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historiaxvanserra · 5 months

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These Violent Delights | An Eris Vanserra story

Summary: At a ball in Hewn City, you meet your match in Eris Vanserra

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron!Reader (brief mentions of Azriel x reader)

Word Count: 7.6k

Previously called If I Can’t Have Love, I Want Power. I changed the name to adapt if from a one shot into a series.

You had been born on a night like this, you think. The storm-streaked clouds line the heavens like flowering hydrangeas as they dissolve into a black abyss and the moonlight shines like pearls on the water where the horizon meets the Sidra.

Storm-streaked they had called you.

When you were a little girl, your father had told you that you had come into this world in the same way as the old Gods had. Born from the merciless depths of some unknowable blue-darkness; cruel and beautiful, and fearless.

Now fear is all you know.

The crack of forked white lightening against the darkening horizon pushes you further into introspective thought. The visions come with the quiet; flashes of silver and gold and the icy embrace of the water. That infernal cauldron and what it had taken from. It haunts you, even in dreaming.

Of late, the days seem to pass in a state of perpetual purgatory, marred by memories and the water– an unforgiving tempest that tears through you.

The water cleanses but it also devastates.

Your father had once called you water; the salt and the sea.

You had always wondered what that meant.

But here you stand-- a storm incarnate; volatile, half-wild and isolating. And who can become the water without inheriting its violence, or its loneliness?

The feeling of harsh violet eyes on you is enough to drag you gaze from your spot near the balcony and the storm as it rages outside.

“Are you ready, Nesta?” Rhysand’s voice is velvet night as it reverberates around the small waiting room.

A chill runs down your spine when you catch his eyes, glinting and violet in the dim light. You regard Nesta cooly as she tilts her chin upwards.

“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Nesta’s eyes are lined with kohl and looking at her is like looking into the eye of a storm.

She always had an austere kind of beauty that left you speechless.

Rhysand only nods simply before taking Feyre’s arm and approaching the large doorway. Nesta and Elain fall into rank behind them with practiced ease. It is you who hovers awkwardly in the background for a moment before taking your place in the middle of the formation. A solitary figure amongst them.

You swallow thickly and you catch the lingering scent of a night chilled mist as you bristle. A whisper of night wraps itself around you like a cold comfort. These days his scent seems to follow you like a shadow; though, you suppose when you’ve spent every night this week wrapped around him, trying to drown out your own thoughts, there is bound to be a trace of him that lingers there.

At last, the towering doors to the throne room yawned open.

The throne room is lined with black candles and evergreen wreaths frame the doorway, and moonflowers climb up the high, onyx pillars like ivy. And on each side of the aisles there were two magnificent banquet tables, piled high with food enough to feed a city. Though it was not to be touched without express permission from the High Lord.

A ripple of dark power reverberates through the mountain as The High Lord and Lady enter the throne room. You swear you feel the mountain wail in their presence. It is a powerful thing and you feel something within yourself begin to stir with it.

A cold rage as it makes a home in your chest.

The courtiers pale as they approach, parting like the tide as their High Lord and High Lady brush through them, crowned in silver crystals and garbed in midnight black robes.

Rhysand looks beautiful you think as your eyes find him in the procession-- he stands tall against you all, his hair perfectly quaffed and the rich scent of mandarin and night-blooming jasmine seems to follow him.

All that pales in comparison to Feyre; the dress she wears is like tangible shadow. Gossamer thin silk and tulle that glitters with flecks of silver starlight, all gathered about her waist with a thin belt that accentuates the swell of her stomach.

The room beholds her with baited breath; a sense of awe and ire.

She looks like the visage of some ancient Goddess of the moon; pale and beautiful in the silvery light.

You sense a shift in the air as they approach the dias and Rhysand’s shoulders tense; he is a picture of male pride. There is a dangerous quality to it that chills you to the bone. A cold violence that feels almost kindred to you. Feyre’s full red lips part and she smiles until it seems to dampen Rhys’s anger as he reaches for her as they climb the steps of the onyx dias.

Keir’s face is twisted in a half-grimace, somewhere between astonishment and anguish. Behind him the Eris Vanserra remains fixed in place, his face set in a painfully neutral expression as he regards the High Lord and Lady.

Motion from behind you beckons you to move as Nesta and Elain fall into step with you and begin to pace the length of the aisle and approach the dias.

All three of you are dressed in Night Court black. A symbol of your place amongst the royal family. A warning of the dark power which you all possessed. Stolen and gifted from that cauldron. A reminder of your value. It is a carefully rehearsed routine as Nesta takes her place between you both, the flare of her skirts bushing against the marble floor with each long stride. You and Elain flank her sides like two wraiths.

Elain looks sallow in black, you think as you catch her eyes. A poor initiation of the coldness you wear so well etched onto her beautiful face and steely determination in her dark, rich eyes.

Nesta outshines you all tonight-- her golden hair braided into a crown atop her head and a delicate crown glints in the lantern light, slender spikes jutting forward in a dark corona. Her wicked eyes glinted like cobalt in the light. She’s dressed all in black. The gown itself is skin tight and embroidered with intricate silver brocade, twisting vines and moonflowers adorn the velvet bodice, tracing the curve of her breasts and sinking low, to her navel where the silver thread gathers about a sapphire that matches the crystals on her crown.

Nesta is a cruel beauty; enough to bring a God to his knees.

And Cassian looks about ready to sink to his knees before her as you regard him on the dias.

Nestas moves with a feline grace, expressive and smirking as she takes her place between Cassian and Elain on the platform.

Feyre and Rhysand sink into their thrones with a measured grace and from your stop between Elain and Azriel you can see all the eyes in the room as they flit from one member of the Inner Circle to the next.

But it is the strange amber gaze of Eris Vanserra that you meet in the gathering crowd. He offers you a courteous nod and the ghost of a smirk graces his full lips and you send a scathing look in his direction in return.

You hope he feels the bitter sting of your coldness as your eyes try to find anything else in the throne room to focus on.

Azriel rolls on the balls of his feet as the silence settles in the room and he inches so close to you that you feel the scarred pads of his fingers brush the exposed skin of your back.

“You look good in black,” his voice is impossibly quiet, almost inaudible as he dips low enough that he is speaking into the shell of your ear.

A cold chill runs up the length of your spine.

“Thank you, Shadowsinger,” You say simply, a feral smile on your lips as you bare your teeth to him.

A laugh sharp and cruel rings through you and Azriel’s hand tangles in the lengths of your hair tugging sharply.

“You are most welcome,” Azriel agrees, his voice is like shadow and wind as it graces your ears “most welcome indeed.”

Azriel steps back into line as Rhysand stands to address the crowd.

Your own spine straightens as though it is muscle memory by now. Obedience. To bend and break as the High Lord and Lady saw fit.

Rhysand looks like Night Triumphant as he regards his uncle with a strange union of cruelty and cordiality. Recently Rhys and Feyre had softened slightly with the people of Hewn City. Keir in particular. They can’t afford to isolate him from court politics-- in case the need arises for his Darkbringers to fight again. Hence the fact Rhysand even abides his presence at all. Rhysand’s cruel gaze lingers just a touch too long though. A careful reminder of the fate he’ll earn if he ever decided to go against Rhys.

It’s been months since you’ve been to Hewn City, longer since you involved yourself in court politics. Longer still, since any whispers of the Trove or Briallyn reached you. Though you aren’t naive enough to believe it is over.

None of the Inner Circle are.

That is why you find yourself in Hewn City tonight. Swathed in the sallow light, and painted like a pretty whore; all red lips and dark eyes, with trembling hands, wanting nothing more than to be back in that little cabin with your sisters by your side-- as you were when you were girls.

Feyre rises to her feet to join Rhys and she addresses the crowd, “May the blessings of the Winter Solstice be upon you.”

The crowd seems to hum in acknowledgement and then they bow in a show of deference.

Or blind obedience.

Your eyes meet the strange amber gaze of Eris Vanserra once more, and it is you he looks at when he kneels.

Keir slinks forward, offering your sister a low bow, “Allow me to extend my congratulations, High Lady.” His voice drips with false flattery as he dips his chin in a show of esteem.

Eris Vanserra moves like a predator as he stalks forward, offering your sister a devastating, cultivated smile that feels almost authentic. “And allow me to extend my sincerest wishes, on behalf of my father and the entire Autumn Court.”

Rhysand’s mouth curls into a wicked half smile, his eyes darken to an amethyst color as she speaks “I’m sure your father will be most pleased for us.”

The implication that hands in the air is a dangerous one and you can feel the color drain from you at the terse exchange. A few more beast of silence and--

“Music,” The High Lord calls out and the orchestra from behind the mezzanine begins to play lightly, the sounds of lyres and harps ring through the air.

Feyre once again addresses the crown, every inch the High Lady, “Go--eat--enjoy.” The crowd of silent courtiers disperse throughout the room as they aim to take their places at the tables.

