of your underwear. After tossing them across the room he takes a step back and greedily takes in the sight of you; a thin sheen of sweat is covering your body, your nipples are red and swollen from where he sucked and bit on them, and your cunt is dripping wet. 

“I need you,” your voice snaps Dorian out of his daze.

He starts to undo the button of trousers and pushes them down, removing his undershorts also. He steps out of them quickly and tosses them aside, and his cock slaps against his abdomen hard. You take in the sight; the fine patch of dark hair, the tip of his cock is red and leaking with his arousal.

You lick your lips, desperate to have his cock in your mouth. The previous time you fucked each other, you only briefly got to lick him, and you had forgotten what he’d tasted like.

He wraps a hand around his cock, giving it a firm stroke. He hisses. “You see what you do to me?”

Dorian walks forward, kneels on the bed and uses his phantom hands to restrain your wrists to the mattress. He lowers himself between your legs and an almost pained look crosses his features as he stares at your core, wet and gleaming for him.

It was a slow torture, him slowly kissing the inside of your thighs, nipping at skin and leaving love bites. His thumbs draw circles into your hips, and you keep squirming, wanting his tongue on your most sensitive part, but he seemed keen on the idea to tease you.

“Dorian,” you rasped. He would continue teasing until you begged for it. It’s what he wanted. You held his gaze and watched as he waited, a grin was on his face, but you could see his body trembling with restraint to keep himself from ravishing you. “Please.”

He cocks his head to the side, mockingly, and his grin is feline. “Because you asked nicely. . .”

Dorian took a long, languid lick up the center of your core. You let out a moan in relief and your eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the feeling of his tongue sliding up and down you, tasting you thoroughly. He peppers kisses along your cunt before he starts licking again. 

One of his hands comes up to pinch your nipple and you buck your hips against his face, but he throws an arm across your waist to keep you still. He wraps his lips directly around your clit and you cry out as he starts sucking the sensitive nub. You struggle against the phantom hands that bound your wrists. You want to run your fingers through his hair grind against his face.

Grabbing your thighs, Dorian drapes them over his shoulders to hold you closer and keeps his eyes pinned to your face. He wanted to watch you come on his tongue. He pumps his fingers in and out of you, curling ever so slightly. 

“Right there,” you gasp.

You watch as he presses his hips hard against the mattress and begins rutting against it, a soft groan leaving him and it vibrates through your core.

You try to free your hands from his magic, but it doesn’t budge. “Let me touch you.” You look at him with pleading eyes. “Please, let me touch you.” Finally, those phantom hands release their grip on you.

Your body writhes and your fingers rake through his black hair to push him closer, nails scratching along his scalp. Your cries of pleasure encourage him to keep going. His teeth scraping your clit is what makes you climax. His fingers quicken their pace, tongue moving faster, letting you ride out your high.

It leaves you trembling with needing more, but Dorian removes his tongue and fingers from you and leans back on his knees. His eyes linger on your abused cunt before he looks at you and you stare at him, too. Blue eyes full of adoration. His hair was in disarray, cheeks a pretty shade of pink, and his chin and lips were coated with your arousal but he didn’t seem to care.

He looked devastating.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he grabbed you by the hips and turned you around so you were on your knees, ass in the air, and the side of your face was pressed against the sheets. His hand left a hard smack across your ass cheek making a yelp escape your lips. Dorian’s hands once again grab your hips to bring you close to his face, and his fingers tease your entrance, and you arch your back, urging him to bring you another orgasm again.

He laughed teasingly. “So eager, dove.”

He sticks his tongue inside of your cunt and your entire body shudders. He moans, as if this is pleasuring him just as much as it is you. The taste of you was going to haunt him after this was over. The essence of you would haunt him. 

He presses his fingers inside your leaking hole and the pace is fast, desperate to draw a third orgasm from you. Dorian wanted you to come again, and again, and again. He needed you to come again. 

Another harsh slap to your ass has you moaning out his name. Your hands clutch the sheets tightly and you rock your hips against his face, and unlike last time, he doesn’t try to make you stay still. He lets you grind yourself on his face and makes his phantom hands rock your hips to move them faster. The tips of his fingers would leave bruises from how hard their grip was.

Lewd noises were coming out of his mouth and your face warmed from the sounds.

Your body trembles as he flicks his tongue against your clit repeatedly and you feel yourself come again. A loud cry echoing against the walls of his room. He hums against your cunt, letting the vibrations further stimulate you. It isn’t until your whimpering that he finally relents. You’re panting, strands of hair clinging to your forehead, and your knees give out beneath you.

“You’re doing so good for me,” Dorian praised. He presses a kiss against your spine. And then another. His hand rubbing your red backside from the slaps he gave. His ice magic soothing the tender skin.

“Dorian,” you mumble.

“Are you okay?” he asks, running a strong hand down the length of your spine gently. Your skin prickles.

You manage a weak nod.

“Use your words.”

“Yes,” you murmur. Your eyelids were heavy and the perspiration felt sticky on the nape of your neck.

He helps turn you around so you’re laying on your back. You drink in the sight of him and he does the same. Dorian’s lips were shining with your arousal and his cock looked painfully hard. You wanted to kiss him. You reached out a trembling hand, and he eyed it before taking hold of it and leaning over you, bracing his body weight on his elbows. His nose brushes yours softly.

“Kiss me,” you breathe. He brought his mouth to yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue. You were both frantic and desperate, and didn’t want to pull your mouths apart from each other. 

You cup his face, rubbing your thumb along the sharp cheekbone as your other hand played with the strands of his hair. His body was trembling and whatever self-control he had left was slipping away.

You reach a hand down, gripping his length and give it a lazy stroke. He makes a soft noise at the touch, slowly moving his hips as you start pressing kisses onto his collarbones. His forehead resting on top of yours, eyes closed and savoring the moment. You run your thumb over the slit, gathering moisture before giving a gentle squeeze that makes a low growl leave Dorian. That last bit of self-control was completely gone.

