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zoyaofthegardvn · 1 year
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The Queen's Maidservant
Manon Blackbeak x reader
CW: Smut! 18+ pleaseee
In which Manon requests for you, a maidservant, to assist her during a bath :)
You stand hesitant outside of your Queen's bathing chamber, head lowered, hand ready to knock. Asterin, the Second in Command to the Witch Queen, had fetched you from where you had been working in the kitchens. The girls you had been working with, laughing with, all giggled and mocked you with cries of "Ooooo's" when they'd heard that the Queen had specifically requested that you be at her service this evening.
They guessed that you were in some sort of trouble. The Queen rarely calls on servants and maids, being too independent, too private to desire any assistance. Instead, you and most of the servants were free to roam the castle, the lands, as you pleased, so long as some work got done.
When Manon Blackbeak had been crowned the Witch Queen, everyone had been nervous, at first. But she'd made the Witchlands a place to thrive, and be happy. That didn't mean that Manon was any less terrifying, though.
You had swatted at your girl friends with a wet rag, giving them a stern look for antagonizing you in front of the Second in Command, who you surely thought would deem the lot of you as immature. But Asterin just huffed a laugh, then left, knowing you were going to listen.
As you made your way to the Queen's wing of the castle, you racked your brain, wondering what you possibly could have done wrong. You had served the Queen before, many times, actually, more than anyone else. Bringing her food, mending the saddle she used for her mount, Abraxos. Sometimes, the Queen would send you to deliver a letter to another part of the castle. Or, she'd send you to find a book for her in the library. Once, she even had you choose what poor, unlucky man was going to be her meal for the evening.
She wasn't unkind to you. Impatient, curt, bossy, yes. But never unkind. You had certainly done more tasks for her than any of the other maidservants. You wondered if you had somehow, unknowingly, broken the sliver of trust the Queen seemed to have in you.
When you arrived at the door to her bedroom, you had knocked softly with a call of "My Queen?" When you didn't receive a response, you had gently pushed open the door that had been cracked open. She wasn't anywhere to be seen, until you noticed the soft light from underneath the door to the bathing room.
Your stomach tightened at that, thinking, surely she does not intend for me to assist her in the bath? There must have been a mistake, perhaps she needed me later this evening and Asterin had misheard.
And so now, here you are, at the door to where you know the Queen awaits you. You struggle with wanting to serve the Queen, and with wanting to respect her privacy. With curiosity about what she wants from you, and fear that you have done something to offend her.
Taking a deep breath in, you finally decide to knock. Just as you pull your hand back, prepared to lower it on the door, you hear a voice call out, "I know you're out there, Y/N. Do come in."
Your heart is hammering now. Of course she knew you had been standing outside the door, she'd probably caught your scent when you were halfway down the hallway.
Clearing your throat, you grasp the doorknob, twisting and pushing in. You briefly spot Manon's head resting on the back edge of her huge, clawfoot tub. Her eyes appeared to be closed, and you could see faint steam radiating from the tub before you dropped your head, lowered your gaze.
"M-My Queen, how may I assist you this evening?" You internally scolded yourself for stammering, not wanting to know how awkward you feel, being in the same room as the bathing Queen.
Manon releases a humming sound, and you can hear the water slosh as she moves around a bit, picking her head up from where she was resting.
"Why so formal, maidservant?" She sounds like she's teasing.
You grow flustered, confused. "I... My Queen... I do not mean any offense, and I do not wish to invade your privacy. I was fetched by your Second, she said you requested my services...?"
Manon gives a short, quick laugh. "I know why you're here."
When you don't respond right away, Manon grows impatient. "Look at me when I speak to you."
Your stomach drops, face growing hot and red. Finally, you lift your head. Manon is staring straight at you. Her white hair is wet, a few strands sticking to her face and neck. You can see her collarbones, glistening from the steam. But thankfully, the rest of her body is obscured not only by the side of the tub, by what you can tell is... bubbles. You hadn't expected to find the Witch Queen taking a bubble bath, but you suppose it does not matter if she is not going to allow you to leave this room alive.
"My apologies, my Queen. I did not wish to make you uncomfortable." You're sincere when you say this, not knowing what limits the Queen has with her servants.
One of Manon's hands, which is resting on the edge of the tub, begins to extend its claws. They're not at their full length, just slightly pointed. She clicks them against the porcelain, eyes trailing up and down your body.
"I've called you here so that you may assist me with my bath." Her voice is sharp, husky.
You try to resist the urge to screw your face in confusion, but your eyebrows furrow slightly, and you cannot help but say, "Why?"
Manon arches a pale brow, her jaw tightens. Before she can speak, you immediately attempt to counteract the damage you've done. "I-I mean, my Queen, you have not required assistance with a bath before," Manon's face doesn't look any less displeased, and so you continue, "And there isn't anything wrong with assistance, my Queen..." again, Manon just stares. "I just wonder if... you're alright. Or... why you requested that I assist you...?" Your voice trails off at the end, and you bite your lip in anticipation, expecting her to lash out at you for your insolence.
"Do you believe yourself to be in any position to question me?" Manon asks.
You swallow hard, eyes yet again returning to the ground. "No, my Queen. I am so, so sorry. I will assist you in any way you wish."
Manon does not answer for a moment, leading you to lift your head slightly, to see if she's preparing to strike. She hasn't moved from her spot, still staring at where you stand.
Finally, Manon gives one quick nod. "You cannot assist with my bath from over there, can you?"
You shake your head, "No, my Queen," stepping forward a few paces, until you're within arm's length of the tub, you ask, "Where would you like me to begin, my Queen?"
She scoffs, settling back into the tub. "I think you know what a bath entails, and stop saying 'my Queen.' I get so sick of it."
"Y-Yes, my Q-," you stop yourself before you can finish. "I mean, yes of course. My apologies."
You take just a few more steps forward, until you are standing at the edge of the tub, looking down at the Queen. Your cheeks flush red at what you can see of her body, though most is obscured by the bubbles. You can see the tops of her breast, just the very top edge of her pink nipples. Her knees are bent, her soft legs exposed, shining from the water. She's got her head resting back on the tub, a washcloth used as a cushion. Her eyes are closed, and she looks alarmingly relaxed and peaceful. You know that she's a predator, one of the most feared, but you can't help but note how vulnerable she appears.
You lower yourself onto your knees, a bit hesitant to reach out and touch her. You dip a hand into the water, testing the warmth. It is quite hot, warmer than you would make your own bath, but not unbearable.
"Shall I start with your hair...?" You speak so quietly, unwilling to disrupt the calm in the room.
Manon gives a grunt of approval, sitting up and moving forward to allow you access to her moonlit strands.
When she sits up straight, her breasts are nearly entirely exposed. You suck in a sharp breath of air, diverting your eyes elsewhere. Her breasts are full and perky, nipples soft and pretty. They glisten from the wet, stray bubbles clinging on.
After a moment of composing yourself, attempting to tame the fire in your belly, you reach a shaky hand to her long hair sticking to her back. You're sure to keep your eyes on the back of her head, resisting the urge to peer over her shoulder.
Her hair is thick and soft, and when you reach both hands forward to pull it all back from her face, you swear you hear Manon hum in content.
Grabbing the shampoo from a glass jar on a small table nearby, you dump a small amount in the palm of your hand before returning your touch to her hair. You start at her scalp, working the soap into her roots. Using your nails, you give gentle scratches to her head, starting at her temples, working until you're at the base of her neck. She bends her head forward a bit to give better access, and you move the suds down the rest of the length, hands brushing against the skin of her back.
When you're satisfied with the cleanliness, you softly ask, "Will you lean your head back, my Q-," you stop yourself before you can disobey her order, "You will you lean back, so that I can rinse?"
Manon chooses to not address your almost slip up, instead, scooting forward even more, her eyes still closed. She grasps the sides of the tub, then lays backwards until nearly her entire head is submerged. The water line dances around her face, her cheeks a bit flushed from the warmth.
At her actions, though, her entire chest has become exposed. At the sight of her breasts, you feel your stomach tighten, your arousal begin to grow. You have always found the Queen beautiful, have always been attracted to her. You never imagined you'd see this much of her.
You shake your head, fearing you have stared too long, that she'll notice where your gaze has fallen. You cup some of the warm water in your hands, careful to avoid the bubbles, and bring it to the top of her hairline. Once the top of her hair is thoroughly cleaned of shampoo, you run your hands through the hair submerged in the water. Manon's eyes flutter throughout the process, but they do not open.
Finally, when you're satisfied, you pull your hands away, eyes falling to her breasts again briefly before you clear your throat and tell her she can sit up now.
This time, when she moves, she does open her eyes. The water sloshes as she sits up, and she turns to face you.
"Is my naked body distracting you, Y/N?"
You feel stunned, caught and scared. 'I-I.. no, not at all. No, I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I ju-"
Manon cuts you off with a roll of her eyes, clicking her tongue. "Relax, maidservant. I'm not going to kill you for seeing something you clearly desire."
Your heart is pounding, eyes are wide. You sound terrified when you ask, "What?"
Manon just smirks at you, a wicked glint in her eyes. "Continue with the bath." She closes her eyes again, turning her head forward.
You feel confused, and nervous. Unsure of what exactly just happened. But of course, you do what the Queen says.
Reaching for the conditioner, you repeat the process you followed with the shampoo. Except this time, you're more conscious of where your eyes fall. When the conditioner is fully worked in, you pick her hair up, resting it on her shoulder so that it may sit, and not wash away in the water.
At this point, most of the bubbles have dissolved. Her body is nearly entirely exposed and you're struggling to not let your thoughts turn lewd, inappropriate.
"Shall we let that sit? I can return in a few moments, to wash it out." You ask her, already rising to your feet.
Manon grips your wrist where your hand rests on the side of the tub, preventing you from standing. "And what of my body? Do you not wash your own while your conditioner sits?" Her jaw is clenched, an eyebrow raised.
