florenceivy

[florenceivy]

Chasing Starlight: Chapter 22

Pairing: Poly!Feysand x female!Reader

A/N: This does end at a slightly different spot than I'd anticipated, but the chapter was getting a little long. Happy Valentine's Day. There's smut in this chapter, but it's brief.

That night, sleep comes in waves. When the tide of dreaming gives way to the burning desire driven by the mating bond, I wake between my mates, often with their warm, hungry mouths on my bare skin while their sure, skilled hands roam my body. The same powerful need driving their exploration urges my body to open for them again and again and again, to give and give until I’m little more than a trembling, mewling mess between them.

When I finally claw my way back to consciousness, blinking blearily in the early morning light, I’m cradled against Rhysand’s chest in that heated, oversized pool overlooking the snow-capped mountains. My skin feels clean in a way it hasn’t all night, scrubbed with a soap that smells like fresh milk and sweet honey. The scent of jasmine drifts in on the cool breeze that rustles the curtains tied back against the moonstone pillars, displaying the beautiful, remote landscape surrounding the mountaintop palace.

“I don’t know how we’re supposed to leave,” I mumble hazily against his warm, damp skin as he strokes my wet hair. An amused hum rumbles in his chest as his hands continue to stroke and soothe my skin, a noise that might be soothing if it didn’t end in a low, primal growl reminding me of the beast beneath my mate’s skin. Not too long ago, on one of the many nights I’d been too sick and sore to move from bed, Feyre told me a few stories of the war. Of the things they’d seen and done, of what the High Lords were capable of becoming should the need arise. It had been thrilling to hear about, but I had not brushed against that side of Rhysand before and couldn’t possibly imagine something so vicious and wild emerging from my handsome mate.

After last night, I can no longer doubt there’s something more beneath the refined veneer he presents to the world. Even now, with the beast sated, I can hear it calling to something nestled deep within me, a siren song attempting to lure it to the surface. I ignore the wild, desperate urge within my soul that occasionally rattles against the refined civility that has ruled my life like a beast gnawing at the bars of its cage. The last time I gave into that unsettled, desperate yearning, I wound up in the Night Court. Moving again is an impossibility, my urge to wander is something I will need to tame if I’m to finally stay put.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Rhys murmurs, trailing his fingers along my shoulder and arm in lazy spirals reminiscent of his own tattoos, pulling me back to our conversation. “We can have Nyx brought to us, if you’d prefer.”

“This is no place for a babe, Rhys.” I murmur, taking in the cold opulence of our room. “It’s too…austere.”

“I’ll have you know, High Lords raised families here for centuries.”

“That must be why you’re all so stuffy.”

“Stuffy,” he scoffs, raising my hand to his lips and his eyes meet my own, shining with a wicked sort of mischief that makes me want to pinch him. They’re so full of stars today they’re almost the same dusky twilight shade as Nyx’s, and I rest my palm against his jaw so I can guide his lips to meet my own. It doesn’t take much to ease him into a warm, slow kiss that leaves me more than a little breathless by the time he pulls away. “And how stuffy do you find me now, love?”

“Mhh, well, maybe a little- no!” Quick, clever fingers dance against my ribs until I’m laughing and pushing against his chest in a weak attempt to break free. Steam spirals around us as he settles a little lower in the pool, his head resting on a fluffy, rolled towel positioned at the edge of the tub while I rest with my head resting against his chest, listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart. The room is painted in the rosy haze of dawn as pale, golden light spills across the floor.

When Rhys finally does speak again, his words are filled with a warmth so tender my entire chest aches in response.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, guilt tinging his question as he smooths back my hair. My heart pounds against my ribcage at the caress, a reckless, wild thing. “Last night was intense, I worry that it was too much. That this week will be too much.”

“I'm well enough, Rhys. I swear it.”

“You don't seem well.”

“I feel incredible. Tired, perhaps, but remarkably well, all things considered. How do you feel? Aren't males supposed to be reduced to mindless, rutting beasts once the mating bond is accepted? You seem very in control.”

“The desire to keep you comfortable and safe seems to be channeling that need in other ways. I doubt it will be abated for long. Long enough, perhaps.”

“Long enough for what?”

He rolls those magnificent eyes then and I watch twilight fade to darkest midnight in the span of a blink. “We have a guest.”

The words roll from his tongue on the edge of a growl. I can feel him at the edge of our bond- rather, feel the beast prowling beneath his skin. It has a thirst for flesh that will be sated, one way or another. I don’t know that he should be presented to anyone this way or, really, that the three of us have any business being in public with the mating bond consummation so fresh.

“A guest?” I squeak, flailing in his arms until I've righted myself, intending to put enough space between us to breathe. Rhys doesn't allow me to go any further. Those powerful arms lock around my waist as he stands in the tub, lifting me effortlessly until I have no choice but to wrap my legs around his hips for ease of movement, if nothing else.

Not that I'm complaining. Every brush of his body against the most delicate part of me stokes the embers of a fire that never truly banked. There’s possession in the way he holds me, his fingers biting into my flesh as he carries me from the tub. We make it no further than one of the columns before my back is pressed against the cold, glittering stone and his lips are slanted against mine, taking what he needs with a low, desperate growl. I tangle my fingers in his dark, silky hair and fight to breathe as my hips roll against his with a will all their own. I can feel the faintest sparks within my body, not quite an ember catching ablaze but more, something sharper that dances along my tongue and raises the hair on my body as tendrils of dark magic wind around my limbs to help hold me in place.

Call and response. When he slides into me, I loose a dark, desperate moan and nip at his lips, hungry for more, more, more-

“Wicked female,” Rhys purrs, resting his forehead against mine as he drives into me. A night-touched caress trails along my breasts, cold and sharp enough to urge my nipples to stiff peaks with the slightest touch. His body is impossibly hot against mine but even this contact isn’t enough. I need more. “See what you do to me? What you’ve reduced me to? Little more than a rutting beast, isn’t that what you said?”

“It isn’t enough,” I hiss, digging my nails into the back of his neck.

“It isn’t enough,” he groans, “it will never be enough. I will never have enough of you, my dove. My heart. How did I not feel the absence of you before?”

I whine, clawing at him as if that will somehow bring him closer. I need him over me, need his body covering mine as he claims me again and again and again-

‘You’re both making it impossible to entertain our guest,’ Feyre says lazily down the bond, her words laced with equal parts amusement and frustration. I melt at the brush of her against my mind as she slides in like warm, sweet sunshine, viewing the scene from behind my fluttering lashes.

‘Get rid of him and join us,’ Rhys urges as he slides his hand between us to capture my clit between his fingers in a move that has me seeing stars.

‘You know I can’t.’ Even in my mind, her words are no more than a remorseful murmur. I arch against the pillar as he squeezes and strokes, my hands squeezing his shoulders as Feyre does something at the periphery of my mind that pushes the pleasure further somehow. I might actually die of this. My heart pounds against the bars of my ribcage as I gasp and moan, their names falling from my tongue like a confession. She slips from my mind as I climax, flowing like molten gold down the bond, and a few heartbeats later Rhys follows after me with a vicious growl rumbling in his chest. ‘You’ll both need another bath.’

‘No time, Feyre darling.’

‘If you come out here smelling of sex, Rhysand, I’m going to crawl out of my skin. It’s cruel enough that I had to come buy you some time.’

‘Are you feeling deprived, my love?’ he purrs as he nips along my jaw, pulling my weight into his arms once more. I wind my arms around his neck, pressing my body flush against his as he carries me to the bed. ‘Have we left you feeling neglected? Come here, I can rectify-’

‘You will put clothes on and come speak to this male, so I can go send the servants home and hold our son. Then you’re both going to come home and make it up to me.’

‘I do love when you give me direction.’

‘Surely a male your age could use a little rest.’ I can’t help but laugh at her response, throwing my head back in what I can only describe as a full-bodied cackle as Rhys sets me on the side of the bed. The fine layer of sweat dries on my skin with little more than a snap from him, the gesture completed half a second before he pinches the back of my thigh. His eyes are sparkling when they meet mine, the darkness chased from them in exchange for soft, gleaming starlight that only grows brighter when he kisses the tip of my nose.

“Your knees have been making an awful noise these days,” I add, sprawling onto my side as I watch him dress. Feyre’s laughter sounds in my head light a high, tinkling bell, dripping with joy and light that warms the soul of me. I should feel worse, I know I should, but truly I’ve never felt more alive than I do now.

‘He won’t admit it, but they’ve always made that noise.’

“Is this what the rest of my life is to be?” Rhys chuckles as he pulls out a dress that looks like a rainy, misty morning given form. “The two of you teasing me relentlessly for the next five hundred or so years?”

“Far longer than that, if you play your cards right,” I mumble, taking in the gown he holds before me. It's one of the loveliest things I've ever seen. Am I supposed to wear it?

The neckline is a low, slashing vee, much lower than I’m used to, trimmed with polished grey gems. A particularly large brooch hides the front closure, and I stand to allow Rhys to help me into it. The fabric is light and the dark silk feels like butter as it glides along my skin. The sleeves flutter in the breeze as he fastens the silk cuffs at my wrists, and the layers of the full skirt flow around my legs as fluid as water, occasionally parting to bare my legs in a way that might have left me feeling too revealed in any other setting.

But here, in a palace like this one the morning after our mating is complete? It feels appropriate to wear something so elegant. I can only hope I look half as pretty as I feel.

‘You did say you wanted it,’ Feyre murmurs with a hushed reverence to her voice that sends a shiver down my spine. ‘It’s a little late to take it back now. Look what you get in return, though. Isn’t she lovely?’

“Stunning,” he agrees, his eyes tracing the flush that paints my skin as I step into the matching slippers. “The loveliest Lady of Night our court has ever seen, I imagine.”

“Is that to be my title?” I ask, my eyebrows drawing together as I look up at him. I hadn’t thought I’d get one. Truth be told, I hadn’t even wanted one.

“We thought you might resent High Lady,” he says, taking my hands in his.

“One is more than enough for any court to be getting on with, don’t you think? But I thought, well…I had hoped…”

‘Hoped what?’ Feyre asks and I shrug, turning my gaze to the beautiful mountain range stretching beyond the confines of the palace.

“That perhaps, one day, I might be your wife,” I admit, my voice smaller than I’d intended. Perhaps it’s a silly wish, but it’s one I hadn’t realized I was harboring until it tumbled from my lips. “It’s all I really wanted. To be yours, to have a family. A real family.”

‘You are. And you will be, the very first moment we can summon a priestess to witness our vows if you’d like. I thought perhaps we might present you with a ring first and have adjustments made to our own bands, but those things aren’t necessary.’

“A ring?” I ask, gaping up at Rhys for confirmation. He nods, a troubled frown playing on his lips as he looks down at me.

“Certainly,” he says, pulling me into his arms like he can’t quite tolerate the distance. “Did you think we wouldn’t give you one?”