He takes his cock and lines the head of it up with your cunt and in one motion, he fully sheaths himself inside of you. A sigh of contentment leaves the pair of you. His pace starts off slow, languid. Your hips roll against his, trying to find a rhythm that matches. His hands roam over the sides of your body before landing on your plush hips. Fingertips digging into your flesh.

“Tell me how you feel.” He licked the side of your throat.

“Good,” you pant. “So good.” 

“You like me being inside you?” His tone was teasing, mocking, but you could hear how gravelly he sounded.

“Yes.” 

He presses kisses to your lips, your neck, your collarbones, the swell of your breasts. Tongue flicking over both nipples. Your legs lock around his trim waist, bringing him closer to you and you clench tightly around him, and his hips jerk, drawing two mirrored moans of pleasure from you both. Your head tips back in bliss and your entire body is buzzing from pleasure.

Dorian’s eyes were a shade of blue so dark they looked like the freezing cold waters of the sea. He moans out your name like a prayer and dips down to kiss you again, as if one isn’t enough. Your hands run up and down his chest, the tip of your nail scraping his nipple. His thrusts were becoming rougher, deeper, more punishing than before. Your breasts bouncing with every snap of his hips.

One of his phantom hands started rubbing your clit and a low pressure was beginning to bloom in your belly, making a breathy gasp leave you. The walls of your cunt start contracting. Hot, heavy, open-mouthed kisses leave a thin string of saliva connecting your lips. It was messy. Both of you were moaning into each other’s mouth. Both of you sounded so needy.

Dorian buried his face into the crook of your neck. A cry left your lips as his teeth bit down on your skin. His thrusts were brutal, each one bringing you closer to the edge, hips snapping into yours hard enough that the headboard was banging against the wall. He obviously didn’t care if someone heard. And neither did you. The fingers on your clit were moving faster and your body was shaking. “Please, please, please. . .”

That familiar coil settled in your lower abdomen snaps. Your back arching off the bed as you come, the walls of your cunt clenching around him rhythmically, and you bury your forehead into the crook of his neck. Nails leaving red marks on his shoulders and down his back, and toes curling from the overstimulation.

Dorian fucks you through it, and his groans are growing louder and his thrusts harsher; he was going to come. He breathes out a desperate, pleading noise, leaning down until his forehead is pressed against yours. He fucks into you harder. The sound of skin-on-skin reverberating through the room. You give him words of encouragement, pressing quick kisses to his lips.

He comes with a deep, guttural groan. His hips stuttering. And you feel his seed spill into you as he rides out his high, fingertips gripping your hips so tight bruises would probably appear. His thrusts start to slow down before eventually stopping, and he pauses for a moment, panting heavily, before collapsing on top of you, unable to hold himself up any longer.

You brush back the damp strands of hair that cling to his forehead. Both of your bodies are shaking and slick with sweat. His breath tickles your skin. 

There were no noises in the room anymore save for the sounds of both of you gasping for air, but it didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable. Dorian’s fingers loosened their tight grip on your hips and rubbed the flesh tenderly. A sigh of contentment left you. A passionate and generous lover indeed.

You could feel him start to grow restless. You unlocked your legs from around his waist and he gently pulled out from you with an almost inaudible hiss, and rolled onto his back right beside you, trying to catch his breath. The air in the room grew cold, his magic cooling the both of you off.

Your limbs felt heavy and you could feel his seed spilling out from you. You closed your eyes for a moment, still feeling the tingling sensation all over your body. Deep down you knew that no one would ever fuck you as good as Dorian just had. You didn’t know if this would happen again or if people would find out that you had fucked their king.

A small part of you inside felt sad knowing that you would be staying at the castle for only one more month before leaving to go back to your city. But you knew it was just sex. You didn’t expect anything more. It would be foolish to.

You could feel Dorian’s eyes burning into the side of your head, his lips parting. “Perhaps we should do this again.” The words were spoken nonchalantly, but you picked up on the tinge of nervousness. “Make it a three-time thing.”

You lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug, making yourself appear calm, and felt a grin tugging at your lips. “Maybe.”

[nikalaeva]

And yet Feyre is the High Lady?

I already wrote - I don't hate Feyre. In ACOTAR she was a little bit silly and smug, but good character.

If you are reading this, you know Prythian's rules. Not me or you or anyone else, but the author wrote it. Wives/mates of the High Lords have a title Lady of the Court.

Now the question is - if Rhysand is a true feminist, why didn't he change laws for his darling Feyre? Then he could have said to Helion: "It is now the LAW of the Night Court that High Lord's wife is his equal." "Because I love her" is not something to reason your political decisions with. And one more question - why should the other High Lords call Feyre High Lady? Rhysand's decision has no legal force even in the Night Court, much less outside of it.

Why does Feyre need to be a High Lady, for SJM Rhysand's pride? What exactly does Feyre want to do that can't be done without "High Lady" title? Does Feyre want to change some laws or introduce new ones? Does she want to change the social hierarchy, democratize society or, maybe, prepare it for an absolute monarchy? She is not interested (and does not understand anything) in politics at all, but the title is important for politics. I doubt very much people would want a ruler who is only interested in art - not finances, not diplomacy, not domestic and foreign trade.

Charity work is not main duty of ruler.

Being able to read and write is not enough to control the Court's tax system and fight poverty. Feyre's fans would probably agree that people with same level of education would plan the country's budget or, idk, calculate their salaries and pays.

Banning service for fairies of the CoN 'cause you don't like them personally is illegal - they are also citizens of the NC.

Refusing to communicate with one of the High Lords 'cause he is your toxic ex is blatant political illiteracy.

Feyre's feelings don't matter on political arena. And the meeting of the High Lords is such a scandal, which proved - Feyre's title is a "mask" of feminism, just a check mark for "girl boss" trope. There is nothing but incompetence under it.