"Y-Yes of course, I just thought that you may want to do that part yourself."
She looks properly angry now, and her tone is tense when she speaks. "I called you here to assist with a bath, I thought you were entirely competent. But, perhaps I was wrong..."
Your heart sinks at her words, you feel mortified and desperate to make it right. Terrified that the Queen will see you unfit for duty, that she'll banish you from the castle, from work and your friends, you scramble to say, "No, of course not. My apologies, it won't happen again. We'll wash your body."
Manon gives you a sharp nod, and you know that this is it, you cannot mess up again.
You settle back onto your knees, leaning to grab a washcloth and the lavender scented bar of soap. You wet and lather the rag slowly, putting the soap back on the table before turning back to Manon.
You raise the washcloth to her back, rubbing gently in small circles. You bring the suds up to her shoulders, the back of her neck, before running it downwards. To your surprise, she releases a small groan.
"Are you alright, my Queen?" Your voice is quiet, and shaky.
Manon doesn't acknowledge the title, only saying, "I'm fine. Just sore, you try riding a beast for nearly three days straight."
You smile a bit, knowing how much she adores her Abraxos. "It seems very taxing, I'm sure a hot bath feels nice, then."
Manon just hums, her muscles becoming visibly more relaxed.
You continue with her back, your hand had momentarily paused its movements. When you reach the waterline, though, you still.
Manon can feel where you've stopped, and so she rises to her knees, allowing you to wash the rest of her.
You take a deep breath in, eyes settling on her backside. She's slim and muscular, her ass firm and round. The water drips down her back, running across her cheeks. You want to lean in and lick it from her.
You reel your thoughts back in, attempting to concentrate. You trail the washcloth further down, coating her in lavender smelling suds. When you finish, you get to work on her arms. You start at her shoulders, working down to her hands. Once satisfied, you know that the next step is to wash her front.
You bring a hand up to rest gently on the back of her waist, signaling that you're moving on now. She turns a bit, and you meet her halfway.
It's nearly impossible to not get distracted by her chest, her toned stomach, the hint of abs. But you manage to keep your eyes on her collarbones as you bring the washcloth up, running over her chest. The water and soap drips down, the lavender smell almost too good to resist leaning in.
You work down, working the soap over her chest gently. Her breasts bounce a bit as you clean them, her nipples harden when you trace the washcloth over them. You can't help but wonder how'd they'd feel in your hand.
You imagine how soft they'd feel, how they'd spill over your cupped hands because they're so full and plush. You imagine how beautiful she'd look with red and purple marks coating her pale skin, how she'd look with her chest heaving while you sat on top of her. How'd they look swaying in your face as she rode you.
You push the thoughts from your head, working the cloth down to the underneaths of her breasts, then down her stomach. You swallow hard when you reach her thighs, the water and soap clinging to the patch of white hair at her core. You run the cloth over it quickly, gently.
Finally, you pull away, looking back up at her face. She's staring at you intently, the corners of her mouth threatening to turn into a smile.
"You may sit back now, and bring your legs up if you'd like me to wash them, too." You say to her, knowing the redness of your face is obvious, the cause of it, too.
She sits back down in the tub, leaning against the back to raise one of her legs in the air. You start at her foot, working the cloth in circular motions on the bottom of it, then the top, then her ankle. You run the cloth up her smooth calf, the bottoms of her thigh that isn't under the water. When you finish, you push her leg down gently, signaling that it's time for the other one.
When the entire process is finished, you note that the water has begun to grow cold. "Let's wash your hair out quickly now, I don't want you to have to have a cold bath."
Manon gives a soft "Hmm" in agreement, sitting forward so that you can wash her hair.
You try and work quickly, but her hair is so long and thick. When her hair finally feels void of conditioner and soap, you stand up. Reaching for the drain, you pull it up and allow the water to begin to escape.
You can feel Manon's eyes tracking every move you make, and you work hard to not look at her, knowing your eyes will stray.
"I will grab you a towel, shall I also find you a nightgown to wear, my Queen?"
"The gown won't be necessary." Her voice is husky, and you shiver a bit at the thought that Manon prefers to sleep naked.
You nod politely, and scurry off to the chest of drawers in the bathroom. While finding a large towel, you hear what's left of the water splash as Manon steps out of the tub.
As you settle on one soft to give her, you recognize the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching. Her bare feet are padding the hard ground softly, audibly dripping wet.
You finally turn to face her, towel clutched in your hands. She's looking directly in your eyes and it's difficult not to flinch under her gaze.
She nods to the towel in your arms, "Well, are you going to dry me?"
You swallow the lump in your throat, nodding your head rapidly. There isn't much distance between the two of you now, but you take the rest of the steps required to close it.
Shaking hands reach out, placing the towel on top of one of her shoulders. She watches you closely, and you keep your eyes trained on her body as you move the towel down, collecting the water droplets. You do the same to the other arm, then you bring the towel to her chest.
As you rub the towel into her skin, you can't stop the desire in your gut from forming as you feel her breasts through the towel. Working your way down, your mouth almost waters at the sight of her cunt and her strong thighs.
You're breathing hard by the time you step around her, drying her back and her ass, too. Her hair is heavy and wet, and when you're done, you wrap the towel around her hair and squeeze, ridding it of the access moisture weighing it down.
When done, you take a step back, admiring her backside for one more second before you bring your eyes back up. "All done, would you like me to clean up the bathroom before I take my leave?" She had dripped a fair amount of water onto the ground as she had approached you.
Manon turns to face you and furrows her brows in confusion. "Leave? Why would you leave? I am still wet, maidservant."
Now, it's your turn to look confused. "I'm sorry, my Queen, but I'm not sure what you mean..."
Manon steps impossibly closer, the two of you nearly chest to chest. She's a head taller than you, so you crane your neck to look up at her. The towel drops from your hands at the sudden proximity, and you wonder if you've done something to really upset her.
Manon moves faster than lightning, her hand darting out to grasp your wrist. You gasp at the suddenness, wondering what she plans to do.
Her grip is tight as she pulls your hand closer to her body, lowering it until your fingers are brushing through the white hair on her cunt, until they're making contact with her wet heat.
"I said, 'I'm still wet, maidservant.' What are you going to do about it?"
Your heart is hammering, wetness immediately beginning to gather between your thighs. Your chest is heaving from where you're breathing heavily, and your hands are trembling. "M-My Queen, I'm so confu-"
Before you can finish your sentence, Manon is surging forward and kissing you passionately. You don't move for a second, too shocked to react. But she's pushing you back until you hit the wall, never releasing your lips from her own.
After a moment, you let your desire take over. Though still muddled with confusion, you close your eyes and give in to the kiss.
It's hot and feverish, desperate and uncontrolled. She's released your hand so that her own can grip your face, and she's pressing her body into yours.
Her tongue begins working at the seams of your lips, and you open them so that your tongue can dance with hers.
She pulls back for a second, letting both of you catch your breath. "Are you still confused?"
"Yes, entirely," Manon laughs at your statement, at the fierce red blush of your cheeks and the confusion in your eyes, "Are you sure that you want... this? To do this with me?"
Manon smirks before speaking, her eyes flitting down to your lips before looking back up at you. "I've found you attractive for a long time, and I see you stealing glances at me when you think I don't notice. Why should we not?"
Your mouth gapes open in shock, unable to form a sentence, you just stutter and make a fool of yourself. The Witch Queen desires... me?
Manon doesn't need a response, though. She knows that you want this.
Her lips attach to yours once again, and she bites on your lip before making her way down. Her lips trail across your jaw, to just underneath your ear, where she takes your earlobe in between her teeth, giving it a gentle tug.
You can't help the moan that escapes you, your hands coming up to grip her upper arms. She continues her descent, sucking harsh marks onto your throat and collarbones.
She peers up at where you've tossed your head back on the wall, where you've let your eyes flutter shut. She grins when they dart open at the feel of her pulling away.
She takes a few steps back, and you let your eyes roam over her naked body in earnest now.
"Beautiful," is what you whisper under your breath at the sight.
"Go into the bedroom, stand at the end of the bed." Manon's orders are direct and leave no room for argument. Not that you would, anyway.
You nod your head, then turn to open the bathroom door, pushing it open and entering the bedroom. You cross the room to stand at the foot of the bed as she instructed, turning to face where she now stands in the doorway.
Her eyes rake over your clothed body, and you grow a bit insecure. Your hair is a bit damp with sweat from the heat of the bathwater, and your plain dress is stained from working in the kitchens.
Manon doesn't seem to mind, though, as she begins walking closer.
You watch how her thighs move with every step she takes, how you can see wetness on the insides of them. You watch her abs flex, her tits bounce, and her face turn wicked.
Then, you spot how she extends her iron claws on her right hand. You swallow hard, eyes zeroing in on the sudden appearance of her natural weapons.
When she's finally close enough to touch you, she brings her hand up, trailing a claw from just underneath your eye, down your throat, and to your collarbone.
She doesn't really use it, though, until she's at the top of your dress.
Quicker than you can blink, she's slashing your dress down the middle. You gasp as it falls to the floor, body instantly struck with the cool air. You bring your arms up, attempting to cover your now bare chest.
Manon will have none of this, though. "I think it's only fair that you're undressed too, no?"
You shiver from the exposure and just stare at her, not responding.
"I asked you a question, maidservant. Do you think it's fair for me to be naked, and for you to not?" She takes another step forward, not breaking eye contact.
Finally, you stutter, "N-No, I-I suppose not."
Manon smirks, it's all malice and no warmth. "Good. Now, drop your arms."
You hesitate for a split second, but you cannot deny that you want her to see you. You want many, many things from the Witch Queen.
You do as she says, bringing your arms back down to your sides.
Instantly, Manon's eyes drag to your chest.
