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wanderingpages · 1 year

Note

High for this by The Weeknd but *jurdan*?

∞

Now Playing: High For This by The Weeknd

1:20 ───⊙─────── 4:15

Cardan’s lips taste sweet, like over ripe fruit; honeyed and heady, and Jude can’t help but want more of it, more of the feeling that slowly ebbs its way into her system. He holds her close, by the base of her neck and the small of her back, keeping her mounted on top of him while he nibbles small little red splotches down her neck. She’s breathing heavily, half dazed with the lack of oxygen getting to her head and something else that fogs and clouds the room. It’s so hot in here, she thinks, but she must have expressed this out loud, she realizes, when Cardan gives her an answering moan that vibrates against her skin.

“Ah,” she cries when his teeth nip at a spot just above her breast, leaving a sting he soothes with the pad of his tongue. Her knees on either side of him, tighten in response and he groans when the heat of her presses down against his groin. Her hands slide from the curve of his shoulders to the nape of his neck. One hand slides up, weaving through thick curls, gripping them tightly, pushing his face harder against her. She tilts her head, giving him space to move up, to that juncture between her neck and shoulder. It tickles her, but she likes the way she can feel it from the base of her spine all the way to the tips of fingers.

Jude would be lying if she said she hadn’t known what she was in for, why she heeded his words when Cardan told her “Come find me,” in the midst of the revel. It had been some time between him being the center of attention and being long forgotten in the haze of smoke and wine. With his finger tugging at a lock of her hair, letting the strands lace around his knuckles before slipping through, with his eyes so transfixed on the motion, Jude thought, he’s absolutely blissed out of his mind.

He left before she could offer him an answer and when she had finally given in just moments later, weaving through the crowd to the room where she knew he’d be. He had a faint smile across his lips, knowing that she’d come. Cardan offered Jude his hand, and she hesitated only for a moment before she let him pull her between his legs.

Her hands had found their way to his arms, her chest getting tight against her clothes as she suddenly struggled to breathe properly. He tucked a stray tress of hair behind her ears, letting his fingers linger. His eyes at half-mast, stared at her with something more than lust, maybe – she guesses it was concern, though his question didn’t really sound like a question. “You know what you’re here for?” Teasing, she thinks, because his hushed tenor when he pulls her closer, when their bodies flushed and her heart beat so hard against his own — and for a moment, it seemed like one rapid rhythm had mended between them; had tethered them to each other – his soft words had felt like the beginning of a fire. Heat and smoke.

Then his hands were guiding her, positioning her against him, roaming her body and letting her roam his, forehead against hers when she bent at the right angle, lost in her eyes while his lips barely skimmed hers. She kissed him first and when he parted his mouth, it was all the friction needed to ignite a spark. She bit down on his lips, tasting red as much as she felt it. He pulled back in a gasp, eyes blown out, but perhaps it had been like so from the start. Still, hers all but mirrored his. Cardan's fingers fumbled, then grasped at his own attire; buttons on his shirt, buttons on his pants. His top was off before Jude could catch up to him, her brain muddled for a little more than a moment. Then, Jude leaned in again and there was a flame.

“Take it off,” he tells her now, tugging at the laces on the back of her dress, loosening them with ease and expertise. He leans back on his elbows, watching her pull the dress up and then toss it somewhere on the floor beside them. In that time, it seems Cardan has absently found something amass the sheets and pillows. A golden fruit he had bitten into earlier that had coated his lips iridescent and his tongue in poison. There’s liquid gold between his lips after he's taken another bite, and Jude’s a little entranced, not realizing she’d folded her arms across her bare breasts.

Cardan reaches and gently pulls at her wrist. There’s no resistance as Jude’s hands are placed on his chest. She hovers hover him, stray pieces of hair, dismantled from pins and jewels, curtain the two of them. She’s nervous now, “Cardan,” her lips mouth over his, tasting that sweetness again. He squeezes the fruit, letting the liquid drip over his knuckles and land against his skin between them.

“I’m right here,” he tells her quietly, tossing the apple before letting his hand wander up her spine, the other sliding through her hair, letting glimmering traces of gold speckle over her body. “Don’t be scared,” he paints the places he likes the most about her... spine, neck, chest, breast, navel - up again to her cheeks, nose, earlobe, then down to her thigh and the curve of her ass.

“I’ve.. I’ve never…” she feels dizzy by proximity of him, by juices seeping into her pores. She's unable to finish her sentence, can’t really recall where she had been going, but she knows for certain that she wants to taste his lips again, wants to lick the elixir right off of him. But a small part of her wonders if that would be okay, if she could handle more than just the remnant of what he had taken hours prior.

“Do you trust me?” He’s genuine this time, reading her easily. Jude realizes, maybe outside of this moment, the answer would be different. She nods her head in response. He presses her closer, and uses the hand at her back to slowly guide her hips against his. “Then you can taste me,” he tells her. “I’ve got you,” Cardan promises.

Her tongue darts out, lapping at his bottom lip without thought, slowly pulling it into her mouth. Cardan's hips lift and begin to move in tandem with hers, hands at her hips, guiding her in wave-like motions, pressing their bodies harder against each other until she cries out against his lips. His eyes flutter shut and his fingers leave indents in her skin. The scant material of her underwear is dampening against his pants, and she’s kissing him sloppily as she rocks against his hardening cock.

His lips are swollen when he turns them over, has her on her back while he takes a nipple into his mouth. She sucks in a breath, exhales a whimper. “Ah – ah, ahh…” losing her words, unable to think straight. She’s trying so hard to muffle her moans, paranoid the remaining revel party would hear, let alone even care. She bites down hard on her lip, and Cardan thinks it’s the most endearing thing he’s ever seen. His fingers squeeze at her other breast, twisting the pebbled nipple between his fingers, soothing the hurt with his thumb, then slowly traveling up her neck, over her chin and slips four fingers into her open mouth, helping her muffle herself, easing the hurt from her lips. She whines and spit dribbles down his ring adorned fingers. Her teeth bites down, but not harshly, and her tongue licks languidly at the sticky psychedelic.