Update: oh yeah, all of Feyre's achievements after getting title are belong to fighting/war. And while we see the High Lords fighting on the front lines, their main job is to govern and support society, the citizens in peacetime, not only fight villains.

[tidal-graves]

“If E/riel isn’t endgame then why would SJM write such a hot scene between them?”

Because the general audience wants Azriel smut. That is literally it. I promise it does not matter who his love interest is, casual fans just want to read his sex scenes. This is blatantly obvious across the majority of the internet— people read these books for the spicy scenes and aren’t invested in particular ships like fans doing deep-dives are. It is literally the same thing as Lucien being hyper-sexualized in the beginning of WaR to build up to his eventual book (which regardless of who you ship everyone agrees he will eventually be a MMC). Last I checked, Lucien and Feyre don’t end up together despite her using him to make Tamlin jealous or even their flirting in TaR. I’m really not trying to be dismissive of these books for their story or anything, because I personally only started reading them because my sister said they were high-action and I’m clearly invested at this point, but I am most definitely an outlier when you look at how people interact with these books and the genre in general. Even the casual fans that say they ship E/riel only really focus on “wingspan” or how he’s probably a freak in bed.

[fantaxzia]

You know what, I was so damn ready for elucien the moment he had stated that she was his mate.

I was all "Yes, time for lulu to switch sides!"

And then he didn't.

Then, when he was finally running off with Feyre and coming to the night court, I was like "Yes, now he'll finally change his attitude, make amends and work towards wooing Elain. Why else would SJM write him accompanying Feyre to the night court, where his mate is?"

I was stoked for the tension and the redemption and the healing. It was almost set up to be a romance where the human hating fae fell for the once human girl and the once human girl learned that the fae weren't monsters, that this fiery fae male was ready to do anything to win her affections, to help her heal. Etc etc....

But that didn't happen!

Imagine my surprise when it was Azriel who carried Elain into the townhouse bridal style... Azriel who took her to the gardens... Azriel who figured out that she was a seer and not going cray cray.

SJM could've easily written Elain getting sick like Nesta, running away from Az the moment they landed at the townhouse. She could've written Lucien helping her to the gardens instead. She could've made Lucien guess what was 'wrong' with her. It would've been perfect!

But she didn't.

Why?

Lucien was right there in the night court, finally with his mate. Their relationship could've started right there. Instead, SJM wrote Azriel into every scene that had Elain improving or responding positively. And in every scene that featured Lucien with Elain, she added uncomfortable feelings, doubt on both ends, and stunted conversations.

Why?

From doylist perspective, SJM had every chance to infuse the buds of a romance between Lucien and Elain. They were no longer apart, he could've very well taken residence in the night court and stayed there.

But SJM didn't write anything resembling a budding romance between them. Instead Azriel was suddenly there in every soft and gentle scene, helping Elain get clarity on what was going on with her, offering a quiet friendship and company.

I, the reader, was poised to accept the elucien romance, because yeah, there was a bond, and bonds are powerful and magical and we already had Feysand, blah blah. But SJM added this plot twist, where the bonded 'couple' actually cannot stand to be in each other's company, she deliberately wrote those super uncomfortable scenes between them, where I was actually cringing going through them.

SJM then wrote about the vision Elain was getting, featuring the firebird queen. That was the catalyst to send Lucien on a quest to find the firebird, effectively sending him away from Elain. Why would SJM deliberately write a scene that pushed them apart? The groundwork for building their relationship was already there.

But SJM steered Lucien away and sent him off continent on his own journey. Meanwhile she wrote Azriel building a relationship with Elain. Not just that, in the pivotal scene where Elain's life was in fatal danger, SJM didn't write Lucien rescuing her. She could've done it in any manner, bringing him back, having him sense the danger through the bond. Just imagine, a desperate, frantic fae male coming in hot to save his mate. That would've been perfect for the elucien romance setup.

Instead SJM wrote Azriel sensing Elain's absence in the camp. She wrote Azriel declaring, repeatedly at that, that he was getting Elain back. She wrote Nesta being scared and warning him that he'd die. She deliberately wrote him ignoring the possibility of death to rescue Elain. (Like, it's understandable that Feyre goes in to rescue her sister, but what connection does Az have to Elain? Enough to make him declare--not ask--that he was getting her back no matter what? 🤔)

SJM went and wrote Azriel rescuing Elain with Feyre, when anyone else would've been apt. She deliberately made that choice as the author.

All the events in the books were written by SJM, including the situations which prevented Lucien from being close to Elain. One can argue about why those situations arose, within the story's universe, till the cows come home. That's the watsonian perspective of looking at it, and it's not the whole picture.

Because the truth is that the author is the God of the story universe, she drives the situations and the characters and their actions. She makes the rules therein. That's doylist perspective--the author making these rules or choices. That provides us the complete picture.

SJM chose to write the situations which put more distance between Lucien and Elain. She wrote Azriel into those scenes where, as Elain's mate, Lucien would've made more sense to be present, had the bond acceptance been important to her. SJM made deliberate choices to put Azriel there, to make him interact with Elain, to build their friendship, to make Azriel rescue Elain.

That reordered the expectations in my mind; from rooting for elucien I went full on elriel. Because the auther herself steered me in that direction with her narrative choices. Every time some eluciens argue that Lucien couldn't do this or that for Elain because of some in universe impediment, I just think "Well, SJM didn't remove this obstacle for Lucien, she didn't write their interactions as romantic. Nothing was stopping her, because she controls the ACOTAR universe. She put Azriel in Elain's path instead. It's obvious why she made these choices; the answer doesn't lie within the watsonian perspective but in the doylist one. SJM doesn't want elucien to happen."