You try not to be insecure. They're large, and gravity has not been kind to them. They're covered in stretch marks, and you cannot help but think of all the teasing you endured growing up, as you filled out your body, growing thick and full.
You wonder if Manon minds, the angry red marks. The fact that your stomach is not flat, that your thighs are dimpled and touching one another.
As if sensing your negative thoughts, Manon places her iron claw, which she's shortened, underneath your chin. She tilts your face up, forcing you to look at her.
"I've wanted to fuck you for a long time, Y/N. Tell me, do you want to fuck me, too?"
You swallow, hard. Your heart is pounding, skin flushed with desire.
"Y-yes, my Q-," you stop yourself, remembering how she dislikes the title. "Yes, Manon."
Her grip tightens on your chin, her eyes narrow. "Yes, what?"
"Yes, I want to fuck you, Manon." Your voice is a near whisper, laced with lust. Your eyes flick downwards, to her lips. Lips you very much want to kiss again.
And so, you do. Leaning forward, Manon drops your chin as your lips meet, instead choosing to wrap her arms around your bare frame. Your plush body meets her toned one, and it feels like a fire's been lit in your belly at the feel of her nakedness against your own.
Manon's hands wander down your body, claws shredding your flimsy underwear, the last item on your body. Her hands knead your full ass, and you moan into her mouth at the touch. She takes the opportunity to push her tongue into your mouth, taking your make out further for a few moments, before she's pushing you down onto the bed.
You hit the mattress with a small huff, and Manon pulls away from your lips to trail kisses downwards. Her lips begin sucking a mark under the curve of your jaw, leaving small red and purple splotches in her wake as she covers the expanse of your throat and collarbones.
She continues, leaving open-mouthed kisses across the top of your chest. Her hands come up, pushing your large breasts into cleavage as she kneads and toys with a nipple. Her mouth occupies the other one, sucking and lightly nibbling with her teeth.
You're writhing on the bed underneath her, quiet pants of her name falling from your lips as you tangle your fingers in her hair. She releases your nipple with a pop, bringing her eyes up to meet your gaze.
"What do you want, kitty?" Her mouth covers your other nipple, removing her hands to give it the same wet attention as the other breast.
Your chest arches into her mouth. "More, please," you moan, aware of how pathetic you sound.
She smiles against your breast, it's devious and it makes your wet heat throb. She pulls away, sitting up and pinching at your nipples with both of her hands, aided by the wetness her mouth has left.
Her eyes take in your body, your swollen lips, red and parted as you pant. Your chest, covered in her marks, full breasts bouncing as your chest heaves. She bites her lip and smirks. "You're fucking hot, Y/N, do you know that?"
You shake your head no, and she growls a bit in disappointment. She shuffles down your body, gripping your thick thighs and pulling them open. She groans at the sight of your cunt, your pubic hair glistening with your arousal. The smell hits her, and her mouth waters with the need to taste you.
One of her hands travels the large expanse of your stomach, squeezing the flesh of your hips and curves. She trails across your bellybutton, and brings her thumb down to the hood of your clit. She places pressure there, but not nearly enough. Nevertheless, you whine at the jolt of pleasure, bucking your hips.
She hisses, her other hand grabbing one of your thighs, digging her nails in just a bit. A warning, for you to stay still.
She spreads your legs even wider, then settles onto her stomach between your thighs. Your eyes go wide at what she's about to do, and she makes sure to make eye contact as she spreads your lips apart with her thumbs, purses her lips, and spits right onto your clit. You gasp at the dirtiness of the action, and Manon grins in wicked delight.
"I'm gonna make this cunt mine, understand?"
You nod your head rapidly, wanting nothing more than to belong wholly to Manon.
Clearly, this displeases her. She lands a smack to your pussy, and you jump at the sting, whining at the pleasurable pain. She glares at you, "I said, do you understand?"
You groan in frustration, "Yes, yes, I understand!"
She hums, finally satisfied. "Good, and don't you dare move too much."
And with that, she's lowering her mouth to your cunt. She licks a few stripes with her tongue, from your sopping wet hole, to your swollen clit, and back again. Her strokes are light and teasing, and they have you biting your lip at the gentleness of it.
Then, she flicks her tongue along your clit, hard, up and down motions. You jerk, and again, she's digging her claws into your thigh. This time, you get the faint sensation she may have drawn blood.
She pulls back, and you look down, just to see her lick her lips and mumble against your lips, "Whose pussy is this?"
She sucks your clit into her mouth, hard, but slow sucks on the bundle of nerves. Your head falls back and your eyes flutter closed, "Yours, Manon, it's yours."
She sucks faster at your response, then brings an unclawed hand up, pushing her middle finger into your entrance. Despite how wet you are, you're still so tight, so she pushes slowly, eventually burying her slender finger into your contracting walls.
She holds still, focusing on working your clit with her mouth, until she slowly starts to gently thrust. Her pace is torturous, and when you finally moan out a cry for more, she begins to thrust faster. Her mouth hasn't left your throbbing clit once, and a coil is winding in the pit of your belly.
She can feel you clenching, hear your moans grow louder and louder. When she adds a second finger, curling in a come-hither motion, your arching off the bed, hands flying to her hair, pushing her deeper into your pussy. You expect her to scold you for it, but she moans against you, alternating between sucking your clit and flicking it.
When you become dangerously close to falling over the edge, you moan Manon's name, "I'm gonna cum, Manon, fuck."
She nods slightly against you, fingers fucking you wildly, mouth sloppily working your clit.
You cum all over her face, tightening around her fingers, chest heaving and a loud cry of her name falling from your lips. You're moaning with reckless abandon, uncaring if someone were to hear how well she's fucking you.
You're coming down from your high, but Manon isn't stopping. She pulls her fingers from your cunt, only to move her mouth down, choosing to fuck you with her tongue, now. You gasp, and try to push her head away due to the oversensitivity. She growls a warning into your heat, swatting your hands away, then using her fingers on your throbbing clit.
Quicker than before, you're on the edge of yet another orgasm. You're panting her name like its a prayer, mumbling, "'S'too much, fuck, Manon."
Manon doesn't care. Her plan was to show you who your pussy belongs to, and she continues to do exactly that.
Between her wet muscle rapidly fucking in and out of you, and her fingers rubbing harsh, tight circles on your clit, it's no surprise you don't last long. For the second time in just a matter of minutes, you're climaxing all over your Queen's face and hand.
This time, she relents, allowing you to come down, slowing her pace, before pulling away from you completely. You sigh in satisfaction, raising your head to look down at her, still laid between your spread legs.
She looks to your thigh, and you follow her gaze, confirming that she had, indeed, drawn blood with her clawed grip. You don't mind, it's not much of anything, just a few trickling droplets.
Your mouth drops open, eyebrows raising just a fraction when Manon leans in and licks the drying blood from where it's ran down the expanse of your thigh. And even though you'd just had two very intense orgasms, the sight makes your lower belly ache, full with desire for her all over again.
Manon rises to her knees, climbing back up your body. She braces herself on her hands, hovering above you, just barely out of reach. You huff at the tease, reaching up to grab her and pull her down.
She chuckles into your mouth as you kiss her, tasting your desire still on her tongue. Your hands roam her back, feeling the toned muscles. She sits herself on your lower abdomen, and you move farther down, kneading her ass and hips.
When she moans, you take the opportunity to pull back, tugging on her lower lip with your teeth.
You work your way up, until your hands land on her perky breasts. You massage them, rubbing your thumbs back and forth over her pretty pink nipples.
"You gonna let me make you cum, now?" You ask, husky and thick.
She smirks, biting her lip at the stimulation to her nipples. "Hmm, I suppose so."
You quickly rise to a sitting position, Manon leaning back to allow you to move easier. You lean forward like a woman starved, desperate to taste her skin.
You pull a nipple into your mouth, tugging it with your teeth before soothing it with your tongue. Manon's hands fly to your hair, urging you deeper into her chest. One hand works her other nipple while the other squeezes her ass.
Manon's pants and sighs urge you on, bringing your mouth to the other nipple to give it the same attention.
Eventually, Manon pushes you back down by your shoulders, shooting you a grin before she starts making her way up your body. You realize exactly what she's planning, and your stomach flutters in excitement. While she's adjusting herself, you give her ass a small smack, hoping she likes that. When she shoots a glare down at you, you grin, knowing she's not truly upset you. You file away that information for later, that Manon likes a bit of hitting, because you are truly hoping that this happens again sometime.
When her knees are on either side of your head, you place your hands on her thighs, bracing her and urging her to lower herself down. She sees how you eye her wet cunt, and she grabs some of your hair in her hand, making you look up at her.
"Are you gonna make me cum, kitty?"
You nod enthusiastically, licking your lips in anticipation. She hums, then finally, she lowers her hips.
You waste no time, licking through her lips excitedly. She jumps at the contact, then settles back down. You work through the length of her cunt a few times, one hand moving to her ass, squeezing it and pushing her deeper into your mouth.
Your tongue begins working quick circles around her clit, and she starts moving her hips back and forth along your tongue. You hum into her heat, encouraging her to ride your face like she clearly wants to. You pull away for a brief second to catch your breath and mumble, "Make me yours Manon, use me however you want," before you're burying your face into her wetness once again.
Manon doesn't need to be told twice, grinding herself down, riding your pretty face the way she'd been wanting to for so long. You moan into her, and the vibration quickly brings her closer to the edge.
You slip your tongue into her entrance, your nose nudging her clit with each roll of her hips, encouraged by the firm grip you have on her hip and ass.
"Fuck, Y/N," Manon moans, her head tossed back and eyes closed shut. You can tell from her voice that she's so close, and you pull your hand back and land another smack to her ass to encourage her. She gasps, and after a few more rolls of her hips, she's gushing all over your face. You lap at her cunt softly as she comes down from her high, eager to continue if that's what she wants.