“It was all rather sudden. I didn’t think you’d had time yet to consider it.”

“Of course we have.”

It hits me then, how accustomed I was to being little more than an afterthought. A footnote in the lives of others more often than not, I had not considered that my mates might see fit to give me a ring. To formally acknowledge me as a wife, as a member of their family even though they’d said I was last night. I rest my forehead against Rhys’s chest and breathe in the scent of him, letting it seep into everywhere that aches until breathing grows easier. With my walls down, I know they feel every bit of the apprehension seeping from me, but I can’t find it in me to be ashamed of it. I hadn’t anticipated being loved or wanted enough to warrant true commitment even though I’d been promised one.

‘Come here now so I can kiss you,’ Feyre says as Rhys runs his fingers through my untamed hair. ‘Or I swear I’ll leave Eris to his own devices.’

“Eris?” I mumble, stepping out of Rhys’s arms as I cross my own over my chest to ward off the cold that seems to have seized me, my wild hair forgotten. I had expected to speak to him yesterday, I had wanted it then, but now everything feels so much more delicate. I feel much more delicate. “He’s here?”

“He is,” Rhys answers, and I feel his hand brush against my arm as I turn away, heading towards the door. I don’t know where I’m going, I haven’t seen enough of this palace to have a sense of direction within its walls, but I can feel the pull of history in my very bones drawing me down the corridor. The answers I so desperately need are waiting for me somewhere in this labyrinth of corridors, I only need to find the right one.

It doesn’t take long for Rhys to catch up, though he’s silent at my side as a hand on my back gently directs me the correct way to go. I’m grateful he doesn’t speak, doesn’t try to ask how I’m feeling or what I’m thinking. Frankly, I’m not certain what I’d say if he did. Instead, I wring my hands in front of me as a nervous buzz begins to fill my body, the energy a low hum in the back of my mind. There’s an ache beginning behind my eyes, a reminder that I’ve neglected to take the morning tonic to suppress my symptoms. I’d been feeling so good this morning, I hadn’t even spared it a thought…no matter, I’ll take it when we’re done.

When we finally wander down the correct winding hallway, Feyre is gently closing a heavy, arched door behind her. She’s lovely, dressed in black trousers with a matching jacket and a beautiful, slinky top with lace embroidery, her hair pulled back into a high, tight bun that almost makes her look as severe as Nesta. I can’t decide if she’s dressed for business or battle, I suppose they can be the same thing. Distantly, I can feel the pull of my body responding to her, but the sensation is muffled. Overridden, I suspect, by my overwhelming need for the answers on the other side of the door.

“He said it was the only time he'd have for a few weeks,” she says to Rhys as her hand slides over my waist. When her eyes glaze, I can tell Rhys has slipped into her mind and I loose a heavy sigh, briefly allowing my forehead to rest against her shoulder. For a moment, I lose myself in her scent, sweet, honeyed pear and fresh lilac tempered by powdery, musky soap. She smells clean and delicious and, in a perfect world, I would have spent the next several weeks with the taste of her on my tongue. In a perfect world, I wouldn't need to go through that door and face the male that helped murder my family.

The same male who had loved my mother.

I don't know how to reconcile them.

I don't know if I can.

“Do you want me to stay?” Feyre whispers, pressing a kiss to the side of my head. “We can go home together after-”

“No,” I answer, raising my head to look into the wintry blue eyes I love so well. “Go see Nyx, he needs you. I will be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am. Rhys will be here, I won't be alone. We’ll be home to properly apologize before you know it.” My voice is more certain than I feel, but I force a smile and press my lips to hers before she can ask again. I don't think I can refuse her if she asks again. The taste of her flows over my tongue like sweet wine, and I drink from her like I'll die if I don't.

There's a kernel of truth in the notion. My body sings to be near her, to feel her warm and pliant in my hands. I need her like water.

“It feels wrong to leave you,” she admits, sighing as my lips glide along her jawbone and down the pale column of her neck. I can feel the hunger consuming her end of our bond, drawn out by the slow slide of my hands from her waist to her hips. Rhys presses closer, the hard length of his body trapping me between them in a move that is rapidly becoming my favorite. I glance up in time to watch him capture her lips in a kiss that does nothing to dampen the flames of desire licking up my spine. His hands cover my own and I tighten my grip on her as he tugs her closer still, pressing her body against mine in a way that makes me yearn for more.

“We’ll be alright,” I breathe against her neck, pressing a kiss to the fluttering hollow of her throat. “Home before you know it.”

“I’ll take care of her,” Rhys says lowly as his lips brush against her high, sharp cheekbone. “I will take care of everything.”

A sigh escapes her kiss-swollen lips and she nods, accepting his promise while I suppress a sigh of my own. It’s a flaw of his, this need to take care of people. To move mountains to keep the people he loves from hurting if it’s within his power to do so. Both of my mates are natural protectors, and I’m going to have to figure out how to navigate that soon. Not today, though. Today they can fuss a bit.

“Go home, darling, and kiss our babe. We’ll be there soon.”

“The moment you’re finished, Rhysand. Not a second longer.” The order is a half-snarled threat on her lips before they claim mine in a searing kiss, her hands unnaturally warm as they pull me in. I can feel the fire dancing beneath her skin as if it were my own, and I squeeze her hips until I’m certain bruises must be blooming on her pale skin for me to find later. We do, after all, have a little lost time to make up for after this morning and I intend to make the most of it.

When we finally part, I don’t have it in me to watch her walk away, so I turn to stare at the door. It’s surprisingly nondescript to stand as the barrier separating my present from my past. I feel like it should be more ornate, somehow, like it should hold more weight. Like it shouldn’t just be a door.

“Are you ready?” Rhys whispers, his hands a comforting weight on my shoulders. I shake my head, but settle my hands on the knobs anyway. This isn’t simply a want, a desire to know more of the history that was kept from me. The buzzing beneath my skin seems to intensify, the throbbing behind my eyes growing more insistent by the moment. My fingers shake when I turn the doorknobs, but I do it anyway, and the doors make no noise when they drift open.

The room is smaller than my wild imagination decided it should be. Completely walled, it has thick, cream colored drapes and plush matching rugs arranged throughout the room. The walls are lined with built-in shelves, all filled with books far older than me. At the center is a simple oval table, as easily used for strategizing as for card games, surrounded on all sides by lowbacked, upholstered seating. One of the chairs is already pushed back from the table, sitting vacant as its occupant stands staring into the fire roaring in the hearth, his hands clasped behind his back.

When Eris Vanserra turns to look at me, his amber eyes simmer with that same fire.

Though it’s been many years since I last saw the Autumn heir, he’s largely unchanged. His short, vibrant red hair falls in an elegant swoop across his forehead, a perfect compliment to his aristocratic features. The jacket he wears is dark, but not quite Night Court black. It is the black of soot left after a fire, its lapels embroidered with prickly red thistles and the thorned, twisting briars that are so common in Autumn’s forests. He stiffens as he stares down at me, and his lips begin to curl as his nostrils flare. I was not under the illusion that we would be able to hide what we are, not so soon after accepting the bond when everything still feels so new and raw, but the contempt glowing in his eyes makes me wish we’d had a little more time.

At least I can understand now why he must hate me. For all of the devotion he once showed my mother and the promises he made to her, he never owed it to me. Does he blame me for weakening her? For taking so much of her own magic as protection that it left her unable to recover? I cost her everything and now I know what I took from him, too.

“What have you done?” he asks, his voice filled with such quiet malice that I shiver and take a step back. But those eyes, those horrible eyes, aren’t fixed on me anymore. “What game are you playing, Rhysand?”

“Good morning to you as well,” Rhys says smoothly, his face a mask of cool indifference as his hand settles on my back, propelling me further into the room. “If you had been able to join us yesterday, I anticipate this conversation might have been slightly different. Better, perhaps? No matter now. Please, have a seat.”

“Not until you tell me what you,” the Autumn lord sniffs, “and your mate have done to a member of my court.”

Rhys pulls out my chair and settles me into it with a sharp, venomous grin that belies how gently he handles me. “Oh, but she’s not, is she? Not for years, since she was banished after her father’s thwarted insurrection.”

“She wasn’t formally banished,” is his stiff reply, those fiery eyes shifting back to me. “You weren’t formally banished.”

“It certainly seemed I was,” I murmur, folding my hands in my lap in an attempt to appear regal. “The threat, at least, of joining my brothers and father on the pyre was implied, if not stated outright.”

“Oh, no.” Eris’s dark, humorless chuckle is chilling. Rhys settles into a chair at my side, gazing over the tips of his steepled fingers at the Autumn lord standing before us. “No, what would have happened to you if my father got his hands on you would have been far, far worse than that.”

“Worse than what you’d already done to her?” There’s a soft thunder rolling in my mate’s voice. I reach for him before I can stop myself, lightly resting my fingers on his arm. When he looks at me, there’s a lethal, sleepy glaze to his midnight eyes and it strikes me then, how dangerous this situation is. Dragging any freshly mated male to a meeting with high tempers is always bound to be a disaster. But one as powerful as mine could reduce this room to rubble with half a thought. “Or did you think you’d never have to answer for it, Eris?”

“Rhysand,” I murmur, leaning closer as my fingers trail up towards his wrist.

“What I’ve done,” Eris says flatly, bracing his hands against the back of the chair. “My choices kept her safe, kept her alive-”

“Not anymore,” he snaps, turning his eyes back to the male before. “Which is what I’ve invited you here to discuss. I’ll ask you one final time, Eris, to take a seat. Let’s have a conversation about what you’ve done to my mate and what we can do to fix it.”

[florenceivy]

Untouchable VIII - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister!Reader

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court’s spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he’d eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on—with Elain, your brother’s mate’s sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that—more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst angst angst

a/n: Hey guys! Sorry I took so long to update this story. I got major writer's block for it :(( This chapter is short but I wanted to get something out to you guys. We're almost at the end though! One more part after this and then an epilogue <3 Thank you guys for all the kind words/support! I don't have a lot of free time so I'm shit at replying to your comments/asks but I promise I read them all and they make me so happy! Hope you enjoy!

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V ➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part VIII

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You stumbled backwards, away from the evil sorcerer who was hovering above the lake. You frantically looked at Cedric. “Please, Cedric, what is this?”

He didn’t even look your way. You kept stumbling back until you knocked into the hard chest of one of the guards. He grabbed you by the upper arms, locking you in place despite your attempts to wiggle free.

“I brought you the girl,” Cedric said to Koschei. “Now it’s time to uphold your part of the deal.”

You twisted to look up at the guard. “Deal? What deal is he talking about?”

But the guard ignored you too. 

Koschei waved a dismissive hand at Cedric, his eyes still lingering on you as if you were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. "Yes, yes. You will have my support to overthrow your father."

"I need more than just your word," Cedric grumbled. "I'm not handing over the girl until you make a bargain with me." 