Jude’s body thrashes in tight, mostly controlled movements, trying to cover more surface area, arching her back, buckling her legs over his waist, gripping his hair. Closer. He flicks his tongue and she sobs in rapture, silently begging him for more. His free hand holds her hip down, slides up and down her thigh until she releases him from her python grip, letting her legs fall against the mattress, spreading wide for his fingers to trace her nerves right to between her thighs. He licks off the remaining substance then his hand slips into her panties, two fingers slipping easily in her. She gurgles out Cardan’s name when his digits curl upwards and his palm presses down on her clit. Spit slides down the sides of her mouth, tears parallel from the corner of her eyes. She looks upward, finding swirls in the smoke, glitter in the air, stars in her eyes.

Her knees bend, soles of her feet pressing down firmly on the mattress, her hips lift in vain, breath coming concerningly fast. “It’s okay,” Cardan says now, “breathe,” he instructs her, “I know, Jude.” He takes her in, watching as her eyes gradually hone in on him, straining a pinkish color from the sting of whatever still permeates the air. They’re wet and wide and repeatedly losing focus as Cardan’s slowly thrusts his fingers in and out of her. “I know, Jude,” he whispers again, sweat beading along his skin, entranced with her every reaction. “I feel it too,” he promises.

“Cardan…” she manages, hands going to his wrist, holding on to it as he slides down her chin and collars her neck, all the while, she rocks against his other hand, finding a rhythm that makes her ache. Slowly, she hikes a leg up, fumbling to slip his pants down. His tail flicks against her skin, stopping her, holding her ankle tight and still. “Will it hurt?” she glances down, watching when Cardan takes pressure off of her pelvis and reaches to pull down his pants. His fingers glisten obscenely, coating the tip of his member as he strokes it slowly. He squeezes tightly, at the base, giving an already light headed Jude a visual comparison to go by. His hand slides up and down like a slow tease. Her hands begin to shake, “Cardan…?”

He strokes the tip between her folds and Jude’s stomach all but caves. Her body tenses, waiting for an intrusion that never really comes. Just a smooth teasing that has her twitching occasionally. “We’ll be good,” Cardan says in murmur of a slur, “So good,” he whispers, placating. His hand smooths down her pubic bone, thumb pressing at her clit.

“Ah –” Jude’s head lolls back, and she takes in a deep breath just as he enters, slowly, testing the waters at first before pressing all the way in. He’s slow at first, easing out of her tight grip whenever he pushes in. When she begins undulating her hips, he falls forward, encasing her with his body, beginning to move more nimbly. Her nails find his back, scraping skin between scars already healed over. He fucks her that much harder, forcing short little screams from her whenever he hits deep enough that her toes curl. She’s still fighting her vocality, still fixated on faeries in the halls, not aware that they won’t recall even seeing her slip past them the next day, won’t recall her entering the room Cardan had decided to occupy.

He grips at her hair, forcing her to look at him, driving into her harder. “Just me,” he manages, and whether she understands his proclamation, or she’s unable to hold back any longer, Cardan isn’t quite sure, but he’s so pleased when she screams out in bliss.

So fucking pleased, when she’s fighting her eyes to stay open, when she’s uttering a jumble of words next to his name, “Please, please, please…. more…Cardan …more…please…I – just…you…”

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jurdanhell · 1 year

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Okay so basically, I was re reading the chapter where Cardan asks Jude “and is it out of your system?” And Jude’s like “oh yea yea totally” sis, we all know that’s LIES 😂. I was just trying to imagine an alternate scene thinking.. what if she says no? Idk about anyone else but I think it would lead to basically chapter 15 part 2 so I was wondering if you could write a filthy something something 😂🥴 (like I mentioned before, no pressure)

I Will Know Nothing (Until I Know You)

Read it on AO3!

Word Count: 1,432

Rating: Mature

“And is it?" He asks. "Out of your system?”

I think of the blusher mushroom, the deathsweet, the wraithberry running through my veins with equal measure ferocity and instinct. We are alike in this way.

“No,” I say, because the indulgence of poison is one that I know greater than anything else.

I am unlearned at love and its making, but no matter how obvious that is to him, he does not let it show. Not when he guides my hands so carefully over him. Not when he redirects my nails to claw again at his back as he brings his mouth to the tender space just behind my ear. I suck my lip between the sharpest edges of my teeth, against the sound that rumbles in the back of my throat, because what this really is is a secret, and the more he knows is all the more he can use against me. I bite down on my lip hard enough to bleed.

The familiar sickness of poison roils through my gut, twinged with something else. A layer of sweat sheens over my skin and I am dizzy from the blood that rushes to my cheeks, my head, no doubt as diseased as what I’d ingested only earlier today. As infected as myself.

I tip my head back, again reminded of the things we’d done in that secret room behind the throne, and all the things we hadn’t. He brings his mouth to the hollow of my throat, pushing me back into the office in the Court of Shadows that I’ve taken as my own. He pauses only to push the door closed.

The dizzying absence from his hands on my skin leaves as quickly as it arrives, as though it was aware of how soon it would be replaced with another, equally intoxicating feeling.

Since my time in Faerie, I have grown very good at pretending. Pretending that my muscles do not sing from the acute pain from the swinging of my sword, pretending that it didn’t hurt every time I’d been made an example of being something lesser. Pretending that I do not feel as I do, hiding even from myself. I am not sure I keep the longing off my face, but with his hands drifting down the tie of my breeches, nose deep in the crook of my neck, I am not sure it matters.

Perhaps desire is like mithridatism, where I should be taking doses slowly, accumulating my body to the poison until it affects me no longer. Perhaps my overindulgence here will kill me as surely as any sharp blade.

It isn’t until he sinks down onto his knees, pushing the backs of my legs to the edge of the desk, mouth drifting across my navel that I decide that I do not care.