But, Manon sits herself back up, panting at the intensity of her orgasm. She moves back down, then she bends so that she can connect your lips once more in a kiss. This time, the kiss is softer, not as full of heat as the others had been.
She moves to lay beside you on the bed, but hovers above you, pecking your lips several times before you speak. "Are you done already?" Your voice has a teasing tone to it, and you bite your lip to hold back a smile. "I think it's only fair you get to cum twice too, yes?"
Manon grins, clearly pleased that you care so much about her pleasure. "Maybe I wanted this to be more about you than it is about me?"
Your eyebrows scrunch in a bit of confusion, wondering why she seems to care so much for you.
She senses the question you don't dare to ask, and she tucks a loose lock of hair behind your ear before speaking. "You've always caught my eye, Y/N, since I met you. And in more ways than just your looks. Is it so surprising someone would be interested in you?"
You want to say, yes, it is surprising someone could be attracted to me. But that isn't what confuses you the most. "Y-You're the... Queen..."
Manon raises an eyebrow at you, as if to say, "So what?"
"What does that matter? I'm still a person with desires, like anyone else."
You can tell by her tone and the look in her eye that she's sincere, if not by the attention she'd just paid to your body. You nod, not sure how to respond with words.
She kisses you again, then wraps her arms around you, pulling you into her still bare chest.
"Get used to this, maidservant, we will be doing this again."
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bryceandhunt · 2 years
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“My brothers”
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nestaismommy · 1 year
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He rlly didn’t
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theflyinvelaris · 5 days
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***these images + the artwork are not my own!! these creators are unbelievably talented! and I will link everyone below! characters owned by Sarah J. Maas ***
Defender of the Rainbow, Feyre Archeron ☂️
under an onslaught of doubt and fear, the warrior wonders if they're right: that she isn't strong enough, or good enough, or brave enough- but then she smiles, remembering all the battles she has already won. So she plants her feet a little more firmly and swings her sword again b. diaz
this collage is ADMITTEDLY rushed and kinda thrown together
but in a thoughtful way, i promise!
i realized that i only had one collage dedicated to prythian's princess and that just won't stand
so
i made one more dedicated to Feyre Archeron, herself
BECAUSE I. DO. NOT. CARE. what anyone says! Feyre is a badass! And she is BOTH caring and empathetic and determined whilst being young and figuring how to SAVE THE WORLD like a high lady.
Give the girl some damn credit
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The fact that she learned how to read at the age of 19 is impressive enough (IT IS HARDER FOR ADULTS TO LEARN HOW TO READ THAN KIDS!!!) and then she went under the mountain to save her trashy bf and died! 💀 and then came back as the *very thing* her father, friends, and family told her to fear and stay away from at all costs (a 🧚🏼), and THEN adapted! learned how to deal with a body that moves and processes faster than anything she experienced, prior THEN she watched her sisters be tortured; pushed against their will to enter the same new world Feyre, herself, is experiencing. okay. she can adapt to that, too. OH, but actually the bad guy is STILL bad and STILL wants to destroy the world!!! oh! and that trashy bf that you went under the mountain for...? yeah, he's joined the bad side. yikes. so go fight and save the world, girl! only u can stop the cauldron! dun dun dunnnnnn OH! psych! you destroying it is actually gonna put a hole into the universe, so you gotta.. close that. and it's gonna kill your mate to do it! 🤡 (he comes back) yay! let's celebrate by making babies and binding our lives together! oh, sorry actually... yeah, that baby has wings that will tearrrr you up girl, rip tho oops, and that also means that your mate goes too... )': OH, and, just so you know... your sister is batshit crazy powerful and a little off the walls and also kidnapped and thrown into a deadly fight-to-the-death-competition... is this a bad time?
SO
IM JUST SAYING!
she's flawed, and sure, she can be obnoxious at times. and, also a tad non-relatable. BUT, she is nineteen, twenty max.
are u telling me u were so awesome and amazing and perfect at 19?
*my* 19 was 3 years ago... bbg that was NOT my prime time, trust and believe!
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the well of love for feyre archeron, on this account, will NEVER run dry and that's a promise AND a guarantee
so,
deal with it. i guess.
YOU CAN LIKE ALL THE SISTERS. THAT'S THE BEAUTY OF FREE WILL. YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU WANT. YOU CAN HAVE FAVORITES. BUT YOU DON'T *HAVE* TO HATE ANY OF THEM!!!!!
and onto more important matters:
The Artists.
You dirty dogs did it again! I can't get over your OVERWHELMING talent!!! So many people have done such beautiful justice to our high lady🥺outstanding job!!! 💖 THANK YOU!!! i couldnt do any of this without ya! 💖 PLS, pls, PLEASE, if you do nothing else today, show some love to these insanely talented peoples! they deserve everything and MORE!
All credit to these artists! info below!
Rhys saving Feyre from her trash wedding to tammy-boy by vinc_ry
a portrait of our high lady pregnant with nyx by b_kinkyk
a side profile of Feyre with her hair and tats looking gorgeous by aiphos.s
Feyre and Rhysand at their wedding ceremony (that we were robbed of, tyvm sjm) by artcraawl AND yaz.the.bookish
Rhys loving on Feyre, giving her a 'lil kiss on the cheek by lulybot
cursebreaker wearing a cutie cut-out neckline by gessueter
modern take on Feyre, wearing some big ol' silver hoops (LOVE) by _ellieoo_
Feyre laughing in the lower right (this scene is actually from her first dinner out in Velaris, where the food wakens something in her, and Rhys realizes he'd do anything to keep her smiling like that) by tangerine.eileen (fan fave artista, right here!)
THANK YOU!! love u!!!!!
PS: my favorite part about this collage is if u zoom in on the polaroid of "feyre and rhys" and the handwriting dating it, i just love that little detail
i've said it before, and i'll say it otra vez, but zooming in is so satisfying with these collages. i scrutinize every detail a bajillion times, so it can be fun to find flaws or oopsie-doopsies.
find my other collages here!
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Dorian and Manon will have kinky sex. I already see it for me and I will hate it. The cringe will be real
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moonbeam-b0o · 2 years
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Feyre at night while Tamlin sleeps his beauty sleep
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silverflameataraxia · 2 years
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Can SJM get any more obvious?
It was only when she was walking up the steps of the archives that she realized she was still smiling. That all thoughts of the luncheon had faded away.
Hunt had done that for her. She'd never stop being grateful for it - for him. Bryce's heart tightened and something brighter than starlight filled her veins.
It remained, shimmering and secret, glowing inside her for the rest of the day.
Something sparked in Azriel's chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn's teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason...he could see it.
But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly.
A thing of secret, lovely beauty.
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mamadoe · 24 days
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🍁 The Forgotten Sister - Chapter 8
(I posted this on AO3 ages ago and forgot to post here, sorry 😬)
Partially edited, may come back and revise minor mistakes in the future.
~~~
Complete Masterlist
Also on AO3
Warning || only one bed, fluff, flirting
Word Count || 7885
~~~
The old marble floor of the barely lit throne room is a view I know all too well. My hands are that of a child’s against the cold floor. My little knees ache from holding this position for so long. Without tilting my head up, I try to glance toward the throne before me, but all I glimpse are the feet of Father’s hounds, their long, gangly legs stretched out as they lay at Father’s feet. My legs begin to scream in protest as I continue my punishment. What had I done this time to earn this treatment? I wrack my brain for it, but nothing comes. What’s the point of a punishment if I don’t know what I’m being punished for?
“Althea.” His voice is deep and gravelly, full of disdain. My skin heats from his unfiltered self being directed at me. “Look at me, child.” Eyes wide, I lift my gaze across the deep red rug that cascades down the steps leading to his throne. The hounds already sit upright in response to his voice, their brownish-grey wiry coats ragged and unkempt. Even the dogs look at him as my eyes meet his - dark as the night. They scare me. They have always scared me. He sits tall in his throne under a stark light, the only light in the room. I don’t dare speak until he gives me permission in fear of him making me kneel here longer. “Do you know what it is to be High Fae, child?” His question confuses me. Of course, I have been studying our history, but what does that have to do with this?
“High Fae are the rulers of Prythian, Father,” I meekly force out, and his unyielding glare upon me doesn’t give. My child-like voice is small and nearly gets swallowed up in the massive darkness of the throne room.
“Yes, but what else? What makes you High Fae, Althea?” I try to keep my eyes meeting his, but his question confuses me more, so I glance over his shoulder to Mother. She’s standing just behind his throne to the left, her hand resting on his shoulder and reflects white under the light’s intensity. However, the rest of her is nearly completely shrouded in darkness, and I can barely make out her features, but I can tell her expression is blank, cold even, and doesn’t reassure me in the slightest.
“Both you and Mother are High Fae, making me High Fae,” I find my words, my voice struggling to keep a stable tone as the nerves set in, and my skin begins to crawl with heat.
“Correct. High Fae do not mingle with the lower faeries. Do you understand?” His tone somehow falls deeper, harsher than before. To be honest, I don’t know what exactly he’s talking about, but I’m afraid if I tell him that, he will push my punishment further.
“Yes, Father,” I whisper, glancing down to the floor, but a loud thud of Father’s cane on the rug makes me flinch, and I glance back up to him.
“Do not ever speak with the servants again, Althea. If you so much as look at them, there will be punishment. Do you understand?” His words slice right through me. I had been talking to one of the maids in the kitchen earlier today while I was on my way to my tudor’s study. She had given me an apple and sent me on my way.
“Yes, Father,” is all I manage.
“You will not end up like him,” he commands firmly, and I can see Mother’s hand squeeze Father’s shoulder, but when I look to her, her face is now completely masked with black smoke that billows out and down her arms. Who does he mean by that?
“Y-Yes, Father. I apologize,” I weakly offer as I bow down so low that my forehead meets the cold floor.