[emmafreakecreations]

Rhysand is not morally grey- He's just an asshole

Rhys stans will say, "He did all those things UTM to protect Feyre and for the greater good!" and then proceed on a lengthy explanation of his reasons.

No no no no. I understand WHY he did it, I just don't agree with his methods. And there is NEVER a good reason to SA someone.

And yes he did SA Feyre. He drugged her- couldn't get verbal consent from her- and then proceeded to touch her everywhere/ make her dance on his lap, while MAKING her wear revealing clothes. But- but he didn't touch her privates! It doesn't matter he still touched her waist and for most people I know that is in the no no square. It's still touching someone without consent, taking away people's choice about their own body is abuse. And that includes him not telling her about her pregnancy. He didn't want to stress her out! That doesn't matter, she has every right to know about what is going on with her body, knowing her options so she can make an informed decision of what she wants to do. In our world that's literally a violation of HIPAA. And if anything it's more stressful not knowing what is going on with your body. You're bringing real world standards into a fantasy world! SJM already did that by bringing her white 21st century feminism into this world and you guys are often treating Lucien and Nesta based on real world standards so I can do that too.

But Feyre forgave him, so you should too. That's her prerogative but if I was in her shoes I wouldn't. Because his long ass monologue that's TEN PAGES never once said the words "I'm sorry for doing that to you." It's only giving his reasons which to me sound like excuses, because there was definitely another way he could protect her without causing her bodily harm. He could have just left her in her cell and sent her mental images of happy things to keep her sane. He could have just communicated with her through her mind. He needed to keep a rouse up because Amarantha was suspicious! No where in the text does it mention that Amarantha wanted Feyre at those parties. For all she cared Feyre could just go die in her cell from infection and she would win. By Rhys bringing her to those parties he put more of a target on her and raised Amarantha's suspicions. And after rereading the monologue some things in Rhys's plan UTM is inconsistent.

"I decided, then and there, that I was going to fight. And I would fight dirty, and kill and torture and manipulate, but I was going to fight. If there was a shot of freeing us from Amarantha, you were it. I thought … I thought the Cauldron had been sending me these dreams to tell me that you would be the one to save us. Save my people." (pg 448 Ch 54- I have a pdf and idk if that lines up with physical prints)

cool fine. but then he proceeds to say two paragraphs later that he was mad that Tamlin didn't get Feyre out when he had the chance. This does not make sense because if Feyre leaves how tf is she supposed to save everyone. She already has a deal with Amarantha to save people and sure she might die but leaving is not going to save everyone.

"I made you dress like that so Amarantha wouldn’t suspect, and made you drink the wine so you would not remember the nightly horrors in that mountain. And that last night, when I found you two in the hall … I was jealous. I was jealous of him, and pissed off that he’d used that one shot of being unnoticed not to get you out, but to be with you.." (Ch 54 pg 448)

After rereading this I'm convinced this man didn't have much a plan and if anything initially was doing these things out of cruelty and just because he could. His plan makes no sense if you really think about it. Once he got the hots for Feyre, he back tracked. His plan to piss Tamlin off so that he killed Amarantha makes no sense, because Tamlin has already delt with this woman not respecting him saying no, disfigured his best friend, cursed him, and is now trying to kill his lover. I don't think he needs more motivation.

But he is morally grey! no he isn't. Most morally grey characters who have a love interest, at least I have encountered never bodily harm her. They have a line they will not cross- they have morals. Rhysand seems to not have a line-no morals- to me he's more amoral. Carden Greenbriar bullied his love interest and did some heinous shit, but he had a line he wouldn't cross-murder. He does not like murder. When the bullying got to a point where Jude could die, he stepped in and he saved her. Jun-pyo from boys over flowers also bullied his love interest basically because of how he was raised he has no understanding how to show love (similar to Cardan). He got the whole school bullying her just because she stood up to him. But when some students tried to sexually assault her he got pissed at them and told them he never said to do anything like that. He also has a line he won't cross, sexual assault.

to quote my good in real life friend @that-sarcastic-writer , who has endured my rants about this series. Who reads dark romance and who I have summerized this series to:

"You don't have him hurt her and SA her and then later you try to backtrack by having him cry about his love for her without truly apologizing. And that's my biggest issue with most dark romance mmcs. They actively hurt/SA the fmc but then oh she liked it and he loves her deep down. Cause it's one thing to "hurt" the fmc emotionally, like a third act breakup, and that's fine, that's human, people make mistakes and fight, but you can't convince me physically hurting or assaulting the fmc is something that can be forgiven with claims of love."

Anyways Rhysand is red flags everywhere and is not a person you should strive to date. Date more men like Lucien. If you like Rhys and are just like, "I like him, I know he's toxic." You do you but don't try to convince me he is a hero, he is only a villain to me.

[fortunatelyannoyingcrown]

I know Rhysand Stans have blinders on when it comes to their fave, but it's so weird to me, the ways in which his actions towards Feyre, which are clearly examples of textbook SA, are minimised by them.

Like some of them are genuine when they respond to people saying Rhysand SAd Feyre- "Acckchually, you know, I didn't interpret it like that.... because..because.... he didn't touch her below the waist or anything right??.And he gave her drinks to make her forget it right???....So in my opinion he didn't SA her....

......

But it's okay because we all have different interpretations of a text so......leT's aGrEe to dIsAgReE!!!! ......"

As though something like this, is a matter to have an "opinion" on....

I didnt realise a scene which was showcasing textbook SA, like touching her without consent, forcibly feeding her wine so she would black out, making her do sexual dances etc, in front of everybody, could have different "interpretations"...like when you think about it, you realise that these people are so far up Rhysand's ass, they are literally justifying the SA that's written as cannon, in the text and trying to turn it into something else...

Classic case of belittling and minimising SA crimes, that usually happens in real life too..

There were several ways SJM could have written that scene, and make it look like it is absolutely not SA, one being, I don't know, Rhysand actually not SAing her and then, them yapping about this would make more sense...