Religion in Faerie is scarcely discussed, brought up only with the slandering of poor fates and cursed as surely as any gambling man might blame the hand. There might have been gods, once, but anything infinite in an immortal mind is just as easily forgotten. But he slides my breeches down to my knees with such piety, pushing my legs apart with such reverence that I’m sure one of us has found it.

Something flutters in my chest as he brings his mouth to my center, looking up at me through his dark lashes. Not as though I ought to be the one praying, but as though this is the prayer. As though any noise I might make would make for choir, would carry the cadence of a hymn. He looks at me as though he means to memorize it, this moment. The shape of my very skin.

His hands move methodically against me, into me. There is strategy here yet, and I refuse to concede. I will not concede.

This time, I do not let my hands shake.

I bring one hand to his hair and knot my fingers so deeply I am not sure they will ever be free. I am not sure I want them to be. His tongue brushes flat against me, but it is the heat of his breath against my bare thigh that is my undoing. He moans my name against my skin, whispering dirty things I'm certain he would not say if his goal wasn't to make me give in. I will not give in.

I lean back against the desk, putting my weight on my elbow. I’m half-aware of something being knocked to the floor when he sinks lower to bring one of my legs over his shoulder.

There is an awful kind of pleasure in being granted what you’ve so desperately wanted, even if you’ve convinced yourself you didn’t. It seems we are both good at making terrible decisions.

This deep underground, it is too dark for plants to grow. There are no windows to allow moonlight to skim in, pooling like milk against the scarce furniture that was undoubtedly stolen for the home of thieves. That does not stop vines from snaking their way up the walls, cloying around any surface they can find purchase on. Surely, deep down in their making, they must know they were doomed to die the moment they sprouted. There is nothing for them here. No light, no water. No chance for survival.

That is what I tell myself as Cardan’s other hand slips beneath my shirt to palm at my breast. That is what I tell myself as I let him. There is no chance for survival. There is no way I would have survived this, anyway.

Maybe I can still take him down with me.

His finery is disarranged as I pull against his hair, beckoning him to his feet as I yank him roughly overtop of me, laying myself flat against the desk, my hair spilling over the edge. He looks dissatisfied, as though he were a cat whose cream I’d just stolen for no other reason than to be cruel.

I am, I know. But not for this.

His lips are swollen when I bring them roughly to my own, tasting myself from his mouth. It is a stupor that fills my lungs, my brain, working its way into my blood that controls me. My volition is not my own. I do not think it has been for a long while.

My hands go to his breeches, toying with the lace in the front, but not untying it. I do not know much, enough that he is aware of, but not so little that I am completely unknowledgeable. I refuse to think of the way he looked up to me, his mouth against the softest parts of my skin, drawing sensitive shapes with his teeth, his tongue.

A flower I do not recognize springs from the ivy that unfolds above us, a deep blue that might have been purple in the sun, trumpeting from its stem on the vine. Its yellow-white center does not shy away from the darkness of the room around us.

I move my hands to undo the buttons of his shirt with as much slowness as I can manage with his mouth working delicious cruelties over a soft spot on my neck.

The room is overcome with blooming buds in the darkness. One of my hands drifts over a knot of scars at his back, and I realize that it is not despite the darkness that they crest so fully, so openly, that it is in spite of it. That, maybe there is a kind of bravery in being so honest. In knowing the risks of a poison, and taking the plunge anyway.

He pushes himself against me in a way that is somehow more intimate than when we were both bare. It is not unlike when the clouds part from a silvered sky, letting the moonlight drink in the land, the faelights crashing up into the stars and melding into the air. Somehow, the unbrokenness of this moment is what is visceral, is so guarded by its profoundness that it will know nothing else. I am certain that when I open my eyes, I will see stars.

I am filled with a hatred so hot it warms me from the inside out, so bright that I might never truly be cold.

I hate that he is the one that makes me feel this way, and that the statement alone is as much honesty I can bare, even to myself. I am a coward.

My thoughts are splintering under the guiding action of his fingers, and I realize his clever poison is not simply along the sweat of his skin or tucked in between stolen kisses. It is in his words, his breath, and it is in me, too. And now, I am not sure I will ever be able to escape it.

Masterlist

i don't think i've ever written a first-person tfota fic. anyway i have absolutely nothing to say for myself. enjoy, sluts and whores <3

Tag List:

@cutekawaiihentaiboobies @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @whoviantalibah @snusbandxknifewife @goddess-of-writing @storiesandschemes @thesirenwashere @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @andromeddea @clockworkgraystairs @hizqueen4life @highqueenjudeduarte @the-chick-of-the-air @dorkzrul @sassylunars @justabunchoffandoms @queenofgreenbriar @fandomfanatic987 @df3ndyr @brittneyal @woodsbeyond1 @clouds-and-peonies @mis-lil-red @firestarsandseneschals @b00kworm @bisexual-bibliophile @greenbumblebee @danaanruhn @acciomanorian @ireallyshouldsleeprn @vanessa172003 @janeslandrys @potterpasties @nahthanks @ahdiejajdjsiaksudjjssj @queen-of-demons-and-hell @thefolkofthefic @myunfortunatenightmare @reneereadsstuff @lordoftermites @figonas @aftg-tcp-soc4402 @dumble-daddy @greenbriarxrose @shadowhuntingdemigod @pollyaunt @kittkatandbooboo @savagelysarcasticsilence @romantic-loverr @teenyweenynightghost @bookcide

#i don’t know what to say for myself. so i simply won’t #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the cruel prince #jurdan #tfota #the wicked king #the folk of the air #the queen of nothing #tcp #cardan #tfota fic #jurdan fic #jurdan smut #jurdanhellwrites

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maingh0st · 18 days

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chapter 10 of my name is whatever you decide is up! for the tiny little pocket of us who are very hyped about taryn x the ghost

#now that i have a tfota tumblr i'll post when i update <3 #tfota #the folk of the air #taryn duarte #the cruel prince #the ghost #larkin gorm garrett #taryn x the ghost #tfota fic #mniwyd

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visd3stele · 7 months

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Request (by @folkloregirljude ): Hello :) You could do a story of Jude and Cardan taking care of little Oak and jealous because Cardan steals his sister's attention.