Koschei laughed under his breath. "You wish to make a bargain with me?" 

While the sorcerer's attention was elsewhere, you realized this might be your one and only chance to break free. 

You threw your cuffed arms up around the head of the guard holding you in place and bucked forward as hard as you could, effectively tossing him over you and onto the muddy ground. A move Azriel had taught you once. 

You ignored the shouts and yells as you darted off towards the wooded area that surrounded the lake. You couldn't winnow away, not while the faebane handcuffs were still on you. But maybe you could run and hide, buying yourself some time to think of an actual plan to escape. 

You darted into the trees, forcing yourself to run as fast as you could. The air was cold, making it hard to breathe but you pushed yourself forward. You could hear the pounding of feet running behind you. You chanced a glance over your shoulder to see the three guards chasing you but no Cedric or Koschei. 

One of the guards winnowed into the clearing in front of you, causing you to scream as you ran straight into him, knocking both of you on the ground. You rolled off him before he could grab you and winnow you away, pushing yourself to your feet. The guard snarled, getting off the ground faster than you considering his hands were free. 

"Don't you run," he growled at you. 

You took a step back. Another.

Rhysand! Help!

You screamed and screamed for your brother in your head, even though you knew he wouldn't be able to hear you from this distance. You were fucked. 

"My brother will come for you if you don't let me go," you hissed at the guards, keeping out of their reach. They were circling you like they were predators who had just found dinner. 

One of the guards scoffed. "With Koschei on our side, your brother won't be able to do anything to us."

"Koschei is offering his support to Cedric to kill the King," you shouted back. "Not to help Vallahan fight against the Night Court and its allies once my brother has realized what you've done!" 

That seemed to make the guards pause for a second, the three of them exchanging glances as if now just realizing how stupid the Prince's plan was. Mor knew you were going to visit Cedric. That's where they'd look for you first once they didn't hear from you. And you knew your brother would rain hellfire down on the Prince's territory to get you back. 

Suddenly a loud noise cracked in the air like two boulders smashing against each other, causing the ground to rumble. You fell, your legs collapsing, as three people winnowed into the clearing. You let out a cry of relief. Your brother stood in his fighting leathers, looking ready to murder with Cassian by his side. But it was Azriel who made you falter.

You had never seen him look as angry as he did now—it almost spiked fear in you despite knowing none of it was directed in your way. He looked feral, unhinged. 

The three guards around you were misted by your brother before you could even blink. Their blood rained down on you, still slightly warm. You gagged, rolling over and trying to push yourself to your feet.

“Y/N!”

You heard your brother shout but his warning came too late. 

You felt someone grab you by your hair, lifting you off the floor. You let out a cry of pain, your cuffed hands rising to grab the attacker by their wrist to get some of the pressure off your scalp. You were turned forward to face your brother and the two Illyrians just as the cold metal of a dagger was placed against your throat.

“Don’t move,” Cedric ordered and you realized it was him who had you in his grasp. 

“Get your hands off of her,” Azriel growled. It was dark and full of primal rage. You knew Cedric felt it by the way his body shuddered in response but he held his ground. 

“I don’t think so, shadowsinger,” Cedric hissed.

Azriel’s shadows poised around him like venomous snakes ready to attack. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your nerves on fire. But still, the pain of seeing Azriel fought its way through despite the dire circumstances. The image of him and Elain together was enough to almost fold you into Cedric’s embrace. 

Perhaps death would be a mercy compared to the anguish building in your chest. 

You focused on your brother instead. His violet eyes were hardened with rage, his entire body tense. “Let my sister go, you bastard, and I’ll consider making your death swift and painless.”

Cedric chuckled, his hand in your hair tightening causing you to whimper at the sharp pain. Azriel took a step forward at the noise but came to a halt, his eyes drifting to the area above your head. 

You felt it then, that dark presence. The foreboding. You knew Koshcei was in the clearing now. Could feel his horrid magic in the air. This was a powerful death god sorcerer and despite your brother being the most powerful High Lord, he was no match with a God. None of them would be. 

“Kill them,” Cedric demanded as he too realized Koschei was here.

But the death god did no such thing. Instead, you felt his darkness wrap around you, encompassing you into its hold. You let out a cry of fear, calling out for your brother. 

“The girl belongs to me now,” Koschei said. “Leave and never return or I will do more than just keep her as a little pet.”

“Why do you want her?” Rhysand switched into his diplomatic role, realizing a fight would not be won here today. “Whatever you need her for, I’m certain I can do it all the same. Better, even.” 

He was…He was offering himself over to the sorcerer in place of you?

“No, Rhys,” you cried out. “Just go!”

But you were ignored. 

“Unfortunately,” Koschei drawled. “I do not have a taste for males otherwise I would take you up on your offer. But your sister will do just fine. There is nothing you can give me for her. I don’t think you even realized what a prize she was—what sort of power she holds.” 

“Anything,” Rhys begged. “Please, I will give you anything. You want my armies, you can have them. You want my court, take it! Just give her back. Please.”  

You couldn’t believe the words coming from his mouth. Rhys would never give up his power, would never give away his court and his people. But here he was, offering up all he had for you. You had caused this. You had made the mistake of running away to Cedric. This was all your fault.

“Get him out of here!” you shouted to Cassian and Azriel. 

All you could think about was your brother’s lovesick bargain with Feyre, of his death leading to hers, of Nyx left with no parents. No…Rhys needed to get out of here before things got worse. You tried to convey your thoughts to the other two Illyrians with a single look. Cassian gave you a dip of the head in understanding, evidently having the same thoughts.

Azriel wouldn’t look at you, his rage filled eyes focused on the sorcerer that held you. 

“Anything,” Rhys pleaded again, surging forward. But Cassian gripped him by the shoulders, holding him back. “I’ll give you anything.”

Your eyes darted between the three of them. At Cassian’s look of despair and uncertainty, Rhy’s pleading face and Azriel….Azriel who was shrouded in his shadows, who circled him in a frenzy—his eyes darkened, his lips twisted in a snarl. He took another step forward. 

“Let her go,” he growled. You swore the birds in the clearing took off fluttering, as if they knew the sort of darkness that was coming. But Koschei let out a small noise of understanding before he chuckled—an awful noise. 

“What an interesting turn of events,” Koschei purred, his grip on you tightening. 

“Kill them,” Cedric hissed, slight panic in his eyes. If Koschei left him behind, you knew your brother would tear him to pieces. 

Koschei chuckled again, as if realizing the same thing. In the end, he would get what he wanted without having to follow through on his half of the bargain, not if Cedric was dead. 

“Say goodbye to your brother,” Koschei laughed in your ear. “And your lover and friend. You’ll never see them again.” 

“I’m sorry, Rhys,” you cried. “I’m so, so sorry.” 

Rhys fell to his knees, Cassian still holding him back with his lips pressed in a thin line. You felt Koschei’s shadows wrapping you up, spreading up your legs. Time was running out. Azriel stepped closer with another growl.

“I will kill you for this,” he promised, his eyes shifting from Cedric to the sorcerer. “Let her go!”

Your voice caught in your throat. All the words you wished to say to him with it. You loved him, still, even after knowing these past few months had all been a lie. Your heart was broken, stomped on, discarded by the only one you had ever given it to—but you loved him. You always would. 

He finally looked at you, his hazel eyes so full of rage but you saw it then, the fear. 

“Take me,” Azriel shouted. “Take me instead!”

Koschei laughed again. “Oh, but it is much more fun this way, shadowsinger.” 

His shadows spread over your torso, up your neck, nearly choking you. Tears ran down your face; you were gasping for air. You took one more look at Azriel. One more look at the male you loved with all your heart. One last look because you knew you’d never see him again.

Azriel met your gaze—fear and anguish written all over his face. And just as the shadows began to darken your vision, something snapped into place. Something gold and bright. A thread that extended from your chest and speared right into the shadowsinger. A mating bond. 

Azriel’s grip his chest, his eyes wide, as he stumbled back a step. You watched him realize it at the same time as you. Something burned on your hip and you realized you were feeling Azriel’s bargain tattoo dissipating. He screamed your name as Koschei laughed one more time, swallowing you in his shadows.

Azriel’s pained roar shook the trees of the forest around them and echoed all the way to the small cabin on the lake, where you were thrown to the hard flooring, still shackled and trembling. 

Koschei stood over you, his face a painted picture of glee and lust. He tsked, circling around your weeping form. Your thoughts were filled with Azriel. With your mate. You could feel his horror, his rage, his anguish, all through the bond. 

“Did you know,” Koschei purred, “that Cedric and his family are quite exceptional at illusions? The magic runs in their family.”

You were crying, panting—barely able to hear his words. 

“No, I suppose you didn’t,” Koschei laughed. “Those images of you walking in on your mate with that little fawn were never real, my dear. You fell for Cedric’s tricks and now you’re here. You’ll never see your mate again.”

Those images of you walking in on your mate with that little fawn were never real, my dear.

You hunched over, falling limp against the floor as sobs racked your body. You had lost everything, everything, tricked by that stupid Prince. You couldn’t breath, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything except the crushing weight of your despair.

 And all you could hear were those final words. 

Over and over and over again.

You’ll never see your mate again.

You’ll never see your mate again.

You’ll never see your mate again.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Tag List:

@kalulakunundrum @going-through-shit @thelov3lybookworm @tinystarfishgalaxy @cat-or-kitten @abysshaven @vhjlucky13 @polli05927 @nightcourtwritings @wicked-mind @mommyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @nightless @a-frog-with-a-laptop @woodland-mist @tothestarsandwhateverend @lizziesfirstwife @e-dollly @hyemishii @pricklepearbloom

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @bookishbroadwaybish @pinkangelskies @naturakaashi @sofietargaryen @minakay @alexboshallex @amysangel @i-am-infinite @furiousbooklover @glitterypirateduck @valencia-rou @pinkcowracing @marvelpotter @kennedy-brooke @stupidwingboy @foreverrandomwritings @marvelouslovely-barnes @persephonesong @furiousbooklover @dxjaaaa @kristeristerin @naturakaashi @starlightshowdown @torchbearerkyle @emme-looou @wiseheartzombie @moonlwghts @f4iry-bell @imnotsiriusyouare @val-writesstuff @saltedcoffeescotch @toxic-nathyyy @feiwelinchen @bookslut420 @awkwardnerd @mis-lil-red @exhaustedpotat0

@wallacewillow0773638 @elle4404 @bubybubsters @planetwaynez @kemillyfreitas @furiousbooklover @naturakaashi @marina468 @justbattlecriesdear @pyrostatic @running-writing@esposadomd @aria-chikage @rachelnicolee @daeneeryss @inkedaztec @callsign-magnolia @elle4404 @mell-bell @unstablefemme @running-writing @lostinpages13 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @blessthepizzaman @jenniferpendragon @minnieoo @crazylokonugget @mybestfriendmademe @brandywineeeee @aunicornmademedoit @clara-geekhime @acourtofbatboydreams

(if you don't see your name and you asked to be on the taglist, I probably couldn't tag you for some reason)

[florenceivy]

So I saw a post on Tumblr that read:

“Imagine getting fucked from behind in a broom closet of the house of wind by Rhysand, his fingers in your mouth and his breath against your ear whispering “quiet down pet, you don’t want Feyre to catch us huh?”