Even with the Tamlin situation they like to bring up to show how much of an "abuser" he is, it is literally written that he was trembling, shaking and had grief/pain on his face when he lost control of his powers, blowing up his study where Feyre got hurt.This is actually where multiple "interpretations" are possible(although it is obvious there can only be 1 inference from this scene which is he had a freaking panic attack after Feyre pushed his buttons a little too much).Because the scene is written that way.

Whereas there is nothing else you can interpret from Rhysand's deliberate acts of coercion and abuse as anything other than what it is.Otherwise, as I said before, SJM should have written it differentlym

So no honey, we cannot just "agree to disagree" on a scene that is clearly showcasing SA, coercion and manipulation.There is no room for different "interpretations" here, you either accept it is SA but you still Stan the guy or you are an SA apologist.No in betweens, no room for different opinions and definitely don't use the "agree to disagree" card because you cant stand that people called him out for the sexual abuser he is and don't think, it is an ultimate act of love or protection...

He is Feyre's abuser and molester.These are facts.

[mcuamerica]

The Shadowsinger: Six

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. More angst, ACOTAR series spoilers. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader, a little bit of Cassian x Reader

Summary: You go to Rita's with the IC and try to make Az jealous.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters or plot lines, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

Series Masterlist

Prologue - One - Two - Three - Four - Five

Mor picked out a dark violet shirt that cut low to your chest and tight to your waist, with black pants that flare at the bottom. You paired with sensible black boots because you refused to wear the heels she offered.

Still, you had to admit that Mor had exquisite taste when it came to clothing. And you looked good.

You let half your hair down, soft curls falling from whatever Mor put in your hair earlier, and the other half was braided back.

If Azriel didn’t talk to you after tonight, you would be okay with not speaking with him either. No matter the almost constant tug to gain his attention when he was around you. Or your shadows whispering “Go to Him” every single time he was in the House.

You didn’t want to go to him. He didn’t want anything to do with you. So you would go out with your friends, and Azriel, tonight and then settle on what to do about your internal feelings after that. After you got very very drunk. Especially if you would have to deal with hateful Illyrians for the next two weeks. The only one you liked being Cassian, who was probably the complete opposite of hateful. He would probably be preoccupied with said hateful Illyrians.

Since you didn’t want to risk your outfit or hair getting ruined by the wind, you flew Mor up past the wards of the House and let her winnow you both to Rita’s. You could hear the music playing as you waited for the rest of them to get here. Mor tugged you inside before they arrived.

“Cassian mentioned what you said about Azriel to him.” She said as she made her way over to a booth in the corner.

“You should know, he often doesn’t warm up to those he doesn’t know… even more so than before.” She said. “So if he doesn’t speak to you, that might be why.”

“You know, it doesn’t bother me.” It definitely did. “And I couldn’t care less if he warms up to me or not.” You could. You could care a LOT less. “I’d just like some basic decency.” That was true.

“Just give him more of a chance. And you’ll see…” she trailed off before noticing the rest of her family entering through the doors.

“You don’t even have drinks yet?” Cassian grumbled and made his way over to the bar, pulling Azriel with him to get the table drinks.

“I’d say we’re evenly fit this evening. Three males and three females. Who gets to dance with Amren?” Mor joked as the two winged males came back with drinks.

“You’d all be lucky to dance with me.” She said and took the one cup that wasn’t made of glass. You could smell the blood from the other side of the table. Rhys mentioned that the owner tended to have Amren’s favorite ‘meal’ most times that they came.

Averting your eyes, you took a glass from Cassian and looked towards where some of the other patrons were dancing. “Do no other Illyrians live here?” You asked and turned towards the table. “We’re the only three with wings.” I said.

“It’s still a secret to everyone, even the Illyrians. They all think we live in the palace in Hewn City.” Rhys said. “And the Court of Nightmares doesn’t care where we go when we aren’t in the palace.” He said and smiled a bit.

“Right, I suppose that makes sense.” You said and sipped on your drink, smiling when the table erupted in conversation. Eventually, Mor pulled you up to dance and you laughed. You weren’t much of a dancer, and you certainly knew that you looked ridiculous. But you were here to have fun tonight. So, wings tucked in, and shadows swirling around you as you swayed, that’s what you did. Mor and you made your way further into the crowd, finding your own companions to dance with. Cassian eventually joined in and stole both of you away to dance, and also gave you more drinks.

All the while, Azriel was sulking in the booth, watching the two females he couldn’t express his feelings to have a good time. With his brother. Rhys got up and grabbed Azriel by the elbow. “You don’t get to brood. Come on, we’re all having fun tonight. Even Amren’s dancing.” He said and pulled Azriel out of the booth.

“I’m not brooding,” Azriel mumbled, his eyes drifting over to you as you danced beside Cassian. “I’m just not in the mood to dance.” He said.

“Because you’ve got an itch that you refuse to scratch?” Rhys teased and nudged him towards the dance floor. “Talk to her. Or someone. Just don’t bring our mood down… if you don’t say something soon, she might go home with someone else.” He said before he waved a hand, joined the others, and grabbed Mor’s hand to twirl her around.

Cassian slung his arm around your shoulders and leaned down. “You want to make the other Shadowsinger jealous?” He murmured in your ear. You turned towards him. If anyone outside the Inner Circle would look at you, they’d think you were together.

“What do you have in mind?” You asked and trailed your fingers slowly up his arm, resting it on his shoulder.

“Hmm… can I trust you to follow my lead?” He asked and glanced over to the band, nodding his head. Like they knew exactly what he was planning.

“I suppose…” You said with a small smirk.

And just like that, Cassian had his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to his chest. He had a good few inches on you, just a few short of a foot. The way his hands roamed your body made you second guessing if he was actually trying to make Azriel jealous, or was just trying to seduce you. You liked Cassian, but he was much more of a big brother type than anything else.