TW: none, just cute, pure fluff

A/N: this is happening separate from the canon of the new book, a bit divergent from the canon of the trilogy as well. ALSO, i know it's been months, i'm SO SORRY...i got some medical issues on my hands that are solved now, so I hope this is worth the wait

also, I don't remember if Oak had hooves as well or just the little horns, but in this fic he has both.

Mine! No, mine!

The Fae Folk is not prone to change. And yet, multiple changes surveyed their world in the span of a few months. Their king died, the royal family butchered, the drunkard Cardan – out of all people! – became king and, after a brush with war against the Mer Folk, Jude Duarte became his queen.

Queen of Elfhame. Jude didn't know what to make of the title. She figured out how she feels about other titles in her life: Seneschal, she quite liked, having hidden her true influence at Court in the shadows, spy gave her a thrill for sure, but never without the dissapointment that came with it after failing to be a knight, wife, after a long time, she accepted with an embarrasing leap of her heart.

But queen, that she has yet to figure. It wasn't part of her plan. And, even though she learned to cheerish the gift of Elfhame as it accepted her in its heart without guilt or shame, even though she could see how much her husband thrived under the crown, Jude simply couldn't make peace with the title. It wasn't hers. Nor Cardan's. In her mind, it still belonged to Oak, hers and Cardan's both baby brother. Because that was the plan!

The more she looked at the little fae, playing with Cardan in the garden – jumping over his tail as if it was a skipping rope he used to love in the mortal land – the more Jude begin to doubt the plan.

"Hey, Jude," the young fae called out of breath, excitement overcoming the tiredness. "Look what I can do!"

Oak bounced from foot to foot over the lazy slash of Cardan's tail in the air, turning around and switching sides in a chaotic, funny dance. The Queen of Elfhame felt the corners of her mouth twitch despite herself. She approached the pair, coming to rest her arms on her husband's shoulders as he hug him from behind.

"That's impressive, Oak!" She said, ignoring the way Cardan's hair tickled her neck as he leaned his head back to look at her. His beautiful, deadly wife.

Cardan smiles up at her, reaching his fingers tentatively to brush over Jude's cheek. The movement spelled her, for Jude leaned into his touch, closing her eyes to enjoy the serene calmness of the moment for what seemed to be the first time in her life since arriving to Elfhame.

"Mmm," Cardan mused happily. Leaning even more to press a kiss to his right below his wife's chin. His focus shifted entirely on Jude, forgetting all about Oak and their game.

"Hey!" The young fae protested. "I wasn't done. Jude, you have to see this. Vi showed me humans dancing like this."

"Of course, Oak."

Jude pushed her husband's shoulder playfully, if only a little bit too harsh – force of habit, she supposed – pressuring him to humor their little brother.

With an amused roll of his eyes, Cardan obeyed. "Anything for you, my cunning queen."

Heat climbed all the way to Jude's ears, pushing her heart to beat faster than she could keep up with.

Oak resumed his little skipping dance. It looked more and more put together by the second, Jude noticed now that she was paying attention. Or trying to, at least. But Cardan could never miss an oportunity to touch his wife. He never quite believed that luck shone mercifully over his head in earning Jude's affection. And now that no threat loomed ovet their heads and the land claimed her as its queen and she didn't need him, Cardan needed the physical reassurence that Jude meant it when she confessed to loving him more than ever.

"You look esquiviste, as always." He pured, trailing his hand up and down the back of her neck.

Redder than a Redcape's bloodied cape, Jude snaped her glare down to Cardan. "Stop that," she snarled. "Oak..."

"... is taking a lot of your attention lately."

And it was true. The weeks following Jude's official coronation, she invited her family to stay at the palace. She couldn't bare the nauseting feeling of not knowing where they are, if they are safe. And having them so close under her nose was easier than sending the Roach or the Bomb to spy on them.

"Oh? Is that jealousy I hear, my king?"

And just like that, Cardan's semblance of control faded into nothing. He would never admit it, but being king has been something he cherrished, despite the dire circumstances that led to and conditioned his reign. He liked the mind games the Court required of him and all the ways he discovered he could help and protect Elfhame without shedding blood or lifting a sword. Hearing the title fall through his Jude's lips in earnest love and admiration – more than he could have ever hoped for – untied any thread of decorum he sewed.

Cardan stumbled over himself as he rose in one hurried jump to cup his wife's face in his hands. An indignat huff from Oak, however, put a stop to the kiss he meant to share with Jude.

"Cardan!" The kid complained. "You had Jude all day yesterday at the meeting. Let me show her my game!"

"Later, kid," Cardan grumbled.

"Now!" Oak countered, stomping his little hooved foot, crossing his arms and leveling Cardan with all the authoruty he could muster.

The High King was having none of it. He moved behind Jude, wraping his arms around her waist and his tail all the way up to her calf. He rest his head atop hers, fully taking advantage of his height. And stuck his toungue out at Oak.

"Jude's my wife."

"She was my sister first!" And with that crying battle, Oak marched towards the royal pair. He stomped onto the fluffy end of Cardan's tail that rested on the side of Jude's foot, trying to free his sister from her husband's grip when the latter yelped and retreated in pain.

Cardan recovered swiftly, though, and grabbed Jude's arm before Oak could pull her away. "Go play, kid."

"Isn't the time of your noon drink?"

"You little..."

"Alright, alright, that's enough!" Jude, who so far has been watching the scene with an awed amusement settled on her face, broke free from her boys. "How about I spend some time with Oak now and you," she waved dismissingly at Cardan, "put together one of those surprise dinner dates you're so fond of for when Oak falls asleep?"