And I am so desperate for a fic inspired by this. 👀

I love Feysand so, so much, but the thought of this did something to me.

I love your work so I immediately came to you. If you write it, thank you!!! If not, thank you anyway bc I love all of your work!! Ok byeeeee

.......alright you got me....

Extramarital Escapes

Warnings - smut, affair, slightly dub/con, abuse of power on Rhysand's end

A/n - I don't normally enjoy the idea of an affair and cheating, but I turned this into something I can work with.

This was wrong.

So very wrong.

You gasped as Rhys hit that spot inside of you again, growling as you clenched around him.

This was not what you had in mind when he hired you to be their live-in nanny. It had started innocent enough. Rhys would seek out your company when Feyre would head into Velaris. There were short glances, a soft touch to reach around you at times. Those touches slowly became longer, though. They lingered on your waist, the sides of your thighs, your arms. You had thought you were imagining it until Feyre's first trip out of the Court with Nyx.

"Have a drink with me?" He had stopped you from sorting the heir's clothing, tilting your head up to look at him. "They say you aren't supposed to drink alone, Darling."

You had agreed, following him to the cigar room you knew even Feyre never entered. It was his sanctuary. His place to be alone. She had her studio. He had this.

That one drink turned into him getting closer to you on the couch, cornering you between him and it. He tipped the wine back further as you took a sip, trying to get you to relax with this dangerous look in his eyes.

You were pinned below him an hour later, drunk and begging him to fuck you harder, to let you cum. All while he smiled above you, eyes blown out in lust, saying over and over again that you felt exactly like he imagined.

You had told him the next morning it was a one-time thing, that it would never happen again, regardless of if you wanted it to happen. The High Lord simply smirked, undressing you with his eyes all over again. "We will see."

He cornered and took you anytime he wanted after that.

On his desk after Feyre would fall asleep.

On the table when she was out of the house and Nyx was down for a nap.

In your room during the dead of night when he decided his wife wouldn't satisfy his need to feel complete control and power over someone.

You had told him this morning that you were done. If he continued to touch you after this, you would tell Azriel, Cassian, or Feyre, believing one of them would protect you from him.

You loved Nyx and he was why you had put up with being Rhysand's whore for so long, but you needed it to end. You needed the guilt to stop eating you alive at night. You knew you were worth more, are worth more.

Rhysand had again smiled. "You love your job, don't you, y/n?" You nodded, eyes watering. "And in your contract, it is stated your job is to ensure the happiness of my family, correct?" You nodding again. "Then I suppose if you are not willing to fulfill that obligation, I should find a new nanny."

He knew he had you as you took a shaky breath, tears rolling down your face at the idea of never seeing his son again. "I'd hate to take him away from you. He loves you so much, and it is so very clear you love him."

"Rhys, please," you felt him pull you to him, slotting you between his legs as he sat on his desk. "I just can't keep being a mated males whore."

His face softened, hand moving to hold your chin. "You are not my whore. You are my escape. If you do not want that, if you do not want to be loved by me, then we have so few options."

You looked up and away from him. "I just want to take care of Nyx. Like I was hired to do."

"Then you do so on my conditions."

That was how you found yourself, chest pressed against the wall in an unused broom closet. The High Lord pounding you from behind, his fingers down your waiting throat to silence your cries.

You felt your eyes roll back, moaning loudly as you sucked those digits. His other hand was on your clit, circling the bundle of nerves in time with each heavy drag of his cock. "Shush," he growled in your ear. "Gotta be quiet, darling. You wouldn't want Feyre to catch us, would you?" He nipped your pointed ear, causing your walls to twitch around him. "Acting like you don't love my cock inside of you this morning, but now here we are. Sure, it feels like you love it when I'm inside of you. Don't you?"

You could only nod, eyes squeezing shut and moaning more as his hips met the plush skin of your ass over and over, driving into you again and again.

You could feel your orgasm building waiting for him to give the command to let go, and suddenly, he stopped. Pulling out of you and slapping your aching cunt. "This is your punishment for trying to end things with me," he whispered into your ear. "If you're a good girl the rest of the day, maybe I will let you cum tonight when she goes to Rita's with the girls."

He left you there, wet and aching for him in that broomcloset. You sunk down the wall, head falling to your knees.

A few hours later, you had finally gotten Nyx down for the night. You sighed, heading to Rhysand's office to let him know the heir was sleeping, that you would tend to him during the night since Feyre was gone, but two hushed voices had you stopping.

"You have to tell her," a feminine voice stated. "I don't want her to quit over this. Nyx loves her, Rhys."

"I know," Rhysand's voice was barely audible. "She tried today. I had to manipulate her into staying before I fucked her in the broom closet. You were supposed to catch us and join us."

You covered your mouth, hiding the gasp you made before standing silently. Feyre sighed on the other side of the door, "I got busy. Azriel had reports, and he was looking for you. I had to lie to him, Rhys. I don't want to keep lying to our family about her and what she is to us."

"Then let's replan it for next week. Since you are supposed to be out of the house. I wanted to give her the weekend off. I'm scared if I do now, she won't come back."

You walked away, having heard enough information, yet not enough all at the same time.

You could not tell if you were angry, excited, curious. You went to your room, closing and locking the door.

As you bathed, the side of you that hated games began to emerge, and you began a plan of your own. In that moment, you decided one thing, if Rhysand and Feyre wanted to play, you'd play too.

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager

Rhys tag list:

@tothestarsandwhateverend

💜 If you would like to be added to my general taglist, or a character specific one, let me know 💜

[florenceivy]

@bridgertonbabe had me cackling over her bridgerton spouse support groupchat that I couldn't stop thinking about what the bridgerton sibling chat looked like in the aftermath of game night.

(All credit to Bridgertonbabe for this chaotic mess)

----

🐝 The Children Group Chat 🐝

Violet: Alright. 

Violet: Who started it?

Anthony: Started what?

Hyacinth: What exactly is it u r referencing mother?

Violet: Oh you all know exactly what it is I am talking about. 

Violet: Who started the fight this time? 

Benedict: I did. It started. 

Violet: No. 

Violet: I know you probably fueled it once it began, but you didn’t start it. So once again I must ask.  

Violet: Who started the fight?

Eloise: Who told you we fought?

Violet: Sophie did. After I learned from Agatha that an ambulance was called for your husband.  

Eloise: He's fine Mum. He had a panic attack because Anthony wouldn’t get off his ass about the rules. 

Anthony: The rules clearly say when you land on someone's properties you have to pay them. Not my fault he couldn’t.

Eloise: He couldn’t pay u because u r a deranged asshole who puts interest on his properties like some money hungry slumlord.  

Eloise: Who puts interest rates in Monopoly? 

Francesca: It was my fault Mum. I started it.

Violet: NO

Violet: You and Benedict both hate confrontations. I know neither one of you started it. 

Violet: Who 

Violet: Started 

Violet: The fight

Violet: At Daphne’s game night?

Daphne: I would like to point out that Hyacinth is being abnormally quiet right now.

Hyacinth: Excuse me?!

Eloise: You were exceptionally vitriol with the rest of us that night. More so than usual.

Hyacinth: Mother. I feel like this would be a good time to inform you that Eloise broke a £5000 vase that night.  

Eloise: OMFG

Eloise: Et tu Brutus?

Hyacinth:

Hyacinth: throw me under the bus again I dare u

Colin: You did throw it across a room. 

Colin: At my head I should add. 

Eloise: I purposefully aimed away from your head dummy. That’s why it hit the wall. 

Colin: 

Colin: Did you?

Eloise: WELL HYACINTH BROUGHT A SWITCHBLADE. 

Hyacinth: Liar!!!!

Hyacinth: it’s a penknife. Not a switchblade. Get it right. 

Gregory: Yh Anthony still has her switchblade from when we all played Cluedo 

Colin: talk about Miss Hyacinth in the parlor with the knife. U nearly killed Benedict. And Gregory. And Simon!

Benedict: I still have the scar

Anthony: Not to mention the fire damage.

Gregory: Well the fire was Daphne’s fault.

Violet: Please do not remind me about the Cluedo incident. It gives me a migraine every time I think about the damage you all did to my house that night. 

Francesca: Isn’t even the most concerning part. Hyacinth. How did you get another knife? 

Hyacinth: It’s for protection

Francesca: That did not even remotely answer the question I asked you

Hyacinth: Gareth got it for me

Anthony: Gareth isn’t stupid enough to give you a weapon.

Hyacinth: He is after getting mugged 

Violet: 🫢 Gareth was mugged?

Hyacinth: He’s fine. He was a little shaken up but they didn’t get anything off of him. They just roughed him up a little and scared him.

Colin: Why do I have a sneaking suspicion you had some involvement in this mugging?

Hyacinth: Why would I mug my husband???

Benedict: Ulterior motives. As unreasonable as a theory that may sound. This is also you we are talking about. 

Colin: How do we know you didn’t mug him so that he would get your hands on another knife? 

Hyacinth: I plead the fifth

Anthony: Hyacinth!

Hyacinth: Again

Hyacinth: A £5000 vase was destroyed that night.

Hyacinth: And not by me.

Eloise: if anyone is at fault it’s Daphne. It was her idea. 

Daphne: Why am I at fault for trying to have a nice family get together?

Francesca: Because u should have known this is exactly what would have happened

Violet: Must I remind you all that you nearly gave Phillip a heart attack. The poor man had to spend the night there for observation. 

Benedict: And you all made Sophie cry

Eloise: Jesus Christ. She’s pregnant Benedict. Ofc she’s going to cry. She literally cried last week telling me about the tiny baby shoes she crocheted. 

Daphne: In her defense. They were adorable.  

Benedict: 😤😤😤 They are the cutest little baby shoes. I’m so excited to see my daughter wearing them. 

Benedict: But that’s not the point. You yelled at her Eloise.

Eloise: Because she wasn’t doing anything except sitting on the couch while Phillip was hyperventilating.

Benedict: Maybe because she’s SEVEN MONTHS PREGNANT AND CAN’T MOVE!

Eloise: omg Benedict get over it 

Benedict: my wife was in tears over what happened and then you and Kate both felt the need to gang up on her because she wouldn’t hand her remaining cash to you.

Eloise: She was leaving.

Benedict: BECAUSE she was the one who went with Phillip to A&E because YOU were too busy arguing with Daphne about the income tax rule.