Still, you swayed your body to the music, hands going over his biceps, shoulders, and up to his hair. You made sure you kept on a sultry smirk, and looked him dead in the eyes. It was a mischievous look to him, but to anyone else it would look like lust. To the other Shadowsinger, hopefully.

And you kept at it, messing with each other all night as you downed drink after drink. Eventually, you leaned against Cassian, more because you couldn’t exactly stand upright than because you were trying to be close to him.

You’d gotten so caught up in your scheme you didn’t see Azriel storm off about an hour earlier. He most certainly did not have a good time tonight watching you practically mount his brother. The one that every woman he liked chose over him. 

Of course, you also didn’t notice he was gone. While you stumbled your way up the town home walkway into the home itself with Cass, Rhys, and Mor, it was the latter who brought up the brooding male.

“Where’s Az?” She said and looked over her shoulder.

“Left a while ago.” Rhys merely drawled as he stumbled in the house, then winnowed up to his own bedroom.

“Of course.” You mumbled as Cassian let you go so you could crash on the couch. “I don’t think our plan worked.” You said, taking a glass of water that appeared on the table.

“Plan? You two weren’t trying to grope each other all night because you wanted in the other’s pants?” Mor asked, slumping against the chair.

“No. Azriel doesn’t want to talk to me so I wanted to show him what he was missing.” You said, leaning your head back on the arm of the couch. 

“I think we did too good of a job… Az might get a little jealous, but I should’ve remembered that when it comes to me… it tends to dig deeper.” Cassian said and looked at Mor.

“If he’s here in the morning, I’m going to say something. I think. I might have a horrible headache and not get out of bed till noon… also… where is my bed? I haven’t slept here.” You said and sat up, the living room spinning for a few moments.

“Come on,” Cassian said and stood up, holding out his arm for you to take. You stood up, bracing yourself with his arm as you did. You let out a giggle when he picked you up over his shoulder.

“Cass!” You squealed.

“You can’t walk, you can barely stand.” He said, swaying himself as he made his way up the stairs.

“If you drop me, I’ll gut you.” You said and let him carry you up the stairs, your head still spinning.

“If you vomit on me, I’ll gut you.” He teased back. You looked up and could see Mor trailing behind you, laughing as you exchanged retorts.

It wasn’t every day that someone new was accepted into their group. But here you were, bantering with Cassian as if you’d been a part of their family for years. She knew that you’d been a support for Rhys when he was Under the Mountain, so maybe you had been a part of the family longer than she had thought. They just didn’t know it until now.

And Mor liked you. She could also sense Azriel’s shift from longing after her to you. It was odd. Not having to have Cassian act as a buffer between her and Az because she couldn’t muster courage to tell him the truth. To let him down. But now maybe this would change that. Maybe she could finally tell them.

Unless Azriel didn’t move, unless he kept avoiding you. She would have to talk to him. See what was going on in that shadowy mind of his. Ask why he’s been ignoring you when you seemed so right for him. If the shadows didn’t swirl around you, if you didn’t disappear in the dark just as Azriel did, she wouldn’t think you were a Shadowsinger. After the first week of you being brought here, you were bright. You had such a new view on things, wanting to learn more about what you’d been sheltered from your whole life. Every time you came from training with Cassian, your smile was bigger. And Mor admired it. She knew you’d been through so much, much more than Mor felt like she’s been through herself, but you were still so happy to have this new life. If you weren’t, Mor couldn’t tell.

It was for that reason that Mor thought you were perfect for Azriel. You were strong, and everything that’s been thrown at you has only made you stronger. Azriel needed that. He’s gotten through so much, from his childhood to the Illyrian training to the war. But he sulks in his shadows, where you shine in them. Mor knew he needed someone who could pull him out and make him see that there was more to this life than just pain and suffering. You could give that to them.

Maybe you would really talk to him tomorrow before you left for Windhaven. Or maybe you’d start ignoring him and bound the two of you to years of pining without actually doing anything. Mor hoped that wasn’t the case. She didn’t want to see Azriel go further into the shadows and avoid the female he cares about again. And she didn’t want that for you either. You both deserved to be happy. Hopefully together. 

The next morning you woke up, your mouth laden with dryness and your head pounding. You had to go to Windhaven this afternoon. If it was even still the morning. You turned in your bed, groaning at the light. Your shadows immediately covered the open window when you flicked your hand towards it. Being a hungover Shadowsinger had its perks. 

How did you even get into this bed? You were in the town home, which surprised you since you’d never spent a night here. You’d barely had dinner here yet. And when did you change into a nightgown? You never wore nightgowns. 

“You got that from me,” you heard from the door, groaning as light poured in. You went to move your shadows but stopped when you saw Mor. “I gave you the nightgown last night. You changed rather quickly before passing out on the bed. You still had your boots on.” She said and smiled. “Come on, we’ve got a tonic that’ll make you feel better in an hour. You need food too.” She said and new clothes appeared on the dresser. 

“Ten minutes. Azriel’s downstairs, so prepare yourself for that.” She said before turning and shutting the door. 

You sighed and rolled out of your bed, drinking the water that appeared at your night stand. You stretched out your wings as well as your body, and then went into the bathing room to freshen up. Once you had changed and put your hair in a loose braid, you padded down the stairs. The shadows and lightness of your feet covering you when you entered the room. Azriel’s eyes were on you immediately, though no one else seemed to notice your presence yet. 

“Have a fun night with the commander?” He snapped and heat rose to your neck. Who did he think he was to ask about your night? He was the one who left and didn’t do anything about it! 

Deciding to push your anger (and pettiness) aside, you gave him a sly smirk. “I had a fun night with my friends. Not that you came close enough to experience it.” You said, sliding into a chair next to Rhys. 

Azriel looked at you for a few moments before you heard a near whisper of a growl from his throat. 