The High Queen of Elfhame didn't let out any space for arguments, despite her tone being inquiring. The rest of the day would go exactly as she said it would. Because, truth be told, she wasn't Oak's or Cardan's, they were both hers.

#jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #oak greenbriar #jude x cardan #jude and cardan #jurdan #my writing #my fic #jude and oak #tfota fic #tfota fanfic #fluff #jurdan fluff

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folfar · 2 months

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Fandom Trumps Hate - bidding is now live!

Just a reminder that bidding for FTH 2024 is now open, and you can find my creator page here - I am offering a Capri fic of 10-20k and a TFotA story of 5-10k!

Bidding is open until the 9th of March, and I have nominated MECA as my chosen charity. If you want to hit me with any questions about what I could write for you, please do!

My Ao3 is here if you want to browse my existing fic!

#🥹🥹🥹 please #captive prince #tfota #captive prince fic #tfota fic #fth 2024 #fandom trumps hate

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slightlyrebelliouswriter23 · 10 months

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winner also gets a snippet! 💚

#tfota #jurdan #holly black #tfota fic #tfota fanfic #my polls

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sophiekarim · 2 years

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Someone needs to write an explicit version of that “I did it to get it out of my system” “and is it out of your system?” scene from The Wicked king. Like.. what if J said no?

UPDATE: Guess I’m not the only one who wants this 😂😂

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pollyaunt · 10 months

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INFERNO

tw: yall dont know what youre in for after reading this hahaha

fandom: tfota

a/n: im so sorry for my absence since past year but im trying to get better everyday and i check up on here everyday too i love yall stay hydrated <3

also for best experience, listen to this one while reading because it gives hardcore big jude energy and has a significance in the fic:

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It was never meant to go so far.

I hold soft flames on my tongue And chew on them like chewing gum,

I couldn't remember how it ended up like the way it did. I was supposed to extract as much intel as possible from him tonight. Not end up with hot and wet kisses trailing down my neck, my cheek, my face.

There's an inferno in your mouth

I can tell by the way you smile like it burns,

But I did remember how it began; with swift moves, swaying and sashaying of hips along with the attractive yet sultry beats of the song playing out, one of my favourites of all time. I remembered how my hazel eyes met the same dark charcoal black ones I saw back on the board pinned in the middle, but the intensity of that deep ruthless gaze didn't hit me until my masked eyes saw it for themselves.

Yet, I continued to move along with the music blasting through the speakers stacked in the corners of that Elite club. Feeling slightly hypnotic by the way he lifted his glass of whiskey to those lush lips and how his black curls fell on his forehead, I raked a hand through my own deep brown hair to the side as I tossed a wink his way, ending my slight adrenaline rush with a controlled move of my cleavage and hips.

A smirk spread on his face, complimenting those sharp cheekbones enough to have me near ready, begging to cut my heart as though glass by them.

His golden clad fingers pressed tighter on his glass, as though reading my thoughts.

And the flicker flames weave in through my teeth

If the hot gum were to slip out, where would we be?

I knew the answer to that just a few minutes later.

I clenched his shirt from the back, bunching the material in my hands as he continued to leave a trail of the feeling of his lips against my skin in a dark corner of the endless dimmed hallway right outside.

I was burning with the way his hands moved on my body, like a musician searching for the right notes to create his best masterpiece ever to exist. A gasp escaped my lips when I felt him nibble my ear with a tug before he tightened his hold on my waist and his mouth went down, down, down, right in the center of the ample cleavage my bright maroon dress displayed.

Goosebumps scattered across my skin wherever his delicate brush of fingers and lips lingered on my body for a little too long, causing me to arch my back in pure ecstatic pleasure.

And when I felt another lick of his tongue on the column of my throat, I knew the night had just began.

He's a keeper, he's a believer

And he put us in a car, I don't know where we are

My breathing turned ragged as he continued to explore my body in the darkest and most sinister way one could imagine. As I reached my high, craving the sharp sting it left behind, I imagined how I never wanted to stop feeling that pleasure like an addict begging for his drug.

And when he finally pressed his lips against mine, I let myself float so high in the most pleasurable hell he made me put through.

I watch us burn and fall

The heat is ten feet tall

So high that I didn't decipher the small click until it was too late to register.

And the flicker flames weave in through my teeth

If the hot gum were to slip out, where would we be?

Or the press of unmistakable cold metal against my very hip I felt him caress seconds ago.

My heartbeat struck just when he whispered his very first words to me tonight, "Such a dirty girl you are, Jude."

I took in a sharp breath as I felt him tug my straightened hair into a tight hold of his hands, as he slowly raised the gun against my neck, smirking in the same cruel way he did during his previous heists.

But this time, I was his heist. And he had successfully won in his mission to corrupt me before I brought any furthermore damage to his plans.

My pulse spiked at the thought but he continued to smile in that same evil manner I saw him did all those days when I was asked to get more and more information on him from the bureau.

"Shh, it'll be over soon, Jude." Cardan continued to nuzzle my neck even though I was still put on gun-hold by his other hand and I couldn't decide what really mattered to me at that moment.

But what I did think of was just one thing:

It was never meant to go so far.

Your teeth are on on fire, do you notice? No.

Your mouth is burning, do you notice? No.

--------------------------------------

alright this struck my mind while I heard the above mentioned song and couldnt settle until i finished this piece in one go. i hope yall liked it mwah <3

also, dominant cardan>>>>

@jurdannet @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @thewickedkings @thekingdomofelfhame @greenbriarxrose @cinnamonsketchdust @charincharge @clockworkgraystairs @jurdanhell @rhysandswingspan

@hollyblack

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absinthemind3d · 9 months

Text

I Only Want You - Chapter 3

It has been a MINUTE, friends. Here's a short chapter three :)

Read on AO3 above or here, above and below the cut >>>

Chapter 2: Cardan's POV is here (tumblr) or here (AO3)

I Only Want You - Chapter 3: Jude's POV (767 - short one!)