Eloise: It was unreasonable and unnecessary for me to have to pay it because I had more money than the rest of you

Daphne: Says known socialist Eloise Bridgerton 

Eloise removed Daphne from the chat

Anthony added Daphne to the chat

Daphne: Bitch

Violet: Daphne do not call your sister a bitch

Eloise: Bitch Bitch

Violet: ELOISE!

Gregory: I think it's safe to say that Anthony’s unreasonable rules are what led to the conflict starting. We all know he’s the most competitive.

Colin: Agreed

Eloise: Agreed

Daphne: Yeah that’s true

Hyacinth: Agreed

Anthony: Because Gregory isn’t the reason we have to have them in the first place. You cheat. All the time.

Gregory: Well I learned it from you didn’t I?

Anthony: You hid all the tokens so that Lucy could pick one first.

Anthony: Then you pressured her into teaming up with you after she claimed all the good spots. Then you started extorting and threatening the rest of us. Not to mention I am genuinely concerned you do not know how interest rates work given the numbers you were giving us were completely off. And I will not even discuss your blatant disrespect for the get out jail free card. 

Anthony: What do you have to say for yourself?

Gregory: That my wife didn’t key a car

Colin: oh snap

Daphne: WHAT?!?!?

Daphne: SHE DID WHAT?!!

Colin: 🤣🤣🤣 it was Kate who did it!?

Gregory: Yh apparently Amelia caught her in 4K HD keying Simon’s car while Phillip was being loaded into the ambulance. 

Daphne: KATE WAS THE ONE WHO KEYED SIMON’S CAR?!?

Gregory sent a video.

Violet: Good lord.

Violet: Why are you all like this?

Anthony: I would like to make it clear I will neither condemn nor condone my wife’s actions. She is her own woman and will do what she wishes without my input or opinion.  

Anthony: However it wasn’t as though it was without reason. 

Francesca: Omfg Anthony

Hyacinth: Gregory how the hell do you know this??

Colin: How did you get the video?

Gregory: because MY WIFE loves me and sent me the video when she told me about it

Violet: how the hell did all eight of you inherit your father’s competitive streak?? 

Violet: EIGHT. We had eight children and you all got it. It’s not normal. 

Francesca: Mother. If I may. 

Francesca: We’ve all seen how you get watching baking shows. 

Violet: That is not the same and you know it!

Francesca: Mother. Again. 

Francesca: I say this with nothing but love and respect.

Francesca: Anthony had to restrict the Food Channel on the cable box for three years after you broke the TV. You literally are not allowed to be left alone when The Great British Bake Off is on.

Francesca: I’m quite certain the reason we are all like this is because dad’s competitiveness got mixed in with your insane stubbornness.

Violet removed Francesca from the chat.

Hyacinth: Omg Mum did you banish Francesca to the shadow realm!?!

Gregory: I had no idea she even knew how to do that

Violet removed Gregory from the chat.

Hyacinth: GREGORY NOOoooo

[florenceivy]

This bitch disagrees.

That’s a snack if I ever saw one 🤷🏻‍♀️👀

[florenceivy]

Bridgerton Masterlist

Smut indicated by (*)

Anthony Bridgerton

Series

New to the Ton - in progress (parts posted each Thursday, Whistledown 5pm, Chapter 6pm BST)

Currently on pause whilst story is finished

Miss Y/N Beresford is new to the city and unsure of the ways to act around other families. Her journey takes her from the farmlands of Lincolnshire, to the Royal Palace, to a church where she is to be wed, in a short season.

Lady Whistledown’s Society Paper dated April 5th 1819

Chapter 1: A Royal Welcome

Lady Whistledown’s Society Paper dated April 10th 1819

Chapter 2: Not Worth Waiting

Lady Whistledown’s Society Paper dated April 13th 1819

Chapter 3: Cucumber Sandwiches

Lady Whistledown’s Society Paper dated April 14th 1819

Chapter 4: A Humble Letter

Lady Whistledown’s Society Paper dated April 22nd 1819

Chapter 5: The House in Mayfair

Lady Whistledown’s Society Paper dated April 30th 1819

Chapter 6: The House in the Hills

Lady Whistledown’s Society Paper dated May 1st 1819

Chapter 7: The Bridgerton Ball

[florenceivy]

Reading the Julia Quinn Bridgerton novels is like: oh this is cute they’re pining for each other, seems like a wholesome slowburn *turns page* ok now they’re fuckin in the back of a carriage,, that was— that was a little quick

[florenceivy]

Garden of Secrets - Masterlist

Summary: Life is the flower for which love is the honey.

Tropes: Opposites attract, hidden heart of gold, sarcastic pessimist meets sunshine optimist, courtship, Regency era.

Keep reading

[florenceivy]

Too Much

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (threesome), modern AU

Summary: Anthony and Benedict take on a challenge you set them.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, dom/sub dynamics, use of pet/play names/titles (baby girl, kitten, sir), dirty talk, vaginal fingering, sex toys (vibrator), oral sex (m to f), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, brief loss of consciousness.

Word Count: 4.1k

Authors Note: this is a double request fill for @demonic-black-queen and Anon (HERE and HERE). I hope you don't mind me combining your requests into this one-shot. Im not sure about it, but I hope it fits your requests. Unbetaed. Enjoy<3

“What the…?!?”

You almost jump out of your skin and spin around to find two sets of shocked eyes trained on you. You didn’t hear anyone enter the flat with your AirPods in.

“El isn’t here,” you point out once you rally from the scare. 

You decide to push through the mortification of being found dancing through your flat in your underwear on a Saturday afternoon. They are the ones who shouldn’t be here, after all, her two oldest brothers. Both look utterly delicious in faded tees and jeans, something you are trying (but failing) not to notice.

“Yes, we know she’s away for a week; that’s why we are here,” Anthony responds, steadfastly looking at your face, but you can see a vein in his temple is pulsing. 

“We came to assemble some standing desk she’s been on about,” Benedict explains, stepping out from behind his older brother. “We are so sorry to intrude; El told us you would be out this weekend too,” he adds apologetically, but you don’t miss the momentary flicker of his gaze down your body.

“I was supposed to be,” you admit with a conciliatory nod, “change of plans, useless now ex-boyfriend,” you throw your hands up in a shrugging gesture.

“What happened?” Benedict blurts out, then appears to check himself. “Sorry, ignore that; it’s none of our business.”

You decide to shock them with part of the truth. If they are going to interrupt your alone time in your own home, you are going to have a little fun. See how they react. “Couldn’t make me orgasm enough,” you twist your lips into a coquettish pout, raising an eyebrow. “Couldn’t tame me properly enough either; I need a better dom than that.”

Benedict splutters a surprised cough and then looks thoroughly entertained.

“Not surprised. You’re a total brat,” Anthony mutters under his breath.

“What was that?” you throw back boldly, wanting to see where this could go. An illicit thrill runs down your spine as you cross your arms under your breasts, knowing it frames them so well.

“I said you’re a little brat, and you need to learn when to shut up,” Anthony states louder, more intentionally, his eyes flitting down to your cleavage. You see out of the corner of your eye Benedict’s gaze ping-ponging between you, a bemused expression on his handsome features.

“You’re not the boss of me,” you volley back every cell alive at this challenge. You’ve always had this antagonistic, dangerously flirty vibe with El’s oldest brother whenever he comes to visit. It’s like he knows without saying what buttons to press to rile you up in every sense.

Anthony advances on you with a strong gait; you inhale sharply as he pulls up inches from you, so close you can feel his body heat—looking down at you with a clipped expression.

“If I were, you’d be quiet and over my knee by now,” he opines darkly, and you ripen, feeling your body readying for him. 

Please, yes, please.

Instead, you just raise an eyebrow. “I’d like to see you try,” you goad, tossing your hair a little for good measure. 

Anthony’s face morphs into a predatory smile; you have to swallow around a lump in your throat as he leans in. “You don’t stand a chance with both of us,” he cautions.

Your breath catches, your eyes flitting past him to Benedict, whose face is still one of amusement, but something else is there too, a glint, a heat in his eye you didn’t notice before. “Are you a dom too?” you ask, attempting casual. It's not even a question you bother posing to Anthony; his nose is inches from your neck, sniffing your scent, animal-like.

“I can be when the situation calls for it,” Benedict responds assuredly, pushing off where he leans nonchalantly, “and this definitely calls for it,” he adds, licking his lip and turning to face you more squarely. 

“So what say you?” Anthony prompts, his voice like velvet, a hand hovering but not touching your hip, awaiting your permission to touch, to play. Respectful in a way that makes you want this, them, even more.

“I say…” you pause for dramatic effect, meeting Benedict’s eyes as your hand lands in Anthony’s hair, and he inhales sharply at the drag of your nails on his scalp. “Try me, Bridgerton.” 

The challenge issued is the green light Anthony needs, grabbing your hips harshly, sure to leave fingerprints. 

“Limits?” he inquires as his teeth graze your neck.

“Nothing that will scar; otherwise, let’s see what you come up with,” you return, pulse racing, being intentionally vague, wanting to see how wild they can be.

“Alright then,” he huffs, amused, “safe word?”

“Blueberry,” a soft sigh escaping your lips as he bites into you harsher.

“That’s cute,” you feel his smile against your skin.

“Exactly, just like me,” you reply precociously, and there is another chuckle—from the younger brother this time, as Benedict rounds behind you and a large hand cups your entire skull, tilting it back so you look up at him through heavy lashes.

“You’ll regret riling him up,” he warns, leaning close. “Tell me, what do you like to be called when you play like this? Hmm?” His question is sweet and considerate to ask. “Little one? Kitten? Baby girl?”

“All, any of those,” you whisper, your cupid’s bow catching his lip as you do so, Anthony’s hands sweeping down to grab your buttocks and heave you against his toned body. Benedict crowds into your back, and you feel your stomach clench as you are trapped between them.

“I like a girl who gives options,” Benedict murmurs approvingly and then he captures your lips in an almost bruising kiss, those long fingers flexing against your scalp, directing you as Anthony’s mouth slides around to your throat.

Oh, this will be excellent.

“Are you both going to get as undressed as me?” you urge as Benedict breaks the kiss.

They both laugh in response, and you feel the vibration against your front and back; it's enthralling.

“It might be best if we stay dressed for today,” Benedict answers, causing you to pout at him. “You don't think we can bring you blinding pleasure without removing our clothes?” he intuits your thoughts.

“No, I don't,” you reply honestly.

Anthony pulls you towards him, his lips ghosting yours. “Oh, then you have so much to learn about what a good dom is, baby girl. I could make you pass out and not remove an ounce of clothing.”

You gasp into his bruising kiss as Benedict's hands sweep around your sides. “He's right,” Benedict gusts into your ear, his fingers tracing the notches of your spine. “We can make you come so many times you’ll beg us to stop.”

“Yeah, right,” you goad defiantly into Anthony’s mouth, and he yanks you away by the hair at the base of your scalp.