“We will not have another one who defies me. You will abide by my rule.” I nod against the floor in understanding, but the growl of one of the hounds draws my attention. One of them is making its way down the steps toward me, head low, golden eyes glowing, a deep growl rumbling in its chest as it carries itself on its too-long legs.
“F-Father?” I whine from the floor, vulnerable for the taking like prey. The creature continues its approach, its growl morphing into something reminiscent of a garbled bark, its form shifting, expanding, deforming to be larger than life, as it now looms over my child-like form. My terror quakes me to my core as I tremble before it, its bark loud and overwhelming. The darkness of the throne room is closing in on us as it leans down over me, the shine of its bright white teeth cutting through the darkness, lips pulled back in a grotesque snarl as it prepares to sink its teeth into me.
“Wake up!” hisses through the darkness, and I am swiftly ripped from my nightmare. My breathing is heavy, and a light sweat coats my skin in the cool night air. The sky has grown almost completely dark and star flecked now that the sun has just past the horizon, and the chill of the night is setting in quickly.  Irian is stooped over me, his face painted with fear and concern as he shakes me lightly. “Wake up. We gotta move quickly.” Before I can thank him for pulling me from the depths of my nightmare, I hear it - barking in the distance. I can’t pinpoint how far off they are, but for sure they are making ground and heading this way. The familiar high-pitched yaps of Father’s hounds break through the night, and I immediately feel my dinner churn in my stomach. Their barks must have carried into my dream. Irian doesn’t hesitate before pulling me up to my feet swiftly, and I almost ignore the groaning protest of my legs as I bear my weight on them, the soreness from riding having fully set in while I slept. A moment later he is securing the cloak around my neck under the cowl of the sweater and pulling the hood up, tucking my braid in to hide its identifiable red.
“How did they make it this far?” I whisper as he leads me through the dark with large strides over to Bits. Her saddle is already secured, saddle bags and all.
“They must have noticed Bits and I were gone quicker than I thought they would,” he returns as he takes me by the waist and hoists me up, my legs finding purchase on either side of her back. “I work in the Northern stable, so they must have put two-and-two together. The hounds can pick up just about any scent.” He clasps his hand around the horn of the saddle and heaves himself up, and after a brief moment of him adjusting in his seat, my arms find their hold around his waist. It’s only now that I realize he is clad in his own thick sweater in preparation for facing the cold. “All they’d need is some clothing of yours that hasn’t been washed, and they’re on the hunt,” he says under his breath as he adjusts his weight one more time as I swiftly kick my legs to unroll my pants to cover my feet. I’ll have to tie them closed later. The sound of the hounds grows closer by the second, but with a quick snap of the reins, Bits takes off into the tree line, heading north.
~~~
The night is long, only broken up by brief changes of Bits’ pace. As the fear of the chase settles in, we remain silent, as if our voices would give away our location or our pursuers don’t already have a homing beacon on our backs. All sense of time melts away as the dark night sky stretches past the horizon of the canopy of the trees, no moon to guide us. That doesn’t slow down Irian, however; his hands keep the reins moving with determination. I try to ignore the ache of my lower half as it strains to keep me secure against his ridged back, and the chill nips at my fingers as we travel higher into the mountains and the night’s air sinks into our bones. Already, the air is thinning, making my breaths short and hasty.
The fear of being caught drives him to make quick decisions - follow the path, break away here to gain just a little bit more ground, ducking down to avoid low-hanging branches. If captured, the punishment for this would be death, undoubtedly, and it isn’t in his plan to die, not today. Thankfully, his quick thinking and Bits’ stamina put adequate distance between us and them, the sound of the hounds slowly dissipating into the night. Even then, Irian doesn’t stop for anything, whispering under his breath that they can’t risk it, not again.
My hold on him is firm as I rest the side of my face against the back of his shoulder, listening carefully for anything behind us, but the only thing that my ears register are the rhythmic drumming of Bits’ hooves against the varying terrain in one ear and Irian’s steady, strong heartbeat in the other. If I weren’t trying to hold on for dear life, I could imagine myself slipping into a trance, but my heart lives in my throat as the adrenaline-fueled fear finally begins to ebb. Exhausted, I let my eyes drift close to give them a rest, tightening my arms around his waist noticeably. Irian takes notice and finally glances back at her for the first time since taking off.
“Ya okay back there?” One of his large hands finds its place on top of mine, his longer, callused fingers sliding between more delicate ones so he can give my hand a squeeze. Still bouncing from Bits’ gallop and Irian’s skilled riding, I’ve managed to match his riding rhythm, so it’s more comfortable at least.
“I suppose, considering,” I rest my chin on his shoulder, brows knit together as my eyes barely meet his. Hisonce-joyous smile hasn’t returned and instead a small frown is in its place.
“Don’t ya worry. Once we are over the mountain peaks, they won’t follow. We can find someplace to stop then, okay? Maybe get some warm food in ya, too,” he gives an assuring nod before redirecting his focus ahead, letting his hand linger clasped over mine for a moment longer before withdrawing it. Immediately I miss the touch as it’s my only comfort right now. My head remains on his shoulder as I try to look forward into the dark to see what he sees, but to me, we are darting through pitch darkness.
“How do you know where we are going?” His small laugh under his breath eases some of the tension I’m carrying between my shoulders.
“Well, it helps if you can see in the dark,” he flashes a quick smirk, “One of the perks of being part night fae. The darkness is an old friend.” I blink at that. When I had scoped out his features before, I hadn’t put two and two together. From his drooped ears to his fangs, he is characteristically a night fae.
“Like a cat then?” I tease in an attempt to keep the mood light. I can feel a laugh bubble up through his chest but he stops it from ringing clear in the night.
“Yes, very much like a cat,” he returns under his breath before slowly bringing Bits to a stop, surveying something in the dark I cannot see. Bits’ heavy breath is loud in the stillness of the night, the heaving of her rib cage prominent beneath us. I hope she can hold out until we can stop; the poor girl has already pushed so hard to get us this far. After a brief pause, Irian gives a soft huff of affirmation before casting me a less-than-assuring look. “Hold tight, princess. We’re about to be airborne.”
“What?” is all that slips from my lips before he snaps the reins and Bits immediately starts forward. My hold tightens on him, fingers gripping the material of his sweater.
“Hold on!” Just as suddenly as he commands, Bits is jumping. We are up off her back, though Irian’s feet stay firmly planted in the stirrups. I’m not so lucky, Irian being my only anchor as I lift from Bits’ back.
“Fuck!” On instinct my legs lift and close against his sides in an instant, seeking anything more to anchor myself. I can’t even see why we are jumping, but I know being this high up in the mountains, it can’t be good and would be a quick, painful death if I fall now. The jump passes in an instant but feels like an eternity as my stomach flips in knots before her hooves connect and she stumbles before they find purchase on the solid ground on the other side of whatever she jumped over, taking a few solid steps away before Irian reins her to a stop.
“Woah, good girl,” he pats her neck, a soft pant escaping his lips before he gives me an earnest glance. “You, too.” I would blush, if I had any blood left to pool in my face that isn’t already coursing through my veins, fueled by adrenaline. He laughs softly at what must be the most petrified expression on my face. My frame is trembling against his back, and it’s only when one of his hands finds the outside of my knee that’s pressed against his side that I return his glance, eyes wide and wild.
“What the fuck was that?” I whisper, unable to will myself to unfurl my grasp on him. A brief lit of a tease dances across his features, but he decides against acting on it when he realizes how terrified I am.
“Oh, nothing. Don’t even worry about it.” His thumb caresses the top of my knee for a brief moment in an attempt to calm my leg’s trembling. “Just a little detour, alright?” He turns more so I can see his face better. Even in the dark, I can make out the faint tinge of light reflection. It makes his once golden eyes have a shiny quality, tinged with silver. How he’s able to see in the dark. “Just a rock slide took out a part of the path. They won’t be able to follow us this way now, not with the dogs at least.” For the life of me, I can’t stop shaking, my adrenaline piqued.
“J-Just rocks in the path?” He can’t keep a small smirk from lifting the corner of his mouth.
“Oh, no, the path is gone,” he watches my face as I short circuit.
“What?” My voice is meek. We could have fallen there, could have died, and he has the nerve to look at me like it was nothing.
“A good chunk of the path collapsed, so they’ll need good horses to get over that. But hey, we made it!” He finally lets a laugh loose before giving the outside of my trembling thigh another pat. “Don’t think about it too hard. Just be thankful you can’t see how far the fall is.” I can’t stop the fearful gulp that feels trapped in my throat.
“Oh, don’t worry, that’s all on you.” I huff and hide my face against his shoulder, pulling another laugh from him before his hands return to the reins and he steers Bits away from what turns out to be a near-death experience. Thankfully he doesn’t pry me from his frame, instead keeping Bits’ pace moderate as we continue on the unseeable path.
“We’ll be in the Winter Court soon, and trust me, you’ll know it. I know of a small, little village not far from the border. It’s mostly a logging town, but it’s off the beaten path, and people keep to themselves. And now, without the dogs, we should be fine to stay the night, warm ourselves, get what we need, and then head out before the sun rises tomorrow, sound good?” His tone is bright as he tries to ease my tension, but I’m not letting go until I see the lights of a fire-warmed inn. All I respond with is a nod, and he chuckles once more before leading us through the dark.
~~~
Cold embraces us as soon as we cross the wards into the Winter Court, and the wind cuts right through what I initially thought were nice, warm knit clothing. The only reprieve is the wool cloak, which I secured around his shoulders and pulled the hood up over his head to keep him as warm as possible while nestling in as close as I could underneath. Our shivering bodies lean into each other, seeking any warmth we can kindle.