---

I don’t know what has come over me. I am not sure who this fierce girl is, sinking her nails into the High King of Elfhame’s cheeks so hard his pupils widen in shock, but I am surprised to find I don’t care. I don’t care how she got here, I only care that this is what I’m working with now, and I find I am delighted.

I grin up at him and angle my right hand so it’s braced at his neck, pressing just enough, I am sure, to hurt. I have never wished for those pointy nails I see on girls in the mortal world, thought them wildly impractical, but gods above I wish I had them now. I’d love to see Cardan bleed under my thumb.

I kiss him, then. Maybe to shut my brain up, maybe because he looks so good, trapped against the door under my hands, maybe because I like to have this control over him as well.

He kisses me back, with such urgency that I gasp against his lips. The heat that was building as I watched him with the others floods through me now, and I am not sure I can stand much longer. I press every inch of my body against his, all the while thinking it is not close enough. He’s only wearing a thin robe, and I can feel that he’s as intoxicated as I am. No, this isn’t enough.

I grab his robe by the lapels and begin tugging him towards the bed, and he laughs softly, lips still on mine, hot as ice.

“Darling Jude, I thought you weren’t lining up for all of this,” I am attempting to shrug his robe off, and he gestures down at himself as I struggle with the tie.

“Shut up,” I growl, finally managing to get the knot undone. If his lithe fingers had expertly tied this so quickly before, imagine what else he could do with them. The thought has me pushing him back onto the bed. I answer him belatedly as I press against him, both of us sinking into the silk sheets, “There is no more line. I’m not sharing.” I try to say this as threatening as possible, but it comes out more like a breathless plea. I hate it, and yet I can’t stop.

He looks panicked for a moment in response to my declaration, and I push back a bit, watching him. “Do you know why?” He asks me, and I think I know what he means.

I tilt my head, unable to, afraid to, speak and interrupt him.

“Because of you,” he continues, in a rush. “No matter how many nights, how many bodies, how much pleasure, I cannot get you out of my head.”

He reaches up to brush a strand of hair behind my ear, so tenderly that if we were anyone else, anywhere else, it might have been the sweetest thing and maybe I might have cried, like a soft girl with nothing in her head but optimistic visions of a future with an equally soft boy.

But I am a murderer, a human, and he is a faerie king, the stuff of fairy tales and nightmares. I only choke out as I reach down between us, “So get me out of your head then. Show me what you cannot stop thinking about. I want to know all of it.”

At that, he grins, wide and slow, and just like that, the vulnerable boy is replaced with the wicked king. Just as I work up the courage to stroke down his length, my eyes widening in spite of myself, he flips us over so I am beneath him.

“Do you really want to know, Jude?” He cocks an eyebrow and grinds his hips into my hand in a way that has my head reeling. I worry I may pass out. “I don’t know if you’re ready for what I have planned for you.”

“Do your worst,” I spit out through gritted teeth, now gripping him hard enough I can feel his blood pounding. I am sure he knows I have no idea what I am doing.

He takes my challenge as permission, and suddenly his hands are everywhere at once, those lithe fingers I’d fantasised about springing to action. He doesn’t settle on any one place, not yet, and I think he must be deliberating.

Sure enough, he asks me as his hands run down my waist, he rising on his knees so he can take all of me in, eyes hungry, “Where shall I start?”

#jurdan #tfota #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jurdan smut #jude x cardan #tfota fic #fic wip #jurdanhell

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adxmparriish · 2 years

Text

it's nice to have a friend - read on ao3

writer: adxmparriish (godgavemelou on ao3) word count: 3.2k pairing: jude duarte/cardan greenbriar rating: explicit

I love you, he thinks as his fingers dig dimples into his wife’s skin. I love you, he thinks as Jude breathes his name into the warm, open air. I love you, he thinks as this goddess, this beautiful, wondrous creature, bends and bows and breaks.

#the folk of the air #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #jurdan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jude x cardan #tfota #tfota fic #jurdan fic #jurdan fanfic #tfota fanfic #my fic

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viivdle · 6 days

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“We recognize your grief,” he spoke. He supposed it was honest – Jude may have grieved Locke, given their past. A past that turned Cardan’s stomach sour.

small teaser of my new fic🤭 first chapter out now!

#tfota #the cruel prince #cardan greenbriar #the wicked king #holly black #the folk of the air #the queen of nothing #jude duarte #jurdan #jurdan fic #tfota fic #locke tfota #taryn duarte #jurdan fanfic #taylor swift lyrics #i swear it's a taylor fic #jurdan swiftie

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wanderingpages · 1 year

Note

Hey Peach, I’m going feral for this Jurdan idea and you’re the only TFOA blog I follow anymore. So, set when Jude is still high key just in it for the power and after they’ve started getting intimate. Jude kills her dad, or someone else does in front of her and she’s playing it off like this is a win bc he was trying to get the throne ergo against her. And she and Cardan walk back to his chambers and he’s trying to gauge how she’s doing bc she puts up a good front but that man raised her. She asks for sex (rough) and he goes along w it and they start making out and she just…. Slowly breaks down and starts sobbing and Cardan holds her and they just cuddle and she actually talks about her feelings and problems and then it’s sappy hurt comfort.

Thank you for your time, just had to get that out. Hope the kiddo is growing up nicely!

∞

A victory, Jude thinks to herself, though her hands shake and tremble when she slides the sword out of his chest. She feels dizzy, as every bone and organ scrape against the blade of Nightfell. She’s done it. He’d be proud of her, that she’s bested him. Of course he would – that is, after all, how he’s trained her.

Blood rushes in her ear and unable to help herself, her knees fall to the ground, beside him. She hesitates then closes Madoc’s eyes, seeing the stain of blood on her finger tips as she does so. She wonders, almost as if she’s not quite herself – as if she’s looking in on the scene from somewhere else – but she wonders if it would be fitting to dip his hood in the blood she’s spilled. There’s a thickness in her throat, Jude can’t quite swallow properly; it tightens and constricts at her rib. She wishes she was a little more human at the moment. Maybe then she’d know what prayer to say to send his soul off. I’m happy, she tells herself, forcing a smile. Safe.