“Challenge accepted, baby girl,” he growls. 

With a nod to Benedict, you squeal as they pick you up as if you weigh nothing and move towards your bedroom, slamming open the door open so it bangs loudly against the wall and throwing you onto your bed with a force that would usually annoy you, but right now just heightens your pleasure, a little bit of rough handling sometimes increases your arousal.

They both climb onto the bed on either side of you, bracketing your body so you can't move, twining their ankles around yours so your legs are held open while guiding your hands to your headboard.

“Hold on here, and don't let go until we say so,” Anthony orders, hot in your ear. “Now, where is your vibrator?” 

“Bedside drawer,” you stutter, nodding to the one over Benedict’s shoulder.

He twists around to find it as Anthony runs a finger across your bra. “How attached are you to this underwear?” 

“Not particularly.”

“Good,” he states firmly, “because I am in the mood to rip it off your body.” the casual way he says it makes you gasp as Benedict turns back with your vibrator in hand, placing it onto the pillow above your head for now. They both run their hands over the plane of your body, landing on your underwear. “With both of us, this little scrap doesn't stand a chance, ” he warns.

Your gaze pings between them, your arousal rocketing as they grasp the fabric between their dextrous hands; the noise of fabric ripping fills the air. They remove the scraps of material from around your body, cool air swirling your soaked flesh where they hold your legs open.

Fuck, that is hot.

“Oh, this is lovely, kitten,” Benedict rumbles as his long fingers trail through your trimmed, shaped hair patch.

It's the first time someone has complimented your pubic hair, and watch wide-eyed as a smirk crawls across his face, his hand slipping lower. You gasp as he unerringly finds your clit and brushes against it, achingly light. Anthony’s hands are busy pulling your thighs even wider apart, then spidering up your inner thigh until his, too, reaches your folds.

“Baby girl, you are soaking for us,” his voice gravelly as you moan when he slips a finger inside you. “Oh, you like that, don't you?” he adds, his smile also dangerous.

You bite your lip and nod enthusiastically, still barely believing this is how the surprise encounter has turned out. With Benedict's fingers on your clit and Anthonys inside you, you know you are in trouble already. They know precisely what they are doing; Anthony slides a second finger inside, so you feel a stretch as Benedict hooks his thumb under your clitoral hood and starts to flick against your most sensitive nub.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, your head flopping back and then their warms lips are on your body, starting at your neck and nibbling their way down your heated collarbones to the edge of your bra.

As if timed perfectly, they each push down a cup, and their tongues swirl your nipples simultaneously; you are thrown so close to orgasm it's unbelievable. Eyes shut and crying out.

“Kitten, does it truly take so little?” Benedict laughs, trailing his nose over your nipple as he expertly teases your clit.

“I have no idea what is happening, fucking hell,” your throat dry, your mind unable to compute how quickly they are hurtling you towards an edge.

“It's evident this little brat has never had a real dom tame her before,” Anthony says airily, adding a third finger into you and wringing mortifying sounds from your body.  “Holding her down and showing her just how fast she can come with…” he pauses to hook onto a spot inside that makes you squeal, “expert hands…” he adds, bemused.

“Yes, fine, okay, you win,” you exhale shakily, your pussy burning white hot, “just please, please don't stop,” you whine, your hands curled tight around the cold metal posts of your headboard. 

With a glance at each other that you know is some silent communication, Anthonys' fingers rocking deeper into you and curling into a hook on every stroke as Benedict circles your clit at an increasing pace, all as their tongues tease your nipples incessantly, their bodies holding you down and open to their wonderful ministrations. A long low curse leaves your lips as you ratchet so high it's almost dizzying.

“Yes, that's it, baby girl, give it to us,” Anthony buzzes against your breast.

“Come on, kitten,” Benedict adds, surging up to capture your lips as he senses the tugging fluttering sensation around your clit.

And then you are breaking, your mind switching off, routed in the fireworks in your body, fighting them to buck your hips against the tide ripping through your body, but they won't let you, holding your legs down and open as you orgasm helplessly under their control. Your cunt clenching Anthonys' fingers so forcefully he growls.

“Brother, you have to have your fingers inside this little cunt when it orgasms; feel the power there; it’s quite amazing,” he comments casually as you float somewhere on a cloud. “I tell you, it must be absolute heaven to have that clenching around your cock.”

“Then I suggest we swap,” Benedict volleys back, bemused.

“Wha… what do you mean?” you slur drowsily, barely back in the room from your out-of-body and mind experience, moaning gently as Anthony’s fingers slip from inside you.

“Now you will come around his fingers, baby girl,” Anthony tutors.

“But I just came?” you frown, still confused.

Benedict chuckles, his hands trailing up your patch of hair to your dewy belly. “You think once is enough, kitten? Oh no, you will keep coming until we tell you otherwise,” an undercurrent of something dark and smokey in his cadence.

“But I…” you protest weakly.

“You thought we were joking?” Anthony responds incredulously, “No baby girl, you will come over and over and over.”  

You swallow thickly as you realise they mean it, and you cry out as Anthony’s thumb slowly circles your clit, still swollen and throbbing from your orgasm.

“Oh god…” you whisper, feeling overwrought. 

“Oh yes, come on, you should be able to come again very soon,” he lectures, “maybe harder this time.”

“Look at me,” Benedict commands, and you swing your head to the side to give him your full attention, your eyes staring into his inky blank pupils as a crooked grin claims his face, and he slips a finger inside you. Your mouth makes an undignified noise as he does, still fluttering a little from your orgasm. You feel him triumphantly studying your facial reaction as he reaches even deeper than Anthony. “Aren't you delightfully tight,” he murmurs into your cheek, and you are grateful his movements are slow, precise, gently adding a second finger and rocking into you with a rhythmic push.

“That's it, baby girl,” Anthony praises, and you sway your face towards him, letting him kiss your lips and hush you with soft brushes on your clit.

“Go easy on me,” you warn, but it's met with a hollow chuckle, and suddenly, their hands start to move faster, and you look at them in turn pleadingly.

“When will you learn, baby girl?” Anthony replies, his tone flint-edged as he flicks your clit so deftly you pant. “We are in charge here; we set the rules. The minute you tell us what to do, we will do the opposite. Until you learn not to be such… a… little… brat...” he punctuates each of the last three words with a tooth grazing around your nipple, and you are clinging to the headboard for dear life, knuckles turning white as you feel yourself pushing higher and higher. 

They aren't treating you daintily, and it's precisely what you need. Your mouth hangs open; you twist to bite your own bicep as they suckle on your breasts and twine their legs higher around yours as you start to fight their hold.

“Nuh uh uh,” Anthony clucks, “don't fight us, baby girl, you know you want this, come on break again, show him what you can do,” he dares you, as Benedict's fingers feel so powerful you can't avoid what is coming. 

“Oh my little kitten, I can feel you pulsing,” Benedict nuzzles your face with his nose, driving his fingers into you forcefully as Anthony circles your clit so fast you can't breathe. 

Your eyes roll back, emitting a noise halfway between a squeal and a shout as you feel yourself breaking again. A dam inside you gives way, a gush of wetness as you convulse vice-like around Benedict's fingers, both of them making noises of triumphant surprise as your entire body tenses under their grip. Every fibre in you feels like it snaps then pings back. You scream so loud you are grateful this converted warehouse has such thick concrete walls.

“Wow… I had to use all my strength to fight to stay inside you there, kitten; my brother was right,” Benedict murmurs, but you can barely take it on board as his fingers slip from inside you. Incapable of doing anything but whimpering, your body experiences little aftershocks that make your brain akin to static.

And then Anthony is reaching over your head, and the trademark buzz of your vibrator starts up.

“Nononono,” you protest lightly, forgetting it was there, even as you know they aren't going to heed you. Your only way out of this is your safe word, which is the very last thing you want to utter. Anthony trails the vibrating tip in a long line down the middle of your body, your whiny protest being disregarded. You scream again as the strong pulse hits your overly sensitive nub.

“Oh god, I can't. I can't; it’s too much,” you wail, your head thrashing from side to side—it's the only thing you can move with them both restraining you.

“You can, and you will, kitten,” Benedict replies, his large hand on your belly, smearing your juices across your skin.

Your whole body is overstimulated; sweat slicks your body as you flush so hot again, your nipples burning from the shadow of stubble around their mouths, your cunt still clenching in waves, your clit almost painful, distended, throbbing so hard you swear it's where your heartbeat now lives.

“I can't come again. I can't.”

“Stop whining,” Anthony barks and presses the vibe firmly into you so you feel the waves all the way up into your public bone.

“Please no…” you wail, wracking breaths, fighting air into your lungs.

“That's not your safe word, baby girl,” Anthony reminds you as you curl your lips under your teeth, not wanting to say it by accident. “Hmm, that's what I thought,” he smirks before heavily running his tongue on your breast again.

You are cursing now, panting, unable to fight the tide approaching you yet again, so fast, so strong.

“Here it is,” he gloats, and his whole leg presses harshly on yours as your hips want to cant up high off the bed. 

This time it’s a wave you feel powerless to fight, so you just let it wash over you. Every cell of your being feels electric, your body tingling as you can't stop quivering.

“Please, please, please, please,” you stutter into his lips, tears forming at the corner of your eyes, appealing for mercy, but he doesn't remove the vibrator from where it rests on your white hot clit.

“Oh baby girl, do you have any idea how beautiful you are right now?” he flatters, running a hand into your hair that is no doubt sweaty and tangled. “Kiss him,” he orders, nodding to Benedict.

Drowsily, you find yourself turning to obey.

 “Good fucking girl,” Anthony hisses a compliment in your ear as Benedict's tongue invades your mouth. “It looks like you are finally behaving for your doms.”

You feel yourself slipping away slightly as Benedict breaks the kiss, falling into a space where your mind is in the backseat, willing to follow their instructions without a thought except to please them.

“Brother, I think this kitten is finally in her little submissive state,” Benedict opines, running his hand possessively on your skin, petting you like a cat.

“You are right,” Anthony concurs, and you passively smile as they look down at you.

“One more orgasm, my baby girl, then you can rest,” Anthony whispers into your cheek, and you nod blithely.

“No vibrator, please. Tongue,” you appeal meekly, twining your fingers around the metal posts you cling to.

“Oh, kitten, you want one of us to slip between your legs and suck your swollen little clit into our mouth? Bite down until you scream?” Benedict dusks in your ear, painting a debauched picture with his words.

“Please yesss,” you implore, looking at him so beseechingly.

“Whose tongue?” Anthony inquires.

“I don't mind; you are both so wonderful, sir,” you confess with a sigh, floating away.

“This was your idea,” Benedict capitulates to his elder brother. “Go ahead; I’ll hold her down and talk to her.”