“Play nice,” Rhys warned, looking over to Azriel. 

You took the tonic that appeared in front of you so you could get rid of the pounding in your head. Your shadows might have been swirling around your eyes just to keep the sun from hitting you too brightly. 

“When do we leave for Windhaven?” You asked after downing the tonic, then dug into the breakfast in front of you. Everyone was at the table today. You realized this was the first morning you’d spent at the town home. And you liked it. 

“At noon. And we’ll work on your training once we’re there. It’ll be good for the females to see you do well. And for the males to understand that females can do good as well.” Cassian answered. 

You hummed and listened to the rest of them fall into conversation. You glanced over to Rhys and frowned, seeing his eyes glow with what looked like agony. You lowered your shields enough to speak to him. 

“I know you’re listening. What’s wrong?” You asked mind to mind, keeping your eyes on your food. You felt him glance over to you for a moment before his eyes went to where he was looking before. 

“Something’s come up in the Spring Court. Something is wrong with Feyre.” He answered and you hid your frown as you took a sip of water. 

“Wrong? She’s gone through hell and she’s a newly anointed High Fae. Is she okay? Hurt?” You tried to calm him, but your shadows whispered to you that he was worried. You never understood how they could tell a person's emotions. Sometimes they couldn’t, but if it was strong enough, you supposed they could sense it. 

“Hurting. And Tamlin is letting her waste away.” He trailed off and then cleared his throat before joining in on the conversation in front of him. 

If you had the abilities that Azriel had, you would send your shadows to check on her. Tell them to report back to see if she was okay. But they couldn’t go as far as the Spring Court. They couldn’t even go as far as Illyria. 

Of course, under Amarantha, you winnowed anywhere you needed to. The villagers or enemies knew you well enough by the shadows to determine who you were. And what you needed to know. 

You were never very good at getting information out of the villagers, but a lot of them were so afraid of the stories that spread of you they gave it up immediately. You hated that you were so feared that they didn’t even try to lie to you. Like you had Rhy’s ability to destroy their minds. Your shadows could only tell you so much… and when they didn’t tell you enough, Amarantha made you torture them. That’s where the stories came from. That’s what most of your nightmares were rooted in too. 

So you could only hope that one day, Azriel would teach you how to use your shadows properly. Maybe you could learn how to use them for good. And not for spying. Not for torture. For helping people. 

For so many years, they were used to help you survive with loneliness. And then to help you and your family survive Amarantha… But now both of those things were drifting away and you were afraid that your shadows soon would too. They would leave you because you no longer needed them. Or at least, that’s what you were afraid of. They were a comfort you didn’t think you ever wanted to let go of. You hoped that you never had to. All the books you found about Shadowsinger, none of them helped you understand your powers more. That’s why you wanted to talk to Azriel. Wanted to train with him. He had a grip on them much more than you did. 

Soon enough your headache was gone and you were in your leathers, a large coat over back covered the top. It was from Mor, who said you would need it. Even if the early winter was still mild in Velaris, it was going to be worse in Illyria. 

You knew that, of course, but you took the coat anyway. You knew it would be helpful. You grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, protesting when Rhys took it and put it in that pocket between realms. 

“I can take my own stuff.” You said and nudged him. He gave you a sly smile and shrugged. 

“You don’t have to. Plus, you’ll be visiting Lord Devlon first. You don’t need the bag with you.” He said simply. 

“Is Azriel going to grace us with his presence at all while we are in Windhaven?” You asked, looking at Rhys. 

Rhys gave you something reminiscent of a sad smile, if he didn’t have a scheming glint in his violet eyes. “Maybe, but probably not.” He said. “I do have him doing his spying. He’s been in Velaris for 50 years. He’s got a few things needing to be reestablished.” He said. 

You hummed and spotted Cassian standing at the door talking to Mor. “You really trust me enough to go there?” You asked. “And be an emissary? What if I’m horrible?” You asked. 

“There is no doubt in my mind that you are capable of handing every male in that camp their asses.” Rhys winked. “And you’re a Shadowsinger. Devlon might even be upset that I didn’t send you right to him to train… but you won’t be training there. Not unless you want to.” He said. 

You snorted. “Gods no… I’m going to be miserable enough training there when I’m with Cass… without him, I don’t know what I’d do.” You said and spotted at the bottom of the stairs, looking at Rhys. “Thanks for believing in me.” You said. 

“Thank you for believing in me. Not many people will understand your allegiance with me.” He said. 

“Damn them, then,” You said. “You’re the only High Lord I know that truly did everything he could to help his people. And I don’t know what they were like before the war, but the news ones… they are nothing like you, Rhysand.” You said and rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. “They’ll never even reach the level of respect I have for you.” You said and smiled before stepping back. 

“Alright, Cass, let’s get going before I change my mind.” You said and held out your hand for Mor to take. You weren’t entirely sure where Windhaven was, so Mor would winnow you there first. 

“See you in two weeks, my Lord.” You teased and shot Rhys a wink before Mor winnowed you and Cassian to Windhaven.

A/N: I like this chapter a lot, other than Az being stupid and not saying anything. But alas, we need the angst...

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[nikethestatue]

It was obvious. Always.

You know, with every new book, the fandom is abuzz with speculations, up to its eyeballs with theories, and I think it's great, because it's very satisfying to watch something you guessed correctly come to pass.

But, for me--and I love canon and I love being able to support my claims with words from the books--nothing still beats one small, fleeting moment in an interview. One sentence. Five words.

I. Thought. It. Was. Obvious.

The confused face of SJM, when she was asked 'who is the next book about'. 'I thought it was obvious?" she answered. This interview took place shortly after the release of ACOSF.