But then, why do her tears feel heavy when they land on his chest?

She doesn’t really know how or when the calvary came, who had helped her up and declared her righteous in battle, who’d led her back to the palace and bathed her. Who’d scrubbed off the remainder of her father’s blood from her skin, and dressed her in finery. Doesn’t pay attention to the speech being made in her honor, doesn’t look to the remainder of her family, mourning his death. She nods and smile when she thinks it’s the right moment, raises her chalice and repeats whatever cheer has been said. She eats her food, but hardly tastes her meal.

When it’s over, Cardan is beside, her leading her to her room. She gives him a smile when he turns her to face him. The door is locked behind him and he tells her it’s only the two of them. “Are you okay?”

“Of course, I am,” Jude responds, “I’m splendid,” She doesn’t think she’s ever used that word before, because it feels so foreign. She thinks, perhaps, she hadn’t fully returned to her body since watching her father fall. She places a hand to Cardan’s neck. His pulse beats just fine, “Just absolutely fine,” she reaches up and kisses him, tasting the salt of her own tears on his lips before she’s even aware they had fallen. He holds her steady, pulling away in concern.

“Jude…” he manages to thumb at the corner of an eye before she turns her face from him.

“It’s a victory,” she can’t help but repeat, what must seem like the umpteenth time. She starts at the bobbles in her hair, sitting in front of the mirror. Her vision seems blury and her fingers get caught in the jewels. She sniffs, annoyed, but gentle hands are easing her digits away, taking out the rest of the adorning gold and pearls and gems. “Thanks,” she murmurs, watching him through the mirror, more than herself. She knows, she’d be unpleased to see the reflection of her red tinted eyes and swollen face. She doesn’t remember crying profusely at all, but why are all the symptoms there? She tests a smile, and if it hurts, she thinks she’s masked it pretty well. “Aren’t you happy?”

Cardan goes to the buttons that line the back of her gown, nimble fingers undoing them with ease. “I am happy you’re alive,” he tells her.

Jude rises, turning to face him, he pushes the dress down her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet. He runs his eyes over her and Jude frowns when she’s realizes it’s not because she’s something pleasing to look at, but because he’s searching her for bruises and scrapes.

She yanks him by his head, forcing their lips to touch. Cardan lets out a startled noise, but rests his hands against her ribs, holding her steady as he mends his lips with hers, submits to her will, despite the taste of blood from the wound she’d inherently inflicted.

She’s managed to get him in bed, managed to rid of any remaining clothes, managed to get him behind her and inside of her, no foreplay or teasing, just, “Please, I want you –” I need you, she thinks.

“Jude…” Cardan’s hand had skimmed her body down to her mound, playing with the sensitive skin between her legs and he’d been so beautiful when she’d look back at him, with her back pressed to his chest, and Jude thought she didn’t deserve his tender look at all.

“No,” she had murmured, tugging at his hand, forcing it over her chest instead “Cardan, please…” When he’d given in, sinking his teeth in the crook of her neck as he fitted inside of her, Jude still wasn’t quite pleased. “Harder,” she’d whispers, now, digging her nails sharply into his bicep, wishing, hoping, begging that his blood would replace phantom residual from Madoc. “More,” she mumbles even though her eyes begin to sting. Cardan fists her hair, leaning her head against his shoulder, sucking harder at the tender skin until it breaks between his teeth. The iron in her blood is dizzying but she’s begging him, begging him, begging him – “Don’t stop…” between whimpers and mewls.

Cardan grabs hold of her arms, bringing them to cross behind her back, the hold is firm but not unbreakable. She sobs when he slams into her this time, hitting her womb at an angle, bruising the muscles so deliciously. He guides her forward, bending her until her face is pressed to the sheets. Jude lets loose a soft cry, fisting her hands so tightly, nails pierce the skin of her palms. More blood, she deliberates, to coat the grime she still feels.

“Cardan…” She manages, sounding broken. Her toes curl and her stomach tenses. She bites down on the linen, as he slows down enough that inch by inch of him is embedded to not just her memories but her flesh too. He pulls all the way out, when the shudders in her body feels utterly unbearable. He turns her over, but she grabs on to him and pulls him close, burying her face into his neck, breathing the mess of his curls, all before he can look at her face and see the worst of her.

“Oh Jude,” he murmurs, “My favorite warrior,” he lets her know, blindly reaching between them to guide himself back inside of her, more tender now, but it aches all the same. She weeps, wrapping her legs around him, gasping in pleasure at every slow thrust.

“Don’t go,” she whispers to him. “Please, don’t leave me,” she begs. He kisses the shell of her ear in promise, holding her slick body against his as they both reach climax and then some.

He still inside of her when he braces his elbow on either side of her head and brushes her hair back. She still pulses, coming down but not fully there yet. Cardan wipes under her eyes, giving her a small reassuring smile, “Let me get you cleaned,” he murmurs, lifting off of her, but she grabs hold of his arm, stilling him.

“Just for a moment,” she tells him quietly, twisting so when he lays back down, they’re both on their sides, facing each other. He fixes them more comfortably, pulling the covers over them as if to keep her secrets safe. They don’t sleep for a long while, don’t move for much longer. Then she begins to speak and Cardan listens intently as Jude walks through her thoughts, her emotions, the schism between how she should feel and what she actually feels. “I don’t think I’m okay,” she finally whispers.

“I know, Jude.” He places a kiss to her cheek, “I know.”

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jurdanhell · 1 year

Note

if you’re still taking prompt requests for jurdan, could you do number 25 from the hurt/comfort list you posted? thank you ♥️

what is a secret, but not a promise?

Read it on AO3!