Anthony nods, and you feel a crest of victory in your veins as he swings above your body and shuffles down, ploughing his tongue into your folds without preamble. He licks a strong line up to your clit, and you cry out with the slightest nudge. His strong arms wrap around your legs and pull you obscenely wide open to his ministrations; there is no way for you to battle this hold. Then Benedict is kissing you hard again, stealing your breath, the sensation of both of their tongues inside different parts of your body utterly overwhelming.

“Does that feel good, kitten?” he nudges your head to the side to whisper in your ear as Anthony feasts on your body.

“Yes sir,” your words still slurred, drunk on sensation.

“Do you promise to always be a good obedient little one for us from now on?” he queries with a smug tone.

“Yes sir,” your heart sings that they might be willing to play more with you as Anthony’s talented tongue circles your clit teasingly, making your belly tense in anticipation. 

“Should I tell you what we plan to do to you next time?” he intones as he tugs your earlobe with his teeth.

“Please, yes sir,” you appeal.

“How about we take our clothes off?” he begins, and you bite your lip, eager at the idea, moaning loudly as Anthony sucks on your clit, flicking the nub with a speared tongue. “Will you get on your knees for us?” Again, you can only nod, under their spell entirely. “Good kitten,” he praises, running a hand over your breast and pinching the tip so hard you scream. “I love how responsive you are; I cannot wait to be inside your mouth, your cunt…” the way that word drips decadently from him makes you uncurl your hand from the headboard and grab his shoulder. “Put that hand back right now, you bad kitten,” he warns gently, and you immediately obey. You go to apologise, but it comes out a scream as Anthony flicks on the vibrator and pushes it into your cunt just an inch, but it's enough to make you light-headed.

“Yes, that's it; I want you to scream as I fuck you, just like that,” Benedict growls, his breath uneven, and you notice a teeming urgency as he thrusts his hard cock caged inside his jeans against your hip.

Something about his desperation makes you crave them, saying whatever pops into your head uncensored. “I want you both to fuck me so hard, sir… at the same time.”

Benedict growls a little and bites your earlobe again. “Yes, kitten, we will do that.”

You can sense the desperation in Anthony, too, the mattress moving slightly as he pushes his pelvis into it rhythmically. His suction and heated mouth are enough, but with a flick of his finger, he turns the vibrator to the maximum, and you start swirling a black hole of consciousness, the pleasure so intense that you let out a noise that sounds inhuman to your ears.

“Yes, that’s it, my little wild kitten. Let’s hear all those gorgeous noises,” is snarled against your damp forehead.

It's the last thing you hear as your mind yells too much, too much, and a sudden, intense, almost violent tidal wave sweeps you away, overwhelming everything, the world going dark and quiet….

…. You emerge from that inky place to gentle whispers and soft hands petting your body in soothing motions. 

“Come back to us, baby girl,” Anthony coos, and it takes you a few moments to realise he has moved from between your legs and is at your side again. You also realise your hands are no longer wrapped around the spindles behind your head but resting gently on your tummy as they rub your shoulders, relieving the slight ache there.

Their voices continue with lavishing praise as you gradually return to your senses, running your tongue over your lips, your mouth feeling full of cotton wool.

“What happened?” you croak, barely audible.

“You blacked out on us, baby girl,” Anthony giggles, “just for a few seconds,” he reassures.

They draw you into a joint comforting embrace as your blissfully fuzzy mind comes back online, your body weak from shaking so much. You feel akin to a newborn animal, learnings your limbs and blinking in the light. When their faces come into focus, their expressions are adoring, their fingers tracing gentle patterns on your body.

“Welcome back, kitten; you are amazing,” Benedict smiles sweetly.

“Thank you,” you slur in reply, sated and so happy.

You fall asleep at their encouragement, pressed between their comforting bodies. And the best part? They are still there when you wake up again a few hours later.

They may actually assemble the desk for El…. eventually. Just maybe not tonight. Or tomorrow. Before she gets back. Maybe.

Anthony & Benedict taglists: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau

[florenceivy]

Garden of Secrets - Masterlist

Summary: Life is the flower for which love is the honey.

Tropes: Opposites attract, hidden heart of gold, sarcastic pessimist meets sunshine optimist, courtship, Regency era.

Keep reading

[florenceivy]

Keep Your Judgement

Chapter Eleven

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader

Summary: It’s the night before the engagement party at the Spinning Wheel, before the plan you and Aleksander have orchestrated comes into fruition. Sleep eludes you, but Aleksander is able to offer a solution for your nerves.

Warnings [18+]: smut, unprotected sex, mentions of Grisha contraception methods, fingering, Aleksander’s sweet talking is a warning in itself.

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist

There’s a muffled thud in the hallway and your unsuccessful attempts at sleep are enough motivation for you to throw your covers back and move to investigate. It’s only once you reach your door, fingers curling around the handle, that you hear the whispered laughter.

There’s a small creak as you open your door, and the whispers lower themselves as you peer out into the darkness. Soon your eyes land on your next-door room neighbour.

“Fruzsi?”

She grins a little sheepishly as she turns further towards you, allowing the low level of moonlight to fall onto the person beside her.

“Hi Vatra,” you say quietly with a smile.

She smiles back widely.

“Hi.”

People often say that inferni and tidemakers don’t get along well, but despite their opposite powers Fruzsi and Vatra have always had the same determined spark in their eyes.

“Don’t stay up too late,” you warn them teasingly. Then you add, more seriously, “We have a big day tomorrow.”

They both nod, subtly drawing themselves closer together. Their eyes meet momentarily, a conversation without words being exchanged between the two of them. Then Fruzsi looks back at you with a smirk.

“The General’s light is still on,” she remarks pointedly.

Rolling your eyes, you can’t fight the smile tugging at your lips as Vatra turns the handle of Fruzsi’s door and the two of them disappear inside.

In the sudden silence of the hallway, you consider the doorway at the end of the corridor where a thin strip of light can be seen at the bottom of the door there. Aleksander’s door.

Without much prior thought, you slip back into your room and pick up your robe. Shrugging it on over your shoulders, you re-enter the hallway, closing your door behind you before you head towards Aleksander’s room.

There’s no hesitation as you reach his door, pushing it open to reveal the man himself as he sits frowning at some papers on his desk like he usually does.

Once he sees you, Aleksander stands immediately. He says your name softly, his expression mirroring the softness in his voice as he looks at you.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks.

Shaking your head, you step closer, stopping at the edge of the rug which lies in front of his fireplace. He rounds his desk smoothly, stopping beside the fireplace.

“Not really.”

With a small sigh, he sits down in the armchair beside the crackling fire, running a hand thoroughly over his face. His dark eyes scour over your figure as his fingers trace absentmindedly over the scar on his chin.

“You look tense,” he remarks quietly.

He’s right. There’s been a tension in your body all day, your muscles aching in anticipation of tomorrow - the attack on the Spinning Wheel that you’ve been planning over the last week.

“Come sit here,” he says in a low voice, gesturing towards the spot on his lap - the same space where you have often dreamt of curling up.

As you move forwards, preparing yourself to shift into your fox form, Aleksander shakes his head.

“Not the fox, I want you.”

Halting in your step, you frown when you realise he recognises how you look when you’re about to change form - and that in this moment he just wants you.

Slowly, you tread your way over the worn-out rug beneath your feet and stand directly in front of him. As he looks up at you, he settles his hands on either side of your waist, turning you around and guiding you into sitting with your back against his chest.

As you get comfortable, he settles his chin on your shoulder and turns his face towards the crook of your neck to nuzzle his nose there. The breath halts in your chest as you attempt to process the affection he’s offering you.

Turning your head to look at him, you meet his gaze and the two of you stare at one another for a long moment. A thrill runs through you when he glances down at your lips and your stomach flips as he leans closer.

Heat prickles over your cheeks, the sensitive skin there burning at the intensity in his eyes. His forehead grazes lightly over yours and you breathe out a small sigh as your eyes flutter closed.

When the tip of his nose catches against yours unintentionally, longing claws desperately at you, prompting you into whispering,

“Aleksander?” He hums softly in acknowledgement, his eyes remaining locked steadily on yours. “Promise me this isn’t just a before-battle tumble for you.”

His brows lift slightly, and a tension enters his jaw as he traces his knuckles gently over your cheek.

“Has that happened to you before?”

The corner of your mouth twitches wryly as you look down at his lips and admit,

“Durasts stay at the Little Palace, we’re a last piece of familiarity for anyone heading out into the field.”

Aleksander leans closer, his nose brushing delicately against yours in reassurance.

“I’m far too old for meaningless tumbles,” he murmurs with a small smile.

Breathing out a soft laugh, you seize the courage to lean forwards, capturing his lips with yours. There’s a pleased little sound of surprise in the back of his throat and you smile into the kiss.

Aleksander’s hand cups the side of your face, keeping you close as he moves his mouth against yours leisurely. When he pulls away you’re breathless, gasping in air as you lean against him.

He lowers his mouth, sucking at your lower lip before he takes it lightly between his teeth. The fox buries himself down into your instincts, leaving your mind quiet while your body begs for Aleksander.

The urge to sink your teeth into his throat seizes you, making you long to worry the skin there and leave a blossoming mark, claiming him as your own.

“Aleksander,” you breathe out in a whimpering sigh. He moans lowly, bringing you back for yet another kiss.

He squeezes the top of your shoulders with both of his hands, running each of his thumbs over your collarbones.

“But why don’t we get rid of some of that awful tension, hm?” The corner of his mouth quirks and your stomach flips at the suggestive sweetness cloying his tone like honey.

“Aleksander?” you whisper, and he hums in encouragement. Embarrassment burns over your cheeks. “I haven’t… touched myself since claiming the fox. At least not properly.”

He stills slightly, tilting his head at you.

“May I ask why?”

Lowering your gaze, you look down at the creases in his dark shirt. He must have discarded his kefta somewhere before you arrived.

“The night I merged with the fox, when I returned I was just scattered pieces of a person that you managed to put back together.”

As you lift your eyes to watch his reaction to your words, his expression softens considerably under your gaze as you find the confidence to continue with your explanation.

“Every time I try to touch myself, it’s like I’ve forgotten what it’s supposed to feel like. Whenever I get close, I can’t do it, I just want you.”

“Me?”

Faintly, you nod.

There’s an unspoken agreement between yourself and the fox, and during your attempts at self-pleasure he has always left your thoughts alone. But even without his meddling your mind always drifts to Aleksander, something inside you protesting against finding your peak without him.

“Please Aleksander, I need you.”

He watches you intently, with far too much distance between the two of you for your liking.

“You’re sure?”

Nodding, you grasp the front of his shirt to urge him closer, and that is all the encouragement he needs to lean forwards and kiss you once again. Both of you sigh into the kiss, gripping tightly onto one another.

Aleksander’s hands push up the skirt of your nightdress, pushing it up to reveal your bare thighs. His fingers are cold as they trace over your flushed skin, and you shudder when he begins to play with the edge of your panties. Knuckles brushing delicately over your skin, Aleksander hums lightly in approval as you suppress the urge to squirm over his thigh.