Even in the dark as I glance over his shoulder, I can see the faint glow of snow on the ground, and big, fluffy flakes swirl through the windy air. Any tracks we leave behind will quickly be smoothed over by new downfall and the wind, giving me some much needed relief from my growing anxiety of being followed despite Irian’s best attempt at affirming they wouldn’t follow us now that we crossed the wards. Even Bits seems to slow from the cold, much to my dismay. Irian’s large, trembling hand strokes my arms over his stomach in a feeble attempt to warm them.
“A-About there, stay with me,” he says through chattering teeth, earning a soft mumble as I bury my frozen face between his shoulder blades.
“Hope so. We can’t take this cold much longer,” my teeth chatter uncontrollably. I’ve never been so cold, as if my bones are frozen from the inside. I can’t even feel below the knee with how deeply the cold has settled. Thankfully, his promise rings true as the sound of Bits’ hooves against the ground changes - muffled heavy steps to solid thuds against snow-packed ground. I can’t help but peek over his shoulder once more. The soft light of a fae light lantern burns brightly in the distance. As we draw closer, the subtle frames of small houses melt out of the darkness, and I sigh with relief. “Finally.” Irian nods in approval, unable to will any other response as he steers Bits through what must be snow-covered roads as the small, dark houses appear closer together. As we pass under the fae light, it feels almost too bright after being in the dark for so long, my eyes squinting as I glance around. It doesn’t take long to pinpoint the small inn he was talking about before, and he wasn’t joking - it sits nestled in the corner of what must be the village’s town square, but at first glance it appears like any other of the small buildings, just two stories and bigger, and most of the windows are dark except for what must be the one in the front entry.
Teeth chattering, Irian stops Bits just shy of the walkway. After a brief moment of hyping himself up, he unclasps the cloak, and before I can protest, he slides off Bits’ back and pulls the front of the cloak closed around me.
“I-I’m going in to check if they have a room open. Stay put. I don’t want them to see you if t-they don’t have to, okay?” I nod once as he digs a small pouch that jingles of coin from one of the saddle bags.
“P-Please hurry,” I chatter under my breath, the plume of condensation thick in the freezing air. With a nod, he quickly trudges through the snow to the front door and disappears inside, leaving Bits and me in the cold and stillness that comes to a village like this at night. Trying to distract myself from the cold rising up my legs without Irian helping regulate my warmth, I glance around the bare town square. A few scattered fae lights still illuminate it to draw people stuck into the cold toward the inn. The fluffy snowflakes swirl in the glowing light as they drift toward the ground. If my body wasn’t about to give out on me, from the cold or exhaustion both, I could appreciate the view for its simple beauty.
So distracted from watching the snow, I don’t register Irian’s return until he’s stroking my leg gently, drawing my attention back to his much-more-relaxed face.
“C’mon, it’s warm in there,” he says softly as he takes a hold of my waist to help me down. Once again, I nearly collapse into the snow-covered ground, but he catches me under the arms.
“M-My legs, I can’t feel them at all,” my voice trembles weakly, and the thin air of the mountains isn’t helping me regain my strength. His breath comes in a strong huff as he pulls me up, hooking at arm around my waist.
“I know, dear, but it’s just a little farther,” he pulls me flush to his side, draping my arm around his shoulder for better support as he wrestles with the straps of the saddlebags with his free hand. “Just through that door and up the stairs, and a nice, warm bed is waiting, alright?” He grunts as he slides a couple of the bags under his free arm and turns us towards the door, my legs stumbling from the shift. Just the thought of the warmth waiting for us encourages my legs to cooperate just enough to take small steps through the snow. “That’s right, keep going,” he whispers into my ear as he concentrates on making sure we don’t end up collapsing into the snow. The praise would be embarrassing if I weren’t so distracted by the feeling of needles digging into the bottoms of my almost-bare feet.
“I-Irian,” my lip quivers from the sharp pain, “I-I can’t,” I whimper pathetically, eyes screwed shut as the pain shoots up my frozen legs. His brows knit together in concern at the change in me.
“Oh, darling, yes, you can. You’ve already come so far. Look,” his voice is soft, though still shaky from the cold, as he nudges the side of my face with the tip of his frozen nose, making me look up to see that we are only feet away from the door. “Just a few more steps.” I muster a nod and force my painful feet to trudge forward, swallowing down the pain. In moments, the door swings open from a swing kick of his foot, and we are bathed in the warmth within, making my chest tighten from relief. He quickly backs me up to a chair next to the door and sits me down, dropping the saddlebags on the floor beside me. After shutting the door behind us, he quickly kneels before me, pulling the cloak’s hood tightly around my face. “That’s a good girl,” he praises as he surveys my frost-etched face. “Wait here, alright? I gotta take the old girl to the stable out back. Warm up and then I’ll help you up the stairs, yeah?” His large hand caresses the top of my head after I give him a short nod and pull the cloak around my frozen frame tightly.
“J-Just hurry,” I whisper, meeting his concerned eyes with my watery ones. The sudden change in temperature has clouded my vision with tears. He nods sharply before standing, giving my shoulder a light pat before stepping away, waving to the woman behind the front desk before stepping back out into the cold.
A large fireplace warms the main hall of the inn, and I’m so thankful it’s not far as I slowly stretch out my frozen legs toward it. The bottoms of the pants I borrowed from Irian’s bag are soaked and dirty from trudging through the snow. I’ll have to take them off to dry overnight once in our room. The hall is decorated sparingly aside from a few mounted heads of beasts from the region, and the lower faerie woman behind the front desk eyes me curiously. She’s wrapped in a large robe to stave off the cold.
“That storm’s been going for quite some time now, Miss. You must be frozen solid,” she chides as she steps out from behind the desk, revealing a small, round pregnant belly accented by how the front of the robe opens to make room. “Let me get you something warm to drink.”
“Y-You don’t need to d-do that. I’ll be warm in no time,” I try to stop her, but she waves me off with a scoff as she steps through a nearby archway, only to return in mere moments with a steaming cup of something. I won’t deny it as she offers it, my frozen hands cupping the mug closely. “T-Thank you.”
“Of course,” she smiles as her eyes wander over me. “You aren’t from around here, are you? You both aren’t dressed for the weather.” At first I don’t know what to say, so I bide some time by stealing a slow sip, recognizing the flavor as an aged tea mixed with honey. It melts me from within and immediately I relax back into the stiff wooden chair.
“No, we aren’t, but we are just passing through,” I say carefully. “It’s an unexpected trip.” She nods understandingly before turning to head back to her desk.
“Well, if you don’t want to wait for your husband, your room is at the top of the stairs.” A cough nearly makes me choke on the tea. What did she just say?
“Oh, um, that’s okay, I told him I’d wait for him here,” I try to keep a level head. I don’t know what he told her in order to get the room or to keep our cover, so playing along seems like the best bet at this point. She hums and gives a nod as she takes a seat behind the desk, giving me one more appraising look.
“Just bring the mug to me when you’re done, and I’ll take care of it.” Her hand goes to her swollen belly as she rests back in her chair. With a sigh, I thank her over the rim of the mug before taking another slow drink. Husband, huh? Aside from my family and the servants in the castle, I have rarely been around males, let alone one with such familiarity. So far, with Irian, it hasn’t been difficult. Being around him has felt much like being with an old friend. He has shown me nothing but kindness since leaving the castle, and it has made today’s whole ordeal easier, if only a little. However, through the lens of pretending he’s my husband, something feels… different. As my limbs warm, I finally become aware that my cheeks are flushed - from warming up or embarrassment, I’m unsure.
The back door swings open and Irian steps in, rubbing his arms for warmth, and another male follows, securing the door behind them.
“Thanks for your help. Couldn’t have done it without ya,” Irian says warmly to the male, earning a nod as he sheds his winter coat.
“Of course. That barn door sticks,” he approaches the woman behind the desk and leans in, stealing a quick kiss. “And you need to get back to bed.” She smiles up at him before taking his hand to stand.
“Get him a drink, would you?” She gives him another peck on the cheek before giving me a wave. “Change of plans! Just leave your mugs on the desk before you head up. I’ll take care of them in the morning.” With that, she slips through another door at the back of the hall. The other male nods to Irian before disappearing through the same archway the woman had before. Now alone, Irian’s gaze meets mine quickly, and he grins as he makes his way over, kneeling before me once again.
“Ah, look at you. Life’s back in your face,” his hands start with rubbing my shoulders but they end up on my knees, which are now poking out of the opening of the cloak. I give him a small smile.
“Thanks to the tea she gave me. It’s life giving,” I tease, offering him the mug to help warm his icy hands, which he takes happily. “So, husband?” It’s barely a whisper, drawing his eyes back to my face. A faint blush flushes across his face as he gauges whether I’m mad or not.
“Sorry about that. I didn’t have enough for two rooms, and it was so much easier to just say we are married to give us cover. I know it was pushing it, but-,” I cut off his hushed explanation by cupping the scarred side of his face in my hand, and he freezes under my touch, eyes widening ever so slightly. In the corner of my eye, I see the other male returning with a couple steaming mugs of tea.
“Shh, it’s okay.” I gesture with my eyes, and thankfully, he catches on, returning my mug to my free hand before turning to accept the mug offered.
“Ah, thank you. This is perfect,” he smiles warmly at the male, earning a nod as he too takes a long drink from his own mug. I let my hand linger on the side of his face briefly before letting it fall to his shoulder, giving it a gentle pat.
“Wasn’t expecting strangers this time of night, let alone in this storm. Where ya headed?” My heart jumps at his prodding, but Irian seems cool and collected.
“I have family in the Night Court. After the Mountain, I’m hoping I can find them there still,” Irian’s tone shifts to almost sadness, and the male makes an almost pained expression in return.
“Damn, that whole thing,” he sighs and his eyes slide to me. “You were there?” I don’t know what to say - I still don’t know much about the Mountain, only bits and pieces from what Galena has told me, when she had the heart to. When my voice gets lodged in my throat, Irian takes my hand and draws the male’s attention away from me.