Word Count: 1,281

The moon was full of secrets. Scandalous and forbidden, everything desirable happened at night. Shadows dipped between each other along the ground, dancing as if made from candlelight as the moon cast her gaze to the Earth. Praying, believing, sacred gaze pressed to the soil so surely she need not worry about what became of her confidences when her lover vibrantly lit the sky.

Cardan slipped from his bed sheets, careful not to wake his wife, who must have snuck beneath the covers sometime after he’d fallen asleep, waiting on her to retire. He tugged the hem of his shirt tight around his waist, willing the crown of sweat on his brow to disappear.

He stood, overly aware of the cold floor beneath his bare feet as he made his way to the window, leaning against the stained glass. It cast beautifully when the curtains had been pulled back to let in the late afternoon light, bringing warm, colourful shapes to the ceilings, the walls, decorating the whole room. Now, they were drawn shut and tight so they might sleep. He leaned against a column where the curtains were parted, peeking around the fabric to look at the coloured glass. And then, out.

The sun crested over the horizon ahead, and the moon made way for his arrival. Cardan glanced back at his wife, at her braid dripping down the side of the bed, now long enough to nearly touch the floor. At the way she curled into the empty space beside her where he had been. One of her hands stretched into the expanse, searching. She didn’t wake.

He pushed open their bedroom doors and crept to the sitting room, stealing a book from an end table he’d left it on haphazardly hours ago, when he had inevitably become distracted by his wife’s curious hands. She’d felt her way down his spine, lower, and they’d whispered promises to each other in the darkness before she’d kissed his cheek and assured him that she’d come back after a meeting with her spies.

He’d waited for her return as the moonlight softened, making room for morning, even as his eyelids grew heavy and he could no longer keep them open. Cardan crossed the sitting room to the bay window, cushioned with ornately embroidered pillows, overstuffed with fluff and feather. He tossed them aside and rest his head against the window, squinting into the sky and searching.

He opened his book, page marked by a lace from one of Jude’s dresses. He’d tugged it once, and she’d pulled it free, tossing it at him and laughing. He tucked it into his pocket when he was sure she’d forgotten about it.

He thumbed through the deckled pages, breathing in the cool air that pressed against the window. It ran its fingers down his skin, raising gooseflesh along his arms, and he welcomed it.

His tail thrashed against the side of the lounge seat, coming to curl up around his ankle when he could not blink away a memory. There, and then gone. The very thing that had woken him, and he could not even remember it. Could not will it back into existence, though it haunted him like any true spectre.

The morning would not vanish his penchant for nightmares, but it could not summon them, either. It was a secret’s job to be kept, to remain, drinking in the moonlight in all their debauchery. But there were bad secrets, too. Nasty ones, that ought to remain in the foulest places, so you might never look for them. Secrets to be buried, and forgotten. Perhaps that was what the moon had been praying for.

Jude padded across the floor quietly and came to rest upon the opposite end of the window seat. She frowned, blinking away her exhaustion as Cardan gave her a soft smile, and opened his arms. She twisted, laying against his chest and looked out the window. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand resting across her center to hold up the book, the other going to her hair.

She was nearly asleep again by the time she remembered what she’d come out to find him for. “What’s wrong?” She asked, voice thick with sleep.

He rest his chin on the top of her head. “What makes you think something’s wrong?” He was grateful, for once, that she was not, could not, look at him.

“You’re reading,” she said, blinking hard as if to wake herself.

He huffed a soft laugh. “I assure you,” he said. “This is no new habit of mine.” He swallowed thickly and hoped she hadn’t heard it.

She inhaled deeply and sat up, turning back to face him again. Yawned. “I’m going to ask you how you are,” she whispered. The hair on Cardan’s arm stood on end again. “And I would like you to answer me honestly.”

He nearly huffed at the last amendment. As though he could do anything else. Instead, she had meant the fullness of the truth, the lack of evasion. For better or for worse, she would get it out of him at some point. At least he’d stopped sweating.

He let the book fall open on his lap and spoke before she could ask again. “I had a nightmare,” he said. “I’m fine, now.” It could not have been a lie. Jude raised a brow, assessing. Surely, she’d rooted out how fickle of a word fine could be.

“Do you always read at the break of dawn?” She asked instead.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “No, but sometimes I would read through it, and into the late afternoon hours.” She looked at him incredulously. “I seem to make a habit of willingly forgetting.”

She leaned against the window. “Come back to bed,” she whispered. “It’s late.” Maybe this was a promise, too.

Cardan looked down to the book in his lap, at the passage highlighted that he’d reread so many times he wondered if the words were engrained in his eyes. When she said nothing, he read aloud. “Ah, love may be strong,” he whispered to her. “But a habit is stronger.”

She took the book from his hands and set it aside as she stood. Pulled him to his feet and wrapped her arms around his waist. Pushed his damp curls back from his face. Pressed a kiss to his temple.

“What was it about?” She asked. A line appeared between her brows, and it took him great restraint to not reach down and smooth it away with his thumb.

“I don’t remember,” he said. “Only that it was terrible.” She said nothing, so he continued into the silence. “For a moment, I revisited every time I closed my eyes as if a memory. Some integral part of me. And now, I know not what it was, only that it may never leave.”

She shook her head and pulled him close. “We get to decide the parts of us that we keep.” Her hands came to rest gently on his stomach, reached for his hand, and pulled him to their room. “What we do not like, we cast aside. We are stronger when we reforge ourselves, I think.”

Jude tugged him onto the bed, and curled him gently into her chest. His ear came to rest against her heartbeat, and he made no secret of listening intently to it for a moment. “A habit is stronger,” he continued from the passage, “and I knew when I loved by the way I behaved.”

She pressed a kiss to the top of his head, stroking loving shapes along his spine.

“You’re my favourite habit,” he said into the darkness.

Masterlist

i start therapy tomorrow and if i die, i die

Tag List:

#prompt by creativepromptsforwriting #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jurdan #tfota #the folk of the air #jurdan fic #tfota fic #tcp #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #cardan #jude #jurdanhellwrites

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