In her mind, when things were fresh and new, she felt that she had placed enough hints and enough scenes and enough foreshadowing to lead us, the readers, to an 'obvious' conclusion. And the ONLY obvious conclusion is Elain and Azriel. Elucien could never be called 'obvious', especially not after ACOSF and Lucien "I am not always here to see my mate' Vanserra. Just as obvious, is that Gwynriel was...not obvious at all. :)

It has been obvious since then. Azriel's reactions to any threat towards Elain. Shadows coiled like snakes, ready to strike.

Do you want children?

It doesn't matter what I want.

It's like he's given up. After 500 years, he's given up (Mor).

What about Mor?

What if the Cauldron was wrong?

What happened to Elain?

You'd know, Cass. If she were dead, you'd know.

The secret that Azriel had and that Nesta understood.

The sadness. The avoidance. The torment. The anger.

The offer and permission (which, frankly, are just cherries on top, and aren't even needed to confirm the obvious).

It's always been obvious. If you wanted to see it. And no, SJM did 'not change her mind'. She had peppered the book with hints and said 'I thought it was obvious' maybe a month after the release.

There's never really been anything to debate.

The moment Feyre asked 'Why not make them mates?" you had to have known that Elucien is not going to go anywhere.

The moment Azriel uttered 'I am getting her back' you had to have known that he was going after his woman.

The moment he offered her Truth Teller, wrapped her hand over the hilt and sent her off, you had to have known that they power shared.

The moment Mor found a small box in the pile of gifts and Elain said 'oh, it's from me' you had to have known that she also had feelings for Azriel by then.

Crumb after crumb. Drip after drip. All the moments that made up Elriel and its foreshadowing over the course of four books.

There is no Gwynriel. There is no Elucien. There is only Elriel.

I thought it was obvious.

[lovemyromance]

What is this logic that Elriels only want Azriel smut???

Newsflash - if we wanted Azriel smut we would've shipped Moriel & Gwynriel. Why would we be so vocal about ELAIN if we only wanted Azriel???

Elriels are of the opinion that Elain is great and wonderful and Azriel is ... there. He's just Shadow Ken to Sunshine Barbie 😭😭 Like yes we adore him but he is always second to Elain in our eyes.

If SJM came out and said their book is gonna be no smut at all - that would make me MORE inclined to read it. Smash.

If Azriel & Elain only stared longingly at each other and yearned from afar and grazed pinkies for the entire book - that would be fine with me. Sign me up. Smash.

But this is an adult romantasy series. The chances of smut are almost a given - regardless of the couple. Y'all are gonna get smut with Azriel no matter what, especially with the way SJM can't even mention his name without mentioning his wingspan (super large btw idk if you've heard) and his beautiful face. Also - since when was wanting smut a crime????

If Elriels only cared about smut - we wouldn't be so passionate about ELAIN. The entire ship was built on her wants, her desires. It's not ABOUT Azriel - it never has been.

Yall just saying anything now

Also the nerve of GAs to say that we want Azriel smut so we can self insert when they're out here churning out Azriel x Reader fics by the hour like - 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ the GA and "Azriel x Reader" writers Venn diagram is a circle

[elainsgirl]

no cause im actually getting annoyed.

gwyn this. gwyn that. like please shut up. we barely know anything about this girl and you're talking about her being an auntie? her saving the world? not to mention they always block out emerie which is very weird.

Hey anon 🫶

Lmfao, you’re feelings are so valid & relatable.

The only reason Gwyn Berdara has become so huge is the fact she is used as a self-insert LI for Azriel. That is the root of her mainstream popularity. And its sad how much of her character has become interwined with Azriels when this poor girl has shown 0 romantic interest in him. She’s being thust into a “love triangle” when she hasn’t even shown any interest in the guy- it just goes to show how her “stans” love her for the fact she can replace Elain.

Gwyn was your standard side character. We got her backstory like with Emerie. Both helped Nesta in her journey, both had focus on them - the difference being Gwyn had magic and Emerie doesn’t. but why has Emerie been so overshadowed by Gwyn? Bcs Gwyn is linked to a man. Sad isn’t it. and thats just the ugly truth.

this isn’t me saying the *only* reason Gwyn is so liked is due to her being Azriel’s theorised mate. People loved her strength, bravery, vulnerability, the openness in which she accepted Nesta etc etc. She would have had the same level of popularity as other side characters,

Yet she’s quite literally shoved down everyones’ throats all because she is shipped with Azriel. Its come to the fact - this whole gwynriel propaganda has overshadowed the point and focus of the story - which has always been the archeron sisters.

Gwyn will wield Gwydion. She will help with the prison - not Elain who is literally is linked with life and regrowth, who has used TT right - nope. Its Gwyn. Gwyn will become Rhysands bestie, Gwyn will be the new IC member, Gwyn will help Nesta rule etc etc. And its all so sadly funny,

All this just bcs they:

. Dont like elriel, Elain and the direction the series is going in.

before anyone says im bitter, im not. Its to be expected bcs Gwyn Berdara is perfect. She has no flaws. She has a general, popular fun, quirky “we can do this guys!” “Go us!”, personality. Yet still a blank slate for her “stans” to place any characteristic, theory or HC on her that they like. She has some interactions with the cool, mysterious Azriel and thats all you need for gwynriel. Thats all you need for G to become centre staged. It would have happened with any other fc that wouldve interacted with Azriel.

Whilst it is annoying and the meaning of the series has truly been lost to that side of the fandom, I think frustration comes from downplaying Elains role & giving it to Gwyn. Unfortunately, there’s nothing to be done. Popularity in the end will never matter. Sjm loves writing about polarising, flawed characters which Elain is and Gwyn isn’t. Clearly, Gwyn was never meant to be play a big role otherwise Mass - an author who loves foreshadowing- would have been introduced in person earlier. Its nice to remember: Elain was the focus of two bonuses. Elain has her book confirmed. Mass said SF left hints for Elains story. Not gwyn. Not Azriel. But Elain Archeron. At least the love for her is more genuine then I’ve seen from some Gwyn stans.