“No, of course not, but she had family there. Unlucky bastards,” he sighs and sends a glance my way, begging me to play along. It isn’t technically a lie. I know Beron and Mother were there for nearly fifty years, though I barely noticed except for the fact that he never called for me personally.
“Mhmm, now that they’re okay, I feel better about heading that way,” though I try my best to keep my voice steady, the lie dances across my tongue and my voice doesn’t sound as confident as I had hoped.. Irian’s hand encasing mine gives me a squeeze.
“Come, dear, you’re still so cold,” he feigns a concerned pout. The other male nods in understanding and takes our mugs before bidding us goodnight and heading back into what must be the kitchen. Irian sighs through his nose as he watches him leave before quickly turning back to me, leaning in a little too close. “By the Mother, I’m sorry. I should have come up with a better idea. I hope he believed that.” His sudden anxiety earns a head tilt and I can’t help but smile slightly.
“I would have believed it,” I encourage before using his grip on my hand to pull myself to my feet, wincing softly.
“Still hurt?” his brows knit together as he stands, his hand gliding up my arm to hold me firmly under my elbow. His eyes quickly scan me as I steady myself. “I’ll check your feet once we’re in the room, alright?”
“Oh, stop,” I huff. “I’m just sore, really.” With another soft smile, I try to ease his anxiety, but it doesn’t seem to work. Sucking on his teeth for a moment as he glances at the bags and then the stairs.
“Think you can handle those?” My eyes follow his gaze, and I’d be lying if I said yes.
“It’ll be a slow climb, but I can manage,” with a wave of my hand, I gently bat his hand away and take my first few steps on semi-warmed feet. The needle-like feeling is still present, but manageable. Hopefully they’re not frostbitten. Maybe he should check over them after all. With a hand on the railing and the other holding my loose skirts, now untucked from the pants, and the cloak out of the way, the first few steps are slow. Irian quickly scoops up the bags and moves to stand just a few steps behind me, and I feel how his free hand still manages to find me just between my shoulderblades.
“Take your time. I won’t let you fall,” his voice is soft and assuring, and I nod. While it doesn’t take long, I definitely take my time. From the thinner air to my legs being absolutely exhausted, I’m thoroughly worn out, and even with Irian’s sweet affirmations, I refuse to let myself collapse for a third time today. By the time we make it to the top, my legs are trembling painfully, my breath being sucked between gritted teeth. Irian pauses, giving me a quick once over before pushing our door open, keeping a guiding hand on me always.
“C’mon, you’re so close,” he says softly as to not disturb anyone else who may be sleeping upstairs alongside us. With the last of my energy, I will my legs to walk and step into the dark, warm room. It’s small with a full size bed taking up most of the space, a small wood stove nestled in the corner next to a wash basin. After dropping the bags on the foot of the bed and guiding me to join them, gingerly helping me sit, he sets to work getting a fire going. My eyes flit after him as I let the bed cradle my sore lower half.
“I’ll never complain about a bed being uncomfortable ever again,” I sigh contently. His laugh is soft as he snaps twigs from a kindling basket and stacks them neatly in the fireplace.
“And I’ll never complain about the cold,” he shoots me a smile over his shoulder. “Go ahead and get changed. I’ll hang the cloak and pants near the fire to dry.” A blush flushes my cheeks as I recognize the implications of getting undressed, but I nod.
“Alright. Just keep those wandering eyes to yourself,” I tease in a stern tone as my fingers fiddle with the cloak’s fastening. He laughs and returns his focus back to the stove.
“Yes, ma’am,” he teases in return. With a steadying breath, I begin peeling the layers away, first the cloak, then the sweater, his wet and dirty pants. When I get to loosening the lacings on my stays, I can’t help but give him a shy glance, and sure enough, he’s mindfully ignoring me, trying to get a spark to take on the dried twigs. This is fine, I think. We have been fine all evening, so why does this feel… different. I sigh softly as the stays give way, and my breasts sag slightly, no longer supported by the semi-rigid frame of the stays. I never liked having to wear the traditional shapewear the women of the Autumn Court found so attractive. Then again, since I rarely wear them, they hurt me when I do. With quick hands I untie the sash on the skirt and stand to let it pool at my feet, now left in only my chemise and underwear. Again, I glance at Irian, and like he promised, his back is still firmly angled toward me, much to my relief. However, the nervous feeling that pools in my belly triggers me to pick at the skin of my finger. Feeling too naked, I pull the sweater back over my head, my red braid still tucked into the cowl collar.
“Okay, I’m done,” I whisper as I bend to pick up the pants and cloak, leaving my other clothing on the end of the bed. Irian glances back over his shoulder, offering his hand for the wet clothing.
“I’ll have the fire started in just a sec-,” he hesitates as his eyes trail over my bare calves. My heart leaps into my throat when they linger on my feet.
“W-What?”
“Shit, I knew I should have stopped to wrap your toes,” he groans as he turns to appraise my nearly blue skin. “Do they hurt still?” He glances up at me from the floor, and I shyly twiddle with the loose hem of one of the sweater sleeves.
“No, not really. I mean, they sting, but it’s not that bad now we’ve been inside for a bit,” I lean to look down at my feet with him. His large, warm hand ghosts over my still-chilled skin, making me shiver.
“Hm, okay. Sit here,” he directs with a pat on the edge of the bed closest to the stove, which I oblige. “We’ll get these warmed up in no time,” he gives a gentle, reassuring smile before turning back to the stove, doubling his efforts to get the fire going, which doesn’t take long. When a small fire springs to life in the hearth, he quickly fuels it with his breath and some smaller kindling. As it grows, he adds more fuel to the fire - a small stick, then a bigger stick, then a small log once the fire is steady on its own. By the time he closes the door on the stove, leaving the damper slightly open to let the heart out and the air in to keep the fire going, this side of the room is finally starting to warm. I twiddle my feet together to create some movement and friction to get the blood moving again, but when he kneels in front of me once more and takes one into his hands, lifting it up to check the bottoms of them, I can’t stop the blush that rises to my cheeks.
“What are you doing?” I ask softly, trying to resist the urge to pull away as his ginger traces along the tender skin.
“Can you feel that?” he glances up at me once more, his finger continuing to caress the same spot.
“Y-Yeah, a little bit.” I squint to attempt to see what he’s looking at. He hums softly before deepening his touch.
��This then?” Considering I nearly jump out of my skin to pull my foot back from his hold, he takes that as a yes and laughs softly. “Right, okay. I think you’ll be alright with some rest and proper shoes. I’ll make a trade in the morning.” He repeats his test on my other foot and sure enough, by his second press, my leg jerks back. His eyes trace from the discolored skin of my feet up my calves as his touch follows the path his eyes go, only stopping at my knees, which are now bare since my chemise shifted up from my attempts to pull away. Only when his eyes meet mine do I feel completely vulnerable, his hands steadfast on my knees. “How do your legs feel?” It takes a moment to catch my breath.
“Better,” I breathe softly, and he nods.
“Good.” He smiles as he stands upright. “Stay put by the fire, dear. My turn to change.” He steps around the end of the bed to the packs. By now, I’m sure my blush is noticeable, and I’m thankful he doesn’t tease me for it. Focusing my gaze on the subtle glow of the fire that bleeds from the open damper door, I lift my feet up onto the bed, tugging the chemise back down over my legs before hugging them to my chest. Try as I might, I can’t help but listen intently as he fumbles through his bag, and not long after, those sounds are replaced by ones of him unlacing his own clothing, unbuckling his belt, the subtle shifting as he pulls his sweater off just as I just did. In the small room, it’s hard to ignore. Did he listen to me the way I am listening to him? Biting my lip, I try to refocus on the crackle of the fire but fail when the bed dips from the other side as he sits and tugs his boots off and they land with two solid thuds on the wood floor. His content sigh is soft and short-lived before he stands once more, finishing his undressing before pulling on a fresh change of clothes. The blush continues to creep from my cheeks to the tips of my ears, try as I might to settle my nerves. Why does this feel so weird? I’ve been with people before, females mostly, but this isn’t even like that. It’s only when the bed shifts once more as he pulls the blanket back to lay down that my attention is brought back to him.
“I hope sharing a bed isn’t a bother,” he says apologetically as he sits.
“No, it’s fine,” I send a shy glance over my shoulder to find he let his hair out of his ponytail, his fingers working to comb out the knots that formed from it being windswept aggressively for hours.. I shift to face him, gesturing from him to let me help. After a moment of consideration, he nods and turns to offer his back to me, and I meet him halfway on the bed before starting to unpick the knots by hand. His fingers play with the tie that originally kept it secure as I work, that comfortable silence stretching between us. Working from the bottom and making my way up, it takes a few tries but soon my fingers are able to rake through his hair with relative ease, and he sighs contentedly.
“Thank you, princess,” he barely whispers as my fingers make one more pass, finally meeting his scalp, earning a soft soft as he leans into my touch.
“‘Princess,’ huh?” I dig into the tease as I begin to braid his hair loosely to keep it from tangling in his sleep. “Don’t think I didn’t catch that earlier, too.” His laugh is warm and quiet so as to keep from waking our neighbors.
“Oh, you remember that?” he glances over his shoulder. I nod and cast him a stern yet playful glance with a head tilt.
“I’m not a princess, Irian,” I say firmly as I offer my hand for his tie.
“Think of it as a more of a pet name,” he smirks as he hands the tie off over his shoulder, and I secure his hair, giving the braid a quick pet before pulling away.
“There. Shouldn’t be as much trouble tomorrow at least.” I pull back the covers on my side and slide my legs under, being met with the warmth that has built up while I was sitting on top of them. His hand on my arm gives me pause.