Despite trapping your lower lip between your teeth, a keening whine escapes from your throat as he rubs firmly over the front of your panties. The sound makes you burn with embarrassment, pressing your palm to your mouth.

Aleksander curls his fingers around your wrist, guiding your hand away from your mouth.

“I want to hear you,” he murmurs against your ear, pressing a delicate kiss to your neck.

Hooking a finger into your panties, he pulls the fabric aside, pinning it to your thigh with his large hand whilst slipping another finger over the length of your dripping entrance. The barest hint of friction and you’re already moaning loudly.

Aleksander leans against you, pressing his forehead to your shoulder as he breathes out heavily.

His finger traces your cunt in a firm circle, collecting your slick as he increases the size of the circle with each rotation. Each time he gets closer and closer to your clit, a dizzying burst of pleasure warming your abdomen as he nears the small bundle of nerves.

A startled cry escapes you as he finally touches that sensitive spot, his slick-covered fingertip pressing firmly against the swollen nub.

“I know, darling. I know,” he coos, and a shiver runs down your spine at his words. “It’s a lot, isn’t it?”

His voice is soft and encouraging, not unlike the doting manner he uses when you're in fox form.

“But it’s alright, sweet girl. I’m here.”

Slumping against his body, you surrender yourself to his touch, allowing his other hand to wander over your body as the other rubs delightfully against your weeping cunt.

He tugs down the top of your nightdress, your robe already pooled by your waist. The air of Aleksander's room is cool and your skin prickles with shivers as his warm mouth presses a line of kisses along your shoulder.

Toes curling, you tighten your grip on Aleksander, unsure whether you want to scream or cry at the sensations. He mouths at your neck, murmuring praises and encouragements against your skin, accompanied by his own heavy breathing as he begins to lose himself amongst your pleasure.

“You’re safe. I’ll keep you safe, I promise,” he whispers and something inside you cries out in relief as you climax. His next words are faint over the roaring in your ears as pleasure floods through your body. “There we go, my sweet girl.”

Gasping for air, tears gather in your eyes and all you can do is cling to Aleksander. Bliss threads it’s way under your skin, lingering in your muscles and buzzing in your lungs as you catch your breath. He strokes your cheek gently and without thinking you nuzzle your face into his open palm.

His smile is fond when your eyes flutter open and you smile back. Slowly, he traces the tip of his finger over your lower lip, admiring the kiss-swollen flesh. He chuckles softly when you take his finger between your teeth in an affectionate nip before you tug playfully at his digit.

“Would you like to take this further?” he asks in a low voice.

Nodding with a small smile, you watch his expression intently.

“Would you like that?” you ask.  

Instead of answering, he takes your hand, lowering it to press your palm against the sizable bulge in his trousers.

“Oh,” you breathe out with widened eyes.

His smile widens and he leans towards your lips.

“Oh indeed.”

He kisses you hungrily, hands grasping at your body as if you might slip away from him at any moment. Aleksander stands and the two of you stumble backwards towards his bed without separating from each other.

Somewhere along the way you tug down Aleksander’s shirt and he tosses your nightdress aside. Fabric hits the floor and soon his trousers and underwear have been discarded too.

When you collapse against his bed, naked body jolting with the impact, Aleksander follows you with his mouth, kissing his way up towards your lips. His teeth graze lightly over your breasts, and you whine as you writhe beneath him before he settles between your thighs.

There’s little time for you to admire his body as he hooks his hands underneath your knees and spreads you open for him.

His eyes remain locked on your face, watching for any sign of discomfort as he eases his way into your cunt. He moans as you gasp out his name, whispering it over and over as he presses his cock deeper inside you.

He entwines your fingers with his, locking your hands together as he rocks his hips forwards experimentally, pressing your body further into the mattress.

When he hears you moan after the motion he repeats it, settling into a steady rhythm that has you digging your nails into the space between each of his knuckles.

The old rickety headboard of his bed creaks, occasionally thudding against the wall to the beat of Aleksander’s thrusts, but neither of you care enough to restrain your vigour.

With your hands pinned under his, all you can do is keep your legs spread widely, hooking one of them over his waist as he changes his angle to take you deeper.  

Dropping his forehead down against yours, Aleksander groans quietly, a tension in his jaw as he hits a spot inside you that has your toes curling with pleasure.

Aleksander grits his teeth.

“I would usually last much longer than this,” he admits, his breathing ragged and for a moment you remember that this is the man who has been taking tonics daily to maintain his health. “But with the merzost… and Saints… you feel incredible.”

Rocking your hips against his, you clench hard around his cock and begin to kiss along his throat and chest.

“It’s okay,” you whisper hoarsely. “I’m close too.”

“Where would you like me to finish?”

As your eyes flutter closed, you admit quietly,

“I know where Vladim keeps the contraceptive tonics.”

The rhythm of his hips jolts shakily and he slows as if to gain better control of himself.

“Inside?” he rasps. There’s a sharp glimmer of desire in his eyes.

“Please.”

He groans lowly. Releasing one of your hands, he splays his palm over your stomach, rolling his hips determinedly against yours.

“Here? You want me to spill inside your warm little cunt?”

Inhaling sharply, you nod before begging shakily,

“Please Aleksander.”

He reaches down towards your clit, rubbing the little nub as he continues to thrust inside you. Overwhelmed by sensation, you grasp onto his bicep with your free hand, digging your nails into his flesh before dragging them down his arm.

Aleksander gasps, squeezing his eyes shut as he reaches his peak and mere seconds later you climax. Through your own whimpered cries, you hear Aleksander groaning at the sensation of your cunt clenching rapidly around his leaking cock.

He slumps over you, a comforting weight against your body as your chests heave simultaneously in a desperate symphony.

Aleksander kisses you a few times, mouth moving lazily against yours as the two of you soak up your highs.

Once he slides his cock out, he rolls onto his side before collapsing at your side with his back against the mattress.

As you turn to look at him, you see his eyes fluttering closed. There’s a looseness to his limbs that you haven’t seen before, and although he still looks as tired as he always does satisfaction curls at the corner of his lips.

Gently, you thread your hand through his hair, playing with the dark strands, and he makes a small hum of pleasure as he smiles. His eyes remain closed and you’re almost totally certain that he could fall asleep like this.

But there’s a stickiness between your thighs that is becoming unpleasant, and you know he would be uncomfortable waking up with the dried remains of the mess currently on his thighs and stomach.

With that in mind, you stand on shaking legs and move towards the bathroom. Aleksander’s eyes snap open the moment you begin to step away from him. The weight of his gaze on your naked form is heavy as you fill a jug of water and retrieve a cloth from the bathroom cabinet.

When you return to his side you smile softly and begin to clean the two of you up. Aleksander’s attempts to help only earn him a gentle swat on the hand as you scoldingly insist on taking care of him.

There’s an intimate symmetry between this moment and the night you merged with the fox. That night, Aleksander had wiped the blood from your hands and face, bringing you back to yourself with patience and a gentle touch. He knows and understands you better than anyone else ever has.

Settling down at Aleksander’s side, you contemplate something as he drapes his arm over your waist and tucks the covers over you both.

“If I tell you something crazy, do you promise you won’t ask me to leave?”

Curiosity enters his eyes, and he tilts his head aside as he murmurs softly,

“I promise.”

Silence lingers for a moment. Then you speak.

“The fox thinks we’re mates. You and me.”

Aleksander brushes his knuckles gently over your cheek, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead before he tucks you against his chest. He rests his chin on the top of your head as he whispers,

“I don’t think that’s crazy.”

»»---------------------►

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»»---------------------►

[florenceivy]

Title: Don’t wake me just yet

Summary: Harry, feeling broken and betrayed, sides with the Dark Lord after the events of the Department of Mysteries and the death of his godfather, leading to troubled times in Britain. Hermione partners with the House of Black and travels back in time to July of 1976, to defeat Lord Voldemort during the First Wizarding War and prevent the one of the darkest families in Wizarding Britain from dying out, in order to save her childhood friend and the wizarding world at large.

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Sirius Black

Tags: Time Travel, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter), Slytherin Hermione Granger, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, First Wizarding War (Harry Potter), Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Misguided Albus Dumbledore, Sexual Content (Eventually), Other Additional Tags to be Added.

Read on AO3

Chapter One Excerpt:

“Good luck,” Bill said as he squeezed her shoulder before taking a step back to stand next to Andromeda.

Hermione gave the two of them a curt nod of her head as she checked to make certain that her wand was holstered on her forearm and the long, thin chain of the time turner was secure around her neck.

“T–Thank you,” Hermione said, struggling to find the right words. “For everything.”

Bill grinned at her, his scars pulled tight on his face. His eyes were pained, sad. “Don’t thank us just yet, Hermione. We aren’t even certain this will work. It’s just that–”

“It’s our only hope, our only option,” Hermione murmured, “for Harry.”

“For everyone,” Andromeda corrected as she peered around the drawing room of Grimmauld Place. “Remember what we went over?”

Nodding, Hermione repeated what she, Bill, Narcissa and Andromeda had gone over the last few weeks. “In order to save Harry, in order to save the wizarding world, we must save the House of Black.”

Andromeda frowned as she began to recall a specific time, decades earlier. “On the night of the fifteenth of July, 1976, Sirius was tortured by Walburga and Orion. He was facing almost certain death when he fled Grimmauld Place. Euphemia and Fleamont Potter brought him to St. Mungo’s after he’d arrived on their doorstep.” She paused for a moment. “I was working the front desk at St. Mungo’s that night. I saw him arrive via emergency floo-travel. It was bad, Hermione. The healers couldn’t even touch him until the effects of the Cruciatus Curse wore off. You need to prevent that from happening. That was the start of the end of my House.”

Hermione gave the older witch a sad smile. “And nothing can prevent that better than having a Muggle-born appear in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place, hollering at the top of her lungs about the destruction and eventual extinction of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.”

“It’ll certainly get their attention, if nothing else. We know that there’s no way they’d listen to you unless they’re forced to,” Bill muttered dryly as he checked the time on his watch before grabbing his wand. “You need to go now, Hermione. Me and Andy need to leave. At any moment, Harry’ll know we’re here if he doesn’t already. We can’t risk it any longer.”

Hermione gave him a curt nod and fiddled with the time turner in her hands. “Be safe. Be strong. Be good.”

“Always.”

Hermione double-checked that the device was set to the appropriate date, exactly twenty-one years earlier. Her eyes met both Bill’s and Andromeda’s once again. “Goodbye.”

[florenceivy]

I have a massive fear that no one actually likes me, rather everyone is just politely tolerating me hoping I leave them alone

[florenceivy]

[florenceivy]

[florenceivy]

HUH??????? WILL???????

[florenceivy]

art + lemony snicket

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