Each banquet table is piled high with an obscene amount of food and you find yourself feeling ashamed of the blatant opulence before you. When once you had nothing. Now you live without wanting. It makes you feel ashamed. How your old self would resent this wasteful indulgence.

Turning away from the feasting courtiers you turn inwards towards the thrones on the dias.

Now only Eris and Keir remain standing before the High Lord and Lady. You notice how neither of the men has deigned to acknowledge Morrigan’s presence behind the thrones. She looks ethereal and savage as she smirks down at them, her lips look as though they are stained wine red.

Blood red, you think.

The Illyrain’s at either side of you and your sisters look more like beasts carved into the dark stone of the mountain than anything else. Azriel and Cassian are clad in black armor, each adorned in ruby and sapphire to match their siphons that glow faintly in the low light. The brothers look as though they are the visage of some Gods of old; statuesque and hard-faced as they regard the Autumn Prince.

Cassian in particular looks like he might invoke some of that ancient power to stop Eris from dancing with Nesta tonight. He had not objected but, how could he? Rhys was his brother and his High Lord. Obedience is easier than the alternative.

And the fate of The Night Court-- his home-- could rest on Eris’ alliance. So he will bite his tongue in the knowledge that what Eris offers is a chance at defeating Briallyn and Koschei.

From your spot you watch the Autumn Prince with piqued curiosity. He will not stop looking at you and it is infuriating.

It brings a cold anger bubbling to the skin's surface; all biting fury and icy violence.

The conversation between Keir and Rhys seems to come to a natural end and the lull in the conversation has the whole room falling into silence, waiting for their next order. Like puppets.

And your sister the puppet master, pulling the strings as she commands, her voice like thunder at midnight, “Dance--”.

The courtiers like a midnight sea part and pair off in swathes of dark silk and velvet. Even Keir retreats into the crowd and pairs off with a dark haired female.

Eris turns on his heels, the wrap of his riding boots against the floor echo through your head.

“Before you join in the merriment, Eris,” Rhy’s voice is a velvet drawl as he presents a long black box, “I’d like to present you with your Solstice gift.”

You swallow hard and step forward. Procuring the box from Rhysand you press forward, one long stride that brings you face to face with the Autumn Prince and for the first time you truly look at him.

A night-kissed wind envelops the pair of you, enough to wrap behind Eris blocking the dias from view of the dancing courtiers.

Eris Vanserra is devastating; he has a cruel sort of beauty, with a strong jaw and high cheekbones that look sharp enough to cut into you, but his eyes are soft and unwavering. He is a strange juxtaposition.

Eris arches a brow at Rhysand and you flip open the carved lid of the box. Eris stiffens, his voice low and dangerous.

“What is this?” he asks, somewhere between disbelief and wariness.

“A present,” Rhysand clarifies and you catch a glimpse of ruby and gold on the hilt of the dagger.

You refrain from grimacing at the truth you are confronted with. Rhysand and your sister want to sell off Nesta like a broodmare and her Made weapons with her.

A truly beautiful piece. And dangerous too.

Like Eris, something in you calls.

Eris’ hand hovers over the open box and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“You sense its power, then?” Feyre asks voice dripping with a sense of smugness that does not suit her in the slightest.

Eris nods carefully, his eyes flicking to the High Lord and Lady before finding yours again.

“There’s flame in it,” he says, hand still hovering over the weapon. As if something in him senses its true power. He closes the lid abruptly. “Why give it to me?”

Feyre smiles lightly and shrugs, “You’re our ally.”

Feyre rests a protective hand over the swell of her stomach, “You face enemies that exist outside of the usual rules of magic. It’s only fair to grant you a weapon that operates outside of those rules too.”

You stand transfixed by the twitch of his jaw and the bob of his throat as he considers her words.

“It is truly made then?” He asks, carefully. His eyes never leave yours and it is your voice that answers his question.

“It is, My Lord.” your voice comes out all cold and gravelly, unlike yourself.

Rhysand speaks again though the beating of your heart renders him almost mute, “From my personal collection. An heirloom of sorts.”

“All this time,” Eris’ voice is dark and thoughtful, “ all these years you possessed a Made weapon and you kept it hidden.”

“Even during the war,” Eris says more to himself than anyone else.

There is a dangerous sense of anger and skepticism in the air as Eris examines the weapon again, his hand once more runs over the length of the dagger, his fingers barely ghosting the cool metal.

“Don’t take our generosity for granted,” Feyre offers in warning, her voice quiet and threatening.

Eris stills and nods in acknowledgement. He extends a smile that looks courteous enough to be genuine and once more allows his finger to run over the smooth length of the blade. “Thank you,”

“Might I leave it in your safekeeping while I dance, My Lady?” Eris’s voice seems distant and far away and it takes a moment for you to realize that he is speaking directly to you.

You look at him coldly, unable to muster the warmth of genuine affection when he is looking at you like that. It is infuriating. That someone so cruel might also be so insufferably handsome.

“Yes, My Lord.”

Feyre nods to Rhys and Eris in acknowledgement and against your better judgment you let your eyes linger over the graceful curve of his calves and up over the contours of his muscled thighs, all the way up over the broad expanse of his chest and finally becoming entangled in the unbound curls of copper hair as he sweeps it over his shoulder.

Devilishly and devastatingly handsome. Sun-blood handsome.

Feyre’s soft lilt brings you back to reality as she says “Use it well, Lord.”

Your sister's smile curves into a soft smile at Eris and extends a hand to him, “Ordinarily I would ask you to dance, but my condition has left me quite unwell.” Feyre makes a show of looking between the two sisters who stand in line with Cassian and Azriel.

Elain, at least, has the good grace to give the impression of seeming interested. Nesta though looks bored. As though she is only half listening. As though they hadn’t just given away the dagger she’d Made.

Perhaps it was the way that Nesta’s grey eyes had drifted away from the dancing sea of courtiers, or the forlorn look on Cassian’s face as he stood on the dias, but either way it made you realize something. That maybe the Illyrian General meant more to Nesta than she would ever let on. More than that dagger-- more than magic or power or court politics.

Feyre notes the direction of Nesta’s stare and then looks between you and Eris. The corners of her lips twitch in nervous anticipation as her eyes settle on you.

“My lovely sister shall take my place.” Feyre nods to you and for a moment you let the icy wrath in your stare settle over her before dipping your head to her.

Eris’ throat bobs as you assess him with that same cold gaze. A slender hand takes the Made dagger from you and you hold out a hand to him.

He extends a sculpted arm out to you, his large hand wrapping around you as you yield to him. His long, deft fingers brush against yours; his skin is warm to the touch and even in the pallid light it is clear and pale, with golden hues that compliment the warm depths of his eyes. Your chest grows taut and you feel emotion course through you with the force of a raging tempest.

You loose a breathy gasp and for a moment you exist somewhere outside of yourself. You hear Eris’ voice, a warm, low timbre as he utters your name. He offers you his arm as you descend from your spot on the onyx dias. The sound of your slippers echo in the silent chamber. Eris’s face is set in a painfully neutral expression and you try your hardest to mirror it. Hoping he will not see the storm raging inside of you. You think of Nesta and the way she moves with such thoughtful grace and so you copy it; your chin tilted high and each step becomes a glide as you reach the edge of the marble dance floor.

The eyes of the courtiers fall onto you.

You feel the heat of Eris stare as it burns into the side of your face-- you feel a pair of violet eyes on you too. A cold chill spreads through you when his talons scrape dangerously and then you see him in your mind's eye. What a dangerous turn of events.

Dangerous? You had never considered yourself as something dangerous.

Nesta might have seduced Eris, but you will bring him to his knees. Rhysand’s cold tenor rattles around your mind and for a moment you see him standing at the precipice of a cliff as the storm rolls in, and the jagged rocks below look like the opening of a Helmouth.

There is no doubt that Nesta is more beautiful. With a feline sort of beauty; long legs and a graceful neck, all angular and steely eyed. Nesta had inherited the aristocratic sort of beauty that your mother possessed. You had always been half-wild, unapproachable and--

Well, it is your mother’s voice that resounds in your head, of two sisters one is always the dancer and one the watcher.

Tonight the roles reverse as you take your place in the middle of the dance floor. You will bring him to his knees.

You catch Azriel’s eye as the instrumental music fades into momentary silence. From his spot on the dias he looks like a dark God; and he looks like he might just tear Eris to blood ribbons when his hand wraps around your waist.

Eris brings you so close to him that you're pressed against him and as the harp begins to play, high and sweet, he smiles softly at you. As if the notes of music wrap around you, you raise your palm to his flat and open, an invitation if he has even seen one.

The low stringed instruments usher in the music like a coming storm, a summons to the dance in a rushing of music, like water. You remind yourself to smile wickedly at Eris as he slides a broad hand over the curves and divots of your waist and hips. You lift your head high and, looking up into his perfect face you bare your teeth to him. All ruby red lips and pearls and he smiles so wickedly that you’re not sure who is supposed to be seducing who.

Those strange amber eyes-- so haunting in the faelight.

The harps and lyres sing so beautifully in the air and when the violins begin to play, it feels like a siren song in the air. A beckoning. As your body moves with the ebb and flow of the dancing tide.

Eris leads you into the waltz, he moves with practiced ease. He knows every note, every trough and swell of the music, each nuance and note.

Nesta would outdance you everytime. This you know. She moves like the music becomes her. And in so many ways it does. Her body bends to the will of the orchestral sound, and it bends to her too.

So you will have to play it differently.

The music sweeps you up in it’s tide, and as the music swells you decide to surrender yourself to the water. Let it wash all over you. Your body, once rigid and taut, goes pliant in Eris’ arms. You let the orchestral sound drown out your doubts and give yourself over to it. To him. His fingers ghost the line of your spine and he pushes you further still, against him. So close that you feel your heartbeat in tandem and your body bends to his will.

It is easier to bend than to break.

Better to relinquish control than have it taken from you.

Eris’ eyes widen and soften then-- as if he feels it too-- you feel his hands loosen before tightening again around you. Somehow different now. Somehow, strangely, comforting.

He moves with such grace and skill, his body reacts to every fluttering note and pause in the music. And the whole time his eyes are on you. And you can’t look away. The dark, warm depths of his eyes like a slow-burning fire that consumes all in its wake.

You find the faces of your family in the crowd and you see that their normally composed demeanor seems to have shifted, their eyes wide and jaws slack as you move with the tide.

Tonight you are the storm and the fire will bend to you.

You will bring him to his knees, you think. As the music washes over you.

Has there ever been such a haunting and mournful sound in all the world? Your name falling from Eris’mouth perhaps.

The snippets of the music Nesta had described to you, from her memory of the Veritas, paled in comparison. It flows and swims around you, filling you like water, and if you let it, it could be enough to drown you. To sink into the depths of the high-arching song.

Eris smiles again when you fall into step with him so effortlessly, like you are an extension of him.

One soul in two bodies.

His broad hand tightens over the flare of your hip, his fingers flexing before digging into the malleable flesh. The smile you give him feels much too vulnerable and genuine to bring you any sort of comfort.

Eris' amber eyes shine with feral delight and you see yourself reflected in his eyes; you look like sin personified. The dark material of your dress gathers about your waist, held in place only by velvet ribbon and a few embroidered onyx crystals. The deep cut of the dress is so low that it bares the ample curve of your breasts and your strain to catch your breath because of how tight the dress has been laced.

The person you see in Eris’eyes looks like the incarnation of some ancient deity; dark and cold, and cruel. And beautiful.

Eris’ broad hand spreads across the middle of your back, pressed firm between your shoulder blades and you burn beneath him. As the music lulls and flutters his gaze locks onto yours and flame simmers in those dark topaz eyes and a smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. Cat-like and feral as he dips you low, supporting your weight in his arms. His face comes to hover over yours and you’re transfixed by his unyielding stare.

Beautiful and haunting eyes.

One hand is wrapped around his neck and the other you bring to touch his cheek with the tenderness of someone who has never truly been touched. His face falters and something akin to raw vulnerability flashes in his eyes.

Bring him to his knees.

In one swift movement Eris sweeps you so that you are standing upright, pressed so close to his chest that you feel each groove and divot of his sculpted chest. You place that same hand over his blazing heart and as the music filters into stunned silence, Eris eyes you with feral delight.

For a moment, as the heaving in your chest subsides you allow yourself to remain in his tender grasp. His fingers ghosting the curve of you hip and the small of your back, rubbing slow, deliberate circles into the skin there.

The faces of the courtiers turn upon you.

You, this once-human female, barely out of girlhood, who had been thrust into this world of dark power and politics.

Who stood before them now, coloured in the murky green hues of Hewn City.

Storm-streaked girl.

It is like being born again and the mountain trembles in your wake.

The eyes of your High Lord and Lady land on you and Eris at the foot of the dias. Rhysand rises in his seat and his violet eyes meet yours and something wicked and enchanting flashes in them. Feyre regards you with a wild smile and she laughs before tipping her head to you in acknowledgement.

And in a show of secret defiance you plunge into the deepest curtsey you can manage; your chest still rising and falling with a dramatic flare, and your skirts pool around you like inky shadows as you sink low onto the marble. You dip your chin ever so slightly, never quite breaking eye contact with the cruel violet gaze that assesses you with a dangerous glint.

A laugh of dark joy bursts from Eris beside you who in turn, offers his own small bow before capturing you again in his firm hold as the orchestra begins to play again.

Your mother had always wanted a Prince for Nesta, and yet, here you were-- beautiful, cruel and merciless, with the Autumn Prince sinking into the cold depths of your eyes.

Everyone who has ever loved you has underestimated you. But looking into Eris’ eyes you see something kindred to you.

You will bring them all to their knees.

Eris' amber eyes gleam with want as he takes you in again and you loose a shaky breath as he leads you into the next dance.

The music is soft and light, the strings sing a song so aching and mournful that you feel once again overcome with it. All of your violent coldness, all that biting fury, rendered a useless ruse as the music becomes you.

Eris might be the monster they all say he is, but looking at him now, in the soft light, you see something else.

“Trust Rhysand to keep such a beautiful creature to himself.” Eris’ amber eyes study you carefully.

You school your face to remain neutral, with just a touch of scorn as you bite back.

“If beauty is all you can see, My Lord” You say, your voice dark and taunting, “I fear you have missed the point entirely.”

“Intelligent too,” Eris chuckles darkly and wraps a wisp of your unbound hair around his forefinger, “and dangerous.”

You don’t deign to reply though Eris continues his assessment of you, his eyes trailing over you, afire with dark promise.

“I’ve seen you before though,” Eris asks as he steps into the next part of the song, “haven’t I?”

His eyes narrow on you and you think back to the last time you saw Eris Vanserra.

“At the High Lords meeting,” You say quietly, your voice thick with shame as you recall the meeting some months back.

You had been little more than a wraith then, when the dreams of drowning in that cauldron plagued you nightly, a girl gulping on a woman’s grief. Now those dreams only come with the coming of a storm. A warning or some ill-fated omen.

“The time since the way has changed you.” It is not a question but a statement.

You don’t smile at him like you should. Instead you meet Eris’ burning stare with a measured look of your own, “For the better, I hope?”

Eris thinks for a moment, as if looking for the right words to express his meaning.

“You are a Goddess.” he says slyly gesturing to the dress as the skirts brush against him, baring the slit in the thigh to him.

“Then kneel to me.” You say, not missing a beat as Eris laughs wickedly and brings his mouth to hover over the shell of your ear.

“It seems you came to play the game tonight, afterall.” Eris says, his voice a low murmur in your ear.

He spins you again, quick and violent before you crash back into him again, “don’t believe the lies they tell you about me.”

“But I should believe you?” You ask, arching a brow to the cruel prince.

“You shouldn’t believe anyone here, Little fox.” Eris tips his head towards the dias where Mor watches the pair of you from her spot besides the High Lord and Lady.

“The Morrigan knows the truth,” Eris insists, “though she has never revealed it.”

“Why?” You ask curiously.

“Because she is afraid of it.” Eris’ voice is tempered and quiet and he casts the Inner Circle a look of his own, “they all are.”

Your mouth twitches with the ghost of a smirk as you press yourself further into him, “You don’t do yourself any favors with this mask you wear.”

“Don’t I? I’ve managed to ally myself to this court, under constant threat of being discovered by my father-- do you have any idea what he’d do to me if he found out, Little fox?” Eris asks, the fire within him lighting and flickering in his amber eyes. “I ally myself with this court, I offer aid when I can, I placate Rhysand with ceremonies and shows of deference. Why do you think that is?”

Eris dips you again and the fan on his unbound hair brushes against your bare shoulders.

“Because there’s something in it for you.” It isn’t a matter of question. You know it to be true and you see it in the way that Eris regards you with a mixture of fondness and caution.

“Because there is something in it for me,” Eris confirms, “and tell me, what is in it for me?”

“What is it that you want, My Lord?” You ask, fluttering dark lashes at him and the music swells.

“What is Rhysand offering?” Eris counters and leads you further into the center of the floor.

“Nothing that I have the power to grant you.”

Eris laughs, the sound like silk on your skin and you shiver as he brings his lips to graze your ear, “I very much doubt that, Little fox?”

You swallow thickly and a surge of dark power pricks at your skin. You let him see it; all that cold rage, and the violence of the sea.

Eris' face twists but not from fear and a strange look of reverence shines in his eyes.

The waltz comes to a close and as the music fades into the chatter of the courtiers he whispers into your ear once more.

“They say your sister Elain is the beauty, but you are something else entirely.” His breath is hot and sacred on your neck, and a broad hand strokes the bare skin of your back and you find yourself arching into him.

Eris takes a step back from you, holding your hand above your head and turning you slowly as his eyes roam the curves and contours of your body, “You are wasted in the Night Court,”

“Truly wasted.” His voice is a low whistle as you stop in front of him now.

“And where might I be used more effectively, My Lord?”

Eris chuckles again but before he can answer--

“Get your hands off her, Eris.” Azriel’s voice is like cold death that cuts through the spell that Eris has you under. His wrath comes off him in waves that crash against you, halting your movements.

The dancing sea around you seems to cease to move as Eris and Azriel lock eyes.

Eris straightens his back and he closes his hand over yours-- gently, almost protectively-- and he locks his eyes onto Azriel.

Hazel and amber meet and shadow and light seem to dance in the air. The courtiers wait with baited breath.

“I don’t take orders from the likes of you, Shadowsinger.”

You stifle a snarl as you look at Azriel. Who does he think he is? He has no claim over you. He had made that much clear when you started this thing. A means to an end. A placeholder for another sister.

“Am I to understand that you’d like to dance, Azriel?” You ask cooly, trying not to let your violet rage show in the darkness of your eyes.

“Yes.” His voice is insistent and thick with jealousy and the promise of violence.

Before you can pull yourself from Eris’ protective grip, Azriel is tugging on your wrist and bringing you into his side.

Eris bares his teeth to Azriel and fire dances in those strange amber eyes. “Go sit at your master’s feet, dog.”

Azriel laughs darkly and his shadows become a violent wisp of dark that wraps itself around you in a possessive manner.

You swallow down the shame that you feel when Eris looks at you -- like all the power you had just moments ago has been ripped away from you, and now you are just another piece on the board to be bought and sold as your High Lord saw fit.

A pretty whore, painted like some dark Goddess.

You band an arm across Azriel’s chest as he lunges forward in a flurry of movement.

“It’s alright,” you offer Eris an apologetic smile, “I’ve taken too much of your time already.” You say diplomatically, taking Azriel’s hand in your own and pulling away from Eris.

Feyre and Rhysand had given up one of Nesta’s Made daggers in the name of Eris’ continued alliance, surely, one interrupted dance will not jeopardize it.

Eris offers you a taut smile and he bows his head to you, “Very well then, we’ll play later, Little Fox.”

Eris doesn’t so much as acknowledge Azriel as he ventures towards the dias again.

Azriel holds you in place, one hand wrapped around your shoulders and he searches you as if looking for signs of injury. His touch is cold and biting.

“Happy now?” you roll your eyes at him.

Azriel stares coldly at you, his face set like stone, as if carved into the dark stone of the mountain, “not in the slightest.”

You glance hesitantly over his shoulder and see Rhysand and Feyre each sharing a look of subtle fury. Azriel will no doubt be on the receiving end of a mental lashing. If Azriel has cost them this alliance it comes down on you too-

“He touched you and I-,” Azriel’s voice is weighted and serious at the same time you speak out.

“Whatever has passed between us,” you say gesturing between you and him, “it has to end, Azriel.”

If Azriel felt anything at all but cold indifference his face does not show it.

“Because of Eris?” Azriel asks incredulously, his tone full of venom.

“No, of course not,” You say truthfully, “because we are fools to think this will ever be enough.”

A beat of silence lingers in the air between you.

“For either of us.”

Azriel takes a moment to think about it and you see the recognition flash in his darkening hazel eyes, he looks over his shoulder in Elain’s direction. Carefully, measured, he looks at you again.

“You want Elain.” You say matter of factly, even with a hint of sadness, “don’t deny it-- and I…” your voice trails into nothing. An errant whisper of power.

“And what do you want?” Azriel asks, his voice once dark and cruel is something akin to familial.

“I’m not sure yet.” you say thoughtfully, looking back to the dias where everyone regards you and Azriel warily.

Azriel softens and he lets go of your arms and hides his scarred fingertips in the pockets of his dark colored tunic. He runs a hand over his face in regret and looses a shaky breath before laughing again.

“Rhys is going to fucking slaughter me.” Azriel says and you laugh quietly, muttering in agreement as you link arms with his and lead him through the dancing sea of courtiers to the wine table.

Azriel takes a goblet in each hand and offers one to you. The wine is dark and red and stains your lips like blood. The taste is woody and spiced, it tastes a little like Autumn. Azriel leans into the onyx pillar and angles himself away from the prying eyes of the courtiers as they dance.

You’re at his side and move so that his body obstructs the view of Rhysand and Feyre, shunning their ire.

“How pissed do you think they’ll be?” You ask grimly.

“With you?” Azriel asks, cocking a brow in confusion. You only nod and wait for him to continue. Azriel swallows a large mouthful of wine, wiping his mouth with the back of a scarred hand “not at all, you did them a favor-- practically had Eris on his knees.”

“Good.” You meet his eyes and for the first time tonight you feel as though you might just have something to offer.

“Be careful with Eris,” Azriel says gently, his hand on your arm, “not everything he says is to be trusted.”

“But I can trust you?” You ask, thinking back to what Eris had said earlier in the evening.

“Always.” Azriel says.

The orchestral music comes to a dramatic close and you see Nesta and Cassian dancing happily in the crowds. Elain remains on the dias and you catch her eyes as she watches you and Azriel with careful, wide eyes.

“Come on, Shadowsinger,” You say defiantly, pushing yourself from the onyx pillar, “time to face the High Lord.”

Azreil huffs indignantly and pushes away from the pillar, abandoning his goblet and stalking his way to Elain’s side on the dias. She smiles softly at him and you see some of the tension in Azriel’s shoulders dissolve into nothing but a contented ease.

You approach the dias with a quiet reproach and as you meet Feyre’s eyes she croons at you, her smile is once of a brilliant radiant light that spills from her. A stark contrast to the cold darkness that you carry so well.

Eris' voice is dark and serious as you approach The High Lord, his jaw tightens when Rhysand regards him with a cool violet gaze.

“I have my reasons.”

You’re not entirely sure what they’re talking about and when you take your place next to Feyre she places a hand on your arm in comfort. Though it does nothing to settle the acid churning in your stomach nor the storm that is raging inside of you.

“Care to share those reasons with us?” Rhysand asks, picking at an errant thread on his beautiful dark tunic.

For a moment his eyes glaze over, muted violet as he speaks mind to mind with the Autumn Prince.

Rhysand’s lips twitch lightly and you can see that whatever words passed between him and Eris has pleased him greatly-- at least given him the upper hand so that he doesn’t feel threatened but Eris’ commanding presence.

Eris steps forwards again and adds, “Bestides, it is a bonus of course, that in doing so, I would be getting what has been owed to me even since my betrothal to Morrigan.”

Rhysand studies Eris and then casts a fleeting glance along the line to you, standing dutifully at Feyre’s side.

Like the docile, and obedient sister he wants you to be.

A conduit of his dark power. A piece to be played in this game of power and politics.

“Anything I want-- anything at all, whether it be armies from the Autumn Court or your firstborn, you would grant me it all in exchange for the Archeron girl as your wife?”

Azriel, still somewhat territorial, lets loose a low growl that rumbles like thunder through the air.

Eris doesn’t deign to even look in his direction-- instead those haunting amber eyes linger on you. His eyes are soft and dark, burning into yours, and you find yourself caught in the unyielding, all consuming fire that is Eris Vanserra.

Eris turns back to Rhysand. “Not as far as my heir, but yes, Rhysand. You want armies against the human queen? You’ll have them, and anything else you might ask of me.”

“Just for her?” Azriel’s voice is cutting and suspicious as he hones in on Eris Vanserra.

“The girl, and, when the time comes, you’ll aid me in seizing the Autumn Throne from my father.” Eris adds, his eyes shine with that slow-burning fire, “and then you’ll have all the armies you desire.”

Rhysand and Feyre share a look of pure delight, irreverent to anyone else but you see it for what it is. Feral delight at their victory.

“I couldn’t very well let my wife’s sister go into battle unaided, could I?”

I said bring him to his knees, darling. What dark magic is this? What have you done to him? Rhysand’s voice is like night-kissed air in your mind.

Feyre’s laugh rings through you like birdsong and you can’t help the satisfied smirk that curls onto your lips.

You’re about to speak when you catch Eris’ eyes; those strange amber eyes. And then you feel it.

A bond that grows taut and reverberates through the hall, like a ripple of power and a golden thread bridges the distance between your body and his.

“Mate?” Eris’ voice strains with the weight of it, and you feel like light goes all through you, as though you are little more than a shadow or a memory as you allow yourself to sink into the dark waters that live within your mind's eye. “My mate.”

Your name breaks apart in his mouth and in a flash of violet and murky blue you’re greeted by the storm as it breaks over Velaris. On the horizon, dark and ominous as it approaches. You reach the balcony and wade out into the violent night, waiting for the storm to stake its claim to you.

You were born on a night like this, you tell yourself. Like the Gods of old; born from the storms and the seas, to withstand the hardships of this world. To be cruel and merciless and beautiful.

You whisper it, until you feel that bond in your chest grow taut, strained with the distance between you. And as Eris’ emotions run like water into you, for the first time in a long time you allow yourself to feel.

To yield to the storm as it breaks against you with all the force of a great tempest.

#eris x reader #eris x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris fic #eris headcanons #pro eris vanserra #eris vandaddy #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #acotar fanfic #azriel x you #azriel x reader

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laurfilijames · 1 year

Text

Gilded In Gold

Pairing: Fili x female reader

Words: 1,327

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Post-sex body worship of the crown prince. Nudity. Slight masturbation (M), touching ones-self. Brief oral (M receiving)

Summary: In the blissful moments following your love-making, you admire your One as he relaxes in the early morning sun.

A/N: A little The Belly and chest fur worship because how can you not? @deanobingo

---

Fili sauntered almost lazily over to the bed, allowing you a long look at the body that had just finished pleasuring you beyond the point of exhaustion, your head resting heavily on a pillow that shielded you from the cold, stone floor while your eyes followed him effortlessly from where you lay.

His chest still heaved as he worked to catch his breath, and you smiled to yourself in appreciation of his vigorousness in the sport of love-making.

The toned muscles in his back flexed wildly when he lifted a bulging arm up to run his fingers through his hair that stuck to his face from sweat saturating the edges, turning the wheat-coloured tresses a deeper hue than normal. He sighed as he collapsed against the mattress, the wooden headboard supporting his upper half while his legs were cradled by the furs beneath them. One bent to rest at an angle, the other remaining against the bed; the full spread of his legs displaying his manhood in too-enticing of a way.

His torso contracted when he twisted toward the side table to retrieve his pipe, the purse of his lips something to be admired as he placed the intricately carved piece between them and worked at igniting the pipeweed. His brows knitted together when he inhaled deeply, all of his features relaxing upon his exhale, and when the plume of smoke faded away, it revealed his icy gaze at you from across the room.

You propped yourself up on an elbow, desperate to get a better look at the glory of your One who sprawled upon your bed as though he was an ornament amongst the furs.

His skin was tinted pink, his chest and cheeks flushed with heat and reminders of where your hands had been, and a thin sheen of sweat made him glow in the growing morning light. The soft orange beams highlighted him like the treasure he was, making the amber curls that covered his skin look as though they were plated in gold; suiting him like gleaming armor.

Taking another drag from his pipe, he rested the hand that held it on top of his raised knee, tilting his head curiously to the side as he continued to peer at you through heavy lids adorned with long, flaxen lashes.

You couldn't help but let your eyes follow his movements, traveling down from his eyes to his hand that had held you against him firmly mere moments ago, and then further to where his flaccid cock leaned heavily against his vast inner thigh. The coarser hairs that decorated his member appeared darker; sodden and untidy from a combination of sweat, spend and slick, making your core clench in knowing he was sticky and smelling of you.

You swallowed thickly, returning your gaze up to meet his, and like he knew what was on your mind and seeing how your body was already responding to wanting him again, Fili hooked an eyebrow high on his head.

Licking your lips, you shifted where you lay, purposefully adjusting in order to better display yourself to him; the art of seduction quickly flourishing into a subtle competition between you.

His belly jumped slightly as he let out a noise that was somewhere between a hum and a chuckle, giving a faint shake of his head in amusement, his wild hair gleaming like gold as the sunlight shined on it. The day-old braids were now almost unrecognizable and completely unruly from how much your fingers had torn through them, the quickly approaching day revealing how many hours of the night were dedicated to ruining his previously-neat strands.

Dust danced in the light that beamed in through the window, spreading a warmth across his relaxed form that accentuated the dense spans of curls on his chest, and in wanting to card your hands through it, you mimicked the action on your own skin, rubbing your breasts in slow, languid strokes.

The heat of the intense morning sun set you aflame as much as Fili's stare did, feeling his hungry eyes cast upon you, watching you like a beast about to devour their prey.

Trying to hold his look but failing, your eyes flitted down to the apex of his spread legs, the flex of his hardening cock distracting you and making your hands grope yourself more desperately.

Your eyelids fell closed as you proceeded to roam your body in hopes of it being him, only to cease when he spoke with a quiet surety that seemed to echo through your chambers.

"Are you going to leave me sitting here all alone, Amrâlimê?" he asked, his voice as sultry as the look he gave you when your eyes flashed open again, a hint of mischief playing at the corners of his mouth while a blush rose up on his cheeks that matched the rise of his shaft.

"My apologies," you purred, sitting upright. "I was simply trying to spare you from my wandering hands and salacious ideas. It seems I cannot control myself when you look the way you do right now."

His chest and belly shook with a hearty laugh, his dimples appearing in his cheeks and the lines around his eyes spreading a warmth through you that mirrored the fiery heat showing in his blue irises.

Rising from the piles of blankets and pillows arranged in front of the hearth that had been your make-shift bed for the night, you walked slowly over to the bed, smiling when Fili nodded his head to the vacant space beside him and patted the furs to coax you more.

You knelt on the bed, one knee at a time, your arms slowly alternating with the movement of your legs as you crawled toward him; the hunger held in his eyes as he watched you approach making you shiver with anticipation.

Fili parted his legs further, his offering making your mouth water, and taking himself in a firm hold, he stroked up and down on his length a few times as he waited for you to settle up to him.

You stopped just at his legs, letting a hand trail up the back of his thigh of the one that was bent, your lips gingerly kissing the top of his knee. Fili let go of his shaft, sighing as your fingers wandered down to his center and tickled near his taught sack, his head leaning back against the headboard, belly quivering to your touch. You cupped his ballocks in your palm, gently massaging them until he growled with approval, tugging on them ever so slightly until his chest rose and fell sharply. Lowering your head, you captured his cock that wagged from his squirming motions in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip, earning a sharp hiss from between his gritted teeth as he bucked up slightly off the bed.

Releasing him and hovering over his impatient member, you grinned at him, flashing a devious look through your lashes.

Before you could make any further acts of provocation, Fili grabbed onto your arms and hauled you against his front, and in one fluid motion, flipped you onto your back where you were pinned under his weight.

"It's unfair to tease me like that," he muttered, his lips ghosting on yours while his hands carded through your hair, pulling on it so you tipped your head back and exposed your neck to him.

"Is it?" you spoke nervously, but sanguinely, anxious to see what power he would unleash on you.

"Mhmm," he purred, licking a path up your throat before burying his face to rub his beard on your delicate skin.

The fur on his chest brushed your sensitive nipples in the most alluring way, making you arch up off the bed to press yourself more against the silky curls, his belly laying heavily on your middle to push you back down into the furs.

"You're in a world of trouble, Ghivashel."

---

Taglist:

Everything:

@guardianofrivendell @midearthwritings @cassiabaggins @lilith15000 @trishthedishofreis @linasofia @unbeatablecurlgirl @the-poldarkian @lathalea @enchantzz @blairsanne @legolaslovely @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @sketch-and-write-lover @jotink78 @medusas-hairband @feeweeeee @missihart23 @fortheloveofdurin @i-am-still-bb @roobear68 @ichoosechoasandbeingqueer @legolasbadass @spngingerbread21

#deanobingo2023 #deano bingo #fili #fili smut #fili x female reader #the hobbit #dean o'gorman #fili durin #The Belly™️

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random-bookquotes · 2 years

Quote

i’m beginning to realize that sisters are in your life forever, while lovers usually stay in our lives only but for a moment in time. honor the fellow women in your life every single chance you get. check in on them. offer them a shoulder or two. lay roses at their feet. make sure they know that they’re never truly alone, because they have you.

Amanda Lovelace, shine your icy crown (You Are Your Own Fairy Tale, #2)

#Amanda Lovelace #shine your icy crown #You Are Your Own Fairy Tale #sisters #women

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maries-gallery · 1 year

Text

in your arms tonight (chevalier)

I’ll get back to requests soon enough but just an itty bitty thought...

genre: nsfw, fluff, mdni

warnings: fingering, edging, dacryphilia, overstimulation, light dirty talk, female bodied reader

word count: 1,4K

Late at night, you twist and turn in a bed all too cold for your liking, your hard working lover having yet to join you. Your eyes open and close, seeking peaceful slumber yet never quite able to reach Morpheus’s embrace.

You don’t dare think about the time, the high moon in the sky and darkness outside enough for you to know that the clock had struck well past midnight.

These last few weeks had been heavy on Chevalier’s shoulders.

Freshly crowned King of Rhodolite, he has had to take on more responsibilities than he ever had as a prince. And although your strong lover had never shown any sign of fatigue, thorns of concern still made it hard for you to rest.

With a sigh you get yourself out of bed, quietly tiptoeing through the darkness and to the door.

Silence reigns in the halls, everyone asleep except for a few guards stationing around.

“Lady (Y/n), is everything alright?” A guard posted in front of your bedroom door questions, ready to strike in case of danger.

Chevalier had insisted on them guarding your room in his absence. The thought both reassuring and enough to send a cold shiver up your spine. You didn’t want to think about the whys these guards would be necessary. Although, becoming Chevalier’s lover, you had expected for such attention to cross your path.

Being the Brutal Beast’s lover was never a safe bet.

“Yes, I just needed some fresh air. Thank you for asking.” You reassure them with a smile. Arms wrapping around your chest to trap the warmth.

“Do you need me to accompany you, My Lady?”

“No, I am sure I will be fine. I am just going to visit King Chevalier’s office. By all means, I will be safe.”

The guard nods quietly, “Alright, if you need anything shout for me.”

You continue your way, guided by dim lights hanging from the walls. Before long, reaching Chevalier’s office. Light seeps under the door and tickles your bare feet. From inside, scribblings and paper shuffling reach your ear.

“Come in.” A voice you know all too well calls out, your heart swelling at the sound.

Of course he would have guessed it was you. Sweet Rhodolite, god knows if he also knew you’d come visit him from the very beginning.

You step inside, as expected, your lover sits at his desk, mahogany covered in a river of papers and documents. His desk lamp shines golden glows on his locks and chiselled features.

“You should be asleep by now.” He says, lifting his head up for icy blue eyes to meet yours.

You let out a chuckle, striding over to him and taking your place on his lap, “Coming from you of all people, that is quite hypocritical, don’t you think?”

His eyes widened briefly, a hint of amusement in his gaze, “Getting bold, are we?”

You ignore his question, eyes shifting to the papers on his desk, neat handwriting covering pages upon pages of foreign affairs issues amongst others.

“How are things going?” You ask, leaning your head on his shoulder, arms wrapping around his neck.

The softest of smiles graces his lips, nose nuzzling in the nape of your neck to bathe in your scent. Something that never failed to ease his nerves.

He lets out a content sigh.

“Good. But if you want me to come to bed any time soon you’d better not distract me.” He says with a teasing smirk.

“But it is so late...” You say, clouds of concern overcasting your earnest gaze, “You have been getting barely any sleep these days. And I worry.”

Before he can respond, you carry on, “I know you’re well capable of maintaining this schedule for god knows how long. But much like everyone else, I doubt lack of sleep is any good for your health, King Chevalier.”

He pauses, the edges of his lips curving in a small smile.

“What do you offer, then?” He asks, soft lips tracing the soft flesh of your neck left vulnerable by your nightgown. “Because whether or not you like it, I have to finish this, simpleton.”

Your breath catches in your throat, thighs rubbing together as warmth slowly pools in your core at his touch. And for a moment, you think it unfair, how he manages to make you lose your mind so easily.

“I-... Chevalier what about the-”

“The knights outside?” He asks, teeth nagging at your skin and tugging down at the fabric, “They know better than to hang around when you’re with me. But if you really worry about them, make sure to keep your moans low.”

Heat blooms on your cheeks at the meaning of his words, yet you ease in his arms. A soft moan pearling from your lips as one of his hands creeps down to your thighs.

“Enjoying this?” He says with a teasing smile, blue eyes burning with playful desire.

“Ye-Yes...” You whisper in a breath, heat swirling inside of you as fire nips and licks at your skin. Every parcel of you brought alive by the passion he ignites.

“Please-Please, Chev... More..” You moan, words muffled by his collar as you hold onto him tight, core crying for him.

His fingers tug at your undergarment, stealing another mewl from you as a digit dips in your wet heat.

Your trembling legs part wider for him, an invitation he gladly accepts, two fingers plunging inside of you. And the way Chevalier knows your every nook and cranny by heart is almost a curse as he pulls you like a string.

A rough thumb grazes your reddening bud as he pumps his fingers in and out of you at a languid pace, tickling the most sensitive spot inside of you.

Your toes curl, driven mad by the slow pace and the need for more. Chevalier seems unbothered, a pleased smirk painted on his handsome features as he makes you cry for him again and again, bringing you closer and closer to sweet release.

And right when you are about to tip over the edge, he stops.

The knot of need in your stomach aches to be unleashed, to snap in a tendrils of pleasure. You burn under his touch, ready to be wholly consumed by him.

Yet he doesn’t budge. Until he picks up again, so slow it drives you mad.

“Chev... Please-” You plead with him, fingers fisting the fabric of his shirt as tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“Please what?” Your lover asks, lips pressing open mouthed kisses to your nape, willing to devour every inch of you. “Use your words.”

“Plea-Please, let me cum!” You cry out between whimpers, so deliciously overstimulated by his ongoing touch.

“If you can still beg for mercy I haven’t ravaged you well enough.” He deadpans, picking up the pace once more. Bringing you up, only to let you fall in a heap of wet desire yet again.

“If you really want to cum, you will have to beg for it, simpleton.” Chevalier says, fingers curling over your sweet spot, sending hot flashes of pleasure through your veins.

“Please!” You cry, and he licks your tears away, kissing your cheek.

“You can do better than that for your king, right?” He insists with a merciless grin, circling your overstimulated bud.

“Plea-Please, Chev-... Need to cum!”

He presses a tender kiss to your exposed shoulder, “Come undone for me then.”

You barely have time to word an answer, a poor excuse of a thank you falling from your lips in broken syllables as his digits thrust you to your release.

He watches, admires as your mouth falls open in a silent cry of his name, thighs slick with arousal quivering under his touch as he helps you ride out the wave of your orgasm. Ripples of pleasure moving your spine and stealing your breath away.

And then he lets you fall back in his arms, still shaken from your high and drunk with the last drops of release in your veins.

Your lashes flutter, gazing up and meeting sky-blue eyes. The same eyes that used to elicit nothing but unrest now showering you with the warmest of love and most tender of affection.

His arms tighten around you, holding you close.

“Now that I’ve exhausted you enough, you might go back to bed.” He says with a smile.

And you could have left. Could have gone back to your room, to cuddle in lonely sheets.

But instead you chose to lie on the velvet sofa in his office, a book in hand. Until it drops to the floor, Chevalier’s sign that you had finally found your way to dreamland. Your eyes closing and soft snores coming from your lips.

Cold pools of blue soften as Chevalier’s gaze shifts to your sleeping form, following the steady rise and fall of your chest.

The Brutal Beast’s lips curve in a smile brimming with a love so big he thought his chest might burst.

And when the time came, he carried you back to your room, where your sleep would remain undisturbed.

taglist: @aquagirl1978 @randonauticrap @heyy-its-j @pockcock

send me a text or ask if you’d like to be added!

#ikemen prince #ikemen prince fanfic #ikemen prince fanfiction #ikepri #ikepri fanfic #ikepri fanfiction #ikemen prince smut #ikepri smut #ikemen prince chevalier #ikepri chevalier #ikemen series

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rabbitenn · 4 months

Note

Hello!

May I request Yuki and TRIGGER with an s/o who makes a long, passionate speech about how much they love the boys in public?

TO MY DEAREST.

Because the world needs to know your love for him.

ft. Yuki, Yaotome Gaku, Kujo Tenn, Tsunashi Ryunosuke x gn! reader.

cw/genre: fluff, mild spoilers for part 5 of the story, slight mentions of alcohol.

Thank you for your request, nonnie, dear ! I’m very sorry this took so long, I hope you still like it <3

♡ YUKI

— Well, a public speech is definitely one way to fluster him.

— Really, despite his cool exterior and at times intimidating presence towards his juniors, Yuki is easily fazed by your acts of affection.

— So you expressing how much he means to you in front of the whole television station was not something he expected to happen on his daily life.

— Moreover, given the situation going on with rumors being spread around him, courtesy of Tsukumo.

— “What do you mean you feel like you cannot trust him?” You were asking one of the staff, a rather angry expression on your face at the other’s hesitation.

— Boiling anger shines white-hot in you at such a statement, your heart rate accelerating in utter fury at people believing baseless rumors.

— And you know, you know that Yuki would tell you he’s the one who has to deny any of those, but perhaps this time (or always) your love for him overpowers your reason.

— “Yuki is a very kind person, you know? If you bothered to get to know him for who he truly is and not just believe that gossip you’d know for yourself! In all the years we’ve been together, he’s always been there for me. He’s attentive to details and surprises me when I least expect it with the sweetest gestures. I know him, I know him well. He does everything for me, from cooking my favorite dishes when he knows I’ve had a long day to running me warm baths with my favorite bath salts. I love him more than anything. And I always will. So you better inform yourself before saying anything bad about him!”

— With that, you turn tail, pace brisk as you leave the interviewer speechless and defeated, not conceding any room for argument.

— And with the adrenaline pulsating through you, you haven’t realized how the whole room has gone quiet.

— Nor are you thinking right now about the fact your boyfriend totally heard everything.

— As you make your way back to the green room, he intercepts you.

— Hand catching your wrist, he tugs you along, until he closes the door behind you.

— You stare at your lover, eyes widened, fixated on his icy stare.

— “[Y/n], close your eyes.” Yuki asks, face partially obscured by long silvery locks.

— “Why?”

— “Because I’m going to kiss you right now.” Are his words before leaning in.

— You were too good to be true. And if his shyness won’t let him express it with words, then he’ll show you this way.

— Not that you are complaining, though.

♡ YAOTOME GAKU

— He’s a simp.

— Like, seriously. Gaku is so in love with you and is ready to propose and do anything for you.

— So you giving a speech in public about how much you love him? Say no more. He’s whipped.

— Probably (definitely) you weren’t completely sober.

— See, it was the new year’s party at Yaotome Productions and you had a little bit (too much) champagne.

— And so, the sparkly liquid opened the secret diary of your heart, true feelings spilling over in words of praise for your boyfriend.

— “Gaku…” You mutter, holding onto his arm, nuzzling your head on his shoulder. “Have I told you I love you today?”

— Steely eyes look at you, expression soft. Your words are a little slurred, eyes half lidded as you look up at him in wonder.

— “I know you do.” He assures, with a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “And I love you too, my darling.”

— “But I don’t tell you enough…” You pout. “Everyone should know I love you!” You conclude, walking towards a table in the center of the venue.

— “Everyone, please could you pay attention to me for a second?” You ask, waving your arms.

— “Tonight a new year ends. And with it, new memories have been stored into our hearts, no?” You smile.

— “So, before the clock strikes twelve, I would like to dedicate a few words to someone.”

— To all of this, Gaku stands there, his expression equal parts flustered and smitten with you.

— “I want to thank my boyfriend for all the moments we’ve lived together. I love him more than anything, he’s such a gentleman to me… He’s the most caring person ever, and any who have met him would agree with me that they are so, so, lucky to have come across such a chance.”

— “So, even if I will not reveal his name, and I’ll ask all of you who know here to keep it secret, I love you, my dearest. I hope you know how much.”

— A clamor of cheers and clapping engulfs the scene, as Gaku waits for you towards the back of the room.

— Ryuu shoots him an encouraging smile, while Tenn gives him a knowing smirk.

— TRIGGER’s leader is determined to take you to the most beautiful spot to see the new year’s fireworks now.

— And, of course, with no one around. For the question he has planned to ask is reserved for your ears only.

♡ KUJO TENN

— Tenn is shy about it, but hides it with a pout and averted eyes.

— He certainly did not expect to get back to Ryu’s apartment with you rambling on about how happy TRIGGER’s center makes you.

— Don’t get him wrong. Tenn finds it adorable, and were you to be in private, he’d charm and tease you.

— It’s just that you expressing your love for him in front of his friends and manager…

— It really does make his cheeks dye in rosy hues and his heart skip more than one beat.

— See, if this was in public, he’d run to silence you.

— He’s an idol and he has fans he cannot disappoint. Plus, your relationship being exposed to the public like that would only ensue rumors around the media.

— But well, if it’s just only amongst his groupmates and Anesagi-san, your boyfriend will listen to what you have to say before revealing he’s home already.

— “Tenn is just so cute and precious, guys… I love him more than anything. He loves cats and they love him… We went to a cat cafe the other day and all the small kitties flocked around him and wanted to climb on his lap…” You ramble on.

— “Tenn’s giggles were the most adorable thing ever… And the way he cared for all the cats? It was the sweetest… He’s also so caring, you know? Even if he pretends to act cold and angry sometimes, he truly is so gentle.”

— “He loves his brother so much and he’s always so good to me, he’s super affectionate when we’re in private… And he really treasures you all, guys.”

— While you proceed with your loving speech, Gaku and Ryu are aawing, commenting on how cute their youngest member is, and how they’d like to see him acting all lovey dovey with you.

— Anesagi is fawning over you and Tenn, holding back tears as she fangirls over “young love”.

— To all this scene, Gaku comments on how he’d like to see Tenn’s flustered expression if he were to hear what you guys are talking about.

— “Oh? Is that so?” The latter asks, announcing his presence. He places a sweet kiss to your cheek, shooting a vicious glare in Gaku’s direction. “Is it because you got rejected twice in the span of five minutes?”

— “You…” TRIGGER’s leader snaps.

— “Hey, guys, don’t fight, please!” You and Ryu say in unison.

— Both light haired males sigh, averting their gaze from each other, Tenn’s cheeks not unlike his image color.

— Well, the angelic idol knows he’ll be giving you plenty of affection (and teasing you too) once you’re alone later.

♡ TSUNASHI RYUNOSUKE

— He blushes, but he’s also very happy and admires your assertiveness.

— Ryu’s a little worried about you, though.

— These are trying times for him and the rest of TRIGGER, with all the false accusations and gossip circulating around…

— For you to get involved too… your lover doesn’t want the media making up hoaxes about your private life because of him.

— And yet, despite everything, you seem hell bent on not keeping quiet in the slightest about the truth of the matter, and about how much he means to you.

— Camera flashes follow you two, paparazzi popping up in the most unlikely places, surely with nothing good in mind.

— You’re using a disguise, but well, even that way, it’s not like your partner is exactly inconspicuous.

— So, of course, you are surrounded.

— You’ve had it with them.

— So when they next ask you if you trust Ryu and whether or not you’re afraid he’ll play you, you don’t conceal the emotions burning on your face.

— “Listen here, you mindless pricks!” You grumble, taking one of the journalist’s mics.

— “Ryunosuke is just about the sweetest guy you can meet, alright? He is the kindest and most gentle, he would never betray his friends and even less so a lover, just so that you know!” You claim, determination burning in your stare.

— “Yes, go ahead and make this the next headline, who gives a damn anymore about the fake news you spread maliciously? He’s dear to many people. He loves his family more than anything. He always has a kind word for those close to him, and sweet, true smiles for his fans.”

— “And most of all, Ryu is very dear to me. All this time, all the gossip you’ve been spreading? It’s all fake constructed evidence. So pack your notebooks and go back to college. I think your degree doesn’t have much use if you can’t see something so obvious.”

— With that, you grab your boyfriend’s hand and leave the scene, a speechless crowd in your wake.

— Amber eyes look at you fondly, but a shadow of concern still lingers at the fact you got involved in all this drama.

— “[Y/n], you didn’t-“

— “I didn’t have to?” You beat him to it. “I know. I wanted to, Ryu.” Your hands cup his tan cheeks. “And I’d do it again, because I love you so much.”

— His lids flutter closed, a sigh escaping him.

— There was no helping it once you were set onto something.

— “You are too precious.” Are the words he whispers, as his strong arms wrap around you.

— “No, you!” You chuckle, with a sweet kiss to his jawline.

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smutracha · 8 months

Text

Volume XII

rewind <3 fast forward

Mafia!SKZ Yandere!SKZ Afab!reader Poly!SKZ

tw: violence, blood, guns, knives, nicotine, drugging, alcohol, ptsd, sexual harrasment, mentions of self harm, depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder, depictions of death and gore

smut warnings: oral(f), degradation, praise, God kink, fluffy, soft passionate sex

Wednesday – Hyunjin

Throughout your days with the boys you experienced so much, the laughter and fooling around, the movies and cuddling, even training with them. But with Hyunjin blossomed a precious connection. He sat quietly in your midst, painting as you read. He shared his favourite verses with you and braided daisies in your hair. He dressed you in sundresses and lace. He bathed you in candlelight and kisses. He treated you like a butterfly, like his own garden. Something to be nurtured and loved. Something he admired so purely.

You sat outside in your garden with a book in your hand. Reading poetry in the gentle hold of nature. “Here you are. You know better than to run off before I can even finish getting you dressed, little muse.” He sighed and sat behind you to start on your hair. “I have today all planned out, wanna make it special.” “Yeah? What’s the plan?” “Can’t tell you, that’ll just spoil the fun. Now, what kinda hair do you want today?” “A crown, please” “Your wish is my command little muse. What are we reading today?” “Poetry” he peaked over your shoulder while his hands worked expertly, weaving and plaiting your hair.

“Wanna hear my favourite?” “Sure, little muse.”

“How long will I love you?

Will love you until the mother nature nurture

Till the time, when pretty flowers stop blooming

And when each single leaf begins, deserting the trees

Will love you until the storms get over torture

How long will I love you?-“

He cuts you off, filling in the words as his hands settle the finishing touches of your hair.

“Will love you until the stars stop twinkling

And the moon stop kissing the dusky night

Until the planets, in the universe keep stirring

Will love you, till the sun shining dawn blinking

How long will I love you?”

He stands and rounds you so that his eyes can meet yours, his hand outstretched, an invitation to allow him to grant your every wish. Hyunjin knew that he could only surrender himself to you, you’d enchanted him. You were his muse, his blessing.

And where he left off you picked up, dropping the book to where you had previously sat. you were enraptured in his eyes. You were his as wholly as he was yours. There was no escaping him.

“Will love you, until fire on the wood retain burning

And the blue shores, stop showing the giant waves

when high tide is witnessed, moon craving for earth

Will love you, until milky galaxy way keeps churning

How long will I love you?”

You hadn’t even noticed as he was leading you through the halls of your home. His hand on your back made it so that he was the only thing in your mind.

“Will love you as long as fluffy clouds float

And rain showers longing for weighty flood

I will love you until ship sail along small boat

To the love paradise where lies no royal blood!

How long will I love you?”

The scenery of the house was new, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. In that moment all you knew was him, your Hyunjin.

“Will love you, till the friend has fall over deeds

When the plants, stop reproducing joy seeds

I will love you until the heart of earth lives

Till the last breath, longer than snow fall gives

How long will I love you?”

He brought you to a stop before a grand door. It was impossibly breath taking and it made no sense that a door could appear so regal and untouchable. It only meant that was behind it was so much more.

“I will love you, until icy glacier on poles, melt maturity

Till the river, flows the water of holiness, throws futurity

When the days are left, in charity with no good seasons,

And life has bid us in purity, to rest us with great reasons

How long will I love you?”

The room opened up and your brought to the middle. Your eyes blown wide as you took in the canvases, the paints, the plants, the wide fairytale windows. The beautiful balcony that opened up to overlook the garden. You were inside of him. This was all him. His soul, his heart, his being. He came to meet your eyes, such fondness present as he stared into our soul. But this time it was him who completed the verse he had left off. His gentle touch on your cheek as he came impossibly close to you, lips a mere centimetre away.

“Will love you till beloved hearts greet our name

Till the melody of life stop tuning the musical bliss

And when the ecstasy breathes the songs of waterfall

Will love you until blessed souls meet our fame”

And his kiss felt like a rain shower in spring, it felt like flowers floating on the breeze, it felt like the world stopped, and only the two of you existed in his castle.

“let me love you, muse. Let me adorn you in every fine fabric, in all the jewels of the world. Let me give you myself. Let me have you too.” “of course, of course. You can have me; you can have every part of me. I am yours.”

He spun you around in his arms, giggles filling the air between you before he sat you gentle on a bed you hadn’t even noticed. “Okay, pixie, I wanna paint you. Is that ok?” “Yes, anything for you.” “God, I love you. Now come on, lay back for me.”

And with his sweet and gentle touch he guided you into your current state. You laid resting on cream-coloured silken sheets. The same decadent fabric twisted around your wrists and ankles, pinning you to the bed. His easel brought so that he could paint you at the perfect angle. “I love you, my muse. I’ll take such good care of you.” He trailed a finger lightly down the valley of your breasts, down to your navel, even further until he was tapping ever so softly at your now slick clit. A whimper drawing from your chest as his tongue played with the sweet spot on your neck. And when he bit, it was a striking contradiction of the gentle love he had been showing so far. He was satisfied with the gasp he heard at the bite. He made sure to leave it blue and swollen before he rose again.

“Right and now for our finishing touch.” And the same silk he had you held in was brought to your eyes and you could see nothing. You felt his breath fan across your neck, curving your spine unconsciously. He chuckled and you heard the soft padding of his feet as he retreated. “So pretty. You’re so beautiful, all put on display. Aphrodite must be jealous of you, baby.”

The complement hit you in a way you could never have anticipated. It was so hazing to hear such sinful words. The idea that he could ever think you so outrageously beautiful that Aphrodite herself paled in comparison had you shivering in eroticism.

The soft tinkering of brushes against glass filled your senses. The sounds of painting seemed to last forever before you heard the gentle thump of a palette being put down. “Now for some colour.” His voice was nearer now.

You jumped as his lips encountered your ribcage, you could feel him settle on the bed, hands on your sides as his lips left feather-like kisses on your stomach and beneath your breasts. He started licking gently as his mouth worked its way higher. And a hiss sounded as his teeth bit strongly into your nipple. Without any warning his fingers were at your entrance. Circling gently while he continued to bite and suck across both breasts.

“You must really love this, you’re gonna ruin these sheets if you keep dripping like this.” “Feels so good, need more.” “Not yet angel.”

And then he was gone again, having left bruises across your stomach and breasts. He was pleased with his work, the way your body looked, even on canvas. You were just so perfect, his own personal goddess. And so, he went back to painting. “You were so kind to share your poetry with me my angel, so let me return the favour.” You listened intently as his words riled you up more than any poem should ever be able to. Be he was so sensual, so devout, so gone for you and his words only proved to you that he was now yours. Just as you were his.

“I surrender to you

I surrender to your eyes

I surrender to your arms

I surrender to the passion

That beats inside my heart

I surrender to the longing

That burns inside my soul

I surrender to the will of our souls

Intertwined forevermore

Our love is an endless dream

One day it will shine like sunbeam

Your love dwells in my heart deep

You’re everything I need

You’re my shining star

Come love, let’s walk hand in hand

For life without you, I can’t stand”

And with those words you came, mewling and whimpering at his soft praises. He adored the way he could control your body so passively.

It had felt like ages without his touch and then he was done. “There we go, now let’s get my next reference ready.” “Wait no, Hyune, don’t leave me.” “Little muse, I wasn’t going anywhere. You’re my reference. Sweet silly little goddess.”

His hands met your skin again, trailing over your frame as his lips came to find yours. You could feel every inch of his bare chest. The blindfold quickly becoming your worst enemy as it stole the sight of your prince from you. But just as the thought pranced over your mind, your eyes were blessed with the sight of the artist above you.

His lips left yours as he found his way down to your leaking cunt. “God you look perfect.” His mouth dove right into you, like a starved man he took everything he could from you. Only letting up after pulling three orgasms from you.

He took to leaving small bruises on your thighs, claiming it was what he needed for his creative process. The sun had long dwindled down and the sky was glowing pink. He looked so beautiful in this light. Where he thought of you as his goddess, you thought of him as your god. His slender, lithe frame awash in the glory of nature. He was magnificent and even as his head bent between your things, peppering the bruises with worshipping kisses you let the words fall off your tongue. “You are my god.”

His eyes shot up to find yours, a new crazed kind of hunger shone in them. ”Say that again, my muse.” “You are my god.” A whine sounded in his throat as he melted at the sound of your sweet voice calling him that. “Will you worship your god? Would you do that for me.” “Yes, yes I would. Let me worship you in return, my God.”

He rushed to undo the ties that held you captive and brought you to your knees to kneel before him. He quickly shed his pants and underwear. His beautiful cock slapped against your cheek as it sprang free. “Open up for me. M not gonna go easy on you, I know Minho already trained this beautiful throat so now I expect you to be able to take me down that beautiful throat of yours.” You could only nod in awe of his cock. How could every single part of a human being be so beautiful?

You opened your mouth for him and immediately his hips took to an inhumane pace. He was fucking your mouth as if his life depended on it. “Listen to you choking on your God’s cock. So pathetic. Such a shame, I truly thought you were a goddess, turns out you’re just a whore. Oh fuck! M gonna cum, m gonna cum and I want you to swallow it. Oh o- fuck.” And like that he came, cum shooting down your throat and you swallowed around his cock, making him groan at the overstimulation. He pulled out of your mouth and planted a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Oh, my muse, thank you. Thank you. Just give me a sec, gotta catch my breath.” After a few minutes in each other’s arms, he stood up and came back holding a camera. He adjusted your body so that your legs were spread artfully over the bed and your pussy was exposed before he snapped a photo. Telling you it was for his next painting as he grabbed his shirt from the floor, using it to wipe your now spent body down. He lifted you in his hold and carried you from the room. He insisted the two of you go hunker down with the boys for a movie night.

The next day you were handed a present from a clingy Hyunjin. “Open it. Open it please.” “Okay fine.” And there it was, a painting of the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. Little purple flowers scattered over her body. “It’s gorgeous, is it me?” “Yes, it is. It’s you, my muse. My goddess.” “I love you, my lord.” “Yeah? Wanna get on your knees and worship your god again, goddess?” you were so engulfed in each other you hadn’t even seen Changbin walk into the room, pause as he heard your words, and then leave to tell the rest of the guys about what he just witnessed.

#skz ot8 #yandere skz #poly!skz #skz mafia #stray kids x you #stray kids #stray kids mafia au #mafia!skz #stray kids smut #stray kids yandere

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