“Your turn,” he gestures to my messy braid hidden away in the collar of the sweater. Though I hesitate for a moment, I nod and shift to turn. His hand slips under the base of the braid to unfurl it from the collar, and I realize his hand could easily dwarf the back of my head. His touch is feather-light as he unties the end and begins combing out my soft curls with his long fingers. His soft hum fuels my blush, which I’m thankful I can hide facing away. “So soft.”
“One of the perks of having handmaidens - they take really good care of me,” I pause, the words stinging like a wound as soon as they are said. “They did, at least.” His hands linger for a moment, gently caressing my back as a comfort before returning to combing. “Do you think-,” I swallow back the sudden tears that burn at my water lines. “Do you think Galena is okay?” His response takes longer than I’d like.
“She stayed behind because she knew she could distract or redirect. She’s a strong one, and she is devoted to you,” his words are soft as his fingers begin to caress the back of my scalp before dividing my hair into sections to braid. “If anyone can get through that, it’d be her.” The sudden lump in my throat is hard to swallow as I take slow, shaky breaths to steady myself. “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if she is already following in our tracks.” Without another word, I nod, and Irian slowly finishes the braid. “Now, it’s not a masterpiece, but at least it’s a little neater than it was,” he teases, giving my back a soft push. When I pull it over my shoulder to inspect his work, I can’t help but chuckle. It’s uneven, wonky, and small ends stick out along the length of it, but sure enough, it’s secure enough to sleep in.
“Thank you.” We meet eyes for a moment, and he gives an affirming smile before sliding under the covers.
“Get some rest, Althea. Tomorrow will be another long day.” I nod again before slinking in to join him, keeping a gap between us to respect each other’s space. It doesn’t take long for Irian to quickly doze off, his breathing leveling out. However, despite my exhaustion, sleep evades me. The fear, the worry, the anxiety of everything that is happening all at once swirls through my mind like a storm now that I have a moment of stillness, and for the life of me, I can’t sleep. As time ticks by, I find myself curled up on my side, blanket pulled all the way up to my chin, watching the fire flicker in the stove. The dance of its sparks and its warm cast on the room is comforting. If I were back at the castle, by now, I would be in bed with Galena by my side, snuggled up in a cocoon of warmth fast asleep after yet another long day of looking for letters. That existence feels like an eternity ago.
Irian’s soft groan grabs my attention, but it’s his arm snaking around my waist that makes me flinch.
“Aren’t you tired?” he mumbles half asleep still as he draws me closer to the middle of the bed, pressing himself against my back. My blush returns in full force as his nose brushes the ridge of my shoulder.
“S-Sorry, did I wake you?” A slight shake of his head for a no before he nestles in, his eyes closing as sleep takes over.
“You cold?”
“N-Not exactly. I just can’t sleep.” His arm secures me to his bubble of warmth.
“Close your eyes. Sleep will take you in no time.” And just like that his slumber-weighted breath returns. I’m not going to lie, the warmth radiating off him is nice, unlike my own body which barely seems to have heated under the blankets on its own. With a resigned sigh, I close my eyes, and I don’t remember sleep pulling me under. ~~~
Previous Chapter --- Next Chapter to be continued
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lifeofbrybooks · 1 year
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A Court of Mist and Fury Review
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“To the stars who listen—and the dreams that are answered.”
I will say, ACOMAF is a stronger book than ACOTAR, but that’s not saying much. It’s as if the trash from Book 1 was swept up in a store-brand garbage bag for Book 2.
The story itself is better, though definitely still cringe, and some of the characters finally had personality, but the pacing was once again entirely off balance and inconsistent. Writing continued to be flat and repetitive, Feyre remained fairly bland even though I enjoyed some of her arc, and overall it felt like really cheap drama cocaine. 
I did like it, despite the long list of flaws I'm about to go into and the 2.5 stars I'm giving it. And it pains me to say that.
all my thoughts on ACOMAF by Sarah J. Maas
I meant to explain this in my ACOTAR review, but when I say a book is trash, I’m not telling you not to read it or people shouldn’t like it. I’m practically begging you TO read it. Trash books are fun to read. They allow you to see just how amazing the really good books can be. Read terrible books and love them to pieces. But also, I’m admittedly a hater.
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immortal-enemies · 1 year
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Also I know I've literally never even posted abt it and no one cares but I finally finished ACOTAR
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zoyaofthegardvn · 1 year
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maybe manon and reader scissoring? or thigh riding 💗
Smutty Drabble
A/N: Why not both...? Thanks for the request, anon!
CW: Smut! 18+ plz!
"Fuck, baby, that feel good?" Manon pants, her hands digging into your hips, guiding your movements atop her thigh.
You keen, throwing your head back, resting your hands on Manon's ribcage to keep yourself steady. Manon's thigh is dripping with your essence. She had eaten your pussy, flipped you over, and sat you right on her thigh. "Ride me, sweetheart," she had said, and so you did. You'd started grinding slowly at first, still sensitive from your first orgasm, then Manon had started pinching your nipples and sucking marks onto your tits, and your hips began working faster.
Manon flexes her thigh, raising it a bit to get you a better angle, and her eyes lock on your pretty pink cunt, smearing your cum and her spit all over her pale skin. She reaches behind you and lands a gentle smack to your ass, and she smirks when you grunt and groan.
"You gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna make a mess all over my thigh?"
You nod your head furiously, riding her harder, faster. "Feels s-so good, Manon, m'gonna cum," you moan, and dig your nails into her flesh. Exactly as she likes.
"Give it to me, be a good girl and cum for me," Manon says, sitting up and getting an eyeful of your breasts as they bounce from the movements of your thrusts.
Her words send you over the edge, and you see stars as you climax. Your movements slow down as your body tenses, and Manon makes sure to grip your ass and your hips to keep you moving. You pant, moan, and whine, and you think you mumble Manon's name.
When you come down, you slump forward, wrapping your arms around Manon's neck. She falls back and you lay on top of her, breathing hard. She rubs your back, pushes your hair off your forehead, and kisses your hairline. She's being incredibly tender this evening, making love to you.
In your exhaustion, you place a few sloppy kisses to her chest, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. She hums, and you lay there, blissful for just a few moments, before Manon is again, flipping you over.
You look at her in surprise, and she sends you a wicked smile. "We're not done yet, baby," she says, and pulls your legs apart.
Your eyes widen, you bite your lip. "Be gentle, m'so sensitive," you pout, and she leans forward to plant a quick kiss to your lips. "Of course, baby," she says against you, knowing tonight isn't the night to push too far.
She throws one of her legs over yours, and pulls your other one to fit snugly into her. Then, she lowers her pussy onto you.
She's been dripping since she got you naked, and your cum is still wet and sticky. The friction is smooth and delicious, and Manon starts fucking you slowly, at first.
You release quiet little moans that Manon finds adorable, and she can't help but kiss you. She moans into your mouth, your tongues tangle, and then she pulls back so she can brace herself and fuck you harder.
You whimper as her pace picks up, reaching up to squeeze her tits. She moans, muttering quiet "fucks" under her breath. The sound of your pussies rubbing together is lewd, and your hips start bucking involuntarily, meeting Manon's thrusts.
"You like it when I fuck you like this?" Manon asks, a cocky grin on her face.
"Your pussy feels so good, fuck," you groan, looking down to see where you two are joined.
"Mmmm, yeah? Who fucks you this good?" She asks, watching your eyes flutter back at her dirty talk.
"You Manon, only you," you pant.
She starts rubbing faster, harder, her clit meeting yours. You jolt at the intense pleasure, and you can tell Manon's close by her grunts, groans, her flushed chest and the fact that she's biting her lip raw.
"M'gonna cum," you cry out, "you gonna cum with me?" you ask, knowing the answer already.
"Fuck yes, baby, cum for me," she nearly yells, as her orgasm catches her by surprise.
A few thrusts later, you cum, too. Both of your moans fill the room, and Manon works both of you through your climaxes, slowing her pace but still working your throbbing clit.
Both of you are breathing hard, and you wince at the overstimulation before Manon pulls off of you, throwing her sweaty hair behind her shoulders.
She lays down next to you, and you turn to your side to face her.
"That was..." you say between heaving breaths, unable to put into words how she'd just made you feel.
She laughs, and says, "Felt good, then?" as if you'd say 'no.'
You smile, and cuddle into her chest. Her arms wrap around you, smoothing over your back, your legs, her fingers combing through your hair. After a few minutes, you drift off into a satisfied sleep.
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bryceandhunt · 2 years
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“Apollion, Prince of the Pit”
Interesting that SJM named the darkest prince of Hel after a sun/light god like Apollo
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nestaismommy · 1 year
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Feysand gives me Leonardo DiCaprio and his supposed 19 girlfriend vibes.
☠️☠️☠️ no because it’s so freaking icky
I’m not against Feyre having children, I love mama Feyre but she was like….21 and compared to Rhysand, who is 500+ years old, she’s basically a child. It just rubs me the wrong way. Throughout the whole series, it never felt like I was reading about an adult, she is so young and isn’t really that mature. Which is why her being high lady never made sense. She’s so easily manipulated, she makes a lot of bad decisions, she assumes all the time, she changes her mind 24/7. She’s bad at communicating and relies on mind-raping people, When someone just shows her a little bit of kindness, she automatically thinks they are good. She makes so many mistakes, and she thinks she’s right when she isn’t. She’s so me. And I’m seventeen.
It’s kind of similar with Elain too, because she’s such a baby and I genuinely don’t mean that in a bad way, I don’t hate her or anything but compared to Azriel, he’s so mature, he’s a grown up, and she’s like a kid. It makes me uncomfy. Or maybe I misunderstood and I just need to read from her POV
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All men have is the audacity
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You know what hurts?
That Nesta had loved Cassian since she'd first laid eyes on him.
That she had loved him even when she did not want to.
Even when she had been swallowed by despair and fear and hatred.
And she destroyed herself because she didn't believe she deserved him.
Because he was all that was good,
and brave,
and kind,
and she loved him.
She loved